The Comanche’s Warrior (Preview)

Prologue

Storms had pummeled the Great Plains for six whole days, displacing many settlers and travelers. This was something the Comanche tribe in the village of Penatekas, Texas in 1868 knew well. They had outlasted the terrible weather many times in the last hundred years and it was no more difficult now that it had been then.

Mokwooru, a hunter from that village, had taken it upon himself to venture to the nearest town that would let him purchase supplies. He’d had to travel thirty miles before he found a town that appeared to have been missed by the raging storms. There were closer places, but he had been sent away with very little or nothing at all.

It wasn’t that those towns and villages were stingy or greedy, he knew. They had wanted to help the Penatekas village as much as they could. But the storms had beaten down their crops, destroyed buildings, and swept away small cottages and shacks that had provided shelter for individuals and families.

Mokwooru was returning now. He’d been gone nearly a week, as he’d had to stop to rest and to shelter himself from the weather when it got too much for him or his horse. Locals had offered him their barns so he would have a roof over his head. A few people had taken him into their homes and fed him. These kind people knew the storm was worse for the Native Americans, whose survival depended on the earth and what they could reap from it.

The river Mokwooru followed had swelled up to peak at the very top of its banks. Any more rain and the water would breach the walls of the riverbed and flood the nearby land. He eyed it with apprehension before turning his eyes up to the blue sky above.

He slapped the reins, urging his horse on faster, looking over his shoulder at the small wagon he pulled behind him. It was filled with various supplies, medicines, food, and clothing—he’d taken whatever he was given. If the tribe couldn’t use something, they would sell it or trade it for something useful.

Whenever the storms subsided.

Mokwooru sighed, glancing up again. It did seem like the storms had taken their leave but he wasn’t sure whether he should trust that. He’d had enough of it, that was for sure.

He looked at the riverbank as he rode by. He could see all the way to the other side, where more plains stretched out with a few hills here and there, but no mountains in the visible distance. The land was dotted with trees, wildflowers that seemed to pop out of nowhere, and bushes of all sizes. Despite all the foliage, there was very little grass. The ground was dirt, soft in some places, hard in others.

Mokwooru narrowed his eyes, focusing on what looked like a floating log in the river. But it was a light-colored log and not like any he’d seen before. His mind shuffled through various tree types, singling out those with white or light-colored bark. None of the trees surrounding the river were that color.

His heart skipped a beat when he realized it was one of two things—a human or an animal. The current was moving fairly swiftly so he was sure he wouldn’t be able to go down into the water to retrieve the body, if that was what it was.

Mokwooru stopped his wagon and stared. Could he really be seeing what he thought he was seeing? Was the pale thing floating in the river… moving? If it was an animal, he couldn’t place what it could be.

He climbed down from the wagon and moved closer to the edge of the riverbank. He’d pulled the wagon up far enough ahead of the floating object that it would have to flow past him. He hoped the current wasn’t too strong, sweeping the object by too quickly.

He leaned forward, stretching his neck and focusing.

A child turned its head and looked at him.

Mokwooru’s heart nearly stopped. He instinctively jumped into the water, though he had no idea how deep the river was at that point. He swiftly swam over to the child, not taking his eyes away from him.

“Child,” he said in his native tongue, “what are you doing floating out here in the middle of the river? Where have you come from? Where is your family?”

The child stared at Mokwooru without speaking. He was a white boy, likely from a town or village somewhere nearby.

Mokwooru gathered the child in his arms and swam back to shore, thankful this part of the river had a slower current and wasn’t as deep.

He pulled out of the water, lifting the boy into his arms and carrying him back to his wagon. Since he was sitting on his horse and pulling the wagon behind him, there was nowhere for the boy to sit except in the wagon.

Mokwooru set the boy on his feet and looked him over, checking for injuries, bleeding, bruising. He was wearing a set of short black britches with a white button-up shirt that was missing several buttons.

He let Mokwooru check him over and still had nothing to say.

“You speak English?” He said the words in English as he knew enough to barter and trade with settlers in the area.

The boy’s eyes lit up hearing a language he understood. He nodded.

“You are a child,” Mokwooru said, again in his native tongue. “What is your age?”

The boy had nothing to say to that. Mokwooru sighed, resting a tanned hand on the little boy’s shoulder.

“We will go back to my village. My sister will take care of you. She has two little girls of her own, smaller than you. I know she will care for you as if you were her own. Come with me, child.”

He scooped the boy up and set him down in the wagon on top of a blanket. The child laid back, curling himself up and closing his eyes. Mokwooru could tell by his breathing that he was soon fast asleep.

