Come Sundown Read online

  Simplistic? Yes. I admit that I was still wasting my time with worry as I rode south with Kills Something. I’m as human as you. But at least I was looking my reason for worry right in its ugly face and saying to it, figuratively if not out loud, “I am coming to do battle with you.”

  THE NOKONIS RANGED south of the Quahadis, about five days’ ride for Comanche horsemen, who could easily cover thirty miles in a day. We expected to find them along the Wichita River. As we rode, a thought began to creep into my mind. I actually wanted to get rid of Hidden Water. I realized that I was not in love with Hidden Water and never would be. I just wanted out of my Comanche marriage. The question was how to make that happen while still retaining my prestige as an Indian trader and an adopted Quahadi Comanche. I reasoned that my best bet would be to ride into that Nokoni camp all full of indignation, and demand payment for my stolen bride. If my bravado worked, I would ride away with my spoils and go on about my business as a wilderness Indian trader.

  The variable that concerned me was the unknown nature of Hidden Water’s new husband. How fierce of a warrior was he? Hopefully, he would have enough sand in his craw to insist on keeping his new prize so that I wouldn’t have to take her back. But would he pay me for her with horses and hides, or would he want to fight? If he intended to make a show of killing me to win Hidden Water and bolster his own reputation, then I was in trouble. I would either get wounded or killed in the duel, or I would kill or wound Hidden Water’s new husband, perhaps angering the Nokonis while winning back a woman I didn’t even want. This was going to be tricky.

  Kills Something and I rode southward until we happened upon a pair of Nokoni Comanche travelers riding north to our camp to trade for whiskey. They had four extra horses with them, for which I traded four cups of whiskey, which was about all I had left. I told them the whiskey was in the lodge with the fallen wind flap back at the Quahadi camp. They insisted that I take possession of my horses then and there, lest any of them go lame, run off, get stolen, or die, thus depriving them of a cup. They told us where to find the camp we sought, and ensured us that the beautiful Hidden Water was there.

  We followed their directions and found Hidden Water’s new village camped at the confluence of the North Wichita and the South Wichita. Over a hundred lodges stood among the river bottom timber, and meat was hung everywhere on curing racks. Hides of deer and buffalo were plentiful, and the Nokonis seemed busy and happy. I remember thinking that it was a shame that I couldn’t just leave them alone. However, I knew I had better put on my fighting face and prepare to bluff Hidden Water’s new husband out of a few mounts or something, however ridiculous that seemed—trading a wife for horses.

  We rode into this camp a little after noon, and I began to shout.

  “Aho!” I said. “Listen! I am looking for a woman that ran away from me. She is called Hidden Water. I am Plenty Man, of the Quahadis! Tell the man who stole my wife that he must come here and face me now!”

  We had ridden right into the camp with our herd of spare horses, and couldn’t have caused more of a stir had we thrown a rock into a hornet’s nest. Boys and girls began running everywhere to spread the news of our arrival, while men and women began to gather around us, anxious to witness what would happen between me and Hidden Water’s new husband.

  I continued to talk loud and posture about on my mount for what seemed like a very long time. Finally, I sensed the approach of my rival. The crowd of Nokonis parted and he walked into the circle of people surrounding me and Kills Something, and the horses we had brought with us. He carried a shield and a lance. He was big for a Comanche, and that made him easily bigger than me. I figured he was about my age, but he had seen more battle than me and had the scars and the glare in his eyes to prove it. Rarely had I seen a more athletic Comanche fighting man. One look told me that this warrior feared nothing, least of all me.

  “I am Plenty Man, of the Quahadis,” I said, my voice cracking. “You have taken my wife. Who are you?”

  “I am called Bear Tooth,” he said, without raising his voice. “Who rides with you?”

  “My brother-in-law.” I glanced at Kills Something and saw him glaring. I wished I could have looked as formidable.

  Bear Tooth tossed his head like a horse. “What do you want here?”

