She died there, and the butterfly man she had lost went on through the valley to his home. And now when people speak of the olden times they say that this woman lost her lover, and tried to get others but lost them, and went crazy and died.
—Based on a tale reported by Roland Dixon in 1904.
[TIWA]
The Yellow House people were traveling. They stopped by a lake, and to reach the deep water they put down a buffalo head to step on. The chief’s wife, who was a good-looking woman, picked up her basket and went to fetch some water. When she came to the lake she looked at the head and said, “My father, what a handsome man you were! I would like to have seen you alive. What a pity you’re being trampled in this mud!”
As she finished speaking, up sprang a big white buffalo. He said, “I’m the man you speak of. I am White Buffalo Chief. I want to take you with me. Sit on my head between my horns!” She left her water basket right there, and climbed up.
The sun was going down, and the chief’s wife did not come home. “Something has happened” he said. “I should go and see.” When he got to the lake, he found the basket, and looking around, saw his wife’s track and the track of a big buffalo leading to the east. He said, “The buffalo head has taken my wife!” He went back to his camp and for many days made arrows. When he had enough, he set out to find his wife.
As he walked, he nearly stepped on the house of Spider Old Woman. She said, “Sho! sho! sho! My grandchild, don’t step on me! Grandchild, you are Apache-Chief-Living-Happily; what are you doing around here?”
“Grandmother, I am looking for my wife. Buffalo Chief took her away. Can you help me?”
“He is a powerful person, but I will give you medicine. Go now to Gopher Old Woman.”
He went along, and on the plain he came to Gopher’s house. Said Gopher Old Woman, “What are you doing around here? You are Apache-Chief-Living-Happily. Why are you here?”
“Yes, grandmother, I was living happily when my wife went to get water. Buffalo stole her. I am going after her, and I would like to ask you for help.”
Gopher Old Woman said, “My grandson, your wife now has as husband a powerful man. He is White Buffalo Chief. She is the tribe’s female in-law, and when they go to sleep, she is in the middle and they lie close around her. Her dress is trimmed with elk teeth, and it makes such a noise that it will be difficult to get her out. You go to the edge of where they lie, and I will do the rest.”
Apache Chief came to the buffalo territory and hid to watch them. White Buffalo Chief had the stolen wife dancing, and the buffalo sang:
Ya he a he
Ya he iya he
Ya he e ya
He ya hina he
Hina ye ne
He mah nel
The Apache crept near the dance and spat out the medicine Spider Old Woman had given, and all the buffalo went to sleep. Gopher Old Woman burrowed underground to the girl’s ear and said, “I have come for you. Apache-Chief-Living-Happily is waiting outside the herd.”
The girl said, “My present husband is a powerful man. My dress is made of elk teeth, and it makes such a noise that it will wake my husband.” Gopher told her to gather the dress up under her arms. Then Gopher led the way, and they slipped through the group of sleeping buffalo.
Her husband was waiting. “I have come for you,” he said, “You are my wife and I want to take you back.” And she told him they must hurry to a safe place.
The plain was large. As they came to three cottonwood trees, they could feel the earth trembling. White Buffalo had waked up and was shouting to his clan, “Someone took my wife!” The herd followed the track toward the trees.
Apache Chief said to the first cottonwood, “Brother, the buffalo are coming. I want you to hide us.” The tree said, “Go to your next brother! I am old and soft.” He went to the next tree. “Brother, the buffalo are coming. I want you to hide us!” The tree said, “Go to your next brother.” He went to the third tree, a young tree with one branch. “Apache Chief,” it said, “come up into my branches and I will help you.”
After they were safely up, the wife said she had to urinate. Apache Chief folded up his buffalo hide and told her to urinate on it, but her water leaked through. The buffalo were passing, the dust was rising, and the earth was trembling. In the rear of the pack were a shabby old buffalo and a small one. As they came under the tree, the little buffalo said, “Grandfather, I can smell the water of our daughter-in-law.” They looked up and saw the man and woman in the tree.
