The Comanche Way

That night after they finished eating, Melody gathered her courage, retrieved the moccasins from the leather bag where she'd hidden them while she was making them, and then walked up to Towahwi.

"Towahwi, I saw that you need new moccasins so I made you some."

Towahwi took the moccasins from Melody and looked at the beadwork, then looked up at her.

"They look like fine moccasins, but I don't understand the beadwork. This has three sides. What does this mean?"

Melody took a deep breath.

"I used a triangle because you are different from all other Comanche men. The red part is to show everyone that you are brave in war. The white part is to show everyone that you have made peace with the soldiers. The blue square is so everyone will know you are a man looks out for his people like the sky watches out for the land. The yellow border is to show that the sun has respect for you and watches over you."

Towahwi turned the moccasins over and over, looked at the beadwork again, and then smiled.

"I will wear these moccasins to the council meeting and tell them who made them for me. They will want to know who made them because they do not have moccasins so nice."

When Melody walked back to Running Fawn's bed, Running Fawn was smiling, but she didn't say anything. Melody took off her dress and slipped under the furs wondering what would happen next.

After Towahwi left the next morning, Running Fawn touched Melody on the arm.

"Melody, Towahwi knows now. I think you will soon have to decide how you really feel about him."

"Will he tell me?"

"In his own way, he will. You just have to watch what he does."

That morning, Towahwi came back to the village with a gutted antelope slung across his horse. When he walked up to the tipi with the antelope over his shoulder, Running Fawn and Melody were returning from gathering firewood. Running Fawn put down the armload of branches she carried and smiled.

"An antelope is hard to kill because they see far away and they run fast. How did you do it?"

Towahwi grinned.

"I wore my new moccasins and they made no sound at all so I could sneak up on it."

Running Fawn looked at Melody and winked, then sighed, "Towahwi, I am too tired to skin out an antelope."

Towahwi smiled.

"Maybe Melody would do it then."

Melody set about skinning the Antelope and then cutting it into pieces. When she finished, she went to Towahwi.

"I have heard you say that a chief does not eat until the people have eaten. We can not eat all this meat and there is not enough to dry. Who should I give it to?"

Towahwi smiled. This woman was indeed more than she looked. She had remembered what he'd said and wanted to maintain that tradition. He hadn't expected a white woman to do that, but then, he hadn't expected a white woman to do most of what Melody had been able to learn and do. She was as much Comanche as any white woman could be, and Towahwi thought she would make a good wife.

"The healer and his helper should get half a back leg. The rest should go to the old people. You know who they are. Divide the rest among them."

When Melody came back, Running Fawn had the fire lit and was watching it burn down to coals. She looked at Melody and smiled.

"Towahwi has shown you what he thinks of you. You should cook his antelope for him so he will know you have feelings for him. If you do, I think he will talk to you about becoming his wife."

As Melody sliced the antelope into thick slabs and then hung them over the fire to cook, she was torn between what she perceived as two opposite choices.

One choice was to leave the Comanche, go back to St. Louis, and write her newspaper article. She had enough understanding of the Comanche women to write an article that would gain the sympathy of the women in St. Louis, and she could get on with her life. Maybe she'd find a man who would be willing to let her continue to write while he supported her. Maybe she'd bear his children.

The second choice, assuming that Towahwi did ask her to become his wife, meant giving up her life in St. Louis for a life in a tipi on the reservation and doing the hard work of a Comanche wife for the rest of her life. Towahwi would no doubt want children and she did too, but could she be happy as a Comanche wife and mother to a Comanche man's children?

Melody was quiet while they ate as were Running Fawn and Towahwi. Running Fawn could imagine the thoughts running through Melody's head. Towahwi didn't talk because he was thinking of how to approach Melody. What he was going to ask her would change both their worlds.

Once they finished eating Running Fawn said she was going to see the healer because her elbow was painful. As soon as she left, Towahwi stood up and walked to where Melody sat stirring the coals of the fire to make them burn out. When she looked up at him, he smiled.

"You cook good antelope."

Melody smiled.

