Then from the distance, there came a rumble that seemed to come slowly nearer and nearer to the village. Singing Waters realized quickly that a dust storm was heading for her village. The other squaws had heard it, too, and were rushing to gather their children into their tepees and bind the skins across the entrances as tightly as they could. The dogs whimpered and scattered for whatever shelter they could find. The village did not have to wait long, for the winds were soon lashing against the tepees, straining their fastenings, and the dust was whipping through the village like a flood tide rushing over the rocks on the seashore.
The dust reached into every opening in Singing Waters’ tepee. It wasn’t long before a fine coating of it covered everything and everyone inside. Her two daughters huddled close to her, crying slightly because of their fear of the storm. But soon the wind blew out of the village, and the last dust clouds settled to the ground. One by one the flaps of the tepees swung back. Mothers, children and old men began to come out. They found that many things, left outside in the haste of escaping from the storm, were covered with coats of light brown dust. Everyone began cleaning up the village and sweeping away the dust which had piled up against the sides of the tepees.
While this was happening a young boy, named Fat Buffalo because he was short and very fat, came running through the village, crying that his mother was lost. Singing Waters halted him and shook him a little to make him stop his screaming. When he had quieted, she was able to learn that Brown Fawn, the boy’s mother, had left the tepee early that morning to seek fresh water. She had been gone only a little while when the storm struck. Now she was not back in the tepee and Fat Buffalo was frightened.
Singing Waters was worried, but did not tell Fat Buffalo. She knew that an Indian woman out in such a storm might easily fall under the stinging pelting of the sand, only to be smothered by it. She might never be found unless, years later, new storms should blow away the dust and reveal the dry bones of a skeleton and a few bits of her clothing. Though Singing Waters felt panic in her heart, she quieted herself and spoke calmly to Fat Buffalo.
“Go back to your tepee, Fat Buffalo, and wait. Your mother probably found shelter from the storm. Now that it has stopped she will be home soon. If it will make you feel better, I will go and look for her. Return now to your tepee. I wouldn’t be surprised if your mother were there already.”
How Singing Waters hoped that Brown Fawn was back in the village by now! It would be almost an impossible task to find her here on the plains if she were dead or even hurt. First, Singing Waters would not know in which direction to start. The water hole that she and most of the tribe used was to the south, but there were many water holes in many directions from the village. Singing Waters decided that she should go to Brown Fawn’s tepee and find out if anyone else in the family knew in which direction she had gone.
After warning her two daughters to stay close to home, saying that she would be back shortly, Singing Waters ran swiftly through the village. Reaching Brown Fawn’s tepee, she opened the tent flap and stepped inside. As her eyes grew used to the darkness, she saw Fat Buffalo kneeling in the far corner of the tepee, crying. Approaching slowly, Singing Waters saw that there was someone else in the tepee and that Fat Buffalo was kneeling next to that person. As she drew near, her heart was happy, for she thought that Brown Fawn had returned and was comforting Fat Buffalo. She was about to turn and leave when she suddenly realized that this woman was not Brown Fawn, but Fat Buffalo’s grandmother, Little Otter, who held the boy’s head on her lap.
Singing Waters approached quietly and spoke softly to Little Otter. “Has Brown Fawn returned yet with the water?” she asked with slight hope in her voice.
“No,” said Little Otter, “and it was because of me that she went in search of water. We have some water here in the tepee. But I have not been feeling well, and Brown Fawn thought that herbs brewed in fresh spring water from the rocks on the near-by hills might make a tea which would help my sickness to leave.”
“But,” said Singing Waters, “the hills where the streams flow are many miles from here. If Brown Fawn left when the sun rose, then she might just have reached the spring when the storm came. She is probably on her way back to the village right now.”