Run fast, Cortez! Run fast!

There is trouble! There is trouble!

Go to the place of the white settlers. There is trouble.

Samuel is ahead. His legs are longer. Run faster, Cortez.

There is trouble and there is not time to get a horse.

There by the river where it makes a horseshoe bend.

There by the land where the settlers made a fence.

There where the Nez Perce people have gathered.

There where the Ni-mi-pu have gathered.

There where white settlers have gathered.

There is anger in the voices. Run faster, Cortez!

There is the white settler, Larry Ott. There with a plow horse.

Larry Ott is starting to plow outside his fence.

There is loud shouting!

This place is where the Nez Perce buffalo hunter, Eagle Robe, has a garden.

This place is where the Lamtamas often camp.

Cortez, Cortez, run faster! Run faster!

The anger in the voice of Eagle Robe is like a war song.

Run faster, Cortez! You must stop the warrior. Run faster, Cortez!

Eagle Robe has found a stone, and his arm is back. Run faster, Cortez!

Eagle Robe throws the stone with much force and knocks Larry Ott into the plowed furrow.

Run faster, Cortez! Run faster! Stop the anger, Cortez!

Larry Ott is getting up from the plowed furrow. Larry Ott’s face is purple with rage, and dirt is in his beard.

Cortez, run to Larry Ott. Stop him!

Cortez, run to the settler. Larry Ott is reaching for the pistol in his belt.

Stop Larry Ott, Cortez!

Larry Ott is pointing the pistol at the belly of Eagle Robe.

Stop him, Cortez!

The noise! The noise! It is the pistol.

The pistol is making smoke. It is sending a ball into Eagle Robe.

Eagle Robe is going down, Cortez! Catch him, Cortez! He is your friend.

Your friend has been shot by Larry Ott.

All are enraged. All are saddened.

Larry Ott lowers his pistol. He fires no more.

Cortez Modrables—the young white shaman/healer given the name Simahichen Tim (Grizzly Bear Talking) by the Ni-mi-pu—caught Eagle Robe and laid him gently on a bed of new spring grass. Others gathered around the wounded warrior, including his son, Shore Crossing. As Simahichen Tim examined the warrior’s wound, Eagle Robe motioned for his son to come near. “Do not avenge this shooting, Shore Crossing. Promise me that.”

“But Father, Larry Ott shot you. He should pay.” The son objected in an anguished voice. “It is my duty as your son.”

“No! No, Shore Crossing! I was wrong to throw the stone. It will only cause more blood if you avenge this shooting. Others will be made to suffer. Promise me that you will leave Larry Ott alone and let the white people use their laws.” Eagle Robe’s voice is only a whisper. He is growing weaker.

“We must take Eagle Robe to my lodge where I can care for him,” Cortez commanded.

Journal of Cortez Modrables

March 15, 1877

Today’s shooting was a tragic happening. It is true that the Salmon River Valley has long been the home of the Lamtama band, but it is also true that the U.S. government has given the settlers the right to take the land in this valley. However, it is not just, so it is hardly surprising that Ott’s actions made Eagle Robe, ordinarily a mild-mannered old warrior, so angry that he threw the stone at Ott. But throwing a rock at someone does not merit shooting the rock thrower! The bullet undoubtedly damaged some organs, and I fear that that Eagle Robe may die as a result. I will use every means I have to help him heal, but I cannot remove the bullet so deeply embedded in the old warrior’s body. I also fear that, even though Shore Crossing promised his father not to avenge the shooting, if Eagle Robe dies, the young man’s anger may overwhelm him.

Samuel is carrying a message to Indian Agent Monteith at Lapwai Reservation, telling him of the shooting and asking him to come before there is more trouble between the Ni-mi-pu Lamtamas and the white farmer.

Cortez Modrables, like many others in the Lamtama band, had long been a friend of Eagle Robe, who had given the young shaman the fine stallion, Silu Silu (the Sahaptin word for eyeglasses). Cortez had named the cream-colored pony after his sire because he had the same eyeglass-like markings—dark rings around both eyes.

The gift had been one of gratitude. Several years before, Shore Crossing had lost the sire in a foolish wager over a horserace with a soyapo miner at Gold Creek, in Montana Territory. Falling and injuring a leg, Silu Silu of course lost the race, thereby becoming the property of the miner. But the man had no use for a crippled horse and was going to put him down. Appalled, Cortez bought Silu Silu for six quarters. Then the apprentice shaman/healer found an ingenious way to heal the injury, using his ability to communicate with animals’ minds. Cortez gained further respect from the Lamtamas when he gave the healing pony back to Eagle Robe, thereby initiating a long-standing friendship between the young man and Eagle Robe, as well as his son, Shore Crossing.

This tragic event was especially poignant for Cortez, but he also saw it as one of many to come. Conflicts were already smoldering like coals in a campfire. A strong breath could cause another flare-up of anger. Over the nine years that Cortez had lived with the Lamtamas, he had seen dozens of soyapo families and individuals move into places where the Ni-mi-pu had camped, fished, and gathered roots for as long as they could remember.

White settlers felt that it was their legal and moral right to occupy this land, grow crops, and fence off pastures. In the white culture, good land left unused is considered a waste. White settlers needed land to feed their families, so they felt justified in taking it. The Ni-mi-pu were being pushed out because their relationship to the land was not understood, and thus was not honored.

