At first, Soonie had been excited by the prospect of snow. Winter storms in Bastrop seldom brought more than a flurry. But when she considered the tipis and hastily-built shanties the people called their homes, she couldn’t believe they had already lasted through four winters in this place. She learned that during the coldest days, the people crowded into as few homes as possible, sharing fuel, food and body heat.
Tipis were not meant to stay in one place for a long time. In times before the reservation, the cone-shaped structures had been packed up and moved when a group traveled. Soonie’s mother had said when she was a little girl, she’d helped the older women take down these portable homes. The skins, stiff from the elements, were removed from the poles, then beaten with sticks to make them supple enough to roll into impossibly tight bundles. The tall, straight sticks were pulled down and tied together with leather strips. The whole thing would be done in minutes.
Molly had told Soonie the settlement’s members would have all preferred to live in tipis, but hides needed to create and repair them had become scarce. Deer and elk were rarely found in these hills, and buffalo had been gone for decades. Pelts from rabbits and the other small game found in the area could not be used for construction. A shame, for the Kiowa families owned tipis that had been passed on through generations, and paintings depicting decades of hunts and battles faded a little more with every season.
Some of the tipis had been repaired so many times, with various hides, blankets and cloths, that beneath the layers of dust they looked like patchwork quilts. Each piece of material added on had to be shaped carefully as to not waste any of the fabric, and then rubbed with tallow or animal fat to make it waterproof.
“Any word on the slates?” Soonie asked. Uncle Isak had just returned from the fort.
“Yes.” Uncle Isak’s face brightened. “Captain Wilkerson said he could get eight, and that they would be here soon. And another good thing. He said nothing about the man Lone Warrior killed, so he did not know about it. Lone Warrior was right. Those men were trying to hide something. A good trapping line, perhaps. I’ve heard people in the east are paying a lot of money for beaver pelts to make hats.”
Soonie stared at him. “You didn’t tell the captain what happened?”
A muscle in Uncle Isak’s cheek twitched. “Soonie, I trust the man with my life, but it is good to know when not to speak. Why stir up trouble? Lone Warrior will tell me if he and his friends see anything suspicious.”
Soonie remembered the look on Lone Warrior’s face after the young man had been shot. Or he’ll take care of the problem himself.
“I’m surprised they wouldn’t try to avenge their friend’s death. Those men were evil. If Lone Warrior, Thomas and Gray Fox hadn’t come along, they would have done something terrible to Molly and me.” Soonie shuddered. She ripped a piece of cloth from an old blanket and held it up against a hole.
“I don’t think we’ll see them again.” Uncle Isak stabbed his needle into another section of hide. “Even if they found this place, three men couldn’t fight all of us. They would have to notify the law. A week has passed. If they didn’t have something to hide they’d have already been out here looking for us, with help.”
Soonie sat back against a tree to rest her leg. “I hope you’re right. I don’t ever want to see Hal and his friends again.”
Lone Warrior had been gone most of the time since that night at the fire. If he wasn’t hunting, he was out on watch. The few times Soonie had passed him, he merely asked about her ankle, nodded when she answered, and moved on. She decided the instance at the campfire had been merely a sympathetic interlude and nothing more. Why am I even dwelling on it? Why do I give that man a second thought?
These thoughts brought another part of the campfire conversation to Soonie’s mind. “Uncle Isak, Lone Warrior told me about an unsettling practice he and his friends are involved in. I’m worried mostly for the younger boys.”
Uncle Isak’s shoulders sagged. “The Peyote.”
“Yes. I’m surprised you and Brave Storm allow them to partake of such a thing.”
Uncle Isak tied off his line of stitches. “Soonie, don’t forget. You are new to this place. Our people do many things you cannot understand.”
Though the words were delivered gently, they still stung. Soonie brushed away a sudden tear. Will I ever understand?
