The Drums of Change by Janette Oke Read Free Book Online

feared it meant that the spring had stopped its flow. Without water the band could not stay.
    She quickly pushed aside a willow branch that hung over the trail and peered around its sloping limb. If the spring had failed her, she would be sad indeed. But to her relief and pleasure, a first look at the rocks from which the spring was born revealed the bubbles of water gurgling forth just as she had remembered.
    She breathed a deep sigh, knelt at the edge of the small basin, and reached a sun-browned hand to trail her fingers in the cold water. A few fallen leaves twirled in an eddy, and she scooped them up and lay them gently aside, then stretched her hand into the water again to enjoy its refreshing coldness. In very short order her fingers began to tingle with the chill.
    “Nothing back on the plains is this cold,” she whispered and took great pleasure in the knowledge that was hers.
    She pushed slowly to her feet and backed up so she brushed gently against the outcropping of granite.
    “I hope we never have to leave again. Never,” she said quietly as she gazed off in the distance.
    The bucket at her feet was forgotten as she studied the familiar sight. One large pine had fallen. Perhaps in a storm. She missed its mammoth limbs against the sky, but perhaps—just perhaps its exposed roots would make a home for the bear mother.
    Thinking of the bear, she strained for a sound that would indicate its presence. Only the whisper of the wind and the gentle gurgle of the spring, with the background ripple of the small stream, reached her ears. Then a bird called. A mountain bluebird, and another answered. From the lake beyond, a loon cried. Running Fawn smiled. She was home. Home. She leaned back more firmly against the rock at her back. She would be able to spend another winter here where she belonged.
    She stirred. She was not anxious to go, but her mother would be waiting for the water. Reluctantly she reached down for the pail at her feet. It was a new metal pail, recently acquired at the trading post. She would not need to haul with the clumsy bucket made of skin anymore.
    “Hello,” said a quiet voice, making Running Fawn jump in spite of herself. She swung around to see the strange white man sitting on a rock a few steps away. Running Fawn’s first thought was of flight—but she did not have the water bucket filled.
    “I’m sorry,” he continued softly in her own tongue, though the words sounded different coming from his lips. “I did not mean to frighten you.”
    Running Fawn shrugged in careful nonchalance and turned her back to him. She would quickly dip her pail and be on her way.
    “This is a … a beautiful place,” he continued, groping for the correct words.
    For a moment Running Fawn felt anger. He had no right to her spot. Why did he think that he could intrude?
    But she quickly realized how foolish the thought was. All of the small band used the path that led to the spring. All water buckets were dipped from the small basin.
    “I took a walk as soon as we got into camp,” he went on. “The path led me here. I’m so glad it did. It is a wonderful place for prayer.”
    Running Fawn straightened and looked at the strange man. He was speaking words that she did not understand.
    “Prayer—” he explained gently. “Talk—with God.”
    She still frowned. He smiled at her and stood from his seat on the rock, but he did not approach her.
    “Did you ever wonder how this all came to be? Who created this … this beauty? It was God. God the Creator of all things. This Book—” He held up the hand that was holding a strange-looking black book. “This is the Book that tells about Him. It is called the Bible. When I talk to Him—it is called prayer.”
    He waited. Running Fawn did not respond, but she couldn’t help but be drawn to his words. How could that object—the Book—tell about God?
    “That is why I have come here—to live with your people. I want to tell you all about this Book. About