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Updated: June 20, 2025


She wanted Wagalexa Conka to call her in that kindly, imperious voice of his the voice of the master. This leading woman would see, then, that here was a girl more beautiful for whom Luck Lindsay felt the affection of family ties. She waited, flattened against the wall, listening to every word that was spoken in that buzzing group.

Pink suggested boldly, "and let her be his daughter instead of Rosemary?" "Say, what does that there walka-some-darn-thing mean, that she calls yuh?" Big Medicine wanted to know. "By cripes, I hate talk I don't savey." "Wagalexa Conka?" Luck smiled shamefacedly. "Oh, that's just a name the Indians gave me. Means Big Turkey, in plain English.

Napoleon was the great little war-chief's name, and her heart swelled with pride as she drove steadily through the storm and thought what a great war-chief her brother Wagalexa Conka might have made, were these but the days of much fighting. There was to be no trouble with "static" this time, if Luck could help it.

Aloud she dared not speak the word, lest some tricksy breeze carry it to him and fill him with; anger because she had betrayed his friendship. "Wagalexa Conka cola! cola!" Friendship that was dead but she yearned for it the more. And it seemed to her as she whispered, that Wagalexa Conka was very, very near. Her heart felt his nearness, and her eyes softened.

"I think you must not run away from the reservation," Luck parried, refusing to be cajoled by her anger or her beauty. "You always were a good girl, Annie-Many-Ponies. Long time ago, when you were little girl with the Buffalo Bill show, you were good. You mind what Wagalexa Conka say?" Annie-Many-Ponies bent her head. "I mind you now, Wagalexa Conka," she told him quickly.

There, surrounding the cabin, were the Happy Family, and old Applehead whom she hated because he hated her. And in their midst stood Bill Holmes and Luis, and the setting sun shone on something bright like great silver rings that clasped their wrists. Coming up the hill toward her was Wagalexa Conka, climbing swiftly, looking up as he came.

Bimeby he marree som' girl, then what for you? He don' maree yoh, eh? He don' lov' yoh; he think too good for maree Indian girl. Me, I not think like that. I, Ramon Chavez, I think proud to lov, yoh. Ramon " "I not think Wagalexa Conka marry me." The girl was turning stubborn under his importunities. "Wagalexa Conka my brother my friend. I tell you plenty time. Now I tell no more."

She would swear to Ramon, and she would keep the oath and Wagalexa Conka would not even miss her or be sorry that she had gone. "First you make swears like I tells you," she said. "Then I make swears." "Muy bueno!" smiled Ramon then. "So I make oath I take you queek to one good friend me, the Padre Dominguez. Then yoh be my wife for sure. That good enough for yoh, perhaps?

And just beyond the corner out of sight but well within hearing, Annie-Many-Ponies stood flattened against the wall and listened with fast-beating pulse for the sound of her name, spoken in the loved voice of Wagalexa Conka. She, the daughter of a chief and Luck's sister by tribal adoption would he not miss her: from among those others who welcomed him?

But not once again did Annie-Many-Ponies hear her name spoken. Not once again did Wagalexa Conka remember her. Save when she, that slim woman who bad come to play his leads, asked to see her, she had been wholly forgotten. Even then she had been named a squaw. It was as though they had been speaking of a horse.

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