CHAPTER 32
When Kiowa comes out of his tepee, gushing squaw take notice of his improved health.
"What's that painted on your arm and chest?" Red Robin asks, batting her eyes.
Kiowa ignores her. He moves past her like she isn't even there.
"Kida said a Cheyenne medicine man used bad magic on him for killing their chief," a beautiful young squaw named Morning Dove tells the disappointed Red Robin. Morning Dove earned her name for her sweet voice and big brown eyes. She fiercely flutters her eyes at Kiowa as she pretends to chip away at a buffalo hide. Oh, if only you were a cat and I really was a dove. I would let you catch me and my heart. You could make me your spring love, my great chief. Why not me? I have had seventeen summers. I can bear you a mighty son in a cute little body.
"I believe it. If he met with Onendah and feels better, you know it is his special magic that healed Kiowa," Red Robin says, standing and watching Kiowa's every move. She places her hand on her cheek and sighs. When will he notice me? I have had fewer summers than Morning Dove, but I am far prettier.
"Onendah healed me once. He pulled a turtle out of my throat. Some enemy cast a spell on my father. When my father kissed me good night, the spell leapt from his lips on to my cheek and crawled in my mouth and down my throat. I couldn't even talk," Morning Dove says, opening her mouth and pointing to the back of her throat.
Red Robin looks in the back of the cavern, hoping to see some tracks. "How did he get the turtle out of your throat?"
"He said some prayer like, 'You can't live in here. This is not a cave. It is a little girl's mouth.' I choked and coughed until an ugly black turtle"—she holds up her hands about three inches in length—"came out of my mouth."
Red Robin gags at the thought.
A young boy runs up to Kiowa and proudly says, "My brothers and sister, even my mother and father, have all prayed for you to be healed. Onendah did as he said. He healed you, huh? I'm glad I gave him my pet beaver!"
Kiowa looks at the boy in bewilderment and wonders what on earth Onendah would do with a pet beaver.
"Thank you, Twists My Face. I think you have earned a new name."
"What is it?" the boy eagerly asks in hopes of ridding himself of the name his mother gave him on his birth.
"Giver."
"Gives what?"
"Not Gives What? Just Giver," Kiowa answers, patting the boy on the head.
"I like it. Giver!" The boy runs off in search of something to find, so that he can give.
As Paw and Kiowa leave the village, a growing number of young, attractive, single girls cluster. They each hand Kiowa a lily and say sweet things to him like, "Trade well, and when you return, my heart is yours to do with as you please."
So many girls say the same thing that Kida decides to say something entirely different. "Find what you are looking for or do not come back here." She kisses him on the cheek and bids him farewell, but she wishes she were kissing him on the lips.
Kiowa waves farewell to his mother.
He and Paw lead a train of horses loaded with furs and buffalo hides.
Always on the move, the Kiowa tribe is now several days' journey from the Hopi village. When they finally reach the village, it is as though the Navajo raid never happened. The pink clay buildings have been restored. Plains Indians from several different tribes wander about. Traders from all over the Indian nation barter with the Hopi, seeking the best deals for beads, corn, pottery, and sugar.
"If Anoki is still here, you go find her and see what has become of her. I'll do the trading," Paw tells Kiowa.
Kiowa doesn't have to be told twice. He rides up to the tallest pueblo and locates Anoki's father.
Welcome back, Kiowa! We have many wonderful things to trade, Kikmongwi signs in the Kiowa language.
You have learned our signs well, Kiowa signs back. I have brought you ten fine horses. Some were the Navajos'. I hope that doesn't upset you.
Ha! Ha! No, that is more than I ask for. I will take all of them to compensate for the weaker horses. Kikmongwi waves his hand and flashes his fingers fluently.
They are all strong horses, Kiowa signs back.
That can't be true. They carried Navajo. Kikmongwi spits at the floor to curse his enemy.
Where did you learn our signs? Kiowa asks.
My daughter has taught me much over this bitter cold winter. She was very weepy and would hardly move about since last you met.
Is she sick?
Sick with no sign of sickness.
That is good, Kiowa signs. And where is Anoki? Kiowa mistakenly points to his heart instead of signing her name.
Kikmongwi doesn't understand.
"I, uh…" Kiowa says, losing his wits. He looks around, like he can find them skipping about on the dirt floor. "Er…uhm…" he stutters. Why can I not sign the words I think?
Kikmongwi smiles and rubs his hands together. He signs that his daughter is at the river.
Please sit down. I would like to show you this fine jewelry that will make a good trade for Night Wind. The Hopi chief turns and motions with an open hand to an empty seat, but when he turns back, he finds himself alone in his adobe hut.
"He is much worse than I suspected. Go get her heart. She will make you happy days and even happier nights," the Hopi chief laughs to himself.
Kiowa rides up the stream, sending his horse, Night Wind, into a full sprint. Water splashes around him as the black stallion picks up tremendous speed.
A tiny doubt twangs in the back of his mind, like a cricket plucking its fiddle.
How do I even know if she feels the same for me as I feel for her? The doubt grows.
His long raven hair whips wildly against his bare muscular back. Looking this way and that, he searches frantically for her.
How she feels does not matter! All that matters is that I confess my love. And then…He thinks for a long time, contemplating what he should do next. Then it won't matter, because she will confess she loves me. She must. Why wouldn't she? His confident smile beams, straightening out to something between a flat smirk and a crooked frown.
Author's note: Here it comes... get ready for it! The love stooooooorrrrryyyyy!