Wolf Shadow’s Promise (33 page)

“Marry us?”

“I think that we should have the white man's certificate. Is it not this that you wish?”

“Well, yes, but I didn't mean to imply that I am anything else but married to you already.”

“Still,” he said, at last grinning down at her, “I think this is something I would like to do.”

“Why, I can't believe it. I…” She leaned over Moon Wolf so that she could address the reverend. “Is it true? Are you here to marry us, Brother Mark?”

“Yes, I am,” came the deeply resonant voice of the reverend. “I was fetched by this young man to do exactly that. This party was really the start of the ceremony, I believe. But your mother and this young man here wanted you to be surprised.”

“Yes, well, that I am.” She turned to her mother. “Then you've known all along?”

“Of course, dear.”

“But tell me, Brother Mark, I have been searching and searching this town for a clergyman who would marry us, and I have found none that would do it. You do not mind, then, that Moon Wolf and I are not of the same…” She left the rest unsaid.

“My child, I am only happy that the two of you have chosen to do the right thing and are seeking to have His
blessing upon you. I assure you that the Lord cares not whether your skin color is white or red. I only wish the other settlers in the territory had a heart so open. It would certainly be easier to help the tribes of Indians if the moral quality of white immigrants improved. But I would ask something of you before we go any further.”

“What is that, Reverend?”

“Do you love this man?”

Alys grinned wholeheartedly. “That I do, Reverend. That I do.”

“Then,” he suggested, “I think we should have that wedding.”

“Especially,” volunteered Moon Wolf, “since I have found the deed that both mother and daughter have been seeking so desperately.”

A shocked instant followed those carefully chosen words until mother and daughter blurted out all at once, “You what?”

“I found this paper long ago when I was exploring the caves,” explained Moon Wolf. “Remember, Little Brave Woman, when I was telling you to observe the small things? That sometimes this could save your life?”

She nodded.

“This paper was hidden behind a rock that looked like it might have been part of the wall. But one rock was of granite, the other of schist. I became curious about this and looked behind the rock. This is what I found.” He produced the document.

Neither woman could speak for several moments.

At last it was Alys who found her voice. “But this is wonderful,” she said, her voice barely over a whisper. “I will go to the General Land Office tomorrow and register this claim.”

“That is good,” he said, “that is very good. Perhaps this land”—he waved at the document—“is that special place
we had hoped to find. Perhaps, too, this will be the start of our two worlds coming together, for, have you noticed one other thing?”

Alys could do little more than shrug her shoulders.

“This property is on the land that has been ceded to my people. They will be our neighbors.”

Alys stared at him for a moment before she suddenly broke out into laughter.

“It is wonderful,” she said, “it is truly simply wonderful, my love.”

 

A breeze flew down through the ears of the tepee and up into the entryway of the council lodge. It lifted her white veil, which her mother had brought for her, away from her face. She grinned slightly, not paying any attention to the words that Reverend Mark spoke. She sneaked a peek to her side, however, and caught Moon Wolf's glance back at her. She bestowed upon him a shy smile.

He readily returned the gesture and reached down to hold her hand. No matter that she wore white lace gloves—the feel of his firm grip upon her sent shivers racing up and down her spine.

Not a single space remained in the council lodge, as all within the encampment crowded in to witness the joining of these, their two heroes.

She had dressed quickly in Butterfly Woman's lodge, her mother and the other female relatives only too happy to help clothe her in the white satin gown she had brought with her. The dress, trimmed with Valenciennes lace, was one she had started making while still visiting in the east, although she had finished the garment at home. Though it was not specifically made to be a wedding dress, she was certain that when she looked back upon this day, that wouldn't make the slightest difference.

She closed her eyes as a feeling of well-being swept over her.

Although she knew Brother Mark by reputation only, it was clear that he was a man of integrity and honesty, the name given to him by the Blackfeet, “Kind Heart,” summing it up better than she could have.

“Do you, Moon Wolf,” the reverend was saying, “take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love, honor and trust her, to have and to hold her, in sickness and in health, and for richer or poorer, so long as you both shall live?”

Moon Wolf's voice rang out with clarity as he said, “
Waanisttsi
, I do.”

At last the reverend turned to her. “And do you, Alys, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love, honor and trust him, to have and to hold him, in sickness and in health, and for richer or poorer, so long as you both shall live?”

She smiled. “I do.”

“Then by the power invested in me by the Lord, our God, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He turned to Moon Wolf. “You may kiss the bride.”

Grinning down at her, Moon Wolf raised the veil away and, placing a finger under her chin, lifted her head toward his, bringing his lips to hers so softly, so tenderly, that she whimpered, tears of happiness streaming from the corners of her eyes. He whispered, “
Kitsikakomimmo
,” as the crowd around them began to sing and shout.

