BLOOD MOON
A SHORT STORY BY RICHARD SWAIN
The blood moon reached down touching the flying embers of the fire as the shrill cry of the newborn echoed against the mountain. He was given the name Quanah, meaning “fragrant.” One hundred years later, the last Chief of the Comanches took his first breath and honored this ancestor with the same name.
How might I describe this territory known as the Comanchera in the year 1750? A sea of shimmering buffalo grass in crisp morning light. A land of subtle beauty punctuated by canyons sculpted by the forces of wind, water, and temperature. A million bison swelling into a carpet of black against a brilliant blue sky. It was in this land that Quanah grew in force and stature.
His ancestors moved south from the central plains of Eastern Colorado and Western Kansas, between the Platte and Arkansas rivers, to what we call the Llano Estacado, the staked plains. These fierce and proud Comanches soon gained the name “Lords of the Southern Plains.”
The Comanches first got their horses from the Spanish and Pueblo Indians. The horse quickly allowed the tribe to master their environment and became a symbol of wealth and prestige. They were the most skillful in their horsemanship, and grew vast herds for hunting, trading, and fighting. By the time Quanah was six years of age, he was more at ease on horse than on foot. His only clothing was a deerskin pouch worn from the waist. He named his horse Silver Moon and was soon riding faster and farther than boys much older in age.
As a young man, Quanah undertook a vision quest, a rite of passage for spiritual understanding and life direction. Alone, he traveled into the wilderness of the canyons for three days with only water to sustain him. He felt intensely aware of his surroundings, and drew closer to the celestial objects of sun and moon to shape his future. Coming from the canyons, he cleansed in the Brazos River, and rubbed his body with sage. As he inhaled the fragrance of the herb, he swelled with the sense of manhood in his life. The shaman met Quanah to interpret his vision. The young man spoke of words filling his mind that were not of his people. He revealed dreams of distant travel.
The Spanish and French held trade fairs in Taos and Santa Fe. Quanah was quick to learn their languages and became the trade spokesman for the tribe. The Comanche valued modesty, and would be soft spoken, but carried an underlying ferocity that set them apart. Quanah would dress in a deerskin shirt with leggings, wear colorful beaded moccasins, and necklaces of cowrie shells. He was a commanding and resolute figure that held the respect of others.
Music was central to the life of the Comanche, and from an early age Quanah would play the flute. Often in a late evening when the half-moon shone across the expansive grass, he would wander away from the teepees and play his flute to the spirit world above. With only his musical notes rising above the muffled silence of his surroundings, a vision of family filled his heart and mind.
The name Cholena means bird, and this beautiful young maiden always caught the eye of Quanah as they grew through the years. He selected one of his finest horses, and gave it to her family to signify his ability to care for her in marriage. She accepted his proposal, and her mother built their first teepee. Cholena wore her hair in two thick braids decorated with brilliant colored beads. She painted her deerskin shirt with signs and symbols that signified the position of her husband within the tribe.
Toh mua is the Comanche word for a year of moons, and it was at this time their son was born. He was given the name Nocona, meaning one who wanders. Following in the footsteps of his father, Nocona quickly became a skilled rider of the horse, and would travel with his father to the trade fairs. His sister Angeni soon followed, and Quanah’s heart overflowed with the blessings of his ancestors and of the celestial bodies that guided their life.
In 1781, a smallpox epidemic decimated the Comanche tribe and many perished. The blood Moon fell upon the teepee of Quanah and Cholena, and the spirit of their son rose to the heaven above. Quanah departed to the canyons of his youth carrying this deep feeling of loss. His flute spoke to the stars while his heart grappled with pain and loneliness. In his suffering, Quanah buried his flute and brought forth his bow and arrows.
From his youth, Quanah was trained to be an excellent archer. He could fire a rapid number of arrows with great accuracy while riding at a full gallop. He could lay down against the side of Silver Moon and shoot his arrows under the neck of the horse with the same marksmanship. The trader became the warrior. He quietly gathered clay, berries, and bark for the red war paint that would guard his soul and protect his horse.