  I knew what I was supposed to say. I wanted payment for my stolen bride, or I wanted battle. But I just could not get my mouth to speak it. “I have ridden a long way,” I said, stalling. “I will not leave here until I am satisfied.”

  Bear Tooth tucked his lance under his arm, angling the point toward me with menace. “What do you want?” he repeated.

  “I want … I will tell you what I want …” About this time, I knew my plan to try bluffing Bear Tooth out of some payment for Hidden Water was probably about to get me lanced to death, so I acted on a sudden and desperate whim. “I want to give you these horses!” I announced, gesturing toward the six spare mounts in my remuda.

  “Horses?” he growled.

  “Yes, take these horses, my friend. I want you to have them. You have made me very happy!”

  The people began to murmur around us, and I glanced at Kills Something to see the confused glare he shot toward me.

  “You came to fight for the woman, tsuh?”

  “Fight?” I threw my head back in maniacal laughter. “Who would fight for a woman that lazy? I came to thank you. That woman is so worthless that she does not know how to drive a stake pin by herself. Her hand does not fit the strap of a water bag. She cannot start a fire without stealing an ember from her neighbors!”

  An old woman began to laugh. “It is true!” she said. “That is the laziest girl I ever saw. She will not carry more than four sticks of wood in her arms.”

  Voices rose around us as the people chuckled, or questioned one another in confusion.

  This only seemed to annoy Bear Tooth. “Enough talk,” he said. “You have come a long way. You must want a fight.”

  “I will fight the man who tries to make me take that lazy woman back.”

  “She is not lazy when I tell her what to do!” he answered, jabbing his lance toward me.

  “That is the same thing I thought at first, but give her time. She will get plenty lazy.”

  “She already is!” the old woman yelled. “Those Quahadi girls are the laziest I have ever seen.”

  “Don’t judge our Quahadi women by Hidden Water’s laziness,” I said. “We have others who make good wives.”

  “Wait!” Bear Tooth said, shaking his shield. “Did you come to fight for the woman, or to demand a price for her?”

  I sighed and rolled my eyes at the aggravation of having to explain it all again. “I came to give you a gift of thanks for taking her away. I have brought you these horses.”

  Now Bear Tooth’s own people began to laugh at him. Some of his fellow warriors jeered. One said, “Take the horses, brother, your woman needs them to carry her wood.” Another said, “Tell Plenty Man six horses is not enough to make up for your taking such a lazy woman.”

  “I have my own horses!” Bear Tooth said.

  “You shall have more!” I said.

  About this time, I noticed that Chief Peta Nocona had pushed through the crowd of people to listen to the confrontation.

  “It is you who should want to take horses from me,” Bear Tooth said. “Are you not ashamed that your woman has run away with me?”

  “Ashamed?” I laughed straight up at the sky. “I am only ashamed that I did not get rid of her sooner. Please, take the horses, my friend.”

  “No, you will take horses from me. The woman is not lazy, and you will either take six horses, or we will fight!”

  “Six horses?” I said. “No, I could not. I came here to give you horses. But I can see you are a proud warrior and able to get your own horses, so take only four horses from me, my friend, because I respect your pride.”

  “I will not take any horses from you. You will take eight from me, for the woman is a good
woman, and the most beautiful woman in this camp.”

  “A hot meal is a beautiful thing, too,” I said, “but you will not being seeing much of that. She doesn’t know how to cook!”

  The old Nokoni woman howled with laughter, and many of the others joined her.

  “You will take the eight horses, or feel the point of my lance,” Bear Tooth said.

  “I can see you are a warrior with much medicine, so I will keep all but three of my own horses, even though I brought them all to you to show my thanks. But I could not take eight horses for the woman. That would make my heart feel bad.”

  “I do not care how your heart feels. You will take eight horses, or you will fight.”

  “Such a woman does not call for a fight, my friend. You will see soon enough that I speak the truth. So, please take just two horses from me. This does not begin to show my thanks to you.”

