SUN
STALKER
a novel by Larry Rice
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In 1787, the United States Congress passed the Northwest Ordinance, which contained a section titled The Utmost Good Faith Law. This law declared, “that utmost good faith shall always be observed towards the Indians. Their lands and property shall never be taken from them without their consent, and in their property rights and liberty they shall never be invaded or disturbed unless in just and lawful wars authorized by Congress; but laws founded in justice and humanity shall from time to time be made for preventing wrongs to them, and for preserving peace and friendship with them. “
The Organic Act of 1848 established the Oregon Territory and extended the Utmost Good Faith Law to the new territory. Indian lands were not to be taken without their consent; a morally correct and noble assertion nullified by passage of The Oregon Donation Land Act of 1850 which granted 320 acres to all settlers in Oregon over 18 years of age. This act made it legal to claim land without consent or treaty whether or not Indians already lived there and reduced Indian land by almost six million acres.
So much for “utmost good faith”. The inevitable collision of cultures happened a century previously, now came the mop-up crews; coupled with this new legislation was a plan to remove all Indians from Western Oregon, to be overseen by the newly created Office of the Superintendent of Indian Affairs.
Indians were ejected from their property and villages burned, many murdered in cold blood by ” volunteers “, Indian haters operating outside of any established authority, little more than xenophobic desperados bent on genocide, whose vengeful, murderous raids were often born in taverns and nourished with whiskey soaked bigotry.
In Northern California, not far away, the Shasta Indians made treaty with the United States Government at Fort Jones on the coast. At the celebration following the treaty signing, the Indians were fed strychnine laced beef and bread. Then the vigilantes burned every village and killed most of the remaining tribe members. Of the Shasta nation, which numbered about four thousand, 30 women and 170 men survived. Adding insult to injury, the treaty was never ratified by congress.
The courts became a violent bludgeon with which to beat the Indians into destitution and submission, legally authorizing the theft of land and resources, trampling on Indian rights, pride and dignity at every turn. For three dollars and a signature, a citizen could indenture an Indian for twenty-five years. Those who resisted were removed or killed. Local bands of volunteers roaming the countryside killing Indian families received money and commendations from the state. Citizens were paid fifty cents to five dollars for Indian scalps. California paid out over one million dollars for scalps. Go figure.
This is what Native Americans were up against. This was the kind of legal system to which they were forced to adjust.
Events in Northern California and Southern Oregon had swept along swiftly and powerfully, as if urged forward by the tempo of the mighty rivers rushing to sea. Those Indians that were determined to remain peaceable like the Cow Creek band that lived along the Umpqua River who ceded their land to the United States government for 2.3 cents per acre when the government was selling similar land for $1.25 an acre (by the usual terms - a little cash and a lot of junk over a twenty year span) found themselves without a home and protection. They were hunted down like animals and driven out or killed.
There were plenty of good Americans who sympathized with the plight of the Indians and worked for their betterment, but theirs was not the prevailing political attitude or public sentiment at the time, and the law abiding had no control over the hostile, racist, greedy, lawless factions bent on extermination of the red people. Even among those who would spare the Indians’ unnecessary suffering there was an underlying belief that Native Americans were doomed and destined to disappear in the path of Western civilization; that their only salvation was to adopt the ways of the white man – speech, dress, avocation and ideologies. Even the sincere and well meaning held the opinion that only hard working dirt diggers had a place in the heaven. They actually believed that a red man’s mind could be emptied out like a bucket and replaced with that of a white man. Nothing could have been further from the truth. For the sake of their children, the red people might cease to war, but they would never cease to fight for the right to be.
The brainwashing and indoctrination of the vulnerable, impressionable minds of Indian children was the next logical step in the destruction of Indian culture and spiritualism. Even the most liberal minded of American society pursued with religious zeal the idea that the Indian way of life was a threat to white administration. By removing children from their homes and placing them in boarding schools where they were not allowed to speak their own language and were trained to enter the social order at the lowest levels, and by brow-beating them into submission and then force feeding them religious dogma, the non-Indians hoped to erase the Native Americans from existence without assaulting their own consciences with all the untidy blood and death that accompanies outright genocide. Whether this reflected the attitude of the populace or not was irrelevant to those on the receiving end. It had become policy and law in a state where money rules, from behind a smokescreen of rhetoric.
