Cassie Edwards, "Savage Whispers" (1989)

[wombat1138]

This is one of Edwards' older books, and it shows: presumably she wasn't yet able to coast on her reputation (and was twenty years younger), so the prose actually has some description and flow, and the plot is noticeably more complex-- compared to her recent routine, it's almost mindbogglingly frenetic.

The sex scenes in this book add up to about 50 pages out of 312. IMHO no self-respecting sex scene should use the word "tummy". Let's not even get into the repeated phrase "the upper lobes of her breasts", which, when remarked upon to the wombat-consort, inspired comparisons to Eccentrica Gallumbits.

The latest SMTB list has one lonely citation for the 2000 reprint of SW, from N. Scott Momaday's The Way to Rainy Mountain (University of New Mexico Press, 1969; abbreviated below as WRM). I was working from an original edition of Savage Whispers (Charter Books, July 1989), but the more recent Dorchester reprint seems to preserve the same pagination.

Edwards makes extensive use of Momaday's book (abbreviated below as WRM), as well as his article/essay "A First American Views His Land", first published with various photos as pp 13-19 National Geographic, Vol. 150 No.1, July 1976, and later reprinted (text-only) in his anthology The Man Made of Words, McMillan 1998 (abbreviated below as FAVL; page #s are via antho MMW or magazine NG).

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Here's the one that was already marked by SBTB.

Savage Whispers, p. 8:

Kohanah wore tight-fitting, fringed leggings and a fringed buckskin jacket that went over his head. His high moccasins were made of the softest, cream-colored skins. On each instep there was a bright disc of beadwork-- an eight-pointed star, red and pale blue on a white field-- and there were bands of beadwork at the soles and ankles. The flaps of his leggings were wide and richly ornamented with blue, red, green, white, and lavender beads.

N. Scott Momaday, WRM p. 83:

Aho's high moccasins are made of [sic] softest, cream-colored skins. On each instep there is a bright disc of beadwork-- an eight-pointed star, red and pale-blue on a white field-- and there are bands of beadwork at the soles and ankles. The flaps of the leggings are wide and richly ornamented with blue and red and green and white and lavender beads.

Since Momaday's book is still under copyright, only a very limited portion is accessible through Google Books. A hypertext version does exist at http://students.english.ilstu.edu//rctrava/momadaywebsite/booktocs/wtrmentry.html , but only covers about the first half of the book (-> p 39) w/o retaining page numbers and isn't searchable. For the purposes of correlation, I'll try to add the proper section names from there into my cites, when available.

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SW p 2 (author's note):

After a bloody fight at Palo Duro Canyon, the Kiowa came in, a few at a time, to surrender at Fort Sill in Oklahoma. Their horses and weapons were confiscated and they were imprisoned. In a field just west of the post, the Indian ponies were destroyed. Nearly eight hundred horses were killed outright. Two thousand more were sold, stolen, and given away.

Momaday, WRM p. 67:

After the fight at Palo Duro Canyon, the Kiowas came in, a few at a time, to surrender at Fort Sill. Their horses and weapons were confiscated, and they were imprisoned. In a field just west of the post, the Indian ponies were destroyed. Nearly 800 horses were killed outright; two thousand more were sold, stolen, given away.

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SW p. 8 (draped around the initial Momaday cite):

He had fine classical features. A striking figure of a man, he was tall and lean, yet powerful and fully developed.

He was lithe and surely knew beyond any doubt of his great strength and vigor. He stood perfectly at ease. In his face there was a calm and goodwill, and intelligence. His dark hair was drawn close to the scalp and his braids were worn long down his perfectly straight back, and wound with strips of colored cloth.
[SBTB paragraph here]

[...]There was a look of bemused and infinite tolerance in his eyes, and Marilla had to wonder how any white men could have hated him, or those like him.

SW p 117:

Letting her gaze absorb Kohanah's handsomeness, she saw his long hair drawn close to his scalp, fat having been rubbed into his hair to make it glisten, his long braids wound with strips of colored cloth.

Momaday, WRM 53:

They have fine classical features, and in this respect they resemble more closely the tribes of the north than those of the south.

Catlin's portrait of Kotsatoah is the striking figure of a man, tall and lean, yet powerful and fully developed. He is lithe, and he knows beyond any doubt of his great strength and vigor. He stands perfectly at ease, the long drape of his robe flowing with the lines of his body. His left hand rests upon his shield and holds a bow and arrows. His head is set firmly, and there is a look of bemused and infinite tolerance in his eyes.

WRM p. 73 (describing Momaday's grandfather):

In his face there is calm and good will, strength and intelligence. His hair is drawn close to the scalp, and his braids are long and wrapped in fur.

WRM p. 11:

They rubbed fat upon their hair and wound their braids with strips of colored cloth.

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SW p. 12:

"But the great tribal ceremony of the Kadom or Sun Dance, which is commonly celebrated annually when the down appears on the cottonwoods, will surely be postponed with the best of the Kiowa warriors imprisoned."

Claude Levi-Strauss (transl. John and Dorren Weightman), University of Chicago Press 1990 (http://books.google.com/books?id=y9dkNi0Rwg4C), p. 258:

The Kiowa [...] associate this myth, as do their Plains neighbours, with the sun-dance. They perform the latter every year "when the down appears on the cottonwoods," that is, about the middle of June (Mooney 2, p. 242).

In the Levi-Strauss endnotes, "Mooney 2" is identified as "Calendar History of the Kiowa Indians" by James Mooney, 17th ARBAE, part I (1895-9), Washington DC, 1898; note that even this small phrase is properly credited here.

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SW pp 15-16:

From somewhere close by, an Indian was praying aloud. It tore at Marilla's heart... at her inner being, for there was something inherently sad in the sound, some merest hesitation upon the syllables of sorrow.

The prayer began in a high and descending pitch, exhausting the Indian's breath to silence; then again and again, and always in the same intensity of effort, of something that was, and was not, like urgency in the human voice.

The Indian seemed beyond the reach of time...

In cases where I've color-coded some source text without bolding it, as in the initial phrase below, that's because it hasn't been used in the preceding section from Edwards but will show up in another Edwards passage later.

