Tersa sniffed around her. “You smell fine.”
The Comanche men always slathered pungent grease on their skin before they set out to hunt. Soonie supposed this was to mask their scent from prey. Clearly, this group had a different idea of acceptable odors.
I love these people--but I would give my new riding breeches for a place to wash.
Wind Catcher brought his horse to a halt, though Soonie had not seen him signal to the animal in any way. Every muscle in the horse and rider’s body stopped cold, motionless as statues.
They appeared. No brush stirred, no rocks rolled onto the path. Three young men simply hadn’t been visible before, and now were. They wore traditional fringed and beaded buckskin trousers. Two had Comanche-style braids, thick and falling far past their shoulders, like Uncle Isak.
The third man stood a head above everyone else, with a wiry, muscular build. His hair was braided loosely, and sharp spines were arranged in a sort of cap covering his head. Porcupine quills. Soonie sucked in a breath. She’d seen photographs of Kiowa people, and knew they shared the settlement with her Uncle, but she’d never met one. After the great wars, where they had fought beside the Comanche people as friends and allies, many moved with them to the reservation at Fort Sill, in the great Oklahoma territory to the north.
Uncle Isak moved forward and grasped one of the shorter men’s shoulders. “My brothers, so good of you to meet us here.”
The man with porcupine quills came to clasp hands as well, but his eyes traveled to Soonie’s over Uncle Isak’s shoulder and remained fixed on her face. Sparks flew from the dark pupils and threatened to singe her cheeks.
Before she could think, her fingers crept up to touch her warmed skin.
The man’s mouth curved into a scornful smile through horizontal black stripes painted across his high cheekbones.
He must be one of the people who did not wish for me to be here. She lifted her chin and returned his stare. I can’t be mindful of those who stand against me. I have to move forward and trust God to arrange my path.
Isak turned and held out his arm to her. “Lone Warrior, this is my niece, Susannah Eckhart. Soonie, Lone Warrior is the son of Brave Storm, the other leader of our settlement.” He gestured to the other two young men. “Gray Fox and Thomas.”
Soonie dismounted and moved toward the men, hoping they couldn’t see how badly her legs were shaking. She held out her hand. “So nice to meet you. Please, call me Soonie.”
The three men stared at her hand for far too long before she dropped it to her side.
Uncle Isak cleared his throat. “Hmmm. Well, as you know, Soonie came a long way to help our children, and I would like to get home so we all can rest.”
Lone Warrior’s mouth appeared to be set in a permanent line. Soonie blinked when he spoke. “Father has agreed to this, and the old men have agreed to this. It seems the young men have no say.”
Uncle Isak’s back stiffened. “We listened to you speak, despite your youth. Someday, the decisions will be left in your hands. But the elders have decided our children must learn the white man’s ways.”
Lone Warrior turned to Soonie, and his porcupine quills seemed to bristle even more. “So your answer is to bring this white woman . . .” he spat the words, “into our camp? So she can betray us all?”
Isak folded his arms and stepped forward, but Soonie could hold back no longer. “My mother was Isak’s sister.” She fought hard to keep the anger from her voice, for she knew it would only fuel a very strong fire. “She taught me to love our people. I have come here to help you.” To her horror, angry tears stung the corners of her eyes. She rarely lost control like this. But I’m so tired . . . and dirty.
“So, Su-san-nah, you have come to teach.” Another smile, cold and hard, broke over Lone Warrior’s face. “Perhaps you should first learn to show respect.”
“I am every bit as worthy as you.” Soonie met his gaze. “We are all equal under God.”
Gray Fox threw out a hand as if to strike her, but Uncle Isak moved forward and grabbed his arm before the blow could land. “You will not harm this woman. She is my honored guest.”
“Is this what she will teach? Our women to be insolent? The children to speak back to their elders?” Lone Warrior shook his head. He jerked his chin, and the three young men melted into the woods once more.
“You’re doing a pretty good job of that already,” Uncle Isak said to the now still bushes. Soonie and Uncle Isak remounted their horses.
