Thunder Rolling in the Mountains (2 page)

"But still you will tell him?"

My father did not answer. His silence made me afraid that at last, at last he would weaken and give in to the soldiers.

A single horse ran swiftly toward us. On its back was Too-hul-hul-sote, an honored priest of the Dreamers and leader of the rovers from the Seven Devils country. He was in Wallowa to speak with my father about the soldiers.

"They come," he called. "The one-armed general leads them."

"I know," my father said. "I hear their horses."

The sun was dying as we stood beside the lake. In the last of its light a band of soldiers rode out of the woods. They came fast through our village. Out in front rode General Howard, the man who had one arm and wore silver stars on his jacket. He pulled up in front of us and a soldier came out and stood beside my father to help the two men talk together.

"As I rode through your village," the general said, "I looked but saw not one sign that you plan to heed my order and move your people from Wallowa."

My father answered him in a gentle voice. "We have decided not to move to Lapwai, this other place. It is small and far away. It has little grass to feed our many horses."

"You have a thousand horses, Chief Joseph," General Howard said. "You have thousands of horses. You have more horses than you can ever use or sell."

My father said, "I have been to Lapwai to look. There are Indians living in Lapwai already. I saw three lodges and many tipis."

"I will move them," the one-armed general said. "Everyone will be moved and there will be much room in Lapwai."

"That is not good, to drive people from their homes," my father said.

A furious gust of wind bore down upon us. The general's beard blew straight out. The two men stood and stared at each other.

In a tangle of trees behind them, three men, two of them in red jackets, were watching. They had ridden up silently. I knew all of them. The Red Coats were warriors who had sworn to fight General Howard and his soldiers to the death.

Their leader was Wah-lit-its. He hated the whites because his father was murdered by a white man, who
had never been punished for the crime. Red Moccasin Tops, his cousin, hated the whites for the same reason. They lived for the day they would take revenge. They wore their red jackets as a warning sign to the whites of the revenge that would come.

To one side among the trees stood a tall young man, his hair piled on top of his head and a leather band painted with flying birds tied tightly around his forehead. Swan Necklace was cousin to both Red Coats but was there, I knew, only to guard their horses.

He didn't hate the soldiers or the white settlers, or anyone else, not even his own father, who called him an idler and sometimes knocked him down with a sharp cuff on the ear. He would get to his feet again, brush the dirt from his jacket, and smile.

The last time his father, old Two Moons, gave him a thrashing I was watching. It was three suns ago, early in the morning. Swan Necklace had been away all night in the mountains. He went to the mountains to gather baskets of earth, all colors of earth, yellows and reds and blues.

He mixed the colors with something that looked like water but was really a secret of his own, and painted pictures of the sun and moon, of birds and deer and buffalo. He painted the pictures on dresses and jackets, on mats and skins if the owners wanted them. The paint never rubbed off or faded.

As soon as Swan Necklace slid off his horse the morning he came back from the mountains, his father grabbed the baskets of earth and scattered them on the ground.

"Listen, idler of all the hills and valleys and meadows in this realm of the living," he said. "Listen to me."

His son listened and smiled a little, but more to himself than to Two Moons.

"Death stalks the Land of the Wandering Waters," his father said. "We are surrounded by soldiers who are here to drive us from our homes or to kill us. Our young warriors—you know them all, many are your relatives—have armed themselves and stand ready to face the soldiers, to die! And here you come riding in from the mountains with dirt to paint pictures."

He gave Swan Necklace a shove that sent him sprawling. He stood over him and said, "I gave Red Moccasin Tops and Wah-lit-its the blankets from which they made their red jackets. Now I give them my son to take care of the horses. I have spoken to them. They will accept you as a horse holder. Go now to talk about horses."

Swan Necklace got to his feet, but he hung back and did not leave us.

His father said, "You have no choice. Go or I'll banish you from the clan. You will be a wanderer for the rest of your life, no longer a Ne-mee-poo."

