The Comanche Girl's Prayer, Texas Women of Spirit Book 2 Read online

  “What are these trenches, running beside the path?” Soonie asked Molly.

  “They keep the water from the homes so they won’t be washed down by the rain. Most of the water goes into the gardens.”

  “Wise prospectors.” Soonie squinted up the hill. “But why would they put so much thought and hard work into gardening?”

  “We dug the trenches,” Molly said. “Did Uncle Isak tell you about Lone Warrior? He built the water way.”

  “Yes, I met him on the road.” Soonie’s grip on the handle of her carpet bag tightened. “He did not seem to want me here.”

  Molly shrugged. “He is a wild man. Sometimes I think Lone Warrior is an old soul in a new body. He may burst from his anger, like the wineskins.”

  “The old wine in the new wineskins? Have you read the Bible?” Soonie’s heart leapt. Could my new home belong to those who believe the same way I do? It would make this transition so much easier.

  “Yes, and I believe its words. I have given my heart to the true Creator.” Molly’s smile wavered. “But Grandmother Eagle does not. She is the Eagle Doctor of the tribe. She puts her faith in spirit animals, in Comanche herbs and magic.”

  The two girls reached the door of a small home. Whitewashed sides gleamed in the orange rays of the setting sun.

  Molly tugged on the handle and placed a finger on her lips. “Shhh. Grandmother may be napping.”

  Soonie followed Molly into the house. A strange odor hung in the air, much like her g

  randpa’s tobacco back home but with a stronger, earthier scent.

  Two small windows let in slotted sunlight. Even after Soonie’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, she could only pick out vague shapes. Perhaps that was a table over there, with pots stacked neatly on the wooden surface. The glow catching her eye must be a stove.

  The darkness was interrupted by a spark as Molly struck a flint. It turned into a bigger glow when she lit a lantern’s wick, which spread out to reveal colors and textures in the light.

  Larger pots lined the walls. Above them were shelves filled with jars, skins. And books? Almost as many books as the schoolhouse back home. All shapes and sizes, at least two dozen. They seemed out of place in the otherwise primitive home.

  From a pile of blankets in the corner, smoke curled and created eerie shapes on the lantern light. The blankets shifted, and a wizened face, wrinkled as a peach pit, poked out at the girls. Tiny eyes, sunk deep in sockets, blinked.

  Soonie stiffened and tried to smile.

  “Grandmother, this is Susannah.”

  “I am honored to meet you.” Soonie held out her hand. The beady eyes regarded her hand, and looked away. I need to find a new way to greet people.

  “She has traveled far. May I show her our room?”

  Soonie had all but forgotten the carpet bag, gripped in her hands, though it had banged her knees all the way up the hill. Lowering the bag to the floor she rubbed her fingers together, trying to coax feeling back into them.

  In the close quarters, the stench coming from Soonie’s own self was horrendous. I shall vomit if I have to stand here much longer. These poor ladies, I’m surprised they aren’t begging me to wash. Do they not notice? A new idea struck her. Perhaps they do notice, but are terribly polite. The more she thought about this, the more she felt it was true.

  Grandmother Eagle placed a corncob pipe between her cracked lips and puffed. Long, thin fingers removed the stem again and she stared at Soonie for a very long time. She finally spoke, mostly in Comanche, with a few English words peppered in. “You have the white man’s faith, then, like Molly. It is as I’ve thought. The old ways will pass, the new ones will live. The white man will not rest until the old fires have burned out.”

  Soonie did not know what to say, so she remained quiet. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. This feeling had only come over her a few times in her life. It’s like the Bible says. We fight not against flesh and blood, but against spirits and principalities.

  “What good will the lessons you bring be, girl?” the old woman continued in a voice as raspy and dry as last fall’s leaves. “Since Molly could toddle along the path, I taught her the way of the eagle doctor. She would not listen. I spoke of the old and powerful magic from our forefather’s dawn. She did not heed my words.”

  “New ideas are useful, Grandmother,” Molly gestured toward the shelves. “My books have showed me many ways to help people.”

