The camp was eerily quiet when the men came back from their latest hunt. Piatseena and his sons, Muea and Mupitz, were in the lead and saw the smoke curling from the fires but no one was there to tend them. No one ran out to greet them or congratulate them on a good hunt. The horses were all gone, too.
The fires looked as though they'd just simply been abandoned, their owners gone off to gather berries or to empty the traps of smaller animals. A few had gone cold but most were still smoldering as the men wound their way through the camp. Then, in the distance, Nocona shouted and they turned. He was holding up a hat like the pale men wore, shot through with an arrow.
Piatseena's chest constricted and he slipped off his horse and rushed towards his tipi, his sons close behind him. Their fire was empty too, as was the inside of the shelter. Batzi and their daughter, Tuaahtaki, were gone. The other men were finding their tipis similarly empty and an angry grumbling was beginning to sweep through the camp. There were no bodies and no signs of struggle, a fact that confused them all. Their women would not go easily.
"I'm going to check the river," Nocona shouted, jumping back on his horse and taking off for the camp's main source of water. Piatseena nodded his numb agreement, wishing he'd thought of it first.
No one judged the young chief. They all saw the way he still looked at his wife, as though he were a love sick young man trying to work up the courage to speak to her. This was a devastating blow to not know where she was.
Muea leapt onto his horse and followed Nocona, his eagerness for adventure parallel to that of his mother's. Mupitz stood for a moment in confusion. This had been his first hunt and he'd been successful. He was supposed to be celebrated, not come back and find his mother and sister gone. He quietly unloaded his horse and that of his father and placed their things in the entrance of their tipi, sure that soon enough, his mother and sister would be back to begin the curing and tanning process. They couldn't be gone forever.
Miles away, Batzi was clutching Tuaahtaki to her chest, hiding her under the buffalo robes she'd wrapped around herself to stave off the chill. She would have fought, should have, but she was sick and decided her energy was best used protecting her child.
The other women were probably safe at the river grove, hiding where the pale men couldn't find them. She'd heard them crying out the alarm, urging everyone to get away and to hide or to stand up and fight but hadn't had the strength to do either. Those who fought were captured. No one was killed to her annoyance. It would be better to die fighting than to be taken while sick and hiding.
A man rode towards her and she stiffened, tightening her grip on Tuaahtaki. "You and your daughter have blue eyes," he said conversationally, gesturing to the sleeping child.
Batzi nodded. "All my children do."
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Do they? Why?"
Batzi clenched her jaw. "I was not always Comanche."
His jaw dropped. Most Comanche simply accepted this answer and moved on. It was not unusual for the men to father children among the captives taken from the settlers though most did not live as long as she had or as well.
"When did you become Comanche?" he asked eagerly. "I've been looking for a few people who were taken."
"In my heart, I was always Comanche," she retorted angrily. "I will always be Comanche. The circumstances of my birth will not change that."
"You don't wonder about your family? They might be missing you."
"They are all dead," she said flatly. "My family is the Comanche now."
They finally arrived at a fort, the women and children who'd been captured settled together in a long bunkhouse with metal beds. Batzi recognized the shape of the item and so could tell the others what it was though they were all nervous about it. The man who spoke their language was dispatched with a white flag to negotiate a trade: the women and children for rights to the land the band was currently living on.
What the pale men didn't expect, however, was the sheer determination of will by the women to get back to their camp. No one much expected them to be as fierce and ruthless as their husbands and sons and slowly and in small groups, the women with older children made their escapes at night. After only a few weeks, only the oldest and youngest were left.
Batzi's illness subsided but now she knew what it was: she was carrying another child. The three before Tuaahtaki had been lost because they'd been moving while she was birthing them, dying on the side of the road in the blood stained dirt. All three had been sons which only added to Batzi's grief. This child she would not risk for anything. Piatseena would want them home, safe with him, but he would also want the child to be healthy.
A few days after she realized her condition, a small wagon with a group of pale men came into the camp. Batzi and Topsannah were sitting in the open yard by their barracks, enjoying the sun and watching Tuaahtaki running and laughing with a couple of the other children. They watched with stoicism as the wagon pulled up to the main house where the Chief lived. A woman climbed out and looked towards them, her face obscured by the long bill of her hat.
"Silly hat," Topsannah commented to the younger woman. "Though I suppose it does keep the sun out of her face."
Batzi nodded, an inkling of a memory in the back of her mind. It seemed that once she'd worn such a hat. "But can she see very well? Or feel the wind on her face? I'd rather have our ways."
"Of course," Topsannah agreed, shifting in her seat.
