Tanayia Read online

  Panic nearly overcame me. My heart raced and blood rushed to my heart making it pound and throb.

  The strong smell of alcohol and ammonia made my eyes water. White walls glared back at me through the angry brightness of an early morning sunlight. The whimper of small children filled the room. Sickness and the sounds of approaching death were all around me. I was in a different place now. I knew it was not the attic or the dormitory.

  The dormitory was also filled with sounds of crying children, and sharp squeals of laughter, and of silence. Sometimes the silence was calm and reassuring. Other times filled with tension. Still it was familiar to me. I was able to read the mood of the day as easily as I had once gauge the depth of the winter river in Apacheria.

  I knew the sense of the dormitory where I lived were of wax lemon oil and sweat and dust. I was not in a familiar place.

  The feelings of death and sickness seemed press all around me. The mournful wail of a sobbing child reached my ears. Fear tightened its grip around my throat. I wanted to jump up and run from the room. I wanted to clamp my hands over my ears and never listen to the sound of death again. I'd had enough of death and of the dying. Anywhere I escape to would be better than this place.

  Surely, even the white man's heaven would be free of this suffering.

  I must have made a sound, for I felt the woman beside me startle.

  “Doctor she is awake”. I recognize the voice being that of Mary Billy.

  I tried to move my head to follow the sound of distant voices but it hurt too much.

  “Tay. . . Tay,” I heard Mary Billy's words but my body was heavy with fatigue. I closed my eyes and slept.

  Later I awakened to find a young man leaning over me. His dark face was filled with seriousness, his brow creased in a thoughtful frown.

  “Mary Billy tells me you are called Tay. You are Nde,” he said, his voice a deep pleasant rumble.

  “Yes,” I managed to whisper. I was uncomfortable with a total stranger assessing me with such a penetrating gaze. It reminded me of the hawks which flew overhead at my home. Again, and again they would circle, examining every blade of grass, every leaf upon a tree branch, until the hawk found what he had searched for. And then, only then, would he come to rest.

  “My name is Simon Joseph. I am a doctor. My people are Osage from the Oklahoma Territory.”

  I looked up at his features of his face. His lips were large and full, his nose beaked. His eyes were sand colored not black, and his eyebrows lifted one at a time like the wings of a bird. Not an attractive face, but a face filled with kindness.

  My head no longer throbbed, so I tried to sit up. The doctor placed a cushion behind me and I offered him a smile.

  “You are a doctor in a white man's school?” I asked, amazed that an Indian could be permitted such a liberty.

  “No. I work for the United States Government. Part of my job is to travel to the boarding schools and check on the living conditions. At other times, I work with the Army. My counsel is asked in setting up the new reservations outside of the Indian Territory,” he told me, placing his fingertips against my right wrist.

  His touch was reassuring and I found myself confused at the rush of emotion I felt. I noticed his fingers were short and thick. I could not see the bulges in his knuckles. His hands reminded me of my uncle's hands. Immediately, I was since I sensed he trained with his own people as well as those of the white man, to be a healer. I realized how very much I wished to trust the stranger. I felt my fear fade away.

  “Tay be well?” I asked.

  “You have been very ill. The medicine is working, which is a good sign.

  “Many days in attic.”

  His face filled with anger and he glanced toward the door of the infirmary. “I know. Tay, I promise you changes will be made. You must not worry about the attic or Sister Enid. I want you to rest and get well.”

  “Yes. Tay get well.”

  “If you rest I’ll arrange for you to have a visitor tomorrow.”

  “Sister Kathleen?” I asked, surprise the kind teacher isn't already here to see me.

  “No. Sister Kathleen can't come to see you just yet. A young man named Jacob Five-Wounds, has been asking for you. And I thought you'd like to thank your friend, also.

  “Friend?” I asked, watching Mary Billi place a pitcher of water on the bedside table. My thoughts confused about what Simon Joseph was telling me. Mary Billy was beside me, yet she did not speak.

  “Yes, I thought you'd like to speak with Anna Thunder.” he said releasing my wrist. “I thought you'd like to thank her for saving your life.”