  Grandmother Eagle raised a gnarled hand. “Susannah does not wish to hear our squabbles. Take her to our room.”

  Molly dipped her head and beckoned to Soonie, who picked up her carpet bag once more. The younger girl led her through a side door. “You will sleep in here, with Grandmother and me.”

  The room was tiny, smaller than her grandma’s pantry back home. Three small bunks lined the walls, with scarce space between the head of one and the footrest of the next. Neatly folded bundles of cloth were stacked on the floor in-between. More shelves sat at eye-level.

  Molly pointed to an empty one. “This space is for you. I have a few things to do, but I’ll return in a little while. Please, feel free to get settled.” She went back to the kitchen.

  Having once shared a tent at a lumber camp with three other women, Soonie was no stranger to small spaces. But the walls were so close, if she stood in the middle of the room and stretched out her arms, she could almost brush them with her fingertips. Tenderness tugged at her heart. These people had so little, and they were sharing it with her. Even if Grandmother Eagle does not wish me to be here.

  It only took a short time to arrange her spare clothing, books, and keepsakes in their designated place. Weariness overwhelmed her, and she fought a sudden, inexplicable urge to curl up on the little cot and cry her eyes out.

  “Come with me,” Molly appeared at the door, white teeth shining in the dim light. “I’ve poured some hot water in the washbasin for you.”

  In the living area, a brightly woven blanket had been hung in the corner.

  “Praise the Father,” Soonie breathed, as she caught sight of steam creeping through the crack, like wispy fingers, beckoning her in.

  The items she had longed for were waiting behind the blanket. A small washtub with water, an ancient scrubbing brush, and a lump of homemade soap. Bathing was much the same way back home, when she didn’t go out to the woods to wash in the river.

  The water swirled over her arms, and the weariness of the road washed off her shoulders.

  On the other side of the blanket, an old hymn, sung in Molly’s sweet voice, drifted from the cooking area. The song was answered by a raspy, rhythmic chant in the Comanche tongue.

  Soonie stared at the ceiling, almost expecting to see the spirits waging battle above her head. I can’t see it, but I can feel it. God, please keep me strong in this divided home.

  4 Breakfast With Molly

  Soonie’s eyes fluttered open in the half-light of dawn. Even though her muscles had been overworked for years on the farm, she was not accustomed to days spent on horseback. Stifling a groan, she stood and dressed. The other beds were already empty, their woven blankets pulled tight and smooth.

  No matter how early Soonie had woken at home, Grandma and Grandpa were always up before her, rocking by the fire in chairs brought all the way from Sweden. Wizened heads would be bent over Bibles, hands clasped in prayer.

  The scent of fresh corn bread drifted into the room. Her stomach grumbled.

  The new Bible was hidden beneath a few other keepsakes on the shelf. Pulling it out, she read a few verses in the dim light. She’d already read every page of her old Bible, but each time she picked up the book she would see something new, or a verse would speak to her in a different way. Grandpa had explained this when she was a little girl. “That’s why the Bible is called the Living Word. Fresh revelation comes with each reading, because the Holy Spirit gives you understanding when you need it the most. The Holy Spirit is our advocate, our comfort, and our friend.”

 
Grandpa didn’t always go to church on Sunday, but he knew more about God and the Bible than any preacher Soonie had met. She figured he must wait for everyone else to trundle off in the buckboard on Sundays, and go into the woods to have his own sort of church.

  Part of Soonie sympathized with this habit. She too felt closest to God while walking in the woods, or when she danced in a forest clearing. But she also enjoyed worship and fellowship with other believers.

  A sharp pang hit her insides again, and this time it wasn’t from hunger. She missed her family so much.

  She brushed these thoughts away, along with a tear, and put her Bible back on the shelf. This won’t do at all. Not on my first day of school.

  Molly lit up when Soonie came into the main room. She gestured to a tin plate, where corn bread was already sopping up the broth from pinto beans. “Eat.”