"Thank you, but I just did what Running Fawn showed me to do."

Towahwi squatted down beside her then.

"You do many things that Running Fawn showed you, but I think now you do not think about what she taught you. You just do as you think you should. That is what any Comanche woman would do. Her mother would teach her, but she would soon do things the way she wants to do them. I could not marry a woman who always did things the way she was taught by her mother.

"I have watched you go from a timid white woman to a brave women who is as much Comanche as she is white. I know it has not been easy. Running Fawn has told me about how she learned to be a Comanche woman. It was hard for her, but she learned and now would not want to be anything except a Comanche woman. She has had many chances to return to the whites, but never did.

"I need such a woman to be my wife. I have a problem though. The Comanche way would be for me to give that woman's father a gift and ask his permission. I do not know where your father lives and I do not know what kind of gift he would like."

Melody smiled to herself. In his own roundabout way, Towahwi had just asked her to marry him. She looked up at his face. It was the face of a man confessing his attraction to a woman, not the face of a fierce war chief. Melody didn't know if it was love that attracted her to him until that very moment.

She put her hand on Towahwi's and then lowered her head.

"It is also the way of white people that a man would ask a woman's father to agree to a marriage, but a white woman is free to marry the man she wants to marry. My father would not stand in my way if I told him I wanted to marry a certain man. He would try to accept him."

Towahwi put his other hand on Melody's.

"Would he accept me? I am a Comanche war chief who has killed many, many white men."

Melody looked up then.

"If I were to talk to him, I could make him understand that you are not that war chief now. If we were to marry, would the Comanche accept me?"

Towahwi smiled.

"Melody, I am a war chief who no longer fights wars. It is the council who would decide, but they already have accepted you. If they hadn't, the council would never have let you stay this long. I would have to tell the council of my plans, but they think too much of me to stop us."

Melody bowed her head again because she didn't want to see the look on Towahwi's face.

"Running Fawn said you would talk to me about this and I have been thinking about it. I can do some things a Comanche woman can do, but I am a writer of newspaper articles and will never be able to do everything as well as a Comanche woman can. I think you might grow tired of me when I can't do some things."

Towahwi used a fingertip to lift Melody's chin.

"I think you can do anything well enough to please me, and you can do something no Comanche woman can do."

Melody smiled.

"What could that be? As Running Fawn has told me and I have also discovered, I am no different than a Comanche woman."

Towahwi frowned.

"I have learned from white people we captured in battle and from the soldiers who brought us to Fort Sill that white people believe what they read in the white newspapers. The white newspapers say the Comanche kill men for fun and that Comanche women are slaves to their husbands. What you can do that no Comanche woman can do is tell the people who read your newspaper the truth about the Comanche."

"I wouldn't have to stop writing?"

Towahwi shook his head.

"I would help you write how the Comanche lived before the white man and why we fought and why we fight no more. It is important that white people understand the Comanche way. They will never accept us if they do not understand. It is also important that the children of the Comanche understand the past. The Comanche do not write down words. Only if you write down that past will they be able to do that."

When Running Fawn came back, she found Melody and Towahwi sitting by the dying fire, and Towahwi was holding Melody's hand.

She asked if they were done talking and Melody answered her.

"Yes. I have agreed to become Towahwi's wife. I have not seen a Comanche wedding since I got here. How does it work?"

Running Fawn smiled.

"Tonight, leave your dress on Towahwi's side of the tipi and sleep in his bed. Tomorrow, I will tell the village that you are man and wife. That is the Comanche way."

"There is no ceremony?"

"No. When a Comanche man and woman marry, it is their words to each other that bind them together, not the words of someone else. If you have both said to each other the words from your hearts, you are married. All that remains is for Towahwi to make you his wife. Do you understand what I mean?"

Melody had nodded that she understood, but that night when Running Fawn put out the fire and then went to bed, Melody was nervous. Her mother had taught her how her wedding night would be, but not much other than it would hurt and she should just endure it.

