“Your Grandpa Jack is a legend among the Comanche bands and greatly respected, and Tess Wyman—known as Healer’s Daughter among The People—loves him very much. She is the reason we are here.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will come to know Tess and love her. She feared for Jack’s life when he left on your journey to recover the horse herd. I was at her house with an injured boy the day previous. She asked if warriors from our village might help and suggested we might incidentally turn a good deed to profit.”
“What do you mean?”
“The soldiers have slaughtered most of the Comanche horses. Our lives have been dependent upon the horses, but their destruction was key to starving The People to the reservation. Tess said we could help Jack Wills and run off Comanchero horses to take to the reservation with us. The peace agreement says we can keep whatever horses or other goods we take to the reservation with us. It does not restrict the source of such things.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“The agreement was on paper in English, which, of course, The People ordinarily would have been unable to read. Quanah had me read the document and explain it to him.”
“You sound like a lawyer of sorts.”
“I have hopes that such might happen.”
“How long have you been with the Comanches?”
“Over ten years. I was fourteen years old when my parents were killed by Comanches. We were separated from our wagon train, and I was taken as a captive. My father was a physician. We came from Germany to America and lived in New York for several years before my father’s wanderlust sent us west. We were Jews, and Yiddish and German were spoken by our family before we came to America, but in New York I learned about my affinity for languages, and I had English books to read, of course, so that helped. I suppose the language skills saved me from a bordello in Mexico or worse. I even acted as an interpreter when the despicable Comancheros came to trade.”
“So you speak four languages?”
“Well, I learned to speak a rudimentary Spanish when Mexican captives were taken in by the band, but I cannot read and write the language yet.”
Sierra said, “I wish we had the time. I would love to teach you. My mother was Mexican, and I attended school in San Antonio where fluency in both Spanish and English was a graduation requirement. I am not looking to learn more languages, though. I sometimes slip back and forth between two. I don’t know how I would balance five.”
“And your parents are both gone, too?”
“Yes,” Sierra said, “my mother took sick and died some years ago. My father was killed during a Comanche raid over a year ago.”
“I’m sorry. You would not feel kindly toward The People, then.”
“Wary, I suppose. But they killed both your parents, and yet you seem to think of yourself as Comanche. It is all complicated. Usually, I don’t know what to feel.”
“I understand. I hope we can talk about it, and that my choices won’t get in the way of friendship.”
“Oh, no. It is fine between us.”
“Sierra,” Rudy yelled, “have you checked the biscuits? They burn up, I’ll see you get the credit.”
“I had forgotten about the biscuits,” Sierra said. “Can we talk later?”
“I would love to,” She Who Speaks said. “After the meeting. And call me Jael, if that would be easier. That was my birth name. Jael Chernik.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
After supper, Jack assembled Growling Bear, She Who Speaks, and a warrior called Throws Lance in front of one of the Studebakers with Tige, Jordy, and Sierra. Rudy had been invited but declined, admitting he probably would not hear a damned thing anyhow. Jack suspected his old friend was suffering from the latest assault on his scalp, aggravated by the work of putting together a banquet praised by Comanches and Lucky Fivers alike.
The sun was dropping over the horizon as they sat down on the parched earth in a loose circle. Jack spoke first. “She Who Speaks, I guess you will need to translate for us. I understand that my friend, Tess, told you about what we are up to here, but just so I am clear, I will explain. We plan to recover Sierra’s horse herd consisting of more than fifty animals. There is a brand on the right side of every horse’s neck or shoulder—with the exception of some of the foals at side. Sierra, while She Who Speaks explains to Growling Bear and Throws Lance, would you draw the brand in the dirt?”
Sierra got on her knees, placed the tip of her finger in the dirt and quickly sketched the image. “A turkey track,” she said.
The Comanche warriors nodded their heads, as She Who Speaks told them what had been said.
Jack continued. “All we want is Sierra’s horse herd. If you help us, you may take any other horses in the canyon, including those of the Comancheros. If there is anything else of value, you are welcome to take it. But there may be women or children there. They are not to be harmed in any manner. No scalps are to be taken, and we will kill only those who resist.” He looked directly at She Who Speaks. “Make it clear that there will be no rapes of any women and that women and children are to be left unharmed.”
“I understand, and I agree,” She Who Speaks said.
She translated at some length to the two warriors, whose faces remained stoic and revealed nothing of their thoughts. Growling Bear nodded when she was finished, confirming Jack’s suspicion that the young interpreter had authority to speak for the Kwahadis without anyone’s approval. When she was finished, she turned to Jack. “We have ten warriors. I am proficient with a Winchester. Growling Bear must stay with me. Quanah’s order. He will not leave me even if I instruct him to.”
“But if we split your warriors,
