He gazed at her, his brow wrinkled in thought. “Perhaps that is it.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
December 1842
Eliza was lighting kerosene lamps against the early darkness when her husband entered and doffed his jacket, hung it on the back of the door. “We shall have a visitor tomorrow,” he announced. “I have received terrible news from downriver.”
Eliza gasped. “Is Mrs. Whitman safe?” Two months earlier Dr. Whitman had departed for the East, after a letter had come from the American Board, closing both their missions. Apparently Reverend Smith and William Gray had leveled charges at Dr. Whitman and her husband, in their letters to the board, before they departed. Dr. Whitman had tried to force her husband out at their mission meeting the June before, but Brother Walker had finally come out of his shell and given both men a good talking to. He had faulted Henry for his temper and his harsh judgments, but he had been equally hard on Dr. Whitman, calling him petty in his complaints and selfish in his determination to leave the missions without a doctor if he did not get his way. The lecture had sobered both antagonists, and they had managed to open their hearts to one another and effect a peace. Henry had humbled himself before the entire group—making a public confession, asking their forgiveness. The missionaries had then agreed to forgo action on any orders from the board until its members were properly informed of the good news of reconciliation. When the letter of dismissal arrived in September, Dr. Whitman had decided to deliver the news in person. He had traveled south, by way of Taos, to avoid the worst of the winter and the Sioux.
“A Cayuse broke into her bedroom,” Henry said. “Fortunately, he fled when she screamed, thanks be to God.”
Eliza’s hand covered her mouth: “No!”
“She has taken refuge at the Dalles, with the Methodists, but in her absence the heathens have burned the gristmill, along with two hundred barrels of wheat and corn.”
“She is safe?”
“Quite safe. And our visitor, the new government agent to the Oregon Indians, has come upriver to warn the Nez Perce and Cayuse against any further trouble. I’ve been thinking for some time that we should draft a set of laws for the natives, and I suspect this might be our opportunity. Perhaps this Dr. White can convince the natives to embrace them.”
“Laws, Henry?”
“Thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, thou shalt not burn a dwelling—with appropriate punishments for each.”
“Oh Henry, you know that will only stir up the Nez Perce.”
“We need something to corral James and his savages.”
But James had left in the spring to hunt buffalo. Last Advent, during eight days of protracted services, he had made a rare appearance. He had risen and announced that he had received his wyakin in his youth and could not just throw it away, for it gave him power to make the winds blow and the clouds rain down. Timothy, who was preaching, had tried to reason with him, but the tiny chief had become so enraged he had assaulted poor Timothy. The next day James had visited the Spaldings, announced they would not see him for a long time, and departed. Thus God had answered Eliza’s prayers, and she had decided it was safe to stay.
There were still braves who harassed them. One insulted Eliza while she was teaching; another held a gun to Henry’s chest for 15 minutes. But it was more for show than a real threat, and their loyal supporters had punished the offenders. The Spaldings were more at risk from their remoteness than from hostile Indians, she was convinced. When Henry was last at the Whitman mission, Eliza had miscarried and hemorrhaged badly, almost bleeding to death. But the Lord had seen fit to preserve her life, and she was finally, two months later, feeling herself again.
The next afternoon Timothy brought word that a canoe had been spotted, and Eliza hurried with her husband to the dock. Gazing down the river, she could feel the low December sun on her face; her bonnet provided little shade so near the winter solstice. “Have you met this Dr. White?” she asked.
“Never. But I heard a good deal about him from Brother Whitman.”
“What kind of man would you say he is?” She could make out figures in the canoe now, still a quarter mile away, paddling hard against the current.
“According to Whitman, he is quite enamored of himself. Reverend Lee had to dismiss him when he served as an assistant at the Methodist mission in the Willamette Valley. Apparently he spent funds in an unauthorized manner.” He paused, his frown deepening in distaste. “And took liberties with native women.”
Eliza dropped her gaze. “How could such a man be appointed agent to Indians?”
