Cowboy Creek Christmas. Cheryl St.John

morning air. The aromatic smell of cooking meat made her mouth water. Together they entered the chief’s tent, where Sam already waited. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at her appearance.

      “I have no idea what’s going on,” she said. “I wish James would arrive.”

      “I have a feeling it’s a celebration of some sort, and you’re the guest of honor.”

      His assumption made sense after the women’s ministrations. “It’s a whole lot better than what I was imagining last night.”

      He brought his gaze to hers. “You never let on that you had any doubts.”

      She nodded. “No. I never let on.” She turned her gaze back to the gathering of Cheyenne before looking to Sam once more. “Thank you. For bringing me.”

      He made a noncommittal sound.

      They were seated across from the chief at the fire, and others crowded around them. The women served them roasted meat on a wooden platter, which they shared. Marlys tasted it and found it unlike anything she’d eaten, but tasty and tender.

      “What is it?” she asked.

      “Maybe elk or antelope,” he replied.

      “Do you think sharing this food is a sacrifice for them? I mean, are we taking away from their winter supply?”

      “They have meat hung in trees. If there’s no big game on the land where they’re allowed to hunt, the Army probably brought it to them.”

      “They’re buffalo hunters, aren’t they?”

      He nodded. “This tribe seems to have been left on their own and not relocated. The Army knows they’re here, so the Army is in a difficult situation, protecting the tribe while safeguarding settlers, as well. When the Indians are unable to hunt, they have to travel or starve. So if the Army is delivering supplies, they’re hoping to keep them here so they know where they are.”

      Their discussion continued until James arrived and was given food.

      “Red Bird told me the little girl is better today.”

      “Our prayers worked,” she replied.

      “And your Chinese remedy,” James added.

      Sam nodded, surprising her.

      “How did August fare the night?” Sam asked.

      “He ate supper and played with the baby. Ava laughed and smiled at him. Hannah read to them for a while, then she made him a bed, and he went right to sleep. She was planning to walk him to school this morning.”

      “Thank you,” Sam said.

      It had been a sacrifice for Sam to remain here with her and not go home to his son. Marlys wouldn’t have blamed him for leaving last night, but she was thankful for his company and protection. She felt doubly indebted. Hannah had taken on additional duties for her sake, as well. “I will be happy to prepare a mineral bath treatment for Hannah to thank her.” She gave James a thankful smile. “She can bring the baby, and I’ll care for her while she relaxes.”

      Before long James went out and returned with a crate holding jars of peaches. He opened several and indicated the mothers should share them with the children. The Cheyenne spoke among themselves, smiling and obviously enjoying the treat.

      “Where did you get peaches?” she asked.

      “I stopped at Remmy’s and bought all that Mrs. Herne had left for sale.”

      “Thank you,” Marlys told him. “I’ll repay you.”

      “No. This is my pleasure,” he said.

      Two of the women took the jars and returned with them washed clean and set them before James. James spoke to them, and they nodded and smiled at each other, carrying away the basket of glass jars.

      “I’m going to check on Little Deer and two other children, and then we can head home,” Marlys said.

      They were headed back toward Cowboy Creek by midmorning. The ride home didn’t seem as long as the trip getting to the encampment. Marlys was justifiably satisfied with the experience. She had told She Knows that she would come again to bring her herbs and to learn about the roots and leaves the medicine woman used.

      She offered to pay Sam and James, but both refused.

      “Thank you, James,” she said as the two men unloaded crates at her office. “I couldn’t have made the trip without you.”

      “I’m glad I joined you.”

      “Perhaps you’d be willing to spend a few hours teaching me more Cheyenne?”

      “Sure. I can meet whenever you want.” He mounted his horse and headed for the livery.

      “You owe two days for the wagon,” she said to Sam. “I’ll pay.”

      “I’ll let you pay for that,” he replied.

      She took money from a metal lockbox and gave it to him. “Thank you for agreeing to go. And for taking the night away from August. I’m not much of a cook, but maybe I could take the two of you to supper one evening.”

      “That would be nice.” He tucked the coins in his pocket.

      * * *

      News of her trip to the Cheyenne camp spread through town that week. When Marlys stopped at Booker & Son general store for supplies midweek, the skinny young man behind the counter held up one hand. “How.”

      She gave him a puzzled frown.

      “You heap big Injun doctor? Need something to smoke in your peace pipe?” He laughed heartily at his own joke. “Don’t see why you’re wasting your time with them anyway.”

      She narrowed her eyes. “What’s your name?”

      “Eugene. You’re the lady doctor, right?”

      She held her irritation and asked, “Who is the owner of this establishment?”

      “That would be Mr. Booker.”

      Mr. Booker came out of the back, where the portly man had apparently overheard her question, and pushed his spectacles up his nose. “I’m Abram Booker. What can I do for you?”

      “Young Eugene here seems to think it’s humorous to disparage potential customers.”

      He turned to his employee. “What have you done now, Eugene?”

      “I was just havin’ a little fun with the lady doc.”

      “I didn’t find it fun or funny at all. And I can just as easily take all my business to Mr. Hagermann’s. He’s always respectful.”

      Mr. Booker clenched his jaw. The store owner’s face turned red, and color crept all the way into his thinning hair. “Apologize to Dr. Boyd, Eugene.”

      Eugene didn’t appear very pleased to submit to the demand. He lowered his chin to his skinny chest and held his body tense. Through tight lips, he said, “I’m sorry, Dr. Boyd. I didn’t mean no offense.”

      “I accept your apology, Eugene. I strongly advise you to consider your words before speaking. It’s my belief that we have much to learn from other cultures, and when people respect one another, the exchange of information benefits everyone. You might find it ironic that I treated sick Cheyenne children with a Chinese remedy. Those children didn’t seem to mind when they got better.”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      “Eugene, go sweep the back room now,” Mr. Booker instructed him. “What can I help you with today, Doctor?”

      “I’d like to order an array of jars, similar to something you would use to display candy.”

      “I can show you what I ordered for my own use.”

      Abram Booker was