Momaday WRM pp. 10-11 ("Introduction"):

Her long, black hair, always drawn and braided in the day, lay upon her shoulders and against her breasts like a shawl. I do not speak Kiowa, and I never understood her prayers, but there was something inherently sad in the sound, some merest hesitation upon the syllables of sorrow. She began in a high and descending pitch, exhausting her breath to silence; then again and again--and always the same intensity of effort, of something that is, and is not, like urgency in the human voice. Transported so in the dancing light among the shadows of her room, she seemed beyond the reach of time. But that was illusion; I think I knew then that I should not see her again.

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SW p 26:

"Father, warfare for the Kiowa was primarily a matter of disposition rather than of survival," she continued, her cheeks glowing from the courage she had found to speak so openly of her intense feelings for the Indians. "And they never understood the grim, unrelenting advance of the United States cavalry. It was their sense of destiny, courage, and pride that made them continue to fight for their rights."

Momaday, WRM p 6 ("Introduction"):

But warfare for the Kiowa was pre-eminently a matter of disposition rather than of survival, and they never understood the grim, unrelenting advance of the U.S. cavalry.

[...]Not least, they acquired the sense of destiny, therefore courage and pride.

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SW pp 40-41:

"When I was little, my parents would tell me that if I didn't go to sleep they would call the owl to take me away," Kohanah said, looking dreamily into the distance, as though reliving the moment in time he was thinking about. "One night they told me to go to bed, but I didn't. I wanted to stay up with the older people."

He laid the banana aside, chuckling. "My father said, 'All right, we are going to sing an owl song. Just watch through the door and you will see an owl,'" he said, his eyes twinkling. "Kohanah did. As father sang the song, I saw something standing there, something with big eyes."

[...]"It was my cousin. He was outside the tipi and he heard my parents trying to make me sleep. He took some kind of a pan and painted it like an owl face. That is what I saw in the doorway."

Kohanah nodded slowly. "I did not know then that it was my cousin. I went to bed right away. After that, whenever my father or mother sang that song, I went right to bed."

[...]"You see, the Kiowa children were disciplined by frightening them in this matter. The owl is considered an exceedingly dangerous creature. It is said that looking at an owl can cause distortion of facial features and bring illness. Owls are regarded as malevolent ghosts of deceased persons, returning to earth to haunt and torment the living."

Jim Whitewolf and Charles S. Brant, The Autobiography of a Kiowa Apache Indian, Courier Dover Publications 1991 (reprint; http://books.google.com/books?id=Vg-kEHcN7AkC); p 47:

When I was little, my folks would tell me that if I didn't go to sleep they would call the owl to take me away. One night they told me to go to bed, but I just kept running around. They said, "All right, we are going to sing an owl song. Just watch through the door." I saw something enter the door, something with big eyes. What happened was that my cousin was outside, and he heard them telling me to go to sleep. He took some kind of a pan and painted it like an owl face. That is what I saw in the doorway[14]. I went right to bed. After that, whenever they sang that song, I went right to bed.

[footnote 14]: Children were sometimes disciplined by frightening them in this matter. The owl was considered by the Kiowa Apache to be an exceedingly dangerous creature. Informants stated that owls were never used by any practical purpose; if killed, they were simply thrown away. It was thought that looking at owls could cause distortion of facial features and bring illness. Owls were conceived as malevolent ghosts of deceased persons, returning to earth to haunt and torment the living.

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SW p 41:

"Nuakolahe, meaning 'earth he made it,' is our Great Spirit," Kohanah said proudly. "To him is attributed the creation of the earth, its geographic features, and its human, plant and animal inhabitants."

Whitewolf and Brant, hardcopy edition of initial publication, Dover Publications 1969 p. 5:

There was a rather vague, generalized conceptualization of a deity which the Kiowa Apache called nuakolahe, literally, "earth he made it." To him was attributed the creation of the earth, its geographic features and its human, plant and animal inhabitants.

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These next few sets are somewhat complex, since Edwards kept breaking up and interweaving a few favorite passages.

SW p 83:

Ah, Oklahoma! The sun follows a long course in the day and the sky is immense beyond all comparison. The land itself ascends into the sky. The meadow is bright with Indian paintbrush, lupine, and buckwheat. High in the branches of a lodgepine pole a male pine grosbeak is perched, round and rose-colored, its dark, striped wings invisible in the soft, mottled light. The uppermost branches of the tree seem very slowly to ride across the blue sky.

Always there are winds...

Momaday, WRM p 7 ("introduction"):

In July the inland slope of the Rockies is luxuriant with flax and buckwheat, stonecrop and larkspur. The earth unfolds and the limit of the land recedes. Clusters of trees, and animals grazing far in the distance, cause the vision to reach away and wonder to build upon the land. The sun follows a longer course in the day, and the sky is immense beyond all comparison. The great billowing clouds that sail upon it are shadows that move upon the grain like water, dividing light.

Momaday, WRM p 23 ("IV: Into the Sky" and "IV: Branches"):

There the land itself ascends into the sky.[...]

I have walked in a mountain meadow bright with Indian paintbrush, lupine, and wild buckwheat, and I have seen high in the branches of a lodgepole pine the male pine grosbeak, round and rose-colored, its dark, striped wings nearly invisible in the soft, mottled light. And the uppermost branches of the tree seemed very slowly to ride across the blue sky.

Momaday, WRM p 49:

At times the plains are bright and calm and quiet; at times they are black with the sudden violence of weather. Always there are winds.

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SW p 84:

Marilla looked across the vastness of the land, at the long yellow grass shining in the bright light, reaching clean away, out of sight. Loneliness seemed to be an aspect of the land. All things on the plains were isolated. There was no confusion of objects before the eye, but perhaps one hill or one tree. To look upon the landscape with the sun at one's back was to lose all sense of proportion.

Marilla's imagination had seemed to come to life, and this, she thought, surely was where Creation had begun.

Momaday, WRM p 12 ("Introduction"):

It was already hot, and the grasshoppers began to fill the air. Still, it was early in the morning, and the birds sang out of the shadows. The long yellow grass on the mountain shone in the bright light, and a scissortail hied above the land. There, where it ought to be, at the end of a long and legendary way, was my grandmother's grave.

