Читать книгу Shaman's Dream: The Modoc War - Lu Boone's Mattson - Страница 31

When John Schonchin got started he never finished. He kept on saying the same thing over and over. The only difference was, he got madder and madder as he went along. He got going like something rolling down hill. A loose boulder. The veins would stand out on his neck and he’d sweat. And if you didn’t keep looking at him, he would step out of the center, give up the speaker’s place, and come over and shove against you. He’d push his big stinking face into yours and make you agree. Or try to. So you better keep your eyes locked on his, keep watching for a break, when he rolled onto a level place and you could take your turn in the middle. Or someone else could who knew how to sing more than one tune.

The younger man fingered the scar on his face, hooked his eyes onto John Schonchin, and waited for his chance.

“No!” Schonchin roared, this time his whole body was in it. “You don’t know what you’re sayin’! You weren’t there. You weren’t even born yet. I can tell you, and you better listen. This is just like that time. There was supposed to be a feast then, too. And gifts! I tell you, there’s only one gift a Boston ever is willing to give an Indian.” He was so mad the spit flew out with his words. “And it comes out of the end of a gun. Unless it’s a knife between the ribs. No! I tell you. It’s the same now as it was then.”

“But this Meacham ain’t Ben Wright!” someone in the back shouted.

“Yes he is! He’s back. He’s older. He wears black. No fancy curls on his head. No slick gunslinger clothes on him. But it’s him. It’s him every time we meet a Boston. Listen to me!”

“We did!” they shouted. “Sit down! Your turn’s done!”

John Schonchin was shaking, so pissed he couldn’t continue. Finally! That was good! Off to the side, Euchoaks raised his chant and the women’s voices followed his, singing.

The young man leaped into the swirling sound to take Schonchin’s place.

“Now I’ve got some questions, and I want answers. Toby, it seems to me like you’ve gone over to them. You shacked up with this Riddle, and you started thinking like them. What’s the difference between you and this Meacham? How come we should listen to you? Seems like you shed your skin, and when we’re listening to you, we’re hearing him.”

“Don’t let her speak!” one voice shouted, and a dozen more agreed.

“Sit down! Sit down! We don’t want to hear her. Give us Black Jim. What’s he say?”

“No. I’m not done. Toby, what’s your answer? And then I’ve got another question, for Keintpoos.”

“No you don’t. One at a time. Okay, let’s hear Toby. But then its Black Jim!”

She shoved her way into the center, pushing aside the taller men.

“A-tuck!!” she shouted. “All right! I’ll tell you. You know it already. But it could be you forgot: I’m Modoc! That’s why I’m telling you what I’m telling you. You have to ask Meacham how come he’s doing his talking; I’m doing mine on account of that. But I’m not Modoc like you big-mouth men! I’m Modoc like all the other women you hauled off to Yreka. We got sold into the Boston’s beds -- by you -- so you could get some saddle or a pony you took a fancy to. We learned more stuff there than just English, let me tell you. Now you can learn from us! First, we learned there’s lots of them. Lots! And we learned they’re strong. Strong! And we learned you can’t get away. If you do, they hunt you out and haul you back. And then, once they know you’ll run for it if you can, they lock you in. And that’s when it really gets bad.”

Some of the men muttered, but they let her finish.

“But we learned some other stuff. We learned you can live with them if you find the right one. That’s what this Meacham is, a right one. We learned you can get some of what they got. Maybe not much… .” She stopped long enough to let them catch up, then she bent forward and hissed at them: “… but it can be a lot more than nothing!”

She straightened up and looked over them.

“That’s not what this Meacham would tell you. It’s what a Modoc woman knows. That’s it! I’m done!”

She shoved back out through the circle, past Black Jim who was coming in to the center. He dodged past her, paying no attention to the women who were screeching to let Toby know she said right. He jumped into the center. “Listen to me now!” he shouted.

“Maybe I have’t been around much longer than Toby. Not long enough to see what John Schonchin and some of you others saw. But what he says is right! It isn’t just the old men think so. We shouldn’t go! Don’t listen to those women. They’ll always try to turn you down some easy path, thinking they can get you out of things. But I’ll tell you, there are some things you shouldn’t try to get out of. If you ever mean to call yourselves men from here on out, you better agree with me now: We won’t go! And we’re going to teach them to leave us be!”

Curley Headed Doctor shook his maned head and raised up his singing, and the noise from the men near the center made your head split. And when someone threw more brush on the fire, it was more than heat made everyone sweat!