Chapter IX
I Have a Lodge of My Own
"WHY DON'T YOU get a woman?" Weasel Tail abruptly asked one evening as Talks-with-the-buffalo and I sat smoking with him in his lodge.
"Yes," my other friend put in. "Why not? You have the right to do so, for you can count a coup; yes, two of them. You killed a Cree, and you took a Cree horse in the fight at the Hairy Cap."
"I took a horse," I replied, "and a good one he is; but you are mistaken about the Cree; you will remember that be escaped by running into the pines on Hairy Cap."
"Oh!" said Talks-with-the-buffalo, "I don't mean that one; we all know he got away. I mean one of those who first fell when we all fired into them, That tall one, the man who wore a badger-skin cap; you killed him, I saw the bullet wound in his body; no ball from any of our rifles could have made such a small hole."
This was news to me; I remembered well having shot several times at that particular warrior, but I never had thought that 'twas my bullet that ended his career. I did not know whether to feel glad or sorry about it, but finally concluded that it was best to feel glad, for he would have killed me if he could have done so. I was turning the matter over in my mind, recalling every little incident of that memorable day, when my host aroused me from my reverie: "I said, Why don't You take a woman? Answer."
"Oh!" I replied. "No one would have me. Isn't that a good reason?'
"Kyai-yo'!" exclaimed Madame Weasel Tail, clapping her hand to her mouth, the Blackfoot way of expressing surprise or wonder. "Kyai-yo! What a reason! I well know that there isn't a girl in this camp but would like to be his woman. Why, if it wasn't for this lazy one here-giving Weasel Tail's hand an affectionate squeeze—if he would only go away somewhere and never come back, I'd make you take me. I'd follow you around until you would have to do so."
"Mah'-kah-kan-is-tsi!" I exclaimed, which is a flippant and slangy term, expressing doubt of the speakees truthfulness,
"Mah'-kah-kan-is-tsi!" yourself," she rejoined. Why do you think you are asked to all these Assiniboin dances, where all the young women wear their best clothes, and try to catch you with their robes? Why do you think they put on their best things and go to the trading post with their mothers or other relatives every chance they get? What, you don't know? Well, I'll tell you: they go, each one, hoping that you will notice her, and send a friend to her parents to make a proposal."
"It is the truth," said Weasel Tail.
"Yes, the truth," Talks-with-the-buffalo and his woman joined in.
Well, I laughed, a little affectedly, perhaps, and turned the conversation by asking about the destination of a war party which was to start out in the morning. Nevertheless, I thought over the matter a good deal. All the long winter I had rather envied my good friends Berry and Sorrel Horse, who seemed to be so happy with their women. Never a cross word, always the best of good fellowship and open affection for each other. Seeing all this, I had several times said to myself. "It is not good that the man should be alone," That quotation is from the Bible, is it not, or is it from Shakespeare? Anyhow, it is true. The Blackfeet have much the same expression: "Mat'-ah-kwi täm-äp-i-ni-po-ke-mi-o-sin—not found (is) happiness without woman."
After that evening I looked more closely at the various young women I met in the camp or at the trading post, saying to myself. "Now, I wonder what kind of a woman that would make? Is she neat, good-tempered, moral?" All the time, however, I knew that I had no right to take one of them. I did not intend to remain long in the West; my people would never forgive me for malking an alliance with one. They were of old, proud Puritan stock, and I could imagine them holding up their hands in horror at the mere hint of such a thing.
You will notice that thus far in this part of my story I have substituted the word woman for wife. A plainsman always said "my woman" when speaking of his Indian better half, the Blackfoot said the same: "Nit-o-ké-man," my woman. None of the plainsmen were legally married, unless the Indian manner in which they took a woman, by giving so many horses, or so much merchandise for one, could be considered legal. In the first place there was no one in the country to perform the marriage service except occasionally a wandering Jesuit priest, and again, these men, almost without exception, didn't care a snap what the law said in regard to the matter. There was no law. Neither did they believe in religion; the commands of the church were nothing to them. They took unto themselves Indian women; if the woman proved good and true, well and good; if otherwise, there was a separation. in it all there was never a thought of future complications and responsibilities; their creed was: "Eat, drink, and be merry, for today we live and tomorrow we die."
"No," I said to myself time and again; "no, it will not do; hunt, go to war, do anything but take a woman, and in the fall go home to your people." This is the line of conduct I laid out for myself and meant to follow, But one morning the Crow Woman and I were sitting out under a shade she had constructed of a couple of travois and a robe or two. She was busy as usual, embroidering a moccasin with colored quills, and I was thoroughly cleaning my rifle, preparatory to an antelope hunt, A couple of women came by on their way to the trade room with three or four robes. One of them was a girl of perhaps sixteen or seventeen years, not what one might call beautiful; still she was goodlooking, fairly tall, and well-formed, and she had fine large, candid, expressive eyes, perfect white, even teeth, and heavy braided hair which hung almost to the ground. All in all, there was something very attractive about her. "Who is that?" I asked the Crow Woman. "That girl, I mean."
"Don't you know? She comes here often; she is a cousin of Berry's woman."
I went away on my hunt, but it didn't prove to be very interesting. I was thinking all the time about the cousin. That evening I spoke to Berry about her, learned that her father was dead; that her mother was a medicine lodge woman, noted for her unswerving uprightness and goodness of character. "I'd like to have the girl," I said. "What do you think about it?"
'We'll see," Berry replied. "I'll talk with my old woman."
A couple of days went by and nothing was said by either of us about the matter, and then one afternoon Mrs. Berry told me that I was to have the girl, providing I would promise to be always good and kind to her. I readily agreed to that.
