Micheal

Michael was my friend. Michael died saving my life.
Michael row the boat ashore … sister help to trim the sails … the River Jordon is chilly and cold … chills the body but not the soul … the river is deep and the river is wide … milk and honey on the other side …
I can only hope that Michael has found his milk and honey.
This is the story of Michael.
Michael and I grew up together. We went through grade school together. Then on to high school, where together we stayed. Neither of us wanted to pursue a “higher” education, so we decided to travel to broaden ourselves, as the terminology was in those days. At that time, we thought good would always win out over evil. But we were yet to be taught our lessons of the real world. Evil does sometimes triumph over good.
Michael James was six feet tall. He had straight blonde hair and blue eyes. The bluest eyes I ever did see. If limpid means clear as I think it does, then Michael’s eyes were limpid pools of blue. The color was that of the sky, perhaps a little lighter. Upon meeting Michael for the first time, one was taken aback by his eyes. They did not bore into your soul; they lit up your life. Then there was his smile. I knew Michael for many years and I don’t think I ever saw him without that shit-eatin’ grin on his puss. And that grin, and its persistence, was amazing, given the fact that Michael suffered from a skin problem. He had large red patches on his skin, including his face. They came and went. I thought the name of the disease was Psoriasis, but I’m not sure.
Michael had no mother. She died when he was quite young, before I knew him. He had no siblings; he was reared by his father, which is probably the reason I am alive today. By that, I mean he was raise to be a man. He was taught “The Code” of real men. Which is, “You do what you have to do.”
Michael row the boat ashore …
Though we both had the travel bug, my case was more pronounced than his. During the summer between our junior and senior years of high school, I took off and bounced around the country while Michael held down the fort, so to speak. When I returned to finish my last year of school, you see at that time I still bought into the myth that you needed at least a high school education to survive in the world; I regaled Michael with tales of my adventures.
Well, after hearing what a wonderful world awaited us out there, Michael could not wait to hit the road. He wanted to leave immediately, and seeing as how I had just come in from a three-month run, I prevailed upon him to wait a few months and allow me to at least try to get my diploma. He said he would wait, but he did not, or he could not. Within six weeks of my return and within five weeks of the new school year Michael was on the road.
… the River Jordon is chilly and cold …
Michael was hip, and the only place for a hip guy to migrate in 1968 was San Francisco. And that was the end of Michael’s roaming. He fell in love with the city. Michael did roam a little after that, but only at my insistence.
I endured my senior year as long as I could, but two weeks before graduation I said, “The hell with it,” stuck out my thumb, and headed for San Francisco to rendezvous with my friend. When I arrived, I didn’t know where Michael was living, however I knew if I hung out on Haight Street long enough I’d see him. It took less than two hours.
This will tell you something about my friend Michael … he always had a place to live out there, and never paid rent. People were always asking him home, and once there he just moved in. They were always glad to have him. And when I would hit town, he’d take me to wherever he was living and tell me to make myself at home. The person who actually owned the domicile never looked askance when he brought me through the door, they all loved Michael, and any friend of Michael’s …
… it chills the body, but not the soul …
For the most part Michael stayed in San Francisco. I however, could not stay in one town for more than a few days. I was like a pinball, rebounding from coast to coast, and from Canada to Mexico. While on the road I was alive. When on the road I interacted with humanity, and I had to live by my wits. I loved being on the road. Because of Michael’s reluctance to leave San Francisco I had two homes, one on each coast. My mother’s in Miami, and wherever the hell Michael was staying at the moment in San Francisco.
On one of my forays to San Francisco I was introduced to Linda. The love of Michael’s life, his soul mate. They had met at a Clint Eastwood marathon. A movie house was playing the three Sergio Leone films; you know, A Fist Full of Dollars, For a Few Dollars More, and The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly non-stop, twenty-four hours a day. Michael had a bag of Red Acid, and in 1969 what girl wouldn’t swoon toward a man who was into Clint Eastwood, and had a bag of LSD? It was love at first sight.
… sister help to trim the sails …
Now that Michael had himself a woman, he got his own digs. Every time I hit town they were living in a new place. It wasn’t always easy to find them. But somehow we would always meet up on Haight Street. I stayed with them on Geary Street in the Tenderloin. We stayed south of Market in the low rent district, we stayed across from Golden Gate Park, and at the end we were in the Haight-Asbury district.
One thing I must tell about Michael so you can get a sense of the man. And yes he was a man, though we were the same age, he was a man, while I was just a kid. I think Michael knew he did not have much time in this world. He could not wait for anything. Back then we were doing acid all the time. Now normally you would swallow a pill and wait for it to take effect. But not Michael, the twenty minutes it took was just too long for him. He had to shoot the acid into his vein to get off instantaneously. And of course Linda and I would have to follow suite or there would be no peace. And in those days I just did not have it in me to stick myself with a needle. Michael did the honors.
… the river is deep and the river is wide …
The last time I came into San Francisco and saw Michael and Linda together was in 1970, it was July. They were living in the Haight. It was a crummy neighborhood, the Summer of Love was three years gone by then, All the shops on Haight Street were boarded up with sheets of plywood, and the denizens of the street were the leftovers from that long ago summer.
True to form, it was not Michael’s apartment he took me to; he and Linda were living with a guy named Bobby. Bobby was a likable enough fellow. He just didn’t know bad men when he saw them. Bobby had set up a “drug” deal to buy two pounds of marijuana. Nowadays it seems ridiculous to term buying two pounds of pot a drug deal, but in those days that was heavy shit.
It was my first night in town and we were sitting in Bobby’s pad smoking a joint when Michael told me he was going to be a father. I looked over at Linda, she was radiant, and she was also blushing. I was just about to say something appropriate when the door crashed in, and two guys burst through the entrance. They were the assholes that Bobby was supposed to buy the pot from.
Michael row the boat ashore …
Only one of them had a gun, but that was enough for us. When told to lie on the floor we did so without protest. They then said to Bobby, “Where’s the cash?” Bobby answered, “In my pocket.” The guy covering us with the gun told the other guy to get the money. Bobby, trying to be helpful, reached into his jeans’ pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. Then it seemed like a lot, but now as I look back on that night, it couldn’t have been more than $500.00.
As soon as the money was in the asshole’s hand, the other one with the gun walked over to Bobby, placed the gun to the back of his head, and killed him. Upon hearing the shot, Michael and I looked at each other and knew we were next.
… the river is deep and the river is wide …
Before I could think of anything to do, Michael bounded to his feet and rushed the guy with the gun. When I saw Michael go into action it released me from my paralysis. But not soon enough to save Michael. He took a bullet to the chest. While Michael was being shot, I picked up a lamp from a table and smashed it over the gunman’s head while his partner stood frozen in place.
…it chills the body, but not the soul …
The man with the gun went down hard and the gun fell from his hand. All this went down fast; I did not have time to think. I picked up the gun from the floor while the other guy still stood frozen. Obliviously they were not professionals, though at the moment that did not enter into my thinking. I aimed the gun at the one standing and shot him dead with two shots. Then I turned to the one on the floor, he was moving, about to get up when I put a bullet into his head.
… sister help to trim the sails …
By the time the second one fell to the floor, Linda was bent over Michael. I dropped the gun and went to them. He looked at her and smiled, then he looked at me and said, “Get her out of here.” We both, Linda and I, said at the same time, “No!” Then Michael died.
Michael row the boat ashore …
It took me a full minute, which at the time felt like an eternity, to make a decision. I grabbed Linda by the arms and pulled her into a standing position. She was numb. I told her we had to get out of there; that this was a drug deal gone bad, and there were dead bodies, four of them. I told her prison was no place to have a baby, and Michael knew that. That is why he wanted her out of there.
…if you get there before I do ….

I told Linda to collect everything of hers and Michael’s that might identify them. I had the presence of mind to wipe the gun clean, but not to pick up the cash lying on the floor. Linda could have used it; she had a baby on the way. I took Michael’s wallet. He had never been arrested so I knew they couldn’t identify him by his fingerprints. After I had Michael’s wallet, and while Linda went about collecting her things, I took the time to vomit all over Bobby’s carpet, it was after all the first time I had killed. We left Michael and never looked back. Though it wasn’t actually Michael we left, only what housed that wonderful, brave man.
… tell all my friends I’m coming too …
Linda’s folks lived in New Jersey, so I hitchhiked with her to the east coast. She was in a state of shock and because Michael’s last words, though not implicit, were to look after her, that is what I did. After getting her to her parents, I stayed in the northeast for the next seven months. I kept moving, but would drop in to see her every few weeks. Seven months later when the baby was born, I was there. I was there for my friend Michael. It was a boy and I was asked to be his godfather.
… milk and honey on the other side …
Once Linda had the child, and I knew she was in the goods hands of her parents, I said good-bye. And while I was still on the road I dropped in to see Linda and my godson every few months.
There are three human beings extant on this earth because of my friend Michael James. I am one of them.
Michael row the boat ashore … Hallelujah … sister help to trim the sails … Hallelujah … the River Jordon is chilly and cold … Hallelujah … chills the body, but not the soul … Hallelujah … the river is deep and the river is wide … Hallelujah … milk and honey on the other side …