Chapter One

Takini and Isatai crouched behind the bushes. Takini was feeling especially giddy. He had come on this buffalo hunt with his best friend, and they’d just come across a herd neither they nor anyone else in their village had known about.

“You don’t think they’ve been claimed by another tribe, do you?” Isa asked, his dark eyes darting from left to right.

“I don’t know,” Takini replied. “The land on the reservation is vast. I’m not sure of the borders.” He looked at his friend. “Are you?”

Isa’s grimace gave Takini his answer.

Takini looked back at the buffalo. He was glad his skin had tanned over the summer. He would never be as dark as his Comanche friend, but he did darken during the hot months. He never hesitated to be out in the sun. He loved the hunt, he loved helping his Native family, the whole community that had taken him in when he was a child.

Takini had remembered a few things from his childhood. Things he had been told he’d said when he was first rescued floating in the water back some twenty years ago. He’d said he was five, so now he was twenty-five years old. He knew that. He just didn’t know when his birthday was. He’d only given his new Native family his age and his name, which was “John.” He didn’t know his surname.

“Come, let’s get one of them. It’ll take days to drag it home and I want to get a start on it now.”

Takini looked at Isa with one eyebrow raised. “There’s no hurry, is there? We have plenty of time and that’s a large herd. They aren’t going to disappear overnight. You exaggerate, anyway. We aren’t far from home. We just haven’t come hunting in this direction until now. That will teach Mokwooru for always thinking he knows best.”

Isa laughed, nodding. “He always thinks he knows best. And you know why?”

Takini felt a sweeping sense of admiration for his “uncle” Mokwooru, the man who had saved him and brought him back to the Comanche village. “Ah yes, and he will tell you if you pose the question to him.”

The two young men grinned wide and both spoke at the same time:

“Because he is always right.”

They both let out peals of laughter before quickly suppressing their joviality. They didn’t want to give away their position. It wasn’t the buffalo they were afraid of spooking—it was any other man or animal that could consider them prey.

The village of Penatekas was mostly peaceful. The warriors trained every day, but there was rarely any fighting. The Comanche people in the village enjoyed trading and bartering without violence and without thieving.

When the government had declared the land a reservation and forced other tribes onto it, Takini’s village was already there and they hadn’t needed to pick up their things and move. But it did mean they had to deal with other Natives and villages that were less peaceful.

Takini loved the people he’d come to think of as his family. He felt a little guilty for not mourning the loss of his white family, but how could he feel anything when he couldn’t remember them? He couldn’t even remember how he ended up in the river, floating away from everyone who cared about him.

Sometimes, he would make up stories about himself and his family to entertain his friends. He’d come up with some wild tales over the years. At the tender age of ten, he’d told his friends and anyone who would listen that “perhaps” he had came from a royal family and should be a prince or a king. Or “perhaps” his family were travelers, drifters, roamers of the earth, nomads.

If that was the case, he’d said at the time, he wouldn’t mind because the Comanche people were also nomadic. Now, though, they liked to stay on the reservation whenever they could. Still, traveling to town for trading purposes had become a regular thing for certain members of every village.

Takini’s roots allowed him acceptance into many of the villages that didn’t want to deal with Native Americans. He got a pass, likely because he and Mokwooru had practiced the English language throughout his life. He doubted he’d remember how to speak it now if his uncle hadn’t made sure he kept some things of his youth.

“We will go back to the village and get Mokwooru and anyone else who wants to come back with us,” Isa said. “And you must lead the pack when we return because you’re the one who convinced me to walk in this direction. I wouldn’t have chosen to go up that hill if you hadn’t harassed me into it.”

Takini snorted, narrowing his blue eyes flanked by dark blond eyelashes at his best friend.

“It didn’t take much twisting of the arm, Isa. And you know it. We were both curious what could be this way. I’m surprised this herd hasn’t been found before.”

Isa looked at the buffalo in the distance, scanning the animals and then the plains around them. He shook his head.

“I don’t know about this. What if they are claimed by others? Chief Parasumum would not be happy with us if we started a war with another tribe.”

Takini shook his head right back.

“This is free land. No one owns it. Not even the white man who claims it is his. It’s free land. We all get to live on it and benefit from it.”

“You are very profound sometimes, you know.” Isa cracked a sarcastic grin.

Takini swiveled his eyes back to the buffalo and replied simply, “I know.”

He knew his friend would understand he was teasing him back.

“Well, what do you want to do, then?” Isa asked, his voice anxious. “We should do something. I feel an itching in my bones.” He looked around as if he expected an attack was imminent.