Her husband shook his head in disgust. “Probably bribed someone in Washington. Last summer he led a party of eighteen wagons west, and their members found him so objectionable they dismissed him as captain.”
Eliza’s head jerked up. “Dear husband, why are we hosting this man?”
He smiled at her, reached for her hand. “I believe he can help us. The natives will accept laws from his mouth far better than they would from mine.”
When the long canoe finally glided into the small jetty, Dr. White was the first to come ashore, smiling as he thrust his hand forward: “You must be Reverend Spalding! I am Dr. Elijah White, at your service.”
Of medium height, he sported a full brown beard, but it was his high forehead, receding brown hair, and haughty expression that put the stamp of imperiousness upon him. Spalding shook his hand, then introduced Eliza. White doffed his hat with a bow, then strode ahead toward the house, gesturing: “What a splendid location you have! And how you have improved it! Impressive. Impressive indeed.”
“And how did you find the Whitman mission?” Spalding asked.
“A terrible tragedy, the loss of that mill. I was deeply pained at beholding such destruction.” He pointed at the mills and race: “But you have fared far better, I see.”
“Were you able to find the perpetrators?”
“There were a few frightened Indians lurking, but none of the guilty party. I ordered them to gather their headmen, and after I am finished here, I shall return and bring them to heel.”
“It’s the Catholics have put the Cayuse up to it,” Spalding said. “The papists do nothing but undermine our work. They tell the heathen the most hideous lies about us. And the English fully support them.”
“I have no doubt, sir. The Hudson’s Bay Company refused me passage upriver. They seem to think my appointment is illegal under the treaty.”
Spalding frowned. “It does forbid any government being formed until the boundary has been agreed upon.”
“Do I look like a government to you, Reverend Spalding?” A self-important smile crossed his face. “But I assure you, we shall have our way. My party proved that wagons can make the entire trip, and Dr. Whitman has taken this news east with him. Next spring a thousand will come, the year after that two thousand, the following year three thousand! By their presence they will render the issue moot. Have no fear, my friends, the land you stand on will soon be the property of the United States of America.”
Eliza fed the men who had paddled Dr. White upriver while Henry gave the doctor a tour of the mission. Then she laid a special table, with candlesticks, for her husband and Dr. White, in the parlor. Dr. White insisted that she join them.
When her husband explained his idea of imposing laws on the Nez Perce, White responded with enthusiasm: “Splendid! Perhaps you could prepare a draft for me to examine? I can see already that you have taken the heathens well in hand. To see their little fields and gardens, their chickens and pigs, is indeed a happy surprise. I find nearer approaches to civilization and more manifest desire for improvement here than I have elsewhere in this or any other Indian country.”
Her husband allowed himself a satisfied smile, but Eliza could not help feeling that she was being manipulated by a master salesman.
Toward the end of the meal White suggested they have the Indians pick a head chief, who would have the power to enforce the laws and give orders to all other hea
dmen. Her misgivings deepening, Eliza finally worked up her courage. “Do you understand how they organize themselves, Dr. White?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” He had a cigar in his mouth now, lighting it and waving the match to extinguish it. “Your husband explained that they have a number of bands. But I am sure we can convince them to choose one chief who will stand above all others in authority.”
“As long as it’s Joseph or someone of his ilk, it could work,” Henry said. “But if they choose James or Flint Necklace we shall be doomed.”
“Well, then,” Dr. White said, smiling and puffing on his cigar, “we shall have to influence their choice, shall we not?”
“But they have no habit of exercising authority over one another if they belong to a different band,” Eliza said.
White exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Habits can be broken, my dear.”
Daytime Smoke examined the Soyappo who had risen to speak. Dr. White wore a black coat over his white shirt, with a narrow string of black around his neck. The People were seated on robes on the ground in the chilly midday air. A weak sun shone down, but they were wrapped in robes and blankets—save for Lawyer and Timothy, who wore Soyappo-style overcoats. Red Grizzly Bear had insisted on traveling to meet this new Soyappo leader and hear what he had to say, so Smoke had ridden to his village, and he and his mother had transported the ancient chief by canoe.
