Streams to the River, River to the Sea

  But my joy did not last. As I took Meeko in my arms and left the river, Charbonneau came out of our tent. I had not built a fire yet. He glanced at the ashes and then at me.

  "No fire," he said. "Shoshone swim. Shoshone fix hair. Fix trinkets. Look pretty. No fire."

  I knelt down and fanned the ashes until I coaxed a spark out of them. I put some twigs on and fanned them alive and set branches on the burning twigs. Charbonneau watched me, pulling at his beard.

  When I stood up, he took the baby. Without another word he struck me in the face with a backward sweep of his hand.

  The blow sent me sprawling to my knees. I crouched by the fire, afraid to get up for fear of another blow. He broke off a branch and struck me on the back. As he raised the branch to strike me again, there was a loud noise and a leaping flame in the trees, and a bullet passed close above us.

  Captain Clark stood beyond the tent, not far away, with the rifle in one hand. With the other hand he dropped powder into the barrel and tamped it down. He swung the rifle up and glanced at Charbonneau, but said nothing.

  Charbonneau did not look at Captain Clark or at the gun pointed at him, but he knew they were there. He tossed the branch into the fire and strolled down to the river, humming to himself.

  As the sun came up, Captain Clark got the camp awake and we started off. The river ran swift, so ice-cold that the men's legs ached as they dragged the heavy canoes behind them. Beaver dams had to be cut away. Firewood was scarce, though green brush grew heavy along the banks. There was little to eat, a half meal each day. The men began to grumble.

  On the seventh day they felt better. Near dawn we found four deerskins hanging on a tree, left there by Captain Lewis. At noon Captain Clark caught a glimpse of a horseman crossing the river ahead of us. Just a glimpse, and then he disappeared.

  At the time we did not know that the horseman was a spy, sent by the Shoshone. Captain Lewis had found my people only a few days after he had left us, but the Shoshone doubted him when he said that Captain Clark and his men were coming up the river in canoes. They had sent the spy to see if he was telling the truth.

  Three days after this happened, Captain Clark and Charbonneau and I set off on foot early in the morning. We had come to a meadow thick with cottonwood trees when I heard the neigh of a horse, then the sound of hoofs, then Shoshone voices shouting a Shoshone welcome, "Ah-hi-e, ah-hi-e!"

  Two horsemen came out of the trees. I clutched Meeko. I ran and stumbled toward them. I sucked my fingers, saying with this sign, "You are from my tribe, the people who suckled me." The men sucked their fingers, too, and lifted me from the ground, baby and all.

  Chapter Twenty

  Women came out of the trees. A girl was among them. She had changed. She was not so slender as I remembered her and she walked slowly, with a limp. Could it be my cousin, Running Deer? Not until we were close, in each other's arms, was I certain.

  "I thought you were dead. Many times I prayed for your spirit," I said to her. "But here you are, alive. And here among our people. How did you ever come this long way? How long did it take you? Were you hurt?"

  Running Deer did not answer because I was squeezing the breath out of her. Not until Captain Clark came and took me by the arm did I let her go.

  He took me across the meadow and through the trees to a lodge beside the river, a lean-to made of cottonwood saplings and hides. Inside it was dark, though a small fire was burning. It smelled of war paint and buffalo grease and warrior sweat. We sat down and took off our moccasins as proof of friendship.

  A Shoshone chieftain was standing in the deep shadows at the back of the lodge. "We have a feeble fire," he said to one of the warriors. "Encourage it with a piece of your fat pine. It is not my wish to talk to people I cannot see."

  His voice filled the lodge. It was shrill yet strong. I had heard it before, some time long ago. It reminded me of another voice, my father's voice. But it was not his.

  The chieftain had fierce eyes and was tall and thin and wore a headband of eagle feathers. On his forehead was a yellow dot circled in red, which spoke of friendship and peace. His cheeks were painted with yellow sunbursts, which meant that a new day had dawned. In the dim light he looked like my father. Could this be?

