Bear heard a noise, turned his head so that he saw the shadow of Rainbow as she stumbled past his lodge, into her own. Drunk again. Whiskey was a plague of Indian people and the whites knew it and used it as a weapon. Sooner or later, she might drink herself to death as Willow’s mother had done and then who would raise Rainbow’s little boy?
Willow’s mother. Bear had been only a half-grown boy himself, but he knew the story. The childless white couple had wanted a child. Willow was pretty and more than half-white, so they had stolen the little girl, ignoring the mother’s protest. What did one Indian girl’s sorrow matter to anyone? Then after she had drunk herself to death with grief, Willow had already been sent away to school. Later, the trapper had shown up, wanting his woman and child. All the whites had lied to him and he had gone away, no one knew where. He might even be dead himself now.
Did Willow know any of this or think about it at all? Probably she would consider herself fortunate that she had been raised in civilization. Someday, she might be forced to choose between the two cultures and Bear had no doubts as to which she would choose. Why would anyone give up the soft, easy life of the whites to live the free but difficult life of the Nez Perce? Chojykies, lazy. Yes, that was the life of privileged white women.
Bear closed his eyes and tried to sleep. The Nez Perce had plenty of trouble looming with the army’s deadline while Chief Joseph tried to decide what to do. That wasn’t the reason Bear couldn’t sleep. He heard Raven mutter something and turn over in his blankets. Raven was a fool for looking at the girl with green eyes. She wouldn’t be interested in becoming a warrior’s woman when she could be a soldier’s or a rich rancher’s wife. Who could blame her for turning her back on her Indian heritage? In the meantime, maybe Raven had only a passing fancy because she was new and different.
Himself, every time Bear thought about Willow, he felt strong feelings; mostly of anger. Why didn’t she just go away and not add to the Nez Perce problems?
Gradually, Bear drifted off to sleep. In his mind, he remembered swinging the girl up in his arms and putting her on his horse. She had felt so warm and delicate and her waist had been so small. Her breasts had brushed against his arm as he lifted her and he had reacted as if he had been touched by fire. When she had rode before him on the horse with his arm holding her against him, he had been aware of her warmth all the way down their bodies. He remembered now that her hair had been as black as a crow’s wing with the light reflecting off it. Bear had put his face as close as he dared so that he could smell the sweet scent of those locks. He was horrified to find that he was tempted to kiss the nape of her neck and he knew that she could probably feel his breath stirring her hair.
Was he loco? Maybe it was because he was without a woman and Bear was a virile man; he needed a woman to love and protect, a woman to give him sons. Someday, he must choose one, but he hesitated because of his scars, uncertain how a maiden would react to them, though most Nez Perce women must surely know the story. Besides, there was Raven. Bear had promised their mother he would look after his irresponsible younger brother and he did not give his word lightly. When Raven finally began to behave like a warrior and choose a woman, then that was time enough for Bear to marry. Several young women had flirted openly with the handsome Raven, but none had caught his brother’s heart.
Bear drifted into a hazy sleep in which again he lifted Willow up before him on his Appaloosa and held her close against him, his hand on her warmth. He awoke in horror at the dawn as he realized that in his dream, Willow was naked as was he.
In the morning, Bear told Raven to go to the parson’s house and escort Willow to the camp to teach. “But be careful, little brother, there is great unrest and you might not want to be seen by most white men.”
Raven frowned. “Why do you always feel you have to lecture me? I can take care of myself.”
“I meant no harm,” Bear said gently, “it is long habit, I suppose.”
“You will never let me grow up.”
He didn’t want to argue with Raven. Sometimes he despaired that his brother would ever show any maturity. “We never used to have this kind of conflict.”
“That is because until lately, I always did as I was told like an obedient puppy.”
Bear almost reminded him that Raven had a tendency to create confusion and then leave his brother to straighten things out, but that would only lead to more disagreement. Bear was frankly weary of his guardianship, but he had sworn an oath to a dying woman. “All right, don’t go escort her as I told her you would; but she really didn’t want that soldier to come with her again.”
Raven gave him a searching look from the doorway of their lodge. “How do you know that?”
He didn’t look at his younger brother; he was remembering the feel of Willow, soft and slender and yielding in his arms. “Did I not tell you I was out looking for you after you stormed out? I heard a gunshot and galloped up. A cougar had attempted to kill the old buggy horse.”
“So you were a hero all over again.” Raven made a wry face.
Bear shook his head. “No, not much happened, the cougar got away. The soldier looked so frightened, I thought he would soil his bright blue uniform. The woman merely indicated that she would feel safer if one of the Nez Perce warriors escorted her.”
“You volunteered me?”
“If you do not wish to, I can ask another warrior,” Bear feigned a yawn, “and—”
“Why don’t you escort her?”
Bear made a face and shrugged carelessly. “The chit hates me; you surely realize that. Besides, you are the one she is teaching all the books.”
Raven’s chest puffed out. “In that case,” he announced grandly, “I will escort the teacher. The children must have their lessons.”
