had lost relatives in the battle. Our people believed the souls of the slain enemies would then become slaves for our dead ones. But many warriors did not know what to do because the chief would not let scalps taken from the dead dishonour the families. In the end, he said they must give these scalps to us, the Cree, who had killed so many with guns and who had won the battle. I was given many scalps.
“After that I dressed in my finest leather and painted my face and body so that I would impress my wife and her father when I gave them my scalps. I rode many days to find them, but when I came to my people’s village they said my wife was no longer with them. She had taken another man before I was three moons gone and moved to another village with her family. My heart was swollen with anger and revenge but my Peigan friends said she was worthless and I would find a better wife with them. That was when I renounced my people and returned to live with the Peigan. The Peigan chief then honoured me with his eldest daughter for a wife. She has now grown old with me.
“The terror of that battle and our guns stopped the Shoshoni and Kootenay from attacking us. But we did not stop. We warred for many seasons and we killed as many of our enemies as we could find. Finally, we drove the evil ones, the Shoshoni, the Kootenay, and the Salish out of this land and across the mountains.” The old man paused and seemed to fight back tears as he summoned strength back to his voice. “But the killing brought an evil spirit to us, which entered the bodies of men, women, and children, killing everyone and destroying whole villages.”
Smallpox! David thought.
“After the great death everything changed,” said Saukamappee. “Now there were not enough people for our village. We believed the Great Spirit had forsaken us and was angry at the blood we had spilled on his land. So after that we killed only the men. The women and young ones were taken back to our village to live with us. Then our villages grew strong again. That is how we got this land.”
In mid-winter, a small war party of young men returned to camp after a long absence. They sang a war song of victory, and one came to the old man’s tent to pay his respects. After he left, Saukamappee told David the warriors had been gone for two months, and the famous war chief, Kootanae Appee, would arrive tomorrow with the main war party. They had gone far south to meet their enemy, the Black People (the name they gave the Spanish), and capture their horses. David asked about the battle and the old man smiled. “No battle. The Black People never fight. They always run away.”
He told David it was just as well for the Spanish because Kootanae Appee was a brilliant battle strategist, and it was he who had defeated all the other tribes and carried the Peigan to great heights of power. Saukamapee said the war chief was famous for snatching victory while retreating. Unlike war chiefs before him, who left warriors to fend for themselves, Kootanae Appee would organize strategic ambushes. His rearguard actions won him many victories and the devotion of his warriors.
The following day the tent flap swung open and Kootanae Appee entered Saukamapee’s lodgings. There was no ceremony between them. They were old friends and each held high status in his tribe. The old man presented David to the chief, but Kootanae Appee’s stone-faced stare gave no hint of friendliness. The war chief extended his left hand in greeting and David gave him his right in return. In doing so David had unknowingly challenged the chief to combat. The chief smiled, for he knew the contest would not be equal. Saukamapee intervened quickly. “Listen young man,” he scolded. “If one of our people offers you his left hand, you give him your left hand. The right hand is for fighting. It wields the spear, draws the bow, and pulls the trigger. It is the hand of death. The left hand is next to your heart, speaks truth and friendship, and is the hand of life. When you leave this place you will meet many who have never seen a white man. So remember your manners.”
They all sat. Kootanae Appee and Saukamapee talked for an hour before the chief left as unceremoniously as he had arrived. Afterward, Saukamapee told David he had recommended him into the chief’s protection and Kootanae Appee had agreed. “This is an honour,” he explained. “You have a great warrior’s guarantee to protect you in his territory.”
David was sorry to finally leave Saukamappee, but he needed to follow Gady and the others on their trading mission deeper into Peigan country. David remembered what the old Cree had taught him, and was able to accumulate a good number of valuable furs trading with the Peigan.
William Tomison raised his arms and smiled warmly as he greeted Gady, David, and the others as they returned to Manchester House. He already had news of their trading success and eagerly examined the bales of fresh pelts. “All prime. You’ll no find better than this,” he said, sucking air across his teeth and shaking his head in admiration at the quality of their furs. “Eighty skins, Davie. Well done, lad!” congratulated Tomison as he rummaged through David’s bales. David could not remember ever seeing Tomison so animated and wondered if the brigade leader was happier about the furs or the men returning.
When the river ice cleared, the brigade, laden with a small fortune in fur, left for the shores of Hudson Bay. David, thankful he had been left at the post until next summer, began helping with the upkeep of Manchester House. He cared for the company’s forty horses by giving them a small evening feed of oats and corralling them in for the night. When winter set in, collecting wood to keep the fire burning at the post was an endless duty.
On a bitterly cold morning two days before Christmas, David headed out, dragging a wood-sled behind him in the crusty snow. He trudged past some good fire logs and mentally noted their location. Get them on the way back, he thought, no use hauling them both ways. Finally, he stopped at a promising pile of fallen trees. They were down a steep bank. Carefully leaning his weight on a tree branch, he stepped over the edge. The branch snapped and he began to slide, almost playfully, until his leg became wedged under a fallen log. His leg was stuck but his momentum continued to propel him forward. He heard a sickening snap and felt searing pain pulse through him as his face hit the snow. He tried to get up, but a rush of pain and nausea overcame him, and he fainted into a nightmare of suffering. His leg was badly broken.
He regained consciousness to an acrid smell and opened his eyes to find a puddle of brown vomit melting the snow by his mouth. David tried to move, slowly pushing with his good leg, until the pain became too great. He waited, then pushed again, gradually working his way up the bank. The others wouldn’t notice him gone until dinner. By then it would be dark and too late to find him. David doubted he could survive through the frozen night. He pushed to the edges of pain, then with growing desperation, pushed harder into the very core of his pain, into the red blinding flashes that thundered through him. He pushed until he heard voices, felt hands lifting him, then darkness.
David awoke at Manchester House. The events of the previous day began to take shape in his mind as he found himself lying on a bed near the fire. He pulled back the stale buffalo robe covering his leg and surveyed the bindings that had been wrapped around it. The men at the post had done their best for him when they found him crawling, half conscious, toward the post. They knew vaguely how to bind his broken leg with a bandage and splint, but none had any medical training, and the injury was severe.
For months, David was unable to stand and was still unable to walk by spring thaw. Tomison was angry. If there had been a surgeon to set young Thompson’s leg, he would not have lost one of his best young prospects. The brigade leader went out of his way to speed David’s recovery, and any doubts that David had about Tomison’s sincerity vanished. The brigade leader showed him the kind of tenderness David thought a father might give a son, but in the end, Tomison was forced to send David downriver to Cumberland House.
Here David fared even worse. He was left in the care of the two men stationed at the now inactive depot. They had little understanding of nursing the ill, and soon David became weak and unable even to feed himself. He was emaciated and nearing death when a kind-hearted Cree woman took him into her care.