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

  Instead of these words she said, “Our educational supplies are extremely limited. I realize books would be too much to ask for, but perhaps you could help us procure some slates?”

  Captain Wilkerson stroked his beard. “Slates, you say? Oh yes, had those when I was a boy. Chalk and whatnot. Dangerous to acquire. Very dangerous indeed. Why would we ask for slates here, in the fort? No one questions extra clothing, food or blankets. Even some farming equipment can slide by without a problem.”

  The shavings continued to snake into the pile. So many moments of silence ticked by that Soonie began to wonder if the captain had forgotten they were sitting there.

  Finally, Uncle Isak leaned forward, resting his chin on steepled fingers. He cleared his throat.

  A fly buzzed around the room, landing on the captain’s knife hilt. He blew it off and glanced up. “I have a plan.”

  Soonie let out her caught breath and shifted in her seat. Sweat slid down her calves, pooling into her moccasin boots.

  “In a few weeks, a couple of my men will be going to the nearest town to order supplies from a shopkeeper there. I doubt he’ll have the slates in stock, and it might take a month or two for him to get them, but he’s a greedy man, and not likely to ask questions.”

  Soonie jiggled her leg slightly, hoping the movement might send a bit of cool air beneath her chair. “And you don’t think the order will be a risk to the settlement?”

  The captain put down his knife and ran a finger over the freshly smoothed wood. “Miss Eckhart, every letter that comes through here, every padded food shipment, every extra supply is a risk for your settlement. Your uncle here and the other leaders know it.”

  Uncle Isak nodded. “But Soonie believes the slates are needed for the children’s education, and we trust her judgment.”

  A weight settled over Soonie’s shoulders like none ever placed there before. Are the slates important enough to risk everyone’s freedom? Are my letters from home so vital? How very ignorant I have been. But no, we need the slates. I’ve thought it over so many times, and I can’t think of another option.

  With a sorrowful look at his stick the captain put it down, wiped his hands on a cloth and rose.

  Soonie and Isak followed suit.

  “Thank you both for coming,” Captain Wilkerson said. “Isak, always nice to have you visit.”

  He nodded to Soonie. “I hope our paths will cross another day, Miss Eckhart.”

  “Thank you for your time.” Isak reached into the pouch slung from his waist. “We have items for trade, of course.” He placed a handful of beaded bracelets on the desk’s one clean area.

  The captain’s eyes lit up. “These are perfect. Isak, you never disappoint.”

  Isak nodded and turned to go.

  “Oh, I wanted to mention,” Captain Wilkerson spoke as Isak and Soonie reached the door. “My men have encountered a group of drifters recently. Shifty fellows. Maybe trappers. My soldiers warned them about the ‘haunted hills,’ but we can’t keep them from wandering around if they decide to explore. Wanted to make sure you knew.”

  Uncle Isak pursed his lips. “Thank you.”

  Lieutenant Ford waited for them outside the door. He escorted them past the surly guard and back to their horses.

  On the way home, Soonie contemplated the precarious situation the settlement people were in. I must remember, every day, to place my life in the hands of my Father. It’s the only place where anyone can truly be safe.

  9 Onions and Hides

  After they returned to the settlement and cared for the horses, Uncle Isak led Soonie to Brave Storm’s tipi. “We’ll stop by and tell him about the slates.”

  He called through the tent flap. “Brave Storm, maruawe! Are you there?”

  “Haw,” came a muffled reply. “Come in.”

  Uncle Isak lifted the flap and gestured for Soonie to step inside.

  Soonie paused to study the scenes of wars and achievements painted on the outside of the tent. She’d only spoken to the camp’s other leader once, and he’d barely glanced her way, only answering questions indirectly to Uncle Isak. Brave Storm seemed to prefer keeping to himself. She hadn’t seen him at any of the settlement’s events.

  She took a hesitant step through the flap. The area inside the tipi was larger than one would think from seeing the outside, about twelve feet across the middle. The scent of sweat and animal hides thickened the air.

