"Thus ends the sad story of a woman whose stormy life, darkened by an eternal shadow, made her far-famed throughout the borders of the imperial Lone Star State.
"Cynthia Anne's son has been for some years the popular hereditary chief of the once powerful confederacy of Comanche Indians, which, though greatly decimated by war and the enervating influences of semi-civilization, is still one of the most numerous tribes in the United States. He is intelligent and wealthy; in personal appearance he is tall, muscular and graceful in his movements; is a friend of the white man, and rules his tribe with firmness, moderation and wisdom. He is located on his picturesque reservation in Oklahoma, not many miles distant from the city of Quanah, so named in his honor.
"A few years since I met the chief in Wichita Falls, and when informed that I had personally known his pale-faced mother, Cynthia Anne, or Prelock—as she was called by the Indians—he had a thousand questions to ask about her personal appearance, size, shape, form, height, weight, color of hair and eyes, etc. He gave me a cordial invitation to visit him at his 'tepee,' or wigwam, near Fort Sill, profusely promising all the fish, game, ponies and squaws I desired."
General Alford's statement that Quanah is the hereditary chief is incorrect. It is true he is the son of Chief Peta Nocona, but it by no means follows that the son of a chief will succeed to the chieftaincy, by "divine right" of inheritance. The son of a common warrior, if he possesses the elements of leadership, force of character, eloquence in council, and general ability, will stand a much better show of becoming a chief, than the son of a chief lacking in these essentials.
Fortunately we know how Quanah Parker became chief; he told part of his story to the author of this book and the entire account to E. E. White, the special Indian Agent. As the story is very romantic and interesting we will give it in full.
Said Mr. White: "By the death of his father and the recapture of his mother, Quanah was left an orphan at an age which could not have been more than twelve years. The same disaster that reduced him to orphanage also made him a pauper. Although the son of a deceased chief, now having no parents, no home and no fortune, he became, not the ruler of his tribe, but a waif of the camp. But being self-reliant, an expert archer, a successful hunter for one of his age, good natured and intelligent, he made friends, among the boys of the tribe at least, and found whereon to lay his head, and plenty to eat and wear. And while orphanage and poverty entailed sorrow and suffering upon the young savage, it was happily contrary to nature for those sad misfortunes to divest him of the 'divine right' to love and be loved. And although he was half a savage by blood and a complete one by habit and association, abundant proof that he was not devoid of the finer instincts of humanity is found in the ardent and constant love which he has always borne for his first wife, Weckeah, and the strong and undying affection and sympathy that he has always exhibited for his most unhappy mother. It is said that his first question upon surrendering the tribe to General MacKenzie, in 1876, was concerning her, and that his first request was for permission to go to see her, her death not then being known either to himself or the general.
"Proof of his captive mother's love for him, and the sentiment of her nature, are shown in the name she bestowed upon him, its meaning in the Comanche language being fragrance. I was one day on the prairie with a large party of Comanches. We stopped at a spring for water, and the chiefs, Tabannaka and White Wolf, the Jonathan and David of the tribe, walked down the branch a short distance and gathered a large handful of wild mint. Holding it to my nose, White Wolf said, 'Quanah, quanah. You take it.' I said, 'Sweet smell; is that quanah?' They replied: 'Yes; quanah—heap good smell.' Then plucking a bunch of wild flowers they inhaled their fragrance to show me what they meant, and then handing them to me said, 'Quanah—quanah—heap quanah—good smell.'
"Quanah's best friend and most constant playmate in his orphanage was Weckeah, Chief Yellow Bear's daughter. They rode her father's ponies to the water holes, played through the camps together, and were inseparable. He shot antelope and other game for her amusement, and she learned to bead his moccasins and ornament his bow quiver.
"The years went by and Quanah and Weckeah were no longer papooses. They were in the very bloom of young manhood and womanhood, and each in form and feature without flaw or blemish. But they did not know that they loved each other.
"There were other young men in the village, however, and one day one of them, gaudily painted and bedecked with beads and small mirrors, came near Yellow Bear's tepee, blowing his reed flutes. Three days later he came again, and nearer than before. Only two days passed until he came the third time. Spreading his blanket on the grass in front of Yellow Bear's tepee, and seating himself on it, he looked straight at the doorway and played softly all the love songs of the tribe. Weckeah showed not her face to the wooer. Her heart was throbbing violently with a sensation that had never thrilled her before, but it was not responsive to the notes of the flutes.