  Now Hidden Water herself arrived. I spotted her near the old woman who had spoken so harshly of her. She did not seem the least bit ashamed to show herself in front of me. In fact, she seemed amused by the confrontation, though she hadn’t yet heard Bear Tooth and me arguing over who was going to pay whom. I must admit that her beauty made my breath catch in my throat, but she had caused me a lot of trouble by running off with Bear Tooth, and I felt no desire for her.

  “I will not take horses from you,” Bear Tooth said, flabbergasted at my whole attitude. “I do not need your thanks for anything. You should be demanding horses of me. You should have the courage to challenge me to a fight!”

  “My courage and my medicine are strong,” I said. “Especially since I got rid of that lazy woman. That is why I want to thank you with a gift of horses. Please take at least one!”

  Now Hidden Water caught on to my ploy, and I saw the fury consume her lovely face. “You skunk!” she shouted at me.

  “You see how disrespectful she is!” I laughed. “I am so happy she is no longer my wife.”

  Hidden Water stalked across the circle of people to confront Bear Tooth. “Tell him he must demand payment for me. Many horses! Or he must fight!”

  “Silence, woman,” Bear Tooth said, shoving her aside. “I have already told him.”

  The old crone laughed so hard that her knees buckled, and she patted the ground in appreciation of the whole ridiculous scene.

  “You may refuse the gift I have brought for you,” I said. “That is your choice. But that woman will suck the puha out of you like a calf sucking a cow. So I will keep my horses, but I cannot accept any of yours, because you will need them when your powers start to weaken.”

  “My powers are plenty strong!” Bear Tooth declared.

  “I see that, but you have not been with her very long. You will need all the wealth you can get hold of when things start to go bad.”

  Hidden Water gasped at my gall. “I would kill him for saying such a thing about me!”

  “Woman, shut your mouth!” Bear Tooth growled.

  Hidden Water implored Kills Something now. “Brother,” she said, “tell my husband that I never made Plenty Man’s power go bad.”

  Kills Something would not even look at her. “I am not your brother.”

  Now Chief Peta Nocona stepped forward, into the circle made by his people. “A strong warrior,” he said, “proves his faith in his own puha by giving away all his horses. Plenty Man comes here and offers all these horses to a man who has taken his wife. That is the strangest thing I have ever seen, but I see that Plenty Man’s powers are great because of it. He shows Bear Tooth that he is not injured by having a woman taken away from him—especially one that would run away willingly. If Bear Tooth believes in his own powers, he will give all of his horses to Plenty Man to prove it. Then we will see if this woman truly has the bad power to weaken a warrior’s medicine.”

  “As Peta Nocona says,” Bear Tooth announced, “you will take all of my horses. I have twenty-two. And I will give away everything I own in a big give-away dance tonight. Everything but my sacred weapons.”

  “Everything!” Hidden Water screamed with great indignation. “No, you will not!”

  “Everything! My lodge, my robes, even the mocassins on my feet! Even those on my wife’s feet! You will see that my medicine is good, and we will work to get new things. I will hunt buffalo, and my wife will tan the hides and make a new lodge.”

  “But I have a lodge! Almost the biggest in camp!”

  “No longer! Plenty Man, any boy in camp will show you which horses are mine. You will take them with you when you go away. I have spoken!”

  Before I could respond, Bear Tooth wheeled away and stormed off through the crowd of people, with Hidden Water jabbering at his heels.

  Peta Nocona looked at me and smiled slightly. “There is going to be a dance and a feast tonight. You should stay and enjoy the hospitality of my people.”

  “We will,” I promised.

  The old Nokoni lady was still laughing as the crowd of people began to disperse, for all were now excited about preparing for the give-away dance. Kills Something rode up next to me. “You have strange medicine, brother.”

  “It is stranger to no one than it is to me,” I admitted.

  WE MADE CAMP on the outskirts of the village, and rested a while. Then I strolled among the Nokoni lodges to look for captives I might ransom. The only white person I saw was Peta Nocona’s wife, Nadua, whom I had last seen in the camp at the Crossing on the Canadian. As I saw Nadua preparing buffalo meat for the feast, I approached her casually, and spoke to her.

