This is a story from the Comanche. It varies somewhat from the versions that are popularized in children's story books. (It is doubtful that a doll owned by a Comanche girl before the coming of the whites would have worn a bonnet that looked like those of the white settler women.) However this version is much closer to the one I heard growing up.

Long ago before the time of the "whiteman" a people known as the Numunuh (Comanche) lived in a land now called Texas. During a time of great drought and famine, there lived among them a girl called She-Who-Is-Alone, who was called that because her family had died during the hard times. This time was so hard that very many of The People had died.

The people held a great dance to ask creator for help. They sang songs of prayer that said "Great Spirit the land is dying. Your People are dying too. Tell us what we have done to anger you. End this drought. Save your People. Tell us what we must do so you will send the rain that will bring back life."

For three days, the dancers danced to the sound of the drums, and for three days, the People called Numuhnuh watched and waited. And even though the hard winter was over, no healing rains came.

Drought and famine are hardest on the very young and the very old. Most of the young children had died during the famine. Among the few children left was the very small girl named She-Who-Is-Alone. She sat by herself watching the dancers. In her lap was a doll made for her by her grandmother. Her grandmother had made the doll not long before she died. The doll was made from buckskin and was dressed as a warrior doll. The eyes, nose and mouth were painted on with the juice of berries. It wore leggings and a shirt with beautiful quillwork and a belt of polished bone. On its head were brilliant blue feathers from the bird who cries "Jay-jay-jay." She loved her doll very much and it was the only thing she had left of her family.

She-Who-Is-Alone talked to her doll, since it was the only family she had left. "Soon the shaman will go off alone to the top of the hill to listen for the words of the Great Spirit. Then, we will know what to do so that once more the rains will come and the Earth will be green and alive. The buffalo will be plentiful and the People will be rich again."

As she talked, she thought of the grandmother who made the doll, of the father who brought the blue feathers and gave them to her for the doll. She thought of her mother who had made the delicate quillwork decorations. They were all like shadows. It seemed long ago that they had died from the famine. The People had named her and cared for her, but she was still very lonely. The warrior doll was the only thing she had left from those distant days.

"The sun is setting," the runner called as he ran through the camp. "The shaman is returning." The People gathered in a circle and the shaman spoke.

"I have heard the words of the Great Spirit," he said. "The People have become selfish. For years, they have taken from the Earth without giving anything back. The Great Spirit says the People must sacrifice. We must make a burnt offering of the most valued possession among us. The ashes of this offering shall then be scattered to the four points of the Earth, the Home of the Winds. When this sacrifice is made, drought and famine will cease. Life will be restored to the Earth and to the People!" The People sang a song of thanks to the Great Spirit for telling them what they must do.

"I'm sure it is not my new bow that the Great Spirit wants," a warrior said. "Or my special blanket," a woman added, as everyone went to their tipis to talk and think over what Great Spirit had asked.

Everyone, that is, except She-Who-Is-Alone. She held her doll tightly to her heart. "You," she said, looking at the doll. "You are my most valued possession and mean everything to me. It is you the Great Spirit wants." And she knew what she must do.

As the council fires died out and the tipi flaps began to close, the small girl returned to the tipi, where she slept, to wait.

The night outside was still except for the distant sound of the night bird with the red wings. Soon everyone in the tipi was asleep, except She-Who-Is-Alone. Under the ashes of the tipi one fire stick still glowed. She took it and quietly crept out into the night.

She ran to the place on the hill where the Great Spirit had spoken to the shaman. Stars filled the sky, but there was no moon. "O Great Spirit," She-Who-Is-Alone said, "here is my warrior doll. It is the only thing I have from my family who died in this famine. It is my most valued possession. Please accept it."

Then, gathering twigs, she started a fire with the glowing firestick. The small girl watched as the twigs began to catch and burn. She thought of her grandmother and grandfather, her mother and father and all the People -- their suffering, their hunger. She thought of all the other little children who had died from the great hunger. And before she could change her mind, she thrust the doll into the fire.

She watched until the flames died down and the ashes had grown cold. Then, scooping up a handful, She-Who-Is-Alone scattered the ashes to the Home of the Winds, the East, the South, the West and the North. And there she fell asleep until the first light of the morning sun woke her.

She looked out over the hill, and stretching out from all sides, where the ashes had fallen, the ground was covered with flowers -- beautiful flowers, as blue as the feathers in the hair of the doll, as blue as the feathers of the bird who cries "Jay-jay-jay."

When the People came out of their tipis, they could scarcely believe their eyes. They gathered on the hill with She-Who-Is-Alone to look at the miraculous sight. There was no doubt about it, the flowers were a sign of forgiveness from the Great Spirit.

The People sang and danced their thanks to the Great Spirit, and as they sang and danced, a warm rain began to fall and the land began to live again. From that day on, the little girl was know by another name -- "One-Who-Dearly-Loves-Her-People."

And every spring, the Great Spirit remembers the sacrifice of a little girl and fills the hills and valleys of the land, now called Texas, with the beautiful blue flowers.

Even to this very day!