Murder at Medicine Lodge Read Online Free

a Kauaun (roughly translated, “common”). As such, other than the pox pits, my skin was baby-smooth and I liked it. So did Crying Wind. But I digress.
    Raven’s Wing, a man whose sole desire in life was to be White Bear’s first lieutenant and thus was always seeking ways to impress him, put a flying tackle on Three Elks, successfully bringing him down. And while he was down, being held there by the others, I dug that bullet out despite Three Elks screaming and writhing. Then I stitched him up—which produced more yelling (he really was the worst patient I’ve ever known)—and finally bandaged him. It wasn’t a very good bandage but considering the grappling circumstances, a botched bandage had to do because the smell of blood was attracting biting flies. The insects were trying hard to get at the wound and their success would not have done at all. At any rate, as a hurried attempt, it would do until such time as we made a suitable camp. He wasn’t yelling anymore, just sort of snuffling and flinging away tears with the flat of his hand, looking at all of us—me most especially—as if we were evil.
    When I returned to my wife, she was eagerly waiting for any juicy tidbit concerning my patient, her dark owl-shaped eyes literally glowing with anticipation. Really, this love for rumormongering was her most unflattering trait, and despite the fact that months ago, gossiping tongues set against her had very nearly cost her her life, she still wasn’t cured. I was barely dismounted when she was all over me like a heat rash.
    â€œIs it true The Cheyenne Robber shot Three Elks in the back?”
    Looking at her with a hard expression, I wordlessly set to the task of hobbling my horse. She ignored the warning look, coming after me, squatting down beside me chattering like a busy squirrel.
    â€œA few days ago, two women saw Three Elks speaking to White Otter.” Her tone became more whispery, filled with wonder. “They were alone.” I glanced at her and she nodded meaningfully. In a much lower voice she finished, “He even helped her as she tied on the cradle board and—”
    â€œI fail to see anything untoward about his actions,” I shouted. “It sounds to me as if he was being nothing more than a helpful brother.”
    She slapped my arm. “Do you never understand anything? Three Elks touched another man’s wife! That’s why The Cheyenne Robber shot him.”
    I turned a pained face toward her. Crying Wind’s expression was utterly self-satisfied. I suppose I was remembering too clearly what gossip had almost cost me—cost us. That’s the only excuse I have for the complete loss of my temper. I really let her have it, and as each word stung, her lovely face became more stricken.
    â€œHow many times do I have to tell you that as a doctor’s wife your love for tattling is both unseemly and insulting? And may I remind you that this nature of yours is also unsafe? It wasn’t so long ago that you were accused of being a witch by those who should have known better. Yet here you are, eager once again to believe the worst of a simple accident and actually help your tongue-wagging sisters and aunties spread this harmful tale. You should all be thoroughly ashamed of yourselves.”
    She stood and walked away.
    I was not given anything to eat and she did not speak directly to me for the next three days. If it hadn’t been for Favorite Son’s continual grousing, I would have enjoyed the peace for, not long after arriving at Medicine Lodge, those three days were the only respite I was to know. Most especially after learning that, in the Blue Jacket army, no one liked the bugler.

TWO
    I think my most favorite thing is the grass-dancing, a ceremony that signals the opening of a camp. Teams of our longest-legged warriors wearing their finest dress, ventured out into the open fields and, to the music of the drums and the