There was nothing
pretty about Dancing Shadow, except her name. When her features were
young and tender, she had been kicked square in the midst of them,
and they were rather mixed together as a result. Her face was so
deformed that no Blackfoot could persuade himself to take her as a
squaw, nor as a gift.
Angry Child, her
father, consumed his heart with disappointment and grew tired of the
sight of his daughter's face. The very bones of his offending foot
ached when he saw her one eye pulled down and the other pushed aside.
She looked two ways at once. She always seemed alert for the arrival
of any new hurts or indignities.
Her mother, No-tail
Lizard, watched the slant of the morning sun in the door of their
tepee and knew that Angry Child was a fool. He was an excellent
hunter, a brave man, but he had no control over his temper. A bitter
fool, he was a danger to Shadow. No-tail Lizard encouraged Dancing
Shadow to play the ice snake game and to run races with the boys. She
taught her to use the skinning and fleshing knives, but also to throw
them.
Dancing Shadow
threw knives and stones with a lightning fast underarm toss. She
brought to the family pot not only the roots, berries, and wild
onions that women gathered, but turtles, fish, and small animals.
She learned to snare, catch and prepare the foods harvested by the
Sioux, Shoshone and Fox captives living with her people. She grew six
feet tall when the men in her band topped no higher than five foot
eight.
Big girl, fast,
strong and ugly, Dancing Shadow turned eighteen in her parent's
tepee. Other girls were wed at fourteen and already twice mothers,
but no brave bravely desired a woman who could drop him with her
fists or open him from crotch to brisket without rising to her feet.
She sat by Angry Child's fire, while his heart burned inside him.
In 1794, in the
year of big spring snows, Sarah Franklin led her mules to the
Blackfoot camp on the Rosebud River. Two dressed elk were draped upon
the four pack frames, their hides rolled hair side out behind her on
the appaloosa. She called out in the first morning light, frightening
the horse guard boys with her pure, high voiced Cheyenne.
“Go to the
lodges, wake up your chiefs, bring out the Winjk-ti. I have come for
a Blackfoot wife.”
Two boys ran to the
tepees shouting, then smacking the tents with sticks as they sped
across the village. Men shoved aside the door covers and sprang into
the soft snow with bows and war lances ready.
Laughing, Sarah
shouted to them, “No Lakota come to steal your horses! I ride alone
with breakfast for the Blackfoot people. Hurry to me brave ones.”
She sat high upon
her horse, a new flintlock musket across her knees. Her dark hair,
pulled back and tied, fell over her shoulder upon the creme lace that
erupted from her broadcloth waistcoat. A coat of dark smoked elk hide
gave elegant contrast to her near yellow buckskin breeches. She had
thrust four black powder pistols into a porcupine quill belt.
“Bring women,”
she called, “to take the elk quarters from these animals. The horse
cannot eat them. My mules will happily trade this meat for the grass
kicked clean by your children.”
“Your mules can
trade meat for grass? Did you trade your eyes with the sky people to
make them blue?” a young man asked.
“Of course, wise
man! I have been to the steaming land and traded there with the
underground spirits. I have yellow paint powder from them. They sent
up stinky smokes to honor the Sky People for me. I now have blue eyes
from their great blue horses.”
The warriors
listened to her silly talk and saw that the steaming breath from her
mouth and the noses of her mules came unhurried and slow paced into
the frosty air. They knew her animals were rested, that she was not
frightened by so many braves. She had not come far or hurriedly.
They called for the
women to unload the meat. They invited her to the council lodge.
When Sarah Franklin
came to visit the Blackfoot band that Runs To War lead as chief, it
was an event of great importance. She had been in the lodges of the
Cree, the Mandans, the Sioux and the Cheyenne. She came alone across
the prairie and she had visited only one tepee in each camp. She
talked with the leaders whether they offered her smoke or not. She
talked of the buffalo hunt and of the changes the white men's musket
would bring to the tribes.
She had said,
“White men will come to you soon. They come from a leader of the
white tribe. They will give you knives of iron, ribbon, and buttons
made from hammered copper metal. They will give you round silver
disks with the face of their leader upon them. You will see these
things and you and your women will long to hold them and to sew them
upon your best clothing.
“I bring you a
warning. Their knives are not as sharp as your flint knives. They
will not cut as cleanly. But these iron knives are strong, they will
not break when you throw them. These whites can kill from a distance.
They have muskets and pistols that throw death twice as far as the
best bow throws an arrow. Men with such weapons learn to kill from
far away. They do not look into the eyes of their foes before they
count coup. They do not see other men as brave warriors, as human
beings to be respected even in war.