It is sad to consider how much the two cultures had to contribute to one another’s benefit that went untapped. It might have been a beautiful progression for humanity. Perhaps the evolution is still unfolding. Maybe Americans will succeed in melding spirituality and practicality before it is too late. Maybe American society will come to recognize that God is a living entity manifested in the earth from which we arise.
Only time will tell.
1.
Big Belly was certainly not one of the brightest of the young warriors, but he was one of the meanest and by far the most vociferous. He invariably made a nuisance of himself around the council fire. Being the most treacherous and violent did not earn him the most respect, however. His victories were often achieved by superior numbers, ferocity and surprise attack and the rewards were rarely worth the effort and sacrifice. Half his victims were women and children and half the rest were his own braves and yet he personally felt he received half the respect and honor his deeds warranted.
As for courage, Sun Stalker had his own definition. He maintained that one had to be smart enough to know fear before bravery entered the equation. Big Belly was wild and implacable, but his recklessness and lack of planning usually resulted in mourning around the campfires. Big Belly was bold, belligerent, cruel and deadly, someone to be reckoned with these days; just the kind of man Sun Stalker chose to avoid.
Sun Stalker had no real interest in the politics of his tribe, nor did he find power and glory alluring. He was a seeker and wanderer by destiny, a storyteller and historian by choice and a warrior out of necessity. He did not enjoy killing and he certainly derived no pleasure from the bloodthirsty attacks perpetrated on helpless, sleeping villages or lonely cabins. He fought down a yawn as Big Belly ranted on. One of the head chiefs, Right Arm, actually did fall asleep and had to be nudged awake when his snoring became audible.
Big Belly finally concluded and sat down. A sigh of relief spread through the council and the pipe was quickly re-kindled.
" I am made to think, " the head chief, Bending Willow, said, " these white eyes are more trouble than they are worth. It is possible to never even see them. They are disease ridden and crazy and they stink like death. I say the less we have to do with them the better. We can go on living our lives and the seasons will turn as always. Man Above has never let us down. We have always been here and always will be. We already have our hands full with our ancient enemies. "
Several of the leaders grunted their accord.
" This much is true, " Eagle Face, one of the lesser chiefs, said, " we have enough trouble without searching for more. A hard winter is coming and we have much to prepare. We should be out hunting and smoking meat. That is what we should be discussing here. " There was a murmur of agreement and also some good hearted snickering. Eagle Face was well known for his voracious appetite.
One of the young braves was urged forward by his companions.
" May I speak, Grandfather? " The young man used the salutation reserved for a respected elder.
" Must we listen to every pup? This is a decision of men, " Big Belly complained.
The young braves bristled with pride and raised their voices in a chorus of angry objections.
Bending Willow waved them all to silence and fixed Big Belly with a scornful glare. " We are not here to quarrel like children, that much is certain. We must always show respect to our younger brothers. Their vision is new and fresh and vital to our people. A brave is a brave. Death does not ask your age. They are required to sacrifice their lives as quickly as any one else. That is why they are included. It would be rude and foolish to do otherwise. You may speak to the council, Running Fox. I can see that you are the spokesman for many of the young braves. "
" My heart thanks you, Chief Bending Willow. I come before you with great respect and humility, but I will not bite my tongue. My heart must speak out what it sees to be the truth. I do speak for many of my brothers. Our feelings burn. Where honor should reside there is hollowness. What is life without honor? The white eyes have no sense of honor and they would have ours. They have lied to us and cheated us again and again. Traded us trifles for large portions of our territory, the land of our children's children, the sacred home of our ancestors. They have made fools of us. They have shamed us. We are made to believe we must make a stand. It is wrong to think we can live our lives avoiding these white eyes. They come from across the Great Water and there are as many as shoots of grass on the prairie. The day is coming soon when it will not be possible to avoid them. Look what has happened to brother beaver. When the white eyes first came to our country we tried to befriend them and they were treacherous and proved untrustworthy. They have done little but rob and cheat us ever since. It is more than our land; it is for our principles, our way of life and the honor of our sacred ancestors that we must fight. The white eyes will someday fill our hunting grounds and drive away the game with their animals and farms if we let them. They talk of sharing but intend to have it all. We must fight or risk losing our self-respect as well as our future. It has become a matter of pride as well as survival that we resist. "
The young warriors vocalized their exuberant approval of his impassioned speech.
