The Sea of Grass: A Family Tale from the American Heartland
350
The Sea of Grass: A Family Tale from the American Heartland
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781682752272 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Fulcrum Publishing |
| Publication date: | 07/01/2018 |
| Sold by: | INDEPENDENT PUB GROUP - EPUB - EBKS |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 350 |
| File size: | 10 MB |
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CHAPTER 1
Riders Are Approaching
On the trail in the Center-of-the-World, 1864
THE RIDERS ADVANCED across the meadow. Ascending the ridge, they were outlined against the blue sky. From this vista, endless rolling hills spread before them. Thanks to crisp weather, the snow resisted the sun's warmth.
Nearly a hundred riders rode through the swells and knolls. Many led packhorses laden with dried meat and camping gear, so the group looked much larger than it really was. But the caravan made little noise — just muted conversation and an occasional whinny or cough from the horses.
Otherwise, the prairie was silent. No life stirred.
Chiitú (Calico-Cloth-Woman) deftly guided her spotted horse through the patches of snow. She glowed with anticipation in the bright afternoon sun.
Today is special, she thought. We will camp at the place I was born — sixty-eight winters ago.
A few wisps from her thick, loosely braided hair danced in the wind. The bony old lady enjoyed the breeze. The chill did not penetrate her buffalo robe. With the hair side in, the snug garment protected her against the lingering days of winter. Paintings on her spectacular robe depicted the daring deeds of her sons — seven proven warriors known to all as the "Seven Brothers."
Calico-Cloth-Woman scanned the horizon.
Her dark eyes peered over prominent cheekbones. Shell earrings lent an exotic appearance to the oval-faced woman. Sometimes this dark-eyed lady resembled a cougar, other times the big cheekbones gave her prairie-dog features. Either way, cragged lines etched a hard look in her proud face. It covered hidden scars carried inside an old woman hardened by war. Open life under the sun agreed with Calico-Cloth-Woman. The lanky matriarch was rawboned, but regal. She rode in a chiefly manner. This grandmother was a queen in buckskins for all to see, and the prairie was her realm.
The spotted mare carried the elder and her rawhide baggage. Two grandsons rode close behind. They led packhorses that pulled neatly packed travois, loaded with meat and camping gear. The boys were happy. This was the first time Grandma brought the youngsters along for the ride.
Except for the warrior who guided the party, there were no middle-aged riders in the group — only old folks and a few grandchildren. By late afternoon everyone was very tired and saddle sore. After all, the early risers hit the trail before dawn, while most relatives slept.
Elders need a head start during buffalo hunts. Early departure helps them keep up with the tribe and not fall behind. The little vanguard rode north all day; they wanted to arrive early at today's destination to set up camp. By now, the main body of the tribe was not far behind. If the elders did not keep a brisk pace, they would soon be overtaken by more than a thousand people, with twice as many horses and dogs.
Except for Calico-Cloth-Woman's eldest son, Aseecakahuuru — Crazy Horse, the old folks and kids had scant protection. The prairie was unsafe these days, due to tribes that made war on Pawnees. The Sioux, Cheyenne, and Arapaho made Pawnee buffalo hunting downright dangerous.
To safeguard the elders, a few warriors scouted the countryside. Some rode ahead to make sure no enemies lurked near today's camping spot. They should return soon, for the blue hills of the Republican River loomed ahead.
* * *
THE PAWNEE NATION had a successful winter hunt. In these hard years, safety required large numbers, so all four bands hunted together. The Cheyenne were angry, for Colorado militia had destroyed Black Kettle's village at Sand Creek just a few weeks ago. The Pawnee hunters avoided that war-torn area on the Cheyenne Reservation.
After several successful surrounds in the high plains, the four bands separated.
On the homeward journey to the Pawnee Reservation on the Loup River, some three hundred miles away, each band traveled, hunted, and camped independently. Today the Kitkehahki would reach the Republican under Sky Chief 's venerable leadership.
For the past few days, the Kitkehahki had journeyed through a beautiful grassland with magnificent buttes, heavily laden with buffalo meat. This is the Center-of-the-World in the Solomon River Valley at the center of the continent. On the lone prairie, at the fork of the river, is a powerful holy place called Kicuuwiicaku — Spring-on-the-Edge-of-a-Bank. Here water bubbles up from a wonderful spring inhabited by the Rahúrahki, revered animal spirits who watch over Kitkehahki country and intercede for the Pawnee. Few humans come to the Center-of-the-World, but the animal spirits know it well. Here the people rested for a few days.