  The warrior placed a pine bough dripping with resin on the fire. The chieftain stepped forward out of the shadows into the light.

  He looked taller in the light, much taller than my father. He cleared his throat to speak, but before he uttered a word, I saw at the corner of his mouth the scar I had given him once, the time we were playing together in the river. It was my brother, Cameahwait, He Who Never Walks.

  Meeko was in my arms, but I hugged my brother anyway.

  Charbonneau shouted at me so I gave him the baby, and my brother and I hugged each other again. I would have hugged him a third time except that he suddenly remembered that he was a Shoshone chief and a man. Chieftains and men do not hug women when other people are looking, and seldom at any other time.

  I tried to speak but tears choked me. The tears would not stop.

  My brother turned away and faced the white men and said a few words of welcome. He held a pipe hung with feathers, which was very tall and had a bowl made of bright green stone. He lit it with a hot coal and pointed the stem of the pipe toward the east, where the sun was, then to the sacred points of the world.

  My brother held the pipe out to Captain Lewis, but before the captain could take it, he drew it back and repeated the ceremony three times.

  He pointed the stem at the heavens, at the magic circle. He drew on the pipe three times, puffed three times, then held it out for Captain Lewis, Captain Clark, and the other white men. At last he gave it to his warriors.

  Captain Lewis stood up and told him why he had come. He said that he was on his way to a place called the sea, the great waters that were too salty to drink, and that he needed many horses to reach this far place.

  "I know this place. We have shells from this place," my brother said. He frowned. "The Blackfeet came this year. They came in the spring and killed nine of our people and took women away and many horses. But we have many horses left and you can have what you wish of them."

  Afterward, when they no longer needed me for the language, I went to look for Running Deer. As soon as I stepped outside a hand touched my shoulder.

  I turned to find Man Who Smiles staring down at me, smiling his crooked little smile. He smiled crookedly all the time because a Blackfoot arrow had struck him when he was a boy and twisted his mouth.

  "She has the black eyes of our people and the skin of the white people," he said.

  He said this softly to Meeko as he leaned over and gave him a pat on the head. Meeko smiled because the man was smiling.

  "This child is very pretty," he said. He gave Meeko a nip under the chin. Meeko gurgled and kicked. Captain Clark had spoiled him, the rest of the men had spoiled him, and Scannon had spoiled him too.

  "I am going to steal this pretty little girl," Man Who Smiles said.

  "The baby is not pretty," I said. "It is a handsome baby, not pretty. And he is a boy and not a girl."

  "Ah-hi-e. A boy, of course. And how handsome he is. Someday he will break many hearts. Oh, yes."

  The man touched both of Meeko's clenched fists. "Someday these hands will wield a mighty bow. They will send true arrows, kill many buffalo, slay the Great White Bear. What is your name, little one?"

  Meeko did not answer. And I looked at Man Who Smiles and did not answer. I was trembling too much.

  Once—long ago in another far place, it seemed—Man Who Smiles was young, three times my age, but young. He went to talk to my father and my father said yes, he could marry me, though he had two wives already. It was a promise my father had made to him and solemnly sealed. When twelve moons had risen and set, the marriage could take place.

  Man Who Smiles gave back my gaze. His hair, which was now gray, was braided in a loop with porcupine quills and hung over one shoulder. He kept
fingering the quill;. He was nervous.

  "What is the name of this one?" he asked.

  "Jean Baptiste Charbonneau," I said.

  "Charbonneau is the one with the hair on his face, and the eyes way back in his head that you can barely see? This Charbonneau is the boy's father?"

  Women were gathering, standing off, but close enough to hear. Among them I saw three eager squaws who might be his wives.

  "You, Sacagawea, are the mother," he said, smiling the smile that never faded. "You are the child's mother, yet by the law of our people, by the sacred law of the Shoshone, by your father's solemn promise, freely given, you belong to me. And the child belongs to me also. This is the law."

