It was the last few years that the United States was making an effort to assimilate Native American's into their white culture. Cheyenne's mother and father thought it would be best for their daughter to attempt to be apart of this world in hopes that she would not lead the same life they had.

Growing up they were scraping by. The Native American reserve that they lived on barely supplied any food to its' people. Many continued to try and stick to their culture's ways only to find themselves dying to illness or starvation. Her parents felt it would keep their kind from dying out if she was to grow accustom to the new life that these white American's had.

While her culture was slowly perishing she fought the transition. Cheyenne had no interest in wearing white man's clothing. During class she would throw her book on the ground and stomp on it to show her distaste for the white man and his white counterparts. Many times the teachers would catch her with a hand-made knife, chizzled out of wood. Her current teacher had a stash of around twenty in her desk.

Cheyenne's last year was the last straw for the white men. When the teacher began to yell at her for disrupting the class, Cheyenne pulled out her knife and held her teacher by the chin while the knife rested against the teacher's throat. Whispering her native language into the lady's ear she threatened her, without her realizing what she was saying.

Suddenly, she felt a strong thud on her head before all she could see was black. The next moment she woke up she was strapped down to a bedside by ropes. Until she proved she could handle herself she was not going to be released from this, or so she thought. Laying there day and night, whenever someone entered to bring her food she would throw herself as hard as she could at them. The ropes rubbing against her skin every time. They would jump back, drop the food, and run out.

Yet, one night the ropes were cut. Cheyenne opened her eyes slightly as to prepare to fight back, but to her surprise a man stood above her with this wicked smile, he had put the knife he used to free her away and in its place he held out his hand to her.

“Now I know you hardly understand me. Yet, you will pick up on the important words. You learned a few things while in our school.”

He said to her, all while she realized this man was no teacher, this white man was a convict. She had read about such men in books about cowboy's.

“You're a fighter and a strong one at that. I need that with me. Your parents want you to succeed in our world and I'm sure you would hate to let them down, yes?”

Cheyenne stared at him slowly registering all that he said and then lowered her head thinking about how disappointed her parents would be if she was to return to their reservation. She couldn't fail them, but she had no want to be apart of this “civilized” world.

“I'm here to offer you a deal. Come work with me, join my family. Your family will be proud that you are apart of the 'white man's world' and you can be yourself. I could honestly care less what you wear or what language you speak, I just need a gal like you among my ranks.”

She wasn't sure what this man was offering, but she nodded. He handed her the book she used to study the English language so she could further understand it, as she was going to need it out there. Standing up she followed him into this new life, but before they left he asked one last thing.

“What's your name, by the way?”

Cheyenne paused and looked in her book on how to say her name. Then looking back at him she slowly spoke.

“I am Shy...an.”