Streams to the River, River to the Sea Read online

  I pegged and cleaned so well that the following day the Sioux woman brought two skins for me to work with. The next day she brought three. Though I could have done more, I did only two of them. I decided that she wished to make an old woman of me.

  I worked at this task day after day until the first birds began to fly south. About this time I made a discovery. I had learned many of the Minnetaree words—it's not a difficult language. By chance one morning while they were cooking breakfast, I overheard the oldest wife and the next to the oldest talking to each other.

  Blue Sky, the oldest wife, said, "She has done well for a Shoshone."

  "I am filled with surprise," the next to the oldest said. "First, when she came, I had doubts. The big eyes, like a young deer, gave me doubts."

  "The Shoshone girls all have big eyes."

  "And they know that they do."

  "Ai. They know it."

  "Their eyes look down and up and sideways, never at you straight."

  "The Shoshone girls are shy."

  "You think so? Not me!"

  I had just awakened and the buffalo robe was pulled up around my face. I pushed it down and listened hard. The women were only a few strides away, standing around the big cooking kettle. A curtain hung between us.

  "Red Hawk, my fine son, will be home tomorrow," Blue Sky said. "I heard this from Black Moccasin."

  "Then it is true, for Black Moccasin always knows about his son. A spirit tells him all that Red Hawk does."

  "And thinks."

  "Ai."

  "Do you believe that he will like the Shoshone girl? Tell me, what does she call herself?"

  "Sacagawea."

  "What does 'Sacagawea' mean? It makes an odd sound in the mouth."

  "Who knows?"

  I pushed the buffalo robe away, crawled to the curtain, and set my good ear tight against it. My other ear had been hurt when Tall Rock shoved me into the stream.

  "Do you think Red Hawk can like a girl with that sort of name?"

  "He has liked many who have worse names than that one. Remember the beautiful Nez Percé girl who called herself One Who Sleeps in the Clouds."

  There was a long silence while Blue Sky put wood on the fire and complained that the wood was wet and asked who had gathered it.

  "Sacagawea," Second Wife said.

  "She should not be gathering wood at this time, with Red Hawk returning so soon. She has done well with the hides. She has proven that she will make a useful wife. Now we must think of helping how she looks."

  "Yes, she must look better. Someone chosen to be the wife of a man who will be a chieftain someday, not something wild that's been living in the mountains forever."

  There was another silence, the sound of the kettle being stirred, footsteps. I crawled under the buffalo robe and pulled it over my head. My heart sounded like a woodpecker beating on the roof. Me, the mountain girl, the bride of Black Moccasin's son? Sacagawea, Bird Girl, named for the birds I loved and fed when the snows lay deep and the north wind blew. My head spun with dreams.

  Blue Sky shouted, "Sacagawea, come!" as if she meant it.

  I hurried into my clothes. She was stirring the kettle. She gave me the spoon, an iron spoon. I had never seen such a spoon before I came to live with the Minnetarees. They bought them, and sharp knives too, from the white traders. In the mountains we used spoons made of buffalo bones.

  My head still spun. But I saw clearly in a wonderful vision a big lodge, my own lodge, with twenty or twenty-one places to sleep, at least ten of them for children, set around the walls, each with its own curtains and wooden pegs to hang clothes on. And by the fire a row of kettles and from three poles nearby I saw iron spoons and dozens of knives hanging.

  "Today," Blue Sky said, "we make clothes for you. The thing you wear hurts the eyes. And we will try to do something with your face."

  Chapter Four

  The two wives started on me that morning as soon as I had eaten a bowl of mush and a piece of smoked deermeat. They stood me up beside the fire, stripped off all my clothes, and tossed them away.

  Blue Sky said, "Shoshone men have beautiful horses, which they wash and comb and trick out with feathers. But their women look like the scarecrows we put up in our cornfields."

  "They starve their women also," Second Wife said. "Look at this one. Two of her would scarce cast one shadow."