Uncle Isak glanced up, and his eyes filled with compassion. “Ah, Soonie. I know you care for the children’s safety. As far as I’ve seen, the only ill effects from Peyote have been dreams and deep sleep. Because of my Christian faith, I do not use Peyote, though some Christ-followers think the plant helps them hear from God. Lone Warrior and his friends believe this way. They have built a Peyote lodge. It’s quite a distance from camp and the younger boys are not allowed to go there. We can say what happens here at the settlement, but we cannot make the choice for them.”
Soonie’s shoulders sagged. Of course Uncle Isak would leave it up to the young men to decide.
Her foot throbbed, and she reached down to rub it. The memory of another touch caused her heart to jump.
Lone Warrior. She’d never dreamed coming to this place would lead to such scrambled feelings. Those deep brown eyes held so much wisdom. He was a man of integrity, who loved his people. And he had saved her life. But he would have done the same for anyone.
If only Zillia were here! Molly was a good friend, but not close enough to discuss such complicated issues. She frowned. No, such thoughts shouldn’t be shared with anyone. She and the young Kiowa man were so different. He held an obvious contempt for her white lineage.
“As though I can help it.”
“What was that?” Uncle Isak peeked over the side of the tipi.
Soonie put up hands to cover her glowing cheeks. “Nothing, just thinking out loud.”
Uncle Isak gathered his tools and stepped back to survey his work. “Hopefully, that’ll hold for another winter. If not, you ladies might have to make room for me on the kitchen floor.”
Soonie pulled herself up on her stick. “I suppose some things must be left in God’s hands.”
“Thank you for your help.”
“Wish I could have done more,” Soonie replied.
Uncle Isak rested his hand on her shoulder. “You have done more than you think, Little One. You are a strong and courageous woman, and I’m glad you have come. Go and rest, so you can be ready for what comes tomorrow.”
Soonie stumped along the path with her makeshift cane. The tipi was situated within a crease in the rock, and as she came around the side, she heard men’s loud voices.
Lone Warrior, Thomas and Gray Fox stumbled toward the center of the settlement, laughing and shoving each other.
“How is your foot?” Lone Warrior. His eyes rested on her for a moment, and then rolled to the side. He squinted and shook his head, then trained his focus on her again. This seemed to take a lot of effort.
“It’s better, thank you.” She lifted her chin and tried to pretend she didn’t notice his condition. “I still have to use my stick, as you can see, but probably not much longer. And how are you? You look a little . . . poorly.”
Lone Warrior flung his arms out to his friends. “We’re all fine. Aren’t we?”
Guffaws and loud agreements met his words.
“I’m glad to hear that.” Soonie stood a little straighter. “I think you’re all disgraceful. Everyone is working so hard and you—you’re nothing but three lazy oafs.”
Gray Fox stepped closer, until she could feel his hot breath on her cheeks. “We were out all night in the hills, watching for those men. So be careful about who you call lazy.”
Lone Warrior pulled him back. “Don’t pay any attention to her. She has no respect for us, or our ways.” These last words ended in a hiss.
Accursed drug. Soonie pushed her way through the young men and prepared to scale the path to her house. Not an easy task with her crutch, but she would have crawled up on her knees before s
he asked one of them for help.
Halfway up the ridge, a twisted oak tree grew over the path, branches sprawled to the side. Partially uprooted during a flood long before, it had managed to hold on to the hillside and continue to grow in this unnatural fashion. Beneath the branches sat Timothy, eyes trained on Lone Warrior and his friends. When Soonie passed, he gazed up at her. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Soonie reached down and straightened one of the feathers in his hair. “What’s wonderful?”
“They can go and speak to God, whenever they want!”
Soonie’s ankle throbbed all the more from the walk up the hill, but she knelt beside the boy anyway. Dappled sunlight reached through the tree’s braches and caught the sparkle of gypsum and quartz crystals in the rocks.
“Timothy, don’t you remember what we talked about in school yesterday? We may speak to God whenever we wish. He is always listening.”
The boy pulled a small knife from his belt and ran the edge along a tree branch. “But my brother says when he goes into the lodge, God talks back.”
