He didn’t really blame her. They were too different. They wanted different things. He’d wanted to marry and start a family. She’d been ardent about her education and medicine. It was better she’d been strong enough to end it than to allow them to make a mistake and enter an ill-fated marriage. “And once you’d graduated, you started looking for a place to locate?”
“I shared a practice with a colleague for a time, but we struggled. Most city people who appreciated advanced medicine already had established doctors. I’d followed the articles and ads about Western locations for some time. The more I looked into the new towns, the more I saw the possibility of pioneer communities being open to new and unconventional practices. Once I had the idea, I couldn’t let go of it. I saw several advertisements encouraging brides and business owners to Cowboy Creek. I wrote the town council, and the town clerk sent me a map and a list of available properties.”
“How did you select your location?”
“Because of my need for water, it wasn’t difficult. I wanted access to the well between the bath house on Second and the laundry on First. Also it’s only three businesses in from the main thoroughfare.”
“Maybe I could include more of your personal story in the next article.”
“I forgot for a moment I was speaking to the journalist. I’ll think about it.”
“Being a journalist is a big part of who I am. Like being a doctor is an important part of who you are. A person’s passions are part of them.”
“Like being a writer also makes you eloquent.”
“Am I?” He glanced over to find her looking up at him. For the first time he felt self-conscious in her presence.
“You have the ability to reach people. You’re able to inspire sympathy or understanding of anything you’re focusing on.”
That was quite a compliment. “You said you’d read my book.”
“And several articles.”
His book was a personal account, and it perhaps revealed more about him than he was comfortable with her learning. He didn’t know why her opinion was different than anyone else’s. People across the nation had read his book, and he wasn’t concerned about their reactions.
Sam couldn’t afford to expend any energy in the direction his thoughts kept leading. Enough was enough.
* * *
They rode in silence for a while. James rode back to let them know they would be arriving at the Cheyenne camp before long. Anticipation quivered in Marlys’s stomach. She’d been looking forward to this for so long. Meeting the indigenous people was part of her reason for leaving the East.
“James will test the temperature with these people before we approach,” Sam warned. “Strangers can be a threat to them, and we don’t know their situation today. They may welcome us, they may not.”
“Understood.”
They drew near the village, where smoke trailed out the tops of tipis arranged in an encampment. Two skinny dogs ran forward, one barking, the other sniffing the horses. Half a dozen braves stood facing them, as though they’d been alerted to the visitors. They wore deerskin leggings, moccasins and coats and hats made of fur.
James signaled for Sam to halt the wagon and rode forward. “Haáahe.”
“Nėhetáa’e. Nétsėhésenėstsehe?” the tallest of the Indians called out.
“He asks if I talk Cheyenne.” James nodded. “Héehe’e.”
“Tósa’e néhéstahe.”
“He asks where we’re from.” James spoke several more words, gesturing to Sam and Marlys. She heard their names, and James mentioned Cowboy Creek.
The Indian seemed to ask more questions and pointed at her.
James turned. “He wants you to climb down so he can look at you.”
“I’ll help you.” Sam climbed down and came around the rear of the wagon to assist her to the ground.
With one of the dogs sniffing at the hem of her riding skirt, Marlys took several steps toward the Indian. Sam remained right beside her.
“Nétsêhésenêstsehe,” he said to her.
“Red Bird asks if you speak Cheyenne,” James said.
She shook her head.
“Má’heóná’e,” James told them. “That’s the word for medicine woman,” he explained.
“Tell him I have medicine. Soap and blankets. Are there any children?”
James spoke with Red Bird and then turned to her. “There are about twenty children. A few are sick. Their medicine woman is old and feeble, and her helper died.”
“I can help them.”
James relayed her message, and Red Bird pointed to the wagon.
“He asks to see,” James said.
Marlys gestured for Red Bird to follow and led him to the back of the wagon, where she climbed up onto the bed to open crates and show him the contents.
Red Bird looked down at her. His eyes were so obsidian they shone, his dark skin lined from the sun, though he didn’t appear old. He had a broad nose and a long scar from his lower lip across his chin, but in his uniqueness she found him strikingly beautiful.
“Ho’eohe,” he said, and gestured for her to join him. Sam was right there to help her down, and she followed Red Bird toward the encampment. Red Bird spoke to James on the way past.
“Leave the wagon, but bring the supplies,” James said to Sam.
The other Indian men picked up crates as well and followed.
Red Bird led Marlys to the largest tipi, called out before entering and held the flap aside for her. She took a deep breath and followed him into what appeared to be their chief’s dwelling. A man whose long, coarse black hair was shot with steel-gray exchanged words with Red Bird. Red Bird led Marlys forward. “Né’seéstse’hena.”
“Take your coats off,” James interpreted.
The three of them did so, and the chief gestured for them to sit near the fire.
Among those in the tipi was a woman who was perhaps the chief’s wife and two women not much older than Marlys, as well as several children, ranging in ages. All the children sat quietly behind their mothers.