Swan Necklace glanced at me. We had grown up together. I had loved him for a long time, for as many moons as there are stars. I put a hand over my heart and gave him the secret sign of love.

Without a word, he went off to talk to the Red Coats.

T
HE WIND
swirled high in the treetops. The one-armed general let go of his beard. My father unwrapped the light folds of his blanket.

The general said, "Tell me, chief of the Wallowa Nez Perce, one whose intelligence is praised by friends and enemies alike, tell me, do you believe that I have spoken to you before and speak to you now with two tongues?"

"With one tongue only," my father said. "And I too speak with one tongue. Believe me when I say that we do not wish to move to Lapwai."

"I believe you, Chief Joseph. So you must believe me. I say again to you and to your clan that you must leave Wallowa."

My father thought hard. His mouth was closed tight and his hands were pressed across his chest. He glanced at the snowy peaks, at the blue lake, and at the green meadows fading with the sun.

"You do not understand that Wallowa is my home. And you do not understand why."

The general was not listening. He said something to one of his soldiers, who smiled, but my father did not notice. I noticed and held my breath in fear.

"When I had lived on this earth for ten snows," my father said, "in this beautiful place that surrounds us, I climbed that mountain." He paused and pointed to the mountain with both hands open. "High up, where I could look beyond in all directions, I made a bed on a stone. I had no water and no food. I closed my eyes. I put a pebble in my nose and a pebble in each ear to keep me awake. I floated far beyond the sky, far beyond this world.

"Five suns I lay there, my stomach on the cold stone, my mouth burning with thirst. I began to wonder how many suns would rise before my guardian spirit came and spoke to me."

The general still was not listening. My father went on. He was talking more to himself than to the general.

"I wondered if my guardian spirit would come. If he would leave me nameless and alone because I was unworthy of being a man.

"Then without a sound, out of a quiet night, he came. I could not see him. Whether he was young or old I cannot say, but clearly I heard him speak a name.

"I climbed down happy from the snow mountain. Other young men, my friends, had also gone to the sacred place and were given names. We chanted our names until the moon went down and the sun came up.

"I have many names, but Thunder Rolling in the Mountains is the name that binds me forever to this Land of the Wandering Waters."

"I am tired of talk," the general said. "I have heard enough talk. You and your people will leave Wallowa before thirty suns come and go."

Too-hul-hul-sote was walking up and down, staring out from the folds of his blanket. He was a huge man with a fierce eye and a rumbling voice.

"Who are you to tell us what we must do?" he said to the general. "You did not make these mountains. The Spirit Chief made the mountains. He made the streams and meadows, the trees, the grass, the beasts that eat the grass and the birds that weave it into nests. The Spirit Chief made everything. Who is this man that will tell us to leave our home, our mother, and go to a place that does not belong to us?"

"I am that man," the general said.

My father moved between them. I am sure he feared that the hot words would end in a bad fight. Once, when the general first came to Lapwai, he fought with Too-hul-hul-sote, put chains on him, and locked him up in the soldier's jail.

"I can't move my people to Lapwai now," my father said. "The Snake River is flooding. We would need to cross from one shore to the other through torrents of water. Many of my people are women, children, and the old. I have thousands of cattle. Half of them would be swept away."

The general pointed a glittering sword at my father. "Listen," he shouted. "I have heard enough excuses. Now I speak my last words. If you have not moved your tribe from this place before thirty suns have risen and set, then I shall send soldiers with guns to drive you out."

My father drew his blanket close about him. "I hear your words," he said. "I carry them to our people. In thirty suns we will be gone. There must be no blood."

General Howard nodded his head. He did not smile, but there was a glint of pleasure in his eye. He motioned to a soldier. The soldier blew a trumpet and the band galloped off. My father watched them cross the meadow, splash through the stream, and swiftly disappear.

