Prairie Girls

 

Elizabeth

I am Elizabeth. I was brave, but my heart ached when my people were forced to leave the land of our fathers. The government in a place called Washington said we must move. We took all our possessions with us. Some walked and some rode horses. Our heads were held high, but there was only sadness on our faces. 

I did not know what my life would be like in Indian Territory. Would there be more buffalo hunts? Would there be Black Robes? Would I have a marriage ceremony? I did know I would honor my promise to Grandfather and not forget my Osage ways.

 

Great-Grandma’s House

The above is a picture of a daguerreotype (photograph made on a chemically treated tin plate). It shows my great grandparents, my grandfather as a young boy, (kneeling on one knee) and a neighbor holding a scythe (a hand-held blade used to cut grass).  I recently found this in a collection of my mother’s possessions. Mother is no longer with us, and I cannot confirm it, but I have a memory of seeing this as a young child. My grandfather told me of the long-ago afternoon when a man in a horse-drawn wagon came by the farm and took a picture of the house and family.

Grandpa also told the story of his mother looking through the glass of her kitchen window one day to find a Native American brave staring at her long, red hair. Grandma’s heart beat more rapidly, I’m sure. The brave, though, meant no harm. He had just not seen a red-headed woman before.