You Will Always Be In My Heart

Little Creek jumped high into the air, letting out a whoop as he did. Then he watched as his new friend, the mustang Spirit, galloped off. Beside Spirit ran Little Creek's beloved mare Rain. Both horses had stopped for a brief moment to look back at the dark haired, young, Lakota brave. The pain that both horses felt at leaving the boy behind was mirrored in Little Creeks own dark eyes. Then, with a final neigh of farewell, both horses had run off, ready to rejoin Spirit's herd.

Little Creek watched until both horses were gone, then turned toward the Lakota village. Countless times Spirit and Rain had been seen walking among the people and their teepees. Now only people moved throughout the village. Sighing, Little Creek walked past the village to the river beyond.

The water flowed by as Little Creek sat down on the riverbank. It was the same bank where Spirit had saved his life. Little Creek looked at the dirt near where he sat. The tracks from that day had long since faded, covered by time and the prints of other animals. However the events of that day were still vivid in his mind; the cavalry's attack, the gunshot, Spirit and Rain being swept over the waterfall, and the beginning of the journey to save Spirit. Little Creek knew that he would always remember his wild Spirit and precious Rain.

Little Creek sat on the bank for the rest of the afternoon, lost in his own memories. Thoughts of Rain as a long legged and awkward foal, a trusting and energetic yearling, and a beautiful, majestic mare brought tears to the young brave's eyes. She had been his partner, his companion, and his best friend. It hurt to say goodbye to her but Little Creek knew that she would be happy and cared for with Spirit. When Little Creek finally stood up the sun was sitting on the horizon, covering the village and surrounding area in a blanket of red light.

Little Creek had started off toward the village when he caught sight of a figure walking toward him. As the figure came closer he realized it was Whispering Dove. A quiet young Lakota woman, she was very wise and gentle. Little Creek smiled as Whispering Dove reached him.

"You have done a good thing, letting her go. Be patient. She will come back."

"How do you know?"

"To her you are part of her family. She will not forget you." Whispering Dove smiled. She had seen the way the horses had bonded with Little Creek. She was certain that they would come back one day. "It will be dark soon. I hope your dreams will be happy."

Little Creek watched as Whispering Dove turned and walked away. Then he turned and walked toward his own teepee, but her words kept haunting him. He wondered if his beloved horses really would come back to the village. As much as he wanted to believe Whispering Dove's words he would not let himself watch for their arrival. Only time would tell.

The next morning Whispering Dove visited with Little Creek, encouraging him to take part in activities that would take his mind off of the departure of his friends. Whispering Dove knew that he missed his friends. But Little Creek was strong, and he could get past this disappointment. Finally Whispering Dove convinced Little Creek to take part in some of the activities around the village.

A week had gone by when Little Creek found a place for himself. Several of the other horses around the village needed a young brave to work with them and ride them. Little Creek began working with the horses, just as he had once worked with Rain and Spirit. Being with the animals helped to ease the pain of not having either one there.

"This is a good place for you." Whispering Dove told him one day as he sat on the corral fence, watching the young horses graze.

"Yes it is. I enjoy their company."

"And they enjoy yours."

Little Creek sighed as he thought of all he had done with these horses. Many of them were responding to him just as he had hoped they would. But as he studied the various coats gleaming in the early evening sun he remembered once again that there was not another Rain or Spirit among them. However he would continue his work.

As time passed Little Creek began to laugh and play again, until he was as happy as he was before. It had taken him a while to adjust to the fact that he could not just call Rain to his side at any time. He still had to remind himself that he was not gathering apples for the wild mustang that had become such a large part of his life. But he no longer thought about that final goodbye every minute of the day.

The spring sun rose warm and bright. Little Creek stretched as he looked around him. Buds were beginning to adorn the plants. Baby animals were making quick appearances beyond the village. And tiny, wobbly foals played alongside the village horses. The new season held many wonderful promises.

Little Creek looked to the next teepee. As the year had passed Whispering Dove had become his greatest friend. She had spent many hours with him while he thought of Rain and Spirit. She had worked with him to take care of the horses that were now moving throughout the village. And she had offered him the gift of friendship. He knew that she would be up soon and she would enjoy the promise of the new season just as much as he.

Little Creek shook his head, pulling himself from his thoughts, when he heard a sound that seemed vaguely familiar. Walking to the edge of the village he looked out to the horizon. A gentle hand startled him as it was placed on his shoulder. Looking back he saw Whispering Dove standing behind him, a tiny, knowing smile on her lips.

"Did you hear it?"

"I thought I heard something, but I can not see anything."

"I told you that she would come back."

The thundering of hooves made Little Creek jerk around. A herd of horses topped the hill, led by a gentle palomino, a paint foal with a dark mane and tail, a paint with a light mane and tail, and a buckskin colored horse with a dark mane and tail. As the herd neared Little Creek's eyes widened with shock and joy.

Spirit let out a loud whinny while Rain nickered her joy at seeing the young brave again. The village spread out before them, like it was welcoming them back. Spirit led the herd to the bottom of the hill where he stopped them. Then he and Rain trotted up to Little Creek, followed by the foal. Little Creek looked closer at the foal and laughed.

"And what am I going to call you?" he asked the little filly. With the dark mane and tail of Spirit and the painted coat of Rain, the filly was beautiful, even if a little wobbly still.

"Why not call her Morning Sun? For the beginning of a new day, a new season, and a new future." Spirit and Rain whickered their approval while Morning Sun gave a playful squeal.

At last everything seemed right again. Spirit and Rain were home with their new daughter. Though free to leave at anytime, the herd always returned to the area just outside the village. And Little Creek had more horses to care for than he could handle alone. And Whispering Dove was there to share every experience with him and the horses.