Sacajawea (54 page)

Captain Clark was formally seated on a white robe in the Council Lodge improvised with willow boughs, his face still smudged with vermilion paint, an ermine collar clasped closely about his neck. Captain Lewis sat beside the chief, who was tall and sat with his back straight and proud, his black eyes looking intently into the faces of the strange white men, reading what he could of their intentions here among his people.

Besides putting an ermine collar around Captain Clark’s neck, the chief had tied six small white sea-shells in his hair. These ornaments from the Pacific Coast were highly valued among the Shoshonis. The men had removed their moccasins.

Sacajawea was to translate from Shoshoni to Minnetaree; Charbonneau was to translate from Minnetaree into French if he could not find the English equivalent; then Labiche, nearly as dark as any Shoshoni, would translate into English. It was a very slow way to manage translation, but it was the only way there was so that everyone could understand what was being said.

Sacajawea left her moccasins by the entrance and sat quietly between Charbonneau and Labiche.

The chief wore a headband made from eagle feathers and dyed vermilion and yellow; the small white breath feathers came over his cheeks. His shirt was doeskin, as were his leggings, and embroidered with red-and-black porcupine quills. His face was painted with radiating yellow lines, proclaiming the beginning of a new day. A large yellow dot was drawn in the middle of his forehead and encircled in red, indicating friendship and peace. In his hand he held his pipe. He moved into the circle and lighted the pipe by placing a coal from the fire in the green stone bowl. The pipe was longer than the chief was tall, its stem decorated with tufts of horsehair. He held it toward the sun, which stood over a range of hills in the west, and then he gave it to the four directions, finally turning and placing it in the hands of Captain Clark. Clark closed his eyes and blew the smoke from his lips. He held out the pipe to Captain Lewis.

As Lewis drew on it, he was aware of a murmur among the men seated around him. It was as if a rustle had swept through the watching Shoshonis like a slight breeze through a grove on a hot, still afternoon. The murmur died, and the oppressive silence came again. Friendship, he thought; this means friendship. This is a miraculous thing. We come in here and smoke with them, in their country, and now we’re going to talk some more, and if they wanted, they could wipe us off the earth this day. We are a great people, a fearless people; we go in where angels fear to tread. They cannot want to kill us; or if they do want to, they’re not going to do it without their rituals. They’re going to smoke and talk Lord knows how long, and then maybe they will let us have it. No, the chief is a wise man. We’re worth more to them alive than dead.

The pipe was gone, and the chief was talking. His voice came from deep within him, from down under the tooth necklace and the yellow slashes on his ribs. He patted and smoothed the white doeskin of his open shirt and made a sign to the earth and to the distance and to the natives around him; and he began to talk, directing his remarks to Sacajawea, waiting as she began to translate his expressions of honor and approval of the white men in the Shoshoni camp.

The depth of the chiefs voice, the way he held the pipe, the way his black eyes probed into her soul, brought more memories to Sacajawea. The reality before her was mixed with the memories, as in dreams. Suddenly, instead of the gaunt, hollow-eyed chief, she heard her father speaking. She heard him speaking to the People. Her eyes narrowed to see better. A small hoop wound with rawhide suspended one red feather over his left ear. A wave of pulsating excitement flashed over her body.

“Cameahwait! Never Walks! My own brother!” she cried, jumping up to embrace him. She threw the robe their mother had sewn over this tall, silent chief. She wept profusely. “We are of the same family, my brother!”

The chief was visibly moved. “Boinaiv, my baby sister! No—I thought it could not be you. We mourned you as dead. But you are here. The Great Spirit has looked upon us today with gladness.”

Sacajawea tried to control her weeping. Between sobs she asked, “Our sister and brother?”

The chief, greatly agitated, shifted and blew his nose between his fingers. Finally, more composed, he said, “Gone into the land of the spirits with those who were our father and mother.”

“Yiiiee,
gone!” Again she burst into sobs.