But the two lovers didn't even hear. Gazing down at her, he wiped away her tears with the tip of his finger, rubbing the moisture so very carefully on his own cheek. He whispered, “And now, as it has been in the past, a part of you is a part of me—always…”

Recognizing these as the same words he had once spoken so very long ago, she threw herself into his arms, crying, “For always and always…”

T
hey stood alone on the hill overlooking the river that flowed steadily through their land. Clear, clean water rushed beneath them, as though endowed with a life of its own. The sun, high in the sky, beat down upon them, and in the distance loomed the hills and snow-capped mountains they loved so much. A hawk, flying high overhead, squawked, and in the distance a wolf howled.

Neither person said a word; neither one had to.

Though so very different, these two people loved, and no one, save the power of God, could take that from them.

Closer now came the howl of a wolf, joined in by another. Soon, two wolves appeared on the far horizon, one trotting toward the two people on the hill.

“
Makoyi
,” the man called, and the wolf whined over and over again until at last came another melancholy howl, joined shortly by another. The two people hugged one another to this, their serenade, their prairie song.

Life would go on. The people would survive.

But most of all, there would be love in abundance.

 

“They both lived to a very great age and always was their love for one another a thing of beauty and inspiration for all the people. They had many, many children and grandchildren, some living to this day. Some, who are sitting here beside me, are direct descendants from those two heroes.

“But, come, when I started this story, I told you that there was only one hero. Do you see now that there were three?”

“Yes, Grandfather,” said the little girl sitting next to him, her small arms wrapped around his legs. “Besides Moon Wolf there was his pet,
Makoyi
. And Little Brave Woman was a woman of great courage. But Grandfather, how can she be a Blackfeet legend when she wasn't even Indian?”

The old man raised his chin, his eyes flickering with an emotion that was almost unreadable. At length, he uttered, “Oh, my granddaughter, but she was of our tribe. For you see, being Blackfeet is not just a matter of color of skin or the place where one is born. Being Blackfeet, my child, is also a condition of the heart.
Aa
, yes, a condition of the heart. Remember this. The white man's ways may come and go, but so long as you remember us, the true and moral ways of your people, you will always prosper.

“And now I have spoken.”

The old man hung his head, the young child at his side taking his hand in her own small one.

She whispered, “I will remember, Grandfather. I will always remember…”

Aa—
the Blackfeet word for
yes
.

Almost Mother—
with those tribes that practiced polygamy, this was another wife of the same father. Often an almost mother was also an aunt, for a man would try to marry sisters.

Blackfeet—
the tribe of Indians who now live in northwestern Montana. Originally there were three tribes of Indians that comprised the Blackfoot Nation—the
Pikuni
, the
Kainah
, and the
Siksika
. They were three distinct tribes, which hunted together and intermarried and spoke the same language and became known to the trader generally as the Blackfoot or Blackfeet (used interchangeably). In reservation days, the southern
Pikuni
, or, as they are sometimes known, the
Piegan
(pronounced Pay-gan), began to be called the Blackfeet erroneously by the United States
government. This left the
Siksika
in Canada (
Siksika
means Blackfoot in their own language) as the Blackfoot tribe which resides in Canada; the northern
Pikuni
reside also in Canada. This northern
Pikuni
tribe is often referred to as the
Pikuni
or
Piegan
tribe. What this means is that today, when we speak of the Blackfoot Nation, we speak of four different tribes—the Blackfeet in northern Montana (really the southern
Pikuni
or
Piegan
), the
Piegan
or
Pikuni
in Canada (the northern
Pikuni
or
Piegan
), the
Kainah
, or Blood tribe, in Canada, and the
Siksika
, or Blackfoot, in Canada.

Black Robe—
a priest, usually a Jesuit, called a Black Robe because of their dress.

Bull Train—
bulls pulled the freight of the wagons from one place to another. “Bulls are slow travellers, and these had a heavy load to haul. The quantity of weight of merchandise that could be stowed away in those old-time ‘prairie schooners' were astonishing. Berry's train now consisted of four eight-yoke teams, drawing twelve wagons in all, loaded with fifty thousand pounds of provisions, alcohol, whisky, and trade goods. There were four bull-whackers, a night-herder who drove the ‘cavayard'—extra bulls and some saddle horses…” (James Willard Schultz,
My Life as an Indian
)

Faille—
on a lady's gown, a material made of silk, finely ribbed.

Kit Fox Society—
all Indian tribes had different societies for men and for women. The Kit Fox Society, or the
Sin'-o-pah
, a society of the
Pikuni
, was part of the
All Comrades society. These were more or less secret societies and were ranked according to age. Their duties were mainly to enforce tribal law. Different dances and games were associated with each society.