The other three members of the traveling group smiled grimly, but no one mentioned the heated exchange. They all started forward.
“I don’t think I like him very much,” Soonie murmured to Uncle Isak.
“Lone Warrior is a good man. But he did not live in the times I have seen, where war cries filled the air and the ground was littered with corpses, both white and Comanche. But Lone Warrior’s heart beats strong. I do not know a braver man.”
He could learn some manners. Soonie hunched down in the saddle and kept her dark thoughts to herself.
###
In a short time, a dark shape appeared against the hills. At first, it looked like a structure Soonie’s nephews, Will and Henry, might have created with river rocks.
As they rode closer, Soonie picked out details in the rock fortress. Small, crudely formed windows with iron bars over them, the rough texture of rock walls, scalded white from the sun. A soldier slumped against the gate, flicking his hand at flies and pulling his short-brimmed military cap down to shade his face.
Soonie’s father, Charles Eckhart, had been a soldier at such a fort. Her mother, Lucy, had met him when he’d come to the reservation at Fort Sill on a supply run, and they had fallen in love. After his service, he convinced her to come down to Bastrop and live with his Swedish family, who welcomed her with love and acceptance.
What would have happened if my parents had chosen to stay by the reservation? Would they have ended up at the settlement, in hiding? Would their eyes slant sideways at every sudden noise?
The guard stood up straight when they rode past. His brightly polished buttons shone on the dark blue fabric of his coat. “Mr. Isak, how are you today?”
“Fine, Lieutenant Ford.” Uncle Isak nodded back. He dismounted and shook the man’s hand.
“Is she a new one?” The guard stepped closer and studied Soonie as though she were some mysterious creature from the woods. “I don’t remember seeing her here.” His face was smooth and pale, blond whiskers just barely growing in. His gaze was not hostile like Lone Warrior’s had been, merely curious.
“My niece, Susannah Eckhart,” Uncle Isak replied.
Soonie slid to the ground with as much grace as she could muster, and swept the man her nicest curtsy, learned from Zillia’s mother years ago. “Lieutenant Ford, so nice to meet you.”
The young guard’s eyebrows traveled to the brim of his cap. He took the hand she offered him. “The pleasure is mine, Ma’am.”
“I apologize for the state I’m in. Eight days is an awfully long time to be on horseback.”
“Yes, it would be. We don’t have any womenfolks here, so the men can get pretty ripe themselves.”
Uncle Isak cleared his throat. “We’ll be on our way now, Lieutenant Ford, if there are no further questions.” Soonie wasn’t sure if the glimmer in his eyes was from annoyance or amusement.
“Lone Warrior and his friends were here a little while ago, wearing their paint,” Lieutenant Ford called as they walked back to the horses.
Uncle Isak snapped around. “Yes, they came to meet us to make sure we had arrived safely.”
The young man’s cheeks reddened. “Well, uh, Mr. Isak, sir. I reminded him about the paint. My captain worries when those young braves travel the roads like that. Not to mention they scared the blazes out of me.”
The group on horseback folded their arms and glared at Lieutenant Ford.
A lump rose in Soonie’s throat.
Uncle Isak’s face clou
ded, but he answered the young soldier in a level tone. “As I have explained to Captain Wilkerson, Comanche and Kiowa men wear paint for many different reasons. The hunting parties avoid the main road and in four years have never been seen. The paint does not signify war, it is simply a part of who we are, which is one of the reasons we came here. We should be free to express that tradition.”
Lieutenant Ford nudged a rock with a booted toe. “Yes, sir. Just thought I would mention the captain’s concerns.” He looked up, and Soonie saw the glint of intelligence his hat had been hiding. “I know black paint stands for war, Mr. Isak. Don’t know why they have to choose that color.”
Soonie’s uncle bowed his head. “I don’t think they truly know, either, Lieutenant. Thank you for bringing it up. I’ll speak to your captain about the matter.”
The guard went to open the gate.