“Each white man
speaks only for himself. His word is not binding even on his
children. These men will speak to the chiefs about friendship and
trade. They will make many promises, but the tribes of the white men
are not loyal. I know for I was born among these white men.
“In my land of
New Jersey, white men promised all women, we will see you as human
beings, equal to men. They promised to treat the women as the
Blackfoot and Mandans treat women, as equal partners within the
tribe. The white women believed the promises. But the white men broke
their promise. They said the women are not true people. Women cannot
own their own clothing, their own lodge, or their own children. The
white men said women are fit to be servants only. They broke their
promise and treat their women worse than the Sioux or Cheyenne, worse
even than the Gros Vente.
“I bring you a
warning. White men will not see you as human beings, as honorable
people. They will break their promises to you. Here is an iron knife.
Look on it and remember what I said to you. I will go now to warn the
other nations.”
Now, Sarah Franklin
had come to the Blackfoot band wintering on the Rosebud River and she
said a new thing. “I have spoken with the Cheyenne and with the
Sioux, they tell me you have a tall woman in your camp. She is strong
and runs faster than your men. I have come to see her.”
Runs To War said to
her, “Dancing Shadow sits at Angry Child's fire, but he is afraid
of her. He does not sleep well. Ha.”
“I have asked for
nothing among all the tribes,” said Sarah. “From the Ohio, the
Mississippi and the Missouri River's peoples I have asked nothing. I
have brought my warning and then moved on to other peoples. Some
peoples have given me welcome or blessing and some have taught me
their languages so I can warn them more carefully. I have asked
nothing, but I ask you. Runs To War will you go with me to the lodge
of Angry Child?”
Angry Child sat at
the north of his lodge fire, leaning back against a finely painted
willow branch rest. Runs To War sat to his right on the west side of
the fire. Sarah Franklin sat on the east side and Dancing Shadow sat
beside her on the south. Angry Child offered smoke to the sky and to
the ground and then to the directions of the world. He did not offer
his pipe to Runs to War nor to Sarah Franklin. He did not know why
they had come to him.
Sarah began, “In
the camps of the Cheyenne, adopted people stolen from the Blackfoot
tribes have told me of the tall girl who sits beside me. They say she
is strong, fast, skilled in all lodge matters. She hunts and gathers
with cunning and wisdom, but she has not been sought as a bride.
Angry Child, why is this so?”
“Dancing Shadow,
will you kneel in the firelight?” Angry Child asked.
“Her face was
broken. It healed crooked and bent. See it! The men do not desire
her,” he said.
“Those men do not
see clearly. This is a fine woman. Your lodge is filled with fine
things. Surely she has been taught by a talented mother... I thought
the Blackfoot nation did not harm its daughters or beat their women.
Only slaves are beaten. How was this child injured?” asked Sarah.
Angry Child did not
answer so Runs to War said, “Dancing Shadow was very small when her
cradle board tipped down before the tepee. Angry Child, holding a
robe in his arms, backed out of his lodge, his foot hit the softness
of her wrappings. He kicked back thinking he kicked a village dog.
But he had kicked his baby daughter so he ran to find the shaman who
came to help her.”
Dancing Shadow turn
one eye to her father and said, “I have no anger for you, father. I
am here as I am. I would not be angry if a buffalo stepped on me
while I slept. No, but I would take care not to sleep so soundly.”
“Daughter,” he
asked her, “Do you stay awake at the fire, leaning your head into
your hands, so I will not hurt you again?”
Dancing Shadow
raised her brows, one to the northeast and the other to the south.
“Oh father, I do not sit awake. My head is misshapen so I cannot
lay it down for long. It pains me. I sit up sleeping, tipping my head
forward. These out-sized eyes, pushed from my face are never closed
completely.”
Angry Child pursed
his lips. “You did not learn to throw knives and stones because you
feared me?”
“No father! I
learned because mother taught me. She looks at me each day. She could
see that I am ugly. She knew the men would not desire me. I would not
be courted by them or invited into their lodges to live with them. I
will need to defend myself alone when the Crow and the Cree attack
the summer camp and when I grow old.”
No-tail Lizard
spoke from behind Angry Child. “Husband, you do not look at her
face. You look away. You are ashamed of the hurt you caused. Instead,
you see the little boys pulling at their eye corners and the young
men turning away. Your anger grows as you walk through our camp and
even the puppies learn to run from you. Your anger eats you heart.
You do not see her.” She paused to take a deep breath. “One day
your anger will burn the blood inside you. You will die from such
fierce anger. You will die young Angry Child. I will miss you and
your daughter will become the hunter for this lodge.”