The End

Boxcars

“There is a chink, a nigger, and a cracker in that car; git ‘em outta’ there. Oh yeah, there’ also a kid in there.” I was the kid. Thus with those words, one of the strangest and most profound adventures of my young life was about to take place.
Have you noticed, when you’re stopped at a railroad crossing and a train goes by that there are no more boxcars? The railroad companies have gone the way of the shipping companies. Containers. The story I am about to convey to you, I don’t think could happen today.
First a little history lesson. Do you know where the term “hobo” comes from? Well, for those of you who do not know, I’m a gonna’ tell ya’. After the Civil War, or the War of Liberation, depending on where your sympathies lie, some of the displaced men who found themselves still alive after the carnage had no home, and no way of making a living. So they took to the highways and byways. To earn their daily bread they would offer to work for a day at the farms they passed. Before long, it was discerned that if they had their own work implements work would come easier. Therefore, one by one, they started carrying hoes. And of course before long they were called “hoe boys.” Now English, being the wonderful, beautiful, and living language that is, it was not long before any itinerant man was called a hobo.
This is how the whole thing started. I was hichin’ east on Old US Highway 90, but back then it was just US 90. I was in the desert of Arizona and the rides were not plentiful to say the least. The last ride had let me out in the middle of nowhere; the only things resembling civilization were the train tracks and a few buildings facing the tracks about a hundred yards to the south of me. And oh yeah, there was a long freight train sitting on those tracks, there must have been a hundred boxcars or more.
My attention was drawn to one car in particular. All the cars were brown in color except one about three quarters of the way back. It was green and the door was slid open. I looked down the road, saw not a car in sight, and decided right then and there to hop my first freight train. After all, it was pointed in the same direction in which I wanted to go. The car I wanted was west of where I was standing, so I walked diagonally from the road to the train. Passing not in front of the buildings, but behind them. When I reached the green car, I threw my suitcase in and then climbed in after it. For a moment, I did not see my traveling companions, but as I looked to my right there they were. Over in the far corner were three men. A black guy, a Chinaman, and a white guy. (I know some of my terminology may not be socially acceptable today, but I’m writing from my perceptions as an eighteen-year old kid in 1968.)
The three were sitting on wooden crates; they may have been orange crates, or apple crates. It’s not important, but sometimes details do matter. They were all about forty years of age. The Chinaman was in the middle, he had a beard that was black, wispy, and sparse. It was about a foot long. He was a bit chubby, wore tan pants, a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his biceps, and brown work boots. To his left sat the black man. He was thin (I couldn’t tell how tall any of them were because they were sitting down.) and had grey though out his hair. He was wearing a white t-shirt, black pants, and on his feet were black high top sneakers, US Keds. The white guy was on the Chinaman’s right. Nothing to report on him except he was also thin, had a big smile, and though I couldn’t tell from a distance, but found out later, blue eyes. Piercing blue eyes that when he looked at you would make you feel as though he had known you all your life. Or, at least that he knew all about you, including what was hidden deep within your soul. He wore blue jeans, cowboy boots, a black t-shirt with a denim jacket over it.
If they were startled, they were over it by the time I noticed them. The Chinaman had a hunk of cheese in his left hand and a small knife in his right. All of them, the cheese, the knife, and his hands were poised over a fourth crate upon which sat a loaf of French bread about two feet long. He then said as I stood in the door of the boxcar, “You want some cheese and bread?”
Well, they may not have been startled, but I was. I thought I would have the accommodations all to myself. After taking a second or two to access the situation, I said, “No thank you,” but walked over to where they were, laid my suitcase on the floor, and sat on it, opposite of the makeshift table, facing my three hosts.
After my butt hit the suitcase the Chinaman said, “Where ya’ headed?” To which I replied, “Miami … Miami Florida.” While thinking, “Is this guy the spokesman for the outfit? The other two had not spoken a word.” Just as I was thinking that thought, the white guy says, “Howdy, my name’s Jake, this here is Ying, pointing to the Chinaman, and that sorry son-of-a-bitch over there is Samuel.” As Jake introduced him, the black guy smiled. They were obviously friends. I nodded at each of them as I learned their names. Then Jake asked, “What might your handle be?” “You can call me Billy, Billy Doyle.” “Hold on there partner,” said Jake, “there’s no last names used around here.” Then he smiled, and that was when I first noticed his eyes.
The cheese Ying held in his hand was square in shape. He cut three, inch-wide slices as Samuel tore the bread into three equal lengths. Each man took bread in one hand, and cheese in the other. And with alternating bites of each, finished their repast. At which time Ying wrapped the remaining cheese in a blue bandanna and placed it in the pocket of a brown, leather jacket that was lying on the floor behind him.
While they were eating I ask if they were hobos. You’ve got to remember, I was young, and this was my first encounter with men who “rode the rails.” I had always pictured hobos as looking more like the old Red Skelton character Freddy the Freeloader. You know, baggy pants and patches all over his clothes. Maybe even a week’s worth of whiskers. However, these guys were clean-shaven, except for Ying, and were cleaner, and better dressed than I was.
When I asked if they were hobos, Samuel spoke for the first time. “An honorable and noble profession. What say you fellow wayfarers? Are we indeed affiliated with those modern day knights of the road?” Jake told me I’d have to excuse Samuel, “He gits a bit long winded at times.” “But my bosom friend Jacob, we have not answered the young lad’s query, and his incertitude as to our status should be addressed,” asserted Samuel. “Kid, I told ya’ he was a son-of-a-bitch,” remarked Jake. However, before I could receive an answer to my perfectly legit question, we heard from outside the boxcar, “There is a chink, a nigger, and a cracker in that car; git ‘em outta’ there. Oh yeah, there’ also a kid in there.”
This is where we came in. Before the “bulls” had a chance to stick their mugs into the car, The Three were gathering their meager belongings and heading for the door. I jumped up and scrambled after them. Just as we reached the door two men appeared, and one of them, looking up at us said, “Okay boy’s git off.” One by one we exited our little, and unfortunately temporary, haven. I was the last to disembark. My buddies were already a few steps ahead of me when I tried to catch up with them. But something was holding me back. It turned out to be one of the bull’s big mitt wrapped around my left bicep. “Hold on, not so fast.” When they heard those words The Three stopped, and turned towards the two bulls and me. (Bull is slang for the railroad employees who were charged with throwing freeloading men off the trains.) When the bull saw my compatriots stop as though waiting for me, he said, “This ain’t none of your affair. Ya’ all just keep to ya’ own business and move along.” Jake looked at me and winked. Then The Three, in unison, turned and walked in the direction the highway.
Now as it turned out, this bull holding onto my arm was all right. He had a son my age serving in Viet Nam. When you’re eighteen you think you’re all grown up and you think the rest of the world will perceive you as an adult. But as I write these words almost half a century later, I know how young I must have looked on that day. The man only wanted to make sure I was okay. He asked about my family and where I lived. When I told him I was in touch with my mother frequently and that I was not a runaway, he smiled. That’s when he told me about his son. He also told me ridin’ the rails was dangerous business. “Not all the bulls are like me. Some, if they catch ya’ will beat ya’ with a club. Some might even turn you over to the county sheriff if there’s a road needin’ work. It’d be thirty days at least. Ya’ see some bulls have an agreement with the sheriff, so much for each hobo they turn over. Kinda’ like a bounty. Then the poor son-of-a-bitch is charged with trespassing and vagrancy. That’ll git ya’ sixty days.” He also told me that jumping off a moving train, even if it was only going five miles an hour, could get my head “busted wide opened.” I told him it was my first and last time catchin’ a freight. From then on it was going be the thumb express for me. He then said I was free to go. After walking ten paces, I turned and he was still standing there with a smile on his face, and then he waved to me. I waved backed, then walked to the highway where I had just been less than an hour previous; I thought two things. The first was, “That I bet that bull back there wishes his son only had to worry about jumping from trains and being beaten with a club. And second, “That was a monumental waste of time. I wonder how many rides I missed while screwin’ around.” But as we’ll see shortly, it was not such a waste of time after all.
About fifteen minutes after my return to the highway, the train started to move. At the first sound of those steel wheels turning on the tracks, my three friends appeared out of nowhere. One minute I was alone on US Highway 90 and the next there they were, on the other side of the road. Jake waved, and as soon as the lone car heading west passed, they walked over to where I was standing. Samuel approached me and said, “We saw you with your thumb out. Have you given up your reservation for your Pullman berth?” I must have looked perplexed because Jake interjected with, “He means if ya’ still want to ride the rails come with us.” None of them waited for a reply from me, the kept moving towards the train. By the time I decided that, “It might be interesting traveling with those guys for a day. See how the other half lived,” they were about twenty yards ahead of me. I picked up my suitcase and ran to catch up with them. I wondered why they didn’t seem to be in a rush. After all, the train was moving. (I later learned that a train hauling that many cars takes a while to get up a “head of steam.”) It was a momentous decision to follow The Three, as I came to call them, for the time spent with them would help shape and define the man I would become.
By the time I caught up, they had reached the train, and were standing there watching the cars go by. Our car, the green one, was about twenty back, and headed our way. The train was only moving at one or two miles per hour. As the green car approached, the three started walking in the same direction as the train. When the car came abreast of us, one by one they tossed their gear through the open door and then followed by hoisting themselves up and onto the floor of the car. When all three were aboard, they stood in the doorway looking down at me. The train was now staring to pick up speed. Jake told me to toss my grip up to him, which I did. Then Ying, who had knelt down on his knees said, “Give me your hand.” I was trotting now, trying to keep up with the car. I stuck out my right arm and Ying grabbed hold of my hand and lifted my one hundred sixty pounds as though I weighed no more than a feather.
Once they got me aboard, we went back to the corner with the crates. However, this time they sat on the floor with their backs against the wall of the car. I followed suit and sat next to Jake. Samuel and Ying were leaning against the side wall, Jake and I against the back wall. Samuel then looks over at me and says, “Young traveler. I could tell from your hesitation you have not availed yourself of this means transit before; you must be careful when alighting onto one of these chariots. I saw a man slip and fall beneath the wheels as he was trying to effect ingress into a conveyance of this type. He lost both his legs. Furthermore, exiting while moving, no matter how slow, is difficult at best; and bone breaking at its worst.” Jake intervened with, “Don’t worry kid, we’ll show ya’ the ropes.”
After that, no one spoke. Ying cleaned his fingernails with the knife he had used to slice the cheese. Samuel took a paperback out of his back pocket and started to read. Jake, well I don’t know what he was doing. If I didn’t think it highly unlikely, I would have said he was meditating. Me, I got tired of trying to look cool in front of The Three and walked over to the door, sat down with my legs dangling over the side, and watched the desert pass by.
I don’t know how long I sat there by myself before Jake walked over and sat down beside me. Once he got his long legs dangling next to mine. (I can now report on the height of each of The Three. Jake was tall, about two inches taller than my six foot frame. Ying was about 5’8” and Samuel was my height.) Jake didn’t say anything for the longest time. We just watched the scenery swiftly go by. Finally he said, “You in a rush to git where ya’ goin’?” Now I had told them earlier, when asked, that I was going to Miami. Actually, I did not know where I was headed. I was allowing myself to be blown along on the winds of chance. Like being picked up by someone who says to me, “I’m heading to New York to catch Janis Joplin at the Fillmore East and I’ve got an extra ticket. Wanna’ come along?” Things of that sort were always happening to me in those days. But if nothing interesting turned up by the time I hit the east coast, I’d hang a right and head for Miami for a visit with the folks. So, my answer to Jake’s question was, “No, I’m in no rush to go anywhere, not really.”
“Well,” said Jake, “me and the boys thought we’d extend an invite for ya’ to tag along with us for a while. Kinda’ show ya’ the way of the road. Teach ya’ things that took us time, a whole lotta’ time, to git through our thick heads.” As he said that, we were both looking out at the desert. I turned my head to look at this man I had only met an hour ago, and informed him that I had been on the road for over a year, and I had learned a few things along the way. He just smiled and said, “Boy, there are roads and there are roads. If ya’ not interested then I’ll bother you no further.” “Hang on Jake, you’ve got me wrong. I’d be honored to accompany you three, and I thank you for the invitation. I just wanted you to know that I’m not entirely wet behind the ears.” “Okay Billy. It’s Billy right?” “Yes.” “Why not come over and sit with us, and we’ll talk.”
When we got back to Ying and Samuel, Jake nodded at them. Well, at Ying anyway, Samuel still had his nose in the book he was reading. As we sat down Samuel looked up, so I had a chance to ask him what he was reading. “Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath. You ever read it?” “Yeah, about a year ago. I liked it. I also read East of Eden, but I just didn’t get it.” Samuel just looked at me and slowly shook his head. “I understand, I read Eden when I was your age, and like you I did not appreciate the writing, the story telling. May I suggest you reread it in a few decades? I think you will have a whole new take on it once you have some life under your belt. However, we were discussing The Grapes of Wrath. This is my third reading. I love this book, it is writing at its best. But what I love most about it is the last page. When Rose of Sharon bends over the dying man, you remember, the man who had not eaten in a week or more? He had given what little food there was to his son. Well, when she kneels down to his prostrate body, unbuttons her shirt, and starts to give the milk that was intended for her baby that had been still born less than a few hours before … man, that got to me. If I were not a man, I would have cried.”
I noticed that he was not speaking in the affected manner he had used earlier. I think he read my thoughts because he said, “You’re wondering why I’m not speaking like Mr. La De Da any longer, aren’t you.” “I guess so. You do sound different.” “I only speak that way around strangers, never with friends.” So, there it was, I was accepted. I had made three new friends that day.
It was early morning when I first met The Three. As we sat talking and looking out at the cactus plants and Yucca trees, their shadows shrank from their western side until they disappeared altogether, only to reemerge on the eastern side. A small, timid shadow at first, but as the day lengthened, so did the shadows of the cacti and the Yuccas. Soon they would be as long as their more substantial partners were tall. Then they would die for the night, only to be reborn the next morning.
When the shadows had gotten as long as they were likely to get, I asked what we were going to do about something to eat. Ying offered what was left of the cheese. I was mighty hungry by then, but if I was going to eat alone, I’d rather not. And as no one else spoke up and said that the cheese was a good idea, I politely thanked Ying and said I would eat when everyone else did.
Because the light was fading, Samuel had put his book away. He looked at Jake and asked, “What time you figure we’ll hit Lubbock?” “I reckon we’ll be in just about suppertime.” Upon receiving his answer, Samuel turned to me and said, “We’ll be leaving this comfortable abode in Lubbock. This train heads to Chicago from there. After a night to replenish our selves and our stores, we’ll catch the 108 the next morning; it will be heading east to Dallas. Then the 310 to Little Rock and after that it’s old 19 to Atlanta where we’ll spilt up.”
I thought what I had just heard was amazing. How did this guy know the timetable of freight trains? Did freight trains even have timetables? So I asked Samuel, “How the hell do you know a given train will be there waiting for you when you arrive in a city?” “Freight trains have a tighter schedule than passenger trains. There are goods on them that people have bought and paid for. And those same goods have to get out and be sold again for the railroad company’s customers to make a profit. If their customers don’t make money, the railroad doesn’t make money. If there are delays, people will use the teamsters and their trucks to get their goods to market. So the trains are very dependable. And you shouldn’t hop a train unless you know where it’s going. That is your first lesson my young friend.”
Jake and I sat in the doorway looking at the desert, the stars, and the lights of the small towns as we passed. For by then it had gotten dark. I asked Jake what Samuel and Ying were up to; it was too dark inside the car. I couldn’t see into the corner that we had made our headquarters. “Knowing those two, they’re probably asleep. They can sleep in the damndest places, and under the damndest circumstances.” I had been wondering what Samuel meant when he said they, or, I guess now it was we, were going to split up when we got to Atlanta. So I asked Jake, “Don’t you guys travel together?” “Sometimes we do, like now. Guys on the road are basically loners, but no matter how much ya’ like being alone, sometimes it’s good to have a partner to chew the fat with.” I just had to ask, “Where are you going, where are they going?” “Well, Ying is going to New York, and Samuel will be staying in Atlanta. Me, I haven’t decided yet. We just ran into each other at the stop before we meet up with you. We’ve known each other for a while now, but the three of us haven’t been the in same place at the same time for maybe two, two and a half years now. I ran into Ying about a year ago and we traveled together for a few days. But Samuel and I haven’t seen each other since the last time the three of us were together.”
About then the train was slowing down and Ying and Samuel joined us at the door. Jake stood and said, “We better get our gear, meaning him and I, the others were standing there, grips in hand. After we returned to the door, I was asked by Samuel if I had ever jumped from a moving train. I had to admit that I had not. “Well,” said he, “here are lessons two and three. Always leave the train before it gets into the yard. If not the bulls will see you and then there’ll be hell to pay. Next, when jumping from a moving train, toss your grip out first. Don’t try to jump with it; you’ll need both your hands. Then sit down like you were before with your legs outside. Then place your hands on the floor on either side of your body and push off. It’s going to be hard to keep your balance, but after the first few times you’ll get the hang of it. Just remember to push off as far from the car as you can. You don’t want to slip under any wheels.” By then the train had slowed enough so we could jump off without killing ourselves. Then Samuel threw his bag out the door, sat down, and said, “Watch how I do it.”
After the three of them were on the ground it was my turn. I did everything I was told but still landed flat on my face. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I had been closer to the ground, but my feet were a good four feet in the air when I launched myself from the car.
Once we collected our gear and got away from the yard, Jake told me it was time to forage for some vittles. “Did you just say vittles?” asked Samuel. “He sure as hell did, I heard him,” affirmed Ying. Ying then added, “Okay Mr. Vittles, you take the kid. Me and Samuel will meet you at the jungle.”
To be concise and succinct about it, the foraging for food took the form of going to the back doors of houses and asking for a hand out. Now I did the same thing on occasion, but my modus operandi was restaurants, or more precisely, a restaurant’s back door. Anyway, I was told by Jake the best pickin’s were in the poor section of a town. He said, “You never get turned down. Then next were middle class neighborhoods. You stand a fifty-fifty chance in that neck of the woods. And then last are the rich neighborhoods. Unless the cook answers the door you might as well forget about getting anything outta’ that house. Ain’t it funny that the people with nothing are willing to share the little they have? While those with everything are afraid to part with even the slightest bit of what they have.”
We got what we did by Jake telling the people I was his son and we were going to Florida to pick oranges. After hitting three houses, we had all that we could carry, so we headed for the “jungle.” Jungle, as in hobo jungle. Now in the 30’s during the depression every town and city had a hobo jungle, usually on its outskirts. In those days, depending on the size of the town, the denizens of any given jungle could number from twenty to close to a hundred. However, in the late 60’s the number rarely exceeded five or six. In the jungle Jake brought me to outside of Lubbock Texas there where eight of us. The Three, four others, and me.
By the time Jake and I reached the camp, which is how Jake refereed to the hobo jungle, Ying and Samuel were there waiting for us. It had been a good foraging expedition. A couple of cans of soup, a large can of baked beans, various portions of assorted chickens, both fried and broiled, a tub of homemade potato salad, and the piece de resistance, a bottle of bourbon. Jake asked, “Where’d you guys get the booze?” Samuel answered with, “Don’t include me in Ying’s larceny.” In his defense, Ying claimed an altruistic motive in procuring said booze. “You see, it was lying on the front seat of this ’59 Oldsmobile. Now if I had left it there it may have been a temptation to the driver. He may have weakened and started drinking before he arrived home. He might have caused an accident, either from being distracted while taking a swig, or after having become intoxicated. I think freeing that poor soul of temptation is my good deed for the day. Hey, did you guys know I used to be a Boy Scout?” Jake shrugged, Samuel shook his head, and I just looked at the three of them and wondered what I had myself into.
There was a fire going when Jake and I arrived. Sitting around it were our buddies, Ying and Samuel, and four other gentlemen. There was Montana Jack, a lean and weathered cowboy, Stetson and all. Charlie who dressed in a business suit. The only problem was that it was two sizes too big for him, and it was practically in tatters. Then there was Missouri Mike, fiftyish with a full head of white hair with a shock of black just off center on the left side. And last, and probably least, there was Frisco Pete. Yeah, I know, it sounds like a name a bandit would have in a “B” movie. But ‘ol Frisco was a hippie. The funny thing is that he had never been to San Francisco; he was on his way. Of course, he had the prerequisite beard and long hair. And he kept staring at the stars, and saying, “Groovy.” I know what you’re thinking, “What happened to Charlie? Why didn’t he have a colorful handle like the rest? Something like, ‘Cimarron Charlie’. The answer to your question is I don’t know.
After the introductions were out of the way, we settled down to partake of our collation. And I must say, after not having eaten all day, it was one of the finest meals I’ve ever had. Of course, The Three being who they were, insisted that any of the others who were hungry put on the feedbag and join us.
With the meal behind us we sat around the fire like contented potentates of the East, rubbing and scratching our stomachs. Then Jake said to Ying, “Ya’ saving that bourbon for Judgment Day, or ya’ gonna’ break it our before the end of the century?” Ying smiled the inscrutable smile of the Chinese and reached behind him, and pulled out the bottle.
It was then that we heard the rustling in the woods. It came from behind us, and I turned to see what looked like flashlights, maybe two, maybe more, bobbing up and down. A low murmur accompanied the lights. Then we heard the thrashing about and the murmur gave way to voices, men’s voices. In addition, they didn’t sound happy. I got the impression they were not a deputation from Lubbock to present us with the key to the city. And you know what? I was right.
All at once, ten armed me burst into the little clearing in which, until a moment ago, we were enjoying each other’s company and repartee. Most were holding hunting rifles, a few held handguns. However, the one thing all the guns had in common was the fact that they all, and I mean all, were pointed at our merry little band.
We just sat there staring at them, and they stared right back at us. I’m sure our mouths where hanging open. Theirs were not. Finally, after what seemed an interminable amount of time, one of the ten stepped forward and said, “You there by the fire, stand up!” When we hesitated, he added, “I’m talkin’ to you hobos over there. All of you git your asses up!” I looked over to Jake for some kind of guidance. He looked me in the eye and gave me one of his famous shrugs, then he stood up; and the rest of us followed his lead.
When we all were standing, the other nine with the guns, fanned out behind the talker and formed a semi-circle before us. Once his men were in place, the head asshole felt it was time to give his little speech that I’m sure he practiced long and hard in front of his bedroom mirror.
“We don’t want your types in our city. We keep clearing this place out, tellin’ you not to come back, but here you are again. Ya’all just won’t listen.” It was then that ‘ol Frisco the hippie decided to play his ace in the hole. “Excuse me sir, but I’ve never been here before.” The leader turned to Frisco and said, “Shut your mouth!” He stated to turn away, but stopped in mid turn and did a double take. He started walking over to Frisco while telling his men to watch the rest of us. He got to within three feet of Frisco before saying, “Are you in one of them Beatle bands?” Jesus Christ! This was 1968, and this person couldn’t differentiate between an unkempt and dirty hippie and a rock and roller. Okay, I’ll give him that. But back to my story.
I reckon the leader didn’t want, or expect, an answer. He looked Frisco up and down a few times then turned to the rest of us and announced, “Well boys, we’re gonna’ teach ya’ all a little lesson this time. One of you is gonna’ hug a tree and take a few lashes from my friend here, while the rest watch. Ya’ gittin’ off easy this time.” When he said what he had to say, he patted the bullwhip that was hanging from his belt. He then continued, “Now let me see, who’s it gonna’ be?” His eyes, lighted by the fire, and reflecting the flames, looked evil. But I suppose his eyes would have looked evil buying his child (We all know evil men do spawn.) an ice cream cone down at the corner drug store.
The leader looked at each one us in turn. When he came to me he said, “What are you doing here boy?” Before I could answer, Jake stepped in front of me and said, “He’s my son. His ma died this spring and I’m talking him to see his grandmother. He just enlisted to fight in Viet Nam. He’s gotta’ report in three weeks. I lost my job at the plant, so we had no money for a bus, that’s why were here.” The leader responded, “I didn’t ask for no life story.” But you could see that Jake’s bullshit had had an effect on the stupid fuck.
After the exchange with Jake, the leader continued his perusal of the rest of our conclave. Then he came to Samuel. And oh, how did his face light up. A broad smile played across his lips as he intoned, “Boys, I think I found me the perfect candidate for our little lesson tonight.” And then out of the crowd behind him, a voice rang out, “Hey Dick, can’t we hurry this along? My wife says I’ve gotta’ be home to watch the kids by nine, she got a auxiliary meetin’ tonight.”At that point, two things went through my mind. One, what a perfect name for the leader of this bunch. Dick! If I wasn’t so scared shitless, I would have laughed out loud. And two, what auxiliary did that guy’s wife belong to, the Klan’s.
It was at this point Jake figured he better do something, but it sure wasn’t anything I could understand. He leaned into me and whispered, “Follow my lead, keep ya’ yap shut, and do what I tell you without hesitation, and don’t ask any fool questions.” Then he straightened himself, and I waited to see what would to take place next.
Dick, our dear friend, told his men to grab hold of Samuel, though he used a pejorative rather than Samuel’s name. Three men laid their guns against a tree and approached Samuel. Samuel to his credit, did not back up, or even give the slightest indication of fear. Two of the men grabbed his arms, while the third tied a rope to his left wrist. Then they led him over to an old tree. The trunk was about ten feet in circumference. They placed Samuel facing the tree and took his arms so that they encompassed the truck as far as they could go, and then tied the free end of the rope that was already on his left wrist to his right wrist. So this is what Dick meant by “hug a tree.” The three men stepped back to admire their handiwork. Nodding their approval, they retrieved their guns and rejoined the other men.
Then Jake went into his act. He cleared his throat loud enough to get Dick’s attention, took a step forward, and said, “Excuse me sir. I happen to agree with you and your methods. I and my son are heartily sorry for intruding into your fair city. If we had known which way the wind was blownin’ we would have never stopped here for a rest. But seein’ how my boy is about to go off and fight those Godless Commies in the defense of his country, do you think you might spare him the sight of this necessary, but still vexatious act you are about to perform?” Of course Dick didn’t know what vexatious meant. Jake later told me that he used the word because he couldn’t think of another word for horrific, and he didn’t think Dick would have appreciated that particular word.
Anyway, after mulling it over, ‘ol Dick decided to be magnanimous, and granted us permission to leave. When told we could go, Jake again leaned into me and whispered. Get your case and the bottle of booze. Use your case to hide it. I don’t want anyone to see it. Hurry up, we don’t have much time,” and with that he picked up his bedroll and started for the road that ran by the camp. As he passed Ying, I saw him wink. He was moving so fast I had to run to catch up with him. As I caught up with him, I asked if we were just going to leave Samuel there to be whipped. “I thought I told you not to ask any fool questions,” was his only reply.
When we got near the road, we ran into two pickup trucks. “This is what I wanted to see,” said Jake. He opened the door to the closest one, and while taking out a pocketknife he said, “See if the keys are in the other one.” Which is what I did. “Yeah they’re in there.” “Okay kid, we got to move fast if we’re to keep Samuel’s suffering to a minimum. Push that truck out to the road, once there start her up and drive about a quarter mile towards the town. Then pull off to the side into some trees, but keep it facing the road. Be ready to take off in a hurry. And keep the lights out. But first give me that bottle of booze.” He took the bourbon from me. I stood there and watched him open the knife and start to slit the upholstery and pull the stuffing out through the cuts he had made. When the seat and the backrest both had this white stuff that looked like cotton sticking out all over, he unscrewed the top off the bourbon and poured the contents of the bottle all over the seat. As he lifted his head out of the cab of the pickup and saw me, he said, “You still here?” So I went over to the other truck, turned the key so I could put it in neutral, and started to push it towards the road. Half way to the road I turned my head to look back to see what Jake was up to. I turned just in time to see him light a match and throw it into the cab of the pickup.
Whoosh, the goddamn thing caught on fire. But that was all I had time to observe. I had my marching orders and I was determine to carry them out to the best of my ability. Later I learned what happen while I waited down the road. After Jake had a good fire going and there was no chance of it going out by itself, he ran back to the camp. He got there just as Dick had administered the third lash to Samuel’s back. As his arm came back for lash number four, Jake called out that there was a pickup truck on fire down by the road. That stopped Dick in mid motion. His arm fell to his side, and he went over to Jake and asked, “What did you say?” “I said there was a truck on fire down at the road. Just as me and my boy were coming out of the woods, we see three white boys climb into another truck and hightail it out to that county road. Then as we got even with the other truck, flames leapt out at us from inside the truck. She must have a good burn going now.” That was all he had to say. As one, the ten vigilantes stopped pointing there guns at Ying and the others, and ran through the woods from whence they came. Ying told me they were steppin’ and fetchin’ big time. Then he laughed at the memory of it.
However, Jake missed the spectacle of the Great Retreat. He still had his knife opened and in his hand. He went right over to cut Samuel free. Before he had cut half way through the rope, Ying was there with his own knife cutting the rope at Samuel’s right wrist. Jake got through the rope first, and said to Ying, “He’s free, we can take care of that later. Let’s git the hell outta’ here.” Jake helped Samuel; he was weak, while Ying gathered their gear. By going through the woods, they found their way to the truck in which I was waiting. By the way, just as a matter of note, by the time Ying and Jake were helping Samuel out of the camp, our four compatriots were nowhere to be seen.
I did ask Jake why he said white boys had started the fire and stolen the other truck. His answer, “So they wouldn’t go messin’ with no black folk or travelers who may be passing through their shit hole of a town. That was Jake, one minute he was sounding like the dumbest hick the good Lord ever made, and the next he was using words like vexatious and thinking three steps ahead of the rest of us.
The upshot was this. We drove back to the freight yard where The Three got out, I was told to ditch the truck at least a mile form the yard and walk back. We hid out in an abandon shed until our train was ready to leave. During the night we attended to, or I should say Ying attended to, Samuel’s wounds. He had some Chinese shit that he said would fix Samuel right up. And it did. The net day the rips in his flesh did not bleed through his shirt. When the train started to move we ran to it, and one by one, jumped aboard.
As we pulled out of Lubbock Texas, I was thinking that nothing The Three could show me after last night could be anywhere near as exciting. Was I was wrong. We had three more stops on our itinerary, at one, I would be horrified, at another, a mystical experience awaited me, and at the third, well, we never did make the planned last stop. Something came up.
Because we had not slept the night before, we spent that day’s wayfaring in repose. The floor was hard, but surprisingly clean. I awoke in the late afternoon only to find that the others were already awake and sitting at the door watching the world go by; or, at least that little part of it that was known as western Texas. I joined them, and as I was sitting down asked, “So what’s for breakfast?” “We’ll be there in less than an hour. Then we’ll forage before going to the camp,” answered Jake. With Samuel adding, “Hopefully Ying will remove temptation from some poor soul’s car again. I sure could use the help of some spirits. My back is hurting something awful.” Ying looked at Samuel, “I’ll see what I can arrange.” And that was it. None of us spoke until we got to the outskirts of Dallas. Then Jake said, “Okay boys, time to detrain.”
