by Dee Brown
“I awakened Prissie and Aunt Suna-lee and then went outside and saddled the pinto. Where the pony took me I did not care. I wanted only to be in motion across the earth, seeking something, I did not know what. Upon reaching the Illinois River bottoms, I turned into deep woods, riding and riding until darkness came. How long I stayed in the forest I don’t know, two or three days maybe, grieving. Not until a heavy rain drenched me, not until I took off my shirt to dry it and saw the Danish coin against my chest did I come to my senses.
“The next morning I rode into Aunt Suna-lee’s yard but found no one in the house and so went on up to the crossroads, which had become a cluster of buildings—a new church bearing a thin coat of whitewash, three or four dwellings, the trading post, and the smithy. Mr. Tim Rogers and Bibbs were working under the shed, but I was then in no mood to talk with them, and they were too busy to notice me. Gathered around the church were several mule-drawn buggies and wagons, and I could hear the high voice of a preacher man echoing from the windows.
“Beyond the church was the new burying ground, with several mounds of upturned raw earth. I dismounted and found Grandmother Mary’s grave, the marker a solid block of cedar with letters burned into it with a smith’s iron: AKUSA AMAYI. I was pleased that Jotham had marked it that way instead of ‘Creek Mary.’ I would tell him so, I thought, trying to hold back my tears. And then from the full-leafed woods came a sweet scent of wild blossoms and such a burst of birdsong as would have made my grandmother cry out her joy in being alive. My tears flowed until I thought I could hear her laughing at me in that deep husky way of hers, and I wondered how she felt about sleeping forever in the burying ground of a Unega church. Noticing some yellow flowers, growing in the shade of the woods, I went and picked them. When I kneeled to place them beside the marker, the Danish coin pressed cool against my chest as if she was touching me gently in farewell.
“I heard my name called then, and turned to face Jerusha. Behind her the buggies and wagons were wheeling away from the church grounds. Skipping toward us over the graves was a little boy, Pleasant, my son, taller and skinnier than I remembered him.
“Jerusha brushed loose strands of her blonde hair away from her face, waiting for me to speak, but I could say nothing.
“ ‘Your grandmother befriended me,’ Jerusha said, ‘more than anyone else. But she loved you most of all.’
“ ‘She would not have seen us wed,’ I said. ‘How could you not hate her?’
“ ‘You would have wed me if you truly loved me,’ she replied. ‘I knew you were forever lost to me when you did not return from Independence with Jotham.’ Her lips trembling, she looked away from me, and then stammered out: ‘I—I had to find—a father for Pleasant.’
“The boy had moved closer to her side, standing with his thin bare legs wide apart, examining me with some faint recognition from the past. His face had changed. I could see my nose and chin and ears forming out of his immature countenance. ‘Do you know the pledge?’ he asked me in a grave voice that was high and thin like his mother’s.
Jerusha smiled. ‘We’ve been to Reverend Crookes’s morning temperance meeting,’ she explained, ‘where everyone repeats the pledge.’
“ ‘Your husband?’
“She nodded, and Pleasant recited by rote: ‘Do you solemnly pledge yourself to never use nor buy nor sell nor give nor receive as a drink any whiskey, brandy, rum, gin, wine, fermented cider, strong beer, or intoxicating liquor?’
“I could not keep from laughing, but a time would come when I would remember those childish words with sadness. I wanted to step forward, lift my half-blood son up in my arms and praise him, but a white man in a black suit was approaching us from the church. ‘Is he the Reverend Crookes?’ I asked.
“ ‘He’s been good to me and Pleasant,’ she said, and then her lips barely moved as she whispered: ‘But I can never love him as I’ve loved you, Dane.’
“The Reverend Thomas Crookes looked to be a man who ate well and often, and was used to having his way. He was plump of face and figure, his mouth covered by a growth of sandy mustache badly in need of trimming. As he came nearer, his glance shifted back and forth from Pleasant to me.
“ ‘You’re the boy’s father,’ he declared accusingly. ‘You could not deny that.’ His tone was such that I knew he viewed me as an agent of his Devil, if not the Devil himself. He came no closer than Jerusha, and did not offer his hand.