The red paint glistened in the noonday sun as the medicine man chanted and blew smoke of sage leaves into the face of Quanah. Cholena trembled as she prostrated herself before her husband. A slow anguish touched her inner being and she was filled with a quiet sadness. As he rode away, the brilliant red bore the spiritual strength of his ancestors.
His band had lost a vast number of horses in previous years to the Spanish. Quanah and his people had declared war against the Kiowa tribe as a way to rebuild their herds. The battle was menacingly wild and fierce. Each respected the other’s bravery and fighting abilities. The crush of men and horses upon the red dust gave the illusion of shards of broken glass spilling across the earth. Quanah and his people were victorious in battle. He breathed deeply as he rode back to their camp. The jagged outline of the canyons to the north were highlighted by the silver moon, and he felt a grim and ironic pleasure in the two broken arrows that pierced his side.
Cholena cared for her husband and treated his wounds each day. A cool breeze entered the teepee and a warmth pushed against him as Angeni nestled by his side. The arrow shaman would come and place special arrows into the ground to guard his soul and scare away the disease. Quanah called for his flute to be unearthed, and requested that it be cleansed in the Brazos River.
As he played his flute, visions swam before him. He saw his people resplendent and touching lightly upon the land. He felt an overwhelming simplicity in his life now and in the hereafter, and he witnessed his spirit pass freely between these two worlds. His attention wandered to the image of his son Nocona, and a playfulness filled his mind as he extended a hand upward, grasping what lay before him. He summoned his wife and spoke with love as she gripped his arm.
It was evening as they walked toward the river. Angeni gathered the sage leaves her mother would rub against his body. He wore his finest cowrie shells and nothing more than the deerskin pouch at his waist. The blood moon looked down upon Quanah as he stepped into the water, his flute held high above his head. He breathed deeply as he willed his heart to cease.
RICHARD SWAIN
A SHORT STORY BY RICHARD SWAIN
The blood moon reached down touching the flying embers of the fire as the shrill cry of the newborn echoed against the mountain. He was given the name Quanah, meaning “fragrant.” One hundred years later, the last Chief of the Comanches took his first breath and honored this ancestor with the same name.
How might I describe this territory known as the Comanchera in the year 1750? A sea of shimmering buffalo grass in crisp morning light. A land of subtle beauty punctuated by canyons sculpted by the forces of wind, water, and temperature. A million bison swelling into a carpet of black against a brilliant blue sky. It was in this land that Quanah grew in force and stature.
His ancestors moved south from the central plains of Eastern Colorado and Western Kansas, between the Platte and Arkansas rivers, to what we call the Llano Estacado, the staked plains. These fierce and proud Comanches soon gained the name “Lords of the Southern Plains.”
The Comanches first got their horses from the Spanish and Pueblo Indians. The horse quickly allowed the tribe to master their environment and became a symbol of wealth and prestige. They were the most skillful in their horsemanship, and grew vast herds for hunting, trading, and fighting. By the time Quanah was six years of age, he was more at ease on horse than on foot. His only clothing was a deerskin pouch worn from the waist. He named his horse Silver Moon and was soon riding faster and farther than boys much older in age.
As a young man, Quanah undertook a vision quest, a rite of passage for spiritual understanding and life direction. Alone, he traveled into the wilderness of the canyons for three days with only water to sustain him. He felt intensely aware of his surroundings, and drew closer to the celestial objects of sun and moon to shape his future. Coming from the canyons, he cleansed in the Brazos River, and rubbed his body with sage. As he inhaled the fragrance of the herb, he swelled with the sense of manhood in his life. The shaman met Quanah to interpret his vision. The young man spoke of words filling his mind that were not of his people. He revealed dreams of distant travel.
The Spanish and French held trade fairs in Taos and Santa Fe. Quanah was quick to learn their languages and became the trade spokesman for the tribe. The Comanche valued modesty, and would be soft spoken, but carried an underlying ferocity that set them apart. Quanah would dress in a deerskin shirt with leggings, wear colorful beaded moccasins, and necklaces of cowrie shells. He was a commanding and resolute figure that held the respect of others.
Music was central to the life of the Comanche, and from an early age Quanah would play the flute. Often in a late evening when the half-moon shone across the expansive grass, he would wander away from the teepees and play his flute to the spirit world above. With only his musical notes rising above the muffled silence of his surroundings, a vision of family filled his heart and mind.
The name Cholena means bird, and this beautiful young maiden always caught the eye of Quanah as they grew through the years. He selected one of his finest horses, and gave it to her family to signify his ability to care for her in marriage. She accepted his proposal, and her mother built their first teepee. Cholena wore her hair in two thick braids decorated with brilliant colored beads. She painted her deerskin shirt with signs and symbols that signified the position of her husband within the tribe.
Toh mua is the Comanche word for a year of moons, and it was at this time their son was born. He was given the name Nocona, meaning one who wanders. Following in the footsteps of his father, Nocona quickly became a skilled rider of the horse, and would travel with his father to the trade fairs. His sister Angeni soon followed, and Quanah’s heart overflowed with the blessings of his ancestors and of the celestial bodies that guided their life.
In 1781, a smallpox epidemic decimated the Comanche tribe and many perished. The blood Moon fell upon the teepee of Quanah and Cholena, and the spirit of their son rose to the heaven above. Quanah departed to the canyons of his youth carrying this deep feeling of loss. His flute spoke to the stars while his heart grappled with pain and loneliness. In his suffering, Quanah buried his flute and brought forth his bow and arrows.
From his youth, Quanah was trained to be an excellent archer. He could fire a rapid number of arrows with great accuracy while riding at a full gallop. He could lay down against the side of Silver Moon and shoot his arrows under the neck of the horse with the same marksmanship. The trader became the warrior. He quietly gathered clay, berries, and bark for the red war paint that would guard his soul and protect his horse.
The red paint glistened in the noonday sun as the medicine man chanted and blew smoke of sage leaves into the face of Quanah. Cholena trembled as she prostrated herself before her husband. A slow anguish touched her inner being and she was filled with a quiet sadness. As he rode away, the brilliant red bore the spiritual strength of his ancestors.
His band had lost a vast number of horses in previous years to the Spanish. Quanah and his people had declared war against the Kiowa tribe as a way to rebuild their herds. The battle was menacingly wild and fierce. Each respected the other’s bravery and fighting abilities. The crush of men and horses upon the red dust gave the illusion of shards of broken glass spilling across the earth. Quanah and his people were victorious in battle. He breathed deeply as he rode back to their camp. The jagged outline of the canyons to the north were highlighted by the silver moon, and he felt a grim and ironic pleasure in the two broken arrows that pierced his side.
Cholena cared for her husband and treated his wounds each day. A cool breeze entered the teepee and a warmth pushed against him as Angeni nestled by his side. The arrow shaman would come and place special arrows into the ground to guard his soul and scare away the disease. Quanah called for his flute to be unearthed, and requested that it be cleansed in the Brazos River.
As he played his flute, visions swam before him. He saw his people resplendent and touching lightly upon the land. He felt an overwhelming simplicity in his life now and in the hereafter, and he witnessed his spirit pass freely between these two worlds. His attention wandered to the image of his son Nocona, and a playfulness filled his mind as he extended a hand upward, grasping what lay before him. He summoned his wife and spoke with love as she gripped his arm.
It was evening as they walked toward the river. Angeni gathered the sage leaves her mother would rub against his body. He wore his finest cowrie shells and nothing more than the deerskin pouch at his waist. The blood moon looked down upon Quanah as he stepped into the water, his flute held high above his head. He breathed deeply as he willed his heart to cease.
RICHARD SWAIN