Wili

Health news from the East was not good. It seemed to be the worst influenza epidemic in thirty years. John Reid worried for his Indians. They had followed Abraham's advice and stayed away from Denver but Broken Bough and a group of boys had come in contact with some troopers. Some, particularly that German boy, Siegfried Martyn, had just recently come from the East. But then, perhaps it wasn't that dangerous. From what he had heard, Martyn touched only Wili and Wili probably had developed an immunity that the Indians did not have.

John liked to think that he was not really a worrier. One could say, however, that he was prone to deep concern. He had learned that even if one had a "promising" future as everyone thought John to have when he was nine, one never knows just what that promise might turn out to be. He had not expected the kind of "promises" he'd gotten but he could deal with them for himself. He just didn't want things to work out for his Indian friends as they had for Paddy. He had seen a great deal of "promise" in Paddy but that promise turned out to be not a happy one. He was sad when he thought of Paddy. He was sad but Paddy was dead. Paddy didn't even have the opportunity to be sad. Just as he had with Paddy, John saw such promise in the clan. John convinced himself that he had not let the vicissitudes of life make him a worrier - just one who had learned to be concerned over the nature of "promises."

Abraham Fox was a very good, highly respected friend and while he was fond of all the children of the White Buffalo Calf Clan, he loved Wili. He was proud of the Clan. They had made a wise choice and were working hard at adapting. John had gone out on the proverbial limb for them and they were proving him right. John's friends in Washington who had pulled the political strings for him were pleased with the results of John's "experiment." Abraham Fox would become a very wealthy man. John was sure of that. Most of the others in the Clan had taken up ranching and their collective herd was now at least a thousand head. They would make it. They would blend in. Perhaps if it were ten years in the future, an influenza epidemic would not concern John. But, right now, his friends in the clan were too vulnerable to be exposed.

The oldest daughter of John Hawk had married the son of a white rancher and moved just over the Colorado line to live on his father's ranch. In a way, it was sad. This clan of Arapaho was a proud people with a proud culture. That soon would be lost as they blended into the predominate culture. But it was inevitable - sad but inevitable. The traditional Arapaho way of life would be lost - either to reservation life or by being absorbed. John much preferred that his friends be among the latter.

The cattle, except for Abraham's, actually belonged to John. John knew within months that dirt farming in this area was folly. There was fair annual rainfall but the soil was not fertile enough to support Pennsylvania type farming. The science of Agriculture was not yet highly developed. Things had to be learned by trial and error. The farming experience was not a failure. It was a lesson.

A colony of Russian Mennonites in central Kansas was having some success with winter wheat and John encouraged the clan to try a little of that next fall. Actually, the Mennonites were of German ancestry and had moved to the Ukraine to avoid religious persecution in the 1600s. Winter wheat did well in the Ukraine and the Mennonites were skilled farmers. Winter wheat planted in the fall lay dormant during the winter and sprouted in the spring. The Mennonites were doing well with it. Central Kansas got a little more rain than western Kansas but it was worth a try. The clan would just have to wait until next July to see if wheat did well here.

Western Kansas grass had served the buffalo well for perhaps thousands of years so it would surely serve cattle well. John bought as many "feeder" calves as he could - some from as far away as Texas. Since John's dirt farming suggestion had not proven successful, he felt it his responsibility to help the clan head in a different agricultural direction. The cattle were distributed according to the desires of each clan member who wished to be involved. John would receive the value of one quarter of the market value of the calves born each spring until he had been repaid. He did not charge interest and he had hired a retired rancher, Cyrus Newfield, from Goodland to advise the new ranchers and to oversee the marketing. A white man was a necessity for the marketing. The Indians would have been cheated and were they to have complained, the buyers would have screamed, "Indian harassment." This was a very delicate situation and the bigots would use any means, fair or devious to get the White Buffalo Calf Clan out of Kansas. For the present, avoiding conflict had to be the strategy.