  "None at all," Blue Sky said. "Likely the sun shines clean through her and comes out the other side and casts not the thinnest shadow."

  Both of the wives were fat—their legs were bigger than my whole body. The Minnetarees had much food. They planted big fields of corn and squash and beans and had a big storehouse filled with smoked deer and buffalo meat and dried ears of corn, which I had never seen before. The corn tasted good if it was mixed with water and cooked a long time.

  The wives called in four women from a different lodge, who were famed in the village as cutters and stitchers. Working as fast as they could, they cut a tunic for me from a beautiful white antelope skin and made a pair of trousers to match it.

  They had me stand on a piece of soft deerhide and cut patterns around my feet with a sharp steel knife. In no time at all I had a new pair of moccasins with yellow beads stitched on them and little drags to flop around and make a whispering sound.

  The next morning the two wives rubbed me all over with bear grease, even the bottoms of my feet. They washed the grease off and covered me with a scented oil that soon disappeared in my skin, leaving the scent of a prairie rose.

  They painted a row of purple dots on my cheekbones and daubed vermilion inside both of my ears. Then they took me outside in the bright sun and gazed at me.

  Blue Sky said, "Who would ever believe that what we see there is a Shoshone?"

  "No one," Second Wife said. "This must be a spirit child who appears before us."

  Blue Sky shook her head. "No, it is not a spirit child we see. This is a dream child, a child we have dreamed, out of, out of..."

  Second Wife found the word. "Out of little."

  They talked together as if I understood nothing of what they said, as if I was not there. So I broke in upon them, politely, though I was angry. "I am what I was before you dressed me up like a doll. I was an Agaidiika Shoshone and I am an Agaidiika Shoshone now. At this moment and forever."

  Blue Sky said, "Red Hawk should be pleased with what he finds here."

  "Red Hawk can be hard to please sometimes. It is more than twenty summers and winters since he was born and he still is without a single wife."

  "It's a scandal."

  "We've never had a hand in things before. Seven of them he has passed by, one a Sioux princess. But now we shall snare him with our little Shoshone."

  "Yes, Black Moccasin took to her when she had a lump on her face and smelled to the clouds. He'll see that his son does likewise."

  "Yes, but what reward do we receive for all of our troubles?"

  "I will give this some thought."

  "Think now. We have little time to waste. Red Hawk appears today. Rewards unasked for fade like morning mist."

  I broke in upon them again, raising my voice. "Who is this man who has had twenty summers and twenty winters and not one wife? How does he look, this one who refuses a Sioux princess? To me he sounds spoiled."

  All of this I spoke in Shoshone except the part "To me he sounds spoiled," which I said in good Minnetaree with a gesture that means "ugly."

  Blue Sky gave me a sharp look. "It is not for you to have thoughts about Red Hawk. You are fortunate if he looks at you twice, even though we have fixed you up. You are fortunate to be taken into Black Moccasin's lodge. That you are not a slave. And two times fortunate that you are not dead."

  I swallowed my anger, but it was there simmering in my stomach. It simmered all day while I sat in the lodge waiting for Red Hawk to appear. The two wives would not let me move, fearing that I would spot my beautiful tunic made of the whitest antelope skin and my moccasins that had beads on them
and drags that whispered, fearing that I would sweat and the paint on my face would run. They would not let me eat lest I spill something on myself.

  The lodge was filled with children who gathered around and stared at me. I sat prettily on two buffalo robes, looking exactly like a princess. I had begun to feel like a princess. But at the end of the day, just as I looked up and saw a star peering through the smoke hole, I heard the thud of hoofs, many of them.

  Blue Sky put me on my feet, straightened my tunic, and dabbed some more paint on my face and in my ears. Second Wife brought a pair of moccasins, feathers, and shells and handed me a needle.

  "Sew," she said. "It is necessary that Red Hawk sees that you're useful as well as a decoration."