  He had strong fingers. Before I could move, he snatched Meeko away. He grasped my hand. "Come," he said. "We will see Chief Cameahwait. We will talk. He will listen to me and give his consent."

  My brother and the two captains were still in the lodge passing another peace pipe around. Charbonneau had left them. While we talked, he lounged in the doorway, listening to the Shoshone words, trying to understand what we were saying. But when he saw Meeko snatched from my arms he ran toward us.

  "You Indian, what happens?" he shouted. "What you do with baby?"

  Man Who Smiles did not answer. He turned his back and strode into the lodge. Charbonneau followed him.

  I could hear the baby crying. The women came closer. The wives of Man Who Smiles plucked at my sleeve and whispered advice.

  The prettiest one said, "He is not a good husband. You will not like this one."

  "He sleeps much," another said. "He does not hunt. When he is not sleeping, he eats."

  "He eats much," the third wife said.

  They edged up and fingered my blue bead belt and said they would like to have it. Would I trade it for some white antelope hides that would make a fine jacket? Behind them, Running Deer was watching. She was ready to help me if I needed her.

  I ran into the lodge. Chief Cameahwait was asking Charbonneau for silence. "Sacagawea," he said, "is married to this one. She was married by the laws of the Minnetarees." He pointed at Charbonneau. "Before that, long before, she was promised by her father, by my father, to Man Who Smiles. A solemn promise, promised in true faith. I heard it promised by my father who is now dead."

  The baby had begun to cry, so Man Who Smiles passed him to me. I turned Meeko right side up and gave him a breast to feed on. I was ready to tell both of the men and my brother and all of the women who were now crowded into the doorway that Meeko was mine. I would tell them that I would not give him up, no matter what was said and who said it.

  Man Who Smiles stood holding a lance with a foxtail tied to it. Charbonneau had a hand on the hilt of his long-bladed knife. They did not look at each other, as if the other one was not there, but suddenly they were angry foes.

  Someone warned Captain Clark of trouble. He came and stood between the two men. He looked sharply at me and said, "The choice is yours, Janey. Which man do you choose?"

  My heart beat in my throat. Then I could not hear it beat at all.

  "Choose," Captain Clark said. "We don't have days to make up our minds."

  It is you that I choose. It is you that I love, were the words that I longed to say to him. But then I said, slowly, under my breath, "Toussaint Charbonneau."

  The words fell like stones. Captain Clark knew they were stones. He knew how I felt about him.

  Running Deer was waiting outside the lodge. She had not heard what I said to Captain Clark, yet she knew what I wanted to say. She had seen me walk into the camp that morning at his side. She had seen us go into the lodge together. She had watched when I had to choose between the two men.

  Running Deer knew all this, but she said only, "You will kill yourself and your baby if you go on to the Big Lake. It is many, many sleeps away. None of our men have gone, but they have heard. They say that the mountains are high and the canyons deep and the rivers so fast that even the fish have trouble trying to swim."

  Meeko began to whimper. She took him from me.

  "What happened to his cradleboard?" she asked.

  "It got lost in a storm."

  "My baby died at the end of winter. It was a hard winter. We all went down the mountain, near the Great Falls, but still we found little to eat. That was when I lost my baby. I have her cradleboard if you would like it."

  She took me to a small tipi of willow brush and hides, where she lived with her husband and his two other wives. He was asleep, so she was quiet with the cradleboard and did not give it to me until we were outside again. It was new and made of white birch. Meeko liked the blue-jay feathers that hung down from its top.

  The sun was hot. We went and sat under a tree and did not talk for a long time.

  Then Running Deer said, "You are going to the Big Lake because you love Captain Clark. You love the red hair and the blue eyes and the way he treats you. Also because he is a white man."

  Her husband had come awake. He stood at the door of the tipi, holding his stomach. "I have three wives," he shouted. "But where are the wives? Where is the food? I guess I find myself two more wives, maybe three..."

  Running Deer did not move or answer. "For this I will get a big beating," she said. "Does your husband beat you?"

  "Sometimes."

  "Big or small?"