The Great White Father had sent him with kind intentions, Dr. White said, and Timothy translated. “I am here to assure you that if any Soyappo does you harm—steals from you, or takes a life, or even sells you damaged goods or alcohol—we will make sure that such a man is punished.”
White pointed at Reverend Spalding and his wife, who sat on chairs facing the crowd. He said the Great White Chief was pleased they had come here to teach the Indians, so that they and their children might become good, wise, and happy.
Smoke saw his grandfather struggling to rise, so he stood and helped him to his feet. Dr. White noticed, too, and waited indulgently.
“I am our nation’s oldest chief,” Red Grizzly Bear said. “I have seen ninety springs. I was war chief when your great brothers, Clark and Lewis, visited this country. They visited me and honored me with their friendship and counsel. I showed them my numerous wounds received in bloody battles. They told me it was not good. It was better to be at peace. They gave me a flag of truce. I held it up high; we met and talked, and I never fought again.”
He stopped, looked around him, surveying the crowd. “Chief Red Hair said this day would come, this occasion when other leaders would come from your nations. We have long waited in expectation. We sent three of our sons to Red River School to prepare for it. Two of them sleep with their fathers; a third is here, and he can be our ears, our mouths, and our pen.” He faltered, swaying slightly, and Smoke reached up to steady him. “I can say no more; I am quickly tired. My voice and limbs tremble. I am glad I live to see you and this day, but I shall soon be still and quiet in death.”
Smoke helped his grandfather down to a seated position, cross-legged on his robe.
When he looked up the Soyappo’s smile was broad. He thanked Red Grizzly Bear for his words, then talked more about the Great White Father. Smoke was only half listening when he began talking about laws he wanted the Nimíipuu to accept—laws by which both they and the white men would live. As he began to read his list—“Whoever willfully takes a life shall be hung; whoever burns a dwelling house shall be hung”—a collective gasp escaped the crowd. They had heard of hanging from the fur hunters and Sent Ones, but few could believe that humans actually did this.
“Whoever burns an outbuilding shall be imprisoned six months, receive fifty lashes, and pay all damages,” the Soyappo continued. Behind Smoke the murmurs grew louder.
“Whoever carelessly burns a house, or any property, shall pay damages.
“If anyone enter a dwelling without permission of its occupant, his chiefs shall punish him as they think proper. Public rooms are excepted.” Smoke glanced at his mother in confusion; what was wrong with entering a lodge?
“If anyone steal he shall pay back twofold. If it have a value less than a beaver skin he shall receive twenty-five lashes, and if it have a value more than a beaver skin he shall receive fifty lashes.”
“We do not whip people!” someone shouted, and a loud chorus of “aahs” followed in agreement.
The Soyappo looked up from his paper and stared at the crowd until it was silent. Then he continued: “If anyone take a horse and ride it without permission, or take any article and use it without liberty, he shall pay for its use and receive twenty to fifty lashes.” Loud grumbling arose again, but Dr. White pressed on. “If anyone enter a field and injure crops, or throw down a fence so that cattle or horses go in and do damage, he shall pay all damages and receive twenty-five lashes for every offense.”
Smoke stared at Reverend Spalding. Young warriors had broken down some of his fences, Smoke knew, and some had set fire to his lodge. He wondered if Spalding had written these laws.
“Those only may keep dogs who travel or live among game; if a dog kill a lamb, calf, or any domestic animal, its owners shall pay for damages and kill that dog.”
There was an uproar behind him now, people standing and shouting in anger.
Once again Dr. White stared at the group until they were silent; it took several minutes this time. “If an Indian raise a gun or other weapon against a white man,” he continued, “it shall be reported to a chief, and they shall punish him. If a white person does this to an Indian, it shall be reported to Dr. White, and he shall redress it.