Momaday, WRM p 5 ("Introduction"):

Loneliness is an aspect of the land. All things in the plain are isolate; there is no confusion of objects in the eye, but one hill or one tree or one man. To look upon that landscape in the early morning, with the sun at your back, is to lose the sense of proportion. Your imagination comes to life, and this, you think, is where Creation was begun.

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SW p 88:

The house was low and drab, its color worn away in wind and rain, the wood burned gray so that the grain showed, the nails turned red with rust. The windowpanes were black and opaque....

[...]Looking slowly about her, she could from this vantage point see downhill to a pecan grove, a dense, dark growth along a meandering stream and, beyond, the long sweep of the earth itself, curving out beneath the sky. Great billowing clouds sailing upon the heavens were shadows that moved upon the ground like water, blocking the light. She was in awe of a scissortail as it soared above a tree.

Momaday, WRM p 11:

All colors wear away soon in wind and rain, and then the wood is burned gray and the grain appears and the nails turn red with rust. The windowpanes are black and opaque; you imagine there is nothing within, and indeed there are many ghosts, bones given up to the land.

WRM p 61:

Some of my earliest memories are of the summers on Rainy Mountain Creek, when we lived in the arbor, on the north side of my grandmother's house. From there you could see downhill to the pecan grove, the dense, dark growth along the water, and beyond, the long sweep of the earth itself, curving out on the sky.

[Also cf sources for SW p 83 and SW p 84.]

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SW p 98:

Her long blond[sic] hair had loosened from its bun and now lay upon her shoulders and against her breasts like a wondrous golden shawl.

Cf. refs for SW 15-16; and thus Momaday's memories of his grandmother at prayer are transformed to a bland blonde fixation.

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SW p 110:

"[...]The sacred Sun Dance, in truth, is an expression of veneration of the sun as the source of life and the promoter of growth and well-being of all living things. It reaffirms tribal unity. The dance is a quest for power, spiritual energy, and insight.[...]"

"The buffalo bull in his strength and majesty is regarded as the animal symbol of the sun. In order to consummate the ancient sacrifice, it is required of the Kiowa to impale the head of a buffalo bull upon the medicine pole!"

Tom McHugh, The Time of the Buffalo, U of Nebraska Press 1979 (http://books.google.com/books?id=xSbrXXh0lWMC), pp 111:

Religion among the Kiowa knew no Great Spirit, no heaven, no hell, but was instead a shadowy world of ghosts, witches, and assorted offerings and totems.[...] Their greatest god was the Sun, by whom they swore, and to whom they made sacrifices of their own flesh. Next in order of reverence were the buffalo bull and the peyote plant: the peyote was the Sun's vegetal representative, the buffalo in his strength and majesty its animal symbol.

(The initial sentence of McHugh is particularly interesting in light of SW 41; Edwards does take great pains every time to portray her tribe du jour as essentially monotheistic beyond the animistic trappings.)

Momaday, WRM p 10 ("Introduction"):

She was about seven when the last Kiowa Sun Dance was held in 1887 on the Washita River above Rainy Mountain Creek. The buffalo were gone. In order to consummate the ancient sacrifice--to impale the head of a buffalo bull upon the medicine tree--a delegation of old men journeyed into Texas, there to beg and barter for an animal from the Goodnight herd.

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SW p 111:

"[...]You will see how I feel about not only my people but also the land! I love the land. I see that it is beautiful. I delight in it. I am alive in it!"

[Don't ask me why she decided to emphasize the word "in". I don't know.]

Momaday, FAVL (NG p18):

As an Indian I think, "You say that I use the land, and I reply, yes, that is true; but it is not the first truth. The first truth is that I love the land. I see that it is beautiful; I delight in it; I am alive in it."

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SW p 116:

The early sun was as red as a hunter's moon. It was dawn-- cold and clear and deep like water.[...]

Gazing into the distance, looking across the land, she saw the low light upon the rolling plains illuminating sweet clover as it took hold of the hills and was bending upon itself to cover and seal the soil. She could feel the motion of the air. She could hear the early morning songs of the birds out of the shadows.

Momaday, WRM p. 89 (post-epilogue poem "Rainy Mountain Cemetery"):

The early sun, red as a hunter's moon,
Runs in the plain.

WRM p. 47:

There, at dawn, you can feel the silence. It is cold and clear and deep like water.

WRM pp 11-12 ("introduction"):

And afterwards, when the quiet returned, I lay down with my grandmother and could hear the frogs away by the river and feel the motion of the air.

[...]From there I could see out across the land; I could see the long row of trees by the creek, the low light upon the rolling plains, and the stars of the Big Dipper.

WRM 7 ("Introduction"):

Sweet clover takes hold of the hills and bends upon itself to cover and seal the soil.

[Also cf. sources for SW 84.]

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SW p 119:

The sun had moved higher in the sky, brightening everything about Marilla. Under any circumstances other than what seemed a death march back to the reservation, she could have enjoyed the meadows of blue and yellow wildflowers on the slopes, and the still, sunlit plain reaching away out of sight.

Just ahead, a frightened buck was on the run, the white rosette of its rump seeming to hang for the smallest fraction of time at the top of each frantic bound, like a succession of sunbursts against the purple hills.

And then Marilla was following a dirt road alongside Kohanah. Her heart lurched in her throat when she caught sight of a tarantula at the edge of the road. It was larger than she could have imagined, dull and dark brown, covered with long, dusty hairs.

Seeing it made shivers ride up and down Marilla's spine, yet there was something innocent... something crochety... about it as it stopped and then skittered away.

SW pp 284-285:

She forgot her passing brief feeling of queasiness, and her eyes widened in horror when she saw that the earth was suddenly crawling with spiders. They were great tarantulas swarming over the land near the water, ther silky webs woven over little wells in the ground.

These tarantulas were even larger than others that she had seen since she had arrived in Oklahoma. Their bodies were at least two inches long, their leg-spread seven inches. They were larger than she could have imagined, dull and dark brown, covered with long, dusty hairs.

