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Stories
A Wallawalla Tale
Once upon a time there were 2 sets of Indian brothers who were always fighting.
One set was the cold Wallawalla wind, and the other set was the warm Chinook wind.
These 2 sets of brothers were always fighting, and blowing back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.
The cold icy wind that blew from the North was called the Wallawalla wind, and the warm moist wind from the South was called the Chinook wind.
The cold Wallawalla brothers would come with the snow and ice, and the whole countryside including the Big River would be frozen and very cold.
Then the warm Chinook brothers would blow, warming up the land and the ice and snow would melt away.
The cold Wallawalla wind would blow and then the warm Chinook wind would blow.
These battling brothers were always blowing back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.
This has been going on for hundreds of years and it is still going on today.
First, the cold north Wallawalla wind blows very cold and everything is frozen. Then the south Chinook wind blows very warm, and everything is sunny and nice.
And as the old Indians say,
""It will never change, It will always be this way"".
And there lies the Wallawalla tale of the battling brothers.
The Wallawalla wind is in vicinity of the southeastern part of Washington State and the Chinook wind is the warm wind coming from the south. Name taken from the warm winter wind coming from the direction of the Chinook village below the Trading Post at Astoria, Oregon.
Taken from early writers. Written in my own style.
Eagle
This Wallawalla Tale of Chief Eagle was recorded by Paul Kane and witnessed by Peter Ogden of Hudson Bay Co. and I combined both accounts into one story.
1825 - Autumn
Mr Dease, Hudson Bay Trader at Fort Nez Perce/Walla Walla was informed by Indian messenger that "Eagle". Chief of this place had just lost a son.
The Wallawalla were governed by a Chief adored by his people and respected and feared by all surrounding Tribes for his great wisdom and courage.
This Chief had many sons who in childhood all resembled their father both in mind and body, but one by one as they had reached manhood and as their proud father hoped they would take their places as warriors and chiefs, they had passed away.
The stern Chief soothed his silent grief with hopes of those still left.
At last his hair grew white with sorrow and age and he had but one son left, the strongest, the bravest, and the best of all his sons and here all his hopes and dreams of the future had rested.
The old Chief devoted his whole time to the instruction of this beloved son -- he taught him the Indian ways, to be a great Warrior and secure many war trophies. Already the boy's name was known far and wide with all virtues adorn to the bravest.
But the great Spirit also took this last son and the Chief locked himself up in grief and spoke to no one nor sounded a single wailing sound.
The appointed time came for the final resting place. The yard was on a small knoll some furlongs distant from the Fort.
Mr. Dease a good friend to the Indians was asked to attend and Ogden having nothing better to do, decided to go along.
The Chief put himself at the front of the procession, dressed in full war regalia, painted in brilliant war paints and hung with trophies of his brilliant war record.
The Chief was around 50 years and his form and features though stern and swarthy was a model of manly beauty.
The mother and his 2 daughters were loud in their grief, but the father's grief was very calm, still like, was terrible and one could feel his great anguish.
Wailing and weeping assemble continued -- then complete silence to let grief soak in and silence for grief of parents.
Calmly he marched to the site and the body of his beloved placed there with Indian treasures to carry with him to the Happy Hunting Grounds.
After length of time, the old Chief called silence of the grieving mother and in solumn voice addressed the immense crowd.
Having called attention to different events of his life connected with his rank, he proceeded of the domestic afflictions he had endured, concluding with death of son, his last and his most beloved.
The bereaved father continued to address his people.
""From my youth up I have ever sought the honor and the welfare of my People and have never spared myself either in battle or the chase. I have led my People from victory to victory and instead of being surrounded by hostile Tribes you are now feared by all and your name proceeds you and your friendship is sought and your enmity dreaded - where ever the hunters of the Wallawalla may roam.
I have been a father to you all, and you have been as children to me, for more moons then I am able to count. You have never withheld your obedience from me, nor will you deny it to me now.
When the Great Spirit was pleased to call my children one by one to his blessed Hunting Grounds I saw them borne, without murmuring against his will, so long as there was still one left. I toiled on for this last one, taking pride in his pride, glorying in his glory, and living in his life, fondly hoping that when I should go to join his loved brothers that I should leave him to carry on amongst you, but the Great Spirit has called him also.
This hope of my old age, endeared to me by so many remembrances of his worth, his manly strength, his courage, his skill and prowess in war. Alas he now too lies in the cold earth and I am left alone.
I tracked that loved boy from its childhood gambols to its manly acts of daring. I was the first to place in his hands the bow and arrow, the tomahawk and taught him how to use them and often praised his skill and courage in using them.
Now the string to my bow is broken, the last hope of my declining days has forsaken me. Seek not to dissuade me from the resolution I have adopted for I am resolved to follow him and all you can urge will be in vain.