  Red Hawk burst through the door, Black Moccasin's arm around him, and gave out a mighty screech: "Ayee, ayee, aaagh!" The children and the wives ran to greet him. Outside, people clamored at the door. Sitting by the fire, I sewed and stitched on the moccasin.

  He was tall and thin and very light-colored, like his father, like all the Minnetaree warriors. His hair was black as a blackbird's wing. It hung to his shoulders and swept out like wings as he swaggered to the fire.

  There was a hush until he spoke. Then, while he told about how he had brought home enough buffalo meat for two long winters and how he and his men had captured ten Pawnee women and children, the wives kept up a chorus of how brave he was. They clapped their hands and sang something that sounded foolish.

  He never looked at me once. But when he had finished his speech and marched outside to repeat it to the crowd, he darted a glance in my direction. One glance and that was all.

  It was toward nightfall and a pine tree was burning. Pine, which has a lot of resin, makes bitter smoke. Some of the smoke went out through the roof hole. But most of it stayed in the long house. Running Deer stood close to me but I could barely see her face.

  Black Moccasin was by the fire, his favorite place. His wives were busy cooking supper and the children were playing outside. Running Deer spoke softly though no one was listening.

  "I have found a way," she said.

  "A way to what?" I asked.

  "To flee, to go home."

  I had seen her in the village, but this was the first time we had talked together. I was surprised that she had come to see me.

  "Home?" I asked. "Many of our people are dead. Can you find those who live?"

  "I will go and look."

  "But why? You have not been harmed by Black Moccasin and his people. You have plenty of food to eat. Winter is near. You will die on the trail."

  'You like it here," she said. "You are comfortable here. You live in the chieftain's long house. You eat good food. You never think of the old days, but I do. They are never out of my mind."

  "It is useless to think of them. They are gone. I will talk to Black Moccasin and perhaps he will take you into his lodge. I know he will."

  "I do not wish to live in Black Moccasin's lodge."

  "But how can you ever find your way home?"

  "The people are hunting buffalo now. They will be near the place where we were captured. Remember how I left signs along the trail? I will find the signs."

  Her mind was fixed. She was a true Shoshone. "I will not go. But I will help you. What do you want of me?"

  "You can save food. Pemmican and smoked deermeat. Enough for ten sleeps."

  "You will need more than ten."

  "And a horse. One of Black Moccasin's horses."

  I saved food for her, a little each day so as not to make the wives suspicious. The horse was more difficult. Black Moccasin's horses were kept in the lodge at night. At last she decided to take one in the daytime.

  At dawn when the herd was driven to the river to drink, we followed it. While I talked to the herdsmen, Running Deer chose one of the best of the herd. She led it into a willow grove and disappeared.

  The horse was not missed until nightfall. By then Running Deer was far out on the trail that would lead her home.

  Chapter Five

  The next day and the next I went around in my antelope clothes. With the purple dots on my cheeks and the vermilion-painted ears and the part in my hair, I went gracefully in my new moccasins that made a sound like the wind in the trees.

  But Red Hawk took no notice of me, though I passed close to him many times.

  One day, as I was coming back from the village spring, dressed now in my old clothes and with a jar of water balanced on my head, he stopped me. In a haughty way, as if he were not the son of Black Moccasin but the chieftain himself, he asked:

  "Are you the girl I have seen?"

  I was able to say, "You see many girls. I do not know if I am the girl you saw."

  He was not pleased. "You carry water in a jar. You sit by the fire and stitch? You're the Shoshone, the one Tall Rock captured?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you speak Minnetaree?"

  "Some. Not much."

  "How much? I gave a speech in your hearing. What did I say?"

  The truth was, I had not listened. Sitting in a strange place among strangers, my cheeks covered with purple dots and the inside of my ears painted crimson, on display before a man it seemed my fate to marry, I could not listen.

  Red Hawk thought I was shy. He asked me again what I had heard. Since my childhood I had heard dozens of speeches by men back from the hunt, so I took pieces out of what I remembered and answered him.

  He seemed pleased, but more with himself than with me. When I had finished, without a word he strode away.