“I am sorry I
upset you.” Sarah crossed her hands above her breasts. “I did not
understand the problem in this lodge. The mother is worried and the
father is saddened because their daughter will never be a man's wife,
tending to children in his well-kept lodge. I am sorry for you. I
have stirred up your hearts like a stick stirs embers.”
She looked to each
one with her hands still crossed and then opened her hands to Dancing
Shadow. “You are a smart woman, surely you have considered becoming
a warrior. Among the Sioux, the Contraries do this. With the Cheyenne
Winjk-ti and the Comanche Ber-dash this is a known thing. You could
take your own wife from among the women and bring her to your own
lodge.”
Dancing Shadow
nodded her head. “I have thought of this more than there are snows
in winter. I could make my own lodge, steal my own horses from the
Crow and Cheyenne, hunting for my own buffalo and bring home marrow
and brains to soften tanning robes. I could do this. But I could not
be a warrior. My heart does not want honors. I feel no need to count
coup to prove my bravery. A Blackfoot brave must seek war. He must
show his courage in many battles. He must dance and shout his deeds
when battles are ended. I cannot be a warrior.”
Runs To War cleared
his throat and gathered all the eyes in the lodge to him. “Among
the Blackfoot a man may lay with a man, a woman may hold a woman. We
see that some men desire men and some women desire women. It is the
way of the Sky People to let this happen among us.
“We are not like
the Mandan or the Osage, who live in earth lodges and tend maize and
pumpkins. We follow the buffalo.
“In my
grandfather's father's time the Blackfoot people stayed in one place,
waiting for the buffalo to come in the spring and again in the fall.
We listened to our medicine men who knew how to call the buffalo to
us. Then horses came to us. We learned from them a new way.
“We follow the
buffalo now, in all directions we follow the herds. We left behind
our earthen lodges and pumpkins. Our lodges and all our things come
from the buffalo. We follow them through the lands of other people,
other tribes. We are not welcomed.
“We have become
warriors, fighting many enemies. Our enemies fear us because our
warriors are strong in battle and each one hears the Sky People
telling him how to be cunning and dangerous. Dancing Shadow does not
hear the Sky People telling her to strike our enemies. She cannot be
a warrior.”
Angry Child said,
“Among us women may hold women. Men may hold men. Most of our women
have done this. They say they find comfort with each other when their
men are at war. They hold each other when their husbands are skunk
shits to them. This is known.”
Sarah said, “Among
the White People many listen to the medicine men. These tell them
that only white men are human beings. They say all other tribes will
become slaves of the whites. But there are some who do not listen to
medicine men. They may listen to the Sky People or they may listen to
their own hearts. They are like the Blackfoot, each one moved to find
his own way.
“I am a Quaker,
one of those who listen to our hearts but not to medicine men. My
heart said do not be a slave owned by a man. Go to the west, so I
came. With horses and mules, I came.
“My mother and my
grandfather taught me to look at the world and to always learn from
it. They said knowing is more valuable than things, than possessions.
My grandfather said, knowing is valuable but doing is far more
valuable. I listened to the Sky People also saying these things in my
heart.
“I left my
mother's lodge. I left our garden of corn and squash. I ride through
the lands of many tribes, but I do not hunt the buffalo. I have no
lodge, no travois for things. I am not the enemy for I take nothing
from the tribes. When an Assiniboine tried to make me his slave
woman, I shot him and rode away. I do not know if he lived. I counted
no coup on him. I take no honor from this. I am no proud warrior.”
Sarah said to Angry
Child and No-tail Lizard, “I only hold women. I kiss them. I love
them. I don't even think about loving a man.”
She turned to
Dancing Shadow. “I want you. I have seen you. I have heard you say,
I cannot be a warrior. I see you. I will not force you ever. I am no
Sioux to tie you to a lodge pole. I have no lodge. I go where I go. I
do as the Sky People tell me. I have no tribe, not white or plains
peoples. I want you.
If you want me, come
with me. If you do not want me, come anyway. Be your own woman. Let
me court you.”
Dancing Shadow
raised and dropped one shoulder. “Yes, I have considered laying
with women. They look to more than a pretty face. Still, I have never
questioned being with my people. I never thought of leaving them. I
must walk through our village before I contemplate saying a goodbye
to them. Here, I am a curse to them. I must force by way into tents
unwelcomed. Some will not let me squat in the bushes beside them. But
some have run with me, laughed with me, and let me gather wood and
roots with them.”
She asked her
father, “Could I leave you, father? Would you understand that no
anger or despair drives me?”