Of course, I fell flat on my face. But no harm done, I stood up and dusted myself off, and said to no one in particular, “I’ll get the hang of it if it kills me.” Well, I’m still here, but I never did get the hang of it. The last time I jumped from a moving train, albeit, a slow moving train, I performed my usual ballet, ending up kissing dirt.
The first neighborhood we reached after leaving the train was a good one for caging food, if not an entire meal, or so I was informed by Samuel, and seconded by Jake and Ying.
We split up as we had the night before. And as we had the night before, I played the part of Jake’s son. Once we had all the food we could carry, and on the way to the camp, Jake told me the “son dodge” was the best. He had never gotten food so easily, and he asked me if I would travel him, at least until I lost my youthful appearance. I think he was joking, or maybe kidding on the square, but I was non-committal nevertheless.
When we reached the camp, Ying and Samuel were nowhere to be seen. However, there were other inhabitants milling about. There was also a raging fire, about three times the size of the one in Lubbock, and sitting around the fire were six men. As we walked up they nodded, but went right back to talking among themselves. Also at the fire, ensconced upon a throne of an old Lazy-Boy type recliner with the white stuffing showing through rips and tears in the fabric, sat an old black man with a full head of white hair. When Jake saw him, he whispered under his breath, “I’ll be goddamned!” I asked Jake who the guy was, but received no reply, probably because he was three steps in front of me hurrying on his way to the man in the chair. Not knowing what else to do, I followed Jake.
When we got closer, I saw that the man’s face was gaunt, he looked downright emaciated. His cheeks were hollow and his cheekbones seemed very pronounced. His head sat upon a thin body and he looked to be about six feet tall, but it was hard to tell because he was sitting down.
When Jake reached the man he said, “Hey Oracle, it’s me Jake!” I was right behind Jake and that is when I observed the most remarkable thing about the man he called Oracle. As he turned his head in Jake’s and my direction, I saw that he had not iris nor pupil in either eye, there was only white showing. The man was blind, totally blind. It was an eerie sight indeed. If not for the broad smile upon his face, I’d say he looked light one of those zombies in a “B” movie from the fifty’s.
As I caught up to Jake and stood next to him, he reached out an arm and laid his right hand on the man’s shoulder, saying, “How you ya’ been old stick?” I didn’t know if he was referring to the thinness of the man’s body, or if stick was a term of endearment.
The man, Oracle, kept his smile, nodded his head, and exclaimed, “Jake, you old shit-kicker, when did you blow in?” “Just got here. You been here long?” “Me and Marvin been here two days. Probably leave tomorrow. We’re headin’ for sunny California.” “Oracle, I want you to meet a young protégée of mine. I’ve been teaching him the ways of the road. Well, with a little help from Ying and Samuel.” “Are those sons of bitches here too?” Yeah, they’ll be along presently, but this here is Billy. He hasn’t even hit his majority yet and he’s out hoppin’ freights.” Oracle extended his right hand, I did likewise, and we shook hands. “Glad to meet ya’ Billy. Any friend of Jake’s is a friend of mine.” I verbalized the same sentiment by saying, “Same here.”
After the conclusion of the introduction, Oracle invited us to have a seat and take a load off. Then he said, “Marvin’s out cagin’ us some eats, why don’t you fella's join us?” Jake replied, “We just came in from a foraging expedition of our own, we’ve got plenty.”
Eventually Samuel and Ying walked into the camp. When they saw Oracle, they had the same reaction that Jake had. They rushed to him, shook his hand, and shot the shit for a few minutes. Then it was time to eat. Ying and Samuel laid their plunder next to our plunder, and I must admit between the four of us we made quite a haul that night. We were discussing what to eat and what to save for the next day when Marvin walked in. Of course, it was a repeat of when Jake had first spied Oracle. It was old home week. It was then that I found out who the hell Marvin was. When introduced to him, I was told that he was Oracle’s traveling companion. You see, Oracle was in his sixties and Marvin was about thirty. They had hooked up more than dozen years earlier when Marvin was a skinny teenager who had just run away from home and didn’t know the ways of the road; and Oracle’s sidekick at the time had just been hit by a highballer out of St. Louis, killing him instantly, and leaving Oracle without a set of eyes. They’ve been together ever since.
Ying was the chef of the outfit. As he opened cans and put them next to the fire, making sure to turn them every once in awhile so both sides would heat up, he laid out the already cooked food, like chicken, and the slab of meatloaf that Jake and I got from a very nice lady who flirted with him as she wrapped the meatloaf in wax paper. Jake extended an invitation to the other men congregated around the fire. His offer was politely declined. I think they were too busy passing a bottle of rye between themselves to stop for something to eat.
When Jake noticed the rye across the fire, he said to Ying, “That reminds me. Any luck in the booze department?” Ying looked up from his culinary duties and informed Jake that to date he has never let him down and he wasn’t about to start. “Look under my coat over there on the log. You’ll find an almost full jar; I was going to surprise you after dinner.” Jake walked over to where Ying had indicated, lifted his leather coat, and there on the log sat a mason jar. You know the kind they put up preserves in, with the rubber gasket and metal hinge that secures the lid and holds it in place. This jar was about nine inches high and held what looked like water. As Jake held the jar up to the light of the fire he asked Ying, “Where you cha’ get it.” Ying’s answer, “You don’t want to know.”
Jake walked over to where I was sitting and sat down on his heels. He then flipped up the mental hinge, removed the top, held his nose over the opening, and inhaled deeply. Before coming out with, “Mighty fine bouquet.” Turning to me he asked, “Billy boy, you ever had any shine? You ever have any sweet mountain dew?” I had to inform him that I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. “I’m talkin’ about moonshine boy, Nectar of the gods.” “Well, if that what you’re talking about, then no, I’ve never had any moonshine.” “Well, Billy my friend, you are in for a treat. It’s best enjoyed after dinner because to partake before hand, you won’t want any dinner. However, seeing as how you’re a cherry, take a swig, it’ll get the gastric juices flowing.” He then handed me the jar, adding, “Make the first one small; it’ll set your throat afire.” Of course, I’m thinking that I’m cool; I’ve drunk 151 proof Wild Turkey bourbon, so this watery looking stuff can hold no surprises for me.
I didn’t take a small pull as advised. It’s funny that when you’re eighteen you have all the wisdom of the world. You know everything. But as the years pass, that knowledge gets whittled down until you’re as ignorant as the rest of humanity. So knowing all, I gulped a mouthful of 190 proof liquor. I reckon you all know what happened next. It burned all the way down and exploded like a mini A-Bomb in my stomach. I then started coughing and choking, if not for Jake being ready for just such a contingency, the jar’s contents would have been lost. But just in the nick of time, Jake took the jar from my hand, and saved me from spilling the precious liquid onto the ground. If that had happened, I’m sure I would have been ostracized for the duration. All had a great laugh at my expense, even Oracle and the six guys swigging rye on the other side of the fire.
Ying prepared our spread, Marvin prepared his and Oracle’s, and they both rang the dinner bell at the same time. So, when my coughing and the accompanying laughter subsided, we all sat down to a meal fit for a king. That is if the king liked beans, cold chicken, meatloaf, and raw carrots.
I sat next to Oracle while we ate, and he started asking me questions about my life. After we had exhausted all the small talk, he asked what had precipitated my going on the road. I told him it was something inside of me that I had always, for as long as I could remember, wanted to know what was at the end of the road. I told him that as a kid, I would see a train of boxcars sitting on a siding and have the urge to jump into an empty one, and ride the train to wherever it was going just to see what was at the end of the line. He then asked me if I had ever read On the Road by Kerouac. When I answered in the affirmative, he asked what I thought of it. Before answering, I asked him if he knew the story. Him being blind I couldn’t ask him if he had read it. Well, he looked right at me with those sightless eyes and said, “I read the damn book. Does that surprise you?” It sure as hell did. Then he explained that he had read it in brail, you know the raised dots. I don’t think it’s in use anymore, what with audio books and all. “There are books in brail in almost every library. Usually when we hit a town, Marvin and I search out a library, and we’ll spend the day there reading. We can’t check out any books because we’re not members of the community, but we’re both fast readers, and we both love books. And if we’re in a small town with no books in brail, Marvin and I will sit in a corner of the library and he will quietly read to me. But tell me now; what was your take on Kerouac’s Road?” “I guess when it came out in the early fifties it was quite scandalous. But I found it rather boring. I’ve been on the road, hitchhiking, for more than a year and a half, and I’ve had more adventures, been in more weird and bad situations in a week than he experienced the whole time he was ‘on the road’. And it’s no wonder; he took a bus everywhere he went! I mean, how are you going to meet people and get into their lives if you’re sitting on a goddamn bus?” When I had finished speaking, Oracle let out with a good belly laugh and said, “I guess great minds do think alike. That was my take on the book also. I kept waiting for something exciting to happen. I had to stop reading it three quarters of the way through.”
And so it went, we ate, and we talked of books. It was because of Oracle I read Tolstoy, Mailer, and countless others that he said I should check out. He also told me of the ponderous books that would be a waste of time. Authors like Nietzsche and Balzac. “Stay away from Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche and Honoré de Balzac,” he advised. “They’re more long winded than I am, and that’s saying something. “ Of course, I knew of Nietzsche and Balzac, but this guy knew their full names. I’m telling you this about Oracle to give credence to what I am about to relate. I want you to know the man known to me as Oracle was a well read and intelligent man who had spend his life in the pursuit of knowledge. You and I should be as well read and as intelligent.
By the time we had finished eating, the other members of our little assemblage, the guys with the rye, were somewhere out there in the darkness. They had finished their drinking for the night, probably because the bottle had been emptied, and had gone off to find a place to sleep away from the fire and the scintillating conversation. Ying was breaking up a wooden crate and throwing the wood on the fire to build it up when Samuel asked Oracle to tell us a story.
I think I should digress for a moment and tell you what I learned of Oracle the next day as we were Little Rock bound. Of course, Oracle was not his real name. I never did learn the name he was born with; I don’t think anyone knew his appellation. But here are the pertinent facts. According to Jake, Samuel, and Ying, Oracle was gifted with Second Sight. He could tell a man’s past having just met him. He knew the secret desires hidden within, and more often than not, he could foretell the future. I guess they didn’t call him Oracle for nothing. Jake told me he, Oracle, had an amazing track record when it came to seeing into someone’s future. In fact, he was so good at it, he had stopped relaying the information he saw in his visions. That statement prompted two questions, and so I asked them. “What do you mean visions, can a man blind from birth have a “vision?” In turn, Jake informed me that, “All I know is what Oracle told me. He said when he has a vision he is not blind. He sees colors, he told me he knows what blue looks like, what orange looks like, what a rainbow looks like. He told me he sees faces, the faces of the people the vision concerns. He told me of this little scar here, hell, I had even forgotten about it.” And as Jake said that he turned his head and showed me a small scar above his left eye that I had not noticed before.
Then I asked Jake the second question that came to mind when I was told Oracle had stopped telling men of their future. “Why.” “The exact same question I asked him,” uttered Jake. “He told me that once it was known that his predictions where right most of the time, men tended to alter their lives in anticipation of the event prophesized. Oracle told me it was not his intention to influence the lives of men.” (Oracle, Jake, and men like them only had congress with other men. The only time a woman came into their lives was when they were foraging for food, or they were availing themselves of the delights of a working girl, a prostitute.) Then Jake continued, “So even though he still has visions, he keeps them to himself unless it’s a vision like the one he told us about last night.” This gets us to where I wanted to be ten paragraphs ago.
I want to tell you what I heard on that warm summer night forty-two years ago. As the fire lit Oracle’s face, illuminating the white in his eye sockets, we five (The Three, Marvin, and I) sat spellbound as Oracle told us of the entity we know as God, and the creation of this universe. In the over four decades since I first heard this tale, I have not forgotten a single word. Therefore, I am able to retell the man’s words even though that man has returned to the dust from whence he, and all of us, came. However, as you’ll shortly see, there is no such thing as death. We are immortal, we are gods!
So here it is, verbatim, with just a short set up; make of it as you will.
I sat across the fire from Oracle with Ying and Jake on my right, and Samuel to the left of me. Oracle sat in his chair facing us. Marvin sat on Oracle’s right. The fire, as I’ve said, lit his face. He sat with his arms resting on the armrests of the chair. Picture the Lincoln Memorial. If he had eyes, he would have been looking slightly over our heads as he began to speak.
“Every culture has a creation myth. Ours is that the world was created in six days, and Adam and Eve. The Apache Indians have Changing Woman who was impregnated by the sun and gave birth to Nayé Nazghane, Slayer Of Monsters. However, I would like to tell you guys how we got here and why. If you like, you may call this Oracle’s creation myth.
“In a place of no time and no space existed an entity. As far as the entity knew, it just was, and always was. This entity knew it was a part of something greater, but did not know what.
“Before our universe in which we inhabit existed, before time existed, It was. It is known as The First State. Within the entity were the powers of creativity and It knew of their existence, but the ways to produce them were unknown to It. The entity existed in a State of Being, but without a means to find expression for that Being.
“We were within Its dreams, and while still within Its dreams, It gave us consciousness. The entity felt pressure from us, the conscious, but still probable selves who found ourselves in a God’s dream. To release us would give us actuality, but it would also mean losing a portion of Its consciousness. With love and longing, It let us go, that portion of itself, and we were free. We exploded in a flash of creation.
“Now we were in a place of no time and no space. Therefore, we created, along with our brother who had dreamt us into existence, time and space. We created our universe.
“Then we populated what we had created with a portion of ourselves. We created the stars and the planets.
“Because we existed in a place of no time, the eons upon eons that it took for the cosmic dust to congeal into stars, and the planets to cool, was less than a day to us.
“To paraphrase the Bible, we looked upon what we had created and saw that it was good. However, we were not done with creating, after all that is why we separated from our brother, we are the expression of Its Being.
“Once the planets had cooled enough to support life, we injected another portion of ourselves into their eco systems. We started the process of life.
“After countless millenniums, the life forms on the various planets were at a stage of development so that we could inhabit them and experience the physical realm.
“Because we are of this star system, of the planet known as Earth, I will speak of the events that took place here. Though similar things took place in other star systems, on other planets.
“At first we would stay only a short while. It was good to feel the wind and the warmth of the star upon the bodies of those we inhabited. To run through the tall grass, to hunt small prey, these are sensations known only on the physical plane.
“Over time we stayed in the bodies for longer periods, we did not leave to go to our place of no time. We did not go home.
“Because time meant nothing to us, we tarried too long in the bodies that we had brought into existence, and some of us could not extricate ourselves when we desired. We were stuck in the physical.
“This was the fall of mankind as metaphorically told of in Genesis.
“The portion of us that stayed in our place of no time came to the rescue of those who could not return. We tweaked the DNA of an animal that today is known as Neanderthal Man. After many generations, what was once Neanderthal Man was ready to house those stuck in the physical. We had created human beings.
“Thus started the process of returning home. Our brother loves all that we have created down to the least. It celebrates the dearness and uniqueness of each consciousness. It is triumphant and joyful at each development of each individual. It revels and takes joy in the slightest creative act of each of us.
“We are those that were here in a time long forgotten. We are the ones who stayed too long in the physical. Each life we live is a step closer to home. Each life, when completed, is a gift to our brother. Our experiences allows it to BE. Our creative acts, as I’ve said, are the expression of Its Being.”
When he had finished, Oracle sat back in his chair, tilted his head skyward, and sighed. I on the other hand, sat in front of the fire, with mouth open. It was a strange tale I heard that night, but one that resonated with my being. His story made more sense to me than the bullshit in the first chapter of Genesis.
It was late by the time Oracle had finished, it was time to sleep, and it was time to reflect on what I just heard. His words started me on a quest, a quest that has lasted almost forty years, and is still on going.
As we got up and made ready to bed down, Oracle, without tilting his head, if he had eyes, he would have been looking at the stars the filled the sky that night, said to Ying, “Ying my friend, there is a bad moon rising, please take care of your yellow ass.” Prophetic words, however, prophetic words that were not heeded. Ying would be dead before our home, the Earth, made another revolution on its axis.
The next morning we said our goodbyes to Marvin and Oracle. And as I shook his hand, Oracle confided in me, “When you’re my age you will write of your youthful adventures, in one of your stories I will be mentioned, make sure you tell your readers how handsome I was,” and then he laughed. Because at the time I had not been told of his Second Sight, I told him that I did not expect to make it to thirty, let alone sixty. He just smiled and said, “You might make it if you keep your nose clean, and play your cards right.”
We jumped the 310 to Little Rock and settled in for the last ride the four of us would take together. 310 refers the number of the locomotive not the time of departure. How those guys knew the numbers of the trains is beyond me. The number of the diesels were not painted on the front as they had been in the old “steam” days.
The only thing of note to report about our trip to Little Rock is that the train pulled onto a siding where we sat for three or four hours. The delay kept us from getting into Little Rock until it was too late to knock on any back doors, so we pooled our meager resources and sent Ying to the nearest liquor store. We had decided to drink our supper that evening. Or The Three did, and I just went along. We waited for Ying to return, and then we set out for Little Rock’s hobo camp.
As we approached the camp, we saw no fire through the trees and heard no voices. “Looks like we got the place to ourselves,” announced Jake. There was a full moon, so we had no trouble finding wood in which to build a fire. Once the fire got going, we four sat around it passing between us the fifth of Jim Beam bourbon that Ying had bought. I sat opposite Ying, and Samuel and Jake faced each other. As Ying tilted his head back to take a deep pull from the bottle, he hesitated and said, "You guys think that moon up there is the one Oracle meant?” “If it is, you better pass that bottle over here before the motherfucker falls on ya’,” exclaimed Jake.
Just then I heard a voice behind me say, “Well well, if it ain’t my old friend Ying Lee.” I jumped about three inches off the ground because there was not supposed to be anyone behind me. Ying stopped looking at the moon and handed Jake the bottle before he said, “Nick Testa, what the fuck ya’ doin’ here?” “Just lucky I guess. I’ve been lookin’ for ya’ pal. Where ya’ been hiding?” By now, Jake and Samuel were on their feet and moving to the voice behind me, which prompted me to finally turn around to look from whence the voice came. What I saw was a man about five and a half feet tall, with maybe three or four day’s growth of beard. He was wearing an old blue suit, no tie of course, and he had in his hand the biggest goddamn handgun I have ever seen. They’re all big when they’re pointed in your general vicinity.
As Jake and Samuel started for him, the man Ying had called Nick Testa, raised the gun and swung it form side to side, telling the two to stop where they were if they didn’t want a piece of the action. Ying then chimed in, “Hey Nicky boy, this is between you and me. Let’s leave others out of it.” It was about that time that I decided to stand up so that I could observe all the participants of the unfolding drama that was taking place. In effect, this guy had us covered. Why he was holding a gun on us I knew not. However, I did know that it did not bode well for my friend Ying once I looked into the man’s eyes. They were filled with hate.
Before we get down to the nitty gritty, allow me to fill you in on what I later learned. The whole confrontment was because of something that happened either three or four years previous, depending on who was telling the story, to the night in question. Samuel swore it was three years, and Jake was just as adamant that the nexus to that night happened four years previously. Regardless of the time frame, this is what brought Nick Testa and his gun to our campsite that night forty-two years ago.
The three of them, Jake, Ying, and Samuel were headed west, just south of Detroit when the train pulled into a yard, or siding, I forget which. The point is the train stopped. It was in the early morning hours and they had been asleep. However, they were awakened by the sound of a suitcase being thrown into the car and slamming onto the floor. The suitcase was soon followed by the dark figure of a man. The Three thought nothing more of it and tried to go back to sleep. Now the thing is there was a mattress in the car when The Three climbed on board. It must have been brought there by an enterprising hobo. It was only wide enough for one, so Samuel took out three wooden matches from his shirt pocket and broke one in half. Then putting them between thumb and forefinger, told the other two to chose. The one ending up with the short match would get the mattress. Long story short, Ying won the right of a comfortable night’s sleep. So when the intruder, climbed into the car, he found the mattress and Ying in the corner with Jake lying next to him, and Samuel next to Jake.
Standing at the foot of the mattress the intruder kicked Ying on the souls of his shoes. When riding the rails, or when in a hobo jungle, you always sleep with your shoes on, it becomes second nature, because if you don’t, you’ll very likely wake up and they’ll be gone. Anyway, Ying ignored the first couple of kicks hoping the guy would just give up and go to his own corner and go to sleep. But that didn’t happen, so finally Ying raised his head and said, “What do you want?” “I want you outta’ my bed.” When he heard that declaration, Ying sat up and informed the man that there must be some mistake. By then, Samuel and Jake were propped up on their elbows listening to, and watching what was taking place in the dim light. When the man repeated his demand for Ying to vacate the mattress, Ying scooted down to the bottom of the mattress and sat there. His head was even with the man’s knees, and without looking up he asked, “Would you please say that again?” But before the man could utter a word, Ying lashed out at him with his right leg, connecting with the man’s left knee.
I was told by Jake that the guy went down fast and hard. All the while yelling and cursing. Jake said his howling was so loud they thought it would bring every bull within miles to their car. With the man sitting on his butt, holding his knee, and rocking back and forth, he was now even with Ying. Even though the light was dim, Ying recognized the man and said, “Nick Testa is that you?” And Testa, then looking at Ying said, ‘Goddamn it Lee, you likely broke my knee!”
Well, it turned out that they knew each other. They had worked together for a summer at a fish cannery in the Northwest. But they never did like one another, or, as it was explained to me, Testa did not have any use for Ying. To quote Samuel, “He was a racist son-of-a-bitch!”
The train stated moving about the same time the two old comrades-in-arms realized they knew one another. At that juncture, Ying raised himself from the bed, stood over Testa, and said, “I’ve got to get my beauty rest, and with you here I wouldn’t be able to close my eyes for fear of waking up with my throat cut from ear to ear.” He then grabbed Testa by the scruff of the neck, well, actually by the back of his shirt, and dragged him over to the open door Testa, had just come through moments before.
When they got to the door, Ying said, “Here, let me help you. Let’s se if you can stand on that leg.” He reached down, and taking hold of Testa under his arms, raised him to a standing position. Ying: “How’s that?” Testa: “It hurts like hell” Ying: “Good!” And with that, he pushed Testa out of the moving car. Then he kicked his suitcase out after him.
Now back to the ranch, so to speak. When we left off, the man, Testa, was holding a gun on us four. More so on Ying than the rest of us. He told Jake and Samuel to move down next to Ying, which they did, though very slowly. Me, I was standing right in front of Testa, about four feet in front of him. He finally acknowledged my existence by saying, “You got no part of this boy, if you want you can leave now.” You know it never entered my mind to leave. Those guys were my friends. The time I had known them did not matter, the depth and commitment of the friendship is what mattered. “No thank you, I’ll stay with my friends,” was the only response I could give and still be able to look at myself in a mirror.
Once we were grouped together on the other side of the fire, Testa took a few steps in our direction. It was then that I noticed he walked with a limp. He stopped about ten feet in front of us and said, “Mr. Lee, I have something to say to you.” Ying informed Testa that he had interrupted his drinking, so get on with whatever he had in mind. “Always the chink wise-ass ain’t ya’ Lee?” Ying just shrugged his shoulders and stared at Testa. I saw no fear in Ying’s eyes.
“I’ve been carrying this hog’s leg Colt since our last meeting. You crippled me and threw me off a moving train. And I aim to get mine back. Now you other fella’s just stay outta’ this. It ain’t no concern of yours. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you interfere.” He stopped speaking for a moment, took a deep breath, smiled, and said, “Mr. Lee if you please, take two steps forward.” Ying did not hesitate. Without looking at any of us, he took, first one step, then the second, but he did not stop there. He rushed Testa and when he was five paces from him, Testa fired. He got off two shots before Ying collided with him and they both went down.
Before they hit the ground, Jake and Samuel were there. Jake wrestled the gun from Testa’s hand and slipped it in his belt. Samuel hit Testa three or four times, right in the mouth. Me, I was frozen in place.
When I could move, I walked over to where Ying lay on the ground. Testa was out cold, but no one paid him any mind. Jake and Samuel were kneeling over Ying. He was flat on his back looking up at us. He had a smile on his face. He also had two bullet holes in his chest. He looked at Samuel, then at Jake, and finally at me. When he saw the horror in my face, he winked at me. Then he died, his eyes still looking at me, but not seeing me. None us moved for a few minutes. Jake closed his eyes, and Samuel took his arms and folded them so his hands rested on his stomach. I was the first to turn away, and when I did, I saw that Testa was gone.
I hurriedly told the others, but got no response from either of them. When I insisted we should do something, call the police so they could pick up Testa, and get an ambulance to take Ying somewhere, I was told by Jake, “No, we take care of our own. First Ying, then Testa. He can’t go anywhere. There are no trains leaving at this time of night. They don’t start until 4:00, 5:00 a.m. We’ve got a few hours to catch up with Mr. Testa.” When I countered with, “Maybe he’s hitchhiking out of town, or walking.” I was told by Samuel, “No, he’ll stay off the streets. He’s thinking we’ve set the cops on him. He’ll hide until he see the first train moving, then he’ll catch it. And then we’ll catch him.” That was it. End of discussion.
“The first thing we need are some tools to bury Ying with. You two prepare him. I’ll be back.” Then Jake walked into the darkness. The fire was getting low, but because of the full moon, we had no trouble seeing what we had to do. Samuel told me to get Ying’s bed roll, which I did. After I handed it to him, he unrolled it and spread it on the ground next to Ying. He then looked up at me and said, “Help me lift him onto the blanket.” I had never touched a dead man before. Well I had, but it was a mummified dead man. Ying was still warm to the touch, so it was more like he was sleeping. Once we had him centered on the blanket, Samuel started to wrap him in it. I stopped him by asking him to wait a moment. I went over to the fire where Ying had been sitting, looked around for a moment, saw what I was looking for and brought it back to where Ying lay. “Think Ying may want this to help him on his journey?” And lifted the half empty bottle of Jim Beam. Samuel agreed and told me it was a great idea. And just when I’m feeling pretty good about myself for having thought of such brilliant scheme, Samuel asked me, “Don’t you think it would last longer if the top was on the bottle?” I hadn’t noticed. I went back and looked for the cap, found it and gave it to Samuel. He smiled at me and said, “It’s okay kid, we’re all a little shaken up.” He secured cap to bottle and placed it on Ying’s stomach. He then clasped his hands around the bottle. As he finished wrapping and tying the blanket, Jake returned.
He was carrying a shovel and a pick axe. “Got these at a construction site down the road. Had to break into their tool shed.” He handed me the tools, and he and Samuel picked up Ying and carried him to a thicket of oak trees. In the center of the thicket were the roots would not be as dense, they started digging. First Jake with the pick, and then Samuel with the shovel. Back and forth they worked until they had a whole, or should I say grave, about three and a half to four feet deep. It was six feet long. I know because Jake paced it off.
With me watching, they gently placed Ying into his final resting place. When Samuel started to fill in the grave, I said, “I want to do something. Let me fill it in.” “Sure Billy, but pack it in hard, and whatever dirt is left over, spread it around so that the ground is level. Jake and I will gather leaves to hide the fact that any digging went on here. After the leaves were spread and the place looked as pristine as it did before, Jake said, “I need a drink, where’s that bottle?” Samuel and I looked at each other before Samuel, said to Jake, “It’s with Ying.” Jake looked at each one of us in turn, and then stated the obvious, “Right where it should be.”
“Well, if I can’t have a drink, let’s go and see Mr. Testa,” said Jake as he picked up the pistol he had taken from Testa and had placed by the fire as he dug Ying’s grave.
When we got to the yard, we squatted down in the shade of a shed, out of the moonlight and watched the idle trains. We knew, or Jake and Samuel knew, that Testa was not too far away, doing the same thing. I asked Samuel, “Suppose he’s already on a train?” “That isn’t likely. “He’d be afraid the bulls would see him and chase him out of the yard or worse yet, turn him over to the police. No, he’s hiding and waiting, just like us.”
We had no more than an hour to wait when the train in front of us backed up to couple with a line of cars, maybe eight or nine. When the cars had become part of the train, and as the train stared its forward motion, we saw a solitary figure run out from behind a building and jump onto one of the cars that had not yet passed us. “That’s it gentlemen, we’ve got us a train to catch,” said Jake as he stood watching the car we wanted approach us. He had been absent mindedly playing with the pistol. But now he stuck it in his belt and headed for the train. Samuel and I followed.
Jake was the first to jump on, next Samuel, and lastly me, as usual. By now, I could get on a moving train by myself and without too much difficulty. But it was still a struggle. By the time I flopped onto my back inside the car and laid there a moment to catch my breath, Jake had backed Testa up to the back wall. As I got up and walked towards them, I heard Testa say, “… and you were there, you saw it. He rushed me. I was only gonna’ scare him. But when he rushed me I was in fear of my life.” Jake looked over to Samuel and expressed his doubts as to the veracity of Testa’s story, “I think he’s a lying sack of shit. What do you think Samuel?” “I agree and concur wholeheartedly,” responded Samuel. No one asked my opinion.
Because of the full moon, the ambient light inside the car was enough for me to discern the terror upon Testa’s face. Just when I thought, “What are they going to do now that they’ve got him?” four shots rang out. The first into his forehead, not quite right between the eyes, but pretty good shooting nevertheless. The next three as he lay on the floor. Those went into his chest. Then I heard clicks as the spent chambers revolved to the firing position. Jake stood over the dead man, right arm out stretched, pointing the gun straight down at the body, and continued to squeeze the trigger until Samuel came up next to him and gently eased the gun from his hand. “You know, that’s the first time I’ve ever killed a man.” Jake said that more to himself, than either of us.
Well, I reckon it’s time to wrap up my story. It’s getting late. They dragged the body over to the open door and we waited until we were crossing a river. Then Samuel took hold of Testa’s wrist and Jake his ankles and they swung him back and forth, counting one, two, three. On three, they flung him out the door as far as they could. They wanted him in the water, not on the side of the tracks. It was my job to throw the gun out. Which I did without screwing it up.
We did not know where we were headed. Jake said because of the moon he could tell we were going in a southeasterly direction. We did not want to be caught in that car because of all the fresh blood on the floor. That would take some explaining.
We ended up in Tallahassee. Samuel still wanted to get to Atlanta, so he said he was going to catch a fright headed in that general direction. Jake said he had a woman down in Bonita Springs and was thinking of spending the winter with her. Until then he thought he’d pick oranges. The picking season was less than a month away. Me, I had had enough of boxcars and travelling for the moment. I was going home to mother. I invited them both along and told them they could stay as long as the wished. Both politely declined.
We said good bye to Samuel at the yard, then Jake and I hitched together as far as Orlando where we said goodbye. We both lied and said we’d meet up on the road at some future date, knowing that was highly unlikely. At least I did, because I knew right then and there that my boxcar riding days were at an end.
The End

