“We will go there soon. There was hope that we would find buffalo here. It was not to be.”
They spoke English, because She Who Speaks was fluent in at least five languages including Spanish and Comanche. She had been taken captive when she was thirteen or fourteen years old when her Jewish parents were killed on their journey across the Texas prairie. German and Yiddish had been her first languages, the young woman, now in her mid-twenties, had told her on another occasion. Tess, of course, was fluent in Comanche but struggled with her Spanish. This young woman seemed to move effortlessly from tongue to tongue. Her language proficiency and ability to adapt had probably saved her from sale to Comancheros and ultimately a trip to a Mexican bordello.
Tess looked at the child, a boy of nine or ten years, she guessed. He seemed well enough.
She Who Speaks said, “Quanah asked that I bring Little Hawk here for your help.”
“What seems to be the problem?”
“He has a growth on his back.”
Tess did not consider herself a surgeon. She was a mere collector, producer, and dispenser of remedies derived from herbs and other plants with medicinal properties. She feared she could offer no more than sympathy. Speaking Comanche, she addressed the boy. “Little Hawk, please dismount, and we will go into my house, and I will look at your back.”
The skinny, dark-eyed boy looked at She Who Speaks, who nodded approval, and he slid from the horse’s back. After hitching the horses, the visitors followed Tess into the house. Her four-room abode included the kitchen, a parlor with a fireplace, and a bedroom, but the largest room was what she called her medicine room off the kitchen. It was a light-filled room with three windows, two long tables, side by side with space in between for the user. Cupboards and counters claimed most usable wall space.
Tess led She Who Speaks and Little Hawk into the medicine room and directed the boy to climb onto one of the sturdy tables. “Would you take off your shirt?” she asked.
Little Hawk complied, pulling a dirty buckskin shirt over his head and placing it on the table. Tess was horrified when she saw the emaciated form beneath the shirt, every rib outlined against flesh stretched so tight it appeared a bone might break through at any moment. She looked at She Who Speaks, and speaking English, said, “He’s starving.”
“The soldiers have killed most of our horses, cut off supply sources. They killed twelve hundred horses at Palo Duro Canyon last fall, you know.”
“I heard.”
“It has been effective military strategy for the Army. Starvation is driving us to the reservation.”
Tess said nothing and gently grasped the boy’s bony shoulders and turned him so she could view his back. A fist-sized ball was located at the middle of his back. She probed it gently with her fingers. Firm, but there were soft spots. “Is it painful?” she asked.
“No,” he replied.
The answer did not tell her much, since a Comanche boy likely would not admit pain. “I am sure it is an abscess. I can open and drain it, but I am certain someone in the village could have treated this. Did you come here for some other reason?”
“I told Quanah I would speak with you. Please, take care of Little Hawk, and I will explain.”
Tess gathered up a tin pan and clean rags and took a sharp skinning knife from one of the drawers. She asked the boy to lie down on his side. “It may hurt at first, but it will be over quickly,” she informed him.
She Who Speaks spoke as Tess searched the abscess for the most desirable target. “We are aware that you are close to Mister Wills. The Kwahadi have promised not to take his cattle, and The People want no trouble with white ranchers. Quanah has asked if you might approach Mister Wills for permission to cut out twenty steers or unbred heifers from his herd. The People must be fed to have strength to travel. We have no money now, but Quanah does have funds he can access after we arrive at Fort Sill. The price of the cattle will be paid to Mister Wills. I will help Quanah with the financial arrangements.”
Tess sliced the soft peak of the abscess and blood and puss erupted like lava from a volcano. Little Hawk did not flinch. Tess squeezed the still half-full pocket, catching what she could of the fluid in her pan. “I will see Jack later today and make the arrangements.” She was confident that Jack would not reject the proposal. “Come back tomorrow and bring warriors to drive the cattle. How far are you from here?”
“About five to seven miles west.”
Tess plucked what she had been looking for from a glob of pus. “A thorn. My guess is it came from a locust tree. I will apply a poultice, but it is best to allow this to drain. I will give you the powders you need to mix the medicine for the next week.”
She Who Speaks said, “I cannot thank you enough.”
“Remember, I am of The People, also. I do what I am able. Now, before you depart, you will both join me at the kitchen table. You will not leave here without a good meal. And I hope you will return with the warriors tomorrow, so we can talk some more. I so rarely see a woman to chat with anymore.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jordy waited on the veranda for Sierra to come out. Their conversation at breakfast had been polite but a bit cool. He could tell she was not pleased by Jack’s absence. Of course, Rudy’s big ears had not encouraged a casual conversation. At least he had had an opportunity to fill the old Ranger in on more of the story about the previously unknown granddaughter and her late father. Not to his surprise, the tale
