Authors: Alan Evans
Tara spoke softly to Shane as they listened, “The
horses ridden by the two chiefs during this battle became some of the
bloodlines that are now part of our wild herd.”
Tara and Shane quietly slipped away from the kids
and walked over to the next exhibit. This one sparked a childhood memory for
Shane. “I remember learning about this in junior high school. A Shoshone woman
named Sacagawea had been the main guide for the Lewis and Clark Expedition, on
their trip to reach the Pacific in the early 1800s.”
“Yes, every kid who has ever taken an American
history class has heard of her. I think it will interest you to know how this
event in history is so connected to our mustangs.”
Shane turned to face her, cocking his head a little
to one side in curiosity as he listened.
“Lewis and Clark had struck up a relationship with
the tribe, and ended up obtaining the horses used in their expedition from the
Shoshone. When the explorers returned from their travels, they gave back all
the surviving horses. Those also became part of the herd’s bloodlines.
Sacagawea’s name means bird woman. Her importance
in American history was recently honored last year when the
U.S. Treasury put her image on the front of the silver dollar in the year two
thousand.”
“Wow, I had no idea your herd was linked to anything
famous like this.”
Tara held her hand up, “I’m not finished yet,
there’s a lot more American history wrapped up in our mustangs.” She led him
over to another exhibit. This one told of how the Arapaho tribe, long-time
enemies of the Shoshone, were forced onto the Wind River Reservation after
their conquest of General Custer at the battle of the Little Big Horn.
Tara gave him a few minutes to observe the display
of the famous battle scene before talking. “When the Arapahos arrived in
Wyoming, they were still riding the war horses they had ridden to
defeat Custer. Over time, the Shoshone took some of these horses during
skirmishes between the tribes. The best of those captured horses were added to
the herd and have also become a part of their lineage. Our tribes, of course,
have learned in more recent years to get along.”
Shane raised his eyebrows in amazement, “Is there
more?”
Tara laughed slightly, “Those were only some of the
more recent bloodlines added to the herd. The first Shoshone war and hunting
ponies were all from Spanish descent and originally obtained by my tribe from
the Comanche. These horses quickly became a very important part of the tribe’s
early survival and identity. Today we can actually trace the lines of our
mustangs to specific events and battles important to the tribe’s history,
dating back to at least the early seventeen seventies. All of the selected
animals for our special herd were considered gifts to our ancestors’ spirits
and are allowed to run free as an offering.”
Tara gestured for Shane to follow her over to a
small room that was closed off to the public. She pulled out a key and unlocked
the door. “Come in here, and I’ll show you something the general public never
gets to see.” Inside, on a large shelf, were stacks of neatly stored file
boxes. “This is where we keep the records of our spirit herd. The oldest
breeding records were kept in great detail verbally by our elders. They were
handed down from generation to generation until the mid-eighteen hundreds, when
everything was written on paper and translated into English. My brothers, from
a very young age, have always been involved in guarding our herd and recognized
your gray mare when they saw her. She disappeared along with another
two-year-old filly in the spring of nineteen ninety-six. We weren’t sure if
they’d been stolen or if something else happened to them.”
Shane remarked, “I guess that’s why they were so adamant
about taking her from me that day at the Jensen’s farm.”
Tara nodded, “Once the young horses in the herd have
survived their first six months, we brand them in the early fall, then they are
added to these records.” Tara dug through some of the files and pulled out the
l994 branding records. “See, here are your mare’s papers. She was the last foal
born to her mother who died of old age recently. There are only a few grays in
our herd, and most of them can be traced back to a specific line that came from
the horse Sacagawea herself rode during the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Your
mare is out of this special line.”
“I’ll be damned!” Shane whistled as he studied the
papers.
Tara continued, “We have only been branding our
horses for the last seventy-five years. But, believe me, the older records are
just as accurate. The broken arrow brand represents all the battles that were
fought to keep our valley, and it is also a symbol of honor for all the braves
who have lost their lives during these battles.”
Shane handed Sloppy’s papers back to her. “I can’t
help but be impressed with all of this. Now I’m even more excited about seeing
the herd for the first time this weekend.”
They left the little room and walked back out to the
main hall of the museum where there was a large map of the reservation on the
wall. He could hardly believe the size of the place with it’s variety of
terrains, including meadows, foothills, forests, and mountains.
Tara’s pride and enthusiasm were evident with her
next bit of information, “The Shoshone Indians are the only tribe in history
who were able to keep their ancestral home. It’s so unique and special that we
have been able to retain this land where all our history was actually lived.
This is the only reason my tribe has been able to maintain our unique herd here
for so many generations.”
Shane followed her over to a wall that was full of
old pictures with captions. They were all portraits of different chiefs and
other tribal leaders dating back to the 1800s. Tara pointed out a very old
picture of a middle-aged white woman dressed in Indian clothing. The title read
1868�—�Barbara Stephen
Lightfeather, married to a Shoshone warrior and mother of three Shoshone
children
. “This was my great-great-great grandmother on my mother’s side.
She had lived among the tribe most of her adult life and acted as an
interpreter between Chief Washakie and the United States during the negotiation
that made the Wind River Basin officially the Shoshone’s reservation.”
“How did she end up living with the Shoshone?”