Last Brother is pointing down—
in the night sky. The Big Dipper makes a circle around the North Star every twenty-four hours. Of the seven stars in the Big Dipper, this is the last star in the handle. Pointing down would make the time very late evening or early morning.

Medicine Line—
the division between the United States and Canada.

Paletot—
a lady's cloak. It is usually fitted loose with a cape collar.

Percale—
lady's fashion. A calico material that has been slightly glazed.

Polonaise—
on a lady's gown, an overskirt resembling a coat in which the front is pulled back. It is worn over an underskirt.

Saa—
the Blackfeet word for
no
.

Seven—Eleven—Seventy - Seven—
the Vigilance Committee. Civilians who took the law into their own hands. “You don't know exactly who they are, but you may be sure that they are representative men who stand for law and order; they are more feared by criminals than are the courts and prisons of the
East, for they always hang a murderer or robber.” (James Willard Schultz,
My Life as an Indian
)

Seizers—
what the Blackfeet Indians called the soldiers at this point in history.

Soka'pii—
the Blackfeet word for
good
, usually accompanied by a hand motion for good. Holding the right hand level with the stomach, palm down, make a quick motion outward, saying
soka'pii
at the same time.

Walking Suit—
in women's fashion, a dress or a costume very popular at this time in history. They are distinct from the visiting dress in that the visiting dress is made from more than one material.

Whiskey Sneakers—
what the Indians called the white men who peddled whiskey to the Indians.

“A
s the winter wore on the buffalo herds drifted farther and farther away from the mountain, and we had to follow them or starve. We moved down to the mouth of Two Medicine Lodges River; then in Middle-Winter Moon (January), moved down on Bear River and camped in a bottom that Mountain Chief's band had just left, they going a little way farther down the river. It was an unhappy time: the whites had given us of their terrible white-scabs disease (smallpox), and some of our band were dying. And the buffalo herds remained so far out from the river that we had to go for a two or three days' hunt in order to get meat for our helpless ones. One evening I arranged to go on a hunt with a number of our band. We were to travel light, take only two lodges to accommodate us all; my mother and one of my sisters were to go with me to help with my kills. Came morning and I set out for my horses; could not find them on the plain. Sought them in the timbered bottoms of the valley; did not come upon
them until late in the day. The hunting party had long since gone. I told my mother that we would join the next party of hunters to go out. We still had dried meat to last us for some days.

“On the following morning I found my horses in the timber well above camp and was nearing it with them when, suddenly, I ran into a multitude of white men: seizers. I was so astonished, so frightened, that I could not move. One of the seizers came and grasped my arm; spoke; tapped his lips with his fingers; I was not to speak, shout. He was a chief, this seizer, had strips of yellow metal on his shoulders, had a big knife, a five-shots pistol. He made me advance with him; all of the seizers were advancing. We came to the edge of the camp; close before us were the lodges. Off to our right were many more seizers looking down upon them. It was a cold day. The people were all in their lodges, many still in their beds. None knew that the seizers had come.

“A seizer chief up on the bank shouted something, and at once all of the seizers began shooting into the lodges. Chief Heavy Runner ran from his lodge toward the seizers on the bank. He was shouting to them and waving a paper writing that our agent had given him, a writing saying that he was a good and peaceful man, a friend of the whites. He had run but a few steps when he fell, his body pierced with bullets. Inside the lodges men were yelling; terribly frightened women and children, screaming—screaming from wounds, from pain as they died. I saw a few men and women, escaping from their lodges, shot down as they ran. Most terrible to hear of all was the crying of the little babies at their mothers' breasts. The seizers all advanced upon the lodges, my seizer still firmly holding my arm. They shot at the tops of the lodges; cut the bindings of the poles so the whole lodge would collapse upon the fire and begin to burn-burn and smother those within. I saw my
lodge go down and burn. Within it my mother, my almost-mothers, my almost-sisters. Oh, how pitiful were their screamings as they died, and I there, powerless to help them!

“Soon all was silent in the camp, and the seizers advanced, began tearing down the lodges that still stood, shooting those within them who were still alive, and then trying to burn all that they tore down, burn the dead under the heaps of poles, lodge-skins, and lodge furnishings; but they did not burn well.

“At last my seizer released my arm and went about with his men looking at the smoking piles, talking, pointing, laughing, all of them. And finally the seizers rounded up all of our horses, drove them up the valley a little way, and made camp.

