Comanche Woman

by Joan Johnston

  “Good,” He Decides It said. “Now leave me, both of you. I have work to do.”

  When He Decides It was alone with Many Horses, he put the buffalo tail in his mouth and blew on the wound to stop the bleeding. After burning the spines off the prickly pear cactus, he slit it and pressed the open surfaces of the cactus against the flesh all along the wound. Then he bound the whole of it snugly with rawhide.

  “Now the healing is in the hands of the Great Spirit,” he announced.

  “I do not plan . . . to die,” Many Horses gritted out. “And when I am whole . . . I will offer ponies for your sister.”

  The puhakut shrugged.

  “Send Long Quiet to me,” Many Horses said. “And tell She Touches First that . . . I want to speak . . . with her.”

  “As you wish.” The puhakut rose to leave, but was stopped by Many Horses’ pain-laced voice.

  “And, puhakut . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “I do not forgive you . . . for this.”

  He Decides It met Many Horses’ fierce glare. “I did not ask your forgiveness.” He turned and left.

  Long Quiet entered the tipi and knelt beside the wounded man. Sensing his presence, Many Horses smiled, although his eyes remained closed. “Haints?”

  “I am here,” Long Quiet said.

  “Do you think Shadow . . . would make a good wife?”

  Long Quiet’s eyes narrowed as he speculated on why Many Horses had asked such a question. Tentatively, he responded, “She was not raised in the Comanche ways.”

  Many Horses chuckled. “I could not expect . . . very many ponies for such a woman . . . could I?”

  Long Quiet’s heart lodged in his throat and made it difficult for him to speak. “What?”

  “So I will . . . give her to you.”

  “What!”

  Many Horses took a shallow breath and huffed it out again. “Am I mistaken? You do not wish . . . to have her?”

  “She will not have me. She does not wish to leave Little Deer,” Long Quiet admitted.

  “You would not take her . . . despite her wishes?”

  “No.”

  Many Horses’ brow furrowed in thought. “Then I will have to find another . . . to take her.”

  “You will not keep your most prized possession?”

  Many Horses’ voice was low but firm. “I should have obeyed . . . the puhakut’s decree. I will return Shadow’s medicine . . . and take She Touches First as paraibo. Shadow cannot stay . . . in my tipi.”

  “I will take her,” Long Quiet said.

  “Good.”

  “For a few weeks I must go where she cannot follow. Will you keep her safe here for me?”

  “Yes. But you must claim her . . . as your wife . . . before all in the village . . . and take her to your pallet.”

  “It shall be done. Now, as a brother, I have a favor to ask.”

  “Name it . . . and it is yours.”

  “I have no ponies of my own within this village to offer for Shadow.”

  “I have asked no bride price,” Many Horses said.

  “I would not shame Shadow by taking her without a proper gift. And I want all in the village to know the worth I place upon my wife. Thus will they fear my wrath should they seek to harm her.”

  Many Horses nodded in agreement. “That is wise.”

  “So I need your herd of ponies.”

  “All of them?”

  Long Quiet smiled. “All of them. Except your favorite war pony, of course.”

  Many Horses returned the smile. “Of course. It shall be as you say.”

  “I will deliver them to her tipi this very afternoon.”

  Long Quiet had barely left the tipi when She Touches First entered. She hesitated near the opening. She had begged He Decides It to tell her whether Many Horses was going to die. Her brother had told her that all men must die sometime and, when she had looked stricken, he had given the only reassurance he could: Many Horses would live yet awhile, and if the poison sickness did not kill him, for many years to come.

  She Touches First’s nerves were strung as tightly as a fox skin on a willow hoop. Her whole future depended on what Many Horses chose to do with the truth he’d learned from He Decides It.

  “Come. Sit beside me,” Many Horses said.

  She Touches First contained her emotions with difficulty. She could hear the pain in his voice and she shared his agony. Yet she had spent too long denying her love for Many Horses to feel comfortable expressing it now, even though she feared they would have only a short time left in which to share their closeness.