“My sister, hush. There are strangers present. It is impolite to display emotion with such abandon. Control yourself. There are two that live.”

“Two? But you said—”

“Ai, our brother, Spotted Bear, and our sister’s papoose, who is called Shoogan.”

Chief Cameahwait gently placed a hand on his sister’s arm. “Boinaiv, we shall talk of these things after the council.”

Sacajawea tried to control her emotion, but the situation was overpowering. She had no strength to stop. She felt helpless, powerless, exposed, and naked in her deep emotion before all the People, yet she did not see anyone but her own flesh brother. She was seized by dizziness and a shivering weakness. A thunderous wind seemed to surge within her; the earth itself rocked and swayed under its power. She clung to Charbonneau for support until the dizziness passed. She heard Chief Red Hair saying, “It’s all right, Janey. You need not feel guilty about your tears. Your homecoming has moved many to the edge of tears. I saw Captain Lewis rub his eyes, and Labiche has blown his nose more often than any of us.”

Charbonneau surprised everyone by standing up and extending his right hand toward the chief. “How do, my brother-in-law,” he said, with a swagger of his shoulders. When he sat again, he adjusted the kerchief about his neck and eyed the ermine collar worn by Captain Clark. He thought he would get his ermine collar out and wear it around camp. The chief would then know that he was somebody, all right.

Captain Lewis rose. “Tell Chief Cameahwait that we come in peace, and that we go across the mountains to the salt sea to open the way for white traders. We must go swiftly ahead of the snow, and we have brought tobacco and bags of corn as presents. Others will follow, to trade kettles, awls, hatchets, axes, guns and powder, for the Shoshonis’ beaver, otter, and ermine.”

Chief Cameahwait looked pleased. Guns and powder, this was what his people needed to keep them better supplied with game. He rose, dignified and in full control of himself. “I understand, and I am pleased. But why would our enemies, the Sioux and Blackfeet, not capture the white traders and their goods before reaching here? I think they would.”

Captain Lewis rose and told the chief about the Great White Father in Washington who wanted all the Indian nations to live in peace. “You are now children of the Great White Father, and it is he who sent us here. And it will be he who sends traders to you.”’

Chief Cameahwait was astonished. “Can this Great White Father send my sister to lead so many men to our nation? Can he keep peace among nations who have warred for years?”

Captain Clark rose. “He sent us to tell the Indian nations to lay down their weapons and be peaceful and trade with each other so that each may live better. We brought Janey—Sacajawea—with us so that she could speak to you, so that you might understand what we had to say. She is a wise young woman.”

Sacajawea tried desperately to control her tears.

“Stop sniffling, you squaw,” ordered Charbonneau. “You delay the powwow.”

Sacajawea bit her bottom lip and clenched her hands into fists. She was bewildered. The sudden joyous shock of it all still shook her, and the responsibility of the translating now included having to pass on a compliment about herself.

“My brother, these white chiefs—Chief Red Hair and Chief Captain Lewis—are strong leaders. They keep their word. They—” Once more, sobs shook her.

Charbonneau was impatient and fuming. “I ordered you to stop that bawling.”

Captain Clark touched Charbonneau on the shoulder and shook his head, saying, “Don’t. She can’t help it. Can’t you see she is greatly moved to find some of her family still living? Family ties are strong with these Shoshonis.” He motioned to Captain Lewis.

“We think it proper that this council continue tomorrow after one of our interpreters has had time to talk with her brother and meet more with her own people. We’ll begin tomorrow when our men arrive with the canoes and supplies.”

The Council Lodge was immediately cleared; however, Captain Clark had to drag Charbonneau out by his shirt. The métis was protesting, “He is my brother-in-law. My family. I want to stay and talk with him.”