Jacob Part Three: The Dakota

As the band of warriors came over the hill, the girl pointed, and said to no one in particular, “Look, horse canoes.” Horse canoe being the term some Indians used for wagons. In the distance, she had seen the white, cotton covers of the two unburned wagons. Her name was Fighting Woman, and she was the only female of the war party.
The war party consisted of eighty braves, members of the Mdewakanton and Wahpekute, their War Chief, Big Eagle, and his daughter Fighting Woman. The warriors wore breechclouts, moccasins or leggings, nothing more. In their hair, all wore their coup feathers. Fighting Woman wore leggings, a breechclout, and a deerskin shirt. Her raven-colored hair was braded in one braid and fell to the middle of her back. She was a good-looking woman, high cheekbones, a strong chin, and she stood almost six feet tall. Her most outstanding attribute and the one that set her apart from every other woman in her tribe were her green eyes. Accounted for by the fact her maternal great grandmother had married a French fur trapper. She was only eighteen winters old, but could ride and shoot a bow and arrow as well as any man in her village. She was called Fighting Woman for a reason. Big Eagle also wore leggings and a breechclout, but no shirt. In his hair he wore a single feather of the eagle, denoting bravery.
When the Indians drew near, they saw that there were more than just the two wagons, but the others had been set on fire. They rode pass the still smoldering wagons. One or two had burned completely, their wagon wheels standing alone, attached by the metal axels, with the top half of the wheel blackened; and between the wheels lay bones and skulls. However, the majority of the wagons were only partially consumed by fire. The cotton covers were gone, revealing the terrible sight of partially cremated men, women, and children, the dead lying on their backs, staring skyward. All the corpses seemed to be smiling a macabre smile because their lips had burned away, which exposed their teeth. The white teeth, reflecting the bright sunlight, stood in sharp contrast to the blackened bodies and the charred wagons. The freed livestock were nearby, which gave an unnatural feel to the location. The peaceful pastoral background of oxen grazing, surrounding the abhorrent sight of half-burned bodies made some of the Indians want flee that place of death. They were already uneasy because they were south of their homeland. They believed that a south wind brought sickness, that the south was a land of death, and when you died, your spirit went south. However, they were soldiers they followed their War Chief.
Fighting Woman asked her father, “Do you think it might have been the Pawnee that did this terrible thing?” Her father replied, “I don’t think so. If it were the Pawnee, why would they go to the trouble of putting the bodies in the horse canoes? Also, nothing was taken. Look there, you see those sacks? They are probably filled with food.” As he said that, he pointed to a partially burned wagon with sacks of salt lying on the ground beneath it. “And look about you at the animals, why are they still here if a war party did this?”
The Indians made their way to the two wagons that had not been set on fire. When they arrived, they saw Jacob on the ground, he was unconscious, but he was alive. Upon seeing Jacob, Fighting Woman flung herself from her pony and ran to him. She knelt down and looked at the dying Wasichu (White Man) with the yellow hair. In an instant, she decided that Zi Hin (Yellow Hair) would not die; she would see to it that he did not die.
As Fighting Woman knelt over Jacob, Big Eagle told two of his braves to look into the wagons and see if there were bodies within. In one, they found a dead man, Hamilton Richards, in the other nothing but food stock.
At that point, there was discussion among the braves of rounding up the animals and herding them back to their village. Then someone suggested anything of value found in the wagons should also be taken. Big Eagle allowed the talk until he said, "The animals we will herd to our village, but touch nothing from the wagons. This is a place of death; we do not know what killed these people. Big Eagle had lived forty-five winters; most of his braves were in their twenties, so not only because he was their War Chief, but also because of the wisdom that comes with age, they deferred to his order.
When Big Eagle told his braves to mount their ponies, that it was time to move on, Fighting Woman stood and looked down at Jacob for a moment. She then walked over to her father, and looking up at him sitting on his pony she said, “Yellow Hair must not die. We cannot leave him here alone.” To which here father replied, “If it is the wish of Wakan Tan’ka that he die, he will die. If it is the wish of Wakan Tan’ka that he lives, he will live.” “No, he will not die! I will not allow it,” shouted Fighting Woman.
Her father, the Great War Chief Big Eagle, looked down at his daughter and sighed; how he loved her. Before he spoke, he thought back to the day she was born. He had been disappointed that it was not a male child, but when he looked at her for the first time, he was glad that he had fathered a girl child. He called her Suni. The name in itself means nothing; it is a term of affection. A name that would be between father and daughter only. And that is how it has been for eighteen winters. No one has called her Suni, but her father.
Big Eagle said gently, “He cannot travel, and even if he could we do not have an extra pony for him to ride.” Fighting Woman responded with, “I will stay with him, and when he is well enough he will ride upon my pony and I will walk.” Once again, her father sighed, he knew his daughter well, if she had made up her mind to stay with the Wasichu, there was little he could do about it. Of course, he could have two, no; it would probably take four of his braves to hold her while a fifth tied her hands and feet. She could then be flung over her pony and brought back to their village like a freshly killed deer. However, Big Eagle said only, “Suni, if you were a man you would obey your War Chief, but follow when you can.” He had no fear for her safety; he knew she could take care of herself as well as any one of his braves.
Fighting Woman stood for a moment watching her father, the war party, and the animals as they headed northeast, back to their village. She then went through Jacob’s wagon looking for blankets in which to cover him. Having found what she was looking for, she knelt over Jacob and covered him with two blankets. Jacob’s body had gone into shock, and when a body goes into shock, the first and best thing to do is to cover it and keep it warm. So it was, either by intuition, or by plain dumb luck, Fighting Woman took the first step in saving the life of Yellow Hair. A man destined to one day be a War Chief of the Santee Sioux in revolt against the United States of America.
For five days and nights, she stayed with him. He could not eat, but Fighting Woman forced him to drink as much water as possible. For she had been told by the medicine man of their village that water is the mother of life. And at night, she slept next to him to keep him warm and to keep the wolves away. She touched nothing from what she called “the horse canoe of death,” the wagon that held Hamilton Richards body; but used the water and ate the food from the Ariesen wagon, which she called “the horse canoe of life.”
On the sixth day, she awoke with a start, up on one arm and looking at her was her patient. He said nothing when her eyes opened; he just continued staring at her. Her first impulse was to back away in embarrassment because she had been sleeping so close to him. After a moment Jacob said, “Are you real, I have been dreaming of you.” When she did not answer he asked, “Do you speak English?” Fighting Woman stood and brushed the dirt off her shirt and breechclout before answering. “I speak your tongue; my people have traded with the Americans and English many winters now.” “I am not English; I am an American, a hungry American.” “Yes, you are Isantanka.” (an American) I will feed you, but first you must bathe. Remove your leggings (pants) and shirt, I will find you new ones in your horse canoe.”
Jacob, to say the least, was disorientated and a bit confused. He looked up at the Indian girl with the beautiful green eyes standing over him telling him to take off his clothes and she would feed him; he just shook his head as if to clear it. He finally said, “Who are you?” “My name is Kićizapi Winohinća (Fighting Woman); daughter of Tan’ka Wanmdi (Big Eagle). But you may call me Suni.” “Well Suni, can you tell me what has happened. The last thing that I remember is going to sleep. I remember getting sick … wait … I had Mountain Fever! I should be dead!”
Fighting Woman drew herself up to her full five foot, eleven inch height before saying, “You are not dead because I would not let you die. Now take off your coverings and bathe, you smell like a dead buffalo. If you want to eat, you must bathe.”
Jacob did not understand, but when the girl had gone to the back of the wagon he stood and disrobed, and quickly, in an effort at modesty, wrapped himself in a blanket. The girl soon returned, handed Jacob a pair of pants and a shirt saying, “While you bathe, I will start the fire, then you shall eat. We must be on our way; my father may worry of me.”
Once again, Jacob shook his head in confusion and said, “Your father … going …?” Fighting Woman simply said, “We will talk while you eat,” turned her back on him, and walked away. Jacob shrugged, walked over to his water barrel, and started to splash water onto himself.
When he had made himself as presentable as possible, he dressed and walked to the other side of the wagon where Fighting Woman was frying bacon over a fire of buffalo chips. He sat down on the ground, he was still too weak to sit on his heels, and smelled the bacon. “Smells good, I feel like I haven’t eaten in days.” “You have not eaten in five days that I know of,” said Fighting Woman.
While Jacob waited for the bacon to cook, he looked out at the half-burned wagons, and the memory of what had happened to his family and the others came flooding back into his consciousness. He suddenly remembered Hamilton Richards and asked Fighting Woman, “Was there another White Man here when you arrived at this place?” “Yes there was.” “Well, did he say anything before he left?” “No.” “He said nothing at all, he just left?” “He did not leave. Can you not smell him in the wagon over there?” Jacob looked to the Morton wagon and remembered that Hamilton was going to sleep inside of it. He thought to himself, “There is no need to go over to the wagon and look inside because as the girl has said, I can smell him from here.”
Fighting Woman placed the frying pan of bacon between them and said, “Eat.” Jacob picked up a piece of bacon, and as he chewed it he said, “Can we talk now?” “Yes, we may talk, but first tell me of what happened here?” Therefore, Jacob explained to the girl who called herself Suni about his family and the train coming down with Mountain Fever, and of his and Hamilton’s effort to burn the bodies before the wolves could get at them. He finished with, “I guess we did not do a very good job of it.” Fighting Woman responded, “Good enough.” Jacob then asked where she had come from, and Fighting Woman told him of the war party, how they had been attracted by smoke to “this place of death.” And she told him how she had stayed behind to care for him.
Jacob was hungry and could have eaten all the bacon Fighting Woman had cooked, but left half for her. When she saw that he had not eaten it all she asked, “Did you not say you were hungry? Why do you not eat what I have cooked?” “I was saving some for you.” “No, I have dried deer meat; I will eat as we go.” “That is the second time you said we are going somewhere. I’m going to California. Is that where you are going?” “Are you going to walk to this Californ with no food, no water?” “First of all it’s California, not Californ. And I will take my wagon” “Will you also pull your wagon?” “No, I have a team.”But as he said that, Jacob noticed for the first time all the animals where gone, even his and Hamilton’s teams which they had hobbled. “Where are our animals? Did your people take them?” “The animals are gone.” “But mine and the Morton’s teams were hobbled; they could not have gone far.” “My people took the animals to our village. But I have given in return.” “You had no right, and what do you mean you have given?” “I have given you your life back. Wakan Tan’ka, I think, wanted you somewhere else, but I would not let your spirit leave your body.”
It was then that Jacob realized that this Indian, this girl, had saved his life. If not for her, he too would be as bloated and odorous as Hamilton Richards. He turned to Fighting Woman and said. “I am sorry. Thank you for my life, though I don’t think it was worth your time. And thank you for breakfast. But what do we do now? I see you have only one horse.”
Fighting Woman informed Jacob, “You are too weak to walk, you would not get far. If you are ready, we will now leave. You will ride my pony and I will walk.” Jacob started to protest, but she cut him off by saying, “I must get to my village, I cannot leave you here or you will die. You are not strong enough yet, so you will ride. When you are able to walk, I will ride and you will walk.”
Jacob thought, “I won’t get far if I start walking west. For now, my only hope is to accompany this Indian girl. Perhaps we’ll meet a train, or other White Men along the way.” Then the realization came to him, “I never wanted to go to California to begin with; I have no family, no ties, I will go with this girl.”
“Your name is Suni is it not?” asked Jacob. “Only you and my father may call me Suni. To all others I am Fighting Woman.” “Well Suni, my name is Jacob and it is my deepest pleasure to have met you.” “No, your name is Zi Hin, Yellow Hair in your tongue. Now get on the pony, we leave now.” “Wait Suni; let me get some food out of my wagon.” “There is no need; I will supply what we need.” “But I have to do something for Hamilton, the man in the wagon; the wolves will be at him.” “I have been here five sleeps, there have been no wolves. Get on the pony, we leave now.” Because of his weaken condition, and not wanting to argue with the woman had who had saved his life, he acquiesced to her demand, but he did duck into the wagon for a moment and reemerged with the knife he had taken from the man in Westport. Then he did as he was told and mounted her pony while thinking, “Yellow Hair?”
Fighting Woman took the lead and walked in a northeasterly direction, following the trail made by the war party almost a week earlier. She then turned to Jacob and said, “My father and the others should be back in our village by now, but for us it will take ten sleeps.” Jacob responded, “Ten sleeps?” “Yes, ten nights, and we will be in my village.”
The first day they covered only eighteen miles. Fighting Woman did not hurry; she knew Jacob was too weak to travel all day without resting. That is why she said it would take ten days to reach her village. The village was only a seven-day walk from where she found Jacob. When the sun was overhead of the first day, and after telling Jacob to dismount, Fighting Woman jumped on her pony and raced away at full gallop. In her hand was a war club that she also used for hunting.
Her pony had been trained to follow rabbits at full speed, and as she approached a prairie rabbit, she leaned off her pony and struck it with her club. She repeated the maneuver three additional times and returned to Jacob with four rabbits. She then told him to collect buffalo chips while she skinned and dressed the kill. When Jacob returned with his last burden of chips, Fighting Woman said, “This meat will last us for two sleeps.”
There were many questions Jacob wanted to ask the Indian girl, but his every query was met with, “We will speak at another time.” “Just answer me one question.” “What.” “Who is this Wakan Tan’ka that wanted my spirit to leave my body?” “Wakan Tan’ka is the Great Mysterious, the Great Mystery, the life that is in all things. Your people call him the Great Spirit.” You mean God?” “Yes, now do not speak.” Jacob wondered if all Indian girls were as taciturn as Suni.
On the morning of the fifth day, Jacob thought he was strong enough to walk rather than ride. When told by Fighting Woman to mount the pony, he refused, telling her that she would ride and he would walk. Instead of arguing with the man, Fighting Woman looked Jacob in the eye and said, “We will see.” Within a few hours, Jacob realized he had underestimated his recuperative powers. However, rather than give Suni the satisfaction, he continued on. That is until he collapsed, and passed into unconsciousness.
When Jacob came to, it was getting dark and Fighting Woman was nowhere in sight, though he knew she would be back. Her belongings were on the ground next to him, and Jacob surmised she had gone hunting. Therefore, he thought he would make himself useful and went to collect the chips that would be needed to cook the game Fighting Woman was sure to bring back.
It bothered Jacob to be dependant on a girl, even an Indian girl, for his survival. However, at the moment he had no alternative, the Cholera had taken its toll on him. As Jacob stacked the chips he thought, “I guess I’ll just have to put myself in her hands until I’m stronger.” Then he laughed, and said aloud, “Put myself in her hands? There was no ‘putting’ involved, she simply took charge and has been issuing orders ever since I regained consciousness.”
Just then, Fighting Woman rode up, with two birds, a variety of which was unfamiliar to Jacob, and a rabbit. Still upon her pony, she looked down at him and held out the birds saying, “Take these wakiye. We will eat them tonight; the rabbit is for the morrow. And then you will ride, we have lost enough time because of your foolishness.”
Jacob made no reply at that time. Later, while he was plucking the feathers of the unidentified birds, he said, “I am sorry I slowed you down today, but tonight while we eat, will you tell me of yourself and of your people? I don’t even know what tribe you are with.”
For the first time since he had known her, Fighting Woman smiled before saying, “Damakota” (I am Dakota).
They did not speak during dinner, but afterwards as they lay on their backs looking at the bright firmament, this is the narrative as spoken by Fighting Woman:
“Dakota means ally. There are four tribes within the Dakota, the Yankton, the Yanktonai, the Lakota, and the Santee Sioux. The first three tribes live in the west. We, the Santee Sioux inhabit the east. Within the Santee Sioux are four bands, the Mdewakanton, the Wahpeton, the Sisseton, and the Wahpekute. My people are of the Mdewakanton.
“We received the name Sioux from the Chippewa and the French. The Chippewa called us Nadonessiou, which means adder, or enemy. The French shortened the name to Sioux. But, we are the Dakota!
“Many winters ago, before my time, we lived at Knife Lake, Isantamde in my tongue. We were called the Isanyati, which in your tongue means Dwelling at the Knife. From that, the Wasichus called us the Santee Sioux. Nevertheless, I am a Dakota!
“I will tell you one other thing of my people. I will tell you how we came to be in this world. And then, no more questions until we reach my village.
"In the beginning, before the creation of the Earth, the gods resided in the sky, and humans lived in darkness.

