“But who? If you accept the gifts, you—you must know who left them,” stammered Sacajawea.9
“My brother left them and you already accepted,” hooted Spring. “So, take his revered white horse to join the herd of your father, Pronghorn. And remember—it was you who called yourself stupid, not one of us.” Spring was bent double with giggles.
The whole lodge, except Sacajawea, were holding their sides, convulsed with laughter.
Sacajawea felt like a buck deer with its antlers caught in the brush. “Jerk Meat is away. How will he know I put his horse with our father’s herd?”
Big Badger put his knotted, arthritic hand over the catch in his side, then straightened and wiped his eyes. “I have not had so much fun since I stole that Apache’shorse while he relieved himself behind a tall cactus. He probably believes to this day that some night spirit made that horse invisible. Tee-hee! My grandson asked me to be his go-between on the day he gathered orangewood sticks for arrows and forgot to bring the sticks back when he returned. Woogh! Would you like to tell us about that day, Granddaughter?”
Sacajawea’s face was flushed. She shook her head. She knew there were few secrets kept in any village, but she wondered how much Big Badger knew for sure.
“You are my family, now,” said Sacajawea shyly. “I like all of you and it is known the one that is not here is special to me. So, then, when did Jerk Meat say he would be back?”
“He gave Spring and me time to make a marriage tepee,” said Hides Well, thumping the pile of hides with her butcher knife.
“I would like to make a fresh tunic, if there are skins enough,” said Sacajawea on impulse.
“Ai, take your skins from the pack that was on the white horse,” said Big Badger. “Looks like my grandson thought you’d say those exact words. And so, if I’m not being overly bossy as a go-between, get that white horse into Pronghorn’s herd. It’s no secret that it is something he has wanted to own ever since Jerk Meat brought it in from that raid beyond the Brazos River.”
“Ai, Grandfather,” said Sacajawea. “The white horse will be cared for.”
“Looks like you will be cared for also,” said Pronghorn, pointing to Hides Well and Spring, who were already laying out the hides to be used as the marriage tepee cover.
Jerk Meat was with two companions who knew of a place on the plains where many young ponies were driven out of a large herd each year by the old stallions. Each man took a string of eight to twelve gentle mares with them as bait. These young wild ponies sniffed the mares, milled around in their vicinity, and in a few days some were ambushed at the closest water hole. They fed out on the prairie, but when the mares were hot and thirsty the ponies followed them to water, evena dozen miles away. The men easily took the mustangs when their rock-hard bellies were full of water.
Jerk Meat and his friends spent the next couple of days breaking the wild horses. They lassoed a pony, threw it to the ground, and blew into its nostrils. This ritual made the mustang the blower’s property. The hairs around the mustang’s eyes were pulled by two hand-held sharp stones. Then each pony had a loop of rawhide rope brought up under its jaw and tied around its neck. The end of the rope was tied to the neck rope of one of the mares so that it would not escape when it recovered from overguzzling water and charged with lowered head, or bucked. During this time the owner talked with a calm voice, loaded it with a heavy pack and in about two days set it free. It usually followed the mare around. Then the mustangs were driven into the water hole before the men mounted any one of them. Riding in deep water eased most of the bucking and was easier on the men if they fell off.10
Jerk Meat returned to camp at the end of a week with one new mustang for each of his twelve mares. His two companions were equally lucky, and each spoke of the future father-in-law who one day might receive a couple of the best ponies from their herd. One asked, “Jerk Meat, what will you do with your mustangs? Save them for meat during cold weather. Your new sister, she must eat much. We’ve seen she is no infant, but full-grown.”
“I thought of something like that,” said Jerk Meat, who knew well enough what he was about to do, but didn’t want to let the squirrel out of the bag, in a manner of speaking, until the water was boiling or the deed was done.
Jerk Meat’s friends drove their horses out to their family herds, but Jerk Meat gave a wave with one hand and drove twenty-four horses right down the center of the village, past the tepee of Kicking Horse and on to his own father’s large lodge. Quickly he tied each mustang to a mare and let the rope to the mare’s hackamore trail on the hard-packed red earth.