While he watched them and said nothing, I saw the Red Coats scramble out of the bushes. Swan Necklace was waiting with their horses. He got on his own horse and the three of them rode off. I knew where the Red Coats were going. Swift as arrows, they would ride to the village and tell all they had heard. They
would say that Chief Joseph had given in to the one-armed general. They would say that Too-hul-hul-sote had stood up to the general. Every word he had said would be said again.

The young warriors would listen to my father, for they loved him, but they would not obey him. They would never leave Wallowa. They would follow Too-hul-hul-sote to death if that is where he led them.

This was good. The idea of being driven away by soldiers to a strange place far from the home I loved made wild thoughts flash through my mind. I saw myself riding into the soldiers' camp with a torch, setting fire to their tents. I saw myself take aim with my rifle and shoot a soldier from his horse. I saw another soldier running across the meadow, and I shot him too.

F
IRE BURNED
in front of the council lodge. Our people were gathered around it, talking together. As we rode up, a deep silence fell upon the clan. Most of them would obey Joseph, their chieftain. All but the young warriors would follow him faithfully no matter where he led thm.

He stayed on his horse. "Listen to me with your hearts," he said to them, raising his voice against the wind. "You have heard the sad news. You know we must leave our home. Some among us, the young warriors, will say to you, 'Do not leave. Do not flee like old women. Fight. We shall live here in peace.'"

Everyone moved closer to him. "Now," he said, "many soldiers camp on our lake. As many as we have warriors, and they all carry guns. At Fort Lapwai hundreds of them wait. To the east and to the west more soldiers are waiting, many more. To escape them would be dodging hail in a hailstorm."

The people pressed closer to my father. They were terribly quiet. They felt the truth of his words, like heavy stones falling upon them.

From somewhere in the trees, Wah-lit-its called out, "Sitting Bull, the great Sioux chieftain, did not run. He fought Custer. He killed all of his soldiers."

"But where is Sitting Bull now?" Chief Joseph asked.

There was no answer from Wah-lit-its.

"He's far away," said my father, "hiding in Canada, the Old Lady's country."

"It would have been best had he stood and fought," said Two Moons. He stumped up and down, swinging his cudgel. "There would not be so many white soldiers."

"But there
are
too many white soldiers. So many, we must go," my father said.

Ollokot, my uncle and the best of the warriors, nodded. "You speak the truch," he said. He picked up a cherrywood bow. "This bow looks strong," he said, "but it cannot stand against someone stronger." With a quick movement of his massive hands, he snapped the bow in two.

My father held up his hand. "In ten suns we leave Wallowa. Make bundles of all you value. We will not return, not for a long time. What you leave behind white scavengers will steal."

My mother looked sad. In a few weeks she would
have a child. She wanted her child to be born in our Land of Wandering Waters. Many times she had said this. At my father's words, she sighed once, a deep sigh, but she made no protest.

The people waited for my father to say more. When he was silent they wandered off to the lodge. I heard no cries and no weeping. They had swallowed their tears.

A moon came up and the wind faded away. It was a time for love songs, but there were no sweet songs, only the beat of drums.

Before I went to bed I talked to Swan Necklace. The Red Coats had gone and he was guarding their horses in front of his father's lodge.

"You have heard Chief Joseph speak," I said. "Where do you stand?"

"I go with Red Moccasin Tops and Wah-lit-its," he said bravely.

"You guard their horses, but where are your weapons?"

"It is important to guard their horses. And I have a knife."

"But you do not carry it."

"It is hidden in the lodge."

"Why is it not in your belt?"

"I forgot to put it in my belt."

"It's dangerous to ride around without a weapon.
You're no longer a painter of pictures. You're a fighter against those who want to kill you."

"I don't feel like a fighter."

"You will when someone shoots at you."

"Do you believe that the Great Chieftain high above will protect me when someone shoots?"

"You must think so, then you'll be brave."

He got up and put his paints away. He was painting a blanket for our wedding.

Everything had been done for our wedding, or almost everything. First Two Moons and his wives had come to talk to my mother and father. They brought many presents—horses, blankets, wooden spoons, and an iron kettle.