Halfbreed Page 12
Sophie never mentioned that night. When I saw her again I tried to apologize and she said to forget about it. I saw her again, years later, and told her how badly I still felt. She said once again that she understood that I had a right to feel as I did. She told me that she was very sick and knew she was going to die soon, and had thought a lot about me and what had happened that night. She felt bad because she’d never in her life tried to do anything to make her situation better. She said she regretted that instead of trying to improve things for herself and for our people, she had let herself believe she was merely a “no good Halfbreed.”
Chapter 13
WE WERE HAPPY TO SEE summer come. Nothing ever seemed so bad when it was warm. Jamie got a full-time job as soon as school was out and Dad was back working Mr. Grey’s farm with Bob.
Spring was very hard for us as our vegetables were all gone as were the berries and meat, and we lived mostly on small game such as ducks, rabbits and gophers. Ellen used to pack lunches for Dad to eat in the field and could never understand why he ate so much when he seemed like such a light eater in the house. Dad noticed that a lot of good leftovers got thrown to the pigs so finally he insisted that there was no need for her to make his lunch so early in the morning, that he would make it himself. He took the leftovers and as much as he could of everything else without being obvious. These he would drop off at home on his way from barn chores to the fields, and we would eat them during the day.
We had no housekeeper after April. Jamie and I took turns missing school to babysit the younger ones, and because we were in the same grade we were able to help each other with homework at night. After a week, the teacher said if we missed any more days she would have to report us and the family allowance would be cut off. We received fifty dollars a month and used it to buy flour, lard, macaroni, tomato soup, baking powder and tea, and a few other groceries. If we lost that there would be nothing.
We decided to take the little ones with us to school. There was dense bush right behind the schoolhouse and there we left Geordie, Danny and Edward. We used long pieces of baling twine and tied them to trees, told them to be quiet or teacher would see them and put us in the orphanage. Then the five of us at the school ran back and forth every few minutes to the toilets, to check on them. This worked for nearly a month until the teacher began to scold us for using the bathroom so often, and soon the kids were teasing us too. Then came a day when she forbade us to go out during classes. I knew that the little ones would become frightened, so about ten o’clock I asked to go out and was told to wait for recess. I sat there for what seemed like an eternity, and then just ran out. Edward was at the edge of the playground, crying, but afraid to come any closer. I raced past him and found Geordie with the twine twisted around his neck. He was all blue; Danny was crying and trying to loosen the rope. I managed to get him untangled and pounded him on the back. I was sure he was dead but at last he came to, and while hugging him and trying to calm the others saw our teacher standing there. She looked so funny when she asked me what was wrong. I told her then about having no housekeeper; about our fear of losing the family allowance and maybe ending up in an orphanage. For once, in spite of my dislike for her, I poured everything out.
That evening Ellen and Bob came over and asked us why we had never told them; they said they would have helped us and that that was what friends were for. They did not want to see me leave school and decided to ask Dad if they could adopt the little ones and raise them. We would be nearby and could have seen them all the time. When Dad refused they tried to reason with us, saying that it would be easier and would give us all a better chance. I remember how afraid I became. Those little ones were mine and a part of me. I could not give them away. We were very close, all of us, and protected and loved each other. So Ellen and Bob offered help instead—food, clothing; and said that anything they had we could share. They also said that some of the neighbours were finding clothing and vegetables for us. There was a tight knot in my stomach and a feeling of shame and hate. No one had ever had anything to do with us, never visited or invited us over. They had laughed at our clothes and the way we acted—like “wild colts”—and now they wanted to give us things. Dad told Bob that he liked both him and Ellen for their kind treatment. He said that we would be glad to have them help us and that some day we would repay them. But he refused to accept charity from anyone else. He said, “We are poor but there is no way they are going to make my children poorer. Maria will just have to quit school till fall, and we’ll manage.” I missed my school work and tried for a long time to do it at home, but eventually gave up. I just didn’t have time and the books only seemed to taunt me and fill me with a despair I couldn’t handle.
When school was let out I started to work part-time, cleaning for people for a couple of dollars a day. Dolores was ten by now and with Robbie’s help was able to manage fairly well around the house. Jamie gave me his money to help out, and with what Dad made we ate better than usual. The few dollars I earned I spent on my two sisters. They had always worn the awful-looking dresses I made and old black farm shoes, identical to boys’ ones. With my money I was able to buy them girls’ shoes and other little things to make them feel better. I never felt badly about the boys, but many times it hurt when I saw Dolores and Peggie looking at other little girls with wishful eyes. They were so cute, the two of them, and very shy. Peggie was tiny with red hair and big blue eyes. She cried if someone even raised a voice to her, but was also a real chatterbox when we were alone. Dolores had brown hair and hazel eyes. She seldom cried and spent a great deal of time alone. She was more sensitive than Peggie, but never showed her emotions; instead she would run outside and walk around by herself until she was all right.