  “It smells heavenly. Thank you so much.” Soonie sank down on the folded blanket which served as a cushion. A quick glance around the room showed no sign of Grandmother Eagle.

  Molly saw her looking. “Grandma is out in her herb garden.”

  “Oh. All right.” Soonie bowed her head for a quick, silent prayer.

  “You don’t have to worry,” Molly said when Soonie opened her eyes. “Grandmother and I respect each other’s rituals.”

  What rituals does an Eagle Doctor practice?

  Soonie’s mind swept over her mother’s stories, tales of bone dances and mystical chants and ancient curses, but she couldn’t remember anything specific. She shuddered. Though wishing to learn more about her people, this was a rock she would rather leave unturned.

  The beans rolled over her tongue, mealy and cooked just right, sweetened with a touch of molasses. A nibble of crisp cornbread went with them perfectly. Before she took another bite, she contemplated the spoon. “Where does the food you can’t grow here come from?”

  “Trade with the soldiers,” Molly said.

  Soonie gazed around the room at the colorful items hanging from hooks on the walls. “I remember Uncle Isak bringing some things down to trade. He never told us how dangerous it must have been for him. In fact, he didn’t tell us about the settlement at all. Until he asked me to teach, I thought that’s where he was, all this time. What do you barter here?”

  Molly held out her wrist and shook a colorful bracelet. “We make jewelry and blankets. The soldiers at the fort pay us with food and tools, then sell the items in Dallas, or give them as gifts to family members and sweethearts back home. In the city, these things can be sold for more money, but we are happy with food and clothing. We don’t need much.”

  Soonie examined the bright beads. “These are beautiful. Do you make them from rocks?”

  “No. In this hill is a copse of clay. We form the beads from the earth, bake the shapes, and color them with paints made from minerals and plants.”

  “I have an old wampum belt from my mother, passed down through her family. I left it at home for my nephews to keep for me,” Soonie said.

  Molly twisted the bracelet’s leather ends around her finger. “My mother died of tuberculosis when I was ten. Grandmother performed all the rituals, and said all the prayers. Nothing helped. She said the spirits wished for my mother to come and walk with them.

  “After my mother took her last breath in so much pain and suffering, I decided to study white man’s medicine.” She clenched the bracelet in her fist. “I could not accept the Comanche answer.”

  Soonie reached out to still the trembling hand. “I lost my mother when I was six. She died of some kind of fever. No one knew what it was. The white doctor in town refused to treat her.”

  Soonie recognized the sorrow in Molly’s eyes. A dull, throbbing ache that could be sharpened to a point with a single word or thought. “We have so much in common,” she murmured.

  “We are related, in a way.” Molly stood and cleared the dishes from Soonie’s breakfast. “My grandmother and your grandmother were husband-sisters.”

  Soonie forgot to protest about Molly cleaning her mess. “You mean--you mean your grandmother married my grandfather after my grandma died?”

  “No!” Molly laughed. “You should see your eyes! They’re wide as sinkholes in the field! No. Comanche tradition allows a man to marry more than one wife. So your mother and my mother were half-sisters.”

  Soonie swept a few remaining crumbs into her hand, rose and threw them into the stove. “I knew Comanches had this custom, but I didn’t realize my own family members had been a part. Mother always told me grandmother was a God-fearing woman!”

  Molly shrugged. “She probably didn’t have a choice.”

  “Poor Grandmother,” Soonie closed her eyes. Did she even love her husband? She had never thought to pity her grandmother, captured and adopted by the Kiowa when a mere infant, then sold to the Comanche at the age of eight. She had only envied her life of intrigue and adventure.

  “Women don’t have much say among our people.” said Molly. “Except for Grandmother Eagle. As the Eagle Doctor, she holds the most honored place in the settlement. The Kiowa traditions are different. Their women used to own the houses, and sometimes even went to war. I think that has helped even things out a little here at camp.”

  “Lone Warrior doesn’t seem to have respect for women,” said Soonie.

  Molly pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t say he feels that way about all women, just outsiders. He lives with his father and brother. No women in their home.”