Journal of Cortez Modrables

March 18, 1874

Today Eagle Robe died of the gunshot wound from the pistol of Larry Ott. The old warrior’s son, Shore Crossing, was with him. A charge of murder will be brought against Larry Ott. I hope that the laws of Idaho Territory will be justly applied to convict him. They have not been in the cases of other assaults and murders of Indians committed by soyapos. If this murder is not justly prosecuted, I’m afraid that revenge will smolder in the gut of Shore Crossing until someday it erupts.

Journal of Cortez Modrables

March 20, 1874

Today Agent Monteith arrived from Lapwai to investigate the killing of Eagle Robe. He is asking the people who saw the fight what happened. He will also talk with Mister Ott, if he can find him. He seems to have disappeared.

The Lamtamas buried Eagle Robe with the honor he deserved as a brave warrior and leader. Simahichen Tim performed the rituals as a full shaman, but he felt inadequate for the task. He questioned this needless death in his own mind and asked the spirit of the land, the Ni-mi-pu guardian, “What is the future of the Real People?” Then, as he stood by the grave where Eagle Robe’s body was being covered, he asked himself what his future as Simahichen Tim would be, and where the future of Cortez Modrables might lie.

Cortez spoke with Agent Monteith as a witness of the shooting. After he told Monteith exactly what he saw, the agent asked if he would swear to his truthfulness in a court of law. When Cortez replied that he would, Monteith sighed, saying, “That’s good. The Nez Perce witnesses have told me that they do not need to swear on a Bible to tell the truth in court, and it is an insult to be asked to do so. They don’t seem to understand that the American law courts require such an oath. The Ni-mi-pu custom of making a statement three times for it to be accepted as truth is not sufficient.

Larry Ott was not in the valley for Agent Monteith to interview. Some reported that he was sick; others said that he was mining in the gold camp at Florence, dressed as a Chinaman.

Rachel—the young, Christian, Ni-mi-pu teacher with whom Cortez was in love—was in Lapwai with her own troubled thoughts. What is the future of Simahichen Tim? Or where does the future of Cortez Modrables lie? And what is my own future to be? She pondered these things over and over as she tossed and turned in her bed.

Samuel had come by the schoolhouse earlier this evening. He carried no letter from Cortez, but he told Rachel of the note that he had just delivered to Agent Monteith about the shooting of the Lamtama warrior, Eagle Robe, by a white settler. Samuel told her that Cortez was doing everything he could to save the warrior’s life and couldn’t take time to write a note. Samuel added that, tough as the old warrior was, he would almost certainly die.

Rachel didn’t know the wounded man, but Samuel told her that he was highly respected and that his death would create dangerous tension in the Salmon River Valley. Rachel couldn’t help but worry. Each time I hear of a clash between white men and Ni-mi-pu, I feel very bad. The conflicts will continue. The tension is especially bad between the non-treaty Ni-mi-pu and the white people who are moving onto their off-reservation homelands.

Troubled by her thoughts, the beautiful, young woman sat up in bed and watched the shadows made by the moonlight on the floor of her little room. I know that Cortez is in a very difficult position, and that I don’t always understand. I’m growing to love him more and more, even though we argue each time we meet. Sometimes he makes me so angry that I wish I didn’t love him. If he would just face reality and come onto the reservation, he could become a doctor to both red- and white-skinned people. I could then become the Christian wife of a white Jewish doctor.

Lying back down, Rachel whispered to herself, “I could never become the squaw of a shaman/healer/Dreamer,” as tears ran down her cheeks onto her pillow. Knowing that tears didn’t help; Rachel turned her thoughts back to becoming the wife of Cortez Modrables, whom she envisioned wearing a white man’s suit and having short hair. I wonder what it would be like to lie under the blankets with this handsome man and feel the heat from his body—have him kiss my mouth and hold my body close to his.

Sitting up, Rachel scolded herself. “It’s that full moon filling my mind with these thoughts! The moon sends thoughts of love to all people.” Then, smiling to herself, Rachel decided to pray that thoughts of lovemaking would not come to her until the day that marriage removed the sin of such thoughts.

Cortez Modrables sat on the bank of the Salmon River. He had intended to write his thoughts of the future in his journal, but instead he was listening to the river’s peaceful flow, watching the full moon pass between the high cliffs of the canyon, and drifting into thought. I should be sleeping. I spent two nights and two days caring for Eagle Robe, but then he died anyway—a sad death. Eagle Robe was a wise, courageous man, who should have had the honor of a brave warrior’s death as he protected his people. A coward’s bullet carries no honor.

The Ni-mi-pu were very sad, and Shore Crossing was very angry, but the son had vowed to his father that he would not seek revenge against Larry Ott. In frustration, Shore Crossing shifted his anger toward Cortez—telling whoever would listen that Cortez had failed to save his father’s life, and that if he were a true healer, his father would be alive. There was nothing Cortez could do about those words but let the people judge for themselves. He had questioned himself many times, and all he could say was, “I try my best to be a true tiwet, a good shaman/healer.”

Another reason for Cortez’s wakefulness was his thoughts of Rachel. Is Rachel thinking about me? Could her thoughts be directed toward me? Could we be looking at the same moon right now and both thinking of our love and our future? What is our future? That last thought weighed on his heart like a bag of lead, sinking his spirits. Sometimes it was very disheartening to think of the future at all—not just his own, but that of the Nez Perce tribe, divided between those on the reservation and those who still sought to live on and defend what had always been their land.