“He looked at Grandmother Mary’s grave. ‘I preached for her funeral,’ he said with a note of self-importance. ‘Although she died a heathen, refusing to be baptized and cleansed of her sins.’
“ ‘She believed in Esaugetuh Emissee, the Maker of Breath,’ I said, and started toward the pinto. Crookes fell into step beside me, with Jerusha and Pleasant trailing along behind. ‘I love a sinner,’ he began almost cheerfully. ‘Especially the heathen. By following your pagan gods you wronged this good woman who is now my wife, in the eyes of the true God.’
“What could I say to him? Words would have changed nothing. So I said nothing. But he went on with his sermon, his words pouring out in a flood. ‘Full-bloods such as you,’ he said, ‘are the most difficult. Those hereabouts are a most degraded company of savages, but the day will come when with the help of God my hard-fought battles against sin, the world, and the Devil will bring victory. My martyrlike spirit will conquer the difficulties of bringing the Cherokees to civilization and religion.’
“ ‘We tried your civilization and your religion in our eastern homeland,’ I finally said, ‘but your Christian brothers drove thousands of us from our homes to our deaths. Take care of my son, Mr. Crookes.’ I turned and bowed my good-byes to Jerusha and Pleasant, feeling sorry for them, but there was nothing I could do for them, so I mounted my pony and rode across to the trading post to see Jotham.
“Jotham had changed, too, but not as much as the others. We talked of the old days, laughing over the joyful incidents, brushing aside the sad ones. He was happy living with Griffa, who was already expecting a child, and so I did not remind him of Saviah Manning and her charge that he had lied to her.
“During the next two or three days I saw most of my old friends and acquaintances. They told me of their hopes and fears for the new Cherokee Nation, as well as giving me news from afar. Sequoyah was somewhere in Mexico, searching for a band of ‘lost’ Cherokees who wandered west during the War of the Revolution, and I wondered if our paths might have crossed while I was traveling with Mr. Lykins’s wagon trains. I was much surprised to learn that several hundred Cherokees had escaped capture by General Scott’s soldiers and were still living in strongholds in the Smoky Mountains. For a day or so I thought of going back east to join them, but they were from the upper regions of the old Nation, far more alien to me than the recent friends I had made among the Cheyennes of the Plains.
“Indeed my thoughts constantly returned to Big Star’s happy wanderers, to Yellow Hawk and the buffalo hunters, to Sweet Medicine Girl. Dared I return to them? Abandon my kin and clan and tribe to become a Cheyenne? Well, I thought, if my grandmother had the courage to follow her heart away from her people to become a Cherokee, then surely I could follow her example. Creek Mary’s blood would uphold me.
“When Jotham announced one day that he and Bibbs would soon be going to Independence to buy goods for the trading post, I told him I would accompany him, but that he should still take Bibbs along because I would not be returning to the Nation.
“He was distressed. ‘The Nation needs you, Dane,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you stay? You are entitled to land. You could become a farmer, live well, settle down as I have done.’
“I tried to explain my feelings, my restlessness, but I don’t think he understood that whatever comes easily to us we turn away from, but that which slips away from us we will pursue to the ends of the earth.
“When we reached Independence, I used most of the money Mr. Lykins had paid me to buy a rifle and a pistol. I was disappointed to learn that he was in M
exico, but Mr. Louis Tessier, the Frenchman who supplied Jotham and William, found me a place with a wagon train going to Bent’s Fort. Late in that summer, after a long search, I found Big Star’s people camped far to the northeast of Bent’s Fort along a stream called Sand Creek.”
Dane lifted the smoke-blackened coffeepot from the fireplace and refilled my cup. “So now you’ve heard Creek Mary’s story,” he said.
“Not entirely,” I answered. “You’ve just told me of your assuredness that her blood would sustain you in your decision to become a Cheyenne. Through you and your children and grandchildren she lived on.”
A brightening of his eyes, a smile forming on his thin lips, told me that he was pleased by what I had said. He was about to reply when the rattle of wheels against ruts made him turn to glance out the window. “That Crow boy again,” he said. “This time driving his old man’s wagon. Wonder what he wants now?” He went to the door, opened it, and stepped outside, waiting for the wagon to turn in. “Hi, Dane,” the young driver called out. “Old Red Bird Woman sent you some lodgepoles. Where you want ’em?”