When they had settled down, it was Chief Gray Eagle, the eldest of the leaders, who spoke. " I admire your spirit, Red Fox. If I were your age I would agree with you. "
Several of the older men chuckled at this statement.
" But one of the reasons I sit before you still breathing is because there were some patient old chiefs around when I was younger to keep me from doing something rash or foolish. The breath of an old man is worthless unless it bears words of wisdom. Let me ask you this one question. If the white eyes are as many as blades of grass on the prairie, how do you plan to stop them? "
The young brave was prepared. " They are weak and the spirits do not stand by those without honor. They are shackled to their farms and their forts whereas we are free to move where they are lost. “
" They have many guns, " Bending Willow said. " It does not take much strength or honor to pull a trigger or an expert tracker to find a whole village. There is no question which side is the bravest or most honorable. But it is one thing to sacrifice oneself and quite another to sacrifice the women and the little ones of the tribe. For the good of all, sometimes a man must look beyond his own passions. Yes, there is honor in dying but no more so than in living to fight again. Your own parents have made such compromises in order for you to be standing there. Look around you. Would you see these little children starve, or worse? In my opinion, the white eyes bullets are a greater threat to our survival as a people than this attack on our way of life of which you speak. We all agree that there is no living with the white eyes. Most of them have no spirits at all and that is why we have always chosen to avoid them. "
" They have come to take it all Grandfather and they use every means to do so. Bullets or treaties, it makes no difference, they mean to destroy us. If we don't deal with it, these children will have to. It is our duty to our people past and future to do what we can to preserve what we need to go on as a people. Without our hunting grounds, we are lost. The greed of the white eyes knows no bounds. They mean to have our lives and then our land. That is their goal. It seems cowardly and unwise to be pushed farther and farther away from what is rightfully ours. We must fight while we still have the strength or they will drive us into the sea. "
The council reverberated with the cheers of the younger men and many of the elders, as well; for the young brave's fervent eloquence personified their tribal spirit and instilled them all with pride. He spoke with the voice of a future leader.
Unable to contain himself any longer, Sun Stalker stood and said, " I would like to speak Grandfather. "
Gray Eagle held the council lance up and shook it twice. A salute of honor to a proven warrior. " You may speak, Sun Stalker. "
The council grew attentive, all eyes turned to Sun Stalker, for he rarely spoke at a council meeting.
Sun Stalker’s bearing emanated pride and self-respect. His eyes swept the gathering with love and understanding. He was tall compared to men of his tribe, lighter skinned than most and sinewy and lean as a coyote. The gentleness of his voice belied the reputation he carried into battle. His hair was woven with eagle feathers -medals of valor and victory. Around his neck hung a necklace of bear claws and a talisman give him by his uncle, a former shaman of the tribe. His doeskin shirt was painted with symbols, some of which only he understood, representing his travels on earth and his experiences in the spirit world. He did not speak that often and when he did others tended to listen.
Change is the stuff prophecy is made of, " he began. " Change is always happening - the sun, the moon, the seasons, the cycles of the Mother. It never stops. Change is life, my friends, and pursues us beyond death. What is happening to us, to our people, to all red men is all part of the plan of Man Above. It is senseless to fight it. Too many have died already. We must learn to flow with this great tide of change like canoes on a river. Use the current of change to our advantage, or there will be no braves left to fight, no mothers to bear children. Then we are surely finished as a people. I have traveled far and wide and, as you know, even went to the white eyes' school for a while as a boy. I can speak their tongue. I have lived with the black robes and sung the songs and spoken the spells of the tortured one and I am convinced we must learn to use the white eyes' weapons against them. "
" That's just what we have been doing, " Big Belly interrupted. " We brought back many rifles
just two moons ago. "
" I am not talking about guns, " Sun Stalker said. " I am talking about words. They have done far more damage to us with their words. We must learn to use their words to our advantage, as our weapons. Our hope is in outsmarting them, which is exactly what we must do on the battlefield. It is simply foolish to fight a losing battle against overwhelming odds when the end result is the death of our people, no matter how badly our pride is damaged. Yes, we must fight and avenge the blood but we must change our methods of fighting if we are to win. This is the challenge of our generation. Change demands this and we must grow with this change or perish. Within their words is hidden the secret white eyes law. Herein lies the power and the future of our people. "
" But the white eyes words can not be trusted, " Running Fox said.