There was something crochety, yet dangerous about them... the way they stopped, then angled away, climbing over one another clumsily if one got in the way of the other.

Momaday, WRM p 17 ("I: The Earth As It Really Was"):

There were meadows of blue and yellow wildflowers on the slopes, and I could see the still, sunlit plain below, reaching away out of sight.

Momaday, WRM p 19 ("II: Pronghorns in the Distance"):

But I remembered once having seen a frightened buck on the run, how the white rosette of its rump seemed to hang for the smallest fraction of time at the top of each frantic bound--like a succession of sunbursts against the purple hills.

Momaday, WRM p 27 ("VI: The Flood" and "VI: I Know of Spiders"):

Then as evening came on, the earth was suddenly crawling with spiders, great black tarantulas, swarming on the flood.

There are dirt roads in the Plains. [...]Now and then there comes a tarantula, at evening, always larger than you imagine, dull and dark brown, covered with long, dusty hairs. There is something crochety about them; they stop and go and angle away.

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SW p 121:

Kohanah stopped his red roan outside a massive tipi whose hide was greatly ornamented with pictures of fighting men and arms on one side... and wide horizontal bands of black and yellow on the other.

Momaday, WRM p 45:

In the winter of 1872-73, a fine heraldic tipi was accidentally destroyed by fire. Known as the Do-giagya guat, "tipi with battle pictures," it was ornamented with fine pictures of fighting men and arms on one side and wide, horizontal bands of black and yellow on the other.

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SW p 132:

The sun seemed at home in the plains where the long yellow grass shone in the shimmering new light. Birds were singing out of the shadows... grasshoppers were already beginning to fill the air.

Then Marilla's eyes were drawn elsewhere, to an aging man who was standing in the center of the village, his hair long, wiry, and gray, hanging way down his back along his fringed buckskin outfit, his hands trembling as he looked toward the rising sun.

"That is Old Man Nervous, so named because of the trembling of his hands," Kohanah said softly. "He is the keeper of the calendar. Each morning he stands on that exact spot of ground near the center of the village and watches to see where the sun appears on the skyline, then records his findings on skins. By means of this solar calendar does he know and announce to our people when it is time to plant, to harvest, to perform this or that ceremony."

Kohanah turned dark eyes down to Marilla. "The old man gazing each morning after the ranging sun represents the epitome of that real harmony between man and the land that signifies the Indian's world," he said thickly. "This is something that can never be taken from my people."

Momaday, WRM p. 7 ("Introduction"):

The sun is at home on the plains. Precisely there does it have the character of a god.

Cf. sources for SW 84.

Whitewolf p 46:

Henry Brownbear would get up after every commandment and repeat it. His Indian name was "Old Man Nervous." That was because he had a tremor of the hands.

Momaday, The Man Made of Words (anthology of previously-published material; original pub cite?), McMillan 1998, pp 36-37:

In the late 1940s and early 1950s, when I was a boy, I lived for several years at Jemez Pueblo, New Mexico. [...]Then I first went there to live, the cacique, or chief, of the Pueblos was a venerable old man with long, gray hair and bright, deep-set eyes. He was entirely dignified and imposing-- and rather formidable in the eyes of a boy. [...] I was told that this old man kept the calendar of the tribe, that each morning he stood on a certain spot of ground near the center of the town and watched to see where the sun appeared on the skyline. By means of this solar calendar did he know and announce to his people when it was time to plant, to harvest, to perform this or that ceremony. This image of him in my mind's eye-- the old man gazing each morning after the ranging sun-- came to represent for me the epitome of that real harmony between man and land that signifies the Indian world.

The Momaday anthology doesn't appear to contain any info about the previous publication of individual pieces. This particular essay is titled, "A First American Views His Land", which a bibliography at http://facultystaff.richmond.edu/~rnelson/grounded.html cites as "National Geographic 150.1 (1976): 13-18"; further lookups establish this issue as July 1976.

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SW p 134:

Marilla's gaze was drawn elsewhere... to an elderly Kiowa woman who appeared to be nothing less than one hundred years of age. As she stepped up to the counter and held out her arms for her supplies, Marilla marveled at her. Her body was twisted and her face was deeply lined with age. Her thin white hair was held in place by a cap of black netting, though she wore braids as well. She had but one eye, and was dressed in the manner of a Kiowa matron... in a dark, full-cut dress that reached nearly to the ankles, with full, flowing sleeves, and a wide, apron-like sash.

Momaday, WRM p 86:

A hundred-year-old woman came to my grandmother's house one afternoon in July. Aho was dead, Mammedaty had died before I was born. There were very few Kiowas left who could remember the Sun Dances; Ko-sahn was one of them; she was a grown woman when my grandparents came into the world. Her body was twisted and her face deeply lined with age. Her thin white hair was held in place by a cap of black netting, though she wore braids as well, and she had but one eye. She was dressed in the manner of a Kiowa matron, a dark, full-cut dress that reached nearly to the ankles, full, flowing sleeves, and a wide, apron-like sash.

---

SW pp 134-135:

Each member of the family had a ticket, which they handed to the soldier; they were then issued out clothes and food. What disturbed Marilla the most was that the Indians were not asked which size they needed for clothing or shoes; they had to take what was given to them. Then they went around the large room trading things back and forth, to find the right size.

Marilla paled when something caught her eye from across the room. Standing in the shadows was an elderly Indian who had just been given a pair of breeches. He was cutting the breeches off at the thighs. He put on the two legs and threw the rest away, then put his breechcloth on around his waist. He then cut off the heels of a pair of shoes that had been given to him, mumbling that the heels were no good to him; moccasins, the traditional footwear of the Indian, were flat.

The other rations handed out to the people were bacon and rice and dried fruit. Some of this was thrown away by the Indians. They said the bacon came from way off east, where there were big fat water snakes. They said if they ate the rice it would give them worms!

