Saturday, November 18, 2006
THE BRAVEST INDIANS ON THE PLAINS
From “We Pointed Them North: Recollections of a Cowpuncher”
By E.C. Abbott (“Teddy Blue” Abbott) and Helena Huntington Smith
1939 Farrar and Rinehart, Inc. New York Chapter XVI
“THE BRAVEST INDIANS ON THE PLAINS”
“Most of the Indian tribes was doing a regular business of that kind with the white men and some of them, especially the Crows and Sioux, had got so low they would offer you their wives. But the way they did it in most of the
camps, that they had special tepees for the purpose, and certain squaws that was just like sporting women among the whites. Only among the Indians it never seemed to hurt their chances of marrying afterwards.
The Gros Ventres, Crows and Sioux, and I think the Blackfeet were all doing this kind of business,. But never the Northern Cheyennes, nor the Pawnees down in Nebraska. You couldn’t touch one of their women uinless you married her with a priest.
I tried hard to get a Cheyenne girl once, but she wouldn’t even marry me. She was one of a big band of Cheyennes that was camped all over our range, from Armell’s Creek to the Rosebud, in 1883. There was two lodges of them that came down to the FUF ranch, and I told the old man it was a good idea to treat them well and give them a little grub once in a while, tea and coffee and sugar. They didn’t have any too much of it.
For these wee the Indians that put up that great fight in ‘78, when they broke out of the reservation down in Indian Territory where they had been sent for punishment after the Custer Battle in ‘76. They broke out under Dull Knife and Little Wolf, and they fought their way clear up from Indian territory to Tongue River in Montana, because they was dying like flies down there, dying for home. There was three hundred Indians, and less than a hundred of them was warriors, the rest women and old men and children. And with thirteen thousand troops out against them they fought their way across three railroads and five lines of defense, and they whipped everthing they come to. And, by God, half of them made it up here to Montana, and for a wonder they was allowed to stay. I tell you they were the bravest Indians on the Plains -- the Northern Cheyennes.
This girl I speak of was in one of their tepees that came down and camped at the ranch, and oh, but she was a good looking girl. It wasn’t easy to see much of her. She was very modest. You had to hunt her. But she did come to the ranch house once or twice for dinner, with the rest of them. You see, we put on kind of a party for them, cooked up some plum duff and so on; because two or three of us in the outfit was n Nebraska when they come through there like a prairies fire in ‘78, and we knew these Indians, what they were. We ought to know. They killed eighteen cowboys down there when they was making the break for home. They come pretty near to getting me, too, but if I’d been in their place, I’d have done the same.
One of the lodges that was camped on Armall’s Creek belonged to an Indian named High Walking. He was one of the government’s Cheyennes that were scouts with Miles during the Nez Perce campaign.-- because a lot of those Indians would fight with the government against their old enemies -- and he could talk pretty good English. I used to sit and visit wuith him nights, in the tepee. You hear talk about Indians being dirty, and a lot of them are today,so it makes you sick sometimes to see them. But these modern reservation Indians are entirely different. Mrs. HighWalking kept her lodge as neat and clean as any white woman I ever knew kept her house, and their kid was dressed like a little warrior. She was a manager, too. The Indians loved coffee, and they had very little of it, and I have seen Mrs. High Walking take six beans of coffee and pound it up for her and her husband.
The girl would be in the tepee nights, with the rest of them. I never had much chance to talk to her. She would just sit there with her head down and wouldn’t say nothing. She didn’t have to. You knew all you needed to know, just looking at her. I did try to make up to her a couple of times, p 147 but she give me to understand she didn’t want a damned thing to do with me. She seemed a little bit freer when the men were not around. I think she was afraid of them. The Cheyennes were very strict with their women.They were one of the Indian tribes that would cut off a wife’s nose if she was unfaithful, and I have seen them that way around the camps,, with the tips of their noses sliced off. It was an awful thing to see.
I wanted this girl so much I asked her if she’d marry me, but she wouldn’t do that, either. I asked her through old High Walking, and as I told him, “She’s good enough for me.”
Well, she was, or that was the way I felt about it at the time. And I wasn’t the only one in a long way, because there was plenty of cowpunchers in the old days who were not ashamed to marry an Indian girl. You couldn’t blame us. We were starving for the sight of a womn, and some of these young squaws were awful good looking, with their fringed dresses of soft deer or antelope skin that hung just below their knees -- that was all they wore, just the dress -- and their beaded leggings and wide beaded belts. Oh, boy, but they looked good to us. But I was always that way. I always wanted a dark-eyed woman.
There is one thing more I want to say about these mixed marriages. that used to take place in the early days. Those Indian women made wonderful wivres. The greatest attraction of a woman, to an Indian, was obedience. They were taught that, and they inherited it. Their husband’s will was their law. Every white man I ever knew that was married to an Indian --like Granville Stuart -- thought the world of them.