Towahwi took off his clothes and slipped under the furs, then held them open for Melody. She nervously took off her dress and then lay down beside him. Towahwi pulled the fur blanket up over them both and then put his hand on Melody's stomach.

"Do you fear me, Melody?"

"A little. I don't know what to expect."

"Do not be afraid. Comanche boys are taught to be hunters and warriors, but they are also taught about women."

That said, Towahwi let his hand slide slowly up to Melody's breast. Though she'd touched her breasts numerous times when washing and dressing, she'd never felt the tingle that raced through her body then.

The tingles became stronger when Towahwi lightly squeezed her breast, and she had to stop the moan that formed in her throat when he stroked her nipple. Her mother hadn't told her it would feel like this, so it must be wrong that she liked the feeling.

She thought about stopping Towahwi until he stroked her other breast and she felt the tingles tighten her core. When he stroked that nipple, Melody did let out a little moan.

She thought maybe that was all he'd do before spreading her thighs and entering her, but Towahwi was a long way from doing that. Instead, he covered her nipple with his lips and suckled gently. Melody felt her nipple stiffening and her nipple bed contracting into tight wrinkles. She also felt the little jolt in her core that caused her to moan again.

As Towahwi suckled at first one nipple and then the other, he let his hand move slowly down over Melody's contracting belly to the patch of hair on her mound. He lightly ran his fingertips through the coarse stands until Melody opened her legs a little, then cupped the soft lips between her thighs.

When Melody felt his fingers gently probing between her lips, she involuntarily jerked a little. It was a strange feeling, both pleasurable and also the most intimate she'd ever experienced. She was wondering if he'd do it then when she felt Towahwi's finger slip between her lips and begin gently moving up and down. At his first touch, she caught her breath, then gasped again when she felt Towahwi's finger enter her.

When washing herself, Melody had felt that entrance to her body and it seemed to be small even for one of her fingers. She'd seen Towahwi's manhood and even when soft, it was much bigger than her finger. That must be why her mother had said it would hurt when a man entered her for the first time.

Towahwi had been taught by his father and grandfather that a woman's first time would be painful, but that a way to ease that pain was to get her to relax enough her body readied itself for the man. That's what Towahwi was concentrating on, but not just to make the act easier for Melody. It was because he was fascinated by what he was feeling with his fingers and lips.

It was a common occurrence to see a village woman naked or almost naked, especially in the summer, but he had never touched a woman's breast or the soft lips between her thighs. He was fascinated by the way Melody's nipple grew longer and thicker and by the slippery softness he was feeling on his fingertip. The moans and gasps Melody was making in response to his touches were also more than he'd expected.

When Towahwi felt almost no resistance when he slipped one finger into Melody's entrance, he tried to use two, but stopped when Melody winced. She was not yet ready, but he knew a way to help her. He moved his fingertip up to the top of her lips and found the little nub hiding under a hood of thin soft skin. When he rubbed gently beside it, Melody gasped, grabbed his arm and squeezed.

Towahwi slipped his finger back to Melody's entrance and inside her, then back up to that little nub. This time, he felt Melody raise her body up a little.

When she rocked her body up every time he touched the little nub, Towahwi tried two fingers again. This time they were still a tight fit, but Melody didn't tense up. Instead, she opened her thighs wider. Towahwi moved to kneel between Melody's legs and gently lifted them at the knees, then moved forward until he felt his manhood touching hair.

Melody wasn't thinking about how it would hurt because the sensations Towahwi was causing took all other thoughts from her mind. Only when she felt the stiff tip of his manhood press against her lips did that thought come back, and then only for a brief moment. That was because Towahwi had bent his head and sucked on her right nipple.

She did feel him press his manhood gently against her soft lips and then move it up and down until he found her entrance. She felt the pressure of his manhood against the portal increase and the feeling of being stretched open. It was at that moment she felt Towahwi move his hand between them and stroke the tip of the little bump between her lips. The sensation was overpowering and caused her to both gasp and to lift her body up. She felt one, quick, stab of pain and then the feeling of being filled by Towahwi's manhood as he plunged deep inside her body.

