SATURDAY MORNING, JOHNNY slowly woke up. As he lay in bed, he smiled reliving the second Miles City game. A dream come true, he had sunk the two free throws to win the game for the Chiefs. Even though the early morning sun was peeking through his window, he felt so good, he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep to enjoy the victory a little bit longer, especially the part where Sarah Pretty Feather gave him a kiss on the cheek after the game. He pulled his wool blanket up to his shoulders.

“Why are you smiling?” his mother asked as she gently rubbed his shoulder to wake him.

He sluggishly opened his eyes to find his mom sitting on the side of his bed. His skin flushed, and he took her hand in his. “Oh, just remembering the game.”

“You played really well and made me and your father very happy.”

Johnny sat up in bed. He wore a sweatshirt and jockey shorts as his pajamas. “Is it late?”

“Not for most people, but not your grandpa. He’s in the kitchen, drinking black coffee and grumbling about you sleeping in so late. He wants you to go rabbit hunting with him this morning.”

“I better get up then or he’ll be in here dragging me out of bed.” He sat on the side of the bed and pulled on a pair of jeans. Minatare handed him a plaid shirt and some clean socks out of his dresser.

“Better put on two pair of socks,” she said. “It’s very cold outside.”

“Where’s Dad?”

“He’s still sleeping. He had a late night after the game.” She frowned and shook her head. It had been early in the morning before Billy had staggered into the house and collapsed on the bed in his clothes.

Johnny patted her gently on the shoulder. “I guess he just wanted to celebrate our win.”

Minatare smiled sadly but didn’t say anything else.

In the kitchen, Gray Man sat at the table, drinking his third cup of scalding black coffee. He greeted Johnny: “Good to see you up and about. I’m sure the rabbits are sleeping in too.”

“They’d be sleeping in, too, if they won a big game yesterday.” Johnny sat down, yawning. A hot bowl of oatmeal sat in front of him, and Minatare brought him a tall glass of milk. She tousled his hair.

“My little hero,” Minatare said, smiling broadly.

Gray Man finished his coffee, got up, and put the cup in the sink. “I’ll go get the horses ready. We’ll be using saddles today. Bring your .22 rifle and I’ll get my 12 gauge shotgun.”

The old man slipped his long sheepskin coat over his faded plaid shirt. “And I heard it was a good game,” he said. Cold air rushed in when he opened the door.

Johnny hurriedly finished his oatmeal and milk. He returned to his room, found his galoshes and pulled them over his boots. Snapping the boot’s metal clips, he then pulled on an old wool sweater. Minatare help him into his sheepskin jacket and pulled a dark blue cap with ear flaps, tying its strings under his chin.

He reached under his bed and pulled out the .22 rifle, and then opened the top drawer of his dresser and grabbed a box of cartridges. “I’m set, Mom”

“Just promise me you will be careful. Guns scare me.”

Johnny hugged her. “I’ll be very careful, and some rabbit stew would taste so good.” He let her go and went outside, where Gray Man was sitting on his horse, holding Thunder’s reins in his hands.

“Let’s go, Hunter. The rabbits won’t wait forever.”

They rode slowly down the road past Logan Badger’s house. Smoke poured from the chimney, and Johnny thought how nice and warm it would be inside. Gray Man was silent as they rode; it was a comfortable silence.

The wind picked up but the snow fell lightly, and they easily turned off the road and into the woods. Circling around the trees, Gray Man signaled to stop. “We’ll leave the horses here and walk this cornfield, maybe kick up a bunny or two.” He climbed off his horse, leaving his bow on the saddle.

Johnny slid off Thunder and pulled his .22 from its holster. He pushed cartridges into the rifle’s chamber. “I’ll walk on the outside, Grandpa. Anything I scare up will probably run toward you.”

The snow was about four inches deep, which made walking a little tough, but they had hunted in much worse conditions. Gray Man and Johnny started slowly walking up the field toward a creek and a large stand of old pine trees. The cornstalks were bent over and crackled as they moved; as quietly as possible, they watched ahead for any movement. Johnny loved the whole experience of hunting: the cold, crisp wind blowing on his face and just being with Gray Man, away from civilization and the complications that arose from it.

“There she goes!” Johnny shouted when a rabbit hopped up in front of him. His heart pounding, he released the safety and raised the rifle to his shoulder. Leading the rabbit, he squeezed the trigger, and the cottontail flipped over and lay still. Johnny shouted happily and ran to find the rabbit dead from a head shot.