"Very well, then," said Mrs. Berry; "go into the trade room and select a shawl, some dress goods, some bleached muslin-no, I'll select the outfit and make her some white women's dresses like mine."
"But, hold on!" I exclaimed. 'What am I to pay? How many horses, or whatever is wanted?"
"Her mother says there is to be no pay, only that you are to keep your promise to be good to her daughter."
This was quite unusual, to request that nothing be given over for a daughter. Usually a lot of horses were sent to the parents, sometimes fifty or more. Sometimes the father demanded so many head, but if no number was specified, the suitor gave as many as he could. Again, it was not unusual for a father to request some promising youth, good hunter and bold raider, to become his son-in-law. In that case he was the one to give horses, and even a lodge and household goods, with the girl.
Well, I got the girl. It was an embarrassing time for us both when she came in one evening, shawl over her face, while we were eating supper. Sorrel Horse and his woman were there, and with Berry and his madame they made things interesting for us with their jokes, until Berry's mother put a stop to it. We were a pretty shy couple for a long time, she especially. "Yes" and "no" were about all that I could get her to say. But my room underwent a wonderful transformation; everything was kept so neat and clean, my clothes were so nicely washed, and my "medicine" was carefully taken out every day and hung on a tripod. I had purchased a war bonnet, shield, and various other things which the Blackfeet regard as sacred, and I did not say to anyone that I thought they were not so. I had them handled with due pomp and ceremony.
As time passed this young woman became more and more of a mystery to me. I wondered what she thought of me, and if she speculated upon what I might think of her. I had no fault to find, she was always neat, always industrious about our little household affairs, quick to supply my wants. But that wasn't enough. I wanted to know her, her thoughts and beliefs. I wanted her to talk and laugh with me, and tell stories, as I could often hear her doing in Madame Berry's domicile. Instead of that, when I came around, the laugh died on her lips, and she seemed to freeze, to shrink within herself The change came when I least expected it. I was down in the Piegan camp one afternoon and learned that a war party was being made up to raid the Crows. Talks-with-the-buffalo and Weasel Tail were going, and asked me to go with them. I readily agreed, and returned to the post to prepare for the trip. "Nät-ah'-ki," I said, bursting into our room, "give me all the moccasins I have, some clean socks, some pemmican. Where is my little brown canvas bag? Where have you put my gun case? Where—"
"What are you going to do?"
It was the first question she had ever asked me.
"Do? I'm going to war; my friends are going, they asked me to join them"
I stopped, for she suddenly arose and faced me, and her eyes were very bright. "You are going to war!" she exclaimed. "You, a white man, are going with a lot of Indians sneaking over the plains at night to steal horses, and perhaps kill some poor prairie people. You have no shame!"
"Why," I said, rather faintly, I presume, "I thought you would be glad. Are not the Crows your enemies? I have promised, I must go."
"It is well for the Indians to do this," she went on, "but not for a white man. You, you are rich; you have everything you want; those papers, that yellow hard rock (gold) you carry mill buy anything you want; you should be ashamed to go sneaking over the plains like a coyote. None of your people ever did that."
"I must go," I reiterated. "I have given my promise to go."
Then Nät-ah'-ki began to cry, and she came nearer and grasped my sleeve. "Don't go," she pleaded, "for if you do, I know you will be killed, and I love you so much."
I was never so surprised, so taken aback, as it were. All these weeks of silence, then, had been nothing but her natural shyness, a veil to cover her feelings. I was pleased and proud to know that she did care for me, but underlying that thought was another one: I had done wrong in taking this girl, in getting her to care for me, when in a short time I must return her to her mother and leave for my own country.
I readily promised not to accompany the war party and then, her point gained, Nät-ah'-ki suddenly felt that she had been over-bold and tried to assume her reserve again. But I would not have it that way. I grasped her hand and made her sit down by my side, and pointed out to her that she was wrong; that to laugh, to joke, to be good friends and companions was better than to pass our days in silence, repressing all natural feeling. After that, the sun always shone.
I don't know that I have done right in putting all this on paper, yet I think that if Nät-ah'-ki could know what I have written she would smile and say: "Oh, yes, tell it 0; tell it just as it was."
For as you shall learn, it all came right in the end, all except the last, the very end.
You who have read the book "Blackfoot Lodge Tales" will remember that it was not allowable for a Blackfoot to meet his mother-in-law, I fancy that there are many white men who would rejoice if such a custom prevailed in civilized society. Among the Blackfeet a man could never visit the lodge of his mother-in-law and she could not enter his lodge when he was at home. Both were obliged to go far out of the way, to endure any discomfort, in order to avoid meeting at any time and place. This queer custom caused not a few ludicrous scenes. I once saw a tall and dignified chief fall backward behind a high counter as his mother-in-law appeared in the doorway of the store. I have seen a man drop by the side of a trail and cover himself with his robe; and once I saw one jump off a high cut bank, clothes, robe, and all, into deep water, as the mother-in-law suddenly appeared nearby, In the case of a white man, however, this custom was somewhat modified. Knowing that he paid no attention to it, the mother-in-law would come into a room or lodge where he was, but would not speak to him. I had taken a fancy to my mother-in-law, and I was glad to have her come around. After a time I even succeeded in getting her to talk to me. She was a good woman, a woman of great firmness of character and rectitude, and she had brought up her daughter to be like her. The two thought everything of each other, and Nät-ah'-ki never tired of telling how much the good mother had done for her, what advice she had given, how many sacrifices she had made for her child's sake.