“Goddamn,” Dane said. “I thought she was only fooling me with her talk. How many poles did she send?”
“Sixteen or seventeen maybe.”
“Damn! That’s enough for a big tipi. Reckon you better put them in the corral shed.”
“Sure.” The young man started the wagon down toward the rusted sheet-iron shed, Dane following.
I went out to watch, feeling the sun combating the chill air around me until they returned. This time Dane introduced me to John Bear-in-the-Water, but the Crow youth’s eyes were still suspicious of my presence there. He started the wagon, but stopped again before we were through the cabin door. “Hey, Dane,” he called. “When’s Amayi coming back?”
“Soon,” Dane shouted back at him. “Soon, I hope.”
After we were inside he dropped into his chair, shaking his head and groaning. “Red Bird Woman wants to make a tipi with buffalo hides. Says she and I must die together in a tipi.”
“Red Bird Woman?” I repeated. “Is she the same—”
“Yes, she’s the Red Bird from the days of my hot-blood youth. She’s a coyote like me, hard to kill.” He squinted at a beam of sunlight streaming through the window. “I guess you might say Red Bird Woman always has been a kind of guardian spirit for me, a luck-bringer. She was the first one who saw me coming back to join the Cheyennes in their camp on Sand Creek. I had put that horse bell given me by Sweet Medicine Girl around the pinto’s neck, and she recognized the sound. By the time I crossed the shallow stream, she had Sweet Medicine Girl there to greet me. I dropped off the pony and it was all I could do to keep from putting my arms around that shy little girl. For the first time in my life I knew I was where I wanted to be.
“Well, that evening when her brother, Yellow Hawk, came in with the buffalo hunters, I took him aside and told him I wanted to be a Cheyenne and that I desired his sister for my wife. Whatever deeds I must perform, whatever ordeals I must endure, I would do so with a good heart.
“We talked for a long time, and it was soon clear to me that I must accomplish three things. First I must obtain Sweet Medicine Girl’s consent to be my wife by courting her in the Cheyenne way. Then I must become a member of one of the soldier societies in order to be worthy of a chief’s daughter. And then I must make a present of several horses to her father, Big Star, before he would give his daughter to me in marriage.
“Without the willing help of Yellow Hawk my road would have been even more difficult than it was. My first obstacle was Magpie Eagle, a year or two younger than I, who had set his heart on winning Sweet Medicine Girl. On buffalo hunts I had admired Magpie Eagle’s skill and daring, but I resented his boldness as a courting rival. At the dances he wore colored ribbons in his hair, bright porcelain beads around his neck, and wolf tails fastened to his knees. He found ways to draw Sweet Medicine Girl away from the circles, and I would see them in the shadows with his blanket over both their heads while they stood very close together. This was not an unusual custom among the young couples, but it seemed strange to a young Cherokee, I can tell you. At first, I could not bring myself to try blanket wooing, nor was it much easier for me to pay court by playing on a bone whistle. Magpie Eagle was very good at this, and in the evenings he would stand outside Sweet Medicine Girl’s tipi, playing the same notes over and over.
“Because I was a suitor for Big Star’s daughter, I could no longer sleep in the chief’s tipi, but used a bed in the tipi of an old man named Whistling Elk. He became interested in my courtship and presented me with a bird-bone whistle with which he said he had won his deceased wife. Whistling Elk taught me how to play the shrill little instrument. ‘You must work up a tune of your own,’ he advised me, ‘so she will recognize your presence in the dark.’ After several evenings of practice, I gathered my courage and went over to the front of her tipi about dusk and played my tune. Magpie Eagle soon joined me, playing so expertly that I felt humiliated. I could see Sweet Medicine Girl standing inside the open flap, smiling at us, and I wondered if my serenade sounded as foolish to her as it did to me.