The woman and the men went inside and Batzi imagined she could see them looking out the window at her and for some reason, it scared her. She stood up then and called to Tuaahtaki. The little girl came over at once, holding her hands up to her mother and letting herself be carried inside out of the sun. Topsannah followed them and closed the door once they were all inside.
"They were watching you, Daughter," she said quietly.
Batzi nodded but didn't say anything more.
They'd only just gotten Tuaahtaki to sleep when there was a loud knock at the door. The remaining women cowered but Batzi squared her shoulders and answered it. She was the chief's wife and as such should set an example of courage even if she was terrified inside.
The man who spoke Comanche was standing there, rocking back and forth on his heels and smiling broadly. The pale woman and a man were standing beside him anxiously. The woman scanned Batzi's face then burst into tears and threw herself at her, wrapping her arms around Batzi in a tight embrace. She was talking quickly in a language Batzi felt she should understand but didn't. She carefully pried the woman off her ant looked to the man.
"Who are these people?" she demanded.
"They're your family," he beamed. "Your sister Jessica and her husband Mike. They were the only survivors of the raid where you were taken."
Batzi turned her eyes back to the woman. She had now pushed her funny hat back and her golden blonde hair was visible. She was tapping her chest.
"Jessica." It was just a sound to Batzi, but a repeated one from the man. The woman pointed at Batzi. "Bella."
She frowned. That name. it was the name the woman in her dreams called her. She studied the woman in front of her and saw a similarity to her own children: the nose and the color of their eyes were the same.
"Bella," she tried, her mouth wrapping around the awkward syllables. It didn't feel right so she shook her head and pointed to herself. "Batzi."
"Batzi," the woman tried, glancing anxiously at her husband. She said something else and clasped Batzi's hands in hers imploringly.
Batzi looked at the man.
"She wants you to come home with her to Texas, meet her children, let her take care of you. I'd say go. It's the best offer your likely to get."
Batzi shook her head. "My husband will come for me. He is a great warrior and my sons will not rest until we are all reunited."
The man seemingly repeated her statement to the woman who sucked in her breath. The man muttered in a low voice so she couldn't hear. "She's shocked you married a savage. Thinks you're crazy or something. Insists that they take you by force if they have to."
Batzi bristled at the description and pulled herself up to her full height. She was several inches shorter than Jessica but she made up for it in sheer intimidation.
"I will not be forced anywhere. I am the wife of a great chief and you are the savages who took me from my home. You are the savage trying to force me to return to a life I do not miss or want. Let me go back to my people and my husband. If you don't, he will find me and there's no guarantee that I can stop him before he kills you all to rescue me."
The couple's faces went incredibly paler as the man relayed the message, a hint of amusement in his voice evident even to Batzi. Jessica's eyes narrowed and she shook her head and pointed to the wagon.
The man sighed and looked at Batzi. "They'll kill him first. Someone's going to die no matter what happens here. They're insisting you go. Say they'll tie you up if they have to."
Batzi was furious now. She wanted to hit the woman but knew that that would be a foolish action. "Tuaahtaki will not go with me then. I'll only consent to go if the rest of the women are released and allowed to return to the band." She shot an angry look at the woman. "And my husband will find me, there is no doubt about that."
The man relayed the message and the pale man, Mike, looked slightly troubled but Jessica looked triumphant. Batzi turned on her heel and marched back into the barracks, calling the women over and explaining what she was doing as she gathered her few belongings together.
"Topsannah, take Tuaahtaki to her father. She's old enough to be weaned so now is a good time to go. Tell him they're taking me to Texas. He'll find me, I know he will."
Topsannah nodded, pride blooming in her chest at her daughter-in-law's actions. The sacrifice of one to save the many was worth celebrating. "And the child you're carrying?" she asked quietly when the other women had moved out of earshot. "Do I tell him?"
Batzi shook her head no. "He'll only worry and become reckless. I'll try to leave a trail for him as we camp but I don't know how far it is from here."
The two women hugged tightly and Batzi kissed her sleeping child, certain that she would see her again before too long. She straightened up and turned to leave. The other women were watching her expectantly, nodding their thanks as she passed them. She could only hope that this was a promise the pale men would keep.
It was much farther to Texas than Batzi thought, three days journey in the wagon. She was so sore and tired from riding in it after the first day, she refused the days after and instead walked along side it. Jessica at first seemed to be upset by this and her voice had a coaxing quality as she talked but Batzi ignored her, leaving a trail when she could whenever she could do so without arousing their suspicion. Finally, Jessica gave up her coaxing and walked alongside Batzi.
