Murder at Medicine Lodge Read Online Free PDF Page B

elevated whiteness put me in mind of a white-tailed doe coming into breeding season.
    Evidently Dangerous Eagle was having the very same thought. As I was closest to him, I was the only one to hear the soft humming sound he made as he struggled not to laugh out loud.
    The generals were at once deferential toward Mrs. Adams, placing her between themselves and White Bear. She made a grand show of speaking to White Bear, who wasn’t listening. Then, too, she spoke only Arapaho. White Bear could not understand one word the woman rattled off, and he was already concentrating on her uplifted breasts, tilting his head in order to study them from various angles. It was with superhuman effort that the rest of us maintained dead-pan appearances, never mind that tears of mirth were beginning to shine in our eyes. Even the gloomy-of-late Skywalker was affected, having to turn away, run a hand over a tightly clamped mouth. When he was more composed, he turned again to the three generals who, seeing that White Bear’s gaze had become quite fixated with Mrs. Adams’ offered-up bosoms, were glowing with embarrassment. On the command of one of them, a white man came quickly forward, this man able to speak Comanche.
    White Bear spoke pretty good Comanche but he was better at ordering Comanches to speak to him in Kiowa—a thing our Comanche allies complained about, saying our language is too hard, that it is the most difficult language of all the Nations. I’m afraid that this is true. Most of our words are identical, the meanings altered by the way the words are pronounced. For example, said one way, “A-ho” means thank you. Said another, “A-ho” also means, Kill him. As you might well imagine, when using this particular phrase it is imperative the speaker’s pronunciation be exactly right.
    And therein lies the problem. Every Nation has its own distinctive sound. Ours is a loud popping of the lips when saying words that begin with your letter p. Then, too, there is the overstressing the hard s. When doing this, a considerate speaker leans back slightly to avoid spitting in another’s face. These little quirks require a lifetime to master, and even our own children have a tendency to mangle the language. My own son was at that time only just nearing six and the way he spoke was hilarious. I think his difficulty would be described as a lisp. The truth is, my son did not have a lisp. Until he was eight, he simply couldn’t pop his p ’s.
    As White Bear and the Comanche-speaking man made halting stabs at understanding each other, Skywalker stood quietly by his side. My attention was pulled away by movement to the extreme right. A small guard of soldiers had been present when we rode in, but due to our unexpected number, more soldiers were quickly arriving. As they came to a stop and formed two straight lines, an officer quietly walked before them, making certain that they stood just right, with shoulders almost touching. He was also concerned that they hold their rifles fixed tightly across their chests. The greatest number of these soldiers were the black-white men known to us as Buffalo Soldiers, on account of their short curly hair.
    One soldier in their company was noticed by all of us, not because his was a white face set among the black, but because of a shiny thing hanging down from his belt. This shiny thing caught White Bear’s attention. Dismissing both the Comanche-speaking man and Mrs. Adams’ displayed breasts, White Bear turned to stare at the newly arrived soldiers. His hand toying with his chin, he muttered a question. The Comanche-speaking man answered in a voice loud enough for all of us to hear.
    â€œBuug-lah.”
    White Bear first looked to Skywalker, then, turning at the waist he looked back at me. I shrugged, indicating that I had no idea what a Buug-lah might be. Disgust creasing his broad face, White Bear turned back to the Comanche-speaking man.
    After a bit