I like to get up before dawn to go hunting. The sky was still showing a hint of morning color by the time I had circled around to the west side of the lake near our village, the first time I saw Nahimana. She was standing by the shoreline, eyes closed, dancing to music that only she heard. I stood there, stunned--not only by her beauty, but because she was there. What was she doing here? She'd have been a tiny girl when these lands last belonged to her people. I don't know how long I stood there entranced before she realized I was there. Her eyes flew open and she let loose a small yelp of fright as she backed away from me. She looked very scared. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you," I said, holding out my hands palms up. She watched me warily. I sent her a reassuring smile and took a slow step toward her. She jumped back a step. "No farther!" she warned. "Ah, you do understand English, then." She nodded. "I was sent to the Indian School at Pittsburg. They taught me your speech--and how to be White," she added, her tone bitter. That last retort stung. "Doesn't look like it took, seeing as how you're dressed," I snapped back. She was wearing a highly decorated deerskin dress. Instantly, I was ashamed. I stepped back. "Sorry. That was uncalled for." We both fell silent for a while, just standing there appraising each other and the situation. "May I ask what you were doing?" I finally ventured. "I was dancing a medicine dance. I came here to do it because this was my secret place, when my people lived in these parts." An incredibly sad look crossed her face. "Back when I had a people, a nation." "Your famiy's dead?" She nodded. "Most of them, anyway. The rest? Scattered out beyond the Missouri River, I guess." Will you try to find them?" She looked sadder still. "I don't know. Yet if I did, I wonder if I could ever fit back into my tribe. I don't remember much of my own speech, or of our customs and beliefs. The school punished us if we spoke our own language. They taught me to sew, to read and write and do sums. They tried to make me White. Yet I'm not that, nor am I really Indian anymore." She paused then added; "Don't know what I am." Her mouth twisted in a crooked smile. "Even gave me a White name--Sally Witfield." Her face hardened a fierce look in her eyes. "But I didn't forget my true name, even though they tried to beat it out of me. Nahimana. My name's Nahimana." "Mine's Josh. Josh Newman. What does Nahimana mean? At least, I heard that Indian names usually mean something." Nahimana nodded. "I--, I don't remember." Tears streamed down her cheeks. "You asked if I would seek out my tribe. Probably not. I've lived in Pittsburg for nearly six years--every since completing school. I'm a dressmaker!" she cried out. "What would a dressmaker do out beyond the Missouri?" Her first tears had been silent. This time, I could hear the quiet huffs of her sobbing, until she fell silent. There was nothing I could say to comfort a hurt like that, so I said nothing. "Turn around," Nahimana suddenly demanded. "Okay," I agreed and did so. "Why?" There was no reply. I waited a few minutes. "Nahimana?" Silence. I turned around and she had disappeared. I'm a fair tracker of game, and I looked and looked, but I found no sign of her. I kept coming back to the same spot day after day, but she never returned. It was mid-summer when I met Nahimana. The leaves are turning red, orange, and yellow now. I haven't been able to get Nahimana out of my mind. Not that I've tried. Pittsburg’s a large town, but I'm seriously thinking of going there to look for her. If she's there, I'll find her--no matter how long it takes. I don't know that much about medicine dances, but I keep getting this peculiar notion that somehow she danced me to her secret spot, whether she meant to or not. So I've got to go and find her.