Her voice was, in a word, annoying. It did bring back memories, though, and Batzi sighed internally at that. It would be so much easier to hate these people if she didn't remember who they were and that they really were family.
They finally reached a small grouping of houses, low and small boxy buildings that had rock chimneys on one end. There were fenced in areas where some horses were grazing. As the wagon came to a halt, people started to come out of the buildings. There were a few children and a couple other adults, all looking curiously towards the wagon and the women walking beside it.
Batzi was introduced to everyone but their names were so strange and she had no intention of staying around long enough to need to know who these people were.
After a few days of getting used to them, sleeping on the floor beside the bed they provided for her, she was ushered into a room and Jessica and another woman pulled her clothes off and forced her into something restricting and uncomfortable, shoving her feet into tight hard leather shoes. First, though, she was forcibly bathed, her skin scrubbed almost raw until the shade of her skin was simply darker from the sun and not from the dirt. She endured it all in silence, letting the women pin her hair in the mornings and then sitting and facing back the way she'd come, waiting for Piatseena to come for her.
But he didn't come. The warm weather steadily cooled off and the grasses turned brown. Batzi's buffalo robe had been taken and burned when she arrived so she took the quilt off the bed that was hers and wrapped it around her shoulders, kicking off the shoes and sitting cross legged on the ground while she waited. She only moved her daily waiting inside when snow fell and it was too cold. The flimsy quilt was not as warm as her buffalo robe.
When the snows came she was far enough in her pregnancy that the family noticed. The knowledge of her children with the savage chief and the reality of it were two different things. A man who had frequently visited and checked Batzi confirmed the impending child to the rest of the family.
Batzi could tell that the family was hoping she would fall in love with the man and forget about Piatseena and in truth, he was nice enough to look at as pale men went. He knew a few words in her language and he tried to speak to her. He at least did her the courtesy of calling her by her Comanche name instead of insisting on calling her Bella like the others did. His name was Samuel and Batzi shortened it to Sam, her mouth having an easier time of wrapping around the short syllable.
Sam was quiet and gentle but there was sorrow in his eyes that spoke to Batzi's heart. It was the sorrow of a lost child and spouse.
Over the months, she learned through their pigeon language of English and Comanche that his wife had died the previous winter giving life to a son. The son had lived for a few hours before dying as well. He was now alone in the small town nearby, the area's medicine man. Batzi told him of her three dead children and about her two strong warrior sons. It had been Mupitz' first hunt and she was confident that he had done as well as his father and brother and regretted that she was not there to create his first buffalo robe for him.
With the first snow, Batzi also lost some of her hope of rescue. One morning while the others weren't paying as close attention to her as they usually did, she carefully took a pair of scissors and made her way to the small building where everyone tended to their necessary needs. She closed and locked the door and pulled the pins out of her hair, letting it tumble down her shoulders.
Typically, women of the tribe cut their hair when they married but Piatseena had asked her not to. He loved her hair so she left it long and by now, it was well past her waist. She gathered it in her hand and closed her eyes, carefully working the scissors through it. It was slow going, the scissors having some trouble with the thickness and weight of it but eventually, her feet were covered with the dark locks.
Next, she opened the top of the restrictive dress and carefully dragged the blades across her breasts, slicing open the skin. She closed her eyes against the sting but didn't cry out. If it weren't for the child in her belly, she'd continue, but for now, X's across the tops of her breasts was all she was willing to do. Once the child was born, she would continue in her grief.
She carefully buttoned up the dress and gathered up the hair, dropping it down the hole into the cistern. She wiped the blood on the blades onto her skirt and stepped out, making her way back to the house. The others would be eating soon and while the food was not for her taste, she needed the nourishment.
She heard a shout from afar and she turned her head, looking anxiously for the source. It had sounded like Piatseena.
This land was very flat but there was a slight raised area a little ways away. On the top of that raised area was a lone man on a horse. From this distance it was hard to tell who it was, white or Comanche…or someone else. Batzi watched as the man paced his horse back and forth for a moment before turning and spurring it down the hill. As he neared, Batzi's heart leapt into her throat. She recognized that horse.
"Piatseena!" she screamed, lifting her skirts high above her knees and running towards him as best she could. The snow was cold and numbing to her feet and the icy air burned her lungs but she didn't care. He'd come for her at last.
When he was close enough, he jumped off the horse, landing gracefully on the ground at a run. He caught Batzi up in his arms and spun her around, hugging her tightly to him. For a moment he didn't seem to realize the condition of her body but when he did, he set her down carefully and dropped to his knees, hugging her hips and resting his cheek against the swell of her body. She smoothed his hair and lifted his face to look at her.