“Chief among the gods was Takuskanskan, the Sun, who is married to the Moon; he has one daughter, Wohpe.

“Old Man and Old Woman, whose daughter Ite is wife to Wind, with who she gave four sons, the Four Winds.

“Of the other spirits, the most important is Inktomi, the devious trickster. Inktomi conspired with Old Man and Old Woman to increase their daughter's status by arranging an affair between the Sun and Ite.

“The discovery of the affair by the Sun's wife lead to a number of punishments by Takuskanskan, who gave the Moon her own domain, and by separating her from the Sun created time.

“Old Man, Old Woman, and Ite were sent to Earth, but Ite was separated from Wind, her husband, who, along with the Four Winds and a fifth wind, the child of Ite, but not Wind, established space.

“The daughter of the Sun and the Moon, Wohpe, also fell to earth and later resided with the South Wind, and the two adopted the fifth wind, called Wamniomni.

“Alone on the newly formed Earth, some of the gods became bored, and Ite prevailed upon Inktomi to find her people, the Buffalo Nation. In the form of a wolf, Inktomi went beneath the earth and discovered a village of humans. Inktomi told them about the wonders of the Earth and convinced one man, Tokahe, to accompany him to the surface.

“Tokahe did so, and upon reaching the surface through a cave, saw the green grass and blue sky. Inktomi and Ite introduced Tokahe to buffalo meat and soup and showed him tepees, clothing, hunting clubs, and bows and arrows.

“Tokahe returned to the under world village and appealed to six other men and their families to go with him to the Earth's surface.