Life has no longer any charm for me. I was once a hunter, but no more. I was once a warrior, but no more. I was once a father to sons, but no more. Wherefore shall I continue to cumber this earth with my useless presence"".
Silence of the gathered crowd was enormous and extremely deep.
The old Chief folded his blanket around him -- took a long last look across his beloved homeland and the broad rolling River and continued.
""Shall I now forsake him and leave him alone and unaided to take the long and toilsome journey to the Great Creator's Hunting Ground. No! His spirit beckons me to go with him and he shall not be disappointed or be alone. The same shall contain us, the same earth shall cover us and as in this world, his father's arms shall be around him and assist him in every toil and danger and his father's spirit will be by his side in the long and toilsome journey to the plenteous and everlasting Happy Hunting Ground of the Great Creator in the clouds. You, my people have never disobeyed me and will not fail to fulfill my last commands.
I now leave you and when I lie with him, heap the earth over us both. Throw in the earth, fill it up, cover my last earthly residence.
Nay -- do not hesitate for I am resolved to go and nothing can change my purpose"".
Screams of agony rose from his wife and daughters and all assembled, but the Chief remained firm in his decision and not the tenderest pleas could change him.
""I will die, seek no longer to prevent it. I repeat, I will die"".
When all persuasion failed, a council was held, which was decided they had to obey their Chief.
When they agreed, the Chief began to divide his property amongst them. Giving 10 of his best ponies to Mr. Dease, who was looked upon as an adopted father and their friend. The rest of his many ponies were divided amongst his relatives.
His people continued in vain, endeavoring to change his mind and his resolution, then unwillingly and in great anguish obeyed his command and buried the Living With The Dead.
Peter Ogden ----
""Folding his blanket tightly about him, then laid on his son. I looked down into the handsome face of this man and I could perceive no symptoms of weakness. The same stern calmness still continued to characterize it as the earth descended upon him, still no muscle relaxed. I watched as the last earth was put upon him and was glad that I had come to be with him and be here at this moment of courage. In the midst of howling grief it was filled and the grass relaid.
According to agreed, Mr. Dease placed a red cloth flag over the grave, the tattered remnants was still fluttering in the breeze when later I left the countryside, serving to mark the spot of a tragedy"".
This stick with a piece of ragged red cloth was the only monument erected over them both, but their names will be the theme of many Indian stories as long as the Wallawalla exist.
Madame Dorian
In my traveling about, people have asked me who was Madame Dorian and why does she have a memorial park? I've asked myself the same thing, since it is on the Wallawalla home and land and no Indians have been honored with a park.
1814 - According to Ross Cox
Stuart and Clarke were on their way up (Columbia) river a few miles above the Wallawalla River, being followed by some Indian canoes, from which a voice hailed them in French and told them to stop.
Stuart and Clarke put ashore and were joined by Indians and among them was the Indian widow of half breed Pierre Dorian, a hunter who had come with Mr. Read to the country of the Snake Indians the preceding Autumn and her two children.
She had proceeded with her husband and 2 other hunters named Peznor and LeClerc to a part of the country 4 or 5 days from the Fort, well stocked with beaver and the hunters had succeeded in getting a large amount.
One evening in January, while the men were hunting, LeClerc staggered into her hut mortally wounded. He had merely enough strength to tell her that the Indians had suddenly fallen on them while at their traps and had killed her husband and Peznor. Dying LeClerc told her to flee.
The Indian woman fled immediately from the spot.
She caught 2 horses, on one she placed her clothes, a small amount of dried salmon and beaver meat. She mounted on the other horse with her 2 children, age 3 years and 4 months.
On 3rd day she saw Indians, she dismounted and escaped unseen.
She arrived at Mr. Read's hut. She was horror struck to behold a smoking ruin and fresh blood from wolves.
She proceeded next morning toward mountains not far from Wallawalla River where she intended to spend the winter. This place she arrived next day with great exhaustion and hunger. She had a buffalo robe and 3 deerskins. She made a tepee of pine bark and some branches that sheltered her well, next to a spring.
The Iowa Indian woman killed the 2 horses, smoked the meat and used skins as coverings, having a miserable existence from a severe season. At end of March she changed quarters as she had eaten nearly all the horsemeat.
She packed coverings and dried meat on her back with baby and older by hand. She came to the Wallawalla River and walked along the river until she came to Columbia River. The hospitable Wallawalla Indians took her in and treated her back to health for 2 weeks, when she was taken up river to Fort Okanogan.
(It was a bad winter and there were also other hanker down hunters till spring.)
Hudson Bay Co
It was said Hudson Bay Co. rode Indian ponies till French trappers and white men came. Indian ponies were used to cross mountains as they were smaller, steady, surefooted, could wiggle thru and around and between, could climb up or down, were tougher, could stand more stress, strain and abuse.