The old buffalo said, “Grandchild, you are fast. Run on and tell the first one you reach, and each will tell the next one.” Soon the whole herd had turned back. Each one in succession butted the tree, and Apache Chief tried to shoot them.
Then White Buffalo Chief took a running start and crashed against the tree. The young cottonwood was nearly down, and Apache Chief could not kill White Buffalo Chief.
Crow was calling above them, “Kaw, kaw kaw!”
Apache Chief said angrily to Crow, “Why are you calling out when I am in such a bad way?”
“I came to tell you to shoot him in the anus. That’s where his life is.” So the Apache shot White Buffalo Chief in the anus and killed him.
He and his wife came from the tree, and he started to butcher the buffalo beside a little fire. The tears ran down her cheek.
“Are you crying because I’m butchering White Buffalo?”
“No, I’m crying from the smoke.”
Apache Chief kept on butchering. He looked at her again and said, “You are crying!”
“No, it’s just the smoke.”
He stared at her. “You are crying! After all our trouble, you still want this man! Now you die with him! And he took his bow and arrow and shot her.
“I am Apache Chief, chief of a roaming tribe,” he said. “I will wander over these plains watching the earth, and if any woman leaves her husband, what I have done to my wife may be done to her.”
—Based on a tale recorded by Elsie Clews Parsons in 1940.
Like other tales told in pueblos near Taos, New Mexico, this Tiwa story features Apache characters. Taos, because of its proximity to the Plains area, had a close relation to the tribes of that region, and they have shared many elements in their culture, this story being one of them. The Yellow House people refer to people who settled toward the East, nearer the sun.
THE HUSBAND’S PROMISE
[TEWA]
This tale from San Juan Pueblo in New Mexico is a graceful variation on the same theme as “Deer Hunter and Corn Maiden.”
There lived in the village of San Juan a young man, Ca-peen, and a maiden, Willow Flower. These two were deeply in love, and on the day of their wedding they promised each other that as long as they were alive, they would never part.
The couple built a home on the edge of the village and lived happily together for three moons, until one day the lovely maiden became ill. The young husband did everything to help her get well, but instead she became worse, and in a short time she was dead.
The young husband was despondent. He could not understand why she had to go so soon, after she had promised that she would never leave him. When many moons had passed, however, he was learning to live with his grief. At night he did not have much to do and would usually visit his parents. One night as he was walking back across town to his own home, he noticed a light burning in the distance beyond the village. For several days he saw the light shining at the same spot around midnight, and it began to bother him. Even during the day as he worked, he would think about it.
One night he said to himself, “I must go to see this light and find out what it is.” It took him about an hour to reach the place, and much to his surprise he found a house there. Frightened, but curious to know who lived in it, he decided to peep through the window. He was astounded to see his lovely wife. She was standing by the fireplace combing her beautiful black hair, which came down to her knees.
Ca-peen said, “Aha, at last I have found her
! The light was kept burning for me to see. Why didn’t I come before? And I wonder where she is going, all dressed up!”
Now his wife finished combing her hair and was putting on her snow-white moccasins. “I must speak to her before she leaves,” said Ca-peen. Up the stairs he went. Standing in the only entrance to the house, he saw her poised to ascend the ladder that led to the rooftop.
“What are you doing here?” she said immediately. Before he could reply, she added, “You might as well come in.”
Ca-peen slowly descended the stairs. He told her how he had seen the light for a number of nights and decided to investigate. “If I had known you lived here,” he said, “I would have come sooner.”
“Well,” said Willow Flower, “you can’t stay any longer. You must go.”
“I don’t understand. What are you thinking? Remember the promise we made when we got married—that we would never part? And now that I’ve found you, I will stay.”
Angrily Willow Flower replied, “You can’t stay here. You do not belong with me, and until your time comes, you cannot be with me. Go, before it’s too late.”