Big Badger was out first to check on the commotion. He waved to Jerk Meat and indicated everything was going the way they had planned. Big Badger was careful how he walked among the milling horses. “I’m going to announce the marriage myself,” he said with pride. Lost Woman took your prized white horse to Prong-horn’s herd and was as nervous as a bat in a high wind waiting for your return. You made a good choice. Everyone likes her. She is a cheerful worker. But, maybe you have overdone the gift giving. No one has ever given two sets of presents, and I’ve never seen a whole herd of horses driven through the village and set before a lodge in my whole life. You might be starting something. Lost Woman might get a swelled head when she sees all this.” He waved both hands around, pointing at the horses.
“Grandfather! You know we planned this. You are my go-between.”
“Grandson, you smell like horse. As your go-between, I suggest you soak in the creek while waiting to see what Lost Woman does.”
“Ai—get me clean leggings, quick!”
Big Badger ducked inside the lodge after a careful walk through the restless herd. He tried to avoid stepping into the fresh dung.
Then, tossing a change of clothing to Jerk Meat, he called, “Run! Everyone inside is coming outside. Their curiosity is worse than the antelopes’.”
Jerk Meat swung his leg over his pinto and dashed for the bathing creek. He rode so hard that he did not hear laughing, nor the slap of the stiff hides of tepee flaps banging shut. Everyone had heard him bring the herd of horses into the village and they watched him, but they would not be caught staring.
Spring and Hides Well followed Big Badger outside. They could not believe what they saw.
“Our lodge area will smell worse than a swine wallow, with all that fresh dung,” laughed Hides Well. “My son has lost his mind.”
Sacajawea came out with Pronghorn. They wandered among the horses examining them.
“Now who is asking for a woman?” asked Sacajawea.
“You know this is not for me,” said Spring. “I confided to you six days ago that there is no one in camp that interests me.”
“Well,” sniffed Hides Well, “it certainly is not for me. I have a man. But he was never this generous.”
Finally catching on, Sacajawea shouted, “You mean Jerk Meat is back? Where is he? I must see him. Oh, so—an ordinary thank-you will hardly be enough. What can I do?” Suddenly tears were running down her face and she couldn’t talk. She looked from one to the other and whispered, “I am a woman who has once had a man. I am not worthy.” The tears came in torrents.
Spring was at her side. “We have put some planning into this marriage celebration. We think you are plenty worth it.”
“I can never live up to your high expectations. I must leave before it is too late for any courteous action.” She cried harder and made sniffling sounds. She realized she didn’t really want to leave.
Big Badger put his rough hand on her shoulder. “Granddaughter, you and Spring talk this over while you take this herd of miserable mustangs out to pasture. Just look at their ragged coats. Not one is sleek and shiny. In a year, after good care, they will be wiser and more beautiful. Think on that. If you put the wild ones in Jerk Meat’s herd, no one will criticize, but the first present will all have to go back to him also. It will be all right. You will still be a member of this lodge. You have won our favor and kindest feelings.
”
Sacajawea put her arms around Big Badger and buried her head in his shoulder.
Pronghorn looked away from so much emotion.
Big Badger saw him, grunted, and turned Sacajawea over to Spring. “Women!” he sputtered. “No man was made to understand one. Keep her in line with frequent beatings and she follows you like a pup. Give her everything and she threatens to leave. It turns my stomach!” He went back into the tepee and pulled Wild Plum from the cradleboard, nuzzling him and clucking at him, making the little boy laugh.
Hides Well followed him into the tepee. There she got out her paints and goose grease. She laid Sacajawea’s new tunic on her sleeping couch and marveled at the quill design on the yoke. It was different from anything she had seen. In fact it was not even a Shoshoni design. It was something Sacajawea created from herimagination. Usually this was not done in the Comanche nation.
Spring grabbed a loose rope and untied the mustangs. Sacajawea followed her, then all of a sudden jumped on the bare back of a little, shaggy-coated, wild pony and rode through the village toward the pasture with the herd racing ahead of her. Spring had seen her action and was right behind on a pony, yelling, hair flying along with manes and tails. Sacajawea turned and grinned. Spring waved to everyone along the way, thinking, Big Badger will not have to announce this marriage. Everyone already knows!