Takini frowned, wondering what his friend was so worried about.

A hand settled on his shoulder, and it wasn’t Isa’s. He nearly came out of his skin whipping around to see who it was.

Na’ura, one of the twin girls who had become his sisters when he was rescued, stood there with a terribly worried look on her face.

“Takini!” she said urgently. “You must come home. Mother is very ill. She needs you.”

Takini’s heart squeezed in his chest. He dearly loved his mother, the woman who had cared for him all his life, telling him he was no different than his sisters and Comanche friends except that he had paler skin. Otherwise, they would all bleed red blood, all had beating hearts and were human beings. She treated people as people, no matter their outer appearance or where they’d been born and raised.

Takini was on his feet quickly. He looked down at Isa, who slowly rose, staring at Na’ura with wide eyes.

“I knew something was wrong,” he said. He tapped two knuckles on Takini’s chest. “Did I not tell you something was wrong?”

“Well, my mother’s illness will not start a war,” Takini replied, “except in my heart. Our answer has been given to us. We go back to the village and I will see to my mother while you tell Mokwooru and the others about the buffalo.”

“Yes,” Isa agreed as the three of them hurried back down the hill toward the village.Chapter Two

The tent was dark and cool inside. Takini stepped inside, pushing back the thick cloth canvas that served as a door. He stood where he was for a moment until his eyes adjusted to the dim light. The flame was low in the lantern next to his mother’s bed, but Takini could still see the beads of sweat on her forehead.

He took a few quick steps to the cot she was laying on and knelt beside it.

“Mother,” he murmured in their native tongue. “Mother, can you hear me?”

Her labored breathing caught for a moment and her head turned slightly, though her eyes remained closed.

“Mother,” he repeated, picking up a soft cloth from nearby and wiping her forehead gently. He brushed a corner of the cloth over her damp cheeks and under her eyes. “I will stay with you for a time. But I am going to get the medicine man. Tseena needs to know what’s happening. He can help you.”

His mother seemed to come alive for a moment, turning her head from side to side on the pillow. She seemed so unsettled that Takini had mentioned the medicine man. Tseena was a good man. He was well-versed in medicinal remedies and was trusted throughout the village. He needed to be brought to Topsanna’s bedside.

Despite the fact that her illness might be contagious, Takini took her hand and held it in between both of his, pulling it to his lips once to kiss it.

“I’ll stay for a time, Mother. But if I do, you will need to come out of this and talk back to me. No one likes a one-sided conversation.”

It sounded like there was something in her chest. He could hear it rattling. She was congested and had a high fever. He could see that just by looking at her. But the rattling meant her illness was deep on the inside. That was somewhere he couldn’t go. Tseena likely couldn’t either, but what else could he do?

He was only teasing his mother to see if she would respond.

“Open your eyes, Mama. Open your eyes and look at me.” He spoke gently and quietly, leaning in close. “Mama. It’s me, Takini. Your only son. I need you to come out of this and talk to me.”

She didn’t comply, but her eyeballs were moving behind her closed lids. He wondered what she was seeing.

“She’s not awake, Takini.”

He turned to see it was Na’ura.

“She can’t hear you.”

Takini took in his mother’s state once more. “I think she can. I think she’s just under the surface of sleep—not quite asleep but not exactly able to respond. We must seek out Tseena.”

“I don’t think he can help her,” Na’ura replied anxiously.

This was surprising for Takini to hear. He trusted Tseena and had never known anyone in the village to question the medicine man’s ability to heal. He had homemade concoctions for almost everything. For every ailment, he said, there was an herbal remedy.

So far, he had only been proven correct.

“What makes you doubt Tseena?” he asked, allowing his voice to express his shock. “He has never failed in the past.”

Na’ura raised her dark eyebrows. “Tseena does not bring people back to life. He only treats ailments he can treat. He has failed in the past. You just haven’t seen it happen.”

Takini pondered that for a moment, studying his sister’s face. He could see the worry written there in her smooth dark skin.

“I am two years older than you,” he said. “What have you seen that I have not?”

Na’ura looked like she was about to respond when their mother moaned loudly and turned her head back and forth on the pillow again.

Takini and his sister immediately tended to her, both of them kneeling next to the bed, resting their hands on their mother and mumbling comforting words until she was peaceful again.

“Come,” Takini whispered, getting to his feet. “Let’s take this conversation outside.”

He went ahead of her, leading her to a large fire ten feet away that was being used by various villagers to cook food and keep warm in the autumn chill.

