Comanche Sundown: A Novel

22

258 22 T he riders who came over the rise above the camp weren’t Bad Hand’s soldiers. Their faces and horses were war-painted and they wore hats of buffalo scalp and horns; they were Eckitoacup, his son Tannap, and young Quohada who envied Quanah and his bunch and all the horses they had and were spoiling for a fight that would decree the band’s future. But in passing the pipe, Eckitoacup said his purpose was to reclaim his honor and avenge Quanah’s eloping with his son Tannap’s rightfully claimed bride. Quanah laughed grimly and watched them walk and prance their horses forward. “Come to make war on us,” he remarked to Cohayyah, who had joined the band in the fall. When Mackenzie’s soldiers overwhelmed the Kotsoteka on the North Fork of the Red, the young war leader Cohayyah had led the Meat Eaters who fought back with distinction and escaped. Though word spread among the soldiers and Texans that it was Quanah who stole back the twentyfive hundred Kotsoteka horses and mules from the soldiers, plus the herd of the Tonkawa scouts, he was actually many rivers away from the Red’s North Fork at the time; that honor and feat belonged to Cohayyah. When the once-great warrior Mow-way proclaimed himself a peace chief and promised to keep his young men on the reservation at Fort Sill if Bad Hand would bring back the hostage wives and children, Cohayyah led belligerent Kotsoteka not to Parra-ocoom ’s camp, but rather to join Quanah’s hellions on the Middle Concho. 259 The party of Eckitoacup and Tannap had not bothered to scout too well in going out for battle—they were outnumbered three to one. “They want a fight, let’s give them one,” said Cohayyah. “No,” Quanah growled. “No bloodshed over this. I’ll take care of it.” He stomped through the bottom yelling at Black Rope to bring up Deer’s Son, his warhorse. Weckeah came out to Quanah rigid with fear and blaming herself. “I knew they were coming,” Weckeah said. “I knew they would.” “Don’t get excited,” he cut her off. “Nothing’s going to happen. Nobody’s going to get hurt. Those people are just confused.” Quanah didn’t take time to paint his face or put on any battle finery except to fling on his headdress of hawk and eagle feathers that the Little Horses had given him. He wanted to remind Eckitoacup , his son, and their followers that he enjoyed the greater esteem as a warrior in their own camp. “Bose,” he shouted. “Get your horse and bring your mouth pipe. Come with me.” Bose saddled and bridled Mackenzie’s gray, and they rode out toward the oncoming party. “Play something,” Quanah told him. “And sing as loud as you can.” Quanah kicked the black into a lope, and the pacer bowed his fool neck and in his prissy gait stepped out to keep up, left legs swinging forward in tandem as the right ones came back. Reining with one hand, Bose stood up in the stirrups to keep from getting bounced sideward, and advanced on the intruders playing his mouth harp and singing. He had no idea what the conflict was about. He just recognized the buffalo horn hats and war paint on fifty or so faces. Under these conditions, on such short notice, the tune about town-trash cowboys would have to do. While you’re all so frisky I’ll sing a little song Think a little horn of whiskey will help me along? It’s all about the top hand who busted flat Bumming round town in his Mexican hat 260 See him in town with a crowd that he knows Rolling cigarettes and smoking through his nose As they drew near the riders Quanah said, “Wish you could play a flute.” “How do you know I can’t?” Tannap had mirrors hanging from his earlobes, braids, and the bridle of his sorrel horse. He commenced beating his rifle against his war shield and booted the horse into a dance. Bose couldn’t follow his rant except when he flung his hand and spat the words goineroibo tuh-tahvoa, nigger musician. Quanah ignored Tannap and formally addressed his father as “Ta’pave,” brother of all, then greeted the others, “Marúawekwai.” Tell me all about it. Eckitoacup inquired...