Chapter 10

Long Hand was chief deputy among the Sonora special deputy federal marshals and spent much of his time with Nathan Ulney, the sheriff for Sonora County, within which the Sonora reservation was located. Ulney was also a special federal deputy marshal and was the technical supervisor of the six-man Sonora force. That group was created for the primary duty of safeguarding the silver mine, which was in a remote location on the reservation. Its rich ore had been subject to organized theft over the prior two years.

The special deputies only had authority on the reservation proper. To get around that stricture, Long Hand and his brother, Stream-In-Winter, had been sworn in as auxiliary -- meaning unpaid -- Sonora County sheriff’s deputies. That allowed their authority to be extended to other parts of the county, if Ulney and his regular deputies needed help.

Long Hand, in his mid-thirties, was a senior member of the tribe and was growing in prominence among the People as a voice of reason in dealing with the whites and with the changes brought on by the silver mine. He had been able to explain new concepts and white-man thinking in terms his fellow clan members could at least understand, if not appreciate.

Money and privately-owned land were foreign concepts to the Sonora, as they had been to most North American native clans. The natives looked at land as a group resource, no more able to be privately owned than the air they breathed or the sunlight that grew the corn and squash. In its way, land ownership seemed silly to the People, like pointing at a cloud in the sky and shouting, “That cloud is mine!” That, among other things, such as their abject devotion to gold and silver, made the white man seem ridiculous, not to be respected.

Long Hand brought some antelope jerky in a leather pouch, which he laid on the table as the group re-assembled. Everyone reached for some, as Long Hand’s wife was known to use a tasty, salty, honey-spice mixture to season the meat before smoking.

After a round of appreciative comments about the jerky, Malik said, “There is a word from an ancient white man language called Latin. That word is corpus, it means body, as in a human body. The word corpse comes from that Latin word. That word, corpus, also grows into the bigger word, corpor-ation. When white men come together to share a business, such as Montgomery Ward or the Kansas and Arizona Southern Railroad, they may have an agreement that is called a corporation. It means that, together, they speak and act as if they were just one person, one body. It is a way of thinking about groups that helps the white man get along with one another.

Long Hand said, “Like a hunting party working together, or the Sonora deputies working together to guard the mine.”

“Very much like that. My concern is, will a corporation of red men be accepted by the white man government, accepted by white man courts?”

“I looked at the law, the Dawes Act, during our recess,” Morton Quincy said. “It says that any Indian that lives on their allotment becomes a citizen of the state where their allotment is and a citizen of the United States. Of course, it means they also become responsible to pay taxes.”

Malik acknowledged Quincy’s information. “Yes, thanks, I’ll have to look at that again. It’s just that there’s such a history of disregard for the rights of anyone who isn’t white in this country, and even some white groups have trouble. Jews, or the Irish are examples of whites who have organized opposition limiting their full enfranchisement, at least in the practical.”

“Yes, Shadow. Even Red Salt came to realize that we easily hate others who are different from us, just because they are different,” Long Hand observed, referencing a conversation the year before, during the Indian deputies’ training.

Malik acknowledged Long Hand with a nod. “I suppose we’ll just have to take our chances, because incorporating is the only protection I can come up with. It’s just that the mood in Washington City, the home of the white fathers, it’s, uh, ... they’re excited about this new way to ... well, to destroy an important part of red man culture. Going back on the citizenship promise or limiting its effect does not seem all that far-fetched to me.”

Walks-On-Sand said something in Sonora to Blue Maize. Blue Maize looked at Long Hand with a questioning expression. Long Hand nodded slowly and spoke, again in Sonora.

Blue Maize turned to Malik and asked, “What if the cor-por-ra-tion was not just of the People? What if some white eyes were part of the body?”

Emmet Quincy said, “What about that, Shadow?”

After a moment’s reflection, Malik said, “The only way I could see it having a telling effect is if the two required corporate board officers, the president and the secretary, were filled by whites. It still wouldn’t be a guarantee.”

“What is this ‘board,’ Shadow?” Blue Maize asked.

“Board means this,” Malik replied, patting the table top, “the boards of a table around which men meet. But more, it means a group of men sitting together, as we are, discussing things and making decisions. The board of directors makes the decisions for the corporation, much like the Sonora elder’s make decisions for the tribe. It is also similar to the silver mine trust, where you and the elders’ council are the trustees. The council decides what to do with the money from the silver mine for the People. You would be the president of the trustees and Walks-On-Sand would be the secretary, if the council were a corporation board of directors.”