Ca-peen insisted on staying, and this led to a long quarrel. At last Willow Flower said, “All right; you can stay for the night—provided that you are a man.”
“I am a man,” retorted Ca-peen.
“In that case, you will stay with me until the morning. And if you are still here then, I will go home with you to the village. Do you agree?”
“Yes, I agree,” said Ca-peen.
Willow Flower prepared a bed on the floor, and they both went to sleep.
About three o’clock in the morning, Ca-peen was awakened by a pungent odor that stung his nostrils. It was coming from the body of his wife. Soon Ca-peen could no longer tolerate the odor of rotten flesh. Slowly he got out of bed and put on his clothes.
He said to himself, “If I leave before she wakes, I will be free.”
Very quietly he went up the stairs. Just as he reached the last step, Willow Flower woke up and cried, “Come back, you coward! You have failed to keep your end of the bargain, and now you must pay the penalty.”
Ca-peen was not yet ready to join the people of death, so he jumped off the rooftop and ran toward home with all his might.
But Willow Flower was swift as the wind, and in no time she was out of the house and running after him.
As Ca-peen came to the Rio Grande he met the old medicine man from the village, who was on his way to the mountains in search of game. The old man said, “What’s wrong, my son? Are you running away from someone? You look as if something awful has happened to you.”
Ca-peen could hardly talk, but he finally managed to gasp, “I’m running away from Willow Flower.”
“So you are,” said the old medicine man. “You’ve never learned to mind your own business, and now this has happened to you.”
“Old Medicine Man, you must help me. You are a powerful one; send me where Willow Flower can’t catch me.”
The old man said, “There’s no place on earth that will hide you from Willow Flower. I’ll shoot you into the sky, which has plenty of room for you to run. Come, jump into the shaft of this special arrow.”
Ca-peen did as he was told. “Ca-peen, are you comfortable in there?”
“Yes, Old Man.”
“Get ready. Now I’m going to shoot you into the sky, where Willow Flower will never catch you.”
“Twang!” went the old medicine man’s bowstring, and off into the sky flew Ca-peen.
With Ca-peen on his way, the old medicine man returned to his own trail. A few minutes later he met Willow Flower.
“Good morning, my child,” said the medicine man. “Where are you going?”
“I am running after Ca-peen. Have you seen him?”
“Yes, I talked to him near the river a few minutes ago.”
“You are a powerful one; tell me where he is heading.”
“Ca-peen is now in the sky. If you want to catch him, that’s where you’ll have to go.”
“Please shoot me into the sky with your strong bow,” said Willow Flower. So the old medicine man put her into one of his special arrows and shot her to the sky.
To this day, Willow Flower is chasing Ca-peen. Tonight if the stars are out, just look to the west and you will see two bright ones about a foot apart. The first is Ca-peen, and the one behind is Willow Flower, chasing her husband.
—Told at San Juan Pueblo, New Mexico, in the early 1960s and translated from the Tewa by Alfonso Ortiz.
THE MAN WHO
MARRIED THE MOON
[ISLETA PUEBLO]
This story, prepared for a popular magazine at the turn of the century, blends Pueblo folklore with late-Victorian language and sensibilities. Corn maidens are both malevolent (as in this tale) and beneficent spirits who give themselves as food so that the people may live.
Long before the first Spaniards came to New Mexico, Isleta stood where it stands today—on a lava ridge that defies the gnawing current of the Rio Grande. In those far days, Nah-chu-rú-chu, “The Bluish Light of Dawn,” dwelt in Isleta, and was a leader of his people. A weaver by trade, his rude loom hung from the dark rafters of his room; and in it he wove the strong black mantas or robes like those which are the dress of Pueblo women to this day.
