THIRTEEN
June 8, 1806
Swan Lighting watched as Black Eagle sprinted toward the finish line, just ahead of the mixed blood, who led two Soyappos. Men shouted, urging their runners on. A young Soyappo passed out cups of firewater he had made from camas roots; the men swilled it down and shouted for more. Many of Swan’s people were here at the Soyappo camp for a farewell celebration, and they were in high spirits. Countless wagers had been made. Even Black Horn, who stood between Lone Elk and Five Lightnings, with their support, had bet on the race. Red Hair had given him two more treatments, and he was getting stronger every day.
Swan had fulfilled her husband’s wishes, she realized. No longer would she have to care for his father.
She looked around for Red Hair, saw him standing with Sacagawea’s boy on his shoulders. Baptiste’s fever had broken, and the swelling on his neck was almost gone. Red Hair looked so different without hair on his face: his face was longer, and its lower half shone pale white, as if his skin had two tones.
The shouting intensified as the Soyappos strained to overtake her brother, but it was hopeless—they wore leggings, he wore only a breechcloth. The Nimíipuu men let loose with shouts of triumph, and the Soyappos paid their wagers.
Two men from Cut Nose’s band walked toward the Soyappos, carrying thick hide bags. When they reached the middle of the crowd, they opened the bags and two badgers fell out. The animals showed their teeth and tried to attack, but the men lifted them into the air—each had a hide thong tied around a rear leg. The badgers dangled in furious impotence, while the Soyappos gaped at them. Swan smiled; she knew this game. One of the men handed his badger to the other and offered the Soyappos a wager, using signs.
A Soyappo who had been learning the People’s language—the one who had put shoes on her father’s horse—stepped forward, held up three brass buttons and announced in Nimíipuu that he would take their wager. The shorter, flat-nosed Nimíipuu offered a horse, and the Soyappo nodded in agreement as his friends cheered. The man with the badgers handed one to his friend, the other to the Soyappo, who was careful to keep it dangling at arm’s length. On a signal, both men dropped their badgers to the ground. The frightened animals began to dig at a startling pace, dirt flying, spraying those behind them.
Within minutes, the animals were out of sight. The taller downriver man shouted, and the two contestants reached into the holes and grabbed the animals. The Soyappo pulled with all his might, grunting and shaking the dirt off his face as the frantic animal kept digging, while the Nimíipuu pulled his badger out with ease. By the time the Soyappo extracted his, everyone was laughing at him.
The Soyappo they called Colter stepped up and laid a metal awl on the ground as his wager. With his blue eyes and hair like the sun, he was a favorite among the People. The taller downriver man motioned for his horse, which he signed would be his bet. The defeated Soyappo handed his badger to Colter. When both men were ready the short one gave a shout and they let the badgers go. Again the terrified animals dug into the earth as fast as they could go. Baptiste squealed, gesturing at the animals. On the signal, the men dove down and grabbed for the animals’ legs. Colter was broad and solid, like a tree trunk, and she could see his muscles bulge as he yanked. But when he dragged the frenzied badger out of the hole, the downriver Nimíipuu was already dangling his by the leg. Baptiste clapped his hands.
The badgers looked tired, but the Soyappo who was always fishing came forward, thrusting a fishhook at the downriver men as his wager. The shorter Nimíipuu offered his ram’s horn bow. The Soyappo nodded, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of the prize, and accepted the badger. The two men moved a few yards away, to force the animals to start fresh holes. Upon the signal, the men dropped the badgers, and again they set to digging as if their lives depended on it. When the downriver man shouted, the Soyappo dove into the hole, grabbed the badger’s hind legs with both hands and yanked with all his strength. The badger was tired and sore by now, so it came out—but not before his opponent had extracted his own. The Soyappo pounded the earth and shouted in frustration, while everyone else roared.