“So, you are saying that white leaders would make the corporation be accepted by the whites?” Blue Maize asked.

“Perhaps. Under white man law, once he is living on an allotment, any Indian should be accepted. I remain doubtful, however, just from history and experience, and would not want the People to be the group to learn of more white fathers’ treachery.”

Blue Maize said, “I agree. It is our land that the white fathers want, not us sitting down at their table to help make decisions. Even if they treated with us in the ways of men, they could still confuse us with white man words. But, if corporation is our best choice, then it should be made more certain with whites: You, Shadow, or Friend Quincy, or your brother, Yellow Hair. There may be others, Sheriff Ulney, perhaps.”

“You honor all of us with your trust. But what you said before, Blue Maize, about a corporation being the best solution, I’m not so certain. In truth, it’s only the best solution that I can think of. There may be better protections. I did not have time to consult my law partners or my friend Raul Castillo. I will do that before going ahead with a corporation and will tell you what they say.”

“That is good, Shadow. But what of Friend Quincy, here? He may soon lose his work. We would not want him wandering our streets, begging for food scraps. It would frighten the tourists,” Blue Maize said, with a straight face, though the others were hiding grins.

“I have already spoken with your wife, Blue Maize. She said that she would hire me to cook for you,” Morton Quincy fired back.

“Then I would be on the streets, begging for scraps,” the chief lamented.

Malik brought them back on topic. “In fact, I’ve had some thoughts about that, none of them involving cooking or begging,” Malik said. “I had planned to mention them to Mister Quincy first, though.”

“That’s quite all right, Shadow. What did you have in mind?” Quincy allowed.

“With Blue Maize’s permission, I would have you take charge of the mining business in my place. If this other corporation plan is the best idea, then I could take that on, with my brother or with some other white man the People trust.”

“Intriguing,” Quincy admitted.

“That is a fine idea, Shadow,” Blue Maize said.

“You would be satisfied with Friend Quincy taking my place in overseeing the mine business, Blue Maize?”

“I would, Shadow, and I believe the elders will agree. Friend Quincy would also be at that work every day, another argument for him to take over.”

“Morton? What do you think?” Malik asked.

“I am very interested. If I am released by the Bureau, it would allow me to pursue much the same goals.”

“Well, then, the Bureau of Indian Affairs’ loss will be our gain.

“That brings me to a third strategy,” Malik looked around the room to be sure all understood the term, “one that I think could help protect the People. It is an idea that came to me when we looked at the map to talk about allotments. It is why I went to send a telegram and a letter.

“I think it would be helpful if the People were to have a strong friend, another corporation that would share the interests of the People, a corporation friend who would think that some things important to the people are also important to them. I’m thinking of the railroad, specifically, the Kansas and Arizona Southern or the Kanzona, as we’ve been calling it lately.”

Walks-On-Sand said, “I like that word, Kanzona. But would not being friends with them invite coyote into the tipi? Are not the railroads hungry for land?”

“Yes, most are. The Kanzona, too. They control much land in the Dry Valleys and out on the prairie, and they have plans to acquire more land, perhaps some of the land that the People will be forced to abandon. But they will not buy that land unless the government forces you to give it up. And if they do buy it, they are always a good neighbor. They will not try to take more of your land and they will not steal your sheep or horses. They always give a fair trade or a fair price. They protect the water and the land. I believe that they would let you hunt on the land, if it is worth hunting there, but I cannot promise that without talking to the Kanzona board of directors, a board where I sit as one of their elders’ council.”

Then Malik added, “But you already know this railroad. You have leased them some land for their new railroad to the mines. Do you feel cheated by them? Were you not shown respect by their agents? Have your people been abused?”

“No, Shadow,” Blue Maize said. “The agents of the Kanzona stand straight and speak clearly. Our marshals are treated like men when they go among the railroad workers. You believe that they would make a strong friend?”

“Yes, stronger than me and my brother, if it came to an argument with the government. But there are much stronger corporations, too, like the Southern Pacific Railroad or the Santa Fe Railroad. They are both richer and more powerful. But they are not interested in becoming your neighbor. The Kansas and Arizona Southern Railroad does want to be your neighbor. Then you will drink water from the same well and be rained on by the same storms.”

Walks-On-Sand asked, “You have joined those white men at their board table? They are worthy of your trust?”