Whitewolf p 54:

When they issued out the things they never cared about the size, so we would pass things around the family to see if the things fitted anybody. People were going all over the camp trading things back and forth. You always would find the right fit somewhere. The first time I saw my grandfather get rationed they gave him some pants and told him what they were for. He said "No" and cut the pants off at the thighs. He put on the two legs and threw the rest away. Then he put his breech cloth on around his waist. When they gave us shoes all the old people would cut off the heels and throw them away. THey said the heels were no good to them.[21]

[footnote 21: Moccasins, the traditional footwear, were flat.]

[...] This was at the time we were given other rations, like bacon and rice. We got dried fruit too. Some of it they just threw away. They said the bacon came from way off east, where there were big fat water snakes. They said if you ate the rice it would give you worms. That was why they threw those two things away.

---

SW pp 135-136:

Shadows were becoming long now; there was a deep blush on the sky, and the dark red earth seemed to glow with the setting sun. At this time of day there was a deep silence. Nothing moved. Everything seemed to have stopped so that the sun might take leave of the land.

And then there was the piercing call of a bobwhite. The whole world seemed startled by it!

Momaday WRM p. 45:

The shadows were very long; there was a deep blush on the sky, and the dark red earth seemed to glow with the setting sun. For a few moments, at that particular time of the day. there is deep silence. Nothing moves, and it does not occur to you to make any sound. Something is going on there in the shadows. Everything has slowed to a stop so that the sun might take leave of the land. And then there is the sudden, piercing call of a bobwhite. The whole world is startled by it.

---

SW pp 145-146:

"In death his face is that of a child," he whispered, then covered Bud Moon's body with a blanket.

[...]"The Taime is a small image less than two feet in length," Kohanah explained softly, now directing his eyes downward, looking into the soft blue of Marilla's. "It represents a human figure dressed in a robe of white feathers, with a headdress consisting of a single upright feather and pendants of ermine skin. Numerous strands of blue beads hang around its neck, and painted upon the face, breast, and back are designs symbolic of the sun and moon. The image itself is of dark green stone."

He paused and stepped away from Marilla, his eyes again scanning the interior of the tipi. "It is preserved in a rawhide box," he continued softly. "It is never under any circumstances exposed to view except at the annual Sun Dance, when it is fastened to a short upright stick planted within the medicine lodge, near the western side."

Momaday, WRM p. 6 (describing his grandmother):

Her only living daughter was with her when she died, and I was told that in death her face was that of a child.

WRM p 37 ("X: Sun Dance"):

The great central figure of the kado, or Sun Dance, ceremony is the taime. This is a small image, less than 2 feet in length, representing a human figure dressed in a robe of white feathers, with a headdress consisting of a single upright feather and pendants of ermine skin, with numerous strands of blue beads around its neck, and painted upon the face, breast, and back with designs symbolic of the sun and moon. The image itself is of dark-green stone, in form rudely resembling a human head and bust, probably shaped by art like the stone fetishes of the Pueblo tribes. It is preserved in a rawhide box in charge of the hereditary keeper, and is never under any circumstances exposed to view except at the annual Sun Dance, when it is fastened to a short upright stick planted within the medicine lodge, near the western side. It was last exposed in 1888. --Mooney.

The "Mooney" quoted by Momaday appears to be James Mooney, a 19th-century ethnologist who studied the Kiowa on behalf of the Bureau of American Ethnology. (Cf. sources for SW p 12.) The Smithsonian Institution's list of Kiowa resources (http://www.sil.si.edu/smithsoniancontributions/anthropology/pdf_lo/SCtA-0040.pdf) indexes nearly 200 individual entries for him, all of which postdate 1888; I have no idea which one this was originally from.

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SW p 155:

"For you see, the Kiowa culture is withering and dying like grass that is burned, hurried by the prairie wind. There has now come a day of destiny when, in every direction, as far as the eye can see, carrion lies on the land. The bleached bones of the buffalo lie scattered everywhere! The buffalo was, and forever will be, the animal representation of the sun, the essential and sacrificial victim of the Sun Dance. The wild herds were destroyed. So is the will of my people almost destroyed. There is nothing to sustain them in spirit."

Momaday, WRM p 6 ("Prologue"):

The young Plains culture of the Kiowas withered and died like grass that is burned in the prairie wind. There came a day like destiny; in every direction, as far as the eye could see, carrion lay out in the land. The buffalo was the animal representation of the sun, the essential and sacrificial victim of the Sun Dance. When the wild herds were destroyed, so too was the will of the Kiowa people; there was nothing to sustain them in spirit.

---

SW p 253:

A drum made of a heavy iron kettle, half-filled with water, with a piece of cooked[sic] buckskin stretched across the top and tightly tied in place, beat in a steady rhythm outside Kohanah's tipi.

[...]Dressed in a fine buckskin dress, decorated with elk's teeth and beadwork, her hair worn in two long braids down her back, Marilla sat proudly beside Kohanah, already his bride, but there were rituals that had to be performed now, and later, to confirm the joining of hearts and hands.

Whitewolf p 118:

[footnote 3:] The peyote drum is made of a heavy iron kettle, half-filled with water, with a soaked piece of buckskin stretched across the top and tightly tied in place.

Momaday, WRM p 82:

She was buried in a cabinet and she wore a beautiful dress. How beautiful it was! It was one of those fine buckskin dresses, and it was decorated with elk's teeh and beadwork.

---

SW pp 254-255:

Marilla had been told earlier about the food that was to be served so that what she was observing wasn't all that new to her. She had been taught by one of these elderly women that the meat of a cow had been sliced thin and hung up to dry in the sun. That way it had been preserved for the winter and then put into a bag made of hide. The bones of the cow had been broken up and boiled to get the grease out. This grease had been put into a bag made of a cow's udder, which had a buckskin drawstring.

The meat from the animal had been cooked and dried. The large intestines had been stuffed with a long piece of raw meat, the whole thing boiled, ready for eating.

Wild grapes had been gathered in the fall, boiled, mixed with a little flour, and made into balls. They had been put into a skin bag to keep. A berry called "rock sour" had been dried and preserved.

Marilla had been taught that dried meat and fruit were served at every meal. She looked at the prairie chicken eggs being prepared on a wooden platter today, already boiled hard. A rabbit was roasting on the coals in the firepit. Over the fire was corn, boiling together with tongue.

