reason,” he said. “Sometimes I just do things like that. Then, later on, he beat us good, and he even beat Dull Knife too.”
Goodnight watched the Indian children eating gut.
“You went in but you didn’t always stay in,” Goodnight said. “I’d still like to know how you found out about these eighteen beeves.”
“Just gossip,” Quanah said. “Caddo Jake knew about it.”
“They say Mackenzie went crazy the night before his wedding and he died in New York in an asylum,” Goodnight said.
“Yes, we fought him too hard,” Quanah said.
“I rarely talk this much in a week,” Goodnight said, and rode away.
- 42 -
When Goodnight was out of sight one of the old Comanche women who was drying beef began to badger Quanah. Her name was Crow Talks and she talked as much as any crow. Her incessant chatter annoyed most warriors but Quanah indulged her and didn’t beat her. The main reason for his forebearance was that she had been a friend of his mother, Cynthia Ann. He had a hunger for news of his mother, even though she was dead.
Crow Talks knew of his longing and told him many stories, including some that weren’t true.
“Goodnight was there when the whites took your mother back,” Crow Talks said.
“Yes . . . you tell me that every time I see you,” he said.
“You should have killed him,” she said.
“If I had, whose beef would we be eating now?”
“Nobody’s beef,” he added. Sometimes he answered his own questions.
“There are lots of stories now about the old days . . . the time of the People,” the old woman said. “I’m a forgetful old woman . . . myself. I have never been quite sure what happened to your father, Peta.”
“Peta was wounded in the Palo Duro fight, when Mackenzie beat us,” Quanah said, wondering why he bothered to talk to this pesky old woman. Maybe it was because he liked to be reminded of the years of the Comanche glory, when the People were lords of the plain—then they could go anywhere, kill anybody, torture and scalp.
“I was not in that battle,” Crow Talks said.
“No woman was in that battle,” he reminded her, with a sharp look.
“Peta was good to your mother,” she said, thinking it might be time to change the subject.
Quanah had been with his father as the wound from Mackenzie’s soldiers festered and pulled Peta away.
They were picking wild plums on the Canadian River when it happened. Eight warriors sang over him as he died.
Peta had been their leader; at his death Quanah became the leader. Not all Comanches were pleased with that, but none challenged him, not even Isatai, the medicine man who had failed so badly when, for a second time, they tried to drive the buffalo hunters out of the old trading post called Adobe Walls. The whites had attacked there once before, led by the great Kit Carson, but the People had been strong then and Carson had barely escaped with his life.
In the second battle, when Isatai assured them that his magic was unbeatable, it had not proved as unbeatable as the big .50 caliber Spencer rifles, guns that could kill at a mile’s distance. Isatai lost his power then. He tried to blame his defeat on a skunk, but all the warriors knew it was caused by those Spencer rifles.
Crow Talks started in on something but Quanah cut her off.
“I don’t want that beef to spoil,” he said. “Go back to your work.”
- 43 -
Wyatt, Doc, and Jessie entered Arizona by way of Lordsburg, New Mexico. The sandstorm that cost Charles Goodnight eighteen cattle also gummed up several cars on the Southern Pacific Railroad.
The coach that finally carried them west also contained a fat woman with three howling brats and a Frenchman who spoke no English.
Naturally the coach rattled and bounced. Doc picked up a toothache and Jessie grew queasy from the uneven progress. Wyatt was merely bored.
“I didn’t bargain for cactus,” Jessie said.
“Well, you got some, bargain or not,” Wyatt replied. He tried to
Goodnight watched the Indian children eating gut.
“You went in but you didn’t always stay in,” Goodnight said. “I’d still like to know how you found out about these eighteen beeves.”
“Just gossip,” Quanah said. “Caddo Jake knew about it.”
“They say Mackenzie went crazy the night before his wedding and he died in New York in an asylum,” Goodnight said.
“Yes, we fought him too hard,” Quanah said.
“I rarely talk this much in a week,” Goodnight said, and rode away.
- 42 -
When Goodnight was out of sight one of the old Comanche women who was drying beef began to badger Quanah. Her name was Crow Talks and she talked as much as any crow. Her incessant chatter annoyed most warriors but Quanah indulged her and didn’t beat her. The main reason for his forebearance was that she had been a friend of his mother, Cynthia Ann. He had a hunger for news of his mother, even though she was dead.
Crow Talks knew of his longing and told him many stories, including some that weren’t true.
“Goodnight was there when the whites took your mother back,” Crow Talks said.
“Yes . . . you tell me that every time I see you,” he said.
“You should have killed him,” she said.
“If I had, whose beef would we be eating now?”
“Nobody’s beef,” he added. Sometimes he answered his own questions.
“There are lots of stories now about the old days . . . the time of the People,” the old woman said. “I’m a forgetful old woman . . . myself. I have never been quite sure what happened to your father, Peta.”
“Peta was wounded in the Palo Duro fight, when Mackenzie beat us,” Quanah said, wondering why he bothered to talk to this pesky old woman. Maybe it was because he liked to be reminded of the years of the Comanche glory, when the People were lords of the plain—then they could go anywhere, kill anybody, torture and scalp.
“I was not in that battle,” Crow Talks said.
“No woman was in that battle,” he reminded her, with a sharp look.
“Peta was good to your mother,” she said, thinking it might be time to change the subject.
Quanah had been with his father as the wound from Mackenzie’s soldiers festered and pulled Peta away.
They were picking wild plums on the Canadian River when it happened. Eight warriors sang over him as he died.
Peta had been their leader; at his death Quanah became the leader. Not all Comanches were pleased with that, but none challenged him, not even Isatai, the medicine man who had failed so badly when, for a second time, they tried to drive the buffalo hunters out of the old trading post called Adobe Walls. The whites had attacked there once before, led by the great Kit Carson, but the People had been strong then and Carson had barely escaped with his life.
In the second battle, when Isatai assured them that his magic was unbeatable, it had not proved as unbeatable as the big .50 caliber Spencer rifles, guns that could kill at a mile’s distance. Isatai lost his power then. He tried to blame his defeat on a skunk, but all the warriors knew it was caused by those Spencer rifles.
Crow Talks started in on something but Quanah cut her off.
“I don’t want that beef to spoil,” he said. “Go back to your work.”
- 43 -
Wyatt, Doc, and Jessie entered Arizona by way of Lordsburg, New Mexico. The sandstorm that cost Charles Goodnight eighteen cattle also gummed up several cars on the Southern Pacific Railroad.
The coach that finally carried them west also contained a fat woman with three howling brats and a Frenchman who spoke no English.
Naturally the coach rattled and bounced. Doc picked up a toothache and Jessie grew queasy from the uneven progress. Wyatt was merely bored.
“I didn’t bargain for cactus,” Jessie said.
“Well, you got some, bargain or not,” Wyatt replied. He tried to
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