Robbie was growing up as well and was becoming hard to handle. He was so full of life and adventure. He could find fun and trouble anywhere and always managed to cause either the most hysterical situations for us or get us into trouble. There was seldom a happy medium for him. He was our hunter and would be gone for days on end, coming home only at suppertime, and he was our artist—with his crayons he would make pictures of all the things our people did in every-day life: Daddy skinning beaver; Grannie Dubuque drying meat; sketches of us working around the house. He saved every penny he could get and spent it on pencil crayons. When he was home in the evenings he was always sketching and drawing.
Jamie was quiet, thoughtful and very gentle, unlike the rest of us. He was also very protective. When we had problems he always found a reasonable solution, and without him, many times I wouldn’t have been able to carry on.
The three babies were inseparable, and if I held one I had to hold all three. They reminded me of affectionate little puppies, always rolling around and wrestling. Edward was the oldest of the three and looked almost identical to Geordie; they both had brown curly hair and hazel eyes. Danny—well, Danny was different. He had black hair as straight as an Indian’s and regardless of how short it was or how well combed, it always stood up like a porcupine. He was as dark as me, with huge eyes. He was always smiling in his sleep and was bigger and sturdier than the others, and much more aggressive. How we all loved those little boys!
My cleaning jobs were back-breaking. I worked on Monday and Tuesday for Mr. Grey’s oldest daughter who hated housework and should have been a man. She looked, acted and dressed like one. She was out with the cattle and sheep from early morning till late at night, leaving her three little boys to look after themselves. Her house was always messy and had dirty clothes and dishes piled all over. I had to clean the house, do the washing and ironing, bake twelve loaves of bread and have it all done by Tuesday night. She paid me five dollars, sometimes eight.
She didn’t like Indians and talked in front of me as if I were deaf. She would tell her visitors that we were only good for two things—working and fucking, if someone could get us to do it. She made jokes about hot bucks and hot squaws and talked like we were animals in the barnyard. I de
spised that woman, but because I needed the money I kept my mouth shut and pretended it didn’t bother me. Apart from that she wasn’t cruel; she used to chat with me and even let me use her horses whenever I wanted. I guess she was just frustrated with her life. Whenever she got a chance she’d go to dances in nearby Native communities and sneak off into the bush with the men. I know she made countless passes at Dad. This was common in our area: the white men were crazy about our women and the white women, although they were not as open and forward about it, were the same towards our men.
I worked for different people that summer and I got educated quickly. The other women I worked for weren’t as dirty-mouthed as Mr. Grey’s daughter, but they were far from friendly. Some watched me in case I stole something; others were afraid I would lead husbands or sons down the garden path. Although I never did, I had all the opportunities in the world. I did work for some people who were kind and paid me well. I was never brought into the family circle, but I was treated fairly and I was satisfied with that. One older Swedish couple was good to me and we got along really well. Eric was a big jovial man who always had lumps of sugar in his pockets for my little brothers, and his wife was nearly as big, with the same happy personality. They told me about Sweden and we talked about the different ways people lived. They were as interested in our people’s old way of life as I was in theirs.
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Summer was soon over and everyone was preparing for school. We had not found a housekeeper, and so I had given up even dreaming about going back. Two days before school was to start, while Daddy and I were patching pants for the boys, he asked if I really minded not going back. I guess he knew how disappointed I was. Anyway, he left without saying any more and only returned the next night. He had an Indian woman with him. She was a widow in her late thirties with no children. Dad introduced her, then took me outside for a walk while the little ones talked to her. He told me that he was going to live with Sarah, that he had known her for years and that she was a kind, clean, good woman. He wanted me to continue school and said that it would be easier for all of us to have her. He said I would like her and if I couldn’t, to try for the sake of the little ones. I was so mixed up and confused. I wanted to go to school so badly, yet I didn’t want Daddy to marry anyone. I was afraid she might be mean or else completely take over and that I’d never be able to take the little ones away to the city. When I went inside, Geordie was cuddled up on her knee and the others were all over her, demanding attention. I said nothing and went straight to bed.
When I got up in the morning to prepare breakfast it was all ready and Sarah was bustling around the kitchen as if she had always been there. Dad was right. She was a good cook and very clean, and was good to the kids. She was quiet, and although she talked often to the younger ones, we seldom said more than ten words to each other. I would come home from school and my work would all be done, even my clothes ironed, mended and folded neatly on my bed. There was more time to do the kinds of things I enjoyed, like reading or riding.
Bob and Ellen bought an old truck, so on Saturday nights Jamie, Karen, Robbie and I would go to town with them. I looked forward to the trip all week. St. Michele was a French town with a population of about one thousand which doubled on Saturdays as it was surrounded by two Indian reserves and at least ten Halfbreed settlements. Business depended on Native people. It would be jumping as people came from all over to shop, drink beer, dance and fight. There was a movie house where all the kids and the mothers who didn’t drink went and one hotel beer parlour for the men. Women were not allowed in bars then, so those who drank did it in private homes or in back of the livery stable. There was one big general store that sold everything from soup to hammers and harnesses, two small stores, and two coffee shops, one of which stayed open all night on the weekend, a livery stable, a blacksmith shop, a pool hall, a farm implement shop, a car lot, and three Roman Catholic churches and schools. The buildings were all strung out on an unpaved road, with board sidewalks. The French people lived on the south side, the Halfbreeds and Indians in the north and west ends. The two groups didn’t live side by side as they never got along, so the two sections were known as Indian and Halfbreed towns.