  Molly pulled a cloth from a shelf and spread it over her hand. “Our mothers were best friends. They painted this together.”

  The deerskin had been worked until it was soft and supple. Two women danced across the shawl, flowers marking their path.

  “Oh, Molly, it’s beautiful.” Soonie knew the woman with the orange dress was her mother, by something in the painted smile and the twinkling eyes. And above her mother’s head, a bird in flight. “Sparrow. That was her Comanche name.”

  “Yes.” Molly carefully folded the cloth and put it back in its place. “And because our mothers were half-sisters that makes us cousins, of sorts.”

  “How wonderful! I thought Uncle Isak was my only relative here.” Soonie gave Molly a quick hug. “I just wonder why my mother never told me about our grandmothers.”

  Molly dipped her head to the side. “Maybe some things were too painful to remember.”

  “Perhaps.” Soonie looked around for water to pour into the dish bucket. “Let me help you finish cleaning up before I go.”

  “Don’t worry about that today,” said Molly. “School will start soon, and you will want to prepare your teaching room.”

  “I haven’t even been to the school house yet. What else should I take with me?”

  Molly shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t been to school since I was ten years old, at the reservation. I tried to teach some of the children their letters, but I didn’t have much patience for it and grandmother needed me here.”

  After gathering a small stack of books in her shawl, Soonie stepped outside. The sky was golden with the freshly-bloomed day, and heat hadn’t yet begun to shimmer from the ground.

  Many women worked in the gardens and hauled water from the stream bubbling out of the rocks on the east side of the settlement. The gardens had to be watered in the cool of the morning, or the liquid would evaporate as soon as it touched the ground. Soonie saw beans, corn and pumpkins growing, along with many other vegetables.

  Tersa was busy weeding in a melon patch beside a tipi.

  “Hello.” Soonie waved.

  Soonie!” Tersa came over to the garden’s edge. “School begins today?”

  “Yes, I’m excited.”

  “My daughter will be there. I will be glad for her to learn.”

  “You have a daughter?” Eight days traveling together . . . how did I not know?

  “Yes, yes, my daughter is Laura. You met her yesterday, along with the other children.” She turned her head. “Laura, the teacher is here!”


  A girl, the one Soonie remembered asking about ‘white people treasures,’ stepped out of the tipi. Her clothes were clean and crisp, her hair combed and tied back with a ribbon. “Miss Eckhart,” she breathed. “You came to my house?”

  “Why don’t you call me Miss Soonie? And would you like to walk to the schoolhouse with me?” Soonie asked. “I can show you my things on the way, like I promised.”

  “Let me get my lunch.” The little girl ran back into the tent.

  Tersa shook her head and smiled. “She has been so excited about you coming. I want her to learn. She knows how to read a little, but soon she will be able to read the Bible to us.” Tersa clasped her hands together, creating a tiny shower of dirt.

  Soonie hadn’t considered the added benefits to the adults of the tribe. Perhaps I can teach some of the older people as well, if they’d like to learn.

  Laura came back, with a small satchel in her hand. “I have bread for everyone, for lunch.”

  “I’m sure it will be delicious.”

  They walked to the schoolhouse. Laura darted a glance at Soonie’s bag, but didn’t say anything.

  ‘Oh, yes, let me show you what I have.” Soonie pulled out an oval locket. She opened it to reveal two photographs, one in each half. “These pictures are of my mother and father. Aren’t they lovely?”

  “How beautiful.” Laura touched the locket with a trembling finger.

  “It’s the most precious thing I own.” Soonie fastened it around her neck. “Here is something else belonging to my mother. A wedding present from my father.” She unwrapped a small piece of flannel to reveal a silver comb, with three dark garnets that shone like drops of wild grape jam.

  “Oh,” was all Laura could say.

  “And I was going to save these for the classroom, but I’ll give you one now.” Soonie pulled out a peppermint stick. “I have a piece for each student.”

  Laura’s eyes grew round as she took the treat. “This is to eat?”