The conditions for street children in New York City had not changed. By 1874 it was as bad or worse than it had been for Paddy. Homeless children roamed New York's streets by the thousands. They were condescendingly referred to as Street Arabs. Some groups made token efforts but really little concern was wasted on these throwaway children. When religious groups did get involved, they expended most of their efforts fighting among themselves - accusing each other of using the facade of charity to proselytize. Jews were concerned that Catholics had some of their children. Catholics were sure that Protestants had theirs and there were even heinous rumors that Jews butchered and ate Christian children.

In 1853, The Reverend Charles Loring Brace became aware of the situation and was appalled. The thought of homeless and neglected children on the streets was horrible enough but children manipulated as vehicles for hate was, to him, untenable. He organized the Children's' Aid Society. "The great duty," he wrote, "is to get them utterly out of their surroundings and to send them away to kind Christian homes in the country." ¹

It was a compassionate but ill-conceived concept. Some children found good homes, many were seen only as servants and some were severely abused. But the "Orphan Trains" would continue to run from 1853 to well into the twentieth century. John Reid and Elmer Murdock, Sheriff of Arapaho County, were not completely opposed to the idea but were not at all happy that a train full of children from the New York streets would be arriving in Denver in the midst of a major flu epidemic. If anyone could be a carrier of that disease, it could certainly be a child from the filth of New York streets and ghettos.

Medicine in 1874 was not an exact science but after checking with several local doctors and having wired doctors in New York, Elmer Murdock was satisfied that if there were no active cases among the children when the train arrived in Denver, there was probably no danger. The doctors seemed to agree that the illness became evident within one to three days of exposure. Since, with their various stops, it would have taken the train two weeks to arrive in Denver, if there had been active flu on the train, it would have run its course. Elmer agreed to allow the "showing" and "adoption" of the children.

What the misguided Reverend in New York intended to be an act of charity was, in fact, a traumatizing circus for the children. Perhaps with so few options for the care of these children it was chartable but try to imagine a five or seven or eleven year old, paraded like livestock in front of gawking spectators, most of whom came for the show, for cheap help but certainly not for compassion. Some came out of concern for the children but John Reid thought the whole idea appalling - too reminiscent of a cattle auction.

Depending on the timidity or the bravado of the child there were pathetic tears or brash strutting. But, whatever the behavior it masked a deep anxious fear. The children were jeered, laughed at and heckled. They were poked and prodded ostensibly to determine the musculature of the child. Their mouths probed by filthy hands, teeth inspected and ears pulled and peered into. Their hair was gone through for lice, their clothing pulled away to check for rashes, impetigo, ring worm any skin imperfection - or perhaps for some more sinister reason. All of this was done before the ogling assemblage. It had to be devastating for a little child and it made John Reid sick. John went to the showing because he had to see for himself if this travesty were as awful as he thought it to be. It was.

John turned to leave when he caught sight of him. The boy, slight and tearful had just been lifted onto the wagon that served as the stage. John's breath caught. He wavered as if he might swoon. His eyes glazed over as if he were in a trance. He composed himself and his eyes filled with tears. He leapt onto the wagon and scooped the little red haired, freckled face boy into his arms.

John sudden action threw the boy almost into hysterics. John spoke soothingly to the boy as he made his way away from the crowd. His mind knew that he wasn't but his heart told him that he was once again holding Paddy in his arms. John knew nothing about this boy but he loved him. If he had ever known anything in his life, he knew that he loved this boy. There would be time to concern himself with the details of the boy and his care later. Right now, he had to comfort and love him.

John stood away from the crowd in the shadow of the church, cuddled the almost emaciated body and kissed the pale, pallid face. "Sorry, boy, I didn't mean to frighten you."

The pitiful sobs and the terrified countenance were suddenly replaced by a shocked, questioning visage. Caresses, kisses and gentle words were foreign to the boy. He was used to curses and kicks. When he was able to clear his eyes of tears, he saw tenderness. He saw a smile.

"Feel better?"

A nod.

"I was a little quick, wasn't I? I'm sorry but I had to get you before someone else did."

A touch of fear rushed through the boy. Why did the man have to get him? What had he done? The only people who had ever wanted to get him were people who he had in some way offended. All street children were considered thieves or worse and their very presence was an offence to "decent" people. When someone had wanted to get him in New York, it was to hurt him in some way. It was beyond his comprehension that anyone would want to get him for just him.

"My name's John. Can you tell me your name?

Almost in a whisper, "Declan."

"Declan, you don't know me but I feel that I know you very well. If you will agree to live with me, I'll tell you about that. Will you live with me?"

Declan wondered why John was asking. He had been told that whoever wanted him could take him. Of course he would live with John. What choice did he have?

"I gotta."

"You have to what?"

"I gotta live with you."

"No, you don't have to. I want you to but you don't have to. Declan, I want very much for you to live with me but I want you to want to live with me. Why do you say you gotta?"

"The lady on the train said I gotta go with who takes me."

John stood the boy on his feet. For the first time Declan got a good look at John. He saw the uniform. If it were possible, the boy turned even more pale. He again started to cry. "I didn't do nothin'. I didn't steal nothin'."

John stooped and again picked up the boy. "Of course you didn't. Why are you so afraid?"

"You're a copper."

John was puzzled. Declan wept harder and pitifully continued to protest his innocence. Finally, it occurred to John. It was his uniform. He again stood the boy on his feet. "Look at me. This is an army uniform. I'm not a policeman. I'm a soldier."

Declan did not know the word, policeman. Irish New York Street kids referred to the police with the English slang word taken from the metal used for the buttons on a British Bobby's uniform.

"You're not a copper?"

"No, I'm a soldier. Do you know what a soldier is?"

"They fight the rebs?"

"Yes, we used to do that. Now we protect people. I would like you to live with me so that I can protect you. Do you know what protect means?"

"No."

"I want to take care of you."

"Take care of me?"

"I want to give you a good place to sleep. I want to give you good food and nice, warm clothing."

"Why?"

John didn't want to tell Declan about Paddy now. He didn't want the boy to think that he was just a stand-in for Paddy. He wasn't a stand-in for Paddy but he was a child for whom John could do what he could not do for Paddy. He was a child that John knew that he could not lose. He had lost too much. He had built a good life but it was almost a loveless life. Yes, he loved Johnny and yes, he still loved Dora. He had learned to love Wili but he needed someone to love him back. He knew that Wili liked him but John wanted to be loved as Abe and Fern were loved. There was almost desperation in John's voice when he pleaded, "Please say you want to live with me."

"Do I gotta scoop pig shit?"

"No. Why do you think that?"

"The big boys on the train said that's why they were taking us west."

"Those boys don't know what they were talking about. I don't have pigs but I will get...."

No, John wouldn't do that. He wouldn't bribe the boy. He would get the boy a dog and a horse and many other things but he must not tell him that now. He knew that he could just demand that Declan go with him but it was important that Declan say that he wanted to go with John.

"Declan, it is hard for me to tell you why I want you to live with me. I want you for reasons that you will only understand after you've lived with me for a while. It will be hard for you to understand something you've never had. I want to love you and I want you to love me. Do you know what that means?"

A bewildered look.

"Do you love your mama?"

"Me Mum died."

"Did you love your Mum?"

There was a blank, unknowing expression on that little freckled face.

"Did you like your Mum?"

A kind of sad smile. "I liked her a lot."

"That's what I want. I want to like you a lot and I want you to like me a lot."

Declan wasn't sure about everything John had said. He used words that Declan had never heard before, like understand. But Declan also felt something like he felt for his Mum. The boy stood thinking and then nodded.

"I want you to say it. I want you to say, 'I want to live with you.'"

Declan realized that he did want to live with this man so he said it. "I want to live with you."

John picked up the boy and swung him around. He laughed and pulled the boy to him and kissed his pale little cheek. And for the first time John heard the melodious lilt of Declan's laughter.

It had been a long time since John had been this happy but he was also disgusted. It just took his signature on a line beside, "Declan - NSN - age 9" and the boy was his. There had to be a better way to see to the welfare of homeless children.

Wili was sweaty, dirty and bloody. He'd spent the day finding and notching calves' ears. He was good at it. His Papa said that Wili could make the Fox notch better than he could. Wili liked working with his Papa but he had spent the day thinking of the Big Sandy, of making fish traps and jerky. Wili hardly ever thought of New Bedford. He thought of his first mama and papa and sometimes he would think about Vaasco but New Bedford held no charm for him. This was the life he loved. True, he would love it better right now if he were splashing in the creek but Wili loved what he was. It amazed him that he had ever thought himself happy in New Bedford. How could anyone be happy away from mother earth, from the warm sun and to cool evening breeze of the prairie? Tired as he was, he couldn't wait to get back to the village, get rid of his britches and run and run and run and then, flop into the creek. Wili loved being an Indian.

But some things were changing. Some of the clan were moving their cabins closer to their herds. Some moved north and some south. Wili still became a little angry that they couldn't go near the Republican River. That was Indian land but the Colonel and his Papa said stay away so Wili stayed away. It was sad to see things changing but Billy Hawk and Buck Schwartz and, of course, Paul Mann and Echo were still in the village so there were at least some boys to play with. There weren't enough any more to get up a good lacrosse game but - what could they do? Things change.

The soldier school teacher had, as did most young people in that era, only completed the eighth grade. Wili and, by now, a few other children including Billy Hawk and Lark and Sally Mann were overtaking the boy's knowledge. Anyway, school teaching was not his idea of being a soldier. He asked the Colonel to be assigned other duty. Two Larks' English name, Sally, by-the-way, was another Wili invention. The German word for two is zwie, pronounced with a beginning "s" sound. The "s" sound reminded Wili of a girl in his class in New Bedford named Sally so Two Larks became Sally.

John found that among his men, only Siegfried Martyn had completed secondary school. Of course, his schooling had been in Germany but the boy, having studied English and having an academically inclined, stern German father, had an excellent grasp of the language. Siegfried was delighted with his assignment as teacher in the village. He was also delighted that his new assignment had healed his relationship with his father. The professor now saw his son as a "missionary" of sorts - bringing education to the primitives in the western hinterlands.

Kansas winters can be cold, much colder than the sea tempered New Bedford weather. Some of the clan families had moved as much as twenty miles from the village so their school age children stayed with friends or relatives in the village during the week. If the weather permitted, they went home Saturday and Sunday. To most of the clan, it was silly to waste two days. To them every day was the same but this was another of the peculiar ways of the whites. Why have a school and leave it empty two days. Of course, the man in the tall black hat came about once a month and talked about this Jesus. Some of the clan said that they understood Jesus and were now Christians. That was all right with the rest of the clan. They were just the same except they prayed to Jesus and didn't attend the spirit dances anymore. But most of the clan still thought that Jesus must be a very weak chief since most "Christians" didn't do what the man in the tall hat said that Jesus wanted them to do.

Winter was fun for Wili. They had snow in New Bedford but nothing like this. A favorite game was Fox and Geese.²Wili loved that game because you ran a lot. Even with heavy winter clothes, running was fun. In fact, for Wili it was a necessity. Perhaps there was still some trauma he was subconsciously dealing with or perhaps it was the lingering memory of his infantile joy but Wili had to run.

John Reid had brought a sled out from Denver. It was John's birthday gift for Wili. Wili had forgotten all about his birthday. Actually, Wili had no idea what date it was on any given day. Days in the clan were not important. Time was reckoned by seasons. Although Wili had turned eleven on November 27th, the sled didn't get there until the middle of February. It was a birthday present from Germany that had made John aware of Wili's birthday. His grandparents had sent a tin of German candy and cookies -<,> something that would ship well and something that excited and was deeply enjoyed by the children of the clan. Clan children knew about candy but not that kind of candy and cookies were completely new to them.

The gift from his grandparents did uncover a major flaw in Wili's unique multicultural life. He spoke fluent English and German. He was more than adequate in Portuguese and Arapaho, but he had never learned to read German. He had to ask Siegfried to read his grandparents' greeting to him. Siegfried saw his duty. He would teach Wili to read his mother tongue.

John had not brought Declan with him. Declan was doing well, filling out and looking almost like a normal, well cared for nine year old should. Actually, neither John nor Declan were sure that nine was the correct age. The lady who had "checked" him onto the train had just guessed. When Declan had told her that he did not know his age, she looked him over and wrote, "9." So, if Declan were actually older, he was still rather frail and John would not take the chance with the boy's health by taking him on a long, very cold winter trip.

John said nothing of Declan to his Indian friends. He had grown to deeply love the boy and Declan had quickly learned to reciprocate. As was any "new" father, John was proud of his boy and wanted his d‚but to be a surprise. He wanted them to see how wonderful the boy was. Declan's sterling attributes had to be seen. They could not be adequately described. He'd bring his boy when he came in the spring.

It had not all been easy. There were several adjustments Declan was having to make in his transition from waif to proper young man. John was in no way permissive but he was kind in his correction. Kindness, however, did not always matter. There was no doubt that Declan had grown to love and trust his Pa but there was also no doubt that he was a red-headed Irishman. The boy had the storied Irish temper. He was quick to lose it but also quick to compose himself and, although John tried hard not to show it, he thought Declan's mini outbursts to be rather funny and cute but then, everything about his boy was cute.

The sled added greatly to the winter fun. Wili's papa, however, had to set down some rules for its use. Wili had fastened a rope to it and tied the other end to the pummel of his saddle. Indian boys had known for generations that galloping through the snow was great fun but riding a sled behind a galloping horse was euphoric. The problem was that when you turned the horse abruptly, if would fling the sled like the last person in line when they played crack the whip. But the speed of the horse made the velocity of the fling dramatically greater. It was great fun to be thrown from the sled and to go skidding across the snow - fun, that is, until Echo hit the creek bank at a speed somewhere near that of sound. No broken bones but a badly wrenched back and a stern dictate that a horse was no longer to be hitched to the sled. Echo got over his sore back but the boys never got over what was, from their point of view, the highly unreasonable rule.

For most of the children in the clan, winter clothes now came from a store in Goodland or Denver. Broken Bough still had deer skin or buffalo skin clothing and he slept under buffalo robes but those traditional items were no longer easily accessible. From some distance, the children of the clan at recess might have been a group of children in Cleveland or Chicago or Boston. Broken Bough would look at them and just shake his head.

Broken Bough did not disapprove of the school, however. He felt a part of it and he felt he was doing something valuable. Siegfried had him come to the school every Friday afternoon and hold forth on White Buffalo Calf Clan history, culture, tell "campfire" stories and just generally sustain the Indian tradition of oral history.

Keechee was the member of the clan who became deeply concerned about all the changes. With several members of the clan living away from the village and several who now called themselves Christian, attendance at his spirit dances had fallen off drastically as had the contributions which, along with his government stipend, had made him second only to Abraham in wealth in the clan. He would go to the homes of those who had moved away, but they were not interested. They had not all become Christians but, not having that group feeling of living together, they saw the clan traditions as too much a part of the old ways. They now could control their means of sustenance. There were doctors available. They were no longer completely dependent on the whims of mother earth so pleading with the spirits for rain, the health of a loved one, success in the hunt, the placing of a curse on some enemy - all of these seemed to be too old-ways and irrelevant.

Keechee took a kind of if you can't beat them, join them position. He shocked the people of the Methodist and Baptist churches in the Goodland area by showing up on successive Sunday mornings. He did not succumb to the admonishments of the Baptists to become born again and he did not find in either church what he was looking for.

The fear of the flu epidemic was past so Keechee went to Denver. There he found what he was looking for. It was the liturgy of the Catholic Church. While he never was confirmed, he called himself Catholic but it was actually a kind of business strategy. He began to incorporate some of what he's seen in the Catholic Mass into his spirit dances. It did get a few more people but not enough to restore his former income and the initial curiosity of the new spirit dances lost its appeal. His crowds dwindled to almost nothing. Only Broken Bough attended most dances. Keechee finally took a job at Paul Mann's newly opened general store. Occasionally some "Christian" still suspicious enough would ask for some spirit intervention but it was clear to Keechee that the medicine man business was a dying profession. He kept his job with Paul.

John Reid had worked hard to convince Washington to provide the same stipend per clan Indian that was provided to each reservation Indian. He got it and it was the financial bridge which carried the clan from subsistence living to capitalism. It was primitive capitalism but it was working and slowly over the next several years, clan members, of their own volition, refused the stipend as their ranching or other business venture made them self-sufficient. There was still some residual resentment of the white man and the fact that, in spite of what the white man had done to them, they no longer needed him was a matter of deep pride. By the time Wili had become his son, Abraham had not taken the stipend for a year.

School would continue in a somewhat informal way throughout the entire year but it was suspended in April. The boys were needed to help with the spring roundup. There was no sense in having school just for the girls. They'd have to go over that same material when the boys again came to school. Anyway, there were spring chores for the girls. By middle May there were gardens to plant and tended. There were new summer clothes to sew and there were the usual menial camp responsibilities: fetching water, gathering dry cow chips, etc., that were the responsibility of boys when they were not with their fathers helping round up cattle.

He was eleven now and it was probably his sore bottom from long days in the saddle and sore limbs from jumping on and off his horse or wrestling calves so that he could mark their ears that gave Wili his first glimmer of doubt about the perfection of the Indian life. He still loved his life but his bottom had never been this sore and his legs and back never ached this much in New Bedford. But, he was, after all, eleven - no longer a child. He was doing man's work and his Papa was treating him even more as an equal and even with an aching back and sore behind, he had no doubt that the Kansas prairie was where he wanted to be.

It had been a good winter for calving. The hay that had been made last summer had seen the cattle through the winter and early indications were that they had lost few, if any cattle to the cold. The men in the north thought their herds should have been some larger and there was almost certainty that Rub Miderding and perhaps some of his neighbors were helping themselves to Arapaho cattle. It was true but it was not straight out rustling. It was an attempt to create an incident, an incident that would provoke conflict -<,> a conflict that the bigots thought would result in the removal of the Indians and the opening of the land south of the Republican to open grazing.

When the posted signs appeared every half mile along the south bank of the Republican, Rub and his cohorts thought they had their conflict. The Indians had no right to post government land. They knew that it would do no good to complain to John Reid in Denver. Anyway, Fort Hays was closer. They were smug and optimistic when they rode into the fort. They were defeated and furious when they rode out. All the land between the Republican and the Big Sandy west of Goodland was now private property. It had been purchased by Colonel John Reid for twenty-two cents an acre.

___________
¹http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/amex/orphan/

² Fox and Geese - This game is played after a snowfall. First the snow is tramped down in paths to make a big wheel with spokes and a hub in the center. One player is the Fox and the rest are the Geese. The Fox tries to catch a Goose (who then becomes the next Fox). Players must stay inside the paths. If a Goose steps off the path, that Goose is caught. The only safe place for a Goose is in the center (hub). But only one Goose is allowed to be in the center.

http://www.saskschools.ca/~gregory/fun.html#fox

My thanks to research assistant, Ted Louis.