A favorite food of the Kiowa was now also being placed on wooden platters. It consisted of ground-up meat and marrow mixed with sugar.

One thing in particular that Marilla recalled was that the Kiowa, who had a lot of pounded meat, were considered well off....

Whitewolf pp 51-52:

This is about the food we ate when I was young.

They used to slice the meat up thin and hang it up to dry in the sun. That way it would keep for the winter. My mother used to put it into a bag made of hide to keep it. She broke up the bones of the cow and boiled them to get the grease out. She put the grease into a bag of cow udder that had a buckskin drawstring. She didn't like buckets because she thought they would spoil things. The meat from the back of the animal she cooked and dried. It was something like bacon. She took the large intestine and stuffed it with a long piece of meat, raw. The whole thing was boiled and eaten.

We gathered wild grapes in the fall. They were boiled up, mixed with a little flour, and made into balls like hamburgers. They put them into a skin bag to keep. There were wild blue grapes, with seeds in them. It used to be women's work to gather the grapes, but when I was young, boys did it too. Wild plums were prepared in the same way.

Mesquite beans were ground up sometimes with rocks and put away. Some people just kept them as they were. They used the ground-up ones like cornmeal.

Hackberries grew on big trees. They were ground up and formed into balls and put away. There was another berry that we call "rock sour." They were dried and kept too.

Whne I was a boy, living with my parents, we had dried meat and dried fruit for every meal. We used to have meat soup a lot too. We ate eggs from wild turkeys and prairie chickens, boiled hard. Whenever we ate fish, they cooked right in the ashes. Rabbits were roasted that way too.

My favorite food was ground-up meat with sugar mixed in it. They mixed the meat with marrow before they sweetened it. All the small children like this the best. They used the meat from the backbone to make pounded meat for the children. They kept it separate from the other meat. People who had a lot of pounded meat on hand were considered well off. It was kept for times when there wasn't much fresh meat to be gotten.

---

SW p 256:

The shaman, noted for his curative abilities and skill in clairvoyant forecasting of events, who enjoyed the acclaim and patronage of his fellow tribesmen, began praying to Nuakoiahe, the One Who Made the Earth.

[...]When the shaman ceased speaking and sat down beside Kohana, the other Kiowa joined in with singing and chanting, while the old woman in charge of cooking began dipping food out with a buffalo horn spoon into bowls made of turtle shells. These fowls[sic] were offered to those who had been invited to sit inside the tipi with the new bride and bridegroom. Bowls of ordinary wood filled with food were taken to those who sat outside.

Whitewolf and Brant, p 4:

Shamans noted for their curative abilities, their skill in clairvoyant forecasting of events or their feats of legerdemain, enjoyed the acclaim and patronage of their fellow tribesmen.

Whitewolf and Brant, pp 41-42:

At noon they were feasting inside the tipi. [...]An old woman was watching this corn and tongue that was cooking. The people in there had bowls made of turtle shell. Some of them were of wood. The old woman was dipping the food out with a buffalo-horn spoon. She gave food to everyone in the tipi and also to the people on the outside. They had just ordinary bowls.

---

SW pp 263-264:

An elderly and lean Kiowa warrior, with long gray braids and with zigzags of paint across his wrinkled face, was impressive in his age and bearing.

Seeing how his outspread arms were raised toward the heavens, praying aloud to the rising sun, a shiver coursed through Marilla's flesh. The elderly man's voice was loud and penetrating, traveling from the village, on across the rolling grasses. He was an arrowmaker for the village, performing his early morning ritual.

[...]His bent and knotted fingers began his dedicated daily chore of making arrows... old men being the best arrowmakers, for they could bring time and patience to their craft.

Marilla had been told that throughout the history of the Kiowa, fighters and hunters had always been willing to pay a high price for arrows that were made well. If an arrow was well made, it would have tooth marks upon it from having been straightened with the arrowmaker's teeth, the arrow then drawn to the bow to see if it was straight.

Momaday, WRM pp. 46-47:

If an arrow is well made, it will have tooth marks in it. That is how you know. The Kiowa made fine arrows and straightened them with their teeth. Then they drew them to the bow to see if they were straight.[...]

The old men were the best arrowmakers, for they could bring time and patience to their craft. The young men-- the hunters-- were willing to pay a high price for arrows that were well made.

[...]He was a lean old man in braids and was impressive in his age and bearing. Every morning, my father tells me, Cheney would paint his wrinkled face, go out, and pray aloud to the rising sun. [...]I know where he stands and where his voice goes on the rolling grasses and where the sun comes up on the land.

---

SW p 265:

Looking at the Kiowa braves on their steeds, Marilla was touched by how they were all so tall, straight, relaxed, and graceful with their classical features. Confidence was etched in the depths of their eyes and the set of their jaws, though each and every one of them knew there was little to be confident or hopeful about.

[...]Kohanah wore the same determined look on his face, his long braids, tightened jaw, and bright deep-set eyes so very[sic] entirely dignified and imposing!

His attire was his usual buckskin outfit, but today he held a spear in his left hand, one that he said was deadly and efficient. He had taken great care in its manufacture, especially in the shaping of the flint point, which was an extraordinary thing. A large flake, or chip, had been removed from its face, a groove that extended from the base nearly to the tip. Several hundred pounds of pressure, expertly applied, had been required to make the grooves.

The spear was beautiful as well as functional. Many of the minute chips along the edge served no purpose but that of aesthetic satisfaction!

[...]Kohanah had told her that his horse was fast and easy riding and was afraid of nothing. When it was turned upon an enemy, it charged in a straight line and struck at full speed. Kohanah would have no need to even have a hand upon the rein...

Momaday, WRM p 53:

The artist George Catlin traveled among the Kiowas in 1834. He observes that they are superior to the Comanches and Wichitas in appearance. They are tall and straight, relaxed and graceful. They have fine, classical features, and in this respect they resemble more closely the tribes of the north than of the south.

Also see sources for SW 132.

