Читать книгу Shaman's Dream: The Modoc War - Lu Boone's Mattson - Страница 51

It was Sun made them dally on their way over from Sprague River. It was the kind of day said put away the heavy robes soon, move on into the summer houses. They came over for the council because they had been summoned -- and because there would be gambling after. The riders who had come to tell them to head over to the Williamson River said so. Keintpoos wouldn’t stop it, not this time. And maybe there would be something to eat. So they mostly all came over, all except for a few who stayed back to be be with Old Schonchin.

Eventually enough of them straggled in to start the meeting -- the Sprague River people over by Yainax; the Hot Creeks and Willow Creeks from down at the ranches by Mahogany Mountain; the ones who had been gathered up from Lost River and Tule Lake. After old friends finished with their greetings, they all sat down together on the grass because Sun was shining and because something was coming that was about them.

John Schonchin started the talking. He said he did it because he felt like he belonged to two bands -- to the Sprague River Modocs because his brother was their la`qi and he had been raised among them. To the Lost River band because that was where his home was, and these men were his family to him. The Lost River Indians had called everybody over here to council because this was a thing for all the Modocs. They shouldn’t forget they were none of them Klamaths. They were Modocs, every one.

Euchoaks talked to them. There was a great danger hanging over them. They could be sick with forgetting. Living on another’s land, you could get so you didn’t remember how to do things. You could get to thinking that another’s way was the right one. When if you remembered, you knew the right way, the way you had been given. It wasn’t like another’s way was wrong for other people to follow. But it wasn’t what had been your people’s. He was there to remind them about that, he and the other shamans.

Everybody knew it would be Keintpoos’ time to talk soon, and they wished he’d hurry up and get at it. They knew it was going to be about the trouble with the Klamaths. They had been hearing from them that the Lost River Modocs were all just women. And it seemed like it was true. Didn’t they let their rails and fish be taken? Didn’t they let their women get troubled by the Klamath women, let their children get whipped?

Pretty soon he got up and said it. Scarfaced Charley stood with him. They told what had happened over at the agency. How Knapp had said about Jack being a bastard. How he had said he’d kill him and sent him out of his house. How he wouldn’t protect them, even when that was what Meacham promised.

“But how come you let the Klamaths take that timber and didn’t put up no fight?” someone from Sprague River called out.

“Because I give my word on it,” Jack said. “I told it to the Meacham.”

“But how come you just take it? The tyees promised, too. That they’d keep the Klamaths off of you. But they ain’t doing it. You can’t let the Klamaths run you. It’s your place here now.”

“I’ve done some thinking about that. That’s where the trouble comes in,” Keintpoos said. “It isn’t our place.”

“Who says so? The Big Tyee in Washington says it is.”

“But it isn’t the Big Tyee’s to give.”

“Well, he done it.”

Jack said: “He tried to. But who passed it over to him to start with? No one had to do anything, I think, unless the Big Tyee kept to the treaty. And for a long time now, nothing’s happened. They left us alone over at Lost River. Think about it. It’s five years and more, and he says the land is his, but he never came across with what he said he would. You’re hungry now; so you know what I’m saying. Same with my people. When I think about that, I think there’s no treaty. I take my mark off it. If I need a treaty, I can use the old one, the one we had before, with Steele. That was good enough according to me.

“They forced me to put my mark on this last one even though I didn’t agree with it, even though I didn’t get it, what it meant. Same with Old Schonchin. You can ask him. Anyhow, I take my mark off this one. If there’s no treaty, there was no land given. And if there’s no land given, this place here belongs to the Klamaths. Always has. Our place is off yonder at Lost River, and I mean to go there!”

“But what about Knapp?”

“What about him? He’s the one who shows what’s up. What’s up is locking us in, with or without us liking it.”

“Well, if you ask Old Schonchin … .”

“I don’t need to ask him anything,” Keintpoos said. “He turned into a natural reservation Indian. Once he was a fighter for his people, but all he knows to do now is wait on a government gift. All you Modocs from over at Sprague River, you know what I’m saying is true. All he knows to do is take care of his old age. Anything you ask him will come off of that, you can bet.”

“If you’re going to live here on this reservation,” Curley Headed Doctor said to them, “only way you can do it is to forget. Don’t you remember, you people? You been sitting there five years since the treaty, and you fall into forgetting who you are. I’m here to remind you. You’re Modocs, not Klamaths. All them white ways! You and the Klamaths! Can’t tell you from one another. Can’t tell either of you from Knapp. You forgot how to take care of yourselves, how to take from the earth that is yours and give back. You forget what the old people showed us they had learned. All you know any more is how to get into line and wait for the beef and the blankets. And how to watch out for the army. And listen to Meacham. And hope for any easy old age. How can you forget just like that?”

And then, after Euchoaks had finished shaming them, Jack laid out his plan.