Brother Van

by Stella Wyatt Brummitt

One day when White Plume was chief of the Blackfeet and Piegan tribes, camp was made and the evening meal was prepared. Into this busy and picturesque scene came the preacher, and with the aid of an interpreter, he started to speak the good tidings to these people of the plains. The Indians were interested and listened respectfully. Suddenly a runner came quietly but swiftly into the group and uttered an Indian word. Instantly the audience dissolved.They went so quickly that the astonished preacher inquired of the interpreter as to the reason of their going. There was reason enough. While these people were listening to Brother Van, the Crow Indians, a rival tribe, had come and driven off the ponies which had been turned out to graze for the night.

When the preacher understood the plight of the Blackfeet, he offered his own fleet pony to them that they might overtake the raiders. Brother Van always had a good horse. The herd was easily overtaken and turned back to the camp. Then, much to the surprise of Brother Van, the Indians returned to the place of meeting and indicated that they wished the service to proceed.

Early on the following morning a messenger came to Brother Van telling him that the Blackfeet were going on a buffalo hunt, and a formal invitation was delivered requesting him to accompany them. Taking his sure-footed pony, Brother Van joined the riders, and soon the excitement of their hunt was on. An Indian honor was then conferred on this, their well-loved guest. After the herd of buffalowas sighted and had been started on the run, the Indians signified that the white man was to have the distinction of killing the magnificent specimen which was leading the herd. Riding toward the front of the stampeding beasts, the unskilled marksman picked out the herd leader and shot him in the head. It was a great shot. An Indian could have done no better. The herd was a large one, containing nearly one thousand of the great, brown giants of the plains. Once more the preacher by his prowess had won the favor of the Blackfeet.

With such experiences as the buffalo hunt, an Indian feast, a hurried visit to the bed of the sick or dying, and the preaching of the gospel, the years passed. After serving five years as a missionary at large without ordination, Brother Van consented to become a Conference Member, that is to say, a regularly ordained traveling-preacher according to Conference rules. The first missionary appropriation ever made to Montana Conference was given to Brother Van when he became the first regular supply. That allowance was three hundred and twenty-five dollars. He was given theSun River and Smith River charge as his first aggressive work in North Montana.

So the Methodist circuit-rider started out once more on his pony with his little all in his saddle-bags. A journey was still one of many hazards, for Indians were everywhere and any sign of fear would have been fatal, while any weakness would have met with scorn from the cowboys. Brother Van visited Sun River, a settlement on the overland freight trail between Helena and Fort Benton, where he organized the first Methodist church north of the mountains. First, Brother Van held a meeting in this settlement and then started a church building. Afterward, he had to rescue the church from the sheriff’s hammer, but, finally, he completed the building—assuming responsibility for the rest of the debt. By and by there came a great day when he preached the dedication sermon of a church free from debt.

To this very settlement at Sun River, the tenderfoot Easterner had come with the Adjutant from Fort Shaw shortly after his arrival in Montana several years before, and had announced his desire to hold a service. Theservice had been held in the cabin home of Mr. Charles A. Bull. Now, as an experienced plainsman and missionary, Brother Van came again and built a church, over which through the busy years since then, he has kept loving watch.

In Philbrook, Judith Basin, Brother Van found that Indians were stealing horses and terrifying settlers. Prowling bands of raiders were scattered all through the region. Again the scout-preacher was frequently in danger as he went about his ministry. Riding one day along the bank of the Cut Bank River, he saw a powerful Indian in full war-regalia, making rapidly toward the crossing to which he, too, was going. Believing that discretion was the better part of valor, Brother Van turned his horse into a coulee, and rode hastily into the deep shelter of the ravine. From that vantage ground an approaching enemy was at the mercy of the watcher.

The Indian pursued him to the entrance and then gave up the chase. Had he known that the white man was unarmed, this history might never have been written, for the Indian was outto get revenge upon the whites, and the story of his pursuit afterward created nation-wide interest. It is a gruesome story, but has much of value as it reveals some reasons for the Indian traits which our government has not always understood in the past.

The first scene was enacted when a troop of United States soldiers under Colonel Baker who were quelling Indian troubles, came into an Indian village while the braves were out raiding. They laid waste the camp and killed some three hundred women and children. When the Indian men returned they found desolation, and, of course, could not understand the reason. All that they could think of doing was to set forth again on a raid of devastation. One big brave, Spoo Pee, made a vow to kill the first white man he met, for had not the white men taken the life of his aged mother?

The other scene was enacted when a Canadian prospector having seen enough of western life came down from the North on his way to the nearest railway station that he might return to his home in the East. He drove afine team hitched to a good wagon. As he journeyed he met two Indians, one a big brave, the other a stripling of a boy. The Canadian asked his way. The Indian offered himself as a guide to the wealthy traveler and as such was accepted.