Red Hair stepped forward and peered at the badgers. The animals hung limply by their hind legs now, heads down, exhausted. He asked Drouillard a question, but the mixed blood just shrugged. Red Hair looked around, puzzled. When his eyes caught Swan’s, she laughed. He walked toward her and said something in Soyappo. Baptiste leaned down and reached for her, diving off his shoulders, and she took him in her arms.
You know, don’t you? Red Hair signed.
She just laughed. She wasn’t going to spoil the fun.
I can see it in your eyes.
Everyone was watching, which made her uncomfortable. She motioned with her head toward the river, then turned and walked that way.
Please, he signed, catching up. How do they do it?
She handed Baptiste back to free her hands. Your men get a female badger, but ours get a male. When they reach in, they squeeze his balls, and he lets go.
Red Hair’s mouth flew open; then he doubled over, the boy in his arms, and roared.
She glanced back at the others, who had turned to stare at him. She shuddered at the thought of people gossiping about them. But it was now or never; her father had told her the Soyappos were leaving in two days for the Oyaip Prairie, where they planned to hunt until their guides were ready. She turned her back to the others and hurriedly threw signs: I have something I want to show you. Saddle two horses and meet me beyond our fishing weir.
His eyes showed his surprise, but he nodded yes.
She turned and walked upriver, her stomach in a knot. She walked fast, made sure she was beyond sight of the village before Red Hair reached her. He rode the big bay gelding her father had given him and held the lead of her spotted mare. She took the lead, found the stirrup, and swung herself up. When she looked over at him, he was holding a red cloth out toward her. She took it, and he signed: I made a foolish mistake when I first offered this to you. I did not understand that you were in mourning. Will you accept it now, with my apologies?
She felt the smooth, silky cloth, a deep, beautiful red. She could not help but smile. She wrapped it around her shoulders and tied it in front, then signed: Thank you.
Her stomach fluttered as they rode south along the river. The water sparkled in the sunlight and a warm breeze rippled the grass. Her husband had often brought her this way, to a grove by the river, where they could make love with abandon, their cries echoing to the skies. He had not liked to couple in the longhouse, where they had to be quiet and anyone awake might hear them.
They rode in silence until she reined in before a small, rocky hill that erupted from a meadow, near a slough that paralleled the river. My people were born here, she signed.
He looked confused.
They dismounted and hobbled their horses. She led him to the top of the conical knob, a climb that was just long enough to leave them both winded.
This is called Heart of Monster, she signed.
Why?
Long ago, before there were people, Coyote killed a monster here. Monster’s heart turned to stone.
This is it? Here?
Yes. She told him the legend.
He chuckled: You believe this?
Each nation has its legend. Ours I believe, and theirs they believe.
He nodded, to show that he understood.
Your people—do you have a legend of beginning? she asked.
He thought for a moment. We believe Creator, who created Earth and animals, also created first man. He put first man in a garden, with many animals and much fruit. But first man was lonely, so Creator took his rib—he pointed to his own rib cage—and from it made a woman.
Her eyebrows rose: And you believe this?
He shrugged and winked: Each nation has its own story.
Swan laughed. We believe animals came first, then only much later, people.
We believe Creator made earth, animals, an
d first man, in six days. On seventh day, he rested.
And all people in all nations have come from first man and his rib woman?
Yes. Creator gave them a beautiful garden, with plenty to eat. But he told them never to eat fruit from one tree. A snake tempted woman with fruit of this tree, and she ate it, then fed it to first man. Creator was so angry he threw them out of his garden. Ever since, man and woman have had to wander and struggle to survive, because they no longer live in his garden.
Sad story, Swan signed. We also believe Creator gave us a beautiful garden, but we still live there.
He smiled. I believe you do.
He plucked a long piece of grass and stuck one end in his mouth. May I ask you a question?
Yes.
Your brother told me that before you slashed your wrists last fall, you looked into my heart. What did you see?
She dropped her eyes, self-conscious. Finally she looked up: I saw your spirit.
And?
It was good.