Uncle Isak raised his hand. “Another time. We are tired and hot and our horses are weary. We will go on for now.”
Lieutenant Ford opened his mouth, darted another look at Soonie, closed it and nodded. “Yes, sir, Mr. Isak. I’ll tell Captain Wilkerson to expect a visit from you soon.”
“You go right ahead.” Isak mounted his horse and waited for Soonie to follow suit. They continued down the path.
A little past the fort, the horses crested a high bluff. Uncle Isak gestured toward the rock wall. “The settlement is right around the corner.”
A flutter of excitement filled Soonie’s heart. Beyond lived a family she hadn’t met, traditions and cultures she had longed to explore, and her new home.
3 The Settlement
Smoke drifted in lazy threads over the ridge line. Soonie asked Wind Catcher, "Won’t someone guess the settlement is there if they see the smoke?"
The middle-aged man shrugged. "Very few strangers come here. Lone Warrior, Gray Fox and Thomas scout the roads, watching for travelers. Fires are kept small during the day.”
Round hills covered in sun-browned grass rose from the earth, looking like mottled pigeons with heads tucked beneath their wings. The horses plodded through a valley creased between the mounds. On the bluff’s other side, the settlement unfolded.
Giant, cone-shaped tipis squatted haphazardly along a wide, bowl-shaped surface of rock, fringed by cedar trees. To the east was a clearing, with a circle formed of boulders. Behind the bowl a jagged cliff rose up. Homes of mud and wood sat on shelves in the hillside, along with gardens. A path snaked through the structures.
Uncle Isak moved past the settlement before Soonie's curious eyes had time to study everything. He led the group down a path that skirted through trees to a wide, grassy area. Here was a log corral, with several other horses grazing within its fences. Uncle Isak flung out an arm. “Stone Brother’s new home.”
Soonie quickly dismounted and pulled the saddle off her weary horse. Tremors went through the animal's skin as flies buzzed and landed, and he tossed his head.
“You finally get a rest, dear one,” she whispered. She reached in her carpetbag for an apple, the last one from a bag from Grandma. “Enjoy it, I don’t know when you’ll get another.” she told him as he crunched it between giant yellow teeth. Juice dribbled down his velvety lips.
She joined the other riders in rubbing down the animals and checking their hooves for cracks and stones.
Uncle Isak gestured to the camp. “Everyone will be out to meet you soon.”
Soonie shaded her eyes to study the distant tipis and buildings. “I’m a bit confused. I thought the Comanche and Kiowa people didn’t build anything but tipis.”
“On the reservation, some do live in structures made with government supplies,” said Uncle Isak. “The chief, Quanah Parker, owns a very large wooden home. But our people did not build these shanties. Prospectors set up this camp many years ago, after a silver vein was discovered. They mined for a short time but didn’t find much, so they went away.”
“And no one else comes here?”
Uncle Isak chuckled. “Captain Wilkerson took care of that. His soldiers spread stories of ghosts and evil spirits haunting these hills. The tales are so terrifying they even scare me, though rattlesnakes pose a much more realistic danger.”
Soonie nodded. Superstitions ran rampant in Bastrop as well. If a place held even the hint of a ghost, townsfolks avoided going there at all costs.
“Another reason no one has tried to settle here is because of floods. The houses on the hills are safe, but we’ve had to move our tents several times to keep them from being washed away.” Uncle Isak shook out his saddle blanket and folded it. “The floods bring blessings in addition to troubles. Our gardens grow in the rich soil brought in by the waters.”
Uncle Isak opened the gate for the horses to enter, and then closed it behind the swishing tails. He nodded towards Soonie. “Are you ready to meet everyone?”
Soonie smoothed out the wrinkles in her blouse. The flowered pattern was all but obscured by dust and grime. She glanced at the horse trough. If she splashed water over her dirty face, it would only create a muddy cascade. It's no use. She gave Uncle Isak what she hoped was a brave smile. “Lead the way.”