“If an Indian break these laws, he shall be punished by his chiefs; if a white man break them, he shall be reported to Dr. White and be punished at his instance.”
The Soyappo waited for several minutes while the group buzzed with conversation. Then he cleared his throat: “There is one other matter I would like you to discuss. To enforce these laws, you will need a head chief, a chief above all other chiefs. All other chiefs shall report to this chief, and they shall each have a guard of five men, to execute their commands under these laws.”
Smoke shared a glance with his mother. How could the People pick one chief above all others? Would members of Shooting Arrow’s band take orders from Red Wolf? Or those in Flint Necklace’s band from Thunder Eyes?
The chiefs discussed the Soyappo’s proposals in council for a long time, and the shadows grew lengthy outside the lodge. Smoke accompanied Red Grizzly Bear, who needed his help. Finally Flint Necklace proposed that they refuse all the Soyappos’ requests, but Shooting Arrow and Lawyer argued against him. Between them, they convinced the others to accept the Soyappo laws. The chiefs could not agree on one among them who would have power over all, however. If Dr. White wanted one headman to talk to, they decided, he would have to pick one.
White refused, and the next day two King George men who spoke Nimíipuu sat with the chiefs to give them counsel. As the discussion unfolded, it became clear that the Soyappos wanted a chief above chiefs who spoke their tongue. Lawyer repeated several times how well he spoke English, but only Timothy supported him. To avoid choosing him, Red Grizzly Bear finally suggested his grandson and Lawyer’s brother, Sparkling Horn—called Ellice by the Soyappos—since he had been to the Soyappo school on the Red River, where he had learned the Soyappo tongue and how to decipher the Book of Heaven. The others accepted this, all except Flint Necklace.
“You will give orders to me, a meiway?” Flint Necklace demanded of Sparkling Horn. “You who have never led us in battle, never led us on a buffalo hunt, never counted coup on an enemy! Do you think your ability to speak their tongue makes you better than the rest of us? I tell you three times, if you give me orders I will treat you as I treated Pambrun, that King George headman. I will tie you up!” He let out a mocking laugh, and others joined in, remembering how Flint Necklace had forced the King George man to pay more for furs.
Red Grizzly Bear pulled himself to his
feet, straightened his ancient body. “Enough!” he said. “You disgrace your people with your pride, Flint Necklace! You will accept their decisions!”
Flint Necklace glowered at him but argued no more.
When the chiefs told Dr. White of their choice, he announced a feast for all, to celebrate. While they waited, Daytime Smoke found Sparkling Horn, who was his cousin, and congratulated him. “I have a question,” he said. “Does their Book of Heaven tell people not to dance or have more than one wife?”
His cousin was tall and thin, dressed in Soyappo fashion, with short hair. He shook his head: “No, but my Soyappo teachers said that in Jesus’s time, men had only one wife. This is how it should be.”
“And other things Spalding tells us?”
“Even Jesus drank firewater. When I lived with King George men, their black robes drank firewater. They use it in their ceremonies.”
Smoke stared at his cousin. Perhaps Darting Swallow was right: Reverend Spalding had something wrong in his head.
Lawyer walked up and congratulated Sparkling Horn. A knowing smile played at the corners of his lips. “Perhaps it should be condolences. I look forward to watching you give orders to Flint Necklace.”
Sparkling Horn just smiled at him. They all knew that Lawyer had desperately wanted to be chosen head chief.
“I think Reverend Spalding wrote those laws,” Smoke said.
“Of course he did,” Lawyer replied. “He often confuses himself with God.”
“Do you think he hears God speak?” Smoke asked.
“No. These Soyappos are clever, but they do not have a tewat’s powers.”
“Where does their power come from?”
“From their books. When they learn something, they write it in a book. Then all others can learn it. That is why I am learning to read their words. If we can read, we can understand all that they know, and we can do what they do.”
“But Reverend Spalding healed Shooting Arrow when he was dying.”
The Coming Page 19
