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Page: of 436
FIRST INVASION
“They would owe you perpetual gratitude. They would remember you
with love and affection forever.”
“Forever?”
Wema could sense the shaman’s fascinated speculation about such a
miraculous change of status—he was tempted. But already the chief
knew his ploy wasn’t going to work. One could not trick a jom so easily.
A medicine man could not be successful without knowing a great deal
about human nature. Before the jom could speak, Wema said:
“Tt’s late; let’s sleep and we'll talk tomorrow.”
Hl
IT TOOK LONGER for Wema to negotiate the fee than to persuade the
council to hire the shaman. Strong words had been exchanged in the
council house before it was agreed that the shaman would receive a horse
if he drove out the intruders. Inasmuch as none of Wema’s people owned
such an animal, it was understood that one would have to be stolen. This
had caused further debate. Many saw in this arrangement the seeds of
further conflict with the white intruders, but others argued that it could
be done in such a way as to throw blame on another tribe, especially one
of those to the north, whom the nisenan disliked.
The argument which carried the day was the unspoken one: most suspected that the shaman would fail and thus forfeit his fee. The decision
made, the council adjourned its session, and rain began to fall. With the
resumption of the winter storms, Wema decided to hold off for awhile.
Because it appeared unlikely that the foreigners would pose a threat as
long as it snowed in the mountains, the mission was delayed. Wema,
Walupa, and the shaman stayed in their houses, huddling close to warm
fires.
It was for this reason that no one was out and about to observe Dennis
Martin when he came hiking through the Indian country, hugging the
ridges which rise alongside the Bear River. Who would have thought that
anyone would climb into the mountains alone at this season—especially
a white man?
Martin had come away from Sutter’s Fort on the twentieth of February, not long after the volunteer army had quit the field of battle in southern California. On discovering that they were expected to confront fellow Missourians instead of Mexicans, they had refused to fight. Returning to the fort, the prodigal fathers and sons began to make amends for
long neglect of their suffering families. Unwilling to wait until the others
had arranged for pack animals and supplies, Dennis, whose father was in
the snowbound camp, set off for the mountains alone.
12