Tara explained, “She had been a schoolteacher in the
white world and was kidnapped by the Crows during a raid on a settlement in
Utah. The Crows tortured her, beat her, and used her as a slave for almost two
years. When she was in her mid-twenties she was saved along with some Shoshone
prisoners during a rescue mission by my tribe. Our people considered it a great
victory when our
warriors attacked and defeated the enemy, and brought her to the village along
with the Shoshone prisoners they brought home to their families.”
“She must have been a strong woman to have survived
all that.” Tara agreed with a nod, “Barbara Stephen was in pretty bad shape.
The women of the tribe nursed her back to health, and she later decided to stay
and make a life for herself. She was the first white teacher to join our tribe.
She worked hard all her life to teach our children how to read, write, and
speak English.”
Shane commented, “Now I know where your blue eyes
came from, and why your skin is a bit lighter than most of your tribe.”
“I am proud of my white and Native heritages,” she
said, “but most of all, I am Shoshone.”
The afternoon had flown by. The information Shane
learned about these people and their mustangs answered many questions. Now he
understood why the tribe was so protective of the mustangs. Although he
respected this, he couldn’t help but recognize how these unique horses might
attract an immense public interest. “There must be an award-winning documentary
somewhere in all of this,” he muttered under his breath.
On the way home, he carefully kept their friendly
chatter away from anything personal. This was his standard way of keeping new
acquaintances from asking about his past. His intent wasn’t to keep his family
a secret. It’s just he knew from experience that sympathy was unavoidable once
people learned about the tragedy.
Tara politely acted as though she didn’t pick up on
his reluctance to talk about his life, and he appreciated her regard for his
obvious reserve.
Chapter 10
It was quiet at the ranch as they pulled up to Tara’s house.
Shane turned toward her with a lighthearted
grin before they went their separate ways, “Thanks for your time. You were such
a great tour guide, I feel like I should tip you.”
Tara laughed, “That’s okay, you can keep your money.
I’m already independently wealthy anyway.” As they arrived at their own
separate porches they glanced at each other across the three small yards
between them and waved good-bye.
Because he’d kept their conversation casual, he
still knew very little about her, except that she seemed to spend a lot of her
time at her job, whatever that was.
Maybe,
in the future I’ll make an effort to show some interest in her personal life
, he
thought. Unfortunately, he realized this was a two-way street, so for now Shane
felt more comfortable keeping a friendly distance.
Shane rose on Friday morning as he normally did around six a.m. He was
usually awake before the alarm went off, but this morning, after a good night’s
sleep, it was that annoying buzzer that woke him. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled
as he hit the off button. His heart was pounding and his breathing shallow as
he sat on the side of his bed, gradually regaining consciousness. Slowly, he
stood and staggered into the shower.
As he started a pot of coffee, he heard a knock on
the door. “Who the hell would be here at six fifteen in the morning?”
Irritated, he cracked the door open, but quickly chilled when he saw who was
there.
“Good morning, mister. I saw your light. So I
figured you were up.” It was Tommy, the kid he’d helped yesterday with the roan
gelding. The boy had a plate loaded with eggs and bacon. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Is that for me?”
“Yes, sir!”
Shane looked a bit confused.
“You offered to help me with the horse again today,
but I got no money to pay you. So, I made breakfast and thought you might have
some work I can do to trade for your time.”
Now the food made sense, and he couldn’t help but
admire the kid’s attitude.
“We’ll figure something out that’s fair. Why don’t
you come in while I eat, then we can get started with your colt.”
“I’ll just wait on the porch.”
“Suit yourself, son. I’ll be out in a minute.”
When they walked into the barn, the gelding was
acting very bothered in his stall. He was kicking the wall with a back foot
while anxiously pawing a hole in the ground with a front one. As Shane
attempted to open the stall, the horse immediately charged him, with his ears
pinned back in an aggressive posture. Shane quickly backed away and shut the
gate. He looked at Tommy, “Does he act like this every morning?”
“Yes, sir. I don’t know how to break him of it.”
Shane shook his head with a grin, grabbed an empty
feed sack, walked back over to the stall and went inside. The boy watched as
the belligerent gelding, once again, charged aggressively. Shane harshly
rattled the feed sack at him, sending the horse back to the far corner of his
stall. Shane then walked out of the stall, waited a minute, and repeated this
several times. Soon, he no longer needed to do anything but walk up to the
stall, and the gelding would
respectfully move back.
“Now that he’s not trying to attack me anymore, I
need to get him to come to me with a nice attitude so I can put his halter on.”
Tommy watched intensely as Shane walked into the
stall with the big roan now standing with his head in the back corner. Staying
near the door, Shane began to rattle the feed sack softly. Finally, the gelding
turned around and faced him. As soon as the horse responded in this way, he
released the pressure by keeping the bag still and quiet. Timing was imperative
to make this work. After several repeats of this process, the horse made the
decision to walk over in a friendly manner, so Shane rewarded him with a gentle
rub between his eyes.
With the gelding now acting calm, Shane put his
halter on and led him out of the stall.
Tommy looked amazed at how easily Shane fixed this
problem. “Mister, can you teach me how to do that?”
Shane laughed, and said, “All I did was make the
right thing easy and the wrong thing difficult for him. In the process, I made
my idea of how he should act into his own idea. I think this horse has a good
mind, he’s just a little pissed off at the way you’ve been trying to break
him.” Tommy seemed puzzled. Shane winked, “Don’t worry, son, you’ll catch on
soon. Now, grab my saddle and tack up ole Tory, while I take the colt outside
to the corral and begin with some groundwork.”