He left the lodge and Bear smiled. To be in charge of some small thing would make Raven feel more important, build his shattered self-confidence. No one knew if in a crisis, Raven could be counted on or whether he would turn and run as he had that day of the grizzly attack. Bear wanted his brother to be happy and no Nez Perce would ever feel like a man until he fulfilled a warrior’s role and women sang songs of his prowess and bravery.
Besides, he did not want to be alone with Willow. The thought startled him and Bear stood up, paced the lodge. In fact, he did not want to see her again, wanted her out of his mind and out of his life. He was a warrior leader and there was trouble on the horizon. He had no time for anything else right now; especially not a girl who might be part-Indian, but in her heart was white as the snowcapped peaks in the distance. Besides, she hated the sight of him; she had made that all too clear.
When he went outside his lodge, Joseph was waiting for him. “I am calling a meeting of my warriors this morning to decide what to do.”
Bear looked toward Raven who was riding away in the distance. “Can it wait? Raven—”
“No,” the chief made a dismissing gesture, “only the real men; the ones I know we can count on.” Then he seemed to see Bear’s stung expression and put his hand on his shoulder. “The boy is young; someday, he may be a great warrior.”
There were other men crossing the circle toward the big meeting lodge who were younger than Raven, Bear thought, but they did not have this mark of cowardice against their honor. Bear said nothing. Instead, he wondered how he would explain this to Raven when his brother heard about it.
“Besides,” Joseph said, “he will be gone awhile if he goes for the teacher; and we need to meet now.”
“Of course.” Bear nodded. “Important matters don’t wait.”
Inside the lodge, most of the warriors had gathered, waiting solemnly to hear what Joseph had to say. Looking Glass, the old and battle-hardened warrior was there; the small trader’s mirror that he wore around his neck as jewelry, caught the firelight when he moved. Handsome Ollokot, Joseph’s younger brother and a great war leader, sat next to Joseph. Bear looked around. The one called Lawyer was not there, nor would anyone expect him to be, having signe
d the treaty and sided with the whites. Another who was missing was Reuben, Joseph’s brother-in-law, who had elected to cast his fortunes with the whites. Bear was not the only one who had conflict with men who were brothers by blood or marriage.
The lodge grew still; only the crackle of the small fire broke the silence, but outside, the sound of Atsi’s voice drifted on the air. No doubt the little girl was playing tag with her friends while waiting for the teacher to arrive.
Joseph cleared his throat. “There is nothing new to tell; General Howard has sent word again that he will show us the rifle instead of extending the hand of friendship. My father was a very wise man with his predictions.”
There was no sound, save the crackle of the fire and the scent of sweet tobacco as the pipe passed. Joseph stared into the fire. “When my father was dying, he called me to his side and said these words: ‘My son, in a few more years, white men will be all around you. They have their eyes on this land. My son, remember my dying words. This country holds your father’s body. Never sell the bones of your father and mother.’ I heed his words.”
An old warrior nodded gravely. “We understand, but the soldiers do not. I feel I know the one-armed bluecoat’s heart; it may be good, but he must do as his chiefs in this faraway place called Washington tell him.”
Ollokot, tall and strong, belying his name which meant “frog,” jumped to his feet. “The young warriors say fight!”
His brother looked at him gravely. “And can the old and the women fight?”
In the background outside, a child began to cry. Bear recognized Cub’s voice and wondered if the toddler’s mother had slept off her latest drunk?
“Hear that?” Joseph nodded toward the sound. “Can babies fight? We have a few warriors, the rest are old people, women, and children.”
A murmur of agreement drifted through the lodge.
Ollokot looked around at the silent circle. “What has happened to all of you? No woman will sing songs in our praise when they hear this, they will laugh behind their hands at our lack of bravery.”
Another old brave with many war honors looked at him. “Better the women should laugh in derision than that they should weep over their slaughtered children.”
Looking Glass scowled. “I will not lead my people into war, but we cannot survive on that tiny piece of land they have allotted; and without good hunting and all the fine salmon of our rivers, we shall die slowly.”
Joseph nodded to Bear. “We value your thoughts, oh, bravest of the brave.”
Very slowly, Bear stood. He felt all eyes upon him and knew his opinion carried much weight. It was a heavy burden because like Joseph, he would always put his people before his own safety, his own happiness. “Is there any reason to discuss this? Even if we try to do as the one-armed general orders, we cannot get our horses gathered up, we can’t meet his deadline. We have no way of knowing what the soldiers will do.”
Joseph pursed his lips. “Can you suggest any way out of this, Hohots?”
Bear looked around at the silent group. The bravest men in this Northwest wilderness were sitting at this fire, but what good did bravery do when they were so outnumbered? “Even if we managed to gather up our livestock and get them across the spring-flooded rivers by the deadline, what Looking Glass says is right, we will die only more slowly in that place.”
Again the murmur of agreement. Bear walked to the lodge opening, stood staring out toward the rugged, snowcapped ranges of mountains to the east of them. “Sitting Bull has escaped to the Grandmother’s Land after his warriors won the great victory last year against Yellowhair.”
Behind him, Ollokot cleared his throat. “The Sioux are not great friends of the Nez Perce and I see no point in your thoughts.”
