They were much affected. The father’s chief objection, I think, was to prospective loss of ten acres of land; the mother’s, the companionship and services of her daughter, added to a mother’s anxiety for the welfare of her child. She shed some real tears, woman-like.
The father said, when he would wake up in the
morning and call “Lucy,” she could not hear him, and that he would be compelled to go for his horse when he wanted to ride. Lucy had always done that kind of work for him.
The conference was protracted, for I recognized in this affair a precedent that might be of great importance to the Indians of Grand Round Agency hereafter. I foresee, in the future, some stony-hearted Indian hater, scowling while he reads this mention of sentiment and feeling on the part of Indians. Scowl on, you cold-blooded, one-sided, pale-face, protected in your life, your rights, and even your affections, by a great, strong Government!
Finally, all the parties interested were taken into the council. The mother put some pertinent questions to Leander.
“Do you ever drink whiskey? Do you gamble? Will you whip Lucy when you are mad? Will you let her come to see me when she wants to?”
Leander’s answers were satisfactory, and, I think, sincere. He promised, as many a white boy has to his sweetheart’s mother, what he would not have done to a mother-in-law. That relationship changes the courage, and loosens the tongue of many a man.
Lucy was not slow to speak her mind on the subject. “Leander, Clat-a-wa-o-koke-Sun-Siletz. E-li-he, hi-ka-tum-tum, ni-ak-clut-a-wa. (Leander goes to Siletz, my heart will go with him, to-day.) Ni-ka-wake-clut-or-wa-niker, min-a-lous.” (“If I don’t go, I will die.”) This settled the question.
Being the first marriage under the new law, it was decided to make it a precedent that would have proper influence on subsequent weddings. The ladies resident
at the agency, were informed of the affair, and requested to assist the bride in making preparations for the ceremony.