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Show TV Listings, April 4, 1985 Page 8 possibly a young squaw who mourned his death. wondered if they would seek revenge, and wouldnt have blamed them if they did. The Ute women and children stayed close to camp the first few weeks after the horse raid, and the horse herd was guarded closely in the event the boys friends and family tried to get revenge, or attempted to steal more horses. Brown Wolf and two of his companions went in pursuit of the raiders and the six horses they had stolen. They didnt get away with any of my animals, so still had four. By the time the tribe was ready to leave on the summer hunt, the attempted horse raid was pretty much forgotten, except for one thing. Brown Wolf and his two companions had still not returned. had given a lot of thought to suggestion that seek out the Ute good through fast; ing and meditation to get my own medicine dream, my own revelation from the Great Spirit. The Mormons encouraged the same kind of thing the seeking of a personal relationship with God through fasting and prayer. Maybe the Mormon God and the Great Spirit were the same. Maybe if I sought him out, he would show me through some kind of sign the direction my life should take. The more I thought about it, the more the idea grew on me. As looked at the snow capped peaks of Timpan-ogorising majestically above the valfloor. As I contemplated the graceley ful, flowing movement of my horses as they frolicked across the grassy plain. As I looked into Red Leaf's face, in the light of the evening cook fire, and saw the kindness there, the lack of guile, the love she had for me knew there had to be a God in heaven or a Great Spirit. And couldnt see any reason why he wouldnt speak to me, or at least give me some kind of sign as to what I ought to do with my life, so I could prove to him that I was sincere and open to what he wanted to tell me. Yes, I would seek him out. The tribe had been gone about a week when one night I told Red Leaf about my plans to climb to the higher elevations of Timpanogos to seek a medicine dream from said I would be gone at least three days. She didn't object, although knew she wouldn't like being left alone. She had plenty to do, though. I had killed an elk several days earlier. The hide was stretched out in front of the wickiup, ready to have the hair scraped away. Most of the meat was still waiting to be jerked and hung on willow racks to dry. Early the next morning, before daylight, quietly rolled out from under the buffalo robe I shared with Red Leaf and slipped into my buckskins. Red Leaf was still sleeping. I didn't want to wake her. After making sure the medicine bag was in place about my neck, I stepped out into the cool dawn and looked up at the grey silhouette of the towering Timpanogos. There was a chill in my spine as I contemplated the upcoming vigil. wondered if Moses felt as I did the first time he climbed Mt. Sinai. The horses were grazing quietly in the nearby meadow as I started walking towards the mountain. I didn't bother the horses, having decided to walk. The grass was wet with the morning dew; soon my moccasins were soaked. I As I walked slowly towards the tepee, I realized I could never really be a Ute Indian. Their culture could never be my culture, not completely. There were parts of their lifestyle that loved the carefree wandering, the buffalo hunts, the freedom, the love and respect for the land and animals. But they had other ways that I I the torturing of prisoners, even women and children; the selling of children into slavery; the general hated lack of concern for human suffering. wanted no part qf that. I fingered the medicine bag that Neuwafe had given me earlier in the evening. It was important to me. There seemed to be so much meaning in the beaver tooth, the bear claw, the hair, and even the gold nugget. The I The prisoner was dragged from his horse and carried to a tree near the fire. He was lashed to the tree, in a standing position, forcing him to put his weight, at least some of it, on the broken ankle, now red and swollen. I was sure the injury was painful, but he didnt show it on his face. His expression was intense, his jaw firm. He looked young, probably 16 or 17 years old. Maybe this was his first raid. wondered if he was from the tribe that had been camped on the Green River, the tribe Ike and I had stolen the horses from. Perhaps he and his companions had followed the trail of the 34 horses from the Green River to the Ute camp, and they had I . come to get their horses back. I hadnt gone looking for the fallen rider. I wished the boy had escaped into the night. Someone said medicine bag had been mine for a few brief hours, yet it seemed part of me, a sacred possession. I thought about my new bride, Red Leaf, her gentle ways, the love we had for each other. Some of the things in my life with the Utes I wanted to continue forever. How could I be part Ute, and part something else? I was confused and unhappy as I entered the tepee to greet Red Leaf. Chapter 40 I wished the boy was Commanche. Already some of the older women and children were spitting on him and jabbing him with pointed sticks. This was nothing compared to the tortures in store for him, and he knew it. The fate of captured horse thieves was common among all the tribes a slow, painful death, usually involving skinning and burning. One time I had watched on with amazement as Neuwafe and his companions skinned a captured Blackfoot warrior. They were nearly half finished before the poor man died, and