The two girls walked back and saw that Big Badger had on his best shirt and leggings. Hides Well painted the inside of his ears red, then he ducked out the lodge door and walked through the village.
“My grandson, Jerk Meat, will take the woman we call Wadzewipe. Let no other wooer interfere with this partnership. I am their official go-between.” His voice had an exuberant ring.
Inside, Sacajawea pulled off her tunic and wiped the dampness off her face and arms with a soft hide. She rubbed her back and front, then legs and feet. Hides Well painted the part in her hair with vermilion and put a little of the greasy, red paint inside her ears for a beauty accent.
Suddenly there was a noisy rushing about close to the lodge. Pronghorn, feeling in the way, was glad to go see what was going on. Sacajawea laughed nervously, saying, “It is probably people welcoming Jerk Meat as he comes from taking a look at where I put his herd of mares and mustangs.”
But the voices sounded angry, and the noise increased. Hides Well sighed, put the paints aside, wiped her hands and went out. Sacajawea followed.
Gray Bone was in front of the tepee shouting at Pronghorn. “You let your son take your own daughter as his woman! Evil! Evil! What kind of chief are you? That woman should be killed for tempting your son.” Two other women pressed toward him. Sacajawea recognized them immediately.
She Cat yelled, “Ai, only in your family could such a vile thing take place!”
Sacajawea shivered as the fear inched along her spine.
Pronghorn held his clenched fist toward the heavens. “I am your chosen chief!” His voice was loud. “My word goes. And so—while I or any one of my family live in this band, Lost Woman will be treated as if she had always been one of us. Big Badger is go-between and he announced that they will live together. I give my consent to this union. That is enough talk now. Get out of the way. Forked tongues do not scratch my skin.” He stepped aside, head up, looking over the hushed crowd gathered in front of his lodge.
Twisted Horn’s woman spoke up. “There has never been such rich gift giving for a woman in the history of the Quohadas. So, there is bound to be jealousy. I say, let the young people alone. This is their affair.”
“Ai!” shouted a man. “A marriage is nothing to divide a band’s feelings.”
“Right!” shouted another woman, who was jumping up so that she could see better. “We should think of our own happy marriage day.”
From then on the shouts took on a more erotic turn. The Quohadas laughed and made earthy jokes about marriage customs and sex. One man said, “Is it true women have a hole with blue lips and no teeth?”
Gray Bone, Weasel, and She Cat glanced neither right nor left, neither up nor down, but stared only straight ahead. Their legs moved jerkily as they sulked back to Gray Bone’s tepee, put down for the day at least.
Sacajawea breathed a sigh of relief and went back to fold her old blue coat and collect her other possessions. She helped Spring tie Jerk Meat’s bow and arrows, steel-bladed knife, winter moccasins, extra leggings, shirt, and rusty pistol into his buffalo robes.
This day would now date passage of time for the Quohadas. They would retell what Lost Woman wore and how her hair shone. They would say, “She was a woman that was found half-dead out on the plains, brought to us to mend, and became one of us. She was a hard worker and full of laughter. I knew her personally.”
Sacajawea’s thoughts ran deep. She and Jerk Meat met and from that moment they were never strangers. They were sensitive to the feelings of one another. Shefelt he was the only person she could fully trust with her innermost spirit and her outer body.
Hides Well and Spring left to make the last minute arrangements in the marriage tepee. Sacajawea was left alone with Big Badger and Wild Plum. Pronghorn had gone to look over his increased herd of horses until he could calm his fury with Gray Bone and her friends.
“I feel a need to eat,” said Big Badger. “Do you suppose you could fix a little fire in front of the lodge so that I can sit out there and keep my bowl of stew warm? I’d enjoy seeing people stand around and gossip.”
“Ai. It will be good to use the time to do something you desire, Grandfather,” said Sacajawea, moving beside him, patting his thick-knuckled hand. She leaned closer and kissed him on the forehead. “You are the best go-between in the band.”
“Tee-hee! That is something magic you do with your lips. Will you teach this to the little grandmother on the other side of the village for me? Tee-hee!”