  “Do you love me?” he asked.

  “As the earth craves water.” She hesitated, then asked, “Do you love me?”

  “As the grass loves the sun.” They still had not touched one another, nor did either make the attempt. Many Horses sighed. It was a sound of disgust, of disbelief, of frustration. “How could we . . . have believed his lies?”

  “He was my brother. He was your friend. Why should we not have believed him?”

  “Surely the love we felt . . .”

  “Our love made us vulnerable to his lies. We cannot have back the years that were taken from us.”

  His voice was weak, and she could barely hear him as he said, “But can we share . . . the years to come. Will you share my tipi as paraibo? Will you let me love you . . . until the day the sun rises no more . . . on my face?”

  She Touches First blinked at the tears that gathered in her eyes. He had offered her a future she had only dreamed could be hers at a time when she had no certain hope it would last more than a few hours. Surely the Great Spirit would not let him die now, not now, when he had yet to plant the seeds that would become a new generation of Comanche warriors.

  “From now on,” she said, “our lives will be as one. We will share the time the Great Spirit gives us . . . together.”

  She Touches First reached out a hand to touch Many Horses’ face. He was unconscious. It was likely he had not even heard her answer. She forced herself to remain calm. Many Horses would not die. The strength of their love would give him the will to live. She did not doubt it. Her fingertips traced the line of his mouth before she lowered her lips to taste his.

  “I will give you many sons to take into battle with you,” she whispered. Then, because she was afraid to face the years ahead without him, she added, “Please, please do not die.”

  Chapter 10

  BAY HEARD THE THUNDERING OF A THOUSAND HOOVES AND searched for Little Deer to rescue her from the stampede until she realized the child was safe, playing near the stream with the other children. She raced from the tipi in time to see Long Quiet circling two hundred and fifty ponies around her tipi. She knew what such a thing would have meant to a young Comanche woman, but she hardly dared to imagine it could have that meaning to her, especially when she saw the grim look on Long Quiet’s face.

  She stood her ground as Long Quiet dismounted and walked toward her, aware of the gaping Indians who’d left their tipis and clustered around to find out what all the fuss was about.

  “I have come to claim you as my paraibo,” Long Quiet said loudly enough to be clearly heard by several of those close by.

  Bay bristled at his arrogant tone of voice, which assumed her acceptance. “What if I refuse your offer?”

  He stepped closer, so his next words could be heard only by her. “Of course you can always return my gift. But I do not advise it. You belong to me now.”

  “My place is with—”

  “—your husband.” A powerful hand grasped her arm, pulling her along, until she suddenly found herself blinking at the dimness inside her tipi.

  “Many Horses is taking She Touches First as his wife,” Long Quiet said. “He would have given you to someone else unless I claimed you. Tonight we will share a blanket. And you cannot—will not—say no.”

  “But—”

  “I will be waiting in my tipi when the sun leaves the sky, Shadow, my wife. You will come
to me then.”

  He turned on his heel and left her standing alone. Bay sank to the dirt floor, holding her head in her hands. What was happening? Had Long Quiet really just claimed her for his bride? He hadn’t sounded like a man terribly pleased by his good fortune. What would happen to her when he left the village? Did he plan to take her with him? The haven she’d created for herself in the Comanche village was crumbling around her ears.

  She walked proudly from the tipi, her head held high, and began to drive the herd of ponies toward Many Horses’ pasture—the sign that she’d accepted Long Quiet’s extravagant proposal of marriage.

  Despite her resolve, as the sun set, Bay searched for chores that would delay the time when she must submit to her new husband. It was nearly dark when she collected a kettle and detoured to the creek to draw water, thinking she would need it to bathe before the night was done. The darkness had never frightened her, yet tonight there were shadows moving around her which, although she peered at them intently, never materialized into anything. She’d almost reached the edge of the village when a raspy voice accosted her.

