Blogtober 2020 Day 15 Entry
The boys were given a small tent to share on the edge of the village. They awoke the next day to find Osage clothing provided, leather trousers with a cotton shirt and a leather vest, plus moccasins to replace their tattered shoes.
Meadow met them as they emerged and guided them to a common table where fruits, nuts, and a hot porridge of local grains were offered as breakfast. Phin thought it was the finest meal that he could remember.
They were assigned to a group of younger children and directed to a large field of flowers. Each flower had a thick stem capped with a red, fuzzy center and broad, pinkish-purple petals.
“What are these?” Murphy asked.
“Coneflowers,” Meadow said. “My father is what you would call a doctor. He uses these flowers as medicine.”
They spent the morning cutting the heads of the flowers off with sharp stone knives, and then after lunch, they sat in a circle with the other children picking of the petals and putting them in a basket.
The children were fascinated with the new boys, as the only other white person they knew was Meadow, who was one of their own. Murphy tried to learn some language skills by pointing at his features—eye, ear, nose, mouth—naming them in English, then asking one of the others to say it in Osage.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to understand the lingo,” Phin said.
“I’ll help you,” Murphy said. “We can do it.”
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