“Éhame.” The chief pointed to Sam.
“Chief Woodrow Black Snake asks if you are her husband,” James explained before he answered for Sam.
Red Bird spoke to Chief Black Snake, and apparently the chief asked to see the contents of Marlys’s crates and burlap bags. The men who had accompanied them displayed the contents.
Marlys explained that the blankets were gifts and that the bundles and jars contained medicine.
The chief sent for someone, and after several minutes a brave helped an aged woman into the tipi. She inspected the herbs and opened jars to sniff and taste, then she spoke to the chief. He signed for her to take a seat, and Red Bird helped her lower herself before the fire. Her cloudy black eyes surveyed the newcomers with keen interest.
The chief directed the two young women, and they brought the guests water, roasted nuts and jerky. Marlys instinctively understood they were being treated as honored guests, and the impoverished Cheyenne’s generosity brought swift tears to her eyes.
She asked James to tell her the Cheyenne word for every item in her sight, even the women and children’s names. The women nodded, and the children smiled shyly when she said their names.
“Néá’ee,” she said, thanking them. “Tell them it’s our pleasure to give them blankets.”
James spoke and got up to take the stack of blankets and place it before the oldest woman. She in turn handed one to each of her daughters or daughters-in-law, kept one for herself and instructed Red Bird to give one to the elderly medicine woman. The old woman touched the plain gray wool and nodded at Marlys. “Néá’ee.”
The chief’s wife spoke to one of her daughters, and the younger woman went to a huge woven basket under the slant of the tipi and retu
rned with a folded item she placed before Marlys.
The blanket the old woman had given her was woven with colorful stripes, obviously made from the dyes of berries and plants. The edges had been sewn with short, soft leather fringe. Marlys blinked. She wasn’t an emotional person, and she understood these proud people’s honor depended on an equal trade, but this poignant communion between people of different languages and skin colors touched her heart and soul. Thank You, Lord, for showing me their hearts and giving me this important moment.
“James, please tell her it’s beautiful and will keep me warm for many years.”
James translated.
The woman raised her chin, and her daughters smiled. She then spoke directly to James. “Teke’ váótséva éháomóhtâhéotse.”
They conversed for a moment.
“She says a girl is sick with a fever. She asks if your medicine is powerful enough to heal Little Deer.”
Marlys’s heart leaped. She wanted nothing more than to help these people. She’d touted herself as a great healer—now was her chance to prove her worth. “I know little of their needs or the diseases common to this land and the native tribes,” she said aloud in an uncommon moment of self-doubt.
“Most likely they are immune or have cures for the sicknesses common to them, but the ones that baffle them are those they’ve contracted from the whites.” Sam gave her an encouraging nod.
She stood. “Take me to her.”
After a brief interaction, one of the braves who had accompanied them to the chief helped the old woman stand and gestured for Marlys to join them. Sam got her coat, and he and James stood. “Bring those two crates and my bag,” she said, and they left the chief’s tipi.
The brave spoke to James, and James told them his name was Gray Cloud. They referred to the medicine woman as Hausisse.
“What does it mean?” Marlys asked.
James spoke to the woman. “She said to some it’s She Knows, to others it’s Old Woman.”
Marlys followed them, trudging through trampled-down snow to another lodge, this one painted with animals and figures of women and children. “I like She Knows.”
Inside, there were several children, three lying under fur robes near the fire in the center.
“Teke’ váótséva éháomóhtâhéotse,” She Knows said.
“This is Little Deer,” James interpreted. “She has been sick for many days. The fever doesn’t leave.”
“What have you given her?” Marlys asked.
After a discussion James replied with the remedies the old medicine woman had given the child. Marlys instructed Sam to open the crates. He did as she asked and then took a seat away from the patients.
Marlys asked for water and used it to wash her hands. The child’s mother gave her a concerned look. “I want to help Little Deer,” Marlys said.
James interpreted their conversation.
“I am Blue Water. My child is not strong. She does not eat.”
“May I uncover her and look at her?”
Blue Water nodded and pulled the fur robe away.
The child’s tongue was cracked. She was painfully thin, her skin hot and dry. Marlys examined her for rashes or cuts, even checked the bottom of her feet, which were peeling.
“Are her feet sick?”
“No. The fever causes her skin to peel. We need to cool her down. Sam, bring me water that isn’t too warm, please.” She got cloths from her a crate. “Let’s move her away from the fire.”
With a minimum of effort she relayed her desire to find a vessel large enough to hold the girl. Gray Cloud brought an enormous but surprisingly lightweight bowl-shaped tub carved from a wood she’d never seen before.
Marlys and Little Deer’s mother made a secluded spot away from the heat by draping a blanket from the lodge poles and bathed the child in the tepid mineral water. They carried her to her relocated bed, and Blue Water attempted to cover her. Marlys stopped her with a gentle touch on her arm. “Let’s allow her skin and body to cool.”
