don’t make me do this.”
Charlie said nothing, but after the first fifty feet of climbing he was already wheezing for breath.
“Listen to him, man!” Remo panted. “He has asthma!”
But Wodziwob said, “Many of my people were sick, too, when they came to hide on this mountain. Many were women, and many were defenseless children, and many were old. But they all had to climb, regardless.”
From the sound of his breathing, he was obviously finding the climb as laborious as they were, but he doggedly plodded upward, and Tubbohwa’e kept on pulling the rest of them after him, scaling the loose volcanic rubble as though he were some monstrous black spider, with a deathly white face, and Tudatzewunu followed behind, to heave them up on their feet again, if they fell.
It took them more than two hours to reach the top of the promontory, and although the ground was still rocky and uneven and covered with loose volcanic shale, it began to level off beneath their feet. They could see nothing at all, only blackness, but they could feel the night wind blowing more strongly in their faces, and all around them they could hear the soft roar of thousands of pine trees, which surrounded the rimrock like the ocean.
Wodziwob stopped, and Tubbohwa’e pulled sharply at the rope to stop the four of them from climbing any farther. Charlie dropped to his knees, whining with asthma.
Wodziwob said, “It was September, one hundred fifty years ago, and three tribes had gathered here—Paiute, Modoc, and Pit River. Usually, they were enemies. But this was a Big Time, which happened once a year, when enemies would forget their hostility and come together for feasting, games, trading, and for marriages to be arranged between the tribes.”
“And what the fuck does that have to do with us?” Remo demanded, although he was still out of breath.
“It has everything to do with you,” Wodziwob told him. “Your white soldiers did not understand about Big Times even though they used to be common in California before the Europeans came. Because three enemy tribes had gatheredtogether, your soldiers assumed that they intended to attack them, and so they decided to wipe them out.
“But, tell me, if the tribes had been here to plot war, why did they have their women and children and their old people with them? If they had not had their women and children and old people with them, they would not have been forced to stay here at Infernal Caverns and fight. They would have melted away, like shadows, so that they could fight another day.
“Any soldier with any intelligence would have realized that. And any man with any humanity would have let these people go. But they murdered more than twenty of them, including women and children and old people, and that is a crime that still cries out for justice.”
“But it wasn’t us ,” wheezed Charlie, in desperation. “It wasn’t even our grandfathers’ grandfathers.”
But Wodziwob took no notice. “Let me tell you what they did, these white soldiers. They took five prisoners, including Chief Si-e-ta. Their Indian scouts took thorn branches and pulled their eyes out onto their cheeks. Then they bound them together, and told them to walk to the edge of the rimrock and keep on walking.
“It is six hundred feet to the valley floor below.”
Mickey said, in a haunted voice, “You’re not expecting us to do the same?”
Wodziwob circled around them, prodding each of them with his finger. “If I did, would you not call that justice? What does it say in your holy book? ‘Life for life, eye for eye’?”
Cayley started to cry again, inconsolably, like a miserable child.
Wodziwob said, “Don’t you think that we cried, too, when our children were killed?”
C HAPTER S EVEN
Washington, DC
After twenty minutes, Dr. Schaumberg and Dr. Henry came into the room, followed by Dr. Cronin.
“David, the doctors are back,” said the First Lady, taking hold of the president’s hand.
Dr.
Charlie said nothing, but after the first fifty feet of climbing he was already wheezing for breath.
“Listen to him, man!” Remo panted. “He has asthma!”
But Wodziwob said, “Many of my people were sick, too, when they came to hide on this mountain. Many were women, and many were defenseless children, and many were old. But they all had to climb, regardless.”
From the sound of his breathing, he was obviously finding the climb as laborious as they were, but he doggedly plodded upward, and Tubbohwa’e kept on pulling the rest of them after him, scaling the loose volcanic rubble as though he were some monstrous black spider, with a deathly white face, and Tudatzewunu followed behind, to heave them up on their feet again, if they fell.
It took them more than two hours to reach the top of the promontory, and although the ground was still rocky and uneven and covered with loose volcanic shale, it began to level off beneath their feet. They could see nothing at all, only blackness, but they could feel the night wind blowing more strongly in their faces, and all around them they could hear the soft roar of thousands of pine trees, which surrounded the rimrock like the ocean.
Wodziwob stopped, and Tubbohwa’e pulled sharply at the rope to stop the four of them from climbing any farther. Charlie dropped to his knees, whining with asthma.
Wodziwob said, “It was September, one hundred fifty years ago, and three tribes had gathered here—Paiute, Modoc, and Pit River. Usually, they were enemies. But this was a Big Time, which happened once a year, when enemies would forget their hostility and come together for feasting, games, trading, and for marriages to be arranged between the tribes.”
“And what the fuck does that have to do with us?” Remo demanded, although he was still out of breath.
“It has everything to do with you,” Wodziwob told him. “Your white soldiers did not understand about Big Times even though they used to be common in California before the Europeans came. Because three enemy tribes had gatheredtogether, your soldiers assumed that they intended to attack them, and so they decided to wipe them out.
“But, tell me, if the tribes had been here to plot war, why did they have their women and children and their old people with them? If they had not had their women and children and old people with them, they would not have been forced to stay here at Infernal Caverns and fight. They would have melted away, like shadows, so that they could fight another day.
“Any soldier with any intelligence would have realized that. And any man with any humanity would have let these people go. But they murdered more than twenty of them, including women and children and old people, and that is a crime that still cries out for justice.”
“But it wasn’t us ,” wheezed Charlie, in desperation. “It wasn’t even our grandfathers’ grandfathers.”
But Wodziwob took no notice. “Let me tell you what they did, these white soldiers. They took five prisoners, including Chief Si-e-ta. Their Indian scouts took thorn branches and pulled their eyes out onto their cheeks. Then they bound them together, and told them to walk to the edge of the rimrock and keep on walking.
“It is six hundred feet to the valley floor below.”
Mickey said, in a haunted voice, “You’re not expecting us to do the same?”
Wodziwob circled around them, prodding each of them with his finger. “If I did, would you not call that justice? What does it say in your holy book? ‘Life for life, eye for eye’?”
Cayley started to cry again, inconsolably, like a miserable child.
Wodziwob said, “Don’t you think that we cried, too, when our children were killed?”
C HAPTER S EVEN
Washington, DC
After twenty minutes, Dr. Schaumberg and Dr. Henry came into the room, followed by Dr. Cronin.
“David, the doctors are back,” said the First Lady, taking hold of the president’s hand.
Dr.
Similar Books