not once during the entire ordeal did he cry out. My admiration for the Black-foo- t warrior grew with leaps and bounds as I watched him endure the horrible ordeal. At the same time I felt growing contempt, not so much for Neuwafe and his friends, but for the way of life where such behavior was expected. I hoped the boy would be brave like the Blackfoot. If he could be as brave, the Utes would find little satisfaction in his death. If he cried out in his misery, the Utes would only find more pleasure in his torture. If his cries became annoying to his captors, they would cut out his tongue to keep him silent as the torturing continued. Whatever he did, the torture would continue until he was dead. I wanted no part of it. I headed for the tepee, where Red Leaf was waiting for me. It was our wedding night, a time to be happy. But how could there be happiness when nearby an Indian boy was being tortured to death? When the Ute tribe headed east for the summer buffalo hunt, Red Leaf and I stayed behind. We still didnt have our own tepee, at least not one made from skins, but had fashioned a wickiup bark and brush piled upon a frame of tepee poles. The dwelling was comfortable and warm, but not mobile like the hide tepees. There were several reasons for not going with the tribe on the buffalo hunt. The first was a desire to spend more time alone with my new bride, to get to know each other better, to spend more time discussing our future together. Most of the time we talked in Ute, but sometimes in English. I wanted her to learn my language, too. The second reason for not following the Utes to buffalo country was my desire to spend some time alone, to sort out in my mind who I was and what I wanted to be. It was difficult to express these feelings to Red Leaf. She had never known anything but the nomadic life among the Utes. She I couldn't comprehend anything beyond that, and couldnt understand I would want to consider anything different, especially when I told her about the Missouri mobs. She showed a lot of interest when I told her about white mens homes, river boats, and cook stoves. Things. But when I tried to describe books, politics, and religion, she just shook her head, unable to comprehend, even slightly, what I was talking about. why Sometimes I thought about the young Commanche, the one who had died so bravely the night Red Leaf and I were married. I wondered if he had parents, brothers and sisters, and I I Neu-wafe'- was not in a hurry to get to the mountain, still not sure exactly how I was going to conduct the vigil, hurried anyway in an effort to keep warm. The land was fresh and alive with the new growth of early summer. The birds were building nests, the does had fawns, the wildflowers were just beginning to bloom at the higher elevations, the grass was green and lush. About midday climbed upon a rock outcropping to rest. The mountain was steep now, and not having had anything to eat, needed frequent rests. Looking down upon the rich valley, I saw the dark green groves of pine Although I s I p I s I I I I I I I I I I trees, the lush meadows, the long snake-likstrings of cottonwood trees indicating where the streams worked their way across the valley to the beautiful blue lake, the e snow-cappe- d peaks of the distant mountains off in the western desert. Closer to the mountain could see the open meadow where my horses were grazing, the brush wickiup, the brown spot I knew to be the elk hide I stretched out over the . grass. couldnt see Red Leaf. She was proba- I the wickiup. had only been gone a few hours, but as I looked down from the mountain on. our little brush home, I felt a sudden longing to return, to be with Red Leaf, to help with the elk, just to be with Red Leaf every minute during the best time of the year. I began to feel a little silly about my intended vigil. In white society I would be scorned or laughed at for undertaking such a task. Who was to think I could just climp up on a mountain and communicate with the great one who created it all? Why would he bother with me? was nothing but a dot in the vast creations of the world. Trying to shove the doubts from my mind, I climbed down from the rock and continued the upward journey, now tedious and difficult. My head ached from the lack of nourishment, my stomach growled incessantly for food, and the late morning sun was too hot. Long ago the chills had stopped tingling in my spine, and realized that the vigil was not going to be easy. It was several hours later, in mid afternoon, when spotted the smoke. had turned to face the valley before sitting down to rest when noticed a grey pillar against the blueness of the lake. The smoke was coming from my wickiup, which was alive with yellow and white flames. bly in I I I I I I I Immediately I was on my toes, searching for any sign of movement to indicate that Red Leaf was outside and safe. The distance was too far. . . it was hard to distinguish detail. Then, suddenly, I spotted definite move- ment, but not next to the wickiup. Out in the meadow, the horses were running, like ants creeping over a green mat. I counted them. Six, not four. Apparently my four horses were being chases by two riders, probably the ones who had set fire to the wickiup. I lunged forward, racing down the mountain, tears streaming down my cheeks at the hopelessness of the situation. Red Leaf needed me now. but it would be several hours before I could reach the camp, probably too late. Who were those mounted riders? Probably the Commanches. What would they do to Red Leaf? Maybe she was already dead. |