Blue Water settled back with a nod.
Marlys draped only a light covering over her torso and gave Little Deer spoonfuls of water. Roused by the cool bath, the girl swallowed thirstily.
Marlys dissolved fermented soybean and coriander into water, as well as a combination of honeysuckle and forsythia powders, and spoon-fed it to her. She Knows came and watched, asked to sniff and taste. Marlys explained the curative properties of the mixture. Although she didn’t understand the cause of Little Deer’s fever, she’d learned this restorative Chinese fever remedy as a last resort, and it seemed She Knows had already used her vast knowledge of medicines to try the more common options.
Marlys had the education to remember and apply therapies for symptoms, but she’d never felt as humble or inadequate as she did at that moment. “Lord, You are the Great Physician. Help me understand how to treat this child. Touch her with Your hand of mercy, in Jesus’s name.” She glanced at the dividing blanket and called softly, “Sam.”
“I’m here.”
“Pray.”
Chapter Five
At the unaccustomed qualm in Marlys’s voice, Sam experienced a thread of concern. She now understood the magnitude of coming here and claiming an ability to help these people. If her treatment didn’t help the Cheyenne girl, and she worsened—or even worse, died—the Cheyenne could perceive it as intended harm on Marlys’s part. Right now there were more lives than Little Deer’s at stake.
“I’m praying,” he answered. “I have every confidence in you, and confidence in God to guide you and to heal the girl.”
He prayed. Time passed slowly. He took his journal from his satchel and wrote for an hour or more. James’s and Marlys’s quiet voices blended with the sound of the other children and their mothers and the crackle of the fire, and he may have dozed.
Becoming aware that the log had burned down, he went out and found a pile of cut wood and put another log on the fire. Unaccustomed to a stranger in their tent, the Indian women watched him warily.
There was nothing to do but wait right now, and his body grew tense from inaction. With a dozen eyes on him he went to his horse and unsheathed an ax, walking toward a stand of trees, where he pulled brush and fallen limbs into a pile and chopped a log into pieces. Periodically he left the ax in a limb to check on Marlys and James. Marlys was methodically checking each child and their mother for signs of sickness. She was treating a small boy when he went back to his task.
Eventually, a woman brought a sling and piled all the wood he’d chopped. It was the women’s job to find and cut wood, so she probably found his actions curious. But she did not protest. She carried the sling filled with firewood back to their communal pile several times. On her return, she brought him a steaming wooden bowl and handed it to him.
He nodded, drank the hot broth, and returned the bowl.
She wiped it out with snow and walked away.
Sam glanced at the sun. It was late afternoon. If they stayed much longer, they would be traveling home in the dark. He trudged back to the lodge and entered. The children were seated at the fire eating savory-smelling roasted meat. His belly rumbled. That broth hadn’t been filling.
“Marlys, we need to think about eating and leaving. We can’t travel in the dark.”
“You must be hungry. Get the basket I packed and share it with James.” She came around the side of the draped blanket. “I’m not leaving.”
He swallowed the first words that sprang to his tongue and pursed his lips in frustration. “We can’t stay. I have to get back to August.”
“You go. I’ll stay.”
“I’m not leaving you alone here.”
“I am not leaving tonight.”
James was seated far enough away to give Marlys, her patient and the girl�
��s mother privacy, but close enough to interpret. He got to his feet and stretched his legs. “What if I go back, keep August with Hannah and me overnight and come back in the morning?”
“I’ve learned enough words to communicate well enough,” Marlys agreed.
Sam ran a hand through his hair. Short of throwing her over his shoulder, he wasn’t going to get her to go back until she was ready. He might have figured as much. He glanced at the other children in the lodge, at James and back to Marlys. He raised a hand in defeat. “All right.”
She hurried toward him. “Thank you.”
“You didn’t leave me much choice. Let James know if there’s anything you want him to bring tomorrow. James, I’m going to get the basket of food. You’ll eat with us before you leave.”
Once the basket was opened, the curious children crept from their places and sat close. Sam broke off pieces of rye bread and piled them into a woven bowl. He gave away all the hardtack, and James passed on it, as well. In the Army, he’d eaten enough of the tasteless unleavened biscuits to last him a lifetime. The Cheyenne youngsters got over their shyness to accept the food and join them. Marlys unwrapped smoked fish, and the aroma drew the women forward, too.
The Cheyenne women gave their guests wooden bowls of roasted game and tender cooked roots. Marlys cut a dried apple pie into a dozen slivers, so each child and mother had a tiny piece.
James made them a pot of coffee with a dented pot he carried in his saddlebags, emptied it and packed to leave. “I’ll bring more food in morning.”
Sam walked to the edge of the camp with him.
“Nothing else we could’ve done,” James said.
“She’s immovable when she has her mind made up. I’ll pay you double.”
Cowboy Creek Christmas Page 5