When Towahwi began stroking his manhood in and out, Melody felt more discomfort than pain, but she also felt something else. She felt as if she and Towahwi had become one.

That feeling lasted after Towahwi had made half a dozen strokes and then groaned. Melody felt his manhood pulse inside her four times before Towahwi held himself up with his arms and panted for a while. Melody put her hands on his back and pulled him down on top of her. She didn't know why she did. It was just something her mind told her to do.

Once he was cradled between her thighs with his chest on her breasts, Melody stroked his back and whispered, "Now I am your wife."

Towahwi chuckled.

"I did not last long enough for you to feel the pleasures. The next time, I will, and it will be better for you."

Melody stroked his back again.

"I felt many pleasures this time. If the next time is better, I can hardly wait."

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There was no celebration when Melody and Towahwi walked out of the tipi together the next morning. That was not the Comanche way. Most of the village was happy for Towahwi. A few young girls were disappointed that he hadn't chosen them, but they understood the reasons why. Most fathers were happy that Towahwi hadn't chosen their daughter. They had the utmost respect for Towahwi, but he was half white and they thought it was important to keep the Comanche bloodlines pure since there were so few Comanche left.

The one thing that indicated to Melody that the village had completely accepted her as a member was when Towahwi smiled at her one night.

"The wife of a Comanche war chief should have a Comanche woman's name. Running Fawn has taught you to be a Comanche woman just as a Comanche mother would teach her daughter. She should give you a Comanche woman's name. She chose Onyda. It is an old name, older than the Comanche, and means the one who is waited for. She chose that because you are the daughter she wished for but did not have. I like the name because you are the woman I have waited for as well. The village will understand those reasons and will call you by the same name."

>>>--------->

Melody did write her article for the St. Louis Post Dispatch, but her editor replied that he wouldn't publish it. He said it painted the Comanche as people rather than the savages everyone knew they were and that a story like that wouldn't sell. He also said he wouldn't be needing her as a reporter any longer.

Melody was not a woman to be silenced by one man. She wrote to the anthropology professors in several colleges and enquired if they would be interested in an accurate history of the Comanche people. She said that as a white woman and former newspaper reporter living with the Comanche, she was in a unique position to write such a history. One, a Professor Murray of Columbia University, was working on a study of cultures of the American Indians and agreed to help her.

Melody's book, the first of several, was titled, "People of the Buffalo", and she insisted her name be written as Melody Arens Onyda Towahwi. It was a history of the Comanche people up until the intrusion of white settlers into their traditional hunting grounds. It the book, she compared the traditions and beliefs of the Comanche to those of Europeans and pointed out that most were more similar than different. Professor Murray liked her history so much he arranged to have it published. It was well received by anthropologists, not so well received by politicians though it did serve to raise awareness of the plight of Native Americans.

While Melody was proud of these accomplishments, she understood that she could not change public perception of the Comache by herself. Only the Comanche could do that, and to do so they would have to speak English. To that end, she began teaching English to anyone in the village who was interested. Towahwi understood that speaking English was critical to any advancement by the Comanche people and used his influence in the village to help make the people understand. Most sent their children to Melody to learn English and some of those children began teaching their parents and grandparents.

One thing Melody was adamant about was that the Comanche should never forget their own culture. While she knew the Comanche would eventually have to assimilate into the white culture, she didn't want them to lose their own culture in the process. It was too rich with stories of their past as well as stories intended to teach children the correct way to live. It was to that end that she began writing down those stories in English so that both Comanche children and white children could learn how they were different and how they were the same.

Towahwi proved to be as good a peacetime chief as a war chief. Rather than be content to live on what the Indian Agent provided, he organized the men of the village to begin raising horses. By breeding the sturdy and fast Comanche horses with a few of the horses raised by the vaqueros in Texas, they were able to improve the breed of what was then known as just a cow pony. Since the Comanche had favored paint horses, their cow ponies were also paints. Their horses were soon well known as the most colorful horses on the plains as well as being easy keepers and quick to learn, and were in demand by both the Indian tribes and the Texas ranches.