Then Sky Chief headed north toward Water-Fouled-by-Buffalo, just one day's ride from Spring-on-the-Edge-of-a-Bank. That valley hosts the other place of power in the Center-of-the-World, the great Kitkehahki animal lodge at Pahuru — Hill-That-Points-the-Way. This holy place, which is also inhabited by Rahúrahki, is a tree-covered bluff on the banks of Water-Fouled-by-Buffalo.
Sky Chief set his course for Pahuru deep in the heart of traditional Kitkehahki country. The birthplace of his people is where Calico-Cloth-Woman was born. The people would camp at the old village place, which affords weary travelers with abundant timber, thick streamside vegetation, and sweet running water — and above all, safe harbor in a dangerous world.
Each year, Calico-Cloth-Woman enjoyed the summer and winter hunts. After all, she spent half of her sixty-eight years on the open prairie, going on more than one hundred buffalo hunts. In the old days, everyone went. Now, things were different. Sadly, some kids stayed behind, because they were in the government boarding school on the reservation; some warriors stayed home to protect the reservation from white trespassers and Sioux raiders; and others could not go due to old age, sickness, lack of horses, or were simply too lazy to brave the cold. Many of the kaákusu', the Stayat-Homes, camped on Grand Island this winter, near Ft. Kearney.
But not Calico-Cloth-Woman. She was determined to go on every hunt, until she grew too frail to ride, pitch camp, scrape hides, or make meat. Camp life was fun and the hunt always exciting. Since childhood, she loved nomadic life in the wide open spaces. Most of her eight babies and numerous grandchildren were born on the prairie. That is where Calico-Cloth-Woman felt most at home.
"This is Tiraáwaahat's country," she always said. "Here we are still free, despite reservation life at home."
She rode beside her old friend, Grandma Ctaapitawi — Hanging-Goods-Woman. Her friend was a skinny, ebony-brown elder, with coal black eyes and little claw-like hands. Since childhood, the two were sirawari — sisters attached together for life. Back then, almost everyone called Hanging-Goods-Woman by her nickname, Skatiit — Blackey. Today, The two widows chatted about old times.
"Sister," cackled Hanging-Goods-Woman, "tonight the Kitkehahki camp in our old village on the banks of the Republican where we were born."
Calico-Cloth-Woman nodded. Her thoughts were filled with childhood memories about life in the old village. It was once ruled by three old-time Pawnee chiefs: White Wolf, American Chief, and Rich Man.
"I hope we camp there a few days," she said. "That's where we met the very first Americans when I was just ten winters old."
She resolved to tell that story in camp tonight.
Soon, two scouts came over the rise. Standing high in their stirrups, New Rider and He-Makes-His-Enemies-Ashamed signaled: "No enemies."
Crazy Horse nodded. He nudged his horse forward, followed by the elders, grandkids, and packhorses. Crazy Horse was Calico-Cloth-Woman's firstborn son. And Teahkekawahurekeku, or "He-Makes-His-Enemies-Ashamed," was her youngest. On the reservation, she lived with the two men and their families in the lodge belonging to Crazy Horse's wives. On the hunt, the household divided into two camps. This winter, she camped with He-Makes-His-Enemies-Ashamed.
At last, the saddle-worn riders crested the knoll overlooking the valley.
It was more beautiful than ever.
The group descended the hillside, trotting through terraced slopes that once contained Kitkehahki gardens and pastures. No earth lodges remained. Only circular indentations marked spots where they had once stood. A flock of turkeys was on hand to welcome the people before the faint-hearted fowls fled into the trees.
In her mind's eye, Calico-Cloth-Woman pictured the crowded village of her youth. "When I was a girl, each garden was fenced by a thick row of sunflowers," she mused, mostly to herself. "The avenue leading into town was here; horses pastured there; my parents lived in the earth lodge near the trees; and Hanging-Goods-Woman lived over there." The old lady found the spot where her earth lodge once stood. The circular enclosure was still faintly visible.
Aha! There it is, she thought. We lived right here beside the river, with a nearby corral and scaffold for drying corn, beans, pumpkins, and squash.
Sadly, the structures were long gone. Calico-Cloth-Woman dismounted.
"Tiítaku — let's camp here."
The grown-ups unsaddled and began to set up camp, while the boys watered the horses.
Hanging-Goods-Woman hallooed from her camp, "Sister, we are home!"
