LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Am I?” He glanced over to find her looking up at him. For the first time he felt self-conscious in her presence.

      “You have the ability to reach people. You’re able to inspire sympathy or understanding of anything you’re focusing on.”

      That was quite a compliment. “You said you’d read my book.”

      “And several articles.”

      His book was a personal account, and it perhaps revealed more about him than he was comfortable with her learning. He didn’t know why her opinion was different than anyone else’s. People across the nation had read his book, and he wasn’t concerned about their reactions.

      Sam couldn’t afford to expend any energy in the direction his thoughts kept leading. Enough was enough.

      * * *

      They rode in silence for a while. James rode back to let them know they would be arriving at the Cheyenne camp before long. Anticipation quivered in Marlys’s stomach. She’d been looking forward to this for so long. Meeting the indigenous people was part of her reason for leaving the East.

      “James will test the temperature with these people before we approach,” Sam warned. “Strangers can be a threat to them, and we don’t know their situation today. They may welcome us, they may not.”

      “Understood.”

      They drew near the village, where smoke trailed out the tops of tipis arranged in an encampment. Two skinny dogs ran forward, one barking, the other sniffing the horses. Half a dozen braves stood facing them, as though they’d been alerted to the visitors. They wore deerskin leggings, moccasins and coats and hats made of fur.

      James signaled for Sam to halt the wagon and rode forward. “Haáahe.”

      “Nėhetáa’e. Nétsėhésenėstsehe?” the tallest of the Indians called out.

      “He asks if I talk Cheyenne.” James nodded. “Héehe’e.”

      “Tósa’e néhéstahe.”

      “He asks where we’re from.” James spoke several more words, gesturing to Sam and Marlys. She heard their names, and James mentioned Cowboy Creek.

      The Indian seemed to ask more questions and pointed at her.

      James turned. “He wants you to climb down so he can look at you.”

      “I’ll help you.” Sam climbed down and came around the rear of the wagon to assist her to the ground.

      With one of the dogs sniffing at the hem of her riding skirt, Marlys took several steps toward the Indian. Sam remained right beside her.

      “Nétsêhésenêstsehe,” he said to her.

      “Red Bird asks if you speak Cheyenne,” James said.

      She shook her head.

      “Má’heóná’e,” James told them. “That’s the word for medicine woman,” he explained.

      “Tell him I have medicine. Soap and blankets. Are there any children?”

      James spoke with Red Bird and then turned to her. “There are about twenty children. A few are sick. Their medicine woman is old and feeble, and her helper died.”

      “I can help them.”

      James relayed her message, and Red Bird pointed to the wagon.

      “He asks to see,” James said.

      Marlys gestured for Red Bird to follow and led him to the back of the wagon, where she climbed up onto the bed to open crates and show him the contents.

      Red Bird looked down at her. His eyes were so obsidian they shone, his dark skin lined from the sun, though he didn’t appear old. He had a broad nose and a long scar from his lower lip across his chin, but in his uniqueness she found him strikingly beautiful.

      “Ho’eohe,” he said, and gestured for her to join him. Sam was right there to help her down, and she followed Red Bird toward the encampment. Red Bird spoke to James on the way past.

      “Leave the wagon, but bring the supplies,” James said to Sam.

      The other Indian men picked up crates as well and followed.

      Red Bird led Marlys to the largest tipi, called out before entering and held the flap aside for her. She took a deep breath and followed him into what appeared to be their chief’s dwelling. A man whose long, coarse black hair was shot with steel-gray exchanged words with Red Bird. Red Bird led Marlys forward. “Né’seéstse’hena.”

      “Take your coats off,” James interpreted.

      The three of them did so, and the chief gestured for them to sit near the fire.

      Among those in the tipi was a woman who was perhaps the chief’s wife and two women not much older than Marlys, as well as several children, ranging in ages. All the children sat quietly behind their mothers.

      “Éhame.” The chief pointed to Sam.

      “Chief Woodrow Black Snake asks if you are her husband,” James explained before he answered for Sam.

      Red Bird spoke to Chief Black Snake, and apparently the chief asked to see the contents of Marlys’s crates and burlap bags. The men who had accompanied them displayed the contents.

      Marlys explained that the blankets were gifts and that the bundles and jars contained medicine.

      The chief sent for someone, and after several minutes a brave helped an aged woman into the tipi. She inspected the herbs and opened jars to sniff and taste, then she spoke to the chief. He signed for her to take a seat, and Red Bird helped her lower herself before the fire. Her cloudy black eyes surveyed the newcomers with keen interest.

      The chief directed the two young women, and they brought the guests water, roasted nuts and jerky. Marlys instinctively understood they were being treated as honored guests, and the impoverished Cheyenne’s generosity brought swift tears to her eyes.

      She asked James to tell her the Cheyenne word for every item in her sight, even the women and children’s names. The women nodded, and the children smiled shyly when she said their names.

      “Néá’ee,” she said, thanking them. “Tell them it’s our pleasure to give them blankets.”

      James spoke and got up to take the stack of blankets and place it before the oldest woman. She in turn handed one to each of her daughters or daughters-in-law, kept one for herself and instructed Red Bird to give one to the elderly medicine woman. The old woman touched the plain gray wool and nodded at Marlys. “Néá’ee.”

      The chief’s wife spoke to one of her daughters, and the younger woman went to a huge woven basket under the slant of the tipi and returned with a folded item she placed before Marlys.

      The blanket the old woman had given her was woven with colorful stripes, obviously made from the dyes of berries and plants. The edges had been sewn with short, soft leather fringe. Marlys blinked. She wasn’t an emotional person, and she understood these proud people’s honor depended on an equal trade, but this poignant communion between people of different languages and skin colors touched her heart and soul. Thank You, Lord, for showing me their hearts and giving me this important moment.

      “James, please tell her it’s beautiful and will keep me warm for many years.”

      James translated.

      The woman raised her chin, and her daughters smiled. She then spoke directly to James. “Teke’ váótséva éháomóhtâhéotse.”

      They conversed for a moment.

      “She says a girl is sick with a fever. She asks if your medicine is powerful enough to heal Little Deer.”

      Marlys’s heart leaped. She wanted nothing more than to help these people. She’d touted herself as

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