Treasury of American Indian Tales

by Theodore Whitson Ressler

Great Hawk began thinking about Crooked Leg, one of the chieftains. He was the only member of the council of Comanche chieftains who was not happy that war had not come again.

Early in his youth Crooked Leg had fallen into the hands of the Kiowas and had been tortured badly. When his body was found being dragged by a Kiowa pony that had been turned loose, he had been beaten and twisted so badly that he lay close to death for many months. He had lived, but his leg had never healed straight. He always rose in pain and could never run again. Crooked Leg had stayed behind in the village during all later battles. His hate for the Kiowa had grown until he now thought about it all the time. At council meetings, he would always argue that the Comanches should once again take to the warpath against the Apaches and Kiowas. Each time he spoke, only a few council members would agree with him. So Crooked Leg was asked to be quiet while the council talked about tribal business. But the young bucks who thirsted for the taste of battle would carry his words through the village after each council meeting. For many days, the village would talk for war and against war. Soon the wise council members would win out, the bucks would quiet down, and Crooked Leg would be left to grumble in his tepee alone and forgotten for awhile.

Crooked Leg’s life had a lesson for Great Hawk. As he was returning to his tepee, he promised himself that he would not speak of hatred again to his son. He must not allow hatred to run his life as it had run Crooked Leg’s. If he did, even his friends might forget him and he would be of little use to anyone.

The following day promised little peace. Dawn brought a roaring storm that smashed at the Comanche village. The pounding rain had soon churned the ground into deep mud. Families remained indoors and fathers sat around their fires teaching sons how to make stout bows and straight arrows, knives, tomahawks, and other handmade tools a young brave needs to survive. Great Hawk used the time to talk to Little Turtle of the great powers of nature and peace and the Comanche people.

“As you grow,” he told Little Turtle, “remember to stay straight and true and do all things that are right, and you shall live a rich and happy life in our tribe. The Comanches have been favored greatly. We have lived in peace for the past three years and though it has been very dry, we have never been without water. Now the sky has opened and allowed the rains to fall so that we have water for our families and our horses. We have not suffered from great thirst since the great drought visited our land when we were last at war. After two years the supply of water was so small that our people were dying more from the great thirst than from the arrows of the enemy. Before long our chiefs sat down in council with our enemies to smoke the peace pipe. Now peace reigns over our people and they have plenty of food and water.”

Little Turtle had listened carefully while his father was speaking, then turned to his mother and said, “Mother, I am a very lucky boy to be a Comanche and to have such a wonderful family. I have a strong, wise, and kind father. You have cared for me as a baby and given me good food so that my bones would grow strong and straight. And I have two brothers of whom I am very proud.”

Blue Star smiled happily and began to make lunch. While the family was eating, the rain stopped. Soon the sun broke through the dark clouds and began to dry the earth. In the middle of the afternoon, Great Hawk rose and touched his son upon the shoulder.

“Come, Little Turtle,” he said. “It is time you learned to ride a horse. We will go to my string of ponies and pick one that you may ride and call your own. If you are to go on the hunt and take part in the many other riding events in the village, you must learn to ride well.”

Little Turtle’s heart leaped excitedly. He had been looking forward to the day his father would teach him to ride. Slowly Great Hawk and his son walked to where the tribe’s ponies were kept tied. Great Hawk began to look amongst the herd for a special pinto pony he had planned to give Little Turtle. It was small but strong and could run for a long time without getting winded. Great Hawk saw quickly that something was wrong. He began counting and discovered that three of his string, including the pinto, were gone. At first he thought that the storm had frightened them and they had broken loose from the main line which held the whole string. But as he reached the main line where the three ponies should have been tied, he saw the dangling ends of ropes that had been cut by a knife.

The pony guard must have left the herd to seek shelter during the storm. So it was easy for someone to steal his three ponies. Without thinking of Little Turtle, Great Hawk knelt in the mud to look closely at the clear tracks that the thieves had left. He rose to his feet quickly.