He took the grass out of his mouth and leaned toward her, kissed her. Her nerves quivered and her heart pounded in her chest. It felt so strange, smelling his man smell, feeling the stubble on his cheeks. It was so different from her husband’s kiss that she felt the betrayal as an acute hollowing, a weakness in her stomach.
She pulled back, then stood, fighting her fear. You have already decided this, she told herself. Or would you rather marry Spotted Wolf—or refuse him and offend his family?
You must give my parents a gift, she signed. And they will give you a gift in return.
He gazed at her, puzzled. That is how you marry?
She nodded.
You know we’re leaving soon?
She nodded again.
He shrugged, then smiled. I would be happy to give your family a gift.
PART II
FRIENDSHIP
Simply to call these people religious would convey but a faint idea of the deep hue of piety and devotion which pervades their whole conduct. Their honesty is immaculate, and their purity of purpose, and their observance of the rites of their religion, are most uniform and remarkable. They are, certainly, more like a nation of saints than a horde of savages.
—Captain Benjamin Bonneville, describing the Nez Perces in 1832; quoted by Washington Irving in The Adventures of Captain Bonneville
FOURTEEN
July 1817
The trail descended through a ravine into the deepest canyon the boy had ever seen. The brilliant green of its spring grasses was broken only by reddish outcroppings and a ribbon of blue-green water far below.
When they finally reached the bottom, a small, flat plain nestled beside the River of Hemp. His uncle pointed out a large rock shaped like a howling coyote that rose up to guard the north end, then a boulder like a bear’s head that reared up against all intruders from the south. This was a sacred place, his uncle said; here they would be protected as they made their preparations.
While the boy built a fire, Black Eagle found five smooth stones in their hiding places and placed them in the fire. They both gathered willow bush branches, bent and tied them into a frame for a sweat lodge. A depression had been dug long ago under one side of a boulder, like a small cave. They shaped the frame to cover it and lay their buffalo robes over the top. His uncle had him line the floor with fir and pine branches, then used a forked stick to carry in the red-hot stones.
They stripped and entered the lodge, and his uncle sprinkled water on the rocks to make steam. They had to cleanse his body and spirit so that his wyakin would come. The boy had seen people dance the winter dances and sing songs their spirit guides had given them. Their wyakins protected them, led them to game, made them strong in battle, warned them of danger. A wyakin could be an animal, or wind or fog or lightning, or even a mountain. Everything was living, everything had spirit.
Soon the boy was sweating fiercely, his face almost as red as his hair. “Let us cool off,” his uncle said.
The current during the Time of First Salmon was swift, but there was a bend in the river here that created a small, protected area where a sandy beach had built up. Black Eagle led the boy into the water, still ice cold. Though he was soon shivering, the boy was determined to say nothing. Finally Black Eagle climbed out and beckoned toward the sweat lodge.
When the boy felt sweat bead on his forehead again, his uncle began to speak: “You will leave here and go into these mountains. You will find a peak that calls to you, and you will climb it. You know you must not eat or drink, nor warm yourself with fire. You will collect stones and sit by the cairn you build.”
The boy nodded.
“Spirits will sense your hardship and want to help. By fasting, you will attract your guardian spirit. They seldom come to those who do not suffer.” He paused, and the boy nodded again. “To Allalimyah, who sends us our wyakins, sing a prayer. Every time you complete your prayer, add a stone to your cairn. Keep your mind on your task; do not let other thoughts enter. Listen, and be watchful. To stay awake, you may walk about, but do not talk, and do not sleep.
“When you lose consciousness, your wyakin may come to you. Do what it asks. Listen carefully. It will give you instructions, rules you must follow if you want its power.”
The boy could feel his anxiety rising. “How will I know this is my wyakin, not just a dream?”
“You will know. That is all I can tell you. You will know.”
“Are you certain I will receive a visit?”
“No. Three or four times some try before their wyakin visits. Others never find one. If five suns pass, come back and we will try again later.”
The boy’s eyes revealed his fear. He could not imagine being alone in the mountains for five days without food or water. His uncle rose and led him to the river. “Now we will cool off again,” he said, “and then we will finish our sweat with prayers.”