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By E.C. Abbott (“Teddy Blue” Abbott) and Helena Huntington Smith
1939 Farrar and Rinehart, Inc. New York Chapter XVI
“THE BRAVEST INDIANS ON THE PLAINS”
“Most of the Indian tribes was doing a regular business of that kind with the white men and some of them, especially the Crows and Sioux, had got so low they would offer you their wives. But the way they did it in most of the
camps, that they had special tepees for the purpose, and certain squaws that was just like sporting women among the whites. Only among the Indians it never seemed to hurt their chances of marrying afterwards.
The Gros Ventres, Crows and Sioux, and I think the Blackfeet were all doing this kind of business,. But never the Northern Cheyennes, nor the Pawnees down in Nebraska. You couldn’t touch one of their women uinless you married her with a priest.
I tried hard to get a Cheyenne girl once, but she wouldn’t even marry me. She was one of a big band of Cheyennes that was camped all over our range, from Armell’s Creek to the Rosebud, in 1883. There was two lodges of them that came down to the FUF ranch, and I told the old man it was a good idea to treat them well and give them a little grub once in a while, tea and coffee and sugar. They didn’t have any too much of it.
For these wee the Indians that put up that great fight in ‘78, when they broke out of the reservation down in Indian Territory where they had been sent for punishment after the Custer Battle in ‘76. They broke out under Dull Knife and Little Wolf, and they fought their way clear up from Indian territory to Tongue River in Montana, because they was dying like flies down there, dying for home. There was three hundred Indians, and less than a hundred of them was warriors, the rest women and old men and children. And with thirteen thousand troops out against them they fought their way across three railroads and five lines of defense, and they whipped everthing they come to. And, by God, half of them made it up here to Montana, and for a wonder they was allowed to stay. I tell you they were the bravest Indians on the Plains -- the Northern Cheyennes.
This girl I speak of was in one of their tepees that came down and camped at the ranch, and oh, but she was a good looking girl. It wasn’t easy to see much of her. She was very modest. You had to hunt her. But she did come to the ranch house once or twice for dinner, with the rest of them. You see, we put on kind of a party for them, cooked up some plum duff and so on; because two or three of us in the outfit was n Nebraska when they come through there like a prairies fire in ‘78, and we knew these Indians, what they were. We ought to know. They killed eighteen cowboys down there when they was making the break for home. They come pretty near to getting me, too, but if I’d been in their place, I’d have done the same.
One of the lodges that was camped on Armall’s Creek belonged to an Indian named High Walking. He was one of the government’s Cheyennes that were scouts with Miles during the Nez Perce campaign.-- because a lot of those Indians would fight with the government against their old enemies -- and he could talk pretty good English. I used to sit and visit wuith him nights, in the tepee. You hear talk about Indians being dirty, and a lot of them are today,so it makes you sick sometimes to see them. But these modern reservation Indians are entirely different. Mrs. HighWalking kept her lodge as neat and clean as any white woman I ever knew kept her house, and their kid was dressed like a little warrior. She was a manager, too. The Indians loved coffee, and they had very little of it, and I have seen Mrs. High Walking take six beans of coffee and pound it up for her and her husband.
The girl would be in the tepee nights, with the rest of them. I never had much chance to talk to her. She would just sit there with her head down and wouldn’t say nothing. She didn’t have to. You knew all you needed to know, just looking at her. I did try to make up to her a couple of times, p 147 but she give me to understand she didn’t want a damned thing to do with me. She seemed a little bit freer when the men were not around. I think she was afraid of them. The Cheyennes were very strict with their women.They were one of the Indian tribes that would cut off a wife’s nose if she was unfaithful, and I have seen them that way around the camps,, with the tips of their noses sliced off. It was an awful thing to see.
I wanted this girl so much I asked her if she’d marry me, but she wouldn’t do that, either. I asked her through old High Walking, and as I told him, “She’s good enough for me.”
Well, she was, or that was the way I felt about it at the time. And I wasn’t the only one in a long way, because there was plenty of cowpunchers in the old days who were not ashamed to marry an Indian girl. You couldn’t blame us. We were starving for the sight of a womn, and some of these young squaws were awful good looking, with their fringed dresses of soft deer or antelope skin that hung just below their knees -- that was all they wore, just the dress -- and their beaded leggings and wide beaded belts. Oh, boy, but they looked good to us. But I was always that way. I always wanted a dark-eyed woman.
There is one thing more I want to say about these mixed marriages. that used to take place in the early days. Those Indian women made wonderful wivres. The greatest attraction of a woman, to an Indian, was obedience. They were taught that, and they inherited it. Their husband’s will was their law. Every white man I ever knew that was married to an Indian --like Granville Stuart -- thought the world of them.
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