  “Anna Thunder saved my life.?” I asked. I could hear the amazement I felt ringing in my voice. The doctor's gaze narrowed and he frowned down upon me.

  “Don't you remember?”

  “I. . . “

  “Anna Thunder took care of you.” Mary Billy said, crowding beside the doctor to offer me a cup of water. “When Sister Louisa brought water and broth, Anna gave you her portions. She kept you alive Tay. If it had not been for her you would have been dead before Dr. Joseph arrived.”

  I did not answer. Instead I greedily drank the offered water. The coolness of the water felt good against my swollen throat.

  I would have died had it not been for Anna Thunder.

  The knowledge slid over me like blinding sunlight.

  I did not know how to reply. Yet I knew those words would never leave me.

  “That's enough water, Tay.” Dr. Joseph said, motioning for Mary Billy to take the cup away. Mary Billy removed the cup and placed it on the table.

  I closed my eyes and tried to compose myself.

  Anna Thunder had saved my life, I thought as fatigue dropped its silent cloak over me. Anna Thunder hated me, but she saved by life. I felt shame for my thoughts about her while we were locked inside the attic. I had thought she wished to harm me, when in fact, she had gone hungry in order to save my life.

  Though I had spared Anna Thunder Sister Enid’s wrath I doubt very much if I would have nursed the Comanche through an illness.

  I knew Anna Thunder had paid a greater price than I. While we were locked in the attic,

  “Little Fawn?” I whispered, glancing up at Dr. Joseph.

  “I’m sorry, Tay,” the doctor said, “Little Fawn died last night.”

  “Little Fawn died?” I repeated his words, unable to understand why the Creator took the life of the young girl. Suddenly, a question fell upon my troubled heart. “Anna Thunder was with sister. Here?”

  “No, Tay. Anna Thunder was still with you. Inside the attic.”

  “No!”

  “I'm sorry.” Dr. Joseph said, “So very sorry.” The doctor patted my hand before he left my bedside. Mary Billy looked at me through sad, brown eyes.

  “Tay, you must not blame yourself,” she said. “Anna Thunder is filled with sorrow. But she doesn’t blame you for Little Fawn’s death. It was Sister Enid who refused to send for the doctor. Anna Thunder knows that it is Sister Enid’s fault Little Fawn is dead.

  I nodded because my sorrow was such I could not speak. It may have been Sister Enid’s fault that Little Fawn was dead; but I was the one who kept Anna Thunder from Little Fawn’s side.

  It was my fault that Anna Thunder had not been with her sister when she died.

  Mary Billy covered me with a gray wool blanket. After a time, I slept.

  Though the doctor would not allow me to attend Little Fawn’s funeral, he did allow me to pay my last respects.

  I was carried into the small chapel and set upon the first pew.

  I looked at Anna Thunder sitting in a wooden chair beside Little Fawn’s small casket. My own hand clenched in a fist. Anna Thunder looked at me. Her face looked tired and older than her years. I looked into her eyes and saw only emptiness and deep sorrow.

  “Sister Louisa say, Anna Thunder cannot take Little Fawn home. She told me Little Fawn bury here. On hill behind chapel.”

  “I am sorry.” I rep
lied, knowing how difficult this was for the Comanche to learn.

  “White people no understand. Little Fawn’s spirit is not at rest. No go to the place of our ancestors. Little Fawn must go home.”

  I nodded. What could I say? The Nde believe the same that the spirit of our dead ones would not rest in a land far from home.

  I search my soul for something to tell Anna Thunder to give her hope. I wanted her to believe that Little Fawn would be watched over. Taken care of. Little Fawn was so young. Too young to be without her sister to take care of her.

  I felt my tears rolled down my cheeks. I did not wish for Little Fawn to be alone in the darkness.

  I listened to the stillness in my heart. I felt the love all around me. Suddenly, I knew the white man's God would take care of Little Fawn. He would take her small hand in his and guide her to a place of her ancestors. Little Fawn would never be alone again.

  I knew I could not explain this feeling to Anna Thunder. Our ways were too different. But my heart was so heavy with the suffering of the Comanche, I knew I must find a way.