“Yes, Shaman, I do trust them. And they are not just white men. Their leader is a yellow man of China. There are three other white men, besides me, and there is a Negro woman, and a chief of the Fort Haysbert Arapaho clan. I admire them very much.”

Blue Maize said, “A woman sits with your council?”

“Yes, Chief. She is a lawyer, like me. She is as smart as the wife of Walks-On-Sand.”

“But not smart enough to run from the council, like Moccasin Woman,” Blue Maize quipped.

“That may well be,” Malik said. “If we asked her to sit with us to talk of our problems, would Moccasin Woman do so?”

Walks-On-Sand said, “You would ask my woman to sit with us?”

“Why not? Especially if she is as smart as you and Blue Maize have been bragging.”

There was a brief exchange, in Sonora, between the chief and the shaman. Finally, Blue Maize addressed himself to Long Hand. Long Hand replied, after which Blue Maize sat silently for a few moments.

When he spoke, then, Blue Maize said, “We three agree that a woman’s thoughts, at least from some women, would be good for the talk at this table. We also agree that women’s thoughts could be good at the council fire. Against that would be the traditions of our clan and the council members who would oppose it. At this table, we can blame the white men for bringing in a woman. But it is not the time for a woman at the council fire.”

Malik asked, “What if the women had their own council?”

Walks-On-Sand replied, “They would be treated as a sheep carrying a bow and quiver.”

“What is it that makes women unworthy of sitting at the council fire? What is the reason for the tradition?”

The shaman said, “Women are thought to be feeble-minded. Their counsel sometimes makes no sense. That is more true in important decisions, as for war or for deciding the punishment of those who do wrong. And they also become angry and unreasonable when there is no cause for such.”

Malik said, “One thing I learned from my dear wife, Gabriela, who you called Rides-With-Men, was that women think differently than men, in the same way that men think differently from one another. As you have yourself seen on your council, some elders are willing to try new things and others refuse to accept change of any sort. But you do not think the elders are feeble-minded when they disagree and tell of their thoughts. You know that they give more importance to traditions because it helps them live in the world.

“Women, too, think differently among themselves, but women, as a part of the People, also sometimes see things differently than the men, as a part of the People.

Walks-On-Sand said, “Red men and white men think differently, even you and I, Shadow, yet we can still talk together and make decisions. Even if you are feeble-minded.”

The shaman’s quip reduced some of the tension that had built around a topic that the Sonora held nearly sacred.

Malik, chuckling, said, “But it is my feeble mind that helps me explain the feeble minds of the white men who always push into the lives of the People.”

Morton Quincy suggested, “Perhaps we should call an end to this meeting for today. If you want to, Blue Maize, then ask Moccasin Woman to join us tomorrow. It will give you time to tell her what we talked about today. I believe Yellow Hair Brother will also attend, so this table will not be big enough for everyone.”

Malik said, “I will also invite my partner, Wil Bream, to see if he can have a better idea than making a corporation.”

Blue Maize said, “We could sit on the floor and let you whites sit at the table. We are used to not being on chairs.”

Before Malik could voice his protest, Quincy said, “That would not do, Blue Maize. You are the chief. It is a white man custom to not sit higher than the honored leader. Perhaps we all can sit on the floor.”

Blue Maize said, “It is your work house, Friend Quincy. We will sit as you wish.”

The group reassembled at two o’clock the next afternoon. Even then, introductions took over five minutes.

Andy Malik, Moccasin Woman, Wil Bream, and David Lewin joined the group. Lewin invited himself, he informed Malik, in part because he felt he ought to, as a member of the Malik, Lewin & Bream legal team, and so that he could learn more about the Sonora and the problems they faced. Also, he was keeping the quarterly tax accounts and balance account for the Sonora Mining Corporation, so his interest was more than just academic.

After disembarking from the train, in the half hour before the meeting resumed, Malik had the newcomers to his business car and had described the problems related to the Dawes Act and those anticipated as the result of the likely appointment of a new Indian agent.

Everyone assembled in the Indian agency’s large, mostly empty, outer office and seated themselves on the floor. Blue Maize and Walks-On-Sand provided blankets for all the whites, though Malik, Morton Quincy, and his nephew had brought their own.

After the introductions between the new participants and those returning, all fell silent and looked to Blue Maize. The chief carefully trimmed and lit a cigar, taking several draws. Finally, he said, “It warms my heart to see the white men who would help us deal with white man problems. Let us speak of those problems. Shadow, speak more about corporation.”