  “Devil woman! Evil one! Go away from here. We do not want you among us!”

  Bay whirled to search out the source of the hissing voice, but could find no one in the shadows. “Who’s there?”

  “Leave this place. Take your evil medicine and go!” a second voice spat.

  Bay whirled back to search for the other figure, but again saw nothing but shadows. “I will not harm you,” she cried. “Please, who are you?”

  The taunts were terrifying. Bay stood still, waiting, but only silence greeted her. For a moment she debated whether to go on to the creek or flee to Long Quiet’s tipi. She knew the fears of the villagers had increased when, so closely following Many Horses’ injury and the accusation of sorcery by She Touches First, the hunt had been a failure.

  The hunters had straggled back to the village in the late afternoon, surly, angry, because for some inexplicable reason the buffalo had turned at the last moment and escaped death at the precipice. Now the herd was miles from camp and still running. The villagers would have to follow the shaggy beasts and hope they could find them again soon. Otherwise they would spend the winter hungry.

  Bay knew that tonight many a mouth watered at the thought of what had been missed as a result of the failed hunt. She could see it all in her mind’s eye—the children crowded around begging for portions of raw liver covered with the contents of the gallbladder, the women feasting on a mixture of raw brains and the marrow from leg bones served in a dish made from the slaughtered buffalo’s ribs, the men stuffing themselves with the roasted haunch.

  It was no wonder she’d felt more eyes on her than usual. From overheard conversations, it was clear the entire village blamed her for the forfeited feast—as well as Many Horses’ injury. Bay shivered when she heard another angry whisper. Unfortunately, she knew no way to counter their accusations. She could only ignore them. Bay picked up the kettle she’d dropped and continued on her journey to the creek.

  Outwardly, she remained calm. Inwardly, her mind was turning every shadow into something horrifying. As she gradually became aware of a presence stalking her, her vivid imagination ran wild. It could be a roaming Tonkawa. It could be a hungry puma. Or it could be someone who wanted to make sure she could cause no more bad medicine for the village.

  Whoever or whatever it was, she didn’t plan to be a willing victim. She dipped the kettle into the creek, but only filled it halfway, so she’d be able to lift it easily. The enormous shadow moving closer sent her into action.

  Bay recognized Long Quiet too late to stop the forward motion of the kettle, and the water drenched him from head to foot.

  “I . . . I’m sorry! I thought you were . . .”

  How ridiculous her fears seemed now! How could she admit them to the forbidding man who faced her? She dropped the kettle and fled, uncaring where she ran, simply needing to escape the humiliating situation and the wrath she felt sure would fall upon her for her rash act.

  “Don’t run from me!”

  Long Quiet’s shouted warning set Bay’s heart to pounding in real fear. She looked back and saw him pursuing her. As it turned out, she was heading away from the village, so there was no hope someone would interfere and save her. Not that anyone would have dared to come between a warrior and his wife, she thought.

  Bay scooted into a gully and followed along it looking for a place to hide. Just as she found a narrow crevice through which she might escape, Long Quiet’s arms closed around her, dragging her back into his wet embrace, soaking her from shoulders to buttocks.

  “I told you not to run,” he snarled into her ear. “Stop struggling!”

  Bay moaned once in defeat and then sagged in his arms, panting from exertion.

  Long Quiet held the frightened woman as gently as he could, appalled at what had just happened. Did she fear and dislike him so much? He’d only meant to speak with her, to explain his feelings about the circumstances that had been thrust upon them. It was clear she wasn’t yet ready to become his wife. And yet he had no choice except to demand she come to him.

  His arms circled her waist, coming to rest beneath her breasts, and he could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she tried to catch her breath.

  “I only wished to speak with you,” he murmured in her ear. “Why did you attack me?”