  I recalled what Sister Kathleen had told me about her brother and his wife, of their death. And of the white man's heaven.

  “Sister Kathleen say the Creator watches over all things. Over the animals. Over the white men and over the Indian. The Creator loves all people. His teachings say, we are all brothers. This Creator loves all children. He will watch over Little Fawn,” I told her.

  Anna Thunder glanced over at me, her eyes filled with tears. Her lips trembled when she spoke. “How will this Creator know Little Fawn?” She not have a medicine pouch or our grandfather's sacred blessing. How will this Creator know the white man know my sister?”

  “Sister Kathleen's brother is in this place. As is his wife. They were kind people, like Sister Kathleen. They will listen for Little Fawn’s gentle laughter. This is how they will find her. They will know her by her smile.”

  Anna Thunder nodded. Placing her hand on the bleached wood of the casket, she said, “My sister, her heart filled with much love. For all. Even the white man’s God will know this.”

  “Yes,” I said. “He will know this. Sister Kathleen will say white man’s prayers. Her people will watch over Little Fawn.”

  Anna Thunder glanced from the casket to the large wooden cross hung over the altar. For several moments she was quiet, giving counsel to my words. Then she sang a soft, gentle chant.

  The chant was filled with reverence and with love.

  I knew Anna Thunder was praying to the god of her people. Soon I recognized that song from my feverish dreams. She offered the same power up to heavens for me. I felt shame for the way I treated her in the past.

  Her song rose and fell until only its soft echo whispered around the room.

  Sister Kathleen, kind to Little Fawn,” she said in a little whisper. “Sister Kathleen good. A woman of much honor. She not lie to Tay. If she says white man's Creator watch over Indian, it is so.”

  I brushed the tears from my face then rose to my feet. I was weak, but I did not wish to leave the Comanche alone to deal with her sorrow.

  I moved to stand beside Anna Thunder. I took her hands in mine, as I had taken Yellow-Bird’s so many moons ago.

  An Indian Reservation a parcel of land set aside for Indians surrounded by thieves.

  -- General William T. Sherman

  1865

  Chapter 12.

  After many weeks had passed I regained a measure of my former strength and was allowed to help with the care of the small children who remained in confirmatory.

  During this time, Jacob Five-Wounds was assigned to the task of bringing firewood and refilling the water buckets inside the infirmary. Doctor Joseph also asked him to remain so that I and Mary Billy could be relieved of the heavy lifting while we care for the patients.

  Doctor Joseph believed that sponging down the arms and legs of our young charges with a solution of water and alcohol would speed their recovery. Each morning Mary Billy took care of the task, while I was assigned to afternoon duty. It was fatiguing, the constant sponging and lifting of children. I was lucky to have Jacob Five-Wounds to help me.

  The air inside the infirmary was heavy and my short hair clung to the back of my neck and to my forehead in damp strands. Using the hem of my apron, I wiped the perspiration from my face.

  Jacob refilled a large bowl with the doctor's healing water and placed it on the table. I glanced around the room and counted six more children to bathe. Placing my hand against the small of my back, I tried to relieve the discomfort I felt for the repetitious movements.

  “Tay, you have been on your feet since lunch,” Jacob said. “Sit down and rest. I will bathe Emma. Doctor Joseph said you are not to tire yourself, otherwise your fever will come back.”

  I glanced at Emma, a pretty Kiowa girl, her eyes closed in sleep and her round cheeks flushed from the fever. I knew Jacob Five-Wounds would take good care of Emma. Still, I hesitated. My mind was suddenly filled with thoughts of Little Fawn.

  Brushing my fingertip against the soft flesh of Emma's face, I said, “I gave my word to the doctor.”

  “I know,” he replied, moving nearer. “The Nde always keep their word. No matter the cost.”

  I felt Jacob's warm breath fan my temple and my heart pounded with all the fury of a war drum. Glancing into his dark eyes, I saw a wisdom far beyond his years. Jacob had seen much sorrow in his lifetime. He, too, had lost loved ones both to illness and to hatred. He understood my fears and my past. Jacob Five-Wounds did not judge me.

