Young Bear awoke slowly. He had not slept soundly. Now he was in that gray area between being asleep and being awake. He was cold and the damp air magnified the cold. He wondered why his father, Otter Skin, did not have the fire burning as she usually did on these cold mornings so their home would be the warm and comfortable place it always was. He did not smell the white man's bacon they had become so fond of. He could not smell the coffee his mother, Spring Doe, always had boiling on the fire every morning when he awoke. Then he remembered. The soldier's musket ball had taken the life of both his father and his mother. Suddenly he was fully awake. The memory flooded over him. He had to bite his lip to keep back the tears. He could taste the warm, salty, blood in his mouth as his teeth pierced his lip. He did not understand why they had to go to the place called Okla. something or other. He only knew he did not like to hear this word. Then he remembered Old Beaver Tail and all the events of the previous days. He opened his eyes and sat up. He could see Old Beaver Tail bending over a small fire, made mostly of damp bark and small twigs. He was cooking something but Young Bear could not see what it was. After the death of his father and mother the old man had taken care of him in much the same way as a father might. He could not understand why Old Beaver Tail took care of him as he did. During the journey they walked near the end of the group on the trail. When they came to the place where they were to spend the night the land around the camp had been cleaned of everything that was edible and all wood, bark, twigs, or anything that could be used to build a cook fire. But Old Beaver Tail always managed to have enough fuel to build a small fire to cook their meager rations and to warm their hands and feet and to dry their damp clothes. He would cook the small quantity of corn meal and fat pork they were given each day. Old Beaver Tail carried a small iron pot. Before he cooked the corn meal he would put it in the pot and fill it with water. After a few minutes he would skim off the bugs and small worms that infested the corn meal. Then he would pour off the water, add the pork fat, and any edible roots or plants he had picked up during the day's walk. Old Beaver Tail ate sparingly allowing Young Bear to get as much nourishment as possible. Young Bear had no blanket. He had given his blanket to his mother when she was riding in the sick wagon. After his mother had taken the spirit trail it was not returned to him. The soldiers would not give him another blanket so Old Beaver Tail shared his blanket with the boy. When the weather was bad he would let Young Bear have the blanket to He would sit near Young Bear and keep a small fire going all through the night when there was enough fuel so Young Bear would be warm as he slept. One day Young Bear asked Old beaver Tail why he cared for him as a father does a son. Old Beaver Tail looked at Young Bear. He leaned back against the large tree he was using to shelter them from the wind. As he started to speak his eyes his eyes grew soft. The wrinkles seemed to leave his face. He spoke of a time many winters past. He told Young Bear that when he was a young man he had taken a beautiful young maiden for his wife. He had given her a gift of venison. She had given him a gift of corn. Their blankets were joined. The tribal ceremony had joined then for life. In the second year of their life together The Grandfather had sent them a baby girl. Even though they lived together for ten more winters no other children were given to them. In the fall of there eleventh year his wife had caught a white man's disease. Small red bumps appeared on the skin of her body. Her face was very hot to touch. On the forth day of the sickness she had gone to sleep and could not be awakened. On the evening of the fifth day she had taken the spirit trail. He had been very sad. He felt sick in his heart because of the death of his wife. He thought he had nothing to live for. As he sat thinking of how he could take the spirit trail his young daughter of ten winters came and put her arms around his neck. As he put his arm around her he knew he would not and could not take the spirit trail now. He had taken care of her until she had seventeen winters. It had given him much pleasure to watch her grow. She was so much like her mother it was almost like seeing his long dead wife again. When she was just past her seventeenth winter a young man had come into her life. Although many young men had watched her and tried to court her she had not returned their attention. One day a young man she had been watching, secretly she thought, had come to Old Beaver Tail. He asked him for his daughter to be his wife. Old Beaver Tail had seen his daughter look at the young man many times. Each time she saw him she would stop what ever she was doing and watch him until he passed from view. Beaver Tail knew his daughter cared for the young man so he agreed the young man could take his daughter for his wife as long as she also agreed. Again the tribal ceremony had been performed. The gifts of venison and corn had been exchanged. Their blankets had been joined. Young Otter Skin and Spring Doe were married. In time The Grandfather had sent them a son. He had been a fat baby with a full head of bushy hair. He looked all the world like a little bear. Because of this Otter Skin called him Young Bear. The boy had listened carefully. He understood that old Beaver Tail was the father of his mother. As he heard the revelation of old Beaver Tail his heart began to swell. The blood raced through his veins. He was no longer alone. He had someone who cared for him. Someone he could care for. He understood why old Beaver Tail took care of him. He had a blood relative! He had a grandfather!
The Saga of Young Bear