  “I didn’t know it was you,” she admitted. “Then, when I’d soaked you with water, I thought you’d be angry so I—”

  “I am angry.” Long Quiet felt her tense beneath his touch. “I’m angry that you don’t trust me not to hurt you,” he said.

  Bay wished she could see his face. “I don’t know what to expect from you,” she whispered. “You said you would wait until I was willing. Now you drive ponies to my tipi and my feelings mean nothing. I’ve dreaded the sunset, not knowing what the night would bring.” She paused and sighed wearily before adding, “I don’t want to be your wife.”

  Long Quiet’s grasp tightened, the only sign of his agitation. “Do you want to return to your white family?”

  “Nothing has changed. I can’t take Little Deer with me, and I won’t leave her behind.”

  Long Quiet swallowed hard before he asked, “Is there another man you would have for your husband?”

  Bay’s eyes widened in surprise. She didn’t know how to answer him. There was no man in the village she desired for a husband, but perhaps it would help him understand her feelings if she explained to him about Jonas. “There is a man I love, but—”

  “Who is he? Is he willing to take you as his wife?”

  Bay shook her head and let it fall forward. “The man I love is from the world I left behind. I have no idea whether Jonas would be willing to marry me after . . . after everything that’s happened to me.”

  Long Quiet’s jaw clenched at the name Bay had mentioned. He’d wondered if she still cared for Jonas Harper. Now he knew, and the knowledge upset him more than he cared to admit. Long Quiet grimaced, glad Bay couldn’t see his face. He could hardly blame her for clinging to an unrequited love. Hadn’t he done the same thing all these years? Yet despite the force of events that had pushed them together too soon, it was his intention to make her his wife. If he had to wait for love to come, then he would wait.

  To be absolutely sure of what other obstacles he might be up against, he asked, “Are you certain there’s no other man in the village you would rather have?”

  “No. There’s no one else.”

  He turned her in his arms and tipped her chin up so they could look into one another’s eyes.

  “Then I don’t see that either one of us has much choice. I have taken you as wife. I am not sorry we are to be together, only sorry for the timing of it. But even that will come to some good. I know of no more sure way to stop the wagging tongues of those who would send you from this village than to make it clear that those who threaten my wife must answer to me.”

  “Their words
are only that—words.”

  “Their whispered words will send you from this place to make your way alone, with no help from anyone! If you do not look for such a fate, you would do well to heed me.”

  “This is not the way I would have chosen to take a husband,” she said wistfully.

  “Nor I a wife,” he replied. “We will simply have to make the best of the situation.”

  “I can never love you.”

  Long Quiet’s face sobered. “You will bear my children. We will grow old together. Perhaps over the years your heart will find a place for me.”

  Bay was surprised at the earnestness in his voice and the somber expression on his face. She hadn’t really thought about her relationship with Long Quiet in terms of years. Or children. She hadn’t allowed herself to think at all. “You want children?”

  “Of course. Do you not desire more children?”

  Bay searched Long Quiet’s face, wondering if her answer would make any difference to him. She decided to be honest, in case it did. “I don’t wish to bear sons who will be murderers and thieves. I don’t wish to bear sons who will torture and rape and enjoy it.”

  “I am Comanche. My sons will be Comanche.”

  Bay could feel his body trembling with fury. She swallowed her fear and said, “You asked how I felt. I’ve told you.”

  “White men also murder and steal. White men also torture and rape. They are not blameless in the conflicts that cause such hate between our two peoples.”

  “It’s not like this everywhere,” she argued. “In the East, there is no strife.”

  “There is no strife because the white man has pushed the Indian off his lands, with no regard to who was there first,” Long Quiet snarled. “The white man treats all Indians as animals, not as human beings!”

  “I can’t change what’s happened in the past,” she said, “but I can do my best not to continue the enmity between our two peoples. I want to teach my children not to hate.”

  “To trust the White-eyes is to ask for death,” Long Quiet said. “Their history is one of deceit, of lies and more lies. You would teach a son to listen to promises that will not be kept?”