The Drums of Change by Janette Oke Read Free Book Online Page A

the God of all”—he flung one long arm in a big arc—”this.”
    Running Fawn did not know whether to listen further or to dash for the safety of the camp.
    “Your mother will be waiting for the water,” he said gently. “We can talk more later.”
    Quickly Running Fawn knelt to swish aside small intruders on the pond surface and scoop her bucket full of water.
    Without even a backward glance she ran down the path that led back to the village. The whole encounter had unsettled her—but she wasn’t sure just why. At least she now knew why the man had come to stay with them. He came to talk about the Black Book. Running Fawn had never seen a book before. She had no idea what it was all about, but she felt a strange stirring of curiosity. She wished she were brave enough to take the Book in her own hands.

    In spite of their white visitor, they all quickly settled back into camp life. The young man was seen talking with this warrior or that, and often with the chief. On several occasions, Running Fawn even saw him chat with the young boys. She wondered if he was showing them the Black Book. She longed to take a peek at it herself but stayed at a distance, quickly dipping into the bush or dashing behind a tent if she saw the white man coming her way.
    She now dreaded the trips to the stream and always made sure she went in the company of other young girls. She felt cheated. Like she had given up a part of her own self.
    And then one night the chief announced that there would be a meeting around the open fire. The white man had something he wished to say and they all would be there to listen. Running Fawn felt both curiosity and panic. What could the white man say that would be of interest to her people—to her?
    When the last chores of the day had been completed, the open fire was built in the middle of the camp. Running Fawn followed closely behind her mother, who led little Bright Star by the hand. The baby had now outgrown the cradle board and wished to toddle along with the family, but he still needed a hand, as his little feet were prone to trip over small roots or uneven ground. Moon Over Trees smiled good-naturedly and patiently helped her little son to his feet again.
    They settled close to the circle, blanket shawls wrapped around their shoulders to keep away the chill of the mountain night.
    When the chief was assured that all were present, he stood to his feet. He was a commanding presence in spite of the ravages of time and a nomadic life.
    “We have come,” he began, “to listen to our white friend who has something important to tell us. I have listened for many nights. I have heard his words and they speak to my heart. Now I wish you to hear his words. What he says is a new sound. He calls it Truth. He speaks of a god we do not know. A god who he says made all things. The rivers, the mountains, the trees, the buffalo. What he says is strange. If it is a right way, I do not know. Listen. We will listen together and then we will decide if it is right.” He sat down and folded his blanket closely about his shriveled frame.
    The white man now stood. In the light of the fire and the glow of the rising moon, his face looked pale and glistening. If she had met him along a wooded trail, Running Fawn was sure she would have run away in fright.
    He lifted the Black Book that he always seemed to have in his hand and began to talk to the people. His voice was quiet but powerful as he slowly and carefully chose his words.
    “Long, long ago, before the sun was in the day sky or the moon lighted the night, before man walked on earth or the deer fed in the forest, there was God. A great God. He had always been. Had never been born to the tepee. Had never grown in the cradle board. He had never had mother or father—for He is God. Without Him, nothing would be—for He is the maker of all things. He planted the forests and placed the mountains and the valleys. He started the streams and rivers flowing and formed the