“When they arrived, they discovered that Inktomi has deceived them: buffalo were scarce, the weather had turned bad, and they found themselves starving. Unable to return to their home, but armed with a new knowledge about the world, they survived to become the founders of the Seven Council Fires."
Jacob asked, “The Seven Council Fires?” “Yes, Oćeti Śakowin; the Mdewakanton, the Wahpeton, the Wahpekute, the Sisseton, the Yankton, the Yanktonai, and the Lakota,” responded Fighting Woman before turning away from Jacob and falling asleep.
The next night as they ate, Jacob prevailed upon Fighting Woman to tell him more of her people. With a sigh and a shrug, she told him of White Buffalo Woman.
“After Tokahe lead the six families to the surface of the earth they wandered the earth for many winters. Sons were born and sons died. Winters passed, more winters than could be counted. This was before Oćeti Śakowin. Then we were not Dakota. Not until White Buffalo Woman did we become the Dakota.
“Two scouts were hunting the buffalo when they came to the top of a small hill. A long way off, they saw the figure of a woman. As she approached, they saw that she was beautiful. She was young and wore a white buckskin dress, and carried a wakin on her back. One of the scouts had lustful thoughts and told the other. His friend told him that she was scared and to banish such thoughts.
“As the woman came up to them, she said to the one with the lustful thoughts, ‘If you would do what you are thinking, come forward.’ As the scout stood before the woman, a white cloud covered them from sight.
“Then the woman stepped from the cloud and it blew away. There on the ground, at the beautiful woman’s feet, was a pile of bones with worms crawling in and among them.
“The woman then told the other scout to go to his village and tell his people that she was coming. And for them to build a council tepee large enough to hold all the chiefs of the nation. She said ‘I bring a great gift to your people.’
“When the people heard the scout’s story, they constructed the lodge, and put on their finest clothing. Then they stood about the lodge and waited.
“When the woman came, they saw that she was beautiful. And as she entered the lodge, she sang a song:
‘With visible breath I am walking.
A voice I am sending as I walk.
In a sacred manner I am walking.
With visible tracks I am walking.
In a scared manner I walk.’
“Out of the wakin she withdrew a pipe. On one side of the pipe was carved a bison calf. ‘The bison represents the earth, which will house you and feed you,’ said White Buffalo Woman.
“From the wooden stem hung twelve eagle feathers. The chiefs were told, ‘The feathers represent the sky and the twelve moons. With this pipe you shall prosper. With this pipe you shall commune with Wakan Tan’ka. With this pipe you shall become the People. With this pipe you shall be bound with the Earth, for She is your mother, She is scared. With this pipe you shall be bound to your relatives. Only the good may lay hands on this pipe. The bad may not even see it.’
“Having given the pipe to the People, and having said what she had to say, she turned and walked four paces from the lodge and sat down.
“When she arose, she was a red-and-brown buffalo calf. She walked further, lay down, and came up as a white buffalo calf. Walking still further, she turned into a black buffalo and stood upon a hill. She turned to bow in the four directions of the four winds and then vanished.
“Before White Buffalo Woman we were as animals. Because of White Buffalo Woman we honor our mother the Earth; we honor our parents and grandparents. Because of White Buffalo Woman we honor the birds of the sky; we honor the beast of the earth. Because of White Buffalo Woman, we know that Wakan Tan’ka resides in all animals, in all trees and plants and rocks and stones. Wakan Tan’ka is in all. Because of White Buffalo Woman, we know that Wakan Tan’ka lives in each of us. Because of White Buffalo Woman we have become the Dakota.”
When she had finished speaking, Fighting Woman smiled at Jacob for the second time since he had awakened from his illness. She then frowned and said, “Enough talk, it is time to sleep.” As Jacob lay looking at the stars, and before he fell asleep, he thought, “That girl should smile more often, she has a beautiful smile.”
After that night, it took three days to reach Fighting Woman’s village. During those three days, she was as reticent as ever. The only words she spoke to Jacob were “Wake up.” “Collect buffalo chips.” “Build a fire.” “Go to sleep” and a few other words as it suited her. As they approached the village, some of the older children and a few women came out to see the Wasichu that Fighting Woman had brought back from the raiding party. The women giggled among themselves because it was supposed to be the men who brought back the captives, and they were always women, not men. The younger children stayed in their tepees and peered out at Jacob with fear showing on their small faces. Their parents had used White Men as a threat, as in, “If you don’t behave, I’ll let the Wasichus get you.” Indians did not have closets for a White Man to hide in, nor a bed to hide under, but many an Indian child was convinced that a White Man lurked on the far side of their tepee at night, awaiting a chance to devour them.
The village of the Mdewakanton consisted of almost a thousand people. In the territory of Minnesota in 1850, there were six thousand Santee Sioux. By 1867, there would fifty.
Ten hours a day on horseback, for ten days, did not help Jacob’s efforts to convalesce. When he and Fighting Woman arrived at her village, he was still very weak. As they reached the edge of the village, Fighting Woman told Jacob to get off the pony and sit under a nearby tree while she spoke with her father. For a moment, Jacob was tempted to tell her that he was finished taking orders, but then thought better of it. The ground beneath the tree did look inviting, and there would be time later when he felt stronger to let her know that he had had it with her bossy ways. However, for now he would do as he was told, but only because he was too weak to fight. Once she saw that Jacob was sitting on the ground with his back to the tree, Fighting Woman scattered the women and children, telling the women to take their children and go home where they belonged.
When she reached her tepee, Fighting Woman hesitated a moment before entering. As an only child, her father had let her do pretty much as she pleased as long as her actions brought no shame upon his lodge. Her mother had died when she was quite young and her father had not taken another woman, so it had just been the two of them, and they had grown closer than most fathers and daughters of their band. Fighting Woman had always told her father that she would never marry, for to marry she would have to take on the duties of a wife. In addition, she wanted to be a warrior. When Big Eagle heard those things, he inwardly smiled. He knew she would one day be a good wife and mother. As she stood before her tepee, she did not know of her father’s thoughts. She only knew that it was going to be hard to tell what was now in her heart.
She took a deep breath, pushed aside the skin covering the entrance, and entered. She saw her father sitting in his place of honor and said, “Dećiya atkuku waun.” (Father I am here.) Big Eagle put down the piece of dried buffalo meat he was eating, and responded, “I can see that daughter. Why have you been so long in coming? I was about to send some men out to look for you.”
Fighting Woman looked down at the earthen floor of her home and then said, “Yellow Hair, I mean the Wasichu did not awaken for five days. Then because of his weakness I had to walk my pony with him upon her.” Big Eagle, in spite of himself, let a small smile play across his lips. “Come sit here by me daughter.” After Fighting Woman was seated, her father said, “You know, I have not seen you for half a moon. I was worried that the Pawnee might have followed our trail and found you. Now all is right, you are home. So tell me of this Wasichu. What do you plan to do with him now that you have brought him here?” “When I have made a warrior of him, I will marry him and be his woman.”
Big Eagle was not surprised at his daughter’s declaration. However, as her father, he had some questions that needed to be asked. “You know when you marry you will have to take on the duties of a wife, and sooner or later the duties that come with motherhood. There will be no more war paths for you.” “Yes father I know. But Yellow Hair is my destiny.” Now that statement did take Big Eagle aback. “What do you mean he is your destiny?” “Father, do you remember when I was ten winters old and how sick I was. I lay for eight days near death.” “Yes Suni, I have not forgotten that time. It was the Winter of The Great Buffalo Hunt.” (The Dakota counted years by winters. And the winters were denoted by a significant event that took place within those twelve months.)
Fighting Woman continued, “Well father, I had a vision at that time. I was afraid to tell you, or anyone. Girls are not supposed to have visions, only boys and men. But now I will tell you of my vision.” Big Eagle said nothing; he just nodded at his daughter, and leaned back on his backrest to await what she had to say.
Not looking at her father, but off to his left, as though once more seeing the vision, Fighting Woman spoke. “I was in terrible pain, but I could not speak to tell of it. Just as I thought that it would be better to die than endure the pain any longer, a handsome brave appeared next to me and said that if I would go with him the pain would stop. He held out his hand and I took it and I stood up. As soon as I was standing, the pain vanished. I turned to look down, and saw a girl of my winters lying where I had just been. I asked the brave who was that lying on my bed. ‘She is you Suni,’ was his answer. Then he told me I should go with him that he had something of great importance to show me. But I was afraid to leave myself, or the part of me wrapped in the buffalo skins. ‘You will be alright, both of you. And when you return you will be well and there will be no more pain.’”
After a moment’s hesitation she went on, “The brave was so handsome, and he seemed so kind, I went with him. We did not walk; we floated out through the top of the tepee as though it was not there. Shortly we were among the clouds and he pointed to a white cloud that had only one side. He told me he was going to show me my future and I was to remember what I was about to see because it was important for my people and for myself. Upon the cloud, I saw myself learning the ways of a brave. I learned to ride, to hunt, to make bows and arrows. As I watched myself, I was older, but it was still me. The brave said, ‘You will learn these things in order to teach another who will come to you during your eighteenth winter. I will now show him to you, as he will look then. The visions of me faded from the cloud and were replaced by a vision of a Wasichu with yellow hair. He lay on the ground under a horse canoe. As I watched the man, he disappeared and was replaced by another vision. It was of a woman, and she was in a tepee, but it was not our tepee. She was a woman of about thirty winters and was holding an infant to her breast, feeding him. Somehow, I knew that woman was me, and that the infant was a male child. He had yellow hair. Then a boy child of about ten winters entered the tepee. He ran up to me and said something that I could not hear. I shook my head as if saying no. Then the flap of the tepee was pulled back and the one with the yellow hair entered. But he did not look the same. He was dressed as a brave. His hair was long as a brave’s and braided into two braids. He wore coup feathers in his hair and he was painted for war. He walked over to where I was feeding the infant; first, he kissed the baby, and then me. He rubbed the older boy’s hair, and smiling at us, walked out of the tepee. For some reason that I cannot explain, I knew I would never see him again. Though I knew, he would not be harmed in battle. Then the handsome brave took hold of my hand and said that it was time to go home. He said that if I stayed away from the part of me wrapped in the buffalo skins for too long I would not be able to return. We descended from the clouds and floated once again through the top of the tepee. Then I opened my eyes and you were looking at me with tears in your eyes. As the brave had said, the pain was gone and I was well again. The man in my vision was the same man we found in that place of death, he is the same man that I have brought to our village.”
When Fighting Woman had finished speaking, Big Eagle did not speak for a few minutes. Finally, he said, “What do you want to do now?” “Father, Yellow Hair is still not well. I must get him strong so that I may teach him the way of the Dakota. Then when he becomes the man I saw in my vision, I will become his woman.” “Suni, you have always known your own mind. I have encouraged you to follow your own path. Are you sure this is where you want to go?” “Yes father, it is not where I want to go, it is where I must go. There is one other thing that the handsome brave said to me that I have not told you. He said that what Yellow Hair and others did while alive would not do much to alter the destiny of the Dakota, but long after they had gone south to the world of the dead, their deeds would secure for the Dakota a place in this world. He said that the Wasichus would at long last come to realize the greatness of the Dakota.”
“Suni, have you asked the Wasichu what he wants?” “I know what he wants.” To that statement, Big Eagle could only shake his head and say, “Go and get your Yellow Hair, I will speak with Taoyateduta (Little Crow), he is our chief, if he says Yellow Hair may stay, then he will stay. If he sits in council with the others and they decide he must leave, then he will leave. However, I will speak on his behalf.” Fighting Woman leaned into her father and kissed him. Without saying another word, she stood, and left the tepee.
She found Jacob where she had left him. He was fast asleep. It was getting late and they had traveled all day, so she looked down upon him as a loving mother would look upon her child asleep after hard day’s play. Of course, Fighting Woman would not have let Jacob see the expression of love on her face, not yet. First, she had to get him well, and then she had to make a man of him, one worthy of her. And because of her vision, she knew that in time it would come to pass.
She knelt down on one knee and shook Jacob by the shoulder. He awaken with a start, looked about him, and then up at Fighting Woman. “I was just dreaming of lifting dead bodies into the air where they caught on fire.” “Yes, it is a terrible thing to see one’s friends and family die, but you are a man, and men do not let such things bother them.” Thus, Jacob was given his first lesson in the way of the Dakota. “Come now, we will speak with my father.”
After ten days with Fighting Woman, Jacob was getting used to obeying her commands without question. He had been dependant on her while they traveled to her village. If not for her, he would be dead, and if not for her, he would have starved during the journey to her village. However, as he was half way to a standing position, he sat back down and said. “Suni, there is much that I owe you, but from this moment on, I will not take orders from you.” Fighting Woman, who was standing over Jacob, arms folded; let the slightest smile escape before she again frowned. She said, “If you want to eat tonight you will speak with my father.” However, she was thinking, “This is what I’ve been waiting for, Yellow Hair to treat me as a woman.” She turned, but before leaving said, “Follow me when you get hungry.” In turn, Jacob thought, “Damn her, I’m already hungry.” So, he raised himself and ran to catch up with her.
When they reached her tepee, Fighting Woman held back the skin covering the entrance and motioned for Jacob to enter. Upon entering, Jacob saw a man, a big man, directly in front of him. He, the man, was sitting on a buffalo hide, on the ground, or floor. Jacob did not know if you called the ground inside of a tepee a floor or not. It was his first time inside a tepee.
The man spoke, “Ekta mitawa ounyan ikieiyuśkin.” “My father welcomes you to his lodge,” translated Fighting Woman. This prompted Jacob to ask, “Does he speak English?” “Not as well as me, and only when he has to.” She added, “Sit down, I will bring food.” All of a sudden, Jacob lost his appetite sitting in front of the father of the girl he had spent ten days with without anyone else present. Jacob was thinking “Shotgun wedding,” while Big Eagle was thinking, “What a sorry excuse for a son-in-law.”
Neither man spoke. Jacob fidgeted; Big Eagle looked sullen, and stared at Jacob. Finally, to both men’s relief, Fighting Woman returned with three portions of food. After having placed a portion in front of each man, she said, “Have you two gotten to know one another?” In unison, they both stammered, “Yes.” This made them smile. Thus, the ice was broken. Big Eagle was the first to let out with a prodigious laugh. Then Jacob followed with a hearty laugh of his own. Fighting Woman looked at both of them, and thought, “Men!”
As they ate, Big Eagle asked questions. He asked Jacob where he came from, how he got to the place where they had found him and what had happened to the people, and how did they get burned. When he asked Jacob what his plans were, Big Eagle received a withering look from his daughter. The look, Jacob missed, because he was answering the question. “I don’t know. My entire family is gone, I’ve got no home to go back to, and probably wouldn’t even if I did. I guess at twenty years old, I’m footloose and fancy free.” That response made Fighting Woman smile.
Big Eagle took pity on his daughter and said to Jacob, “You are welcome here for as long as you want to stay. I will talk with our chief and I am sure he will invite you to be our … Suni, what is the word I am trying to say?” “I think father, you want to say guest.” “Yes, that is it. Our band would like you to be our guest for as long as you wish. But first, before you decide to do anything, we must get you well. Suni will take you to see our medicine man. After I speak with Little Crow, I will secure a place for you to stay while you are our guest. It would not be proper for you to stay in this tepee. Seeing as how Suni is a maiden.”
When they had finished eating, Fighting Woman brought a pipe, which she handed to her father. She then said to Jacob, “I will go and speak with Looking Elk; he is our peźihuta wićasta (medicine man).” And then added, “He will make you strong.” Smiling at her father, she turned and left the tepee.
“You know Mr. Big Eagle; your daughter should smile more often.” “Yes, Yellow Hair, I think so too.” Jacob waited a moment or two before responding, “Sir, my name is Jacob, not Yellow Hair. I don’t know why Suni insists on calling me by that name.” “Son, I have found that it is better to give Suni her head as you would a spirited horse. If she wants to call you Yellow Hair, be Yellow Hair. Make your life easy. I have known her for eighteen winters, and I am a bigger than she is; still I do as I am told.”
Then Big Eagle asked Jacob why he had addressed his daughter as Suni. “Because she told me that is what I should call her. She told me only you and I may address her as such.” Nodding his head, Big Eagle told Jacob it looked as though he was one of the family, like it or not. Then he raised the pipe and put a lighted stick to the contents. After drawing smoke through the stem, he reached out to hand the pipe to Jacob. “No sir, I do not use tobacco.” Blowing smoke into the air, Big Eagle told Jacob that it was not tobacco, but the bark of the red willow, that the pipe was holy. “There are four ribbons that hang from this pipe. The black is the west where the Thunder Beings live. They bring us the rain. The red is the east, where the morning star lives. The east gives us light. The yellow is for the south, the summer. It has the power to grow. The white ribbon is the cleansing wind from the north. And there is an eagle feather, which signifies the father. The sky is father. On the mouthpiece is buffalo hide to signify mother, the earth is mother.” When he had finished speaking, Big Eagle again held the pipe out to Jacob. This time Jacob accepted, and drew on the holy pipe. Of course, he coughed as he handed it back to Big Eagle.
When they had finished the pipe, Big Eagle told Jacob that he, Big Eagle, should go and inform Little Crow of his, Jacob’s, presence. And he added, “Before I come back, I will see Short Bull. His granddaughter, who he had raised because both her parents were dead, just married a man of the Wahpekute and he cannot stand the man’s mother. He refuses to live with them. He is alone in his tepee, so if I tell him you will do the tasks as a son would do, he may allow you to live in his lodge. We shall see. You wait here, Suni will return.” With that, Big Eagle rose and left the tepee.
Jacob sat in the tepee thinking. He thought as to what he should do. He had nowhere to go, and no one to go to. Should he stay with the Indians? Should he go west or perhaps back east? As he pondered these questions, he slowly came to the realization that he liked Big Eagle and God help him, he even liked Suni. So in the few moments he was left to himself, he decided to stay with the Santee Sioux. A decision that would profoundly affect both Jacob and the Sioux.
About then Fighting Woman entered the lodge. “Looking Elk will see you in the morning. Where is father?” “He went to speak with your chief, and to find me a place to live. I have decided to stay for a while.” “That is good Yellow Hair.” “You may call me Yellow Hair, but please don’t call me late for dinner.” Fighting Woman did not understand, “What is that you have said?” “Never mind, it was only a joke. You know … ha … ha.” No, she did not understand, however, she let it pass because she was pleased she would not have to fight with him to stay.
When Big Eagle returned, he announced, “Little Crow has extended the friendship of the Dakotas to the guest of Fighting Woman.” He then went on to say that, Short Bull thought it a good thing to have a young man in his lodge, someone to do the heavy work, even if it is a Wasichu. “He does not speak your tongue Yellow Hair,” added Big Eagle, “Suni will take you there and speak for you. But in time you will have to learn the language of the Dakota.” Jacob thanked Big Eagle for the meal and for his efforts on his behalf. Then he and Fighting Woman left Big Eagle’s lodge.
As they walked through the village that first night on the way to Short Bull’s lodge, Fighting Woman told Jacob that if he was to live among the Dakota, then he must become a Dakota. “You must learn our language as my father has said. And you will learn the way of a brave. Our boys are taught from birth how to be a Dakota, but you are already a man, so you will have to learn quickly. Living with Short Bull is good; it will help you to learn our language.” When she had finished speaking, she stopped short, and asked Jacob, “How many winters are you?” By now Jacob knew what she meant by winters, but he still had to stop and think before answering. Not because he did not know how old he was, but he did not know what month it was. “It was the beginning of June when I took sick; you told me I was out for five sleeps (Jacob was already picking up the vernacular of the Dakota), and it took us ten sleeps to get here. So, I will turn twenty-one winters next month, which should be in a few days, I mean, sleeps.” Fighting Woman looked at Jacob and said. “Month, what is month? Do you mean the Moon When Cherries Are Ripe? (The Dakota labeled the months by moons. July was the Moon When Cherries Are Ripe. May was the Moon When The Ponies Shed and so on.) Jacob answered in the affirmative. In the White culture, one became a man upon reaching his majority, twenty-one. However, in the Dakota culture, a boy became a man when he experienced his Vision Quest, when he would seek a spirit that would protect him for the rest of his life. Some boys went on their Vision Quest as young as fourteen winters. The only thing that Fighting Woman could think of as they walked on was how much work she had ahead of her to make Yellow Hair a Dakota, and the man of her dreams. Then they arrived at Short Bull’s tepee.
Short Bull was a wizened old man of sixty-five winters. In his day, he had been quite the warrior and had the coup feathers to prove it, most of them first coup. The battles had taken their toll on the man. He walked with a pronounced limp, and had multiple scars on most parts of his body where arrows and a few bullets had penetrated. However, living to the ripe old age of sixty-five winters had mellowed the fierce warrior, as it did all men.
When Short Bull heard Fighting Woman’s greeting of, “Dećiya waun,” he immediately went to the entrance of his tepee, threw back the skin, and gave her a smile that would have been dazzling if not for the fact that most of his teeth were missing. When war club met teeth, usually the war club carried the day. “Come in, come in,” exclaimed Short Bull, “and bring your Wasichu with you.”
When Jacob and Fighting Woman were seated, and after Short Bull had offered them something to eat, which they declined, Fighting Woman said, “This is my friend Yellow Hair. He has much to learn, and with your help, he may learn our language. He has been ill, and he may be weak for a while, but when he is well, he will be of help to you. We, he and I, thank you for taking him into your lodge.” Thus was Jacob Arisen on his way to becoming a member the Mdewakanton band of the Great Dakota nation.