The noon sun spilled over the rocky bluff in a waterfall of light. People began to move out of shadows cast by the houses and tipis. They shaded their eyes as they looked toward the group by the corral. On the other side of the valley, carts filled with vegetables rumbled through an opening in the wall.
“The building over there,” Uncle Isak pointed to a large log hut, under a group of trees, “will be your school house. It also serves as a church when the traveling preacher comes through.”
“Do all in the community believe in Christ?” Soonie asked.
Uncle Isak’s eyes narrowed. “No, Little One. About half of the people are believers. But we have learned to accept each other’s different faiths. Everyone should be free to follow their own beliefs.”
Cries of excitement filled Soonie’s ears as children of assorted sizes flocked towards her.
The little girls were clothed mostly in buckskin dresses and long, fringed shawls, though a few had town-style calico frocks. The boys wore trousers so faded and discolored it was hard to tell what fabric they were made from. Most of the boys were bare-chested and none of the children wore shoes.
A few children stopped to greet family members from the traveling group, but many surrounded Soonie, clinging to her skirts and pulling at her fingers. She smiled down into the faces. Several were dark as river earth; some were lightly tanned like her own. Pairs of golden, blue, and deep brown eyes stared back at her. Soonie fell in love with them instantly.
Their questions peppered the air like buckshot.
“Isak said to call you Miss Eckhart. Why?”
“Did you bring fancy white-people things?” asked a girl of about ten, who wore the cleanest dress and had the whitest collar. She eyed Soonie’s traveling bag hopefully.
“I did bring a few items you might like. I will show them to you as soon as I get settled.”
The girl clapped her hands. “I’m so glad you have come!”
“I’m happy to be here as well,” Soonie said. Her heart warmed to its very core.
The adults stood back with folded arms. Most were older, a few looked to be the same age as Grandpa and Grandma. A group of teenage boys sulked over to the side. Porcupine Quills, as she had begun to call Lone Warrior in her head, and his two friends were nowhere to be seen. I shouldn’t be so uncharitable. After all, he has good reason to be suspicious. But he could have been a little nicer.
A young woman with friendly eyes came up and gently parted a way through the children. “Laura, Little Boar, give Miss Eckhart room to pass. She will have plenty of time to answer questions later. The road was long, and she must be tired. Mira, Loud Raven, let’s move over here.”
The children all stepped back, still beaming.
“So nice you have come.” The young woman patted her hand. “I am Molly. You will be staying with me and my grandmother.”
Molly threw her fringed shawl over a thin arm. Her umber hair swung freely, cut short like the other women’s.
Soonie fingered her long, brown braid. Maybe I should make a change. It would be much easier to care for out here.
“Come with me.” Molly led her across the clearing and up the meandering path. This was nothing more than a deep furrow in the hardened earth, with tufts of bramble and bushes sticking up alongside it.
“Your uncle asked if my grandmother and I would allow you to stay in our home. I was happy, because there are no other girls my age in the settlement. All the other women have children and are far too busy to pay me any mind, a widowed girl who knows nothing of their world.”
Soonie stopped short. “You were married?”
Molly nodded. “Yes, three years ago.”
“Goodness! You look so young. How old were you?”
“Fourteen. Many Comanche girls marry younger, but I was an orphan, and had nothing to offer but myself.” She twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “My husband died of pneumonia a few months after the wedding.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Molly shrugged. “He was a good man, but I did not know him well, and felt no love for him. Grandmother Eagle wished for me to find another, but I am content on my own.”
“Girls don’t usually get married until sixteen or eighteen where I’m from,” said Soonie. “But I think everyone was starting to worry about me, especially since my best friend got hitched, and I didn’t have any prospects.”
Though Soonie and Zillia had been friends since childhood, she’d noticed a change in their relationship since the wedding. Her best friend always put on a bit of an air when she talked about ‘my husband’ or ‘my marriage.’ Perhaps I perceived a smugness that wasn’t there. Whatever the truth, she understood how Molly felt. Married women were simply other.
The Comanche Girl's Prayer, Texas Women of Spirit Book 2 Page 2