  Because winter had not yet come, cooking was done outside. Most of the space was devoted to sleeping and storage. Clay pots, baskets and clothing were stacked neatly by the walls. An array of knives, spears and bows hung from the support posts.

  Brave Storm sat in the corner, with a hunk of cornbread in his hand. No feathers adorned his graying braids, and a simple yellow streak ran along his cheekbones. His shoulders were thrown back, and anyone could tell by the way he carried himself that he was a man who commanded respect. “Isak, how goes the day?” he asked.

  Soonie shrank back against the tipi’s side. She wasn’t afraid of the Kiowan leader, but she had no wish to be in a place where she didn’t belong.

  “We have returned from the fort,” said Uncle Isak. “Captain Wilkerson said he could arrange for the slates.”

  The older man grunted. “He is a good man to provide such things for our children.”

  Uncle Isak dipped his head. “Yes. But he gave other news. A group of drifters happened by the fort a few days ago. Captain Wilkerson said they might be trappers, and we should keep watch in case they come too close."

  Brave Storm scowled. Putting down his food, he rose to his feet and went to the sleeping area. He kicked at a large pile of blankets.

  The covers moved, and Lone Warrior sat up, blinking. “Wh-what?” His eyes widened when he saw Soonie.

  Soonie gripped a support pole to keep from stumbling back. She turned her head and bit her lip, suppressing a giggle. He looked just like a baby owl, wakened in the daytime.

  “Isak tells me there are strangers in the area. How did you not know this? You must keep better watch.” Brave Storm clenched his fists.

  Lone Warrior’s back stiffened. He pressed folded arms against his bare chest. “Father, we saw these men days ago, two miles away. They wouldn’t know day from night-time, and a child could see their trail from the hilltop. We are in no danger from them.”

  “Still, you did not tell me.” Brave Storm hissed. Soonie almost expected to see flashes of lightning shoot from his eyes.

  Lone Warrior stood and stretched. He wore buckskin trousers and nothing else. He grabbed an onion from a basket and took a bite from the raw vegetable, the pungent smell permeating the tent. “They posed no threat,” he said between bites. “I did not wish to trouble you with news of vermin.”

  Soonie glanced from the tipi’s flap to Uncle Isak’s face. Should I leave? Comanche and Kiowa men did not often discuss important matters in front of women. It seemed as though, caught up in this argument, they had forgotten she was there.

  I should have gone straight home.

  Lone Warrior did not have his porcupine cap on today. His hair was sleek and black, parted in the middle and gathered into two thin braids. His shoulders were wide, brown as oak leaves in the winter.

  I wish he would put on a shirt. Even though many of the settlement’s men walked around bare-chested, Soonie still felt uncomfortable seeing people traipse around in almost no clothes.

  Lone Warrior caught Soonie’s eye. His mouth quirked up at the corners.

  Brave Storm kneeled down and poked at the fire with a stick. “You must stay close, my son. There’s no reason for those men to be in this place unless they are coming for something valuable. We aren’t the only ones who know the muskrat and beaver are plentiful here, and people in the city pay a great deal of money for pelts. If someone found us, they could turn our people in for a reward and take what little we own. Men like that live only to steal and destroy.”

  Lone Warrior threw his onion peel into the fire
. “We are Kiowa. We do not skulk like coyotes in the grass. Those men should not hunt for trouble. They might find it.”

  These last words were delivered in a low, dangerous tone that sent a shiver down Soonie’s spine. Does he not care about the safety of the children? His own brother could be at risk. A few drifters may not pose much of a threat, but what if they brought in a posse? Soonie tightened her lips, knowing her thoughts would not be welcomed or heeded.

  Brave Storm rose and stepped over to his son, leaning close until their foreheads almost touched. “We have had this talk. I fought the last wars against the white man, when your feet did not yet have the strength to move you across the earth. Hundreds of men, women and children fell around me. I slipped on their blood as I ran away. If we wish to have freedom, we will lay low.”

