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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Our fortified camp is well out of range of arrow, or gun shot, except the rear flank, of course the Shoshone are reputed to be deficient in firearms but are expert in hand weapons and guerilla tactics, its a gamble, but we must seek to establish identity and intent I'm taking a recon group of twelve into the valley we're spread out to mitigate the impact of ambush remaining close to the brush and treelines the interior of the mountains look like the inside of deep candle wells and we are the flame that attracts attention, I see three people by a popping creek, its a girl child, a teenage girl and an old woman with baskets picking grapes, for an instant I think of the mythological Fates, have we been plucked and cut, signaling for Drouillard, I procure a mirror, a comb and other small trinkets to offer as gifts, and I'm rolling up my deerskin sleeve to show I am a White Man, tactfully I step out of the snowberry thickets unarmed pleading repeatedly the Shoshone phrase I've learnt from Sacagawea, " Ta ba bone...Ta ba bone...Ta ba bone..." the child has immediately wrapped herself around the old woman's leg the teen has scampered like a doe in silent terror looking back at me with eyes of screaming innocence, mouth crying open, the woman is standing frozen with a face of defense and from her beaded belt unsheathes a carbonized dagger, Drouillard comes out gently doing his best with the speech and sign language as I go on one knee showing the gifts, thank Deity they calm, smile, and accept, we have convinced them to lead us to the village the woman has persuaded the teen, named Maraseca to rejoin and receive the mirror, J.A.B.
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