THE SUMMER WENT quickly and Angie kept her distance from Elsu. Whenever he tried to talk to her, she immediately left, and soon he gave up trying to strike up any conversation with her. He still smiled when he saw her, and she still ignored him.
She continued to create baskets at a steady pace and it was evident that her craft was becoming perfected throughout the year. Since Halona didn’t want them, she gave them away to different women of the village and they were grateful to have them.
Her 13th birthday came and went while they were at their winter camp, and the spring Sun Dance was another great cause for celebration. With this year’s celebration, there also came much sadness as two hunters were killed during the buffalo hunt. Just before the celebration began, the business of the funerals needed to be taken care of. This was the first burial Angie had seen since her own family was laid to rest. But it was so different than what she had experienced before. The death ritual was not actually a burial, but more of a cremation. The bodies were wrapped in skins, and then their belongings, including their teepee and bedstead laid on top, for their “pilgrimage beyond”. Then all was set on fire to be sent to the Great Spirit and a land beyond the setting sun.
Several days of mourning ensued and then the matter of the Sun Dance took place.
After returning to the mountains, the summer came soon and it was a very hot early this year. Angie was with her friends gathering root bulbs for their evening meal when the dogs in the village began to bark frantically.
The girls all looked up from their work and saw two Shoshone scouts on horseback emerging through the forest at full speed, yelling warnings to the village across the river.
“Arapaho!” they yelled, “Arapaho are coming!”
Kimana, Chocheta and Leotie jumped to their feet.
“Run!” they yelled at Angie. “Run and hide!”
Angie looked frantic, “Why? Where do we go?”
“Come with me!” Kimana grabbed her hand and they ran to the forest behind the village.
As they crouched behind the trees some distance from the teepees, Angie asked, “What is happening?”
“The Arapaho, they want our land!” Kimana told her.
“We have plenty of food and water,” Chocheta explained, “Their land is not so rich.”
The men were mounting their horses, and the women were running into the forest all around them with the children and the old. Angie looked frantically for Halona and then saw her among the other widows.
Soon the horses were being driven into a fast gallop across the river and then they began disappearing through the trees. Angie saw Elsu riding his pony behind this father and the elders. Enyeto and Siwili rode out behind the warriors with all the other young men.
“They’re too young!” Angie said horrified at the thought that they could be killed in battle.
“I worry for my brother,” Leotie started to cry.
Amitola, Chocheta’s mother, knelt behind the girls and put her hands on their shoulders. “Our men are very brave. We must ask the Great Spirit to protect them.”
Amitola led Kimana, Chocheta and Leotie in chanting their prayer. Soon other voices all over the forest began to join in the chanting. Songs for strength and victory could be heard among the chanting.
Angie bowed her head, closed her eyes, and with hands clenched in prayer asked the God of her Fathers for his overwhelming grace and protection of this people.
Please God, she prayed, spare these people. Bring the men of this village home safe. Please keep the Arapaho away and let there be peace again.
War cries could be heard on the air. Clashes of spears on shields and some rifle shots brought fear to the women’s hearts.
Have faith, Angie kept repeating to herself, Have faith and believe God will take care of them, especially the young men. Please God, she prayed, be with them now!
“If the Arapaho come through the trees toward our village,” Amitola told the girls, “we must run. Keep your eyes alert and stay with me. I know a cave we can hide in.”
The girls nodded in agreement and could hardly catch their breath as they watched each clearing in the trees. Their hearts were pumping wildly.
The fighting continued for a long time, and Angie thought she would faint for lack of strength as she kept forgetting to breathe.
Tears continued to stream down Leotie’s face, her sobbing uncontrolled. Leotie’s mother found her and hugged her close to her chest. “Siwili and your father will return to us. Do not fear,” she comforted her daughter.
The sun was beginning to go down in the east, and the screams and war cries began to fade away with the light. Then the silence made the women just as fearful as the sounds of the fighting.
They held their places, waiting to see who would emerge from the trees, their husbands and sons, or the Arapaho. They were tired from watching, but they could not tear their eyes away, not now. They must be on guard to run.
The shadows were looming large against the grass and starting to protrude across the river, and then the sound of horse hooves.
“They are coming,” Amitola whispered. The forest filled with women, children and the old, was completely silent. The horses were coming closer.
The women held their breath as the warriors appeared through the trees, and then cries of relief filled the cool of the early evening air. Shoshone warriors were returning, tired, bloody, and wounded, but it was the Shoshone that had won this day.
Angie uttered thanks to her God and jumped to her feet with the others, running to meet the men and young boys as they returned across the river. She searched for all those she knew, for friends and their fathers and brothers.
The women were holding and hugging their husbands, fathers and sons. People were grabbing the wounded off their mounts and taking them to their teepees, calling for the medicine man. At the back of the group came the warriors leading the horses with the fallen dead lying across the ponies’ backs. Cries of dread and grief replaced the sound of cheers as women discovered who had sacrificed their lives for the good of the village.
Angie was relieved to see Siwili, and beside him rode Enyeto. Leotie and her mother ran to Siwili and his father as they returned, tired, but unscathed.
She looked for Elsu but didn’t see him. With all the commotion, she didn’t notice if he had returned with the living, wounded or dead.
Angie found Kimana and asked her if her father had returned alright. “Yes, he has a few wounds, but he is not hurt badly,” Kimana told her and added, “Dyami, the man I will marry, is alright too.”
“Have you seen Elsu?” Angie asked her.