“I don’t know if he really does hear God.” Soonie frowned. “He’s eating a plant that makes his thoughts scrambled. I don’t believe God speaks to people that way.”
“But what if it’s true? What if you really could just eat a cactus to hear God? I’ve tried to talk to Him, many times, but I haven’t heard anything. What if . . . what if I could hear my mother speak from Heaven?”
“Oh, Timothy.” Soonie’s heart melted, and she longed to reach out and comfort this motherless boy. But she knew the impulse would tear apart any bonds she had created with him, so she held back.
Timothy turned back to watch Lone Warrior and his group. He stared after them until they disappeared below the ridge.
13 Dancing Night
Brother Jenkins sucked in his cheeks, which seemed paler than before, if that were possible. A few hairs sprouted over his chin, probably overlooked when shaving.
Soonie had missed attending church services. The weekly prayers and hymns shared in the school house by the settlement’s believers were uplifting, but not the same to her as a sermon delivered by someone who studied and prepared for a journey into the Word.
But, like before, it seemed that every scripture Brother Jenkins chose, or at least his interpretation of them, steered the message in favor of the white man’s superiority.
Most of the people in the Bible weren’t even white. When Soonie was a little girl, Grandpa had told her that folks from the eastern lands, such as Hebrews, Greeks, Romans, and Syrians, were born with darker skin and eyes. What made white men so special? Her fingers tightened around her Bible. How dare anyone say one race is superior to another? God created all men equal. How grieved He must be to hear teachers speak in His name and suggest such things.
After the sermon, she pressed against the wall of the schoolhouse while everyone else rushed outside to prepare and partake of the meal served when the circuit preacher came.
Brother Jenkins paused and bowed to her on his way out. “Miss Eckhart, I’m glad to see you haven’t given up the fight. How are things progressing?”
“My students are doing well.” She decided not to add they’d probably taught her as much about Kiowa and Comanche culture as she had taught them about reading, writing and arithmetic.
He rubbed the missed hairs on his chin. “Good to hear, good to hear.”
“Brother Jenkins, I would like to talk to you about your teaching.”
Though he stared right at her, his eyes were vacant, like he didn’t see her. He nodded. “Yes, yes, quite so.” He fumbled in his pocket. “I’d almost forgotten. I have a letter for the girl you live with. Molly, I do believe? Can she even read?”
“You mean my second cousin? Of course she can read!” She snatched the letter from his hand. Beautiful script covered the front. “Oh, this is from the lady doctor at the reservation!”
Brother Jenkins bowed again. “Yes. She has expressed interest in meeting with Molly, I’m not sure why.”
Soonie took a deep, steadying breath. “Because Molly would like to study medicine. She wrote to Doctor Early a few weeks ago. We weren’t sure if the letter would reach her.”
Brother Jenkins straightened his jacket. “Doctor Early is a great help to the reservation, and when she asks for something, my fellowship generally tries to help. I will be in Dallas for a time, and then back through here in two weeks. If Molly is willing, I will accompany her to meet with the doctor in a town near the border, not far from Fort Sill. The doctor will be holding a clinic there on the tenth of November. Weather permitting, of course.”
“Molly will be delighted.” Soonie clutched the letter to her heart.
“I wished to see if you might come as well, Miss Eckhart. My fellowship would frown upon me traveling with a young lady and no chaperone. It would only be two days, so the children wouldn’t miss too much school.”
Could I handle being in this man’s presence for two whole days? But Molly would want me along. Soonie nodded. “All right, Brother Jenkins, I will come.” The angry words she had meant to say about the sermon slipped from her mind as she turned to leave.
Brother Jenkins touched her sleeve. “Will I see you again at lunch today?”
His face was so hopeful, Soonie almost felt sorry for him. All at once, it dawned on her. This man believes he is doing right. God, please help him to understand the truth.
She smiled as pleasantly as she could manage. “No, not today. Have a safe journey to Fort Sill.”
She left him standing in the doorway, and felt his eyes follow her up the path to home.