  “How can that be freedom?” Lone Warrior snorted. His eye caught Soonie’s once more. “And why has this white woman,” he spat the words, “been allowed in to listen to our talks? I still think she is a spy, sent to find our weaknesses.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Soonie could hold her tongue no longer. “I’m here to help the children of my people. I did not choose my heritage, but I am proud of both sides.”

  Uncle Isak wiped his forehead. “Soonie . . .’

  She turned to face Brave Storm. “I realize the heart of a woman holds little value in this place, but I promise mine beats strong and true. I would never betray you.”

  Brave Storm rubbed his chin. “I do not fear the white blood in your veins. I am not afraid of Isak or those in this camp with white ancestors. I am more worried about young men who travel the countryside with no care for what happens to anyone else.”

  Lone Warrior’s face grew dark, and his fingers twitched over his knife-hilt. “I only go out for the hunt, to keep watch, and to pray. The game is scarce, with the fort nearby. The town to the north continues to expand its hunting territory. I’ve had to travel further to get enough food for everyone.”

  Isak bowed his head. “We will have to manage with what game we can find nearby, the stores of canned and dried food, and our fall gardens. At least until the winter snows drive these men to the warmth of their towns. Until we know they are gone for sure, everyone must stay close to the settlement, for the safety of all.”

  The younger man uttered a Kiowan word Soonie was sure wasn’t polite. He pulled up the tent flap, gave her one more withering look, and ducked out.

  “I’m going home. Good night, Uncle Isak. Brave Storm.” Soonie gave a tiny curtsey and left the tent.

  ###

  When Soonie walked into the door of Grandmother Eagle’s home, she found Molly working at the small table. Pungent and spicy scents wafted from an array of herbs and plants spread out before her.

  “Hello! I was wondering when you would return.” Molly gave Soonie a hug and went back to sorting through the piles.

  “What is all this?” Soonie picked up a bunch of dried yellow flowers and sniffed at them. A cloud of pollen puffed out from the petals and made her sneeze.

  “You have a yellow nose,” Molly giggled. “Here, let me help you.” She dusted the powder off Soonie’s face with the corner of her shawl.

  “Sorry.” Soonie put the flowers back.

  “I’m looking through Grandmother’s herbs. The cold season always brings sickness and ailments. I want to be sure we have enough supplies to make medicines. Though many of Grandmother Eagle’s remedies are based on her understanding of spirits, some of these herbs are also used for physical healing.”

  Soonie nodded. “I recognize some of the plants my grandmother gathered. She always helped people in town when they got sick, at least, before the doctor came. People still ask her for advice sometimes, when they can’t afford the doctor. Some folks come for prayer as much as anything. Grandma Louise prays for everyone who walks through the door.”

  Molly set a basket on the table and packed some of the bags and containers into it. “Isn’t it interesting, how our grandmothers are so alike, yet so different?”

  Soonie pictured the two elderly women together, one thin and wizened, one plump and pink. Both possessed such wisdom. “I almost think they might be friends.”

  “Perhaps.” Molly finished clearing the table and tapped a finger against her lips. “I’m going to have to gather more plants before the first frost. We go through so many tinctures and some will be gone soon.”

  “Are the plants far away? Because Captain Wilkerson said a group of strange men have been wandering around the hills. Lone Warrior saw them too. Brave Storm said he wants everyone to stay close to the settlement for a while, until the men are gone.”

  Molly ran a cornhusk broom over the table, the dried husks making ‘scritch-scratch’ noises over the surface. “Grandmother Eagle will speak to him. She has the final say in camp, did you know that? The eagle doctor is respected above all others, male or female. I will be allowed to gather these plants, for the health of our people.”

  “Then I will come along,” Soonie decided. “I used to gather herbs with my grandma, so I know some of the plants to look for. We won’t have school this week, the children are taking a break to help with winter preparations.”

  “We’ll have to go to the eastern hills.” Molly hung the broom at its place beside the wash basin. “The terrain is too rough for horses and it takes two or three hours to walk there.”

  “Wylder and I used to go for day-long rambles in the woods all the time,” Soonie replied.

  “It’s settled,” said Molly. “Tomorrow is Sunday, so we will go on Monday.”