He stared into the flickering flames, feeling uneasy in his gut. “Where is our sister?” he asked. “Does she know how Mother is failing?”

“She has taken to Anaksu’s tent as she is unable to handle seeing Mama that way. It’s hard for me, too, but I feel it’s more important to be by her side than hiding away from her.”

Takini nodded. “She knows we will take care of it and that is fine. Let’s go to Tseena and have him come back with some remedies or to at least make a diagnosis.”

“Shall I stay with her or go with you?” Na’ura asked.

“Come with me. Mother isn’t awake and doesn’t need you right now.”

“What if she wakes up?”

Takini put one hand on her shoulder. “We won’t be long. Let’s go see what he’s doing. He may not even be able to come see her. That would satisfy you, wouldn’t it?”

Na’ura pulled her dark eyebrows together. “You’re being a tease.”

Takini winked at her. “Yes, I’m sorry. I was teasing you. It was cruel.”

She gave him a weak smile. “It’s all right. I know you’re just trying to make me laugh.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t,” he responded, squeezing her shoulder.

Neither spoke as they walked through the village, heading for the tent at the end of the row to their left. Smoke curled out the tip of the teepee.

Takini hoped the medicine man would be alone, but there always seemed to be someone who had a problem only Tseena could take care of. Sometimes it wasn’t their physical body that needed healing. Tseena could provide solutions to anyone or almost any problem having to do with health and mental wellness.

He had a lot of respect for Tseena, as much as he did for all the elders in the village, including the chief and Mokwooru. He wondered if Na’ura or Autha had told their uncle his sister appeared to be nearing death’s door.

His mother was rarely sick. When she was, it was always a near-death experience. But she had always pulled through.

He prayed she would pull through this time, too.

Chapter Three

It turned out Tseena was alone. Before he could speak, his sister had already approached the medicine man.

“Tseena, we are in need of your help and guidance. Mama has become ill. She is close to death. Please come see if you can do anything for her.”

Tseena pulled his furry brown and gray eyebrows together. “Topsanna is ill?” He lifted up from his cross-legged position and closed an iron lid over the steadily burning fire in his oven.

Takini stepped back as his sister and the medicine man passed him. He closed the tent flap behind him and followed them through the village back to their mother’s home.

Takini stayed outside, waiting, while the medicine man went in to examine her. He didn’t know what rituals the man would perform, but it didn’t matter. He wanted Tseena to do whatever was necessary to keep his mother alive.

As he stood there, he thought back to his earliest memories. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember any life other than the one he had right then.

Sometimes, he was sure he had dreamed of his previous life, with a white family in some town where there was a barber and a bank and a church. None of those were things he had with his Comanche family. Not that he needed them. He just couldn’t recall them. Nor the faces of his parents. Or if he had any brothers and sisters.

As far as he was concerned, Autha and Na’ura were his sisters. They had cared for him and respected him and rarely fought with him or with each other in their growing years. Both of his sisters were kind, gentle, nurturing women.

He stuck his head into his mother’s tent to see what was going on. Tseena was gently rubbing something on her forehead, whispering words Takini couldn’t hear. He watched the ritual for a moment, taking in his mother’s face. She looked a bit more peaceful. Not much, though. He could hear her breathing, and it was still labored.

Sighing, Takini pulled out of the tent and turned to the big fire where he’d been speaking to his sister earlier. She was there again, talking urgently to Autha, who had clearly been crying her eyes out.

He could tell Na’ura was trying to make Autha feel better, but he understood why Autha was having such a hard time.

Recalling a conversation he’d had with his mother, Takini let his mind wander back to a time when he was just coming into adulthood—sixteen years old and ready to take the big hunts with Mokwooru and the other hunters in the tribe. Before his first big hunt, Topsanna had taken him aside and spoken to him about his responsibilities as a man and how they affected the women in his family.

Topsanna had lost her husband on a different hunt while Takini was still with his birth family. He had never known the man. The accident that took his life had unfortunately occurred just a few months after he’d witnessed the birth of his twin daughters. There had been a grand celebration with many men and women dancing around the fire that night, singing praises for the gift of new life.

Three months later, his mother had told him, they’d laid the body of her husband on top of a pile of wood and burned it, setting his spirit free to roam.

When Mokwooru had brought Takini back to the village that day so long ago, he’d managed to learn that his name was John. But Topsanna hadn’t liked that name. She’d told him when he was old enough to understand that she had rejected the name John as it represented his old life. Now that he was a member of the Comanche family, he would be given a new name—Takini, which meant “survivor” or “one who has been brought back to life” because she couldn’t comprehend how he came to be floating down the river that day on his back, not making a noise or alerting anyone to his predicament.

