What is Love?
In a small tepee sat a Cheyenne girl of 15. She had hair to her waist, the color of a raven's feathers. She was no taller than 5'4. She was considered the goddess of beauty of her tribe. Her name was She Who Loves. Her name applied very well. She had a love for the animals and cared for the sick. Her father was the chief of the tribe. She was well brought up by both of her parents. These people were not stupid, like most white men took them to be. They could track buffalo, predict the weather, and tell when danger was upon them. Love's mother was perched behind her, brushing the girl's long black mane. High hopes were in place of Love finding a husband soon. It was customary for the girls to marry at rather young ages. In fact, the sooner, the better. It was believed the couple would be more prosperous. The weddings were usually extravagant. Usually the tribe would celebrate with traditional dances around a giant bonfire to bring the couple much good health and fortune. After that, the two were to spend the rest of the evening alone. But love wasn't too thrilled about marrying now and having her freedom taken away. Though she was reserved and mature, she was still a child at heart. Weren't most teenage girls? But she didn't want to cause her parents grief by going against their wishes. Things were bound to change soon. A village boy who told them to come outside quick soon disturbed Mother and daughter. They were about to witness something unordinary. Love watched intently as the group of village men who had caught John threw him to the ground, his hands bound together behind his back. He squirmed and grunted with great discomfort. Their eyes met for a brief second. She had seen something she'd never seen before: determination, strength, and courage. Sure the village men would do stupid things to impress the women, but this was different. This was a white man. They were usually cowards who feared the Indians. This one did not. Love felt bad, but did not make a move. Her father hated the white men. They had tried numerous times to push them off of their land. Land they had been on for many generations. They belonged there. Black Bear, the chief and proud father of Love, towered over John; his muscular shadow produced enough shade for three people to cool off under. He glared down at the boy. For once in his life, John was scared as hell. Nothing was more intimidating than a Cheyenne man in the presence of a White Man, especially if he hated them. He then spoke in a language unknown to John. His voice was thick, causing sheer fear throughout John's what now seemed to be, frail frame. Back at the town of John's residence, the town tomboy Amara prowled about wearily. The girl stood about 5'6. Her hair was an unusual goldenrod that would shine magnificently when the sun hit it just right. She wasn't like any of the other girls there. She was very lean and masculine and wore men's clothing and wore her hair short. Most of the people thought she was a boy. Her voice was deep like a boy's. Amara even acted like a boy. She didn't care if she got dirty being neat wasn't her niche, like most girls. She liked to pick fights, too. She wasn't from this town, though. Where she was, she was fighting the boys and kicking their butts. Because of this problem and the fact that the neighborhood boys were sissies, her family was forced to move elsewhere. It wasn't her fault she could kick their asses. They just had daddies who weren't true men. Despite being the little bad-tempered, impatient thing she usually was, Amara had a good heart. She had good manners, too. She was just rough and sometimes hyper. Her parents loved her and treasured her. Many of the girls of the town, thinking she was a boy, also had their eyes on her. This amused her. Of course, she was also different from most other girls in this fashion, too. There were few boys she could tolerate. John was one of those few. They were best friends. They managed to keep it that way for 5 years. He knew about Amara being different. He accepted her completely. "If you were normal like other girls, 'Mara, you'd be borin', girl. In fact, I wouldn' wanna be aroun' you 'cause I'd have no one to beat up, then," is what John would tell her to reassure her when she was doubtful. She stopped at the front door of John's home and banged on the outer paneling. "Hello?" She shouted inside, hoping to get a response from John's Gran. Instead, Levi stepped out, mockingly rolling his fingertip about in his ear. "Quit yer shoutin', boy! I could hear yeh a mile away with that voice. What the heck do you want from us? We just old folk." Despite his remark, he smiled at Amara and gave her a friendly hug. "Is that boy of yours here, sir?" She asked, chuckling. Levi squinted, his old brain not allowing him to important things such as this. He looked down at the dusty road and the back to Amara. "This old man can't remember anything nowadays. I think he went to that one place he's always runnin' off to. Can't say I blame him for leavin'..Surprised he even comes back. There's nothin' here fer a boy like that." Amara nodded absently and thanked the old man for his information. She sighed and stepped onto the dirt road and shoved her hands into her pockets, feeling the few dollars her parents gave her as birthday money. Her family was one of wealth. Since horses were at steal prices then, she decided to purchase one of her own. Slowly, she looked at the building a few yards from her. It was a rancher who often brought in a flock of wild horses and broke them. In the back, there was a corral with several horses bucking and snorting, trying to throw whatever dumb riders got on the backs. She smiled and ran to the wooden fence and found the rancher, Austin. He was a large, elderly man. He knew horses. "Um..excuse me sir.I'm here to buy a horse." Amara said politely. The man turned quickly and looked down at her. "A hoss, huh? Tame or wild, boy?"
"Oh god, tame please. I couldn't handle anything wild, sir." He laughed heartily and gestured for her to follow. He led her to the makeshift barn and waved his arm. "These be my best stock. Yew takes all the time yew need and find what you is in need of, aight boy?" Amara nodded and strolled slowly inside of the barn, looking excitedly from the left and right at each beautiful animal until she came to the second to last stall. It contained a buckskin mare. She was walking in circles and stopped at the door, looking at Amara with bright, intelligent eyes. Amara found exactly what she was looking for.