Oasis
Cayuse Indians -- Wallawalla "Valley of Many Waters" - - - after coming across a hot sun baked desert land into a valley of many streams, it was like an oasis in the desert.
There were many filled to capacity winter streams that dried in the summer heat and were plowed up into cropland.
1812 - Ross Cox
The Wallawalla Indians -- are no doubt the most friendliest we have seen on the River. Friendly polite invitation to come into any of their lodges.
Wallawalla was icy winters, burning summers and lots of blowing sand.
Sis-ka-dee
Sarah McKinley, wife of Hudson Bay Trader told writer Eva Dye that she didn't know about Elijah's love life so to use her imagination.
Evidently Dye's imagination came up with the story, Elijah was to marry Siskadee?
Wallawalla Peace Pipe
The pipe, it's stem one inch in diameter, 3 feet long, the bowl 4 inches long and 2 inches around was made of dark freestone.
The warriors and hunters carried long poled spears. Indians seemed to like to carry spears.
Wallamut Mission School
Jason Lee - - - Willamette River
The children all learn English -- several read very well.
They are taught to dress well, to be clean in their habits and they are well fed.
The larger boys work on the farm. They can plow, reap and do ordering for farm work. Several are very good mechanics.
The boys do well to earn their keep, their clothing and tuition.
They have a good barn, - - dwelling is 4 18 X 20 rooms with loft and cellar.
150 Acres fenced, good garden, school room, horses, oxen and milk cows.
1834 - Jason Lee reported large Indian population and he was looking forward to large class rooms. In spring 1835 there were few Indians left after the ague flu which wiped out many Indian camps.
One Indian
1847 - Andrew Pambrun - - - - Whitman Massacre
Peupeumoxmox wanted nothing to do with the Whitman Massacre and when he found one of the murderer in his own camp he said to his son, "Go bring him to me".
The son went, but returned wounded in his arm by a knife cut, dealt by the murderer.
The Chief said, "Take 2 or 3 men and tie him".
The son replied, "But my arm is cut".
"Never mind about your arm, do as you are told".
The son and several others went to get the culprit and tying him the son reported back to the Chief.
"Now go and hang him" was the order "as he was a very bad man for helping kill our friend, Whitman".
May 17, 1856
Volunteer Col. Nesmith sent a copy of the Treaty to Maj. Rains that included Lee's Encampment, that had not been discussed in council nor included in original treaty.
Nesmith, Wool, Wright thought because of Steven's action the treaty was null and void and hoped treaty would not be ratified.
Once in awhile I like to make up stories of my own about the people and events that I write about and are so much in my life. The following is one of those stories.
Sacred Two Sisters
Cayuse Girls and the Wolf legend
An old Indian man whose great Wallawalla grandmother had come into the land of others and had told stories of their sacred rocks, it had become like a mecca that they should one day return to their sacred religious place on the Columbia.
He had thought often of this Place the stories had told of, and knew that one day he would have to return.
*****************************
He drove across the wide country like a homing pigeon gladly returning on a mission, hearing the voices of his ancestors like a beacon light, beckoning him safely home.
Traveling slowly along the ancient Columbia River he came in sight of the 2 sacred rocks of the Cayuse Girls, and his heart swelled with homage and he remembered the spirit of his grandmother as if she was with him and also had returned to the land of her birth.
He paused, stopped, and looked at the Two Sisters, and the Wolf encased in the rock across the river, who had been there since time immortal.
He drove around the rocks and parked on the side by a path that ascended the hill to the Sisters and beyond.
*****************************
Here at the top of the hill, stretched out before him in all directions he could see the land of his ancient Wallawalla People, who had resided there for many, many years.
He felt very small and insignificant.
He turned his attention to the land that spread out before him and of the Whiteman who had come like a plague of locust and devoured his People - - and the many foreigners who had followed them.
He spread his blanket on the dirt and gracefully dropping Indian fashion to the ground, he began to chant the songs taught to him by his grandmothers.
First he sang the song of his grandmother and he felt her spirit soar within him.
He sang of his family, of his religion, of his People.
His clear vibrant voice filled the air.
He sang to the Indian Creator, to Mother earth, to the sun God, to the rain God, of his ancient family.
His chanting filled the air about him and carried out to yon hills. His songs of gladness as sweet as the trilling voice of a bird seept into the air.
These songs went on for quite awhile.
Then there was silence. A prolonged silence.
Then he quietly returned to the land of the living and sat with a great humble feeling of deep contentment.
He rose slowly to his feet, picking up his blanket and once more gazed again at his ancient land.
He had come home. Come home forever, like his People before him, he had returned to this sacred place of worship and brought his ancient Wallawalla grandmother with him.