Sometimes, Takini liked to joke that maybe he was just out for a swim and decided to float the river a ways. He had apologized for this theory since the first day he said it, afraid Mokwooru would feel guilty for taking him or Topsanna would feel guilty for keeping him.

But, as he explained to them whenever they seemed even a little upset because of what they’d done, there was no way they could have found his home for him. First of all, the sight of any Native traveling with a white child would have immediately raised eyebrows. They would have suspected foul play, and anyone who had anything to do with bringing him to town would probably have been shot.

So it wasn’t safe for them to try to find his real home. Nor was it logical to navigate where the point of origin was for when Takini went into the water. There was just too much land to cover and some of it was terribly dangerous for the peaceful hunters of the Comanche tribe he lived with.

Tseena came bursting through the tent, swinging his arms and the long cloak around him in the breeze. Takini stared at him curiously.

“Well?” he asked. Na’ura and Autha came to stand by his side, looking anxious.

“She is very ill. However, I have seen her worse.”

His sisters seemed reassured by that but it was much too vague for Takini. It didn’t sound like a real answer.

“She looks bad now,” he stated, “and she’s going to get worse if she doesn’t get better. What will you tell us then?”

He hated that he was annoyed and irritated. He didn’t mean to be. He was just frustrated because he’d been the one to suggest Tseena and now even he was doubting the medicine man’s abilities. The more he thought about it, the more Takini felt there was only one solution to his mother’s dilemma.

He needed to find a doctor from one of the settlers’ towns. He would track down an English doctor and get his mother the help she needed.Chapter Four

Takini didn’t bring up the subject of getting a white doctor for his mother until later that night when he was speaking with Autha, Na’ura, and Mokwooru. They were all seated around a smaller fire, one that was only for warmth. Now that the sun was going down earlier in the day, it got colder at night much faster.

They sat around the fire, talking and eating their dinner. Worry for his mother had not left Takini’s mind. He’d spent the entire afternoon pondering whether he should go to town and fetch a doctor.

He knew his plan would bring objections from his Native family. They wouldn’t want to put their trust in a white man to help Topsanna.

But she needed and deserved all the help she could get. She had been wonderful to Takini since he’d been taken in by the tribe. She’d treated him like a valued member of the community and as her son, as if he was born from her own body.

Takini would forever be grateful for that. He had to make sure he was doing everything he could for her.

While the fire crackled in front of him and his family chatted in low tones, Takini made a quick decision. He would stay with his mother through the night. If he didn’t think she was getting any better and was, in fact, getting worse, he would go to the town without their permission.

He considered what supplies he would need, if any. It was always good to be on alert and take extra provisions in case he encountered any delays. He would, of course, have his trusty bow and arrow, with which he was a wonderful marksman, if he didn’t mind boasting a bit.

He did have occasion over the last few years to wonder what it would be like to shoot a gun. Some Native Americans had them, but he didn’t. He wondered if his skills would carry over.

His mind went back to his mother when Na’ura leaned over and waved a hand in front of his eyes, blocking the firelight from him. He looked at her questioningly.

“Where are you, Takini?” she asked. “You’re a million miles away. Are you concerned about Mama?”

“You know I am,” he replied, deciding it was time to broach the subject of seeking a doctor from the nearby town of Bandera.

He’d done some trading there but had never gone to the clinic or seen the doctor. He hadn’t really visited anywhere other than the lumber yard to sell logs and the general store to pick up various supplies.

“But that’s not why I am quiet,” he continued, moving his gaze to take in his other sister and Mokwooru. “I’m thinking about something that is very serious. And I don’t think any of you will like it.”

Mokwooru was the first to react. He jerked forward, his face hardening. “What is it you’re thinking about? Tell us.”

Takini’s chest tightened with nerves. He didn’t need to be afraid of Mokwooru. The big warrior would never hurt him and he knew it. Still, there was something intimidating about the man who had saved his life. He’d seemed like an enormous giant to Takini when he was a child. Even now, twenty years later, he still felt dwarfed by the hunter.

“I want to travel to Bandera to fetch the doctor. They have medicines we don’t. Perhaps there is an illness traveling through people right now and Mother has somehow been exposed. They will know what to do. I’m not sure Tseena does.”

Mokwooru, as Takini expected, shook his head. “Topsanna becomes ill sometimes. We all do. That doesn’t mean this time is worse than any other. Tseena knows what he’s doing.”