Angry Child
replied. “I understand. I have tormented myself thinking you feared
me when I have always sorrowed for the loss I caused you. Each day my
danger walked beside me, sitting over me as I slept. A great danger
caused by my withered heart and not by you. But you have speared that
boil upon my heart. The green danger seeps away, there is less pain.
I rejoice that you have a choice to make.”
“Mother, if I
leave, will you be happy? Will you grow old in this lodge?”
No-tail Lizard
looked straight into one eye of her daughter's face. “I will. My
husband may stop feeding sticks to his anger. He may live longer and
I may be a comfort to him in his old days. You have a choice. You are
not bound to this lodge, tending an already grieving woman. Choose
your own way. I am content.”
“Runs To War, you
have come as a friend into my father's lodge. Will I become an enemy
to our people if I go?”
“You may go. We
are a free people listening to the Sky People in our hearts. You are
free. Do as they tell you.”
Sarah Franklin
said, “I will go south again to the land of steaming water, we may
speak to the Sky People there. To the Under-Earth People, who sent
the buffalo to the Plains Peoples, we will direct our prayers.”
Dancing Shadow rose
to her feet and held out her hand to Sarah. “Walk through the camp
with me.”
Sarah Franklin, as
they walked, looked shyly at the form of Dancing Shadow more than a
head taller than herself. “I must apologize to you, Dancing One. I
came into your village shouting for a wife. I went to the lodge of a
village leader and did not stand before your father's tepee with
humility. I have not stood far off gazing upon you and then turning
my eyes away when you catch me at it. I have not courted you in the
manner of your people. I have not courted you in the manner of my own
people. I have been far too bold.
“I first heard of
your strength and speed in the Pawnee towns. I asked about you among
the Sioux and they told me you did not jump high and boast when you
bested the young men. I heard from the Cheyenne that you were so tall
they could mark you from all others as they spied on your traveling
caravan. All of these peoples, enemies of your people, spoke of how
no brave in your tribe would come to court you. I heard and I felt a
large sadness in my heart. I determined to ask for you as one comes
asking for water after days in the desert. I would honor you with my
desire, but I may have offended you. Please forgive my lack of
manners.”
Dancing Shadow
slowed her walk to a stop as Sarah spoke. “I trust your words. I
had given up hope that I would find a brave standing in my path when
I returned from bathing in the river. I did not think one would
whisper in my ear or brush his lips on mine. I did not think I would
open my robe to him and cover us both with it so we could exchange
secrets. Your manner is pleasant to me.”
“I will ask you
an unmannerly question. Among us there is a woman who left her lover.
I have seen her going into a man's or another woman's tent. This
woman is not loyal to her lovers. Will you use me and then leave?”
Sarah sighed and
said, “There is a story in the White Medicine Man's book. It tells
of a woman who lived in her husband's lodge. Her name was Jael. An
angry chief and his chosen men came to her. They had been defeated in
battle and they growled over their defeat. This chief was dangerous
man known for both his violent temper and for his scorn for women.
Jael opened her tepee flap to them and gave the chief warmed milk to
soothe him. When he lay down to sleep, she took a tent peg and drove
it straight through his temple and into the ground. The chief's
chosen men ran away from her.
“A rattlesnake
gives warning. But if I become a danger to you, if I take my loyalty
from you and scorn you, give me no warning. There are always sharp
sticks, strong weapons and you will know where I am sleeping.”
Dancing Shadow
said, “It is good.”
They walked on,
watching the striplings playing in the snow. Boys and girls together
and apart in groups played the snow-snake game or pelted each other
with snowballs. Sarah said, “There will not be children.”
“A child may
decide to come with us.” said Dancing Shadow.
Sarah said, “We
can not let a child come to us from your band. The village may honor
our living among them and even adopting a child. But if we go and a
child goes with us, they will think I have worked an evil magic.”
“I ask you to
accept new ways, that I do not yet know. Such bravery is more than
any warrior's. Strength before new peoples, new places, and new
visions is rare. I will not force you.”
Dancing Shadow
stopped again. “I will fall to my knees when the Under-Earth People
shake the ground. I cannot stand unburnt when the Sky People throw
down their fire. I will keep a stern face if new people torture us,
but I cannot say I will not bleed.
“Still I will go
with you, if you will have me.”
Sarah Franklin
said, “It is good.”
She waited
patiently outside the door as Dancing Shadow entered her mother's
lodge and opened a painted box made from a thick bull buffalo hide.
From it she took a fine robe, decorated with porcupine quills in the
image of a Prairie Chicken, puffed up and drumming on his lek. She
ducked out of the lodge and draped the robe over Sarah's shoulders
and her own.