Momaday, "A First American Views His Land," p. 32 in The Man Made of Words:

The weapon is deadly and efficient. The hunter has taken great care in its manufacture, especially in the shaping of the flint point, which is an extraordinary thing. A larger[sic] flake has been removed from each face, a groove that extended from the base nearly to the tip. Several hundred pounds of pressure, expertly applied, were required to make the grooves.

Momaday, "A First American", pp 33-34 in MMW:

And yet the weapon he made was beautiful as well as functional. It has been suggested that much of the minute chipping along the edges of his weapon served no purpose but that of aesthetic satisfaction.

Momaday, WRM p 67:

My horse was a small red roan, fast and easy riding.

Momaday, WRM p 70:

Once there was a man who owned a fine hunting horse. It was black and fast and afraid of nothing. Whne it was turned upon an enemy it charged in a straight line and struck at full speed; the man need have no hand upon the rein.

---

SW p 266:

Kohanah rode tall in the saddle, seeing how the spring morning was so deep and beautiful, reminiscent of mornings long ago when he was a child accompanying his father on the buffalo hunt. Except for the lack of sightings of buffalo in every direction, it was now as it had been then. The whole face of the country was covered with a luxuriant growth of grass, giving a peculiar pleasure in its deep and soft greens, with occasional clusters of timber in a deeper green.

For only a brief moment Kohanah let feelings of melancholia sweep over him, letting him remember one morning in particular of his childhood...

Kohanah and his father and the accompanying Kiowa warriors had been riding along the edge of a small herd of buffalo. It was in the spring and many of the cows had newborn calves. Nearby, a calf was lying in the tall grass, red-orange in color, delicately beautiful with new life.

Kohanah had broken away from the warrior hunters to go to the calf, to gaze upon its innocent loveliness, when suddenly the mother buffalo was there with her great dark head low, and fearful looking.[...]

At this moment, a buffalo of any size would be a welcome sight to Kohanah! The buffalo was the animal representation of the sun, the essential and sacrificial victim of the Sun Dance. In order to consummate the ancient sacrifice, the head of a buffalo bull should be impaled upon the medicine pole!"

Momaday, WRM p 55:

One morning my father and I walked in Medicine Park, on the edge of a small herd of buffalo. It was late in the spring, and many of the cows had newborn calves. Nearby a calf lay in the tall grass; it was red-orange in color, delicately beautiful with new life. We approached, but suddenly the cow was there in our way, her great dark head low and fearful-looking. Then she came at us, and we turned and ran as hard as we could. She gave up after a short run, and I think we had not been in any real danger. But the spring morning was deep and beautiful and our hearts were beating fast and we knew just then what it was to be alive...

[also cf sources for SW p 110 and SW p 155]

---

SW p 268:

"The Kiowa are summer people. In the winter, they abide the cold and keep to themselves. But when the season turns and [sic] land becomes warm and vital, they cannot hold still. An old love of roaming returns to them!"

Momaday, WRM p 11:

The Kiowas are a summer people; they abide the cold and keep to themselves, but when the season turns and the land becomes warm and vital they cannot hold still; an old love of going returns upon them.

---

SW pp 269-271:

Having been lulled to sleep by his weariness, Kohanah felt his heart quicken him back awake when from somewhere close by in the darkness he heard a blowing, a rumble of breath deeper than the wind. His pulse raced. He had heard the same exact sound many times while on the hunt for buffalo!

[...]He was the Lord of the universe. For him the universe was especially this moment. For him the moment was an element... like the air! The vastness of the nearing victory was by and large his whole context.

For him there was no possibility of existence elsewhere. There was only now.... this moment...

[...]And there it was. On the skyline! The massive head of a long-horned bison, then the hump, then the whole beast, huge and black on the sky, standing to a height of seven feet at the hump, with horns that extended six feet across the shaggy crown.

For a moment the beast stood poised there; then it lumbered obliquely down the bank to the nearby creek.

Kohanah took on a crouching position in the darkness, scarcely visible. He moved not a muscle. Only the wind lifted his braids and then laid them back along his neck. The beast was now only a few steps upwind. There were no signs of what was about to happen. The beast meandered. Kohanah was frozen in repose.

Then the scene exploded. In one and the same instant Kohanah sprang to his feet and bolted forward, his arm cocked, the spear held high. The huge animal lunged in panic, bellowing, its whole weight thrown violently into the bank, its hooves churning and chipping earth into the air, its eyes gone wide and wild and white.

There was a moment in which the animal's awful, frenzied motion was wasted, and it was mired and helpless in its fear. Kohanah hurled the spear with his whole strength, and the point was driven into the deep, vital flesh.

The animal in its agony,[sic] staggered and crashed to the ground, dead.

[...]A loud cry of rage and surprise split the air when he discovered that he had not killed a buffalo at all, but instead, one of the longhorn cows that now grazed on land once occupied by buffalo! He hand wanted a buffalo bull so badly that his eyes had fooled him. His heart and his mind had played tricks on him when he saw the beast in the darkness of night!

(Yup, that's right. The mighty hunter mistook a cow for a full-grown buffalo.)

Momaday, "A First American Views His Land", p 31 in The Man Made of Words:

A man crouches in the ravine, in darkness there, scarcely visible. He moves not a muscle; only the wind lifts a lock of his hair and lays it back along his neck. He wears skins and carries a spear. These things in particular mark his human intelligence and distinguish him as the lord of the universe. And for him the universe is especially this landscape; for him the landscape is an element like the air. The vast, virgin wilderness is by and large his whole context. For him there is no possibility of existence elsewhere.

Directly there is a blowing, a rumble of breath deeper than the wind, above him, where some of the hard clay of the bank is broken off and the clods roll down into the water. At the same time there appears on the skyline the massive head of a long-horned bison, then the hump, then the whole beast, huge and black on the sky, standing to a height of seven feet at the hump, with horns that extend six feet across the shaggy crown. For a moment it is poised there, then it lumbers obliquely down the bank to the pond. Still the man does not move, though the beast is now only a few steps upwind. There is no sign of what is about to happen; the beast meanders; the man is frozen in repose.