  "Both."

  "What does he beat you with?"

  "His fist, usually. Sometimes with a stick."

  "Do you get used to it?"

  "Never."

  "I do, a little. If you married Captain Clark, would he beat you?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "He would never have to beat me."

  "Shushu," Running Deer said, which means "good," but she said it as though she did not believe me.

  Charbonneau came and stood over us. He glanced at the sun. "Time for eat," he said. "No food here anywhere. Shoshone eat sometime maybe?"

  "Sometime," I said.

  "Tomorrow, maybe," Running Deer said.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  By nightfall clouds covered the sky. There was heavy ice on the ground the next morning and the wind blew hard. It was time to start on the long journey.

  My brother, He Who Never Walks, gathered horses for us. The Blackfeet had stolen many from him, but he still had some seven hundred, and also some mules, he told me. He made a map on the ground for us, piling up sand in little mounds to show where the best passes through the Shining Mountains were, the mountains always covered with snow.

  He drew a picture in the dust about the big river we were to follow. He said that he had heard from the Nez Percé, the Pierced Noses, that the river ran toward the setting sun and lost itself at last in the great lake of bad-tasting, evil-smelling water.

  The canoes were buried at night, deep in the forest, so no one could find them. The blades of the canoe paddles were cut off to make pack-saddles for the horses. Packs were made of hides and filled with dried food, powder and ball, medicine and things that Captain Lewis had gathered after we left the Great Falls.

  Chief Cameahwait did not wish me to go. "The river you follow I have never seen," he said. "No Shoshone has seen it. But I have been warned. It is a wild river. A bad spirit rules it, the lord of its frightful waters and the dark canyons they race through. Do not go. You will be of no help. Stay among us and mind your baby."

  "I have given my word to go," I said.

  "Given it to the Great Spirit?"

  "No."

  "To what then?"

  "I have given it," I said and dodged away from his question.

  "To Captain Clark?"

  I was silent.

  "You follow a bad path, sister Sacagawea. It will bring you unhappiness."

  With this warning loud in my ears I went to Running Deer. She was making a pair of moccasins for Ben York. I told her about my brother's warning.

  "What will you do?" she asked.

  "Go," I said. "But now I am going to the cave. Do you remem
ber how we used to go there and talk to the Great Spirit?"

  "I remember. We went in summer and other times too. And after I escaped from the Minnetarees, when I got home and was nearly dead from hunger I went to thank the Great Spirit."

  "I am going, if only you will take care of Meeko."

  "Yes, it would be dangerous with Meeko. Do you remember how we used to get lost? Once we were lost for three whole sleeps."

  "Sometimes those days come again in my dreams."

  I fed the baby and left him in her arms. I did not tell Charbonneau where I was going because he would laugh and forbid me to go. If I went anyway, I would get a beating when I got back, but it did not matter.

  Beyond the camp where the river runs fast between towering walls, there is a path that leads upward—not really a path, just handholds in the stone.

  Along the trail to the place where the path begins, I picked up pebbles. Without them it is easy to get lost in the cave, as Running Deer and I did one time.

  The sun was out but a cold wind blew. I had to climb hand over hand and pull myself up. The handholds were covered with ice. I went slowly, the bag of pebbles on my back. There is a broad ledge halfway up where pine trees grow. Here I stopped, built a fire, and broke off a branch from a pine tree and made a torch.

  All kinds of snakes live in the cave, mostly rattlers. They come out late in the spring and warm themselves on the ledge. Then they crawl upward over a barren slope to the top of the mountain. At the first sign of winter they come down and lie around on the ledge for a few days.

  Dozens of them were on the ledge. They lingered there as though they were sad to leave the sun and go into the cave and live in a dark world until spring came again. They did not bother me because I was careful not to bother them.

  In the morning when the sun rises it shines far back into the mouth of the cave. Now the sun was overhead and I had to use the torch. The walls are black and shine with water that drips down from above. The ceiling shines too and is very low so you have to stoop.