“Finally she came to my white mother’s home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO MY OLD SHOSHONE FRIENDS
“What became of your old Indian mother, Washakie, Hanabi, and the rest?” This question has been asked me again and again. “Did you ever see them again?” “What other experiences did you have with the Indians?” Such queries as these have been sent to me from even far-off France by people who have read the first edition of my little book.
To satisfy my readers on these points and others that may be of interest, I have added a few more chapters to my story.
When I left my dear old Indian mother up north on “Pohogoy,” or Ross Fork,—a place near the Snake River,—I promised her I would come back to her. That promise I intended to keep; but I was prevented from doing so by other pressing duties, till it was too late.
She waited a year for her “Yagaki” to return, then her sorrow became so great she couldn’t bear it longer and she started out to hunt me up. The Indians told me later that after I had been gone a few months my old mother would roam off in the mountains and lonely places and stay until hunger would drive her home. Finally she came to my white mother’s home in Grantsville to find her boy. My mother made her welcome, taking my Indian mother into her home, feeding her, and providing her with a room as one of the family.
Then she wrote me that my two mothers wanted me to come home. I wished with all my heart to do so, but at that time I was about five hundred miles away, out on the mail line, badly wounded in the head by an Indian arrow. When I recovered enough to travel, I had to go to work again. The Indians at this time were burning stations and killing men every chance they got. Riders became so scarce and hard to get that I could not well leave, no matter how I felt.
When I finally did get away, I found that my own mother, as I have said before, had moved into Cache Valley, and my old Indian mother had left her, broken-hearted because she had not found her papoose. She had stayed with my white mother for more than two months. When I did not return as she expected, she grew suspicious that my white mother had hidden me away; and no words could comfort her or change her mind. Finally she went off with some Indians who came there.
My mother urged me to hunt her up. She had taken quite a fancy to the Indian woman. She thought it my duty to find and care for her the rest of her life. I felt so too. She had been a dear friend to me. She had cared for me and protected me from harm, even saving my life several times.