" You can not change the stripes of a skunk, " Big Belly grumbled.
" Does one shoot skunks in his own village? “ Sun Stalker countered. ” Consider this. “ The white eyes have a system of laws that are written down, " he explained patiently. " All of the white eyes must obey these laws, under threat of punishment. Once it is written down it becomes law. For example, if a white eyes sells a horse he is given a piece of paper saying the horse is his and both parties put their mark on it. Then there is no getting out of it. The white eyes law judges will not allow it. A thief is thereby brought to justice before the council. The same is done for land and all ownership. Our own ignorance is what will be our undoing. We must learn to make treaties that are to our advantage. "
" It would seem to me, " Bending Willow said, " that the laws of liars would be about as useful as their treaties. Their judges would find a way to cheat us.”
“ It is our freedom and our red skin they hate. They would only find a way to use their laws to trick us again, “ Running Fox said.
" Not if we are citizens, members of their tribe. “ Sun Stalker said. “ Then we have rights. We are protected from such trickery. As crazy as the white eyes are, they are very organized and take all this very seriously. They hold these laws sacred. There are citizens of all colors. The white eyes themselves are from many tribes and speak many different tongues. They have a system for dealing with tribal differences and injustice. That is why there are so many of them, because they have united as one people. Just think of the power that we would have if all red men were one tribe and fought together for the same things. "
" This is the talk of dreamers, " Big Belly said with a scowl. " There is no such thing as 'all red men'. We are as different from the Klamaths as a hawk from a snake. We must protect what is ours and avenge blood already shed. The hair faces understand rifles and bullets and they infest our sacred land like maggots. They are no match for us and never will be. We must kill them all! "
The vocal affirmation he had expected from his fellow warriors was neither immediately forthcoming nor as warm as before. Sun Stalker had their attention.
" Humph, " Hard Wind, a respected warrior, scoffed, " if they weren't such liars in the first place, they would not need all these laws and judges. "
A chunter of agreement rippled through the tribe.
" But we know nothing of the white eyes' laws, " Bending Willow said.
" We would be like children, braves who do not know how to use a bow. We have no understanding of these things. "
" We can learn these laws, " Sun Stalker said.
" This is foolish talk, " Big Belly said. " While we are learning these laws,
they will kill us in our blankets. Men do not fight for words. They fight for blood. "
To this statement the young braves responded loudly, howling their war chants.
When the outburst died down, Sun Stalker said, " From the reaction, it would appear that men are more than ready to fight for words. “ He paused until he had their attention again. “ The white man owns all the guns and bullets. We must face the fact that in all out war we are outnumbered and mismatched. Yes, we can fight to the end and die if we must, but for what? That path leads only to destruction for our people. I have had a vision. I will go and learn the white man's laws. However long it takes. I have seen that this is the only real hope for our people. "
A respectful silence descended on the tribesmen. To make such a vow before the council and the whole tribe was not to be taken lightly. It was a promise written in blood.
Bending Willow sagely offered Sun Stalker a way out of his brash pledge. " We will consider what has been said here and give our dreams a chance to do their part before any decisions are made. Tomorrow we will continue. " That said, he pounded the council lance on the ground three times. The council was adjourned.
Sun Stalker, however, was accustomed
to keeping his own council. He had already done his dreaming and his course was
clear to him. He meant what he said. He would learn to beat the white men at
their own game – the magic of written words and the laws they compose.