Acknowledgments
My encounter with the Cypress Hills was made possible by the vision and dedication of the members of the Eastend Arts Council, who not only own and operate the Wallace Stegner House but who also, through a variety of other initiatives, help to keep the creative fire burning in southwestern Saskatchewan. Our time in Eastend has also been enriched by the company of Sharon Butala and the late Peter Butala, Betty Davis and the late Bob Davis, Dr. Anne Davis and Kevin Bristow, Susan Howard, Wendy Kabrud, Bryson LaBoissiere, Sue Michalsky and Roland Bear, Jim Saville, Mary Thomson, Seán Virgo, Ethel Wills, Sherry Wright and Bill Caton, and Sherry and Dennis Webster, all of whom have deepened my understanding of what it means to be a prairie person.
If it takes a village to raise a child, it has taken an extended community to nurture this story. Words cannot adequately express my appreciation for the generosity of elder Jean Francis Oakes, Piyêso kâ-pêtowitak, of Nekaneet First Nation. We are all lucky that, as she puts it, she “used to be nosy.” I was also privileged to consult with Dale Mosquito and Linda Oakes, also from Nekaneet, and with elder Harry Francis of Piapot First Nation. Thanks are due, as well, to former Nekaneet chief Alice Pahtayken and her council for permission to visit the reserve and to former school principal Trevor Bearance for helping me to get my bearings. Patrick Wallace, then assistant warden management services at the Okimaw Ohci Healing Lodge, opened many doors for me, and Clare McNab, ex-Kikawinaw at the lodge, made it possible to believe that telling the truth about the past could be a road to healing.
So many other people have helped me over the years that it is impossible to name them all. I owe a particular debt to family historian Nora Hassell of Grande Prairie, researcher Lou Lockhart of Saskatoon, and Royce Pettijohn and Clayton Y. Yarshenko, who are mainstays of the Southwest Saskatchewan Old Timers Museum in Maple Creek and of Fort Walsh (now the Fort Walsh and Cypress Hills Massacre national historic sites). Two First Nations art stars, visual artist Lori Blondeau and playwright Kenneth T. Williams, provided astute advice and encouragement when it was most needed. The book also benefited from the expert counsel of a number of scholars, including Barry Ahenakew, then chief of Ahtahkakoop First Nation, now with the Saskatchewan Indian Cultural Centre; Tim Tokaryk, T.rex Discovery Centre and Royal Saskatchewan Museum; the late John Tobias, Red Deer; Donalee Deck, Parks Canada; Dr. Marie Battiste, Dr. Margaret Kennedy, and Dr. David Meyer, University of Saskatchewan; Dr. David Sauchyn, University of Regina; Dr. Cynthia Chambers, University of Lethbridge; Dr. Alison Landals, Stantec Consulting, Calgary; and Dr. Brian Reeves and Dr. Gerald Oetelaar, University of Calgary. In addition, I was inspired by speakers at “History in the Hills” in 2006 and 2007 (notably Val Ryder of the Carry the Kettle First Nation) and at seminars organized by the Buffalo Bill Historical Center in Cody, Wyoming, including Dr. Linea Sundstrom, Joe Medicine Crow, and the late Blackfeet cultural historian Curly Bear Wagner. As for the ebullient, eloquent Narcisse Blood of the Káínai Nation and Red Crow College, my admiration for his insight, mischievous humor, and kindness is unbounded.
It is an honor to acknowledge the endorsement of the David Suzuki Foundation and the financial support of the Saskatchewan Arts Board and the Canada Council for the Arts.
The book was reviewed in manuscript by editor Shelley Tanaka, novelist Suzanne North, and historians Dr. Bill Waiser and Dr. Sheena Rolph, each of whom offered valuable advice that was gratefully taken to heart. Keith Bell, my companion in all good things, listened patiently to passages read aloud, hot off the screen, and commented on several early drafts with a remarkable combination of insight and tact. Nancy Flight of Greystone Books provided editorial direction with professional vigor and grace, and publisher Rob Sanders has believed in and supported this project from its vaguest beginnings. The title is drawn from Wood Mountain Poems by Andrew Suknaski—“this is my right/to chronicle the meaning of these vast plains/in a geography of blood and failure/making them live”—and is used with his permission.
It only remains to express my gratitude for the beauty of the Cypress Hills, which stops us in our tracks and makes us listen.