Early Saturday afternoons were usually quiet and the only people around were the local French and whites from surrounding areas doing their shopping. There was an unwritten law: our people never came in until after four and the whites would then turn the town over to us. They never mixed with us although their revenue depended on Native people’s money. Some of the white men stayed, usually the town drunks, the wilder sons and husbands, and a few women. The Frenchmen would never miss a good fight or a Native woman, so they were there too.
There was always a feeling of excitement in the air as people started to arrive. They came in wagons as well as broken down cars or trucks, loaded till the springs were dragging, with men, women and children all laughing, talking and singing. The Halfbreeds were noisy, boisterous and gay, while the Indians were quiet and kept to themselves. This of course only lasted until the third bottle of beer. The women did their shopping and visited, while the men all traipsed to the bar. Kids and underage boys and girls hung around on the street corners, in the pool hall and coffee shops. The stores all closed at six, the show started at eight, the dance at nine. In my younger years the shows were the biggest thrill of my life.
One show I remember was about the Northwest Rebellion. People came from miles around and the theatre was packed. They were sitting in the aisles and on the floor. Riel and Dumont were our heroes. The movie was a comedy and it was awful: the Halfbreeds were made to look like such fools that it left you wondering how they ever organized a rebellion. Gabriel Dumont looked filthy and gross. In one scene his suspenders broke and his pants fell down, and he went galloping away on a scabby horse in his long red underwear. Louis Riel was portrayed as a real lunatic who believed he was God, and his followers were real “Three Stooges” types. Of course the NWMP and General Middleton did all the heroic things. Everyone around us was laughing hysterically, including Halfbreeds, but Cheechum walked out in disgust. Many years later I saw the movie again and it made me realize that it’s no wonder my people are so fucked up.
From the time I was twelve I longed for the night I would be allowed to go to the dance in town. Daddy let me go to the dances at our school with a chaperone. But the dances in town were forbidden. Dad said that I would have to be sixteen and that even then I had better make damn sure he didn’t find out about it. He said that it was no place for a decent girl and that only whores went there. I didn’t know what a whore was, but whatever it was, it certainly sounded exciting, and I felt that if it was not too wicked for him, then it was good enough for me.
The movie was over at the same time the bar closed. By this time the men would be hammered out of their minds and fights would break out. Gradually everyone would drift to the dance hall, where strains of the “Red River Jig” could be heard. We kids would have to go sleep in the wagons after we got tired of running around, or else go to someone’s house and wait. Those little houses would be full at night, with mothers and children sleeping all over the floors, and beds piled high with babies. The parents would start gathering their kids in the early hours of Sunday morning and by ten-thirty the town would be deserted, except for French people heading for Mass.
Karen and I would hope and pray when we went to town that Dad would stay home so we would be free. If he came, we had to toe the line. Regardless of how drunk he might get, he always checked up on us three or four times in an evening. I had met a guy that summer at the horse races and my only chance to see him was each Saturday night when we went to town, and if Dad had known he would probably have grounded me. I was only fifteen and Smoky had a reputation that made even Halfbreeds shake their heads. He was twenty-four and I don’t know why he ever noticed me. He was six feet tall, which was tall for a Halfbreed in our part of the country, and he danced, foug
ht and sang through life, laughing even when he was angry or fighting.
I had met him at a horse-jumping competition and races that were being held at a nearby community. Karen and I had both entered and had practised for weeks. I was using our new horse, Brandy, and was sure I could win because he could jump any fence or barricade we put in front of him. I spent hours oiling and polishing my saddle and bridle, and when Sunday arrived Karen and I left at dawn because we wanted to get there early and rest our horses.
Brandy and I made all the barricades on the first round, and on the second we were leading with only one jump left when I felt the saddle slip. I tried to stop the horse but he was so crazy with excitement that I had no control over him. Just as he jumped the last barricade, the saddle and I flew through the air. I was knocked unconscious and woke up to see the ugliest, most handsome man (Smoky) I had ever seen in my life bending over me. When I tried to get up he laughed and said, “You won the jumping competition. Your horse finished alone when you decided to have a little sleep.” I was so excited that I forgot my bruises, my aching head, and that dreamy guy, for I had won fifty dollars. I hobbled over to Brandy and almost cried for joy. Smoky came over with my saddle and showed me the broken cinch which he said he would mend so that I could get home. He asked if I was Danny’s sister, and when I replied, “His daughter,” he laughed and said, “I guess I’ll come and visit your Dad—he’s always telling me to drop in.”