“Not long after that, Red Bird Woman visited me one morning and said the time had come to press my courting. ‘It is known to me,’ she said, ‘that Magpie Eagle has given Sweet Medicine Girl several rings, but she has not yet worn any of them.’ She took a bracelet from her wrist, a silver band with two grizzly-bear claws mounted on it. ‘Give Sweet Medicine Girl this bracelet,’ she said, ‘and watch to see if she wears it. If she does, you need not fear Magpie Eagle as a rival any longer.’ After I thanked her, she told me that Lean Bear had given her the bracelet when he was courting her and that she had worn it for him. ‘It has magic power,’ she assured me.
“ ‘What will Lean Bear say when he finds you have given me this bracelet?’ I asked.
“ ‘It was he who counseled me to bring it to you,’ she replied, laughing at my misgivings. ‘Lean Bear says Magpie Eagle is not good enough for his cousin Sweet Medicine Girl.’
“At the next dance I found a chance to slip the bracelet into Sweet Medicine Girl’s hand. She said nothing, her eyes turning shyly away when I tried to read her feelings for me and the gift, and I feared that the bracelet’s magic had failed me.
“On the following evening, when I went to her tipi to play the bird-bone whistle, she came outside, lifting her arm so that I could see the bracelet on her wrist. I stopped playing at once, my heart beating like a soaring bird’s, and walked over to her, lifting my serape and boldly enclosing both of us under it. She was perfumed with the fragrance of sweet grass and white sage. ‘Why did you wait so long?’ she whispered. I told her I was thick-witted and had little knowledge yet of Cheyenne customs. I promised her that if she would wait for me that I would perform such superhuman deeds that all the soldier societies would invite me to join them and that I would bring a herd of the finest horses to her father’s tipi.
“She promised to wait, no matter how many moons must pass before I accomplished these tasks. Her fingers found Creek Mary’s Danish coin that I always wore around my neck. ‘This is your power?’ she asked.
“ ‘It is great magic,’ I said. ‘The day you become my wife it will be yours. It is very old and has been kept for you.’
“With the coming of the Dry Grass Moon, Big Star’s people started north for the Ghost Timbers to make winter camp, and Lean Bear’s Dog Soldiers accompanied us as rear guard for the column. Along the way, Yellow Hawk told me that his society, the Fox Soldiers, was planning an autumn raid against the Crows or Shoshones to replenish pony herds. At one of their night meetings, Yellow Hawk proposed my name as his guest for the raid, but Magpie Eagle objected. However, the society’s leader, War Shirt, overruled Magpie Eagle, and I was given permission to go on the raid. ‘Watch out for Magpie Eagle,’ Yellow Hawk warned me. ‘He is still jealous of you for winning my sister.’
“After camp was made at the Ghost Timbers, the Fox Sold
iers spent four days preparing for the long raid north. I went through all their rituals—dancing, singing, and praying to the Great Medicine. We cleaned our guns and sharpened our knives and arrow points. In order to obtain a bow and arrows and a red breechclout such as the others wore, I traded my pistol to old Whistling Elk. He also gave me a medicine pouch containing seven magical herbs and an eagle foot. I did not have the heart to tell him that Creek Mary’s gorget provided me with all the protection I needed, so I wore the pouch anyway.
“Early one morning about thirty of us set out for Shoshone and Crow country, War Shirt leading us over a roundabout route through coulees and behind screens of willows and cottonwoods so as to keep our presence unknown to any hunting or war parties of the enemy. Every night we camped in thickets, building no fires, eating only a little of our pemmican and dried berry cakes.
“One day the forward scouts, coming upon the scene of a recent buffalo kill, found an arrow in some high grass. Because the shaft was thicker and heavier than our arrow shafts they knew the hunters had been Crows. War Shirt at once sent out his best four trackers, keeping the remainder of us hidden in a deep gulch. After a short time the trackers returned to tell us that the Crows were camped across a river ford with an unusually large horse herd. Some of the animals still had Sioux designs painted on their flanks and must have been recently stolen. The camp was a temporary one, of about sixty Crow warriors and their women and children, and from what the scouts could see of it, they appeared to be preparing to move the next day.
“About dusk we all moved closer to the river, and after War Shirt made a reconnaissance of the camp, he proposed a plan. The Crows were very careless, he said, and a good part of their horse herd was corralled along the opposite bank with no guard set. He asked for ten volunteers to cross the river downstream and make a mock attack on foot just as day was breaking so as to draw the Crow warriors away from their corral.