When they finally emerged, the canyon was in shadows. Black Eagle pulled a small piece of green willow, the bark at one end peeled away so it curled, from his bag. He handed it to the boy, told him to put it down his throat, peeled end first, to purge himself. The boy vomited what little remained in his stomach. Then his uncle pulled a fire drill and a handful of fir needles from high in the mountains out of his bag. He sat down and twirled the red fir stick between his hands, into a groove in a block of smokewood. Using the fir needles as tinder, he soon had a small fire. He held the needles up and moved them around the boy, purifying his spirit with their smoke.
He told the boy to dress, then handed him an extra pair of moccasins and a buffalo robe. “Be strong,” he said. “Remember that you do this to become a great warrior and leader of your people.”
It was dusk when the boy set out on foot. He felt hungry but clean and light after the long sweat bath, yet doubts pursued him. Perhaps he would be one of those who never found a wyakin. His mother had told him that white men did not have wyakins; perhaps his white blood would prevent the spirits from coming to his aid. Without a wyakin he would lead a poor life, without glory.
The moon rose almost full, bathing the trail in pale light. The boy pushed on, winding his way up the steep ravine. When he reached the top, he followed the ridgeline south. He could see the Seven Devils looming in the distance, standing in a semicircle. They had once been giant, child-eating monsters who lived in the mountains that fed the Little Stream. Each year they had traveled toward the rising sun, devouring every child they came upon. The chiefs of many nations had asked Coyote to help free them from this menace, and Coyote had asked Fox for advice. We will dig seven holes, Fox suggested—very deep, where the giants always pass—and fill them with boiling liquid. When the monsters came they fell in, splashing around and forming the red rocks of this country. Coyote turned them into seven mountains, so high that everyone could see them and know they were punished. Then he made a deep gash in the earth so no more of their kind might come across to trouble the People; today the River of Hemp snaked through its bottom.
; All night the boy walked south. The moon traveled across the sky, and the stars wheeled slowly around Elder Brother. Occasionally he heard the hoot of an owl or the howl of a lone wolf, and he walked faster.
As dawn showed in the east, the trail descended into a saddle, where he found a spring. He rested for a few minutes, wishing he could drink the cool water. He gazed up at the mountains, bluish in the early morning light, but none called to him. How would he know which peak to climb? Then the first rays of the sun poked over the ridge and lit the top of one peak as if it were afire, and he knew.
He reached it at midday. It was rounded, a flat area on top, with a few stubby trees. From the top he could see down into the great canyon and across to the mountains of the Wallowa. Toward the rising sun he could see the great mountains that separated his people from Buffalo Country.
He felt weak, but the pain of hunger had left him. He gathered stones, then sat down. He thought about the instructions his uncle had given him, remembered that he was to pray, and sang a prayer to Allalimyah. Each time he finished a prayer, he placed a stone down, and slowly his cairn grew.
When the sun set he began to shiver. To stay warm and awake he wrapped himself in his buffalo robe and walked around the top of the peak, praying to Allalimyah to send his wyakin tonight. At dawn he sat again, blinking to fight off sleep. The last thing he remembered was staring at a small tree. Then suddenly he was staring at a large gray wolf, and fear jolted him awake. He blinked, but the wolf was gone. Only the tree remained.
His back and head hurt, where he had slumped against the cairn. He moved away from it and sat on his buffalo robe. Soon he was again staring at Himíin, the night hunter. Fear coursed through him and he awoke again.
The third time he understood. Himíin stood and peered at him as if waiting for his attention, and his spirit reached out in greeting. The wolf moved closer. Fire burned from its head, and its yellow eyes gazed into his. When the wolf spoke, it was not with his mouth, and the boy could hear thunder: “My boy, do not fear. Look at me! Do as I tell you, and my power will be yours. A wise hunter and warrior you will be. Great cunning and a keen nose I possess. All these things you possess as well, as do all men. But you must learn to use them.
The Coming Page 9