Alone with her brother, Sacajawea suddenly found herself tongue-tied. She watched him remove his headband of feathers. He motioned for her to sit on the white robe, watching her. She seemed more beautiful than the memory of his mother, yet she was so similar. All her movements were rhythmical. Her eyes were red and swollen, but by tomorrow they would shine again. He noticed the fine stitching on her tunic, her wide belt of blue beads. He saw that her hair was neat and she was clean, and that her beauty came from health; she was not half-starved as were many of the women in the tribe. She was also a stranger to him, a woman with a white man, a swaggering, wind-blowing kind of man. She could speak several tongues, and she was treated as an equal by the two white chiefs.

Sacajawea felt a great pride rise within her. This brother had followed in the footsteps of their father. He had earned the office of chief, the respect of the Agaidükas. He was someone to be pleased with.

“Spotted Bear is at our camp in the mountains,” he said. “We will go there soon, and you will see him. You will notice he still has long white marks on his face from the fight with the great yellow-and-black-spotted bear.”

“And the papoose?”

“Oh, Shoogan. He is yet a child and cared for by Spotted Bear and his woman.”

“What is she called—the woman of our brother, Spotted Bear?”

“She is called Cries Alone.”

“And your woman — what is she called?”

“Dancer.”

“Our sister?”

“She left to be with the spirits two winters back. She had mountain fever, cough, and pain in her chest during the Season of Snow Melting. Her man, the son of Red Buck, was struck with an arrow from our enemy, the Blackfeet, during a battle for horses. From that time, all the color began to fade out of her cheeks. She would scarcely eat or speak.”

“Shoogan — how many summers?” she asked, her hands dabbing at her eyes.

He held up three fingers. “He is going to be as fast a runner as his grandfather if he ever learns to pick up his feet more carefully.” He grinned.

“I must see him. I will care for him as my own. Pomp would like a brother.”

“Pomp?”

“Ai,
Willow Bud holds him. He is seven moons and kicks as if he would be walking if we let him stay on the ground instead of carrying him in a blanket.” She demonstrated by throwing the small handmade robe over her back and pulling two corners around her neck. “You must see him.”

“You care for Shoogan. With you he will have a full belly.”

Then he turned to show the side of his head where the long hair was partially cut in mourning. “The Blackfeet took many of our horses and killed eight of our best warriors and made off with three women and one small boy. The loss was large.”

She wondered how the Great White Father so far away could possibly hold any peace between lifelong enemies.

Cameahwait wondered at her silence. “Were you treated well?”

“The white chiefs treat me well. They are straight-tongued. Chief Red Hair is gentle and kind. The other is quiet and thinks to himself, but he is also fair in all dealings.”

“Ai,
I saw all that at the council.” He looked directly at his sister.

Sacajawea felt the blood rising to her cheeks. “My man means well,” she said, then looked at her feet and went on. “You will help these white men over the mountains. Help them, and they will help you and the People. They have promised to send traders with food and guns.”

“The People then can take their rightful place among the other nations and defend their lodges and women and horses. We will have strong warriors.”

“The day will come,” she said. She looked up to see Chief Red Hair coming into the willow lodge. “My brother,” she said in the soft tongue of the Shoshonis, “I would give my life for this man. He has saved mine as the river came rising up a cliff to wash us away. And he chose me to come here where I found my people. His power is strong. He is like a rock. He made my belt of blue beads.” She showed it off proudly.

“There is a special feeling between you?” Chief Cameahwait looked down at his sister.

“He hunts the buffalo and keeps us well fed,” she said. “He would share his hunt with you and all the Agaidükas.”

“Hou!
My people’s hunger will be satisfied, and we can sit comfortably as we talk with the white chiefs,” said Cameahwait.

Captain Clark put his hand on Sacajawea’s shoulder, with the other making signs. “Ask your brother to join us at the riverbank. The canoes are just beaching, and we will make presents.”

Sacajawea interpreted, “We will go with Chief Red Hair to the river and see more white men and their goods, and the big dog—as big as a colt—and the black man, who will be your friend.”

Chief Cameahwait blinked unbelievingly at his sister.

Lewis relates the following complication which arose from Sacajawea’s unexpected home coming: