The Girl Who Married the Moon Page 4

  Perhaps the largest and most powerful of the southeastern tribes, the Cherokee made their home in the Great Smoky Mountains in parts of North Carolina, Tennessee, Georgia, and Kentucky. To the south were the Creek, or Muskogee, people, neighbors and traditional enemies of the Cherokee. On the southwestern border of this region lived the Caddo, while the Piankeshaw, or Peoria, people were found to the north in present-day Indiana. Pressured by other tribes and the westward expansion of white settlements, the Piankeshaw moved west; first to Missouri, where the story “The Girl Who Married an Osage” is set, and then on to Oklahoma. The majority of tribes originally from the southeast may be found today in Oklahoma, as a result of the forced migration of Native people to land west of the Mississippi River.

  Like their relatives in the Northeast, women in the southeastern tribes were powerful and respected members of their societies. A young girl was considered to have begun her entrance into womanhood when she first experienced menstruation. In most Native American cultures, women having their “moontime” stayed apart from the general population, usually in a special women’s lodge. Viewing the custom through prevailing Western biases, early European observers assumed women were seen as “unclean” at such times, or “sick.”

  On the contrary, Native people simply understood that the ability to create life is the strongest power there is, and believed that women showing physical evidence of that power could neutralize or divert any other formulas, rituals, or ceremonies being practiced. This idea is explained in the Cherokee story “Stonecoat.”

  The tradition of the warrior woman, very common in the Southeast, is the theme of the Creek story “The Girl Who Helped Thunder.” The girl wins the friendship of Thunder, using skills commonly thought of as belonging to men. In the Piankeshaw story “The Girl Who Married an Osage,” the time-honored motif of the star-crossed lovers is explored, along with the transformation resulting from a sacrifice to that love. Finally, we see the journey from childhood to maturity, from foolishness to wisdom, in the Caddo story “The Girls Who Almost Married an Owl.”

  Stonecoat

  Cherokee

  This is what the old women told me when I was a girl. Once, long ago, all the people of the settlement went out into the mountains on a great hunt. One hunter went alone, ahead of the others. He climbed to the top of a high ridge, and on the other side, he found a large river. His eyes scanned the ridge across the river for game. Instead, he saw something very strange. An old man came walking along that ridge, leaning on a staff that seemed to be made of some bright, shining rock. Once in a while, the old man would lift the staff and point it in a certain direction, then draw it back and smell the end of it. At last, he pointed it in the direction of the people’s hunting camp, and the staff seemed to glow even brighter, until it shone like the sun. This time, when the old man drew back the staff, he sniffed the end of it several times as if it smelled very good. And he turned and started down the ridge, straight toward the camp of the people.

  Now the hunter had never seen anything quite like this, and he did not know what to think. So he hid himself and continued to watch the old man. The old man moved very slowly, leaning on that shining staff. When he reached the edge of the ridge, he lifted the staff into the air and spoke to it. Then he hurled it as high as he could. The hunter watched in astonishment as the staff grew into a bridge of glowing rock that stretched all the way across the river. When the old man had crossed the river, he held out his hand and the bridge became a staff again. He picked it up and started over the mountain, straight for the camp of the people.

  The hunter was very frightened. He felt sure that the old man meant evil for his people. So he hurried down the mountain and took the shortest trail back to the camp, in order to arrive before the old man. When he got there and told his story, the elders became alarmed. They knew at once what the hunter had seen. It was Nun-yunu-wi, Stonecoat, a wicked cannibal monster who lived in that part of the country and hunted human beings. It was hard to escape from him because his staff guided him like a good hunting dog. And it would be even harder to kill him because his whole body was covered with a skin of solid rock. If Stonecoat found the camp, he would kill and eat them all.

  The men of the camp began to arm themselves and prepared to defend the camp. But the ada wehi, the medicine man, stopped them, saying, “There is no stronger power than that of Stonecoat. We will have to defeat him another way. The power to bring new life is greater than the power to kill. We must speak to the women.”

  And so the men sought among the women for those who were in their moontime, that time when women show physical signs of their power to give birth, to create new life. They found seven women who were in that way, and they all agreed to try to use this power to save the lives of the people.

  The women stood along the trail Stonecoat would follow. They stood some distance from each other, so that the oldest was the farthest away and the youngest stood just outside the camp.

  Soon they heard Stonecoat coming along the trail, and they could see the glowing rock of his staff. When he saw the first woman, he flinched and cried out, “Yu, my grandchild, you are in a very bad way!”

  But the woman stood still and straight, and replied, “No, Grandfather, I am in a sacred way.”

  He hurried past her. In a moment, he met the second woman, and again he cried out, “Yu! Granddaughter, you are in a very bad way!”

  The second woman also replied, “No, Grandfather, I am in a sacred way.”

  Stonecoat passed this woman, too, but now he was much weaker. He hurried on and met the third, fourth, and fifth women. With each woman he passed, his step grew slower and his voice was growing faint.

  As he passed the sixth woman, blood began to trickle from his mouth, and his steps began to falter. Still he passed her and went on toward the camp. The seventh woman was a young girl who was having her very first moontime. When Stonecoat saw her, blood began to pour from his mouth, and he fell down upon the trail. The medicine man hurried to him and drove seven sourwood stakes through his body, pinning him to the ground. When night came, the men piled great logs over him and set fire to them, and all the people gathered to watch.

  Now Stonecoat was a great ada wehi and knew many secrets. As the fire began to come close to him, he spoke to the people, saying, “The sacred powers of these women have defeated me. I will teach you what I know before I die.”

  And so Stonecoat began to talk and to teach them the medicine for all kinds of sickness. At midnight, he began to sing, and he sang the hunting songs for the deer and the mountain buffalo, and for all the animals of the forests and the mountains. As the fire grew hotter, his voice sank lower and lower, until, at last, when daylight came, the fire was a pile of white ashes, and the voice was still.

  The people raked away the ashes. Where the body of Stonecoat had been, there was only a great crystal stone that they gave to the medicine man to use in his healing work. Where the shining staff had been was a lump of the sacred red wadi paint—its color the symbol of power and triumph.

  The medicine man called the people to him and painted them on the face and chest. And whatever each person prayed for while the painting was being done—hunting success, working skill, or a long and happy life—that prayer was answered.

  The Girl Who Helped Thunder

  Muskogee (Creek)

  Long ago, among the Muskogee people, there lived a girl who was a very skillful hunter. When she was small, she would follow her brothers, learning first to hunt game with a blowgun, then to master the bow and arrow. Often her skill would leave older boys grumbling as she won honors in the target-shooting contests they held among themselves. But more than anything, she loved to hunt—to bring home meat to help feed her family. And she looked forward longingly to the day when her male relatives would invite her to join them in a hunting party.

  At last, the day came when her uncles asked her to travel with them into the mountains. When they reached the site of the hunting camp, she realized they meant for her to cook and take charge of the camp. Still she did not complain, but went about her duties as best she could.

  One day, as she was preparing sofkee, or cornmeal mush, for the men to eat, she heard a deep rumble of thunder. Yet this thunder did not come from the sky. It seemed as though it came from the stream running next to the camp. She hurried down to the water and saw an old man struggling to free himself from the coils of a stahwanaia, or tie-snake, who lived in the rivers and streams. Every time the man thrashed to throw off the coils of the snake, the thunder rolled, and as the snake writhed, the girl could see a bright white spot flashing on its neck.

  As soon as they saw the girl, both the snake and the old man began to call for her help. “Shoot the white spot on its neck,” pleaded the old man, “or he will drown me. It is the only way to kill him.”

  “Shoot the old man,” called the snake, “or his thunder will kill you.”

  At first, the girl stood helplessly, unable to decide what she should do. Then she remembered that Thunder often brought rain, which helped corn to grow. So she carefully aimed her arrow at the white spot on the snake’s neck and loosed it, killing the tie-snake instantly. The coils slid from around the old man’s body as the snake sank into the water of the stream.

  Now Thunder, for that was who the old man was, turned and walked out of the stream and over to where the girl was standing. “You are just a young girl,” Thunder said, “but you will always be my friend. There is a time of trouble coming for your people. If you will listen to me and do as I say, I will give you the power to help.” And Thunder told the girl exactly what she should do.

  “You must purify yourself to prepare for this power,” said Thunder. “You must do the medicine fast that young men do when they seek spi
rit guidance for their lives. In this way, you will be ready when the time comes.

  “You will sing the song I am about to teach you, and great power will be yours.” Then Thunder taught the girl the song and cautioned her not to use it unless her people were in danger.

  When the uncles returned to camp, they packed up and made ready to return to the village. On the trail, the girl walked behind her uncles as Thunder had told her to do. Along the way, she asked each of her uncles to help her undergo a four-day medicine fast. Three times she asked, but the older uncles said, “There is no use in that. You are too young.”

  Finally, the fourth and youngest uncle said, “Since you have asked, I feel I must help you.” And when they reached the village, the youngest uncle kept his promise. He made all the arrangements for the ceremony, just as he would have for a nephew. He helped the girl, as an uncle should.

  He stayed with her through the long night in the sweathouse. Then he took her to a secluded place where she would remain alone for the four days of fasting. As the girl prayed during her long vigil, the words of Thunder came back to her: “I will give you the power to help.”

  In the fall of that year, when most of the men were away hunting to provide meat for the coming winter, word reached the village that a great party of Cherokee warriors was making its way from the north. As the war party approached the village, the youngest uncle of the Girl Who Helped Thunder went looking for her. He had seen her skill with weapons, and he wanted her to fight with him. Drawing near to her home, he saw her walking away from the village, going toward the east. He followed her and watched as she walked around the village in a great circle, singing in a language he had never heard before. Four times she circled her people; four times she sang the song. When he saw her again, she had taken the shape of a brilliant rainbow.

  The Cherokee, too, noticed the beautiful rainbow, arcing over their heads. From high above, the Girl Who Helped Thunder lifted her bow and began firing white-hot bolts of lightning. Thunder rolled as her arrows exploded at the foot of the enemy.

  When all the Cherokee warriors were dead or captured, the Girl Who Helped Thunder took back her own shape. She spoke to her captives, saying, “Return to your people and tell them what happened here.” In fear and confusion, the Cherokee retreated from that village, and they did not return.

  And to this day, the story is told of how the Girl Who Helped Thunder used the sacred power given her to save the lives of her people.

  The Girl Who Married an Osage

  Piankeshaw (Peoria)

  The long winter had ended. The Piankeshaw people in the village led by Chief Sauk-ton-qua were preparing to leave their winter camp in the Bois Brûlé to return to the summer hunting grounds in the west. The women sang as they worked, and the men’s hearts were light. Warm weather was coming, bringing the season of plenty.

  But for Mina-Sauk, the daughter of Chief Sauk-ton-qua, the approach of spring brought no joy. With worried eyes, the chief watched his daughter. He saw how pale and listless she had become; he saw the pain in her eyes. Mina-Sauk had been ill all winter. Neither the loving care of her family nor the cures of the medicine men had been able to help her. Mina-Sauk’s sickness was not of the body, but of the heart.

  In the hunting season of the year before, Mina-Sauk had been captured by a raiding party of the Osage, longtime enemies of the Piankeshaw. For four months, she lived in an Osage village far to the north. There she fell in love with an Osage warrior and married him. When she was retaken by the warriors of her father, her homecoming was not a joyous one, for she grieved at the loss of her mate. Not even the words of her father or the pleadings of her mother could make Mina-Sauk forget her husband.

  “No happiness can come of this marriage,” the old chief told his daughter. “Has the love of this Osage caused you to forget your people?”

  “I have not forgotten my people,” Mina-Sauk replied, “but I cannot forget the love I feel for my husband. Manitou, the maker of all things, put this love in my heart. Only Manitou can remove it.”

  The summer camp of this band of Piankeshaw people was nestled on the side of a mountain that fell away in three steep granite ledges. It was a place easy to defend, even with many men out in hunting parties. Near the end of June, the Moon When Flowers Bloomed, women returning from the stream on the valley floor hurried to find Chief Sauk-ton-qua. They had seen Mina-Sauk at the water. She was with her Osage husband. Now that winter’s grip on the land was broken, he had traveled from his home in the north to find his wife and take her away with him. Quickly, Sauk-ton-qua sent his warriors to capture this Osage and bring him to the village.

  The people of Sauk-ton-qua gathered around a council fire that night. In their midst was the Osage husband, a prisoner, tightly bound. For many hours, the people spoke what was in their hearts, and Sauk-ton-qua and his elders listened. Men spoke of the children they had lost to Osage raiding parties, and women talked of husbands lost in the Osage wars.

  At last, the medicine man spoke, saying, “The power of this Osage man makes a prisoner of Mina-Sauk. He is an enemy and he should die like one. Mina-Sauk will then be free and her heart will heal.”

  When she heard these words, Mina-Sauk could no longer be silent. In anger and in grief, she spoke to the people, saying, “Manitou put this love in my heart. Destroy my husband and you will destroy me. You will destroy yourselves.”

  But hate for the Osage had hardened the people’s hearts against her, and they would not listen.

  Sauk-ton-qua sent men to stand on the granite ledges. The Osage husband was pushed from the side of the mountain. When his body landed on the first ledge, the men waiting there threw him to the second ledge, and the men there sent his broken body into the deep ravine below. A hoarse cry broke from Mina-Sauk. Struggling free from the arms of the women, she leaped from the edge of the cliff to join her husband in death. Her mangled body landed at the bottom of the ravine, next to that of the man she loved.

  As the people watched in horror, a great bolt of lightning split the sky and the voice of Thunder spoke. The side of the mountain exploded, killing the people of Sauk-ton-qua. A great storm raged. Then, as suddenly as it had come, it was gone. Where the lightning had struck, the earth was split and a stream of water, the tears of Mina-Sauk, poured down over the granite ledges, washing everything clean. In the ravine at the foot of the falls, where the blood of Mina-Sauk pooled with that of her husband, bright-red flowers were growing. Now called Indian pinks, they bloom each year in the Flower Moon at the foot of Mina-Sauk Falls.

  The Girls Who Almost Married an Owl

  Caddo

  One time, there lived a man and woman who were married for many years, yet no babies were born to them. Finally, when the woman was almost past the age of childbearing, twin daughters came. The couple was overjoyed. They named the firstborn First Daughter, and the second twin was called Little Sister.

  As the girls grew, they were so much alike that only their parents could tell them apart, and they were as close as two sisters could be. When the time came for them to marry, the old couple arranged a visit with the family of first one man and then another. But First Daughter and Little Sister always refused these men, saying, “We do not want to be separated; we want to share a husband. Therefore, the man we marry must be wealthy enough to take care of us both.”

  At last, the twins heard of a great chief from a faraway village. Rumors of his wealth and his fame as a leader had spread throughout the country. “This man would make a fine husband,” First Daughter told her twin, and Little Sister agreed. So the girls went to their parents to ask permission to seek the village of this chief in order to offer themselves in marriage. Now this made the old couple very sad, for they were too old to undertake such a journey. If this chief accepted the twins, the old people might never see their grandchildren. Still, they could not find it in their hearts to refuse their daughters.