"You cut your hair," he said softly, standing and fingering the jagged ends.
She nodded. "Just now. I thought…" she stopped and swallowed hard. "I thought you wouldn't be able to find me in the snow. I'm sorry I doubted you."
"You can grow it out. Did you cut yourself?"
She nodded and pressed the palm of his hand to the top of her breasts. "Only a little."
He gathered her against him and kissed her deeply. "Your sons have made you proud. They both killed buffalo on the last hunt and have been with me in the search."
"Where are they?" she asked eagerly, looking back where he'd come.
"I went ahead to check here. We've looked at every settlement we've passed on the way. That's why its taken so long."
"You didn't find my trail?"
He smiled and tucked her shorn hair behind her ear. "I did but the weather destroyed it after a while."
There were people streaming out of the house now, the men armed with rifles and the women cowering in the doorways. Piatseena pushed Batzi behind him automatically.
"No," she said softly, stepping around him. "You're the one they'd shoot, not me."
His jaw tightened. It was unmanly to be protected by a woman but in this situation, maybe that was for the best.
Batzi stepped forward and raised her hands to show there was no harm. She'd dropped the scissors somewhere between the privy and Piatseena so she was truly unarmed.
"Bella, get away from him. He's evil and only wants to hurt you," Jessica called. Batzi understood more of their language now than they thought and was angered by nearly everything they said to her about her husband and people.
"No. My husband. I go." She may understand, but she had trouble speaking their language.
"No," Jessica said firmly. "You're staying here with us. The abuse ends now."
"Yes. I go." Batzi looked up at Piatseena. "I have nothing else to wear. Do you have something we can trade for these clothes?"
He nodded. "We have some robes and blankets at the camp."
"They won't accept that." She sighed and looked between the two. The pale people were arguing with each other, talking so fast she couldn't keep up. "Do we have any rifles?"
He nodded. "I'd trade all the rifles and all the horses to get you back."
She smiled and cupped his face. "Not all the horses. I need a way to get back home."
"I'll carry you."
She laughed softly and shook her head. "It's too far."
"Nothing is too far if you're with me."
She turned back to the people who were finally quiet, watching them nervously. They had no idea of there was an army of Comanche warriors just over the hill or if Piatseena was alone and they weren't terribly anxious to find out.
"He give guns for me."
Jessica shook her head, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. "No. I won't let you leave."
Mike touched her arm. "You don't have a choice here."
"But she can marry Samuel and have a proper life. He'll raise the bastard as his own, you know he will."
"Jessica, let her go. You know she's unhappy here," one of the other women said. "She'll just hate you if you make her stay."
"I don't think you could make her stay if they've come for her," another man pointed out.
Batzi was quietly relaying most of what was being said to Piatseena and he bristled at the reference to his wife and child being taken by another man. Batzi laid a gentle hand on his arm and he quieted.
"Go get the rifles and a horse and we'll leave as soon as you return," she said softly. "Come back alone."
He nodded and pulled her against him again, kissing her firmly before turning and whistling for his horse. He swung up onto it easily and nodded at Batzi before riding off towards the hill. She turned back to them, straightening up and walking towards the chairs on the porch and sitting down to wait.
Piatseena rode his horse hard and fast back to the camp, leaping off when he got there and barking orders for a horse and a rifle. Muea immediately volunteered his own and Piatseena nodded, taking them and turning back towards the ranch. He was anxious to get Batzi back to camp that night so they could get home as soon as possible. Winter camp wasn't the same without her.
When he got back to the ranch, she was sitting on the porch and waiting. The others were inside watching out the windows when he rode up. He dismounted and slipped the lead of Muea's horse over the railing on the porch and propped the rifle beside it. He rested his hand on the horse's nose for a moment before reaching for Batzi. She smiled and stepped forward, letting him gently lift her onto his own horse before climbing on behind her. They nodded at the people watching them through the windows before he turned the horse and directed it back towards the camp. All was right in his world now. His wife was coming home and there would soon be another child and perhaps more after that. She was still relatively young and strong.
The years they had together were full of fighting and war with other bands and the settlers, but love and happiness with each other. Warriors died young in their band, as they should, but Piatseena was an exception to that. He lived a long life with Batzi at his side, holding grandchildren and great-grandchildren on his lap.
The following generations remembered the love between the Comanche chief and his white bride, a love so strong that he never took another wife, even though several of the younger maidens of the band expressed their interest. He simply directed them towards his sons and the other young warriors. All he needed was Batzi.
Tuaahtaki: Cricket. I thought it was cute.