Chieftain (Historical Romance) by Nan Ryan Page B

An omission for which he should be ashamed of himself. If there was ever an occasion when the Comanche leader should be present, it was on ration day.
    And, furthermore, heshould be there dressed as a Comanche, not a white man!
    Maggie and Katie waded on through the throngs of Indian men. They reached a row of makeshift booths that were manned by officers’ wives. The good-hearted ladies were giving away cakes, cookies and candy to the Indians and soldiers alike. Maggie had made a cake for the event, but had ended up leaving it at the cottage. Her culinary efforts left a great deal to be desired. When she’d shown the lopsided cake to Pistol, he had given her a sad, pitying look. So she’d donated fresh fruit instead.
    Maggie smiled now when she caught sight of the shy Bright Feather, standing before a booth, several feet back, gazing yearningly at a big glass jar filled with peppermint sticks.
    Without a word to Katie, Maggie hurried toward him. Katie saw the child and followed. When Maggie reached Bright Feather and greeted him, he smiled that heart-tugging smile of his.
    She asked, “Would you like a peppermint stick?” His smile grew broader and his big dark eyes flashed. She said, “Practice your English. Ask the nice lady if you may have a peppermint stick.”
    Bright Feather limped forward. He reached the booth. He was so little his face was on the level of the plank board where the candy jar sat. He peered over it at a tall, rawboned woman with graying hair and asked politely, “May I have a peppermint stick, ma’am?”
    MargaretTullison laughed, reached out, ruffled his hair and said, “You sure can, darlin’!” She reached in the jar, took out two sticks and handed both to him. He took them and stood there with a peppermint stick in each hand, so pleased with his good fortune he was speechless.
    “Remember what you say when someone gives you something,” Maggie prompted.
    “Thank you very much,” Bright Feather said to Margaret Tullison.
    “You’re mighty welcome,” she said. Then added, “Tell you what, if you eat those up and want another, you come right back over here.”
    “Bright Feather” came the soft voice of the Kiowa woman he lived with. Morning Sun was the patient, motherly, middle-aged widow who was raising Bright Feather and five other orphans. Those five were with her now. She gently scolded Bright Feather in their native tongue. “You must not wander away from me. You could get lost in the crowd. Now come.”
    He nodded, but proudly held up his peppermint sticks. Margaret Tullison was already lifting the glass top from the big jar, taking out candy for the other five children. Maggie acknowledged Morning Sun and bid Bright Feather goodbye.
    Turning toMargaret Tullison, she said, “We’ll be back to relieve you at three o’clock.”
    “Good enough,” said Margaret.
    “We better start looking in earnest for a place to spread the blanket,” Katie said.
    “Yes, I agree.”
    They had volunteered to help out by manning one of the booths from three o’clock until six. Until that time, they were free and they wanted to find just the right spot. A place where they wouldn’t miss anything and could most enjoy the festivities.
    “What about over there close to the main agency building?” Katie suggested, pointing. “That’s where all the rations will be distributed, so most of the activity should take place around there.”
    Maggie nodded but declined. If they settled in near the agency buildings, they would see only the Indian women and children.
    “Wouldn’t you rather go on out beyond the buildings to the pasture where they’ll race the horses this afternoon?” Maggie asked. “That’s where most everyone goes, and if we’re not there early, we won’t get a front-row spot.”
    “Well, all right,” Katie was agreeable. “We can eat our picnic lunch before they start running their horses and kicking up dirt.”
    “Of course. Let’s go now and…and…Wait, I see