Besides being very wise in medicine, Nah-chu-rú-chu was young, and tall, and strong, and handsome. All the girls of the village thought it a shame that he did not care to take a wife. For him the shyest dimples played, for him the whitest teeth flashed out, as the owners passed him in the plaza; but he had no eyes for them. Then, in the custom of the Tiwa, bashful fingers worked wondrous fringed shirts of buckskin, or gay awl sheaths, which found their way to his house by unknown messengers.
But Nah-chu-rú-chu paid no more attention to the gifts than to the smiles, and just kept weaving and weaving—such mantas as were never seen in the land of the Tee-wahn before or since.
Two of his admirers were sisters who were called, in Tiwa language, Ee-eh-ch-chóo-ri-ch’áhm-nin—the Yellow Corn Maidens. They were both young and pretty, but they “had the evil road,” or were witches, possessed of a magic power which they always used for ill. When all the other girls gave up, discouraged at Nah-chu-rú-shu’s indifference, the Yellow Corn Maidens kept coming day after day, trying to win his notice. At last the matter became so annoying to Nah-chu-rú-chu that he hired the deep-voiced town crier to go through all the streets and announce that in four days Nah-chu-rú-chu would choose a wife.
For dippers to take water from the big earthen jars, the Tiwa used then, as they use to-day, queer little omates made of a gourd. But Nah-chu-rú-chu, being a great medicine man and very rich, had a dipper of pure pearl, shaped like the gourds, but wonderfully precious.
“On the fourth day,” proclaimed the crier, “Nah-chu-rú-chu will hang his pearl omate at his door, when every girl who will may throw a handful of cornmeal at it. And she whose meal is so well ground that it sticks to the omate, she shall be the wife of Nah-chu-rú-chu!”
When this strange news came rolling down the still evening air, there was a great scampering of little moccasined feet. The girls ran out from hundreds of gray adobe houses to catch every word; and when the crier had passed on, they ran back into the storerooms and began to ransack the corn bins for the biggest, evenest, and most perfect ears. Shelling the choicest, each took her few handfuls of kernels to the sloping metate, and with the mano, or hand stone, scrubbed the blue grist up and down and up and down till the hard corn was a soft blue meal. All the next day, and the next, and the next, they ground it over and over again, until it grew finer than ever flour was before; and every girl felt sure that her meal would stick to the omate of the handsome young weaver. The Yellow Corn Maidens worked hardest of all; day and night for four days they ground and ground, with all the magic spells they knew.
Now, in those far-off days the moon had not gone into the sky to live, but was a maiden of Isleta. And a very beautiful girl
she was, but blind of one eye. She had long admired Nah-chu-rú-chu, but was always too maidenly to try to attract his attention as the other girls had done; and at the time when the crier made his proclamation, she happened to be away at her father’s ranch. It was only upon the fourth day that she returned to town, and in a few moments the girls were to go with their meal to test it upon the magic dipper. The two Yellow Corn Maidens were just coming from their house as she passed, and they told her what was to be done. They were very confident of success, and hoped to pain her. They laughed derisively as she went running to her home.
By this time a long file of girls was coming to Nah-chu-rú-chu’s house, outside whose door hung the pearl omate. Each girl carried in her hand a little jar of meal. As they passed the door, one by one, each took from the jar a handful and threw it against the magic dipper. But each time the meal dropped to the ground, and left the pure pearl undimmed and radiant as ever.
At last came the Yellow Corn Maidens, who had waited to watch the failure of the others. As they came where they could see Nah-chu-rú-chu sitting at his loom, they called: “Ah! here we have the meal that will stick!” and each threw a handful at the omate. But it did not stick at all; and still from his seat Nah-chu-rú-chu could see, in the shell’s mirror-like surface, all that went on outside.
The Yellow Corn Maidens were very angry, and instead of passing on as the others had done, they stood there and kept throwing and throwing at the omate, which smiled back at them with undiminished luster.
AMERICAN INDIAN MYTHS AND LEGENDS Page 35