“I sat before the ruin of my lodge and felt sick. I wished that the seizers had killed me, too. In the center of the fallen lodge, where the poles had fallen upon the fire, it had burned a little, then died out. I could not pull up the lodge-skin and look under it. I could not bear to see my mother, my almost-mothers, my almost-sisters lying there, shot or smothered to death. When I went for my horses, I had not carried my many-shots gun. It was there in the ruin of the lodge. Well, there it would remain.

“From the timber, from the brush around about, a few old men, a few women and children came stealing out and joined me. Sadly we stared at our ruined camp; spoke but little; wept. Wailed wrinkled old Black Antelope: ‘Why, oh, why had it to be that all of our warriors, our hunters, had to go out for buffalo at this time. But for that, some of the white seizers would also be lying here in death.'

“‘One was killed. I saw him fall,' I said.

“‘Ah. Only one seizer. And how many of us. Mostly women and children; newborn babies. Oh, how cruel, how
terribly cruel are the white men,' old Curlew Woman wailed.

“‘Killed us off without reason for it; we who have done nothing against the white,' said old Three Bears, and again we wept.

“As we sat there, three men arrived from Mountain Chief's camp below. They stared and stared at our fallen, half-burned lodges, at our dead, lying here and there, and could hardly believe what they saw. They rode over to us, asked what had happened, and when we had told them of the white seizers' sudden attack upon us, it was long before they could speak. And then they said that we were to live with them; they would take good care of us poor, bereaved ones.

“Said old Three Bears: “We had warning of this. That white trader, Big Nose, told us that the whites were going to revenge the killing of Four Bears by Owl Child. But why didn't they seek him, kill him, instead of slaughtering us here, we always friendly with the whites?'

“That Owl Child—he had killed my father, and now he was the cause of my mother's and all my womenfolks' lying dead under their half-burned lodges. Well, as soon as possible, I would kill him, I vowed.

“That night the white seizers did not closely watch the hundreds of horses that they had taken from us. We managed to get back about half of the great herd and drive them down to Mountain Chief's camp. During the day our buffalo hunters returned. With many horses loaded with meat and hides, they came singing, laughing, down into the valley, only to find their dear ones dead under their ruined lodges. The white killers had gone, turned back whence they came. As best we could we buried our dead—a terrible, grieving task it was—and counted them: fifteen men, ninety women, fifty children. Forty-four lodge and
lodge furnishings destroyed, and hundreds of our horses stolen. Haiya! Haiya!

“And to this day I deeply regret that I had no opportunity to fulfill my vow: even then Owl Child had the terrible white-scabs disease, and a few days later he died.”

Bear Head finished his tale, and I was silent, and very, very sad. The murder of the three Pikunis, Heavy-Charging-in-the-Brush, Bear Child, and Rock-Old-Man, by the three white men at Fort Benton had caused no particular comment. But the killing of Malcolm Clark (Four Bears) was different. The newspapers and the residents of the territory were loud in denunciation of the outrage; as it was, no settler, no traveler, was safe from the Indians, they said. The commanding officers at Fort Shaw and Fort Ellis as well as the Secretary of War were called upon to punish severely the Indians, to make the country safe for the whites, above all to make reprisal on Mountain Chief's band, of which Owl Child was a member.

So was it that Major Eugene M. Baker of Fort Ellis was chosen to lead an expedition against the band. Early in January, 1870, he left Fort Ellis with four companies of the Second Cavalry. Arriving at Fort Shaw, he arranged to have fifty-five mounted men of the Thirteenth Infantry under Captain Higbee join his command; and Joseph Kipp, a Fort Shaw scout, was sent out to locate the band. He found it in a bottom of Marias River Valley due north of Goosebill Butte and, returning to the fort, so reported. On the following morning the expedition set out northward and that evening camped on Teton River, close under Priest's Butte. Two mornings later, looking down upon the camp on Marias River, scout Kipp at once said to Colonel Baker, “Colonel, that is not Mountain Chief's camp. It is the camp of Black Eagle and Heavy Runner, I know it by its differently painted lodges.”

And he was right. Since he had been there a few days
previously, Mountain Chief's band had moved down the river about ten miles, and this band had come down and occupied the deserted campground.

Said Colonel Baker, “That makes no difference, one band or another of them; they are all Piegans and we will attack them.” And then to one of his men: “Sergeant, stand behind this scout, and if he yells or makes a move, shoot him.” And finally: “All ready men. Fire!”

I obtained later some more information about the massacre:

 

HISTORICAL SOCIETY OF MONTANA (seal)

—On the Baker Massacre, James Willard Schultz,
Blackfeet and Buffalo: Memories of Life Among the Indians
(as told to Schultz by Bear Head), edited by Keith C. Seele, copyright © 1962, University of Oklahoma Press