Ruth went back to camp alone. The men hung back as if there was something they wished to discuss. Maybe Kid was wanted for training purposes for she had noticed all the men had been more skilled on horseback though none had looked better sitting astride a horse in her eyes. She chastised herself silently for having thoughts of the flesh.
As she walked through the camp, one of the women purposely tripped her, and the others laughed despite the fact she had worked along side them for weeks now, including the young women from the river.
It was hard not to feel angry, but she tried to remember to think on them with sympathy. They were so put upon here, doing all the work around the home, including the setting up and taking down of the teepees, as well as the raising the children with the exception of the older boys. Sometimes they even went to war with the men. And the thanks they got from their husbands was to bring back strange women they had exploited and abused for pleasure. They couldn't take their anger out on their providers, so they took it out on the captives who were valued so little.
She was the exception in that she was of value because of her gift of healing, so they found sneakier ways to show their discontent.
She stood up and dusted off her buckskin dress and smiled as if she were merely clumsy. The energy she spent to maintain a good disposition was worth it because all looked at her with surprise but a few looked at her with the tiniest bit of respect because of her response.
"I found it," Ruth announced as she entered the medicine woman's teepee. "I didn't know much you wanted of it, but Pahayoko sent me back."
Quanna turned but made no sign that she had understood anything that she had just said.
"Where would you like it?"
Again, there was no answer. "I know you speak English. Pahayoko told me."
She grumbled under her breath in her language, presumably making threats to the man or to Ruth or both.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.
She huffed. "So you can wear me out with your words? Already, you tire me."
She had been accused of talking too much on occasion. "I didn't ask to be here, but I am. I think we can learn from each other and benefit the whole tribe."
"Because of the Great Father in the sky? I lived with a white man in my youth until he left me and married one of his own. I know this white man religion, and I know that a life is saved is by the efforts of man."
"If you know this, then why are you afraid to have me come along?'
The challenge was accepted like she had hoped it would be. "I am Comanche. I fear nothing."
She took her Bible with her, not that she would have occasion to read it unless Quanna translated, which she wouldn't, but it reminded her to hold onto who she was and why she was here in the midst of this vastly different world.
"The woman in here is sick with ague. Milkweed is what will fix her. Not your prayers. People, not God."
"You can use your medicine," she assured her. "God made those milkweeds, but He can heal without them as well."
The sick woman's gaze locked onto her book. "It has power," she said as her eyes glowed with fever.
Ruth was surprised that Quanna had translated. She had to trust she would translate back to the woman accurately. "In a way but not in the way that you think. It helps us know who God is and what He requires of us and so connects us with our Creator, who is the source of power, love, and all healing. "
The woman ignored the translated words and continued to stare at the Bible like it was some kind of magic charm or talisman. Ruth prayed for healing, so that God's name would be praised among this people, and both of the Comanche women gasped, the sick woman because she felt better and Quanna because she felt her cooled skin.
Outside the tent, Quanna said, "You have magic."
"I have God."
Quanna snorted. It was easier for this sensible-minded woman to believe in magic than in God.
Ruth noticed a bag on the ground. It looked like laundry except that it had a very human shape inside the leather bag. "What is that?" Even as she asked it, she suspected she didn't really want to know the answer.
"There is a man inside there. We sewed him up in the leather that has not been tanned and we leave it in the sun. The rawhide will get smaller and it will squeeze him until he dies. But he is dead by now."
She spoke so casually about killing a man, and not just killing him but killing him in such a slow and torturous way. Ruth would have rescued him despite the consequences if it wasn't clear from the total lack of movement that he was already dead as Quanna said. She wondered with a shiver if she had helped to skin the buffalo that had donated its hide for such a terrible cause. "You're a healer. How can you stand to be a part of this in however small a way?"
"He was an enemy sneaking around our camp. He got what he had coming to him."
"Love your enemies." It was as much to remind herself of the command as it was to tell Quanna.
"What?"
"Do good to them which hate you."
"To them that steal your land? To them who would kill you also?"
"To them most of all. It's what the Lord asks of us."
"Your God would ask his people to cower before your enemies? That is weakness."
"It's strength. The easy thing to do would be to hate in return. To love only those who love you back. Loving the one who hates you requires a strength that only God can provide."
Another snort. Ruth wasn't surprised. She wouldn't believe it with words. She had to be shown.