Sacajawea looped a worn blanket under Wild Plum so that he hung against her hip, and she went to the fire hole and dug a coal from the ashes and pushed it with a piece of bark to the front of the lodge. She broke a few twigs over it and fanned a flame alive. She put stew in a small clay pot and nestled it down against the little bed of smoldering sticks, then called for Big Badger to come out. He brought his willow backrest and settled himself against it, smiling.
The neighbors pointed down the path in front of some tepees. It was Jerk Meat coming back from his bath, carrying his dirty clothes in a roll under one arm, and in the other hand the heart of a fresh-killed horse from his herd.11
Spring and Hides Well met him behind the village, finished butchering the horse, delivered the meat to those who were most needy and gave the untanned hide to the same little grandmother Big Badger had mentioned living on the other side of the village.
Jerk Meat hung the bloody heart on a wooden closing peg of the tepee flap.
“What is that?” asked Sacajawea, clicking her tongue. “I like your clean leggings and white moccasins.”
“I like the design on your dress. I see you can sew,”
Jerk Meat said. “This heart is for one ceremony my Shoshoni cousins may have forgotten. You roast it, divide it, and we eat it. It keeps our two hearts on the same trail for life.” Jerk Meat sat on his haunches near Big Badger, who grinned toothlessly.
“Then you go to the marriage lodge,” whispered Big Badger, slapping Jerk Meat on the back.
Sacajawea thought she understood, and liked the meaning of the heart ritual. She found a thick green stick in the lodge’s wood pile. She pushed the heart on the stick and held it over the little coals. When it was browned and tender she let it cool in the evening air, then nervously divided it into two parts. All the while the villagers were looking, talking, laughing, gossiping, but not coming too near the tepee. They knew they should go home, but they were reluctant to leave. Jerk Meat ate two or three bites from his half. His face shone and his eyes were bright as he watched Sacajawea. She picked at her half, not daring to look Jerk Meat in the eye because of the excitement that was building inside
of her.
The dark was almost in. Jerk Meat whispered, “Let us leave.” He wiped the meat drippings from his hands on his freshly braided hair.
The small fire threw shadows on the outside lodge wall. A soft whisper went out from mouth to mouth, “They are leaving. They are going.” The men stepped back into the darkness, and the women gathered in groups, their hands over their mouths as they whispered with their eyes cast down.
Sacajawea and Jerk Meat stood up. Then she kneeled, picked up both their packs with a leather carrying strap, and hoisted them on her back. They walked together to the newly built tepee at the edge of the village.
Neither was aware of the twinkling stars, the curious camp dog that pushed a cold nose against the back of Sacajawea’s legs, the chirping crickets, nor the howling coyote.
Inside the marriage tepee they stood side by side. Sacajawea was overcome with shyness after unpacking the sleeping robes, and took a few twigs from the wood pile to place on the red coals of the center fire. Jerk Meat touched her hand and motioned to the pile ofrobes. He too felt bashful and had to say to himself, this is my woman. Sacajawea crept to the far side of the buffalo robes and removed her moccasins and tunic and drew a robe about her shoulders. She lay quivering, every nerve of her flesh alert. She watched the slow, silent movement of her man pulling off his shirt and coming beside her. Gently he pulled her close to him. The thrill was strong. Both felt the explosion at the same time.
CHAPTER
46
Joy and Sorrow
Sacajawea had five children while with the Comancnes, but only two lived beyond infancy, the oldest, a son, Ticannaf, To Give Joy, and the youngest, a daughter, Yagawosier, Crying Basket.
CHARLES A. EASTMAN, Report to Commissioner of Indian Affairs. Washington, D.C.: Department of the Interior, March 2, 1925, pp. 1–69.
The tepee at the edge of camp was hidden by burr oak and wild grapevines. It was small, built for two, with highly colored paintings on the sides. The paintings were of the sun, depicting happiness, the moon, depicting restful nights, rain, meaning a good harvest of roots and berries, and at the sides of the door flap were fastened six silver bells. The hawk’s bells were cut from the fringe of Spring’s skirt. When the air stirred, the bells moved lightly with it.
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