Pony Soldier was a young man of the white race. As a child he was raised on a farm with his brothers and sisters. Because he was the eldest son, he was expected to be responsible for the others and to help with the work. But Pony Soldier was a dreamer and often he wished to escape his mundane life, join the army and ride off to the wild west to fight in the Indian Wars.

His father was an angry and sullen man, an old soldier with many battle scars on his heart and too many mouths to feed. He beat Pony Soldier. He tried to beat the dreams out of the boy’s head, he tried to beat out all of the secret desires he harbored in his own cold heart.

The day came when the young man could no longer bear his father’s cruelty or his mother’s indifference, so he ran away and joined the cavalry. They gave him a good horse and a well-sighted rifle. He practiced much and eventually became a crack shot. It would be his prowess with the rifle that would lead him to his destiny and to Moon Dancer.

Moon Dancer got her name because she would often sneak out at night and dance beneath the Moon and the Stars. Some said she had moonbeams dancing in her head. But Moon Dancer also had a great sadness, for although she could sing any Medicine song she heard, she had no Medicine song of her own. Sometimes, when she lay under the Moon, she would hear faintly the notes in her head, but she would not remember them in the morning. Her Medicine song eluded her. She prayed to the ancestors, but no song came.

As written history tells us, the white race, moving west, swept over the Indian territories like a plague of locusts, consuming everything it it’s path. With them they brought their greedy ways and their deadly diseases. Many of the people, whole tribes, were wiped out. The whites claimed the land as their own and forced the red man to retreat. When there was resistance, the whites made war on the people.

Many of the people, sick with small pox, were forced to flee their homes pursued by the pony soldiers who shot them down like mad dogs.

It came to pass that the tribe of Moon Dancer lay in the path of progress of the white man. Not only were they being deposed from their homes, they were plagued with the pox, the killer disease. They knew the soldiers would come for them and they would be killed. So they gathered a few meager belongings and carried their sick towards the river.

Pony Soldier was ordered on a mission. His commander had heard of his sharp and accurate aim with the rifle and he needed shooters and excellent riders, who could kill at a full gallop. The mission was to seek out and destroy a tribe known to be moving towards the river and the safety of the forest beyond. Pony Soldier obeyed his orders and rode off with the other soldiers, anxious to cut off the retreat of the red man who carried with them the deadly smallpox.

As the soldiers rode out over the plains there arose a great cloud of dust and in the sunlight it appeared as a dense fog over the horizon.

Moon Dancer’s people were desperately trying to get to the river and cross over to the woods on the other side. There they might find shelter and hide from the oncoming attack.

The cavalry began their descent upon the people. They raised their rifles and began to shoot. Pony Soldier also shot on the hoof. Every time he pulled the trigger, one of the people fell. The other soldiers were yelling and shouting praises at each other as each body fell to the ground. There was killing everywhere, braves, old women, mothers and children.

Some of the people made it to the river bank and were shot as they moved into the river. The banks of the river were wet and slippery with mud and the blood of the dead and dying.

The soldiers were closing in and there were so few of the people left. Moon Dancer was at the river bank when she slipped and fell into the mud. The soldiers were upon them and the muck held her in it’s grasp. She lay sinking into the mire and turned her face to the soldiers. She watched as Pony Soldier stopped his horse a short distance to her right. He raised himself up from his saddle and took aim at her. She did not scream but looked directly into his eyes. He had eyes as blue as the sky. Someone close by, another soldier, shouted to the Pony Soldier, “Shoot her, she’s dead anyway, she has the pox”.

Moon Dancer’s eyes held the Pony Soldier’s for a brief moment longer. She saw no malice in his face. The rifle cracked and she felt the bullet enter her body. There was no pain, just a coldness as it passed through her chest and exploded out her left side. As her wounds opened a great yellow light flowed into her and the Pony Soldier faded from her sight.

She saw within the golden haze the circle of elders and they sang to her. Such a beautiful song. As she lay dying in the mud Moon Dancer thanked the ancestors for her Medicine song and Pony Soldier for bringing her this great gift.

Copyright Carol Sander© 1996 (5178)