the men could kill in hunting or on the epos bulbs and water-lily seed, the wocus, the women could gather. They could build good wood houses like the Bostons. They could make good clothes, not just stitch together rags like the Modocs. One or two of their young men had gone with him to the tyee councils to argue to keep the reservation from the soldiers, and they had seen where the tyees lived. Now these young men knew how things could be. They would be better still. Right here. Because he would teach them.
“Then you lead us,” one called out, and the rest agreed. “You can show us what we need to know. You did already lead us. From The Dalles, with the great caravan for the Klamaths. We cut the trail, but you led us. No other white man but you. The captain. But you weren’t even a man yet. Now you don’t have to be just our captain. You can take Lalakes place!”
The rest agreed, calling him ‘Golden Eagle Chief’ and crowding around him. The women chattered to each other, uneasy at yet another new thing, wondering if it could be possible. But the older men held their silence, waiting to see where this new road would lead, wondering whether this would be the time to block it. They wouldn’t have to try that, though, and they were relieved to see it, for Oliver’s voice boomed out his refusal.
“No,” he said. “That would not be a right thing. You must lead yourselves in the new way. You don’t want a white chief. This reservation must remain a place for Indians, and you must show here through your husbandry and your self-regulation that you can live according to the new way without a Boston to guide you. I will be your teacher, be your father. But you shall elect a chief!”
So that very day, with the clear blue lake and sky as witness, after they had agreed to their new councils, after the old headsmen had taken themselves away, they did this other new thing. Those who wished to were to speak again, this time to all the people, and say who should be the one to become their chief of chiefs -- to talk to the tyees. They could not understand all the new words Oliver gave to them, but they remembered what he wanted. One should be named, and then another, and even more. And then at last no more would be named, and those ones would make their talks about how they thought to lead. Then everyone who was there should get in line before their man. And then everyone would know who would be the main chief.
Compotwas Doctor had seen it, he and the other kiuks, from there beyond the corral, off into the trees. At first the old Klamath men had hung back, while the new chief got elected in place of the old headsman; but later, when the new councils got made, they became used to the idea and started to like it. In the days that followed, they went from place to place whenever the Indian sheriff caught someone; they listened to the new councils say who was guilty. Sometimes they spent whole days just going from here to there to see another council. It was better than farming.
Captain Jack, the man who would kill him, had heard of it, too. Even though he was off the reservation. Some Lost River Modocs and some Snakes had watched from the edge of the clearing, seeing what the Klamaths were doing. Compotwas Doctor knew the word would go with them, spreading out across the country. Down on Lost River, those who had thrown in with Jack wouldn’t like it. They would not like it, and neither would the shamans.
#6
Ashland, Oregon
June 8, 1869
Brother Ivan: Since you were away, I thought to begin setting Klamath Agency in order, getting ready for the changeover. It got clearer and clearer that I had better shake the dust off my boots instead and head for the Superintendent’s office. I therefore rode over here all night and leave for Salem as soon as I can get my bags packed. Better to meet our new Superintendent face to face -- and make sure his first impressions of the Applegate ‘endeavors’ are the right ones. (Brother E. L. says not to worry about this Meacham. He has known and approves of him. Advises instead spending time fretting that the Indians will scatter while the new Superintendent settles in, and we will just have to begin gathering them again. I can’t credit that one. True enough, Meacham will find his predecessor left things a mess, but unruly Indians is not for the moment one of them. For the time at least, all is quiet in our corner of the world -- except for the muffled sound of Progress.)
Along those lines, we come to the reason for this letter: Lalakes is resigned, and we have our new young Turk. It is David Allen, as you thought it would be. For a while I worried that things would not turn out right. Blowe got nearly as many votes (5 less), and it seemed at first that he would go and teach David Allen how much better it is to be a big Indian. It took a while to explain to him that he should not just crack some heads with his war club or take those who had voted for him and leave. Instead, he should learn that five votes difference is more than enough to point out the man. Thank Heavens he got the idea, or we should probably have had to start again. But get it he did. In the end he went over and congratulated Chief David Allen, despite some grumbling from those who had voted for him. I think a big lesson was learned by all of the Klamaths. We can thank Providence for it.
Now on to our next task; our meeting must be soon after I return. Let me first find out what I can about the changes that are coming. -- and arrange that we not be hurt by them.
Your brother,
Oliver
P.S.: Nearly forgot the real reason for this letter! I enclose for your edification a fair copy of how one Council worked. This was adopted just yesterday, after a dispute/discussion, what-have-you about stock-grazing that lasted practically all day. I sat there and held my tongue -- most of the time -- and am very pleased with the outcome. I quote:
The Indians unanimously rule that it is all right to drive stock through their reservation without paying. It is all right to stop less than a day if the person pays a reasonable consideration. Travelers overnight who allow their stock to graze the meadows must pay. Passers through who adopt these rules will not be troubled. Will you please make out a copy and sign it as I.D. Applegate, Commissary, Klamath Agency?
Get father to sign it as US Indian Agent at Klamath Reservation, then note it in care of Ben Drew, Head Chief of Sprague River Klamaths. Progress will then be official, if not complete.
Hold good thoughts for me! -- and for us. The next few weeks in Salem are crucial.
O. C.
#7
“My dear brother,” Jesse Applegate snapped, “that incisive mind of yours will scarcely cut butter. The reforms are coming, like it or not. If Washington ever gets its so-called mind made up one way or the other, there won’t be a damned thing you or any other reservation agent can do about it, except try to get out of the way of the big, new broom. If you don’t do that, you’ll be lucky not to be ridden out of state on a rail.”
Lindsay did not like hearing it, even in the privacy of this council of the family men. People could say what they would, but a new administration in Washington had no right overturning what they had done here -- in just a few years, with such effort. Only four, really, if you counted from the agency’s establishment.
“I’ll repeat it again, Jesse, then never more,” Lindsay intoned. Ivan and Lucien groaned and traded glances as their father continued. “That’s all right, my sons, you go ahead and look at each other, but you can take a lesson from this. Without us -- your uncle Jesse and me at first, and then you two and your brother Oliver -- this whole area would still be a wasteland,