She is right, smiled Calico-Cloth-Woman. Every family must have roots somewhere. Ours spring from Kitkehahki soil at the Center-of-the-World.
Before long, the Kitkehahki appeared on the bluffs and rode into camp. The snow began to fall. By nightfall, it was blowing hard. But the tipi was warm. A crackling fire kept the storm at bay, and everyone was full of roasted meat and corn soup. It was time to relax after a hard day's ride.
That night Calico-Cloth-Woman sat on her buffalo robe, surrounded by four adoring grandsons: dark-eyed Ariíkis — Young Buffalo Calf, was ten winters; chunky Ásaatiiraraa — New Horse was eight winters; Taka — Sonny, was only six; and little Ukawaa — Trampling Horse, was four. She loved them all, but the eldest, Young Buffalo Calf, was the sparkle in her eye, for he reminded her of her late husband. It seemed to her that the barefooted boy with an oval head was quickly becoming a man.
Four other adults inhabited the tipi.
He-Makes-His-Enemies-Ashamed lay comfortably beside his wife, Kaasariwa — or Things-Lying-Nicely-Inside. They were the four boys' parents. Nearby, young Aasawiita (Male Horse) and his winsome bride, Tsakura-Wits-Pari, relaxed near the fire. They were newlyweds without a home of their own. Male Horse was Things-Lying-Nicely-Inside's brother. The young man helped He-Makes-His-Enemies-Ashamed with the hunting; and the two brothers-in-law were great friends.
Calico-Cloth-Woman was the family matriarch. Her big family included everyone present tonight — plus six other sons, a daughter and their families. The entire family camped nearby — well over sixty people in all, and growing.
The large winter encampment spread across the snow-covered valley. The Kitkehahki were back on home soil at the Center of the World. It was a grand homecoming. Laughter and happy chatter filled the valley. Everyone felt good to sleep where the old village once stood. Many planned to ascend Pahuru — the venerated Hill-That-Points-the-Way, to pray and leave offerings. So Sky Chief decided to stay a few days.
Tonight, the old lady planned to tell stories about her girlhood days in the valley.
"Grandchildren, páhiitu' — be still," she said. "Let me tell you about this village. I am an old woman now. My eyesight and hearing are poor, but I remember our life here. As I sat beside the river today, I could still see the old people and hear the laughter of the children. They are no longer here; only the water still flows. My childhood now seems like an old woman's dream. Tears come into my eyes because it seems strange that I should be here today to talk about those times, when the rest of my family back then are no longer left alive."
The tipi grew quiet.
Only the fire crackled, as Male Horse put more timbers in the flame. The night was young. All eyes turned to the old woman.
Her story would take several nights to tell. But a long winter's tale lets children know who they are, and what is important. Besides that, she resolved, my story is best told on Kitkehahki soil ...
* * *
I WAS BORN in the Age of Horses. Don't you know horses made everything better? The Pawnee call them Áruusa' — Big Dog. Missionaries say the first horses were brought to the prairie by Spaniards. They are the hairy-nosed strangers we call Custaárus, or Moustache-People. But missionaries don't know how Pawnees got horses of their own. Old folks know how we became a Horse Nation. They say, "Áruusa' came from Tiraáwaahat — the Great Spirit, as a gift to the people." According to them, the Age of Horses began with an act of kindness.
In early times, dogs accompanied us on the Buffalo Road. They carried our gear on the travois. This ancient relationship stemmed from days when great creatures walked the earth. But traveling was slow and hard.
In that time, a poor orphan boy lived in a village ruled by a man called "Kind Chief." This good-hearted leader tried hard to live up to his name. He was generous and took care of everyone, from the youngest to the oldest — even the poor. Kind Chief only saw the best in people. He believed everyone had inherent worth, regardless of station. Because the orphan had no relatives, he lived a destitute life. He walked about the village in rags, with holes in his worn moccasins and made do with scraps and leftovers. Life was hard for the orphan in the Age of Dogs.
Many villagers made fun of the boy, for they had no chiefly ways. But not Kind Chief. He felt sorry for the boy and always fed him when he came to his lodge. The chief always sent the poor boy away with dried meat, nutritious pemmican, or sunflower balls for energy. Sometimes Kind Chief gave him moccasins, a robe, or a pair of leggings.
The people chided the man for his charity, but Kind Chief told them, "Tiraáwaahat made this boy and watches over him. Someday, when he is grown, he may rule us, help the people, or do great deeds."