Gray Man stood there smiling. “You are a good hunter,” he said and patted Johnny on the head. “You make an old man proud that you are a Cheyenne.” Gray Man took his hunting knife from its sheath and handed it to Johnny.

Johnny took the knife, slid it into the rabbit’s belly, and slit it from tail to chest. He grabbed the rabbit by the head and white tail and forcefully swung it until the guts and intestines of the rabbit flew out onto the ground. He slid the still warm rabbit into a plastic bag and into his jacket pocket. He wiped the knife blade on some grass and handed it to Gray Man.

Sliding the knife back into its leather sheath, he said, “It is always good to leave something behind for the coyotes and the hawks. We have taken a life, but these guts will help other animals make it through the winter. It has long been the way for the Cheyenne.”

They resumed their careful walk down the field, kicking at small brush piles and watching for the sudden movement when a rabbit would explode from its hiding place and dart away from them. They tended to run in circles when Johnny scared them up, and they raced in front of Gray Man. Using his double-barrel shotgun, the old man was still an excellent shot, hitting almost all the cotton tails he shot at.

By the time they reached the trees and creek, they had killed five rabbits between them. They turned around and started walking up the other side of the field. The wind was in their faces and felt colder, but Johnny was still warm from excitement. His feet felt cold, so he stopped and stomped them on the frozen earth.

Gray Man turned and moved his hands down, wanting Johnny to be quiet. He peered into the snow.

“What it is?” Johnny whispered.

Gray Man pointed toward the snow-covered trees where their horses waited. A small herd of mule deer, grazing along a frozen creek, was barely visible. They chewed on a few willow shoots, frost puffs blowing from their noses. The dominant male mule deer stood off to the side of the herd, keeping a watchful eye for danger. He occasionally raised his head and bellowed a loud call.

Crouching down, Gray Man whispered, “If we can kill a mule deer, we won’t have to hunt rabbits for a long time. I wish I had my bow. My shotgun is no good for mule deer hunting. It destroys too much good meat. I think you will have to shoot it with your rifle. Don’t shoot the male; their meat is too tough. So, pick out a doe to kill. I will creep up on the herd from the left. You sneak down on the right side. The wind is in our favor, so we should be able to get close.”

“What do you want me to do, Grandpa?”

“When I make a bull mule deer’s call, the herd will become distracted but it shouldn’t scare them off. The females will continue grazing while the bull will be looking to find me and run me off. My call will be your signal to crawl in as close as you can. Lie on the ground and take careful aim at the mule deer’s chest, just behind the front legs. Be ready to quickly shoot twice as the .22 may not be powerful enough to drop a mule deer.”

Johnny shook his head in agreement, his heart pounding in excitement.

The two Cheyenne moved slowly and silently through the snow until they could better see the mule deer herd. Johnny counted eight mule deer, including the bull. He crouched down and continued walking quietly. He saw several females grazing near the creek. He heard the trumpet call of a bull mule deer. Gray Man was squatting low, bellowing loudly.

The bull raised his head, and Johnny could see his giant antlers moving as he sniffed the air for the scent of another male mule deer. Gray Man repeated the bellow and crept a little closer to the herd before repeating the call.

Dropping to all fours, Johnny crawled forward, stopped, and crawled some more. Feeling he was close enough to get off a shot, he lay down and tried to sight on a doe. Then he saw a ghost-like figure gliding among the herd. Johnny blinked and rubbed his eyes, but the spirit slid among the mule deer, finally stopping next to a small doe nearest to him. The white, wispy figure, which looked female, pointed at the mule deer.

Shaking his head, Johnny aimed the .22 rifle where the figure indicated to shoot. He took a deep breath, slowly squeezed the trigger, and fired a shot. The noise startled the herd, and they ran quickly into the trees and disappeared. Johnny stood up and aimed again at his target. She was moving slowly and wobbled while trying to catch up with the herd. His second shot dropped her where she stood.

Looking over at Gray Man, the old man waved his arms and shouted in the old people’s language. Johnny laughed and ran to the mule deer he shot. She was dead; two blood stains formed along the side of her chest. He knelt down and pet the brown fur on her neck. “Sorry, Sister Deer. We need your meat to help feed us this winter.”

Gray Man arrived, huffing and puffing from running through the snow. He grinned widely. “Good shooting, Hunter. Hahu! Just like a Cheyenne warrior in the old days. We’ll have good meat to eat for months. How did you pick this doe to shoot?” He patted Johnny on the back.