Then the scene explodes. In one and the same instant the man springs to his feet and bolts forward, his arm cocked and the spear held high, and the huge animal lunges in panic, bellowing, its whole weight thrown violently into the bank, its hooves churning and chipping earth into the air, its eyes gone wide and wild and white. There is a moment in which its awful, frenzied motion is wasted, and it is mired and helpless in its fear, and the man hurls the spear with his whole strength, and the point is driven into the deep, vital flesh, and the bison in its agony staggers and crashes down and dies.

---

SW p 293:

Focusing her eyes on the loveliness of the land around her, forcing herself not to worry about the question of her pregnancy, she admired the still, sunlit plain reaching out of sight, as though seeing it for the first time.

The meadow was bright, yet not to be trusted, for at times the plains were bright and calm and quiet; at other times they were black with the sudden violence of weather.

It was now noon on the plain... bees were swarming...

Marilla (or perhaps rather Edwards) has a rather bad memory wrt "seeing it for the first time", considering that she used the same "sky" description from Momaday back on SW 119. Also cf. SW 83.

---

SW pp 294-296:

The central post was ornamented near the ground with the robes of very old, almost withered away, buffalo calves, their heads up, as if in the act of climbing it. Each of the cottonwood branches above the fork was ornamented with more buffalo robes, with the addition of shawls, calico, and scarves, and covered at the top with black muslin.

Attached to the fork was a bundle of cottonwood and willow limbs, firmly bound together and covered with a buffalo robe, with head and horns, so as to form a crude image of a buffalo, to which were hung strips of new calico, muslin, strouding, both blue and scarlet, feathers, and shawls of various lengths and colors. The longer and showier articles were placed near the ends. This image was so placed as to face the east.

A screen was then constructed on the side opposite the structure by sticking small cottonwoods and cedars deep into the ground so as to preserve them fresh as long as possible. A space was left, two or three feet wide, between it and the enclosing wall, in which the dancers were already preparing themselves for the dance. The Taime was already in place, but concealed from view behind the screen.

Above it was a large fan made of eagle quills, with the quill part lengthened nearly a foot by inserting a stick into it and securing it there. These were held in a spread formation by means of a willow rod bent in a circular form.

Above this was a mass of feathers, concealing the image, on either side of which were several shields, highly decorated with feathers and paint.

The ground inside the enclosure was carefully cleared of grass, sticks, and roots, awaiting a covering, several inches deep, of clean white sand, for the dancers were required to dance on sandy earth.

Marilla was in awe of everything and everyone as all around her singing, shouting, and chanting filled the air. She gazed at an old, old woman who moved into the enclosure with a bag full of earth on her back. Several boys went to assist her, removing the bag from her back, then emptied it of its contents... the white sandy earth.

The old woman held a digging tool in her hand. She turned toward the south and pointed with her lips. It was like a kiss and she began to sing: "We have brought the earth. Now it is time to play. As old as I am, I still have the feeling of play."

This was the true beginning of the Sun Dance. Slowly the dancers began to take their steps, all the people were around, wearing splendid things... beautiful buckskin and beads. Some wore necklaces and pendants that shone like the sun.

Though Marilla did not understand exactly the significance of the ceremony, she considered it, ah, so very beautiful.

Thomas C. Battey, The Life and Adventures of a Quaker Among the Indians, Corner House 1972 hardback reprint (orig. pub. 1875), p. 170:

The central post is ornamented near the ground with the robes of buffalo calves, their heads up, as if the act of climbing it; each of the branches above the fork is ornamented with more buffalo robes, with the addition of shawls, calico, scarfs[sic], &c., and covered at the top with black muslin. Attached to the fork is a bundle of cottonwood and willow limbs, firmly bound together, and covered with a buffalo robe, with head and horns, so as to form a rude image of a buffalo, to which were hung strips of new calico, muslin, strouding, both blue and scarlet, feathers, shawls, &c., of various lengths and qualities. The longer and more showy articles were placed near the ends. This image was so placed as to face the east.

Battey, Kessinger 2006 edition on Google Books (http://books.google.com/books?id=jdOkAKKHP2IC); p 174 (same pagination in 1972 Corner House edition):

The ground inside the enclosure had been carefully cleared of grass, sticks, and roots, and covered, several inches deep, with a clean, white sand. A screen had been constructed on the side opposite the entrance, by sticking small cottonwoods and cedars deep into the ground, so as to preserve them fresh as long as possible. A space was left, two or three feet wide, between it and the enclosing wall, in which the dancers prepared themselves for the dance, and it front of which was the medicine. This consisted of an image, lying on the ground, but so concealed from view, in the screen, as to render its form indistinguishable; above it was a large fan, made of eagle quills, with the quill part lengthened nearly a foot, by inserting a stick into it, and securing it there. These were held in a spread form by means of a willow rod, or wire, bent in a circular form; above this was a mass of feathers, concealing an image, on each side of which were several shields, highly decorated with feathers and paint.

Momaday, WRM p.88:

There was an old, old woman. The boys went out to see. The old woman had a bag full of earth on her back. It was a certain kind of sandy earth. That is what they must have in the lodge. The dancers must dance upon the sandy earth. The old woman held a digging tool in her hand. She turned toward the south and pointed with her lips. It was like a kiss, and she began to sing:

We have brought the earth.
Now it is time to play;
As old as I am, I still have the feeling of play.

That was the beginning of the Sun Dance. The dancers treated themselves with buffalo medicine, and slowly they began to take their steps... And all the people were around, and they wore splendid things-- beautiful buckskin and beads. The chiefs wore necklaces, and their pendants shone like the sun. There were many people, and oh, it was beautiful! That was the beginning of the Sun Dance. It was all for Tai-me, you know, and it was a long time ago.

---

SW p 299:

It was fastened to a short upright stick planted in the ground near the western side of the dance structure. The Taime bundle was suspended by means of a strip of ticking from the fork of the stick.

Momaday, WRM p 37:

Once I went with my father and grandmother to see the Tai-me bundle. It was suspended by means of a strip of ticking from the fork of a small ceremonial tree.

[Also see the end of the Mooney quote in the source list for SW 145-146.]

---

And now (as of 11 May 2008) I really am done looking for sources, having reached the LJ size limit for this post :b