Tecumseh said:
“Will our mother die? Is she dying now?”
Chiksika leaned over and put his hand on Tecumseh’s neck. “She will not die. The part of her that was our father’s has died and gone to be with him. But the part of her that is our mother stays with us. Now for a year she is not to bathe or change her clothes, nor dress her hair. She will not laugh, and she will stay in the
wigewa
when the dances are held. Tomorrow all our people will go and give her a Condolence Day, for she was the chief’s woman, and then she will cease to cry aloud. For the rest of the year she will weep only in silence but will remain unkempt. When that year is past, you will then see her as she was before.”
Star Watcher leaned toward the fire, listening intently to all this. She knew that she would have to do very much for her mother and for the children during that year, and she needed to understand how everything would be. And she kept wondering also about the hurt that made Stands Firm limp.
“Who will become chief of the Kispoko now? Will it be you?” Tecumseh asked Chiksika.
He shook his head. “She-me-ne-to, Black Snake. He will now be the war chief of the Shawnees. I am not old enough for that. As for our own family, soon we will move to Chillicothe Town.”
Star Watcher gasped. “Leave our father’s town?”
“After this it will be Black Snake’s Town. Chillicothe is the town of Black Fish, the principal peace chief. By the old laws it is the peace chief’s duty to take us as his, and care for us. Everything will be different now, because of the whitefaces. Maybe there will not even be any towns.” He wished he had not said that. It was too ominous. His gaze passed over the little group, his sister and his four little brothers. Chiksika was now the oldest male in the family, and it would be his responsibility to protect them and to hunt meat for them all, and above all to keep his promise to his father. He must raise all his little brothers to be strong men who would bring honor to the family. Chiksika looked at the helpless brood, thinking of this, and even though he hurt in every part and was shaken with exhaustion, he felt hisfather’s life-power spread in him, and he felt what it was to be his father and to love them as his father had.
There would be so much to do. This family would require so much of him that he would scarcely have time to be a young man. Though he had fully become a man in these last two days, he was scarcely over being a boy.
But Chiksika did not resent this burden that fate had put upon his back. His father, Hard Striker, had taught him that the purpose of a Shawnee man’s life is to be worthy of Weshemoneto’s approval, and that worthiness lay in serving the family and the People. Now events had placed him early in that position to serve them, so there was no question in his mind that their needs were above his own desires.
But if the council chose to continue the war against the Long Knives, he himself might be killed soon, too soon to keep his promises. He would have to talk to Tecumseh soon about those promises.
C HIKSIKA AND T ECUMSEH SAT LATE BY THE FIRE. C HIKSIKA had laced a brown-haired scalp onto a hickory hoop and was flensing the skin side with the edge of his knife blade. “This,” he said, pointing to the scalp, “is what a white man looks like after he has been made into a good white man. The only good white men look like this.”
He said that he had killed three white men but had only this one scalp because it had not been possible to get to two of the bodies in the fighting. “Surely there never was such a war before,” Chiksika said. “For the day afterward my ears could not hear anything.”
“Why do you want the hair of this man?” Tecumseh asked. It seemed strange to him that part of a man was being dressed as one dresses the hide of a beaver or muskrat from a trap. His father had owned many old scalplocks, but Tecumseh had never thought about them
“Will our mother die? Is she dying now?”
Chiksika leaned over and put his hand on Tecumseh’s neck. “She will not die. The part of her that was our father’s has died and gone to be with him. But the part of her that is our mother stays with us. Now for a year she is not to bathe or change her clothes, nor dress her hair. She will not laugh, and she will stay in the
wigewa
when the dances are held. Tomorrow all our people will go and give her a Condolence Day, for she was the chief’s woman, and then she will cease to cry aloud. For the rest of the year she will weep only in silence but will remain unkempt. When that year is past, you will then see her as she was before.”
Star Watcher leaned toward the fire, listening intently to all this. She knew that she would have to do very much for her mother and for the children during that year, and she needed to understand how everything would be. And she kept wondering also about the hurt that made Stands Firm limp.
“Who will become chief of the Kispoko now? Will it be you?” Tecumseh asked Chiksika.
He shook his head. “She-me-ne-to, Black Snake. He will now be the war chief of the Shawnees. I am not old enough for that. As for our own family, soon we will move to Chillicothe Town.”
Star Watcher gasped. “Leave our father’s town?”
“After this it will be Black Snake’s Town. Chillicothe is the town of Black Fish, the principal peace chief. By the old laws it is the peace chief’s duty to take us as his, and care for us. Everything will be different now, because of the whitefaces. Maybe there will not even be any towns.” He wished he had not said that. It was too ominous. His gaze passed over the little group, his sister and his four little brothers. Chiksika was now the oldest male in the family, and it would be his responsibility to protect them and to hunt meat for them all, and above all to keep his promise to his father. He must raise all his little brothers to be strong men who would bring honor to the family. Chiksika looked at the helpless brood, thinking of this, and even though he hurt in every part and was shaken with exhaustion, he felt hisfather’s life-power spread in him, and he felt what it was to be his father and to love them as his father had.
There would be so much to do. This family would require so much of him that he would scarcely have time to be a young man. Though he had fully become a man in these last two days, he was scarcely over being a boy.
But Chiksika did not resent this burden that fate had put upon his back. His father, Hard Striker, had taught him that the purpose of a Shawnee man’s life is to be worthy of Weshemoneto’s approval, and that worthiness lay in serving the family and the People. Now events had placed him early in that position to serve them, so there was no question in his mind that their needs were above his own desires.
But if the council chose to continue the war against the Long Knives, he himself might be killed soon, too soon to keep his promises. He would have to talk to Tecumseh soon about those promises.
C HIKSIKA AND T ECUMSEH SAT LATE BY THE FIRE. C HIKSIKA had laced a brown-haired scalp onto a hickory hoop and was flensing the skin side with the edge of his knife blade. “This,” he said, pointing to the scalp, “is what a white man looks like after he has been made into a good white man. The only good white men look like this.”
He said that he had killed three white men but had only this one scalp because it had not been possible to get to two of the bodies in the fighting. “Surely there never was such a war before,” Chiksika said. “For the day afterward my ears could not hear anything.”
“Why do you want the hair of this man?” Tecumseh asked. It seemed strange to him that part of a man was being dressed as one dresses the hide of a beaver or muskrat from a trap. His father had owned many old scalplocks, but Tecumseh had never thought about them
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