  “You have taken good care of the children, Tay,” he said, his voice low and intense. I clung to the emotion I heard in his words. “You have kept your word. Now it is time for you to rest.”

  Jacob took the sponge from my hand. His fingertips brushed against my palm, but still I could not move away. A warm shiver like hot honey slid along my spine and I wondered if my knees would support me.

  I felt the water from the sponge dampen the sleeve of my dress. The dampness evaporated quickly when it felt like the pulse point of my heated wrist.

  Was Jacob going to take my hand in his? We were alone except for the sleeping children inside the infirmary. The doctor would not return until evening.

  Being alone with a man was forbidden at the school.

  I watched Jacob's gaze fall on my lips.

  Suddenly, I did not care that we would be punished if one of the sisters found us.

  Kissing, I knew was a white man's way of courting. A wave of uncertainty fell upon me. Kissing, was not the way of our people. Still, I wondered what it would be like to kiss Jacob.

  Should I allow such a liberty?

  Jacob brushed a strand of my hair away from my forehead.

  “Are you promised to anyone?”

  I thought of Apacheria. I recalled the night White Eagle played a wooden flute in a sweet courting song. And of the days we had walked along the stream’s edge.

  I thought of all the times I'd lay awake, praying White Eagle would speak to my grandfather and arrange our marriage.

  I swallowed the tightness in my throat. “No, Jacob. I am not promised to anyone.”

  “Life is different for us now, Tay.”

  There is no place for us to walk. No place for us to build a lodge. I cannot speak to your family nor bring gifts of the ponies. The old ways are dying. Just as our people are dying.”

  I felt my eyes fill with tears. Never had I heard such sorrow in anyone's voice. I found I could not speak. I could only listen to the painful whisper of his words.

  “The white man's way is not a path that I understand but it is the path I must follow when I leave the school.”

  As I listened to Jacob speak, I realized how much older he seemed since I met him outside the garden. Much had changed for us during those many months. I knew what Jacob said was true. Our world was different. Our lands were vanishing. Our homes were gone. There was no one to arrange my marriage. No clear path for me to follow.
>
  “I had thought to live in the ways of my mother and my grandmother,” I said. “To build my wiki-up near the place of gentle winds. To watch my children, play in the evening firelight. And to grow old among my people.” Looking into Jacob’s eyes, I felt my pain. “Everything I have ever known was taken from me. I am confused. I do not know if there is a path for me to follow.”

  “Poor, Tay,” he said, kindly. “You have lost even more than I.”

  I felt my confusion grow. I had strong feelings for this man—stronger, perhaps, than my feelings had been for White Eagle. But I no longer knew who I was. Tanayia was lost to me, I realized, and someone named Tay had taken her place.

  I stepped away from Jacob. I saw my hands shook, and I clasped them tightly together. “I cannot speak of the future now,” I told him, my voice harsh. “Please Jacob, do not ask me to live the life of a white woman.”

  I remember the hatred in Sister Enid’s voice when she spoke about the Indians. “I do not think it is possible for us to live with the Whites, Jacob. I do not think the white men will welcome the Indian into his world.”

  Jacob turned, placing his hands on his hips. “You are right, Tay, to say they do not welcome us now. However, they will learn to accept us in their world. What choices are there left to us? The old ways are dying, even more quickly than our people are dying. I came to this place when I was five years old. My family was starving, Tay. Starving. My parents sent me away as I would have plenty to eat.”

  “I did not know this, Jacob. I'm so sorry.” My reason for coming to this school was painful. For I have no people to return to. But Jacob. . . Jacob had to leave his family and his home. Every night he must wonder if his family is well. If his people are still alive; if he has a home to return to. This, I thought, is much crueler than being left alone in the world. “Do you have news of your people?”

  Jacob’s eyes were troubled when he spoke. “My grandfather is very ill. My mother does not expect him to live through the summer.”

  “Perhaps Doctor Joseph could arrange—"

  “This is why I wish to enlist in the Army, Tay. An Indian Scout can travel across the country. Visit his family. When an Indian wears the United States Army uniform he is not beaten and searched. He is not asked for a pass if he leaves the reservation. His family does not go hungry. He is still a warrior. He is treated like a man.