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by Margaret Coel
THE THREE WARRIORS sat their ponies against a glass-blue sky broken only by the mare's tail cloud streaming overhead.
A COLD GUST of wind whipped across the Ethete powwow grounds and flapped at Father John Aloysius O'MalIey's windbreaker.
by Margaret Coel
Snow had fallen all day, and now the open spaces of Wind River Reservation lay under deep powder.
by Margaret Coel
A white-yellow haze hung over Highway 287 as Vicky Holden drove north along the foothills of the Wind River Mountains.