  “Do you know who I am?” I asked.

  She glanced at me and nodded, then went on about her work. “I have been told that there is something I should not speak to you about.”

  She stopped her work and stood to face me, though she would not look at my face. “I have a child. My son, Quanah.” She pointed to a boy of about five years of age attempting to climb onto a gentle old horse near the lodge. “Do not speak of taking me away. My husband would be angry. I must stay with my child.”

  “That is good. If you choose to stay with the True Humans, that is up to you. But if you wish, I can take a message to your old people, so they will know you are well.”

  “No,” she said. “They must not know anything of me. They will try to come and get me. Please do not tell them where I am.”

  “Do not be afraid,” I said. “I will say nothing unless you want me to.”

  She looked about nervously. “Go away, so I can work.”

  “Tsuh, tsuh. I am going to speak to your son, but I only want to encourage him about riding horses.”

  Nadua nodded as if to give me permission. I think she just wanted to be done with me. It was clear that I made her very nervous.

  I walked toward the horse that Nadua’s son, Quanah, was trying to mount. The old horse had a rawhide thong tied into its mane. The thong dangled just low enough for the boy to grab. He was supposed to be able to climb up that thong and mount the horse, but he was young for this maneuver, and having trouble. He had a quiver full of practice arrows on his back and a little bow over his shoulder, and these impeded him when he tried to climb onto the horse.

  “Do you need help?” I asked.

  He turned, looked up at me, and smiled, but said, “No.”

  Looking around, he spied a log on the ground from a tree that had been blown over in a storm. He led his old nag up next to this, climbed up on the log, grabbed the rawhide thong—higher up this time—and succeeded in clawing his way high enough to throw his leg over the pony’s back. Pulling himself upright, he looked back at me, smiled again, and said, “You see, I do not need your help.”

  “I see that. Show me how you will hunt the buffalo on that horse.”

  Quanah lifted the bow over his head and pulled an arrow from his quiver. He goaded the old horse to a trot as he did this, and without touching the reins of his war bridle made the horse stop and turn using only his feet and legs to signal the mount. Now he notched the arrow onto the string and came trotting
back toward me. The log became his buffalo, and he sent an arrow thumping into its flank. The wood was rotten enough that the blunt arrow stuck. This was impressive enough, but within two seconds, that little Comanche rider had another arrow notched, and as he trotted by the log a second time, he sent another arrow into the log only a finger’s width from the first.

  “Yee-yee-yee-yee-yee!” I yelled. I glanced back at Nadua, and saw that she was smiling at her son’s accomplishment.

  Little Quanah, which meant “the Fragrant One,” held his bow above his head in triumph and urged the old mount into a slow lope. He rode in a circle around his imaginary kill and grinned at me as he passed. Suddenly, the old horse stumbled, and fell to both knees, pitching Quanah forward. He grabbed the mane, breaking his fall, but he hit the ground hard anyway, and one end of his bow jabbed him in the thigh, scratching a red streak across his flesh. Worse still, the old horse stepped on the boy’s shoulder as it struggled to regain its footing. The hoof luckily slid off him before the animal put its full weight on that leg, but it still scraped Quanah’s shoulder badly.

  The white man in me wanted to run and pick the boy up, but I held myself back. This was a Comanche camp, and everything about the Comanche way prepared a True Human—man, woman, or child—to accept pain and go on without complaint. Several older boys who had seen Quanah fall gathered around to laugh at him, but he ignored them. I knew his scrapes and bruises had to hurt, but the little warrior did not even touch them. He just picked up his bow and his spilled arrows and went to catch his horse.

  Angrily, he grabbed the reins of the war bridle, but he did not jerk them, nor did he strike the old mount. Instead, he pulled the pony’s head down to his level and gave it a good long lecture about watching where it was going and keeping its four feet under it, lest he should have his mother cook it for the give-away dance that was going to happen that very evening. That settled, Quanah led his pony back over to the log and remounted.