“What you say is true,” Bear said, “but now we seem to have a common enemy with the Sioux; that will make a difference.” Bear stared at the distant mountains again. Some of the wildest, most rugged terrain in the whole continent lay to the east of the Nez Perce, high peaks, dangerous narrow passes through the Bitterroots and other mountains. Besides, in that more than a thousand miles of trails, there were enemy tribes occupying the lands.
The silence lengthened.
“Brave one, what is your point?” Joseph inquired politely.
Bear shrugged massive shoulders and returned to the fire. “We die if we go to the reservation and we die if we fight outnumbered, we have little to lose.”
One of the finest virtues of the Indian was patience. They waited silently for him to continue. Bear turned his thoughts over in his mind. Dare he even suggest it? His idea was the most daring, risky.... He shook his head.
“Tell us,” an old man urged.
“First, maybe we should do as Joseph suggests,” Bear said softly. “Go to the reservation, try to work out a better agreement for our people.”
“And if not?” Ollokot asked.
“It would take much bravery, much desperation; that which I am thinking.”
They all waited expectantly.
And now Bear took a deep breath and gave voice to his thoughts. “If we can do nothing else, let us gather our people; our babies and old ones and begin a march through the mountains; let us join Sitting Bull in Canada!”
Eight
Just as Bear had expected, a loud and excited murmur ran through the group of warriors.
An old one shook his head. “Have you been eating the weed the whites call ‘loco’? It is through the mountains and along the steep Lolo Trail to reach Sitting Bull. Even in the summer, it sometimes snows there.”
“I did not say it would be easy,” Bear said, “and yes, it does seem impossible. What I meant was that if we have no other choices, it is better to die of cold and hunger in freedom than slowly by inches on that tiny reservation.”
But Ollokot gestured eagerly. “The weather is warming. With summer coming on, we might make it.”
Yet another shook his head. “This is madness! Walk an entire tribe across dangerous trails and cliffs, some of the most hostile terrain in the whole Northwest? Most would never make it; they would die in the attempt.”
Bear acknowledged the truth of the warrior’s words with a nod. “Better to die breathing the sweet air of freedom than dying slowly of broken hearts. Besides, we Nimipu are a special people, so we might make it. Canada is not so different from the wild land we love.”
He let his words sink in, knowing they all knew the legend of the Creation. Nez Perce were special people because they were created from heart’s blood.
“Would the soldiers pursue us?” asked another.
“Why would they want to?” muttered a third. “They lust for our land. If we leave, we will make it easier for them. The terrible journey would kill most of our people, saving them the trouble.”
“I am one of the oldest,” a respected elder said, his voice faint and shaking, “I, Tzi-kal-tza, am half-white, fathered by Clark when the explorers, Lewis and Clark, came through many years ago. I probably have not the strength to make that trip. By white men’s miles, it must be well over a thousand miles.”
There was a murmur; some of the men had not known how many, many miles it must be.
The old man, White Bird, held up his hand for silence. “Yes, it is far. If we could go straight there, it would be a thousand miles. The twisted route down the trails and through the mountains will probably be twice that far. Yet would I risk it for the sake of freedom. And I swear now that if I falter, slow the march, I will lie down by the side of the trail and die rather than delay this journey.”
Everyone nodded approvingly. Old Chief White Bird was a very brave warrior. Now all looked toward Joseph, waiting.
His eyes were sad, his shoulders bent with the weight of the responsibility. He shook his head. “For me, I would do this daring thing, but I have the responsibility of the women and children. My own wife is expecting a child any day now.”
Ollokot, the war leader brother, made a murmur of disapproval, but Joseph only regarde
d him gravely. “Yes, the warriors want to fight, but the very old and the children cannot fight. We will try once more to get along with the soldiers; we will go to the reservation.” He stood up. “I go now to try to gather up my horses which are scattered over many miles. I will be gone several suns. When I return, I will expect that all have made ready to move. This discussion is ended. Sepekuse!” Having given notice to let the matter be, he walked from the lodge, followed by his brother and some of the other leaders.
Bear was deeply troubled as he left the lodge. So this was it then. When word spread to Raven and some of the young hotheads, they would not want to accept this docilely. It would be difficult to keep some of them off the war trail. Chief Joseph was the leader; Bear would do his best to follow his orders, even though he might not agree.
In the meantime, what about Willow? The new reservation was miles from here; she would not be coming to teach the children there. It surprised him that the knowledge saddened him. “It is because the children will be so disappointed,” he told himself.
Who would tell her? He didn’t want to be the one. Probably this teaching thing was just a lark for her. She would go back East or marry some white man and steal Indian land like the rest of them. When he thought of her lying in a marriage blanket with a white man, it made him clench his teeth.
The sound of squeaking buggy wheels brought him out of his troubled thoughts. Willow’s buggy was arriving, escorted by Raven on his finest pony.
Willow watched Bear as she drove into the camp, reined the old horse in. She couldn’t decide from his expression whether he was annoyed or angry. Why did he care if she taught the children? He must be named for his disposition, all right.
Song Of The Warrior Page 10