  Soonie filled a pot with water and placed it on top of the ancient stove. A day to spend in the woods with my friend. She would have danced around the room if not for the danger of hitting the wall and bringing the whole home down around their ears. She could hardly wait.

  10 Gathering

  An autumn sun rose over the trees, stretching out colorful rays in praise to the sky. Cool air whispered over Soonie’s face, as though apologizing for the past misery of summer.

  Molly climbed the hill like a squirrel, without missing a step.

  A little spring bubbled from a crack in the side of the hill and flowed through a miniature forest of springy ferns. All types of flora grew in the fertile soil, soaked in the minerals the spring produced.

  Grandmother Eagle had not bothered to ask permission of the settlement’s leaders. When Molly mentioned Brave Storm’s decree, she had snorted.

  “I will pray to the eagle spirits. They will protect you,” she had said, waving them out the door.

  I’m glad I put my faith in the Almighty and not a bird. Soonie squinted up at the azure sky, filled with feathery clouds. She hadn’t even seen an eagle since she arrived at the settlement, only a few red-tailed hawks and dozens of buzzards. And we don’t really want any help from them.

  A patch of wood sorrel grew near the path and she bent down to gather a handful. The clover-shaped leaves had a mild sour flavor, similar to a lemon, that would go well with their lunch of dried meat.

  Molly pointed up the ridge. “The day is passing quickly, and I would like to get to the top of this hill before noon. I’ve come to this place often, and some of our most needed herbs grow up there.” She continued up the ridge.

  Soonie studied the quiver slung across Molly’s thin shoulders as she followed. The long bag was made of hide and decorated with porcupine quills that were cut into small segments and sewn in rows. The edge was trimmed with elk teeth, which Soonie had learned were particularly rare.

  “Wylder and I made bows and arrows when we were children,” Soonie said. “But my quiver wasn’t nearly as fancy as yours.”

  “The bow and quiver belonged to my father. And this arrow was his as well.” Molly pulled out the longest arrow, which was tipped with an obsidian arrowhead. “It also belonged to my grandfather. No matter how many times they used it in the hunt, it was never broken, and they always found it again.”

  Soonie traced the chipped surfac
e of the gleaming stone. “It’s beautiful.”

  Placing the arrow back into the quiver, Molly began to climb again, speaking over her shoulder. “For a very long time, Comanche women were not allowed to carry weapons, but here the danger is too great to go without some way to defend ourselves. So the custom has changed.”

  Soonie touched the hilt of her own knife. “Seems like a silly rule. I’m glad it’s different now.”

  Molly turned. “Yes, many changes have come to pass, and more will follow. Women of most places have rules holding them back, don’t they?”

  “Yes.” Soonie considered the few wealthy women she knew. Ladies who chose to parade around in ribcage-crushing corsets and hats so large they could barely move their necks for fear the headwear would plummet to the ground. Women who spent their days picking out garbled tunes on a piano or doing needlepoint. “I believe some of the boundaries have been built with our own hands.”

  The girls stopped often to gather berries, stems and leaves. On occasion, Molly used a sharp stone to dig for roots. They stored all these plants in pouches, slung around their hips. Further up the ridge they traveled, crumbles of dirt sliding down in steady streams beneath their feet.

  Long past noon, the two girls had gathered all they could carry. Almost at the top of the bluff, they stopped for a lunch of bread and dried meat, along with Soonie’s sorrel.

  Molly patted a bulging sack. “Grandmother Eagle will be pleased. We’ve had better luck than usual this year, probably because of the rains.”

  Soonie leaned back against a tree and closed her eyes. Her thoughts wandered, as they usually did, hundreds of miles to home. I wonder what Zillia is doing? One letter had arrived from her friend, with the assurance that all was well with the baby. Zillia was several months along now. Soonie pictured her, round with child and glowing with happiness. The doctor had confirmed Zillia’s guess; the baby would arrive sometime in February.

  Soonie nibbled on a pink sorrel blossom. Pink . . . surely the baby would be a girl. After all the shenanigans Orrie had put his sister through, it seemed only fair.