Backwater Publishing LLC

PRAIRIE DOG BOY

(based on a dream)

by

Clem Mason

(age-6-10)

(wc-824)

Lucas (Luke) Mapes and Henry Godfried, both 14 years old, often grew weary of the big city life around Fort Hays in those carefree days of the 1890’s. Being hungry for adventure, they would often mount their ponies and explore the vast expanse of prairie that surrounded the small Kansas town. Usually, they would end up chasing a hapless jack rabbit or an old mangy coyote. They would run their ponies until they refused to go another step from exhaustion. No worse for wear, their prey would walk away, glad the chase was over.

On this day, out of protest, they were made to let Luke’s little brother, Joseph, tag along. He’s only eleven.

“Let’s follow Big Creek up stream,” Luke said.

They all agreed and raced along the banks of the small river, Luke leading the way. Soon, their ponies grew tired so they slowed to a walk. Luke and Henry talked while Joseph marveled at all of their adventures.

Suddenly, Henry pulled up short. “Look up there, men,” he said, pointing.

Far up the stream there was a rare sight indeed. In the middle of the shallow river stood a lone Indian boy which looked to be about their age. His long black hair fell over his shoulders. An animal skin covered his hips and thighs as he waded up to his knees in the cool water. His small bow, armed with a fishing arrow was held at the ready. He was faced away from them and they couldn’t see the knife hid in his waist band.

“What’s he doing?” Joseph asked in a shrill voice.

“He’s fishing, stupid,” Luke barked back.

They sat and watched the native boy a long time until Luke turned and smiled. “Let’s chase him some.”

Henry shrugged. “He ain’t botherin’ nobody, Luke.” Then he pointed. “He does have a bow and arrow.”

Luke scoffed. “You’re afraid of a little fishing arrow? It’s a toy. Besides, he’s just a dumb Indian boy. Come on.” With that said, Luke set his pony into a full gallop.

“He’s smarter’n you’d think,” Henry shouted after his friend but he was already closing in on his quarry. Henry and Joseph lagged far behind.

The Native boy turned when he heard the approaching hoof beats. For Just a moment, he watched the young rider coming towards him. Sensing what was about to happen, he disarmed his bow and leapt from the stream just as Luke’s pony came splashing into the water. The distance between them narrowed rapidly and just before the pony was about to run him down, the Indian boy darted to the side. Luke pulled the reins and turned his pony as fast as he could. He ran very fast and darted this way and that and Luke couldn’t catch him.

Just then, Luke’s pony went out from under him as it had stepped in a prairie dog hole. They both crashed onto the ground in a great cloud of dust. Luke was momentarily stunned. As he gathered his wits, he knew he was, at that instant, the quarry and was quite likely to be killed.

When he didn’t feel the arrow pierce his flesh, he wondered why. Slowly he raised his head only to see the Indian boy standing 10 feet away, holding his bow and arrow in his hand. When the native saw that Luke was going to be okay, he turned and walked away.

Luke stood up, brushing himself off. Just before disappearing over the hill, the boy turned and he and Luke stared at each other a moment.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” Luke shouted at him in humiliation more than anger. The expression on the Indian’s face told Luke he didn’t understand his words but waved a salute.

Luke waved back just before the native boy disappeared over the hill. Just then, Henry rode up and swung to the ground. “Are you alright?”

Luke nodded. Yeah, I’m…I’m okay,” he said softly.

Henry leaned down to feel the leg on Luke’s pony. “I think he’s okay, Luke”

Luke just nodded again. Something was bothering him and Henry saw it. He avoided eye contact.

“Dumb Indian, huh?” Henry scoffed. “He runs right into a prairie dog town and you ride in after him.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“Shut up, Henry,” Luke warned.

He stiff led his laughter as best he could.

Then Luke looked his friend right in the eye. “He could have killed me, Henry. You know that, don’t you?

Henry nodded.

Just then, Joseph rode up in a cloud of dust. “What happened?”

Luke and Henry looked at each other and without saying a word, mounted their ponies and headed for home.

Joseph called after them. “Hey fellers. What happened?”

THE END.

If you liked this story and you feel the poor, old author deserves compensation in his retirement for this creation, then please feel free to send $1.00 to Clem Mason, c/o Backwater Publishing. 66021-0213.

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Questions and comments are welcome. Thank you for your honesty and integrity.