“No, I only looked for my father and Dyami,” she answered, “We will go to their teepee and see if Chief Nahele and his son have returned.”
Angie suddenly felt a stream of dread flow through her body as they walked through the village toward Chief Nahele’s tent. A lot of activity was surrounding his teepee and people were chanting.
“Why are they chanting?” Angie asked.
“Someone is wounded or someone is dead,” Kimana told her.
They stood beyond the adults and waited to hear word of Chief Nahele and Elsu.
Then Chief Nahele emerged from his teepee. “My son, Elsu, fought the Arapaho and won. He shall live. His wounds are deep and he will need much rest.”
Angie’s heart leapt in her chest. She was not in love with Elsu, but he was her friend and she thanked God for bringing all those she knew home alive.
Twelve brave warriors died that day and the mourning continued for four days before all the dead were prepared for their pilgrimage and the funerals were completed.
As another week went by, news came that Elsu’s wounds were healing. One arrow had found its mark in Elsu’s side and another in his shoulder. He had lost a lot of blood, but no vital organs had been damaged.
Kimana and Leotie found Angie returning from the river with her washing that morning.
“We are going to take a gift to Elsu,” Kim
ana said as she held some flatbread and Leotie had flowers in her hand. “Come with us.”
“I will bring a gift too,” Angie said and placed some berries and a couple prickly pears in one of her baskets. She was a little hesitant about going, but wanted to be a friend to Elsu.
When the girls arrived at Chief Nahele’s teepee, he was sitting out in front with the elders, talking and smoking pipes with them. Elsu’s mother, Eyota, was inside, tending to Elsu’s wounds.
As they waited for Eyota to emerge from the teepee, Angie overheard the elders talking about the wagon train that had come through the land several days before.
A wagon train, Angie heard the words repeat themselves over and over again in her mind. Her heart leapt in her chest and she had the sudden urge to run and chase after the pioneers. The old familiar images of people of her own culture reminded her how much she missed her past. She tried hard to keep her feelings under control, knowing that the wagon train had already moved on and it would not be possible for her to find them.
Just then Eyota emerged from the teepee and gave permission to the girls to give Elsu his gifts. Elsu struggled to sit up when he saw the girls enter his tent. They each took turns setting their gifts down in front of him. Elsu’s eyes stayed on Angie and he held the basket in his hands. She shied away and stood behind her friends.
“We had better go,” Angie said.
“Stay,” Elsu said, “I wish you to stay and talk.”
The girls sat on the floor near his bedstead and Kimana did most of the talking. Angie responded only when asked a question, and Leotie only smiled, her shy side taking over.
Angie was uncomfortable because Elsu kept staring at her, and she wanted to leave. She suddenly, jumped to her feet and said, “Halona needs me. I must go now.”
Angie found herself on the outside of the teepee before she could utter another word. She quickly began to walk away toward her camp.
“Wait!” Kimana called after her. “We are coming!” Kimana and Leotie came running up behind her.
“Why did you leave so fast?” Kimana asked her.
Angie shrugged her shoulders.
“I think Elsu likes you,” Kimana continued.
Again Angie shrugged her shoulders. Kimana realized that Angie didn’t want to talk about Elsu and thought Angie liked him too.
“Come with me,” Kimana told her, taking her by the hand. “There is someone I want you to meet.”
They walked to the other side of the village and stopped in front of a teepee. There Kimana called, “Dyami!”
A young woman came out of the teepee and glared at Kimana, saying, “He is not here. He is hunting.”
She was obviously pregnant and looked ready to bear her child soon.
“I will come back another time,” Kimana told her and the young woman turned and went back inside the teepee.
“Who was that?” Angie asked.
“That is his Dyami’s first wife, Takhi,” Kimana answered as they walked away.
“He is already married?” Angie was shocked.
“He married Takhi many years ago,” Kimana told Angie. “They are finally blessed with a child.”
“If he is married, how can you marry him?” Angie did not understand the Shoshone practice of several wives in a family.
“Many men die in hunting and in battle,” Kimana tried to explain, “There are few men for many women. So that a woman will be cared for, many women marry one man.”
“Do you like Takhi?” Angie asked her.
“She loves Dyami and does not want him to marry again,” Kimana understood her situation.
“I am concerned for you,” Angie told her.
“Why?!” Kimana reacted in surprise. “This is the way of the Shoshone. She will accept me the same as I would accept another wife if Dyami marries again after me.”
Angie shook her head and knew that she could not accept this arrangement for herself. She would not share her husband if she were ever to marry. That was not the way of her culture and she became even more determined to be true to her own heritage.
“I do not understand why you fight against this belief,” Kimana said to Angie, “it is the natural way of life. Look at the animals. The buck has his many deer in his herd. The buffalo fights for his females and has many. This is also the way of the Shoshone.”
“You may believe what is best for you,” Angie answered, “Just as I will believe what is best for me. I was raised with the teaching of one woman for one man, and they married because they were in love. That is what I want for my life.”
Now it was Kimana’s turn to shake her head, “I do not understand the silly teachings of the white man.”
Angie took offense to Kimana’s words, but decided it was best to keep the offense to herself. She didn’t wish to argue the subject any longer and returned to her teepee to work on her basket.
How different are these people. Angie thought, How different, and yet so much the same. The love of family, the kindness, the stubbornness, the fear, the bravery, and the teachings that each culture accepts as natural. Is this why people oppose each other? Is this what causes fighting and dissention? How sad. How sad are the differences. How sad are the conflicts they cause.
The Baby