The next morning when Fighting Woman and Looking Elk arrived at Short Bull’s lodge, they found Jacob and Short Bull sitting and staring at one another. “Thank God you’re here,” said Jacob. “I cannot understand a word he’s saying.” Then, Short Bull said, “Fighting Woman, your Wasichu is not very bright. He does not understand the words a child should know.” Fighting Woman looked at both men with a look of exasperation, and then said to Jacob, I will start teaching you our language today. And to Short Bull, “He will quickly learn our tongue, but you must be patient. You can help teach him by pointing to what you want and saying the word. Now what is it you wanted Yellow Hair to do?” “Simply to take my hatchet and go and get us some fire wood.” “Short Bull, if he said the same thing in his tongue, you would not know what he was saying. You should have picked up your hatchet and told him the word for it, and then taken him to the wood and shown him what it is you wanted. He is not slow, he will learn words if they are spoken, and he is shown what they mean.” Then she looked around the tepee, saw Short Bull’s hatchet, and picked it up. Holding it out to Jacob she said, “This is onspedan. Short Bull wants you to get some firewood. He will show you where it is, then you cut it into small pieces for his fire. But first, Looking Elk has some medicine for you, drink it and it will make you strong.”
After Looking Elk had administered his potion and left, Fighting Woman took Short Bull by the hand, and then Jacob. She walked them out of the tepee, and to both she said the same thing in their own language, “You two start acting like grown men.” Then to Short Bull she said, “Show him what you want done and he will do it.” To Jacob she said, “Do what Short Bull asks of you. After you two have eaten, I will return and we will begin your lessons.” As the two men walked away, Fighting Woman once again exclaimed, “Men!”
Everyday for the next moon Jacob grew stronger. He was a good pupil, and he had a knack for languages, or at least for the Dakota language. He and Short Bull had warmed up to one another considerably since that first morning. Every morning after Jacob had finished his chores for Short Bull, Fighting Woman would come to teach him the language of the Dakota. In the afternoons, she would teach Jacob how to ride a pony into war, and the different ways to ride it while hunting buffalo, or while hunting rabbits and other small game.
Fighting Woman made for Jacob, a breechclout, a set of moccasins, and a set of leggings. By the time the first moon had passed since coming to the Mdewakanton village, Jacob was dressing as a brave. His skin was getting brown from the sun and when he asked Fighting Woman to cut his hair he was told a brave needs long hair to braid so that it may hold his coup feathers.
As Jacob became more proficient in their language, other members of the village got to know him, and the little children were no longer afraid of him. At first they followed him with their eyes, and then as their hearts grew braver, they would follow at a distance then one day Jacob stopped and turned to the children who were following him and told them to come to him. At first they stood frozen, not knowing whether to run, or act brave and stand their ground. Then the youngest of the group walked up to Jacob and looked up at the tall Wasichu. Jacob sat down on his heels and asked the youngster his name. The boy did not answer. He stood transfixed, staring at Jacob’s yellow hair. Then tentatively, he reached out to touch it, and Jacob allowed him to do so. Before he knew it, all the other children were crowded around him with their hands in his hair. From that day on, the children of the village referred to him as Uncle Yellow Hair.
By the beginning of the second moon after his arrival in the village, Fighting Woman no longer spoke to Jacob in English. She told him that now that he knew how to ride a horse (surprisingly, Jacob had never ridden a horse before), and could speak to her in her own tongue, it was time for him to become a Dakota. “The four things that make a man a man are bravery, fortitude (the endurance of pain), generosity, and wisdom. You will find that the fourth grows out of excellence of the first three.” Fighting Woman went on to say, “You have asked me many times what coup feathers were, and I told you I would tell you when the time was right. Well, this is the time.”
“First coup is striking an enemy at close range with a coup stick. Second coup is killing your enemy after first coup. However, just because you have first coup does not mean that you are entitled to second coup. Anyone may rush in and kill the enemy and claim second coup after you have called first coup. First coup feathers are much desired, more so than second coup feathers. For to claim first coup, to attack the enemy in hand-to-hand combat, shows true bravery,” explained Fighting Woman. She went on to say, “When you have struck the enemy, yell your name and say, ’I have overcome this one’. After the battle you will need witnesses to claim coup. That is why you shout your name, so others will witness your coup. If you receive a wound or rescue a comrade, you claim third coup. And if you capture a horse that is fourth coup. If you have a witness to your deeds of bravery, you will be awarded your coup feathers at Wakté-gli (the Kill dance, a celebration after a victory) and be expected to tell of your deeds.”
Jacob was thinking that this in no way would affect him. As far as he knew he had no enemies. And if he did, killing them, or knocking them off a horse with a coup stick would not be the way he would go about settling matters. When he conveyed those thoughts to Fighting Woman, she simply said cowards are not welcome by the Mdewakanton. Then she informed Jacob that their enemies where his enemies as long as he resided with them. “The Chippewa’s are our worse enemies; we have been at war with them for many, many winters. It is they who drove us from Knife Lake. They are still trying to drive us from our land. But I do not fear that you will not fight when the time comes.” She finished with, “Enough for now, tomorrow I will have Looking Elk tell you of our religion. It is late; we must go to our lodges.”
After walking Fighting Woman to her tepee and paying his respects to Big Eagle, Jacob started for Short Bull’s lodge. As he walked, the little boy who had first approached him and touched his hair came up and walked along side of him. Jacob looked down at the little fellow and said hello. The little guy, who was about six winters old, said, “Uncle Yellow Hair where are you going?” To which Jacob replied, “I am going home.” And as he said that he realized that he had not though of Short Bull’s tepee as home until that moment. It stunned him, “Yes it is my home. Short Bull has treated me as a son.” It made Jacob smile to know that he did indeed have a home once again.
When the boy saw Jacob smile, he smiled also. Looking down at that smiling face, Jacob realized he had never bothered to ask the boy’s name after their first encounter. The boy had walked with him many times and had never said anything more than “Uncle Yellow Hair.” So Jacob got down on one knee and asked the boy his name. For now I am called Running Close, but when I am big and go on the warpath and get many feathers, I will have a new name.”
Jacob knew what the boy meant. Fighting Woman had told him that male children usually did not keep the name given at birth. After a Vision Quest, a name might be changed, or, after a young brave had distinguished himself in battle his father may give his name as an honor, taking a new name for himself. Fighting Woman was an exception. Until her fourteenth winter she was know as Red Eagle Woman, but in that year, she followed a war party that had set out to steal horses from the Chippewa’s. She did not know exactly what she was going to do, but knew she wanted to participate in someway. She thought it unfair that the men should have all the fun. Before they could reach the Chippewa’s camp the men were attacked. When Red Eagle Woman saw what was happening, she, without thought, charged into the battle wielding a tomahawk. The first Chippewa she met, she embedded the tomahawk in the top of his skull. As the now dead Chippewa fell off his horse, and because she would not release her hold on the tomahawk, she was pulled from her pony by his “dead” weight. As she fell to the ground, her head hit a boulder, knocking her unconscious. The Mdewakanton prevailed, and afterwards she was found unconscious, still holding onto the tomahawk, which was still in the Chippewa’s head.
Her father had not been on that raid. There was to be no fighting, just the stealing of some horses in the night. When she was brought back to the village, and brought to her father’s tepee still unconscious, he feared the worse. But when told she was alive with a strong heartbeat, he became angry. He told the brave holding her to place her on her skins, and then sat down to wait for her to regain consciousness.
By the time the Kill Dance was under way, Red Eagle Woman was sitting up rubbing her head wondering what had happened. Her father was patient; he wanted her fully awake before he scolded her. But before she was fully conscious, and before Big Eagle could commence with his scolding, a group of braves that had been on the raid called out to Big Eagle, “May we enter your lodge?” “Of course, you are always welcome,” was his reply.
The spokesman for the group asked Big Eagle if he would allow Red Eagle Woman to attend the Kill Dance and tell of her coups. She had two, first and second. Big Eagle’s first thought was to throw them out of his tepee, but then he saw the sparkle in his daughter’s eyes and relented. “She may do as she wishes, I am only her father,” he said with a smile.
At the Kill Dance when it was her time to speak, two braves stepped forward, and each in turn told how they had found her with the dead Chippewa. Then Little Crow, the chief of their band, stood and told Red Eagle Woman to stand and approach. He handed her two feathers, one for striking the enemy, and one for killing him. He then asked her to tell of her coups.
For a moment she still looked dazed. Then she looked to her father for help. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say,” This is your doing, not mine.” Finally, she said, “I am sorry, I remember nothing. The last thing that I remember is kicking my horse; I wanted to get into the fight before it was over.” With that, all those assembled burst out in laughter, even Big Eagle.
Big Eagle then stood and walked over to Little Crow. After a few moments of discussion, Little Crow sat back down while Big Eagle remained standing. He held up his hands for silence. When all eyes were upon him, he said, “Little Crow and I have decided that my daughter has earned a new name. However, we will give her the choice of one of two. Please come to me daughter.” When Red Eagle Woman was standing before her father, he said, “Choose your name. Is it to be Forgets Woman, or Fighting Woman?” This was his and Little Crow’s way of chastising her for going on the raid. They knew what name she would choose. From that day forward, she has been known as Fighting Woman.
When Jacob returned “home” that evening, Short Bull was sitting in his usual place doing the best he could with an ear of corn despite his lack of teeth. Jacob greeted him, “Good evening grandfather. (Jacob had heard others addressing Short Bull in like manner) If you like I will prepare us some food.” “No, Yellow Hair, this will do, but you have something to eat.” “Maybe later, but if I may, I would like to talk with you.” “We talk every night. Why so formal tonight?” “Well, I would like to speak about you and your youth.” “I should warn you that there is nothing old men like more than speaking of the deeds of their youth.” Jacob smiled, walked over to where Short Bull was sitting, and sat down in front of him.
Jacob began with, “I would like to speak of war.” “My favorite subject,” responded Short Bull. “I guess what I want to know is, why do the Mdewakanton fight the Chippewa for generation after generation. I am told you were at war with them when you were a boy.” “Yellow Hair, we have been at war with the Chippewa long before I was born.” “But why? You do a raid, they retaliate, they steal some horses, and you steal some horses. It never ends. What is the point?” When Short Bull had listened to what Jacob had to say, he put down the ear of corn, which he was not making much headway with anyway, and picked up a pipe that lay next to him. He took his time getting the bowl burning, using the time to think. Finally, he said, “There is more to it than what you see. You look at things as a Wasichu, which is how it should be. But you must understand our way of life. There is nothing more important to us, to both men and woman, than bravery. A woman will have nothing to do with a man if he is not brave. Members of our village will shun a man who is cowardly in battle.” “But …” “No let me finish Yellow Hair. And there is only one way to prove bravery, and that is in battle. Yes, one can be brave during a buffalo surround. Some bulls can be dangerous, but it is not the same thing as facing another man who wants to kill you as badly as you want to kill him. My people need to go on the warpath a few times a year so that the young men who have not been in battle yet can prove their bravery. Wait a minute while I reload my pipe. I am happy you do not use tobacco, there would be less for me.”
After his pipe was refilled, Short Bull continued, “You see that stick over there with the feathers hanging from it? That is my coup stick and those are my coup feathers. Without those, I would have to live with my granddaughter and the man she married, not to mention that terrible mother of his. But because I was once a great warrior, and have the coup feathers to prove it, I do not go hungry. The women bring me the corn and other things they grow in the summer. Men will put aside a choice piece of buffalo meat and give it to me when they return from the hunt. I will tell you Yellow Hair that there is no feeling in this world like the feeling you get as you yell, ‘Hoka hey’ (Come on charge) and gallop right up to your enemy.”As Short Bull spoke, his pipe went out; however, he did not relight it. Instead, he stared at the bowl lost in thought. Perhaps he was thinking of past battles and how he had been praised and admired at the Kill Dances afterwards.
When Short Bear finally looked up from his pipe he said, “There is one other thing that makes a man fight.” Jacob, thinking the conversation at an end, had stood and was about to leave to get some firewood, instead he sat back down and asked, “What is that?” “Hatred.” “How can you hate people you don’t know?” “It is easy Yellow Hair. When you see a raiding party enter your village and kill your son, or your mother, or your best friend, the hatred rises from somewhere within you. And once there, it stays a long time.” Jacob thought for a moment, and then said, “Perhaps you are right. I once threaten a man for insulting my sister even though she did not grasp the meaning of his words.” Then Short Bull smiled his toothless smile, “I am old now, some of the hatred has left me. And the older I get, the less I hate.”
The next morning, as Jacob and Fighting Woman walked to Looking Elk’s tepee, the little boy, Running Close, came up to Jacob and held out a small knife. It was not much more than a toy, but it did have a steel blade. “What is this?” asked Jacob. “It is for you when you go on the war path Uncle Yellow Hair,” answered the boy. Jacob took the proffered knife and inspected it, saying, “Will not you need this when you go on the war path my little friend?” “When I am old enough, and ready to battle our enemies, you can return it,” informed Running Close. Jacob smiled at the little boy who had become his friend, thanked him, and said that he would always carry it with him. Running Close grinned from ear to ear, turned, and ran back from where he came. When Fighting Woman saw the exchange between the two, she thought, he, Yellow Hair, would make a good father.
When they reached Looking Elk’s tepee, he was sitting outside waiting for them. As they approached, he stood and said to Fighting Woman, “You will not be needed this morning. Yellow Hair and I have things to discuss that do not concern women.” Now, Fighting Woman was not put off by Looking Elk’s words. She knew what they would speak of; in fact, she had told Looking Elk the previous day what she wanted him to say to Yellow Hair. However, she pretended umbrage at his declaration, raised her chin in the air, turn, and walked off with a smile that neither man could see. As Looking Elk and Yellow Hair watched the retreating figure of Fighting Woman, Looking Elk said, “Come; let us walk in the forest.” Jacob shrugged and followed.
When they had reached a clearing in the woods, and wasting no time, Looking Elk got right down to business. “It is the Moon When Calves Grow Hair (September). Soon it will be the Moon Of The Changing Season (October). Then we will fold our tepees, put our children upon pony drags, and go hunt the buffalo. We live in this village only during the warm moons when the women can grow corn and turnips, when the men can hunt the deer and the elk. The buffalo feed us in winter; the village nourishes us in summer.”
By now Jacob was wondering what Looking Elk was leading up to. He did not have long to wait. “Yellow Hair, before we go to hunt the buffalo, you must attend to your Vision Quest.” To which Jacob said, “Me? Vision Quest, what are you speaking of?” “Before you can become a man you would seek a spirit that will protect you for the rest of your life.” “I am already a man,” asserted Jacob. “If you are to be a member of our band, you will seek your vision,” said Looking Elk. He then turned and started to walk away, but stopped, and said, “You have little time, when you are ready I will prepare you.” He then left Jacob standing alone in the clearing, in the woods, and in confusion.
Fighting woman was waiting for Jacob when he returned to Short Bull’s tepee. When he entered she looked at him expectantly, however, he said nothing. He sat down, seemingly lost in thought. After a few minutes, Fighting Woman asked if there was anything wrong. Instead of answering her question, Jacob asked, “Where is Short Bull?” “He went to visit his granddaughter. What is troubling you Yellow Hair? “Nothing, it is just I wish everyone would stop thinking of me as less a man because I do not follow your ways. Looking Elk tells me I cannot be a man unless I have Vision Quest.”
Fighting Woman stood and walked over to Jacob where she knelt before him. She took both his hands in hers and looking up into his blue eyes, said, “The Vision Quest was my idea. I am sorry. I know you are a man. You are the man that I love, but our ways, I believe, will make you a better man.”
To say the least, Jacob was dumbfounded. Not once in the three moons that he had known her has she, in word or deed, indicated feelings for him. He looked at her kneeling before him, and for the first time saw her as a woman. Then he noticed that she did not have on her customary breechclout and shirt. She was wearing a deerskin dress. In addition, her hair was not braided; it fell down over her shoulders. No, he thought, it cascaded down over her shoulders. “Why this girl, no, this woman, is beautiful,” he thought. Right then and there, he wanted to kiss her, however, his Yankee upbringing kept the impulse at bay.
For at least a minute, they sat there looking into one another’s eyes. Finally, Jacob said, “Suni, if you want me to do a Vision Quest, I will do a Vision Quest. Tell Looking Elk that I am ready.” Upon hearing those words, Fighting Woman, not having been brought up as a Yankee, kissed Jacob full on the mouth and ran out of the tepee.
After Fighting Woman left the tepee, Jacob thought, “Women!”
The next morning Fighting Woman collected Jacob from Short Bull’s lodge and escorted him to Looking Elk’s. When they arrived, he was waiting for them outside, where he told Fighting Woman, “I will speak with Yellow hair. Go bring Circling Hawk.” When she had gone, Looking Elk pointed to his tepee and told Jacob to go inside.
Once they were seated, Looking Elk told Jacob of the Vision Quest. “The Vision Quest was given to us by White Buffalo Woman. It is sacred. “You will first take inipi (a sweat bath) to cleanse your body. Next, you will be taken to place of solitude and you will wear only your breechclout and moccasins. You must not eat until you have had your vision, so you will bring no food with you. You will then pray to Wakan Tan’ka to send you a vision. A vision usually comes on the third or fourth day. Once you have had your vision, the Wichasha Wakan will interpret it for you. Then you will be Dakota, even if you have yellow hair.”
As Looking Elk finished speaking, Fighting Woman entered with a man of about forty winters. He was tall and broad in the chest. He looked more like a warrior than a Wichasha Wakan, which is what he was. Looking Elk spoke. “This is Circling Hawk. He is a dreamer, a man who dreams sacred dreams. He also interprets the dreams of others. He will tell us what your vision means.” He then turned to Fighting Woman and told her that she must leave, adding, “This is no place for a woman.”
In the past when men tried to exclude her from their activities, be it hunting or war, she would jut out her jaw and inform them of the fact that she could do anything they could do, and do it better. However, in this instance she was facing the only two men of her village, the medicine man, and the Wichasha Wakan, who knew of things that she did not. Therefore, she kept her mouth shut, for a change, smiled at the three men, and left the tepee without a word. When Fighting Woman was gone, Looking Elk told Jacob that it was time start. That they would go to his sweat lodge by the river, and start to heat the stones. Then Jacob would enter the lodge to be purified. When that was accomplished, he would enter the cold water of the river. Then he would be taken to a holy place to stay until Wakan Tan’ka sent him a vision.
Four days later, Looking Elk went in search of Jacob when he had not returned to the Village. He found him lying on the ground staring up at the sky. Looking Elk’s first thought was, “I should have known that the Wasichu could not follow the way of the Dakota. The fool is near death from not having eaten.” He then walked over to Jacob and looked down into his eyes. What he saw was not a half starved Wasichu, but a man in the throes of ecstasy.
Looking Elk: “Did you have your vision?”
Jacob: “Yes
Looking Elk: “Then why did you not return to the village?”
Jacob: “Because I wanted to ponder what I saw.”
Looking Elk: “It is not for you interpret your vision. It is for the Wichasha Wakan to do so.”
Jacob: “Yes that is true, and I welcome his wisdom in helping me understand what I saw. But I believe Wakan Tan’ka spoke to me, and his words are trying to reach my spirit. Until they do, I will stay here and think.”
Looking Elk: “When did Wakan Tan’ka speak to you?”
Jacob: “Yesterday.”
Looking Elk: “After not having eaten anything for three days, you stayed another day to ‘think’.”
Jacob: “Yes. But I will go with you now. It is time that I become a Dakota. And we will see what Circling Hawk has to say.”
Jacob stood and smiled at Looking Elk, “It is a beautiful day. I thank you for coming to bring me home.” Looking Elk thought, “Either all Wasichus are crazy, or something extraordinary happen with this one.”
When Jacob returned to Short Bull’s tepee, cleaned himself, and had eaten, Circling Hawk and Looking Elk called out for permission to enter. “Come in my friends,” answered Jacob from inside the tepee. “Short bull is not here; however, I will make you comfortable and hear what you have to say.” The two men looked at one another as if to say, “Is this the same Wasichu we sent into the woods only four days ago?”
After the three were seated, Jacob pulled out Short Bull’s pipe, filled it with red willow bark, and said, “White Buffalo Woman has shown us the way. In remembrance of her, we smoke the sacred pipe.” With that declaration, the two men could contain themselves no longer. They both, at the same time, asked Jacob what he knew of White Buffalo Woman. “Until yesterday, only what Suni has told me. But now I understand; now I know what White Buffalo Woman was trying to tell the Dakota.”
“And you, a Wasichu, know what White Buffalo Woman was ‘trying’ to tell us,” asked, Looking Elk. Jacob caught the sarcasm in Looking Elk’s voice. “I only know what Wakan Tan’ka has told me,” retorted Jacob. “And if I may ask, what is it that Wakan Tan’ka has told you?” Jacob, reverting to the parlance of the Wasichu, said, “I thought you would never ask.”
So the boy born Jacob Arisen, but who was now the man Yellow Hair, spoke. “White Buffalo Woman told the Dakota that Wakan Tan’ka resides in the sky, in the earth, the trees, plants, and grasses, and rocks. Is that not so?” “Looking Elk, after a quick glance at Circling Hawk, said, “Yes that is true.” Then Yellow Hair went on. Wakan Tan’ka lives in all of the Dakota. Is that also not true?” “Yes, Yellow Hair that is true,” answered Circling Hawk. Yellow Hair continued, “Wakan Tan’ka is in all living things, is that not true?” Both men, Looking Elk and Circling Hawk, just nodded.
At this point, Yellow Hair pulled on the pipe. After blowing the smoke into the air, he said. “Then, my friends, it stands to reason that Wakan Tan’ka lives in the Chippewa, the Crow, the Flatheads, the Pawnee, in all the people; yes even in the Wasichus.” Then he stretched out his hand holding the pipe. The two men seated in front of Yellow Hair, both of whom were older and wiser than he, looked at one another before Circling Hawk reached out and accepted the pipe.
“What you say is true Yellow Hair. Wakan Tan’ka lives in all of us,” countered Circling Hawk. But what you fail to realize is that Wakan Tan’ka cannot be harmed. If it were not his wish that we war with the other people on his earth, it would not happen. Wakan Tan’ka looks down on us from the sky and nothing happens that is not his wish. When we war with the Pawnee or the Chippewa, he takes no side. We do not beseech him to grant us victory. He does not concern himself with the petty wantings of men. It is not for us to discern Wakan Tan’ka plan for us.” Having spoken his words, the Wichasha Wakan handed the pipe to Looking Elk.
Looking Elk accepted the pipe and spoke, “What was your vision Yellow Hair?”
“I was on a prairie. The grass was tall; it reached up past my knees. I had a bow and quiver of arrows across my shoulder. In my right hand I held a lance that was much taller than I, and from the lance, hung a single eagle feather. I stood alone, and for as far as I could see, there was only prairie.