In a small tepee sat a Cheyenne girl of 15. She had hair to her waist, the color of a raven's feathers. She was no taller than 5'4. She was considered the goddess of beauty of her tribe. Her name was She Who Loves. Her name applied very well. She had a love for the animals and cared for the sick. Her father was the chief of the tribe. She was well brought up by both of her parents. These people were not stupid, like most white men took them to be. They could track buffalo, predict the weather, and tell when danger was upon them. Love's mother was perched behind her, brushing the girl's long black mane. High hopes were in place of Love finding a husband soon. It was customary for the girls to marry at rather young ages. In fact, the sooner, the better. It was believed the couple would be more prosperous. The weddings were usually extravagant. Usually the tribe would celebrate with traditional dances around a giant bonfire to bring the couple much good health and fortune. After that, the two were to spend the rest of the evening alone. But love wasn't too thrilled about marrying now and having her freedom taken away. Though she was reserved and mature, she was still a child at heart. Weren't most teenage girls? But she didn't want to cause her parents grief by going against their wishes. Things were bound to change soon. A village boy who told them to come outside quick soon disturbed Mother and daughter. They were about to witness something unordinary. Love watched intently as the group of village men who had caught John threw him to the ground, his hands bound together behind his back. He squirmed and grunted with great discomfort. Their eyes met for a brief second. She had seen something she'd never seen before: determination, strength, and courage. Sure the village men would do stupid things to impress the women, but this was different. This was a white man. They were usually cowards who feared the Indians. This one did not. Love felt bad, but did not make a move. Her father hated the white men. They had tried numerous times to push them off of their land. Land they had been on for many generations. They belonged there. Black Bear, the chief and proud father of Love, towered over John; his muscular shadow produced enough shade for three people to cool off under. He glared down at the boy. For once in his life, John was scared as hell. Nothing was more intimidating than a Cheyenne man in the presence of a White Man, especially if he hated them. He then spoke in a language unknown to John. His voice was thick, causing sheer fear throughout John's what now seemed to be, frail frame. Back at the town of John's residence, the town tomboy Amara prowled about wearily. The girl stood about 5'6. Her hair was an unusual goldenrod that would shine magnificently when the sun hit it just right. She wasn't like any of the other girls there. She was very lean and masculine and wore men's clothing and wore her hair short. Most of the people thought she was a boy. Her voice was deep like a boy's. Amara even acted like a boy. She didn't care if she got dirty being neat wasn't her niche, like most girls. She liked to pick fights, too. She wasn't from this town, though. Where she was, she was fighting the boys and kicking their butts. Because of this problem and the fact that the neighborhood boys were sissies, her family was forced to move elsewhere. It wasn't her fault she could kick their asses. They just had daddies who weren't true men. Despite being the little bad-tempered, impatient thing she usually was, Amara had a good heart. She had good manners, too. She was just rough and sometimes hyper. Her parents loved her and treasured her. Many of the girls of the town, thinking she was a boy, also had their eyes on her. This amused her. Of course, she was also different from most other girls in this fashion, too. There were few boys she could tolerate. John was one of those few. They were best friends. They managed to keep it that way for 5 years. He knew about Amara being different. He accepted her completely. "If you were normal like other girls, 'Mara, you'd be borin', girl. In fact, I wouldn' wanna be aroun' you 'cause I'd have no one to beat up, then," is what John would tell her to reassure her when she was doubtful. She stopped at the front door of John's home and banged on the outer paneling. "Hello?" She shouted inside, hoping to get a response from John's Gran. Instead, Levi stepped out, mockingly rolling his fingertip about in his ear. "Quit yer shoutin', boy! I could hear yeh a mile away with that voice. What the heck do you want from us? We just old folk." Despite his remark, he smiled at Amara and gave her a friendly hug. "Is that boy of yours here, sir?" She asked, chuckling. Levi squinted, his old brain not allowing him to important things such as this. He looked down at the dusty road and the back to Amara. "This old man can't remember anything nowadays. I think he went to that one place he's always runnin' off to. Can't say I blame him for leavin'..Surprised he even comes back. There's nothin' here fer a boy like that." Amara nodded absently and thanked the old man for his information. She sighed and stepped onto the dirt road and shoved her hands into her pockets, feeling the few dollars her parents gave her as birthday money. Her family was one of wealth. Since horses were at steal prices then, she decided to purchase one of her own. Slowly, she looked at the building a few yards from her. It was a rancher who often brought in a flock of wild horses and broke them. In the back, there was a corral with several horses bucking and snorting, trying to throw whatever dumb riders got on the backs. She smiled and ran to the wooden fence and found the rancher, Austin. He was a large, elderly man. He knew horses. "Um..excuse me sir.I'm here to buy a horse." Amara said politely. The man turned quickly and looked down at her. "A hoss, huh? Tame or wild, boy?"
"Oh god, tame please. I couldn't handle anything wild, sir." He laughed heartily and gestured for her to follow. He led her to the makeshift barn and waved his arm. "These be my best stock. Yew takes all the time yew need and find what you is in need of, aight boy?" Amara nodded and strolled slowly inside of the barn, looking excitedly from the left and right at each beautiful animal until she came to the second to last stall. It contained a buckskin mare. She was walking in circles and stopped at the door, looking at Amara with bright, intelligent eyes. Amara found exactly what she was looking for.