The people just laughed at Kind Chief and in derision called the boy "Chief-Son." When the tribe went on the summer hunt, little Chief-Son tagged along. One night on the Buffalo Road, the boy fell asleep and dreamed. He saw strange animals prancing in the sky. The beautiful animals descended from Heaven. As thunder sounded, a voice called out to him: "Áruusa'! They are yours. Take care of them and they will take care of you."
When Chief-Son awoke, he remembered the strange animals.
After the people broke camp, Chief-Son stayed behind. He made two mud replicas of the figures in his dream. He placed them in his robe and followed the people. After everyone returned to their permanent village, Chief-Son placed his mud ponies beside Water-Fouled-by-Buffalo. There he watered the clay figures, then took them to graze. He did this ritual for many months.
At last, Chief-Son had another dream. In his slumbers, Tiraáwaahat dropped the horses from the sky for him. Then the Great Spirit sang songs. When Chief-Son awoke, he went on a hill to sing the wonderful songs. As he sang, a voice answered: "Tiraáwaahat gave these songs to you," it said. "Through this ceremony, you shall be a chief. Tonight your mud ponies will be alive. Look after them."
The poor boy borrowed Kind Chief 's buffalo-hair rope and ran to the mud ponies. He found two live horses standing in the moonlight, with stars glistening in their eyes. The wondrous animals were the first ever seen. Many people were afraid of them.
"Do not be frightened," said Chief-Son. "Tiraáwaahat gave us these animals. They are called Áruusa'. From now on, they will carry the people and their packs!"
That's how we got the first horses. They came from the sky, and fell into the hands of a poor orphan boy, but his remarkable gift transformed the Pawnee. That boon confirmed Kind Chief 's wisdom: Treat everyone well. Each person — no matter how humble — is worthy of respect, for anyone can do great things, be a hero, or bring great benefit to the tribe.
In time, the youth became Kind Chief 's son-in-law. On his first war party, he returned with more horses. The next time he went, many warriors clamored to join, and they returned victorious, with a large herd. The Age of Horses began.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The Sea of Grass"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Walter R. Echo-Hawk.
Excerpted by permission of Fulcrum Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Preface, i,
Acknowledgments, iii,
Prologue, v,
Indigenous Map — Pawnee Country, viii,
PART I — THE AGE OF CALICO-CLOTH-WOMAN,
Chapter 1 — Riders Are Approaching, 2,
Chapter 2 — The Donkey Soldiers, 16,
Chapter 3 — Big Knife Soldiers Come Calling, 33,
Chapter 4 — The Buffalo Road, 52,
Chapter 5 — Refugees, 75,
Chapter 6 — The Turbulent Years, 80,
Chapter 7 — Smallpox, 102,
Chapter 8 — Stars-Fell-to-Earth, 112,
Chapter 9 — The Hounds of War, 118,
Chapter 10 — Blue Coat's Village, 124,
Chapter 11 — The Creek of Souls, 130,
Chapter 12 — The Eye of the Storm, 135,
Chapter 13 — Big Soldier's Village, 142,
Chapter 14 — The Starvation Years, 150,
PART II — THE LIFE AND TIMES OF ECHO HAWK,
Chapter 15 — My Early Days, 169,
Chapter 16 — Male Horse Goes to War, 181,
Chapter 17 — My Rite of Passage, 190,
Chapter 18 — Aha! I Found You!, 201,
Chapter 19 — I Go to the Circus, 216,
Chapter 20 — The Covenant with Animals, 227,
Chapter 21 — Exodus, 243,
Chapter 22 — I Go to War, 259,
Chapter 23 — The Powder River, 271,
Chapter 24 — Ghost Dance Days, 283,
Chapter 25 — Hell's Fringe, 299,
Chapter 26 — A New Century Dawns, 309,
Chapter 27 — World War I, 319,
Chapter 28 — Big Crow Passes from the Earth, 332,
PART III — THE GREATEST GENERATION,
Chapter 29 — Elmer and George, 340,
Chapter 30 — Band of Brothers, 354,
PART IV — THE TENTH GENERATION,
Chapter 31 — A Whirlwind Comes Calling, 374,
Chapter 32 — The Eleventh Generation, 388,
Afterword by Roger C. Echo-Hawk, 398,
APPENDIX 1 — The Author's Relatives, 402,
APPENDIX 2 — South Band Sound Key, 409,
BIBLIOGRAPHY, 410,
Discussion Questions, 420,