“Then a black cloud covered the sun, and a ray of light passed through a hole in the cloud and fell just before me. From the light stepped a beautiful woman wearing a white deerskin dress. She approached me and took my free hand. I was still holding the lance. She then pointed to the sun, and said, ‘The father lives there’. Then she pointed to the earth beneath our feet and said, ‘Our mother’. Letting go of my hand, she walked to the place where she had first appeared, sat down in the tall grass, and I could not see her. However, from that place arose a white buffalo.
“The buffalo spoke to me. ‘Everything on the earth is of Wakan Tan’ka. From the dirt upon which we stand, to the smallest rocks, to the prairie rabbits, to the elk and deer of the woods, to the wolves and the great bears, and to the Dakota’. Then the buffalo said, ‘Wakan Tan’ka lives in all, including your enemies’. He then changed into a great mountain lion whose head stood above the tall grass; it then sprang at me. Without thinking, I raised the lance, and the mountain lion was impaled upon it.”
When Circling Hawk was sure that Yellow Hair had finished speaking, he said, “I will tell you the meaning of your vision. “Yes Wakan Tan’ka lives in everything of the earth, including our enemies. What the woman, the buffalo, and the mountain lion were telling you, is that when it comes time to defend yourself you will fight, and kill if you have to.”
When he had finished speaking, Circling Hawk rose and walked to the entrance of the tepee. Before leaving he told Yellow Hair that there would be a ceremony celebrating his vision, and at that time he would be accepted into the Mdewakanton band of the Dakota. He finished with, “At such times a new name is given to the one who has completed his Vision Quest. However, because you are older and already have the name given you by Fighting Woman, you will remain Yellow Hair. He then turned and left the tepee.
After Circling Hawk had left, Looking Elk stared at Yellow Hair for a long time before he spoke. “Will you be going with the young braves on the next raiding party?” Yellow Hair answered, “I will go to prove my bravery. I will get first coup, but I will leave second coup to others. I will not kill.” Looking Elk shook his head and said, “Did you not listen to Circling Hawk? Did you not hear his words?” “Yes I heard his words, and perhaps the time will come when I will have to kill. But to kill to steal a horse I will not do.” “You are older than most boys at the time of the Vision Quest, but you are still young. I know you will learn our ways, it was in your vision.” Yellow Hair thought for a moment, and then said, “That is a fence I will climb when I get to it.” Smiling, Looking Elk said, “We Indians say, ‘That is a path I will walk when I come to it. We have no fences on our land.” There were no fences that day on the Mdewakanton land, however, they were coming, and so were the Wasichus.
That night Yellow Hair was made a member of the Dakota.
In the days that followed, Yellow Hair and Suni spent much time together hunting deer and other game. It was during those hunting excursions that Yellow Hair fell in love with Suni. She of course had loved him from the moment she laid eyes on him, even before. She had been in love with the Wasichu with the yellow hair ever since she was a little girl and saw him in her vision. It was also during those hunting forays that Yellow Hair became proficient with the bow and arrow.
Suni had taught Yellow Hair how to make a bow. How to choose the green wood that would bend easily, ash was the best. And how to bend it against a tree and tie it off to two stakes on either side of the tree until it dried in the desired shape. She also taught him how to string a bow with the sinew from buffalo legs. And she taught him how to make arrows and to use the feathers of the turkey to give his arrows true aim.
One day they stopped to rest in a small glade. They had been stalking a deer, but had lost it when the wind changed and it caught their scent. With Suni lying flat on the ground looking up at clouds, and Yellow Hair lying next to her, but up on one elbow and looking down at her, he asked her the Mdewakanton procedure for marriage. She turned to him, smiled, like women do, and answered his question with a question, also like women do. “Are you thinking of getting married?” “Yes, I thought it time I settled down. Do you know any eligible women in the village? I would prefer one with a rich father.”
Suni sat up. Her first impulse was to hit Yellow Hair in the chest with her fist. However, she thought better of it when she saw the grin on his face. So she decided to play along. “There are three ways a man may take a wife. First, if her father will not permit the marriage, he can run away with her and live in another village. Or, the father can give him the woman. Or, and this is the best way, he can buy the woman from her father.”
Yellow Hair had to think about that. “Why is buying the woman the best way? Would it not be better to get her without paying?” Suni answered, “It is not best for the man, it is best for the woman. For the rest of her life she can say that her husband loved her so much that he paid for her.” “How much does a woman cost?” was Yellow Hair’s sensible question. “It depends on how many ponies the man has.” “I have no ponies, so the woman I marry will never know how much I love her.” “Do you love her very much,” asked Suni. “Yes I do. She saved my life and has taught me the ways of her people. She is blessed by Wakan Tan’ka with good looks and a strong body. And she has the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen on a woman.”
Upon hearing what Yellow hair said, Suni threw her arms around him and kissed him. Yellow Hair, not use to the way Indians outwardly showed affection, tried to disentangle himself. But Suni would not let go. Finally bowing to the inevitable, Yellow Hair thought, “When in Rome.” There was no more hunting that day.
They returned to the village late in the evening. Suni was dragging, by the hand, a reluctant Yellow Hair. “Come, you can speak with my father tonight. We can be man and wife as soon as he gives me to you,” exulted Suni. “Perhaps I can speak with him tomorrow. It is late and I do not want to bother him.”
Now, Yellow Hair still wanted to marry Suni. He loved her very much. However, like any man, in any culture, he was hesitant to confront the girl’s father. “I have no ponies to offer him.” “Do not worry, I will tell my father to give you one of his.” “I think Short Bull might be waiting for me. He expects me to build the fire.” “Yellow Hair, do you want me or do you not?” “Of course I want you. I want to marry you.” “Then be quiet and come with me.”
Yellow Hair knew he would have to beard the lion in his den; he would have to face Big Eagle sooner or later, and Suni had decided that it was to be sooner. So he stood erect and squared his shoulders, saying, “Take me to your father.
When all was said and done, Yellow Hair thought, “That was not so bad.” Not only did Big Eagle not throw him out of his tepee, he gave him, at Suni’s insistence, a young, sorrel pony. His name was Wind Catcher, so named because of his speed.
After receiving Big Eagle’s blessing, Suni walked part of the way to Short Bull’s tepee with Yellow Hair. “Just think, this is your last sleep with Short Bull. Tomorrow you and I will sleep together in my father’s lodge.” That stopped Yellow Hair in his tracks. “I had not thought of that. We should have our own lodge, but until we do, we can live with Short Bull. I am sure that he would not mind.” He was thinking that it would not be easy to act in a married way with Suni’s father sleeping only a few feet away.
“No, it is not right that we sleep with Short Bull, he is not family. I know what you are thinking Yellow Hair, but do not worry. Tomorrow night we will sleep in our own tepee. In the morning we will cut pine poles for our own lodge. And for now, we will find skins here in our village. But next moon we go to hunt the buffalo. We will get fine new skins then. I am a good hunter, but you will be a great hunter my husband.” She then kissed her man and ran off in the direction of her father’s lodge. Yellow Hair looked after the running figure until he lost sight of her in the darkness. As he walked on to Short Bull’s tepee he felt as though his feet never touched the ground. He was in love, and when one is in love, one is constantly floating on air. Just ask any young person who is in love.
The next day, because she could not sleep, Suni was at Short Bull’s lodge before the sun came up, and before Yellow Hair and Short Bull were awake. Without asking to be permitted inside, she entered the tepee and shook Yellow Hair awake. “Come we must cut the poles for our tepee.”
When Yellow Hair opened his eyes, he beheld the love of his life standing over him with an axe in her hand. His first thought was that she must have changed her mind about marrying him. But as the fog of sleep left his head, he heard, “Come it is getting late.” “Is the sun up yet?” “No, but we must get an early start if we are to sleep in our own tepee tonight.” Like woman everywhere, Suni could not wait to be in her own home, with her own man. And like most woman, she would make it a loving place, one that her man would want to come home to.
By now the conversation had awakened Short Bull who grumbled, “Go with her Yellow Hair, and let an old man sleep.”
Suni finally got Yellow Hair up and outside the tepee. Their horses were waiting for them, Suni’s pinto and Yellow Hair’s sorrel. They were both saddled with the rawhide saddles that the Plains Indians used. “I have brought our ponies because it is too far to walk to the pine woods” Yellow Hair hesitated before mounting his horse. Looking up at Suni who was mounted and ready to go, he asked, “What about something to eat it first? I am hungry.” Pointing to the skin hanging from his saddle, Suni said, “There is food in there. You can eat while we ride.” Yellow Hair thought that once they were married, he would have to assert himself. But he wanted a tepee of their own as badly as Suni did, so he got on his horse and followed her out of the village.
As they rode north, the sun made an appearance on their right and Suni spoke of their tepee and how she would provide a good home life for the two of them. In the Dakota culture, at least at that time, it was the woman who ran the household. True, they had no voice at the councils, but the women influenced their men within the lodge. And that influence translated into tribal decisions made by the men.
After the sun was up, and Yellow Hair had eaten some of the food brought by Suni, he asked a question that had been on his mind since he walked out of Short Bull’s tepee. “When is the ceremony?” Suni looked perplexed and asked, “Of what ceremony do you speak?” “Our marriage ceremony of course.” Suni then rode closer to Yellow Hair and said, “Give me your hand.” Yellow Hair did as he was asked. When Suni had a firm grip, she said, “My dear husband, we have been married since last night when my father gave me to you.”
Now it was Yellow Hair’s turn to look perplexed. “You mean we do not get married by the medicine man, or a holy man, something like that?” “No, why would we? The only ones that matter are you and I.” “Then why did you not stay with me last night?” Suni thought a moment before answering. For two reasons husband. You did not want to stay in my father’s tepee, and Short Bull did not invite me into his. But tonight we will sleep together in our own tepee.” “So we are married right now?” “Yes, as I have said, since last night.”As soon as Yellow Hair heard Suni’s answer to his query, he kicked his horse and gallop into the woods.
When Suni saw Yellow Hair riding away, she thought that he had changed his mind about marring her. However, she was not about to let him off that easy. She spurred her horse forward and followed him into the woods. When she caught up with him, he was dismounted and sitting under a tree. She jumped off her horse and walked up to him. Then standing over him, with hands on her hips, she said in a not so soft voice, “If you think you can give me back to my father you are …” And that’s as far as she got. Yellow Hair had reached up, grabbed her by her right hand, and pulled her to him. Now they both were on the ground, and Yellow Hair said, “You are my wife. You are no longer Fighting Woman, you are Suni.” He then kissed her, and right there on the grass, under an old oak tree, they made love.
When they had finished, and lay entwined in each other’s arms, Suni said, “That was wonderful, but I think it would be better in our own tepee. But you are the man. When you say it is time to get our lodge poles, then we will get our lodge poles, and not before.” Yellow Hair sighed; it was going to be tough breaking this filly known as Suni. However, out loud, he said, “Let us go. You have to get our tepee up before dark.” And then he winked at her. For it was woman’s work to erect and dismantle the tepees when the village moved.
Working together, they had their pine poles cut and back to the village by the time the sun was directly over head. And Suni managed to secure enough skins to cover the poles, with a few left over to sleep on. So it was, in the year of Lord 1850, and during the Moon When Calves Grow Hair, Yellow Hair and Suni started their life together. It would not be a long life together. However the love experienced in the short time they had was enough for two lifetimes.
Suni and Yellow Hair were married and built there lodge in the middle of the Moon When Calves Grow Hair (September). The village was set to move to the plains near the end of the Moon of Changing Season (October) to hunt the buffalo. It was a seasonal trek for the Mdewakanton, for five moons they would live off the buffalo. Then when the Moon of the Snowblind (March) arrived they would migrate back to the shores of the Missouri River at the southern end of the Minnesota Territory. During the winter moons they also replenish their stock of buffalo leg sinew, used for bow strings and sewing. They would render the hoofs for glue, used for myriad purposes, such as securing the flights to arrows and repairing clay pots. Of course, the skins were used to cover the tepees, to sleep upon, and to wear in the winter.
Because of the impending move, the people were in a high state anticipation and none more so than the children. Running Close followed Yellow Hair when he and Suni left in the mornings to collect ash saplings, which were used for the making of arrows. Many arrows were used in the hunting of buffalo. If an arrow hit bone it could break at the tip, or fracture along its length. Yellow Hair put Running Close to work scouting the woods for appropriate saplings. The little boy relished the responsibility and ran from sapling to sapling asking if it were any good. As a reward for his “help,” Yellow Hair made a small bow and four blunt arrows and presented them to Running Close. From then on wherever Yellow Hair went, Running Close was close by.
One morning Suni decided to stay behind, so Yellow Hair left their lodge and headed for the woods alone, many more arrows were needed. Before he had gotten far, he heard the familiar cry, “Uncle Yellow Hair wait for me!” He knew without turning around that Running Close would be running to catch up with him. However, when he did turn around, there was not just one child hurrying toward him, but five. When the children reached him, Running Close said, “This is my brother Brown Wing and his friends, they wanted to meet you.” Brown Wing was about nine or ten winters, as were his friends.
Yellow Hair said hello to the boys and then asked the other three their names. “Breaking Up,” answered the tallest. “I am Against Something When Crawling,” piped up another. And the last to speak informed Yellow Hair that his name was Killing Ghost. “Glad to meet you fine young men. Are you ready to hunt the buffalo?” They assured him that indeed they were ready, if only their parents would allow them to participate. Yellow Hair asked them if they would like to join him and Running Close. He was told that they were on an errand for Breaking Up’s father and politely declined. Those four boys, at a later date, were to be the tinder that ignited a war between the United States of America and the Santee Sioux.
After they had collected their quota of saplings, Yellow Hair and Running Close returned to the village. The saplings had to be cut, and both ends whittled down and notched. Then the arrow heads had to be chipped and knapped, and lodged into the cleft at the head of the arrow. Finally the flights had to be cut and glued to the shaft. It took all afternoon, but when he had finished, with help from Running Close, Yellow Hair had thirty more arrows to add to the over two hundred he and Suni had already made.
As Yellow Hair was collecting his tools, Suni walked up him with her hands behind her back. “Are you two men finished for the day?” “Yes, we have made many arrows today,” responded Running Close. “That is good because I have something for my hard working men.” She then brought out from behind her back what looked like two pieces of deerskin. What she held were sheaths to hold knives, one larger than the other. The larger of the two, over twelve inches long, was fringed and had a yellow orb painted on its face. Surrounding the orb were four lines, two vertical, and two horizontal.
“This is for carrying your knife husband.” Yellow Hair had been using the belt he wore when he left Concord to secure his knife. But because he kept the knife finely honed, he complained to Suni that one day he was going to cut himself if he was not careful.
Yellow Hair reached to his left and pulled the knife from his belt and handed it to Running Close. Then from his right, he took the little knife that Running Close had given him and asked him to hold that also. “You see I told you I would always carry it with me.” After removing the belt, he inserted it through the slits that were there for that purpose. He then put the belt back around his waist, took his knife from Running Close, and slid it into its new sheath. “It is a perfect fit. How did you know?” “I traced the knife onto the deerskin last night while you slept.” Yellow Hair beamed a broad smile and kissed his wife in way of thanks.
Suni said,” I painted the image of Takuskanakan, the father, to protect you my husband. Then she looked at Running Close and handed him the smaller sheath. “See if your knife will fit this.” The smaller sheath was also fringed had an orb painted on it. However, the orb was white and smaller than the yellow one on the other sheath. “On this one I painted the wife of Takuskanakan, the moon.” Running Close slipped the little knife into the sheath, it fit perfectly.
Yellow Hair looked at Suni and winked. Then he looked at Running Close and said, “Why not hold that for me. As you can see I have one, and I think my little friend should also have a knife. You never know when you may need it. Bring it back tomorrow and I will put a blade on it for you.”
Running Close smiled before saying, “I know how to sharpen it. My father has taught me.” Without saying another word he took off running, presumably to get a strip of rawhide so he could proudly wear his knife in his new sheath. But after a few steps, he halted and turned to Suni, “Woman of Yellow Hair I thank you for this great gift.” Then he was gone. Yellow Hair looked at Suni and said, “Woman of Yellow Hair I also thank you for this great gift,” then went about collecting his tools. When he had everything, he put his free arm around Suni, and together they walked to their lodge. “… I thank you for this gift” were to be the last words they would ever hear little Running Close speak.
The next morning, because the weather was turning cold, Suni and Yellow Hair stayed in bed longer than they normally would have. Of course, being in love and enjoying each other’s company had nothing to do with it. Not much.
Finally, Suni said, “Have I married a lazy man who wants only to sleep all day?” “I have not been doing much sleeping since we have been married,” was Yellow Hair retort. “Well, get dressed husband, we need another eighty arrows for the winter, and we leave in seven sleeps.” “I can make the rest in two sleeps. How about staying in bed all day?” “We also need pine poles for our pony drag.” “Yellow Hair was not serious. The conversation was one they had, in various forms, since they were married
A pony dray consisted of two lodge poles, crossed over the back of the pony, with the ends trailing on the ground. Between the poles was stretched a buffalo hide that carried the rolled up tepee, small children, supplies, and whatever else needed to be transported.
Once the word play was out of the way, they got out of their warm and comfortable buffalo skin, and dressed. The last item Yellow Hair put on was the belt with his knife hanging from it.
Suni always took longer to dress than Yellow Hair, so he said, “While you dress and prepare the food, I will see if Short Bull needs any help with the firewood, or anything else. I will be right back. He started to leave, but remembered something and walked back to where Suni was braiding her hair and kissed her.
Just then from outside the tepee, they heard the screams of women and what sounded like war shouts. Yellow Hair told Suni to stay in the tepee, and that he would see what was going on. Upon stepping outside he could not believe what he was seeing. Running through the village were Indians not of his band, and painted for war. Some held war clubs. A stout stick about two feet long with a fork at its end. Within the fork rested a heavy stone held firmly in place by rawhide that was tied when wet and left to dry in the sun where it would shrink. A blow from a war club could crush a man’s skull or shatter bone, depending on where it landed.
Before he could think of what to do, Suni was standing beside him with her war club in hand. “They are Chippewa, take this.” And she handed the war club to Yellow Hair. The she continued, “I am only a woman. I will wait here for your return. You will not have any trouble telling the Chippewa from our braves because they will be the only one’s painted. Our men have not have time to put on paint” With that, she reentered the tepee.
It was hard for her not to rush out and crack a few skulls with her war club, or put a few arrows into some Chippewa. But if she had, the men of the village would have teased Yellow Hair about needing a woman to fight for him. Also, for the first time in a long time she felt fear. She did not fear for herself. She feared that her husband, in the eyes of the village, might not perform bravely. She knew him to be brave, but she also knew his thoughts on killing.
Dumbfounded, Yellow Hair held the war club and looked about wondering what to do first. Because he did not want to kill, he thought he should use the club to disable rather than kill. It was then that he saw Running Close, knife in hand, running toward a painted Chippewa.
Yellow hair dropped the club and ran; trying to head the boy off, his thought was to get the boy to his tepee where Suni could protect him. “Hell, she is probably sitting there right now; bow in hand, hopping some hapless Chippewa would stick his head through the entrance.” But he was too far away. The Chippewa slapped the knife out of the boy’s hand and hit him on the side of the head with the flat of his tomahawk, knocking him unconscious. Then, picking the boy up by his ankles, he swung him into a small outcropping of rock, smashing his head. Brains and blood splashed onto the Chippewa brave.
Then Yellow Hair watched as the brave dropped the boy, picked up his tomahawk and started to hack away at Running Close’s neck. He was clearly trying to decapitate the boy. Indians mutilated the dead of their enemies so that they would have to wander the spirit world looking like the body they left behind. They also made war on the entire tribe, woman and children included.
By now Yellow Hair had his knife drawn, and was only a few paces away. As he ran he saw red. Not metaphorically speaking, he actually saw the color red. It momentarily obscured his vision. It does happen when one is very, very angry.
Yellow Hair had not been aware that he had drawn his knife, but there it was in his hand. When he reached the Chippewa, the man was so intent on the horrendous act he was performing on the body of Running Close that he did not notice Yellow Hair until it was too late. Without hesitation, Yellow Hair grabbed the man’s braid, exposing his throat, and slit his throat so thoroughly that he almost severed the head from the body. Because the carotid artery in the brave’s neck had been cut, blood was pooling on the ground next to the body. Yellow Hair knelt down on two knees and dipped his index and middle fingers into the pool of blood. Using the blood as war paint, he painted himself for battle. Picking up the tomahawk of the brave he had killed, Yellow Hair let out with a blood curdling scream. Then with the tomahawk in one hand and his knife in the other, he went looking for Chippewa’s to kill.
The first Chippewa he saw was fighting hand-to-hand with a brave of his village. Without regard to protocol, he stuck his knife into the rib cage of the Chippewa and withdrew it without finishing him off. Yellow Hair knew the brave was as good as dead, but he would let the Mdewakanton claim second coup. He was not looking for coup feathers; he was looking to kill Chippewa’s.
Yellow Hair saw that the fighting was the thickest over by Short Bull’s tepee and headed that way. It did not matter if the Chippewa’s he encountered were fighting with a member of his own tribe or not, they all received either a thrust from his knife or a blow from the tomahawk, sometimes both. He did not stay to watch them die, but he would not leave until he was sure they were headed in that general direction. He fought with such ferocity that other members of his tribe could not help but notice even though he did not call coup.
As he was passing a tepee, he heard a woman scream. Entering the tepee, he saw a Chippewa brave advancing towards the woman, war club in hand. Yellow Hair yelled to get the brave’s attention before he could do harm to the woman. Then he saw that the woman was Running Close’s mother. With the realization that his little friend’s mother was also about to become a victim of a Chippewa, the hatred within him deepened. He set upon the Chippewa like a madman, swinging the tomahawk and knife until he backed the brave up against the wall of the tepee. The Chippewa raised his war club in defense, and that is when Yellow Hair plunged the knife into the brave’s stomach, moving it left to right, practically eviscerating the man.
By the time the Mdewakanton drove the Chippewa from their village, Yellow Hair was covered in blood. He looked like a vision from hell. The blood he used for war paint had dried and turned a brownish color, and it was starting to flake off his skin. The fresher blood from his kills was still crimson. And as he stood in the middle of the village still holding his knife and the tomahawk, surrounded by people who has seen, or heard of his exploits, blood dripped from the downward pointing blade of his knife one drop at a time.
Yellow hair did not see the people milling about him. With no more Chippewa to kill his thoughts went to Running Close and how to tell his mother about her youngest son. It was not until Suni rushed up to his side and asked if he was all right, that he dropped his knife and tomahawk and allowed himself the luxury of crumpling to the ground. He was spent.
Suni immediately told two of the nearest braves to lift him and carry him to her tepee. But Yellow Hair said, “No, there is something I must do.” He retrieved his knife and rose to his feet, took Suni by the hand, and said, “I must bring the body of Running Close to his mother”. The people parted for them as they walked away amid the murmuring of the crowd.
Yellow hair brought the body of Running Close to his mother, his father had been killed during a raid against the Chippewa two years previous, and told her that he would attend to the funeral scaffold.
A funeral scaffold was seven feet high, ten feet long and five feet wide. Four stout posts, with forked ends, were first set firmly in the ground, and then in the forks were laid cross and side poles, on which was made a flooring of small poles. The body was then carefully wrapped and laid to rest on the poles. The funeral scaffold was used to keep animals, primarily wolves from the body.
After speaking with Running Close’s mother, whose name was Plenty Eagle Feathers, Yellow Hair went to the river to be cleansed of the blood that covered his body; Chippewa blood. He had sent Suni ahead to their lodge to prepare food. Though he was at a loss to explain it, he was hungry. He thought he should be sick rather than hungry. But the events of that morning were a blur and he had trouble remembering his actions. The only image that was clear in his mind was death of Running Close.
Later that day Big Eagle came to see Yellow Hair. “May I enter your lodge?” “Yes father, please come in,” answered Suni. Once he was seated across from Yellow Hair, he asked, “Are you wounded?” “No,” answered Yellow Hair, “I am fine. But how many Chippewa’s did our braves kill?” “We found twenty four bodies. They may have taken some of the dead with them.” “Of the Mdewakanton, how many dead, how many wounded.” “Eleven dead, including your little friend, and eighteen wounded,” responded Big Eagle. Then he added, “There would have been more dead if not for you Yellow Hair. In the heat of battle one does not look about him to see what others are doing. But many saw you kill without calling coup. From those I spoke with, I judge you, by yourself, have killed eight Chippewa. How many you wounded I do not know.” For a moment Yellow Hair looked thoughtful, and then he said, “I wounded none. I only wanted to kill.”
“It would seem that way,” agreed Big Eagle. “I have spoken with Looking Elk who told me you did not want to kill, but knew you would because it was foretold in your vision. Is that right?” In reply, Yellow Hair said, “Looking Elk and Circling Hawk are wise.” Big Eagle nodded, and then said, “I must go now. I have spoken with Little Crow, there will be a council tonight and he would like you to attend. I will come for you when it is time.”
Suni saw Big Eagle outside. “Father, I am worried for Yellow Hair. He just sits and does not speak. I have to speak to him twice before he looks at me with those blue eyes, and then he says nothing.” “Do not worry daughter. It was his first battle and his first kills. His little friend was killed outside his tepee and he saw it happen. Give him a few days. After all, he is a Wasichu and not use to our ways.” No father, he is a Dakota. But perhaps you are right. I will care for him.” “Just have him ready when the sun leaves the sky. I will come for him then.”
A few minutes after Big Eagle departed there was another call from outside the tepee. “May an old warrior enter the lodge of Yellow Hair?” Roused from his thoughts, Yellow Hair smiled. Come in grandfather you are always welcome.
Upon entering, Short Bull nodded to Suni as a way greeting and said to Yellow Hair, “My son, you are the talk of the village.” Yellow hair stood and pointed to where he had been sitting, “Please grandfather, take my seat. In my lodge you are an honored guest.”
When the two men had settled down, Suni announced that she was going to visit Plenty Eagle Feathers. “I will tell her that you are coming to build the funeral scaffold. Then I will stay with her until you come.” Bidding fair well to Short Bull, she left the lodge.
Wasting no time, Short Bull said, “What did I tell you about that hatred coming from deep inside of you? From what I saw take place outside my tepee this morning, you were full of hate. I heard that Running Close was killed, I am sorry. Is that where the hatred sprung from?”
Yellow Hair looked at the old man who had taken him into his lodge and treated him as a son, and felt ashamed. “I am young. You have the wisdom that comes with age. You, Looking Elk and Circling Hawk tried to tell me the way of men. The way that I am. But I would not listen.”
Short Bull did not like to see his friend in such a disconsolate state, which prompted him to say, “Yes, we have told you of things of which we know. We have given you our knowledge. But we can never give you our wisdom. Wisdom comes from experience. Experience builds upon experience and then one day you find that you have acquired a certain amount of wisdom. You are young and you have had an experience today. That experience will be but one lodge pole in your tepee of wisdom. Do not be hasty, wisdom will come in time.”
What Short Bull said made sense to Yellow Hair. “You are right. If I still know as little as I do now when I am your age, then that will be the time for recrimination.” Feeling better, Yellow Hair said he had a funeral scaffold to build. “Would you like to come along and help?” I am honored that you have ask me,” said Short Bull.
Once they had left the tepee, Yellow Hair went to the spot where Running Close had been killed and searched the ground. He walked back and forth a few times before he found what he was looking for. “What is that,” asked Short Bull. “It belongs to my friend and I am going to return it to him so that he may take it with him on his journey.” Yellow Hair was holding Running Close’s little knife.
On the way, Short Bull stopped at his tepee and got his hatchet. “We will need this.” When they arrived at the tepee of Plenty Eagle Feathers she was wrapping the body of Running Close in a deer skin. When she saw the men, she said, “I was saving this skin for my death,” and then she went on with her sorrowful task.
“One moment mother,” said Yellow Hair. He knelt down and slipped the little knife into the sheath that Suni had made, which was still around the boy’s waist. Then he said to Plenty Eagle Feathers, “Short Bull and I are here to build the scaffold for you.”
Telling Suni he would return presently, Yellow Hair and Short Bull left to get the wood needed to build Running Close’s funeral scaffold. As the two men walked into the woods, Short Bull asked Yellow Hair, “Have you ever built a funeral scaffold before?” No, but I am sure you will show me how.” “We must build it near an elevated spot. It is our people’s way. The women will stand on the higher ground and wail and sing their laminations.”
If Running Close had been older and a warrior, his mother and the other women would have sung his death song, telling of his bravery in battle and the brave deeds that he had performed.
When the two men returned, Plenty Eagle Feathers had finished sewing the skin, thus in effect water proofing the body. She sat on the ground next to the body holding a large lock of hair. Upon seeing what she held in her hand, Yellow hair gave an inquisitive glance toward Suni. In answer to the unasked question, Suni said, “The hair belongs to Running Close. Our women take a small piece of the body to show their grief. Sometimes some hair, sometimes a finger.” Yellow Hair thought nothing of it. He was now a Dakota, and their ways were now his ways.
Brown Wing, Running Close’s brother, was also there. “May I help build my brother’s scaffold?” “Yes,” replied Yellow Hair, “it is only right that you take part.”
When the scaffold was finished and the body of Running Close placed upon it, Suni told Yellow Hair he should go to her father. He will be waiting to take you to Little Crow. I will stay here. Come for me when you are finished.” Thanking Short Bull and Brown Wing for their help, Yellow Hair set out in search of Big Eagle.
The meeting with Little Crow and the council did not take long and Little Crow did most of the talking. “Yellow Hair, please come over and sit down by the fire. I have heard of your bravery today.” Yellow Hair for his part looked uncomfortable. He wished everyone would just drop the matter. He was not proud of what he did. However, to voice his feelings would bring shame onto Big Eagle and Suni, so he kept his own counsel.
Little Crow continued, “We must observe the mourning period of seven sleeps, then we will have the Kill Dance and at that time you will be given your coup feathers. Yellow Hair looked at Big Eagle before saying, “I did not call coup. I thought one needed witnesses to receive the feather.” “That is true. However, some of your coups were witnessed and those who did witness them will speak at the Kill Dance, they will tell of what they saw, as is our custom. .”
Yellow Hair, knowing he was boxed in said nothing.
“Then,” persisted Little Crow, “you will speak and tell of your coups. I might suggest that you make yourself a coup stick before the Kill Dance so you will have someplace to hang your feathers. Of course, you can wear them in your braids, but I think before your days are finished you may have too many to fit in your hair.” That was Little Crow’s way of telling Yellow Hair that he expected him to perform as courageously in all future battles.“I understand you have eight kills, but only four of them were witnessed. For those four you will receive coup feathers. Three moons ago I welcomed you to our village. I now welcome you to our band and our tribe. You are truly Dakota.”
When Little Crow had finished speaking, Big Eagle stood and Yellow Hair followed suit. The council, or at least that part of it that concerned Yellow Hair, was over. Little Crow and the council still had to decide on when and how to punish the Chippewa for that morning’s raid.
On the way to fetch Suni, they came across Short Bull. To Yellow Hair he said, “I followed you, and standing outside the light of the fire, I heard what Little Crow told you.” He then held out his coup stick, minus the feathers. “I want you to have this. It has served me well in many battles, but I have no more use for it. Please accept it.”
Yellow Hair reached out and took the proffered stick. Looking at it and turning it over in his hands, for he could not look at Short Bull because he was filled with too much emotion, be said, “I thank you grandfather. And I promise to never bring shame on to you for giving me this.” There was nothing else to say, so the three men took leave of one another. Big Eagle and Short Bull went to their lodges, and Yellow Hair to retrieve Suni.
A week later the entire village assembled for the Kill Dance. After the initial singing and dancing, Little Crow stood to announce that the council had decided to forgo a retaliatory raid on the Chippewa for the time being. So we will prepare and leave to hunt the buaffalo in seven sleeps. This news brought some of the younger braves to their feet with shouts of protest. They wanted to attacked the Chippewa camp, and the sooner the better.
Little Crow asked for quite and said, “There will be a time to avenge our dead and wounded. But it grows colder by the day. We are short of meat, so we must hunt the buffalo. The old and the young and the sick cannot feed themselves. Would you leave your mothers and sisters to starve?”
When the young braves heard what Little Crow had said, they grew quiet and sat back down.
Now was the time to award coup feathers. Because of Yellow Hair’s unique status within the Mdewakanton, Little Crow had decided to award his feathers last. When the witnesses had recounted what they saw and the recipients had told of their deeds of valor, it was Yellow Hair’s turn.
He did not want to stand before the entire village and be lauded for killing. He had come to the conclusion that, yes, killing is necessary at times. But to celebrate it afterwards is just not right. Though he would kill again, he never spoke of it afterward, and he never called coup.
As he stood in front of the fire and before the assembled people of the village, his first witness spoke, “I was in my tepee and a Chippewa brave was about to attack me with his war club. But just then Yellow Hair ran into the tepee and shouted to get the brave’s attention so he would not harm me. The brave turned on Yellow Hair, but Yellow Hair had no fear. He charge the brave and killed him as I stood there and watched.” So said Plenty Eagle Feathers, Running Close’s mother.
The next witness stood and told his story. “I was fighting hand-to-hand with a Chippewa when Yellow Hair came up and thrust a knife into the back of the brave. About this much of the knife came through the brave’s chest.” At that point in his narrative, the witness held up his right hand with his thumb and forefinger separated by an inch. He continued, “The knife must have pierced the man’s heart because he stopped fighting and fell dead to the ground.”
The third witness: “I had just come out of my tepee to see what all the screaming and yelling was about when I saw Yellow Hair, painted in red war paint, run up to a brave also painted for war and swing a tomahawk that he held in his left hand. It landed on the man’s neck and went in pretty deep. Then the man fell to the ground, but he was still moving. Yellow Hair then knelt down on one knee and with the tomahawk, hacked at the man until he stopped moving. And then, without calling coup, he ran off to where the fighting was the thickest.”
By now Yellow Hair was staring at the ground. He was unable to look at his fellow Mdewakanton’s.
When the third witness had finished, the fourth took his turn at praising Yellow Hair. “First I would like to thank Yellow Hair for saving my life. I was fighting a Chippewa brave and called first coup. Then I made the mistake of looking around to see if anyone had witnessed my coup. That is when the brave regained his senses and struck me with his war club. Luckily it was only a glancing blow, but it did knock me down. As the brave was coming in to finish me off, Yellow Hair appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the man’s braid. Pulling his head back, Yellow Hair drove the knife into the man’s throat. When the man fell to the ground, Yellow Hair withdrew the knife and picked up a tomahawk lying on the ground. He then started to walk away, so I yelled my thanks to him. That is when he turned and looked at me. He did not say anything. He seemed to look right through me. But he did nod, and then he ran to the north end of the village.
When the fourth witness had finished speaking there was murmuring around the fires. Still Yellow Hair stared at the ground.
Little Crow stood and held up his hands for silence. “Yellow Hair, I have two feathers for first coup and four feathers for second coup to give you. But before I do will you tell us of your coups that day?”
Yellow Hair slowly raised his head, looked at Little Crow and then at the people sitting around the fires who were waiting for his words and said, “I have been told of the time four winters ago when my wife, Fighting Woman, was awarded the only coup feathers ever given to a woman. And I have also been told what she said that night. I am sorry, but I must say the same thing. I do not remember that day, or at least that morning. I left my lodge and saw my friend killed. The next thing I knew I was standing in a circle of people covered in blood. Then Fighting Woman ran to me and asked if I was all right. I then fell to the ground. That is all I know.”
When Yellow Hair had finished speaking no one made a sound, no one spoke a word. But then out in the darkness, out of the fire light, there was heard a small chuckle. Then another and another. They were soon joined with laughter, and within moments, the entire assembly was roaring with laughter. They were not laughing at Yellow Hair. Everyone thought it funny that both husband and wife, who had fought so bravely, could not remember. Even Little Crow saw the humor in it and was laughing so hard he was wiping tears from his eyes.
When the laughter had subsided, Little Crow stood and walked over to Yellow Hair. “Here are your feathers. You may wear them in your braids or hang them from your coup stick. But the council and I have a feather for you that must be worn. It is an Eagle feather and when worn in your hair denotes bravery of the highest order. Not many men wear this feather; it is an honor, but you have earned it Yellow Hair.
After the awarding of the feathers, the Kill Dance continued until the early morning hours. The Mdewakanton Dakota celebrated their victory over the Chippewa.
Suni and Yellow Hair left early. They had been recently married and had other things to attend to.
A week later the tepees were struck, supplies and belongings and small children were placed on pony drags for the trek southwest to hunt the buffalo.
For the eastern Dakota who were also known as the Santee Sioux, which consisted of the Mdewakanton, the Wahpekute, the Sisseton, and the Wahpeton, it was to be the last buffalo hunt. The Wasichus were coming.