The Way of the Medicine Man

Among the many interesting characters at Fort Peck Agency, Montana, was a “medicine man” named Sheo Sapa (“Black Chicken”), a tall, slim fellow of erect and dignified carriage.

He enjoyed among his people a great reputation for skill in all the magic and black art both for healing and other purposes. Among the white people his reputation was equally great as a humbug though he was possessed of superior intelligence.

He made no use of drugs. He treated his patients by sorcery entirely -- beating a tom-tom and pronouncing mysterious sounds over the affected parts; using the incantations inherited from generations of medicine men, to which he added others of his own invention. He worked among his people continually; distributing blessings and curses as best suited his interests, but always enjoying their faith and a respect inspired by the mingled emotions of hope and fear.

Above all, “Chicken” (as we called him for short) exhibited a savage vindictiveness, which, couple wit his uncontrolled temper brought woe upon any unfortunate being who provoked his wrath.

Among the many incidents of his vicious temper which crowd my mind, one in particular I can never forget. Passing “Chicken’s” tipi in my phaeton one day, I saw him in a fit of passion catch up a little child, growl at her in his savage gutturals and with a vicious swing, dash her against a wood-pile several feet away. There the little one lay piteously crying, while “Chicken” continued his harsh invective with increasing anger until, as the child continued its wail, he grabbed an axe and swung it over his shoulder with an apparent intent to chop the little body in two.

My frightful shriek at a sight so murderous arrested his movement, when he turned toward me in surprise. His anger had been too fierce to note our approach. He realized that he was too near the law and force to neglect my threat of imprisonment and punishment if he perpetrated such an act. Slowly and sullenly he lowered the axe. But, oh! such a scowl of diabolical anger as he gave me for the interference that thwarted him in his dreadful purpose! It stayed with me for many a day, and makes me shudder yet.

In the same camp was another individual almost equally well know. In character a living antithesis to Black Chicken, was a woman whom everyone at the post liked. Her Indian name, if ever I knew it, has been forgotten; but the post trader had dubbed her “Dolly Varden,” usually shortened to “Dolly,” and as such she was known to all. She was neither handsome nor young -- merely a good-natured Indian woman.

Her good humor was constant and she was given to frequent jokes; something quite unusual in an Indian. In fact, I recall in all my experience with them, but one other who joked. “Dolly” appeared to enjoy life so much that her high spirits seemed infectious, and it was little wonder that her short calls in the post were always welcome.

She earned her living by making and selling porcupine and bead work, and doing chores about the different houses. Heres was a round of laborious struggle for existence; but that did not faze her, as every day seemed a succession of bright happenings.

As I have said, we all enjoyed “Dolly’s” visits There came a time when several days had passed without her appearance at the post. Everyone wondered if any misfortune had overtaken her. A fortnight had passed since any one had seen her, when, while riding, I saw approaching me along the road a woman packing a bundle of wood on her back after the usual squaw fashion. She seemed weak and tottering and it appeared that even the small load she had was overtaxing her strength. The figure looked like “Dolly,” but as she drew nearer, the bowed head was not raised, and she made no sign of recognition or greeting. Certainly it could not be she, for “Dolly” never passed friends without accosting them with word or smile; besides, the familiar strength and energy that were so essentially hers, were missing. Yet there was something that made think I could not be mistaken. I looked again. Finally I cried: “Dolly Varden, is that you?”

“Tosh cola” (Yes, my friend) I finally heard listlessly uttered as the wan and wasted face turned toward me. With eager anxiety I inquired “Why, Dolly, where have you been? Are you ill?”

Then in a voice so weak as to be scarcely audible she told me that she was going to die. Naturally I was shocked. I plied her with questions, and in her weak, unwilling answers I got the story.

It appeared that sometime previous Dolly had provoked Chicken; whereupon he had approached and struck her menacingly with a bird’s claw fastened to the end of a stick which he carried as a sorcerer’s wand. Then he told her that the claw had entered her breast and would kill her in forty days. Her belief in the man’s words was so sincere that she gave evidence of real pain as she touched the spot where the bird’s claw had fell. In the thought of approaching death she had become emaciated. her face drawn and haggard. She had lost interest in the world and all about her. I tried in every way to persuade her that “Chicken” possessed no power that enabled him to strike a bird’s claw into her breast, or to predict when she would die. But her faith in his “bad medicine” remained unshaken.

Shocked at the fiendish knavery of the man, and filled with compassion for the poor woman’s meek acceptance of his word, I finally gained her reluctant promise to come to my house and take some medicine to break the spell. Once at my quarters, not surrounded by native influence, I thought to reason with her and give her substantial food. I was determined if possible to save “Dolly” from her fatal superstition. That she was incredulous of any relief was evident from a manner which indicated disbelief; but like an Indian true to her promise, she came. She looked to be worse than when I had seen her on the road and although she had absolutely no physical ailment, the woman was actually wasting away -- a victim of fear and alarm at the fate Black Chicken had prophesied for her.

“Chicken” was a frequent visitor at our house and while talking with her I saw him approaching an idea occurred to me upon which I acted with an impulse in a way which I fear I would not have dared, under careful consideration.

“Doll,” said I, “if I let ‘Chicken’ strike me with the bird’s claw will you believe what I say? I’m not afraid. He cannot hurt anyone with it.”

She was visibly terrified at such a test. Finally, however, she acquiesced. I called my husband; explained the situation; and asked him to stay with us.

When “Chicken” came, we confronted him with “Dolly.” he gazed at her so savagely, that the poor woman shrank farther and farther into the background in evident fear of worse and swifter calamity at his hand. His bravado aroused my ire. All I could see was a strong man taking a shameful advantage of a weak, ignorant woman. In the native tongue I belittled Sheo Sapa’s power, and defied him to injure me with his bird’s claw. I recall how I warmed up as I ridiculed his humbuggery before “Dolly” until I had poked fun at every form of his vaunted skill. Poor “Dolly” cowered in that shadow and listened with amazement at my audacity, and watched each moment for my downfall at the medicine man’s hand. To her, to defy the medicine man meant death. When he stood before me and neither my life was sacrificed nor my strength diminished, “Dolly” took courage, and I could see that her deep faith in him was weakened.

As for “Chicken,” he was took angry to speak. He probably expected the camp to hear of the incident, and he gave me a look of intense hatred which is indescribable. Then slowly gathering up his blanket and his trappings, he departed.

Poor “Dolly”! Her nerves had been unnaturally tense, and she was greatly relieved at his departure. After she became more calm, she gratefully ate the meal that had been prepared for her.

For several days after, “Dolly” and I watched each other. I to see if she improved; she to see if I grew weak. I circulated freely to protect her from “Chicken’s” molestation; I could see her covertly noting my appearance and actions, evidently somewhat fearful of evil effects from my defiance of the medicine man. At last, when she saw that my health and spirits remained good, her faith in him was completely overthrown.

With the loss of fear, hope returned and “Dolly” gradually strengthened and became her old jolly self again.

The incident had another and a more far-reaching result. Though my berating incurred for me “Chicken’s” ever-lasting dislike, it put an end to his over bearing manner toward his people while we remained at the station; but I heard later that he had regained all of his old power and influence at the time of the Ghost Dance craze which swept over the Indians a few years later.