  After I reached the long house and emptied the water I was sent back for more. Now that summer had gone, the spring ran in driblets. Night was gathering by the time I filled the jar again. As I balanced the jar on my head, a hand reached out and touched my arm, a hand with a knife in it.

  "Quiet," Tall Rock whispered.

  I dropped the jar and started to run. The cold blade of the knife pressed against my back. I tried to scream but all that came out of my throat was a gasp.

  "Quiet," Tall Rock said, pushing the knife. "You will not be hurt."

  A horse was tied to a tree near the spring. Tall Rock lifted me to its back and slid up behind. He kept the knife against my back as we circled the village. Fires were burning in all the lodges hut no one took notice except a dog that harked at us and followed at our heels to the northward trail.

  Dark mist dripped from the trees. Tall Rock put his knife away and rode with his arms around me. His breath was hot on my neck.

  "We go to Hidatsa, the village of the good Minnetarees, where I have friends," he said. It was the first warmth I had ever heard from him. "I know the chief of Hidatsa. He is my friend and not a friend of Black Moccasin. He will protect us. We will live in his big village forever."

  I gripped the horse's mane and tried to calm myself.

  The chieftain of Hidatsa was known and hated for his brutal deeds, even by his own tribe. His real name was Kakoakis, but behind his back he was called by a French name, Le Borgne. If a mother wished to scare a naughty child, all she need do was to say, "If you are not careful, the monster Le Borgne will get you."

  There was no moon to see by and twice we got lost, so it was nightfall of the next day before we reached Hidatsa.

  We went straight to Le Borgne's lodge, which was larger than the one I lived in. Its walls were hung with row upon row of scalps and other trophies.

  Le Borgne was stretched out on a buffalo robe beside a fire, eating his supper. He stopped eating but did not move from his bed. He looked up at Tall Rock, then at me.

  He was called Le Borgne because he had only one good eye; the other eye had something over it that looked like a little white curtain.

  Tall Rock talked a long time about the good things he had heard about his friend, Kakoakis, and the chief's many exploits and how much the people in Hidatsa village loved him and how much he was feared and hated by Black Moccasin.

  At last he came to his reason for being in the presence of the
great chief of the Hidatsa Minnetarees, whom he called Kakoakis because he knew that the chieftain did not like the name One Eye, which many people called him behind his back.

  "As you are aware," he said, "your enemy, Black Moccasin, is too ancient to take this girl for a wife. Instead, he has chosen a son to take his place."

  "Red Hawk?" Le Borgne asked.

  "The one who has a large bug in his head."

  "Who talks about himself, even in his sleep."

  "Ai," Tall Rock said. "Black Moccasin has no right to give her away to his son, and the son has no right to take her."

  "No right," Le Borgne said in a high, thin voice that sounded like the lash of a whip. "No right, because you captured the girl." He paused to gaze at me with his one good eye. "A pretty girl. A Shoshone?"

  "Yes."

  "I thought so from the look. Gentle people, but full of craziness if their pride is touched. One of my first wives was a Shoshone, long ago. I could not tame that one."

  The first story I had heard when I went to live with the Minnetarees was about Le Borgne and the Shoshone girl—the one he had in a fit of rage scalped and killed.

  "What do you wish from me?" he asked. "Speak, and it belongs to you."

  "A place for us in your village. Away from Black Moccasin's wrath."

  "You came on horses?"

  "On one."

  "Bring it," Le Borgne said, pointing to a corral in the far end of the lodge.

  Tall Rock went to get the horse.

  "How old are you?" Le Borgne asked me.

  "Thirteen," I told him.

  "Have you been married at some time?"

  "No."

  "Do you wish to marry this one?"

  I hesitated, afraid to answer one way or the other. I was afraid of both men, of Le Borgne especially.

  "You look frightened," he said, lifting himself to his feet. "You don't have to marry Tall Rock. You know this, daughter. I can send him away now, tonight. You will be safe here with Chief Kakoakis."