###
“How will I ever wait two whole weeks!” Molly twirled in the sand, her shawl flapping like the wings of a hawk. “Think of it. I’ll be able to meet Doctor Early, to discuss what I love with someone who has studied medicine in a real university. Brother Jenkins says she does all the doctoring for the reservation, and in many of the nearby towns as well.”
“Mmm hmmm.” Soonie had fallen so deep into her own thoughts she barely heard the younger girl’s words. Will Lone Warrior be at the gathering tonight? Does he even remember what happened last Monday? As if he’d care. She kicked at a rock. At least she didn’t have to walk with a stick anymore. Like Molly had predicted, her ankle was almost well.
I’m glad Brother Jenkins has already left for Fort Sill. I don’t think I could handle both men in one place this evening.
The moon was halved in a clean line, as though a butcher had taken a cleaver to it with one, swift chop. Clouds rolled over it, and silver glinted around their edges.
A large fire danced in the center of camp. Everyone in the settlement had come, dressed in painted buckskins and elaborate shawls. A few of the women wore straw hats like those Soonie might see in a shop window back home, but these were trimmed Comanche style, with turkey feathers and porcupine quills.
Soonie leaned towards Molly. “I feel a bit underdressed.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Molly. “Your mother’s shawl is beautiful, and your hair looks lovely.”
Soonie had followed Molly’s lead and let her hair flow around her shoulders. She’d braided one tiny section and tied in a dove’s feather.
Women stood in small groups chatting, while several of the Kiowa men sang and danced around the fire, stomping and shaking gourd rattles. A cluster of Comanche men standing to the side beat on small drums made of wood and skin.
The firelight cast a mesmerizing glow over the faces around it. The aroma of food swirled into the smoke, creating an otherworldly atmosphere.
Wildness stirred in Soonie’s heart. It’s all so beautiful.
The song was in Kiowa, but she had learned a few words since her arrival and phrases leapt out at her: a poem about hunting, horses, and bravery in the battle.
Lone Warrior stomped past her, wearing his father’s buffalo robe. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back in song. Tonight, gold and green swirls covered his face instead o
f the angry black lines he usually sported. Soonie only recognized him because he was a head taller than the other men in the settlement. He looked happier than she had ever seen him.
She went to join Bright Flower, who was dishing out soup to hungry children.
“This is the first dance I’ve attended. At least, the first dance of the Comanche and Kiowa people.”
“You have been to a white man’s dance?” Laura stepped up to her, eyes shining. “Was it wonderful?”
“Not as wonderful as this.” Soonie accepted the cup of soup Bright Flower handed her and ate a spoonful. Rabbit. She allowed the rich, gamey taste to roll over her tongue before swallowing it down. The firelight poured into her eyes like molten gold and her body swayed to the driving beat, as though the drums and rattles were invisible puppeteer’s hands bidding her to move.
Never before had she heard such music. Her mother had sung old Comanche songs, but one woman’s chanting couldn’t compare to this. The rhythm pounded through her being and spoke to her spirit as much as the words filling her ears.
She’d often made up dances when she was alone in the woods, for God. These had been inspired by the story of the prophetess Miriam dancing in the Bible. Tonight, so close to the stars, she felt a powerful connection to the spiritual realm.
The dance finished, and a group of women, including Tersa and Bright Flower, stepped forward. One picked up a rattle and swung it in graceful, rhythmic arcs while all the ladies sang the familiar, timeless words of the Doxology.
Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Soonie joined in, along with many others. They pressed in closer. Even those who were followers of the old ways put down their soup cups and paused in their conversation.
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen
At the final ‘Amen,” a silence settled over the hillside.
A Presence trickled over Soonie like warm honey, filling her from the inside out. Love, so pure and strong she could hardly endure it, poured into her soul. She stumbled closer to the fire and fell on her knees, hands raised. Oh thank you God. Thank you for the beauty of tonight. Thank you for all you have done for us. Thank you, thank you!
The Comanche Girl's Prayer, Texas Women of Spirit Book 2 Page 9