“I’m not sure, Grandpa. I thought I saw a spirit or a ghost or something pointing at this one. Maybe it was just the wind and snow.”

“It was not just a mirage you saw. It was the spirit of your grandmother helping you. I could see her, too, and she picked out this mule deer because she is not pregnant. You have great power, Hunter, and grandmother is going to help you when you need it.”

The wind swirled the snow around them as they spoke.

“But, I don’t remember grandmother. I was very little when she died.”

“That’s true, but she held you when you were small and sang the old people’s songs. They made you peaceful and you would soon fall asleep.” Gray Man stood up, his old bones making creaking noises.

“I don’t know,” Johnny said. “I don’t know what I saw.”

Gray Man held Johnny by the shoulders. “But I know what I saw, and you will come to believe eventually. For now, it will be our secret. Your father would not want to hear what really happened out here.

“Now, go and get the horses while I start to field dress this fine deer.”

Johnny returned with the horses, and the two of them struggled to lift the gutted mule deer onto the back of Gray Man’s horse. They grunted as they pushed the mule deer’s body, and it finally slid over the back of the horse, settling behind the saddle. Gray Man pulled a rope out of the saddle bag and tied its legs together. They stood back and grinned at each other. “It feels good, Grandpa.”

“It does,” Gray Man answered. “But your mother might not be so happy.” He reached over and lifted Johnny’s arm. His jacket was covered with mule deer blood, and there was blood on his face and hair.

Johnny wiped his hand across his face. “Do I look like a warrior in red paint?” He joined Gray Man in a laugh.

“We’ll stop at the Badgers on the way home. Estelle should be able to get most of that off you. And me, too.” His left arm had a lot of blood on his jacket. “I was going to stop anyway and give them a hind leg from this mule deer. The gift of food will make all of us happy.”

The Badgers were thrilled to see them as they trotted up the gravel driveway next to the porch. “Ho ho!” Logan shouted and ran down the steps to their side. He patted the mule deer several times. “Come in, come in, and tell us all about the hunt.”

Gray Man slid of his horse and patted Logan on the back. “We will,” he said. “But first we must take the mule deer into your shed. We want to give you and Estelle a hind leg. It should help make the winter go faster if your belly is full.” The two old men slid the mule deer off Gray Man’s horse, and struggling, they carried it into the shed.

Johnny, with a huge smile on his face, sat on Thunder. He loved both those old men.

Estelle Badger walked to the end of the porch. “Johnny, get off that horse and come in so I can clean you up. Your mother will have a fit when she sees all that blood.” She was a little woman, but her voice carried a great deal of authority.

He slid off the horse and stepped up on the porch. She took him by the arm with her bony hands and led him through the rough wooden door and into the warmth of the cabin. It was small, with only a living room, a kitchen, and a small bedroom in the back. The warm heat from the iron stove felt wonderful as he took off his sheepskin jacket and handed it to Mrs. Logan.

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll clean this up, but first you go scrub your face and hands in the sink. I’ll make us some mint tea.”

The water from the faucet, which was well water, felt icy cold, but he scrubbed his face and hands with the harsh bar soap until the water was no longer red with blood. He reached for a towel, which felt rough as he dried his face and hands.

Mrs. Badger set a large cup of tea on the table for him. She poured another cup for herself and took the jacket to the sink. She ran the water over the one jacket arm that was full of blood. The water turned red until it gradually became pink. Mrs. Badger poured hot water from the kettle on a cloth with soap and vigorously rubbed the cloth until it was clean. She held it up, looked at the arm, and scrubbed some more spots until she was satisfied. Hanging the coat on a chair, near the stove to dry, she finally joined Johnny at the table with her tea.

“Thanks,” he said.

She smiled at him and took his hand. “You are a good boy, Johnny Hunter. You always wave and smile at me whenever we meet. It is times like this that I miss having children.” They sat quietly, silently sipping their tea.

“So, who shot the mule deer?”

Grinning, Johnny answered, “I did.”

“Oh your mother and father will be so proud.”

The front door opened and Gray Man and Logan walked in, along with the orange cat.

“Damn cat,” Estelle said with a moan. She stood up and poured coffee for them and they sat around the table, talking and laughing.

After half an hour, Gray Man stood up. “Come on, Johnny Hunter, we need to get this deer home and butcher it. We can dry some of it, but I think we can freeze some too. We’ll put it in a hay box and pack it with snow and that should work just fine.”

They stood up, hugged the Badgers, and were soon on the way home.