Illustration of Washo Lake in Northern Nevada from  1800’s

Prologue

Truckee, The Giver

            The Giver watched  the dust trail in the distance. Brown swirls rising from the desert floor had been spotted in the morning and had advanced with the day.              Word of the white men was known to the tribe but The Giver had met them only once before.  On that occasion he had greeted them warmly, his arms spread wide and robe thrown back.  They  had remained aloof and had not let him near their camp.  This had puzzled him, for it was told that the Numa's White Brothers would someday return to live with them in harmony.

            Now the Giver stood quietly.  The fur of his robe and his long black hair stirred in the breeze.  Tall and strong featured, his role of leader settled on him as comfortably as the rabbit furs he wore.  Respect had been earned over the years as he had drawn his band from camp to camp, harvesting the generosity of the Great Basin. 

            He wondered about these travelers, these white men.  What drew them on to the mountains, where did they come from?  Many years had passed without them in his life, why did they come now as his hair started to streak with white?

Wearing a Rabbit Skin Blanket outside of a Karnee, The traditional home of the Kuyui Dokado.  Picture from Wheat Collection

            Behind and below his vantage point in the hillside pinyons, his people, the Numa were spread around the river and lake in family camps.  The rest of the bands karnees, conical grass and willow shelters, were loosely scattered around his own.  These belonged to his three daughters and their husbands.  His eldest daughter, Tuboitonie was married to an wise young man named Poito.  They had two strong boys and two daughters, the most recent only a few months old.  Namaga at ten, was the oldest and had already killed rabbits and ground squirrels and had presented them with pride to his grandmother, mother and aunts.

            The Numa were gathered at the Humboldt Lake to harvest cattails for the coming winter.  Their camps lay scattered up and down the lakeshore, each family preparing pine nuts and drying rabbit and fish and burying their winter food in grass cairns.  The fall harvest had been plentiful and the Numa were grateful to their home and the spirits of the Great Basin.

            The trail drew southward along the river towards his own family's camp.  He knew that council would be held tonight, but his curiosity drew him down the hillside trail.  If he left now, he could meet the strange white men before they reached his home.

            The Giver drew his robe around him tightly as he worked his way down to the river.  Poito and some of the other men stood waiting to the north of all the camps.  As the Giver met them they all turned north together and travelled to where the group of whites were now stopped.

            With open arms, The Giver walked into the whites’ encampment.  A man separated from the camp construction and approached with his own hand towards The Giver.  Round blue eyes and hair on his cheeks made him look owl like.  He smiled through the whiskers and the two men clasped hands.  They settled on the rocks facing each other.

            Hunkering down, the other Numa seated themselves alongside The Giver in deference to his position. The two leaders with gestures and the repetition of words understood each others goals if not the exact meanings.

            "Stevens."  The white man touched his chest. "Stevens," he repeated.

            "Truckee."  The Giver nodded his head saying the Numa word for understanding.

            "Truckee."  Stevens again extended his hand to the Giver.

            The robed man smiled.  It appeared that the white man, Stevens, thought that his name was truckee.  So be it, they both had a long ways to go before he could try and explain the mistake.  At this time he would accept the name and be polite to the stranger.

            The Giver took a stick and drew the river then pointed to it.  He drew the lake beyond and pointed again.  Repeating with the mountains to the east and the west, he added features of the land into a map of the basin.

            "The trail continues down the desert to another lake.  That is the path that the other White Brothers took, but there is a better way."  The Giver pointed out the direction.

            Listening carefully as the white man asked him question after question, he found it possible to understand.  After a short while, he knew the white words for water and mountain.  This made the task easier.

            Stevens grew increasingly animated as The Giver drew the big white mountains to the west.  Stevens spoke quickly and called another man over to the map, looked at The Giver and pointed to the south.

            The Numa leader shook his head.  "This is where you want to cross."  He indicated a location to the north of the map and drew his stick across the big, white mountains at that point.  This was the trade route used by some of his people.  He himself had crossed the mountains several times during his life.

            Stevens and the new man were busy talking.  They pointed back and forth at the northern and southern points speaking quickly and heatedly.  Finally they pointed to the north and smiled.

            The Giver watched the two men and nodded.  They seemed to understand.  He rose and with him the other Numa got ready to leave.

            The two white men smiled and motioned to the Numa, inquiring where they were going.  The Giver gestured towards the other men and pointed at the river.  "Pah ute"  he said.  "Down the water towards our people."

            That night, the Numa men met at The Givers karnee to talk about the Whites.  Family groups from all around the lake traveled to hear what the Whites were really  like.

            "Is it true that they look like owls?"  one woman asked.

            Poito answered.  "They have hair on their faces, skin the color of the sand and beautiful eyes."  He paused for effect, "They are eyes that you can look at and look at."

            The Giver stood and spoke.  "You have heard me tell the story of our lost white brothers.  It is our duty to show them the best of the land and welcome them home, for they have been away for a long time.  In the morning I will bring them meat and nuts and cakes and pe-har-ve to celebrate their return."

            The men and women nodded.  They knew the tradition of the split that had caused First Father and First Mother to separate their dark children from their white children.  They also knew that at some point the white children were destined to return to the land.

            The Numa were satisfied.  They decided that the Giver should be the spokesperson to their white brothers.

            Over the next three days, The Giver spent time in the white camp.  He and his son helped cut grass for Stevens and his men and they shared their bountiful crops with them.  The white brothers all liked the sweet pe-har-ve cakes, made from the springtime bloom of cattails.

            Since it was time to move back to their winter grounds at the western lake,  The giver led the white men across the desert until they reached the river that came out of the Big white mountains.  Here the White Brothers continued on their way.

The Giver watched them solemnly and then returned to the Numa to lead them to their winter camp.

            It was in the cold season of the zephyr winds at the western lake when the white man came again.  The spring run of the lake bottom dwelling kuyui had not yet begun, but a patient man could get plenty of fish for his family.  It was the fish that cemented the friendship of the Numa and the white.

            The Giver and his band had built strong, warm karnees, each with a windbreak of brush around them.  As he stood in the center of the circle of homes, Poito and three other men of the band brought two White Brothers into camp.  They were weary looking and dusty from the trail.  One of the men had the bushy beard that The Giver had seen on several of the whites.  The giver motioned for them to sit and sent some of his people for food.

            The Numa men formed a circle on the ground.  Woven mats were spread for the guests.  The women and the children, somewhat curious of the whites, slowly started filling in a larger circle.  They talked quietly among themselves as they settled in.

             It was usual during council to smoke first and then discuss matters, but these white men had different ways about them.  They started in right away with their business without even waiting for all the women to seat themselves.

A clean shaven Kit Carson, picture from Library of Congress

            "I am Lieutenant Fremont and this is Kit Carson."  The white man signed and spoke, indicating himself and the bearded man he traveled with.

            The giver nodded and assented, "Truckee."

            "Ki-tuh", a small boy giggled in the outer circle.  He pointed at the traveler with hair on his mouth just as he had seen the white speaker do. 

            The adults, shocked, turned and saw the look on the child's face.  The Giver, realizing the humor of the sounds to him started laughing.  Of course the voices were funny to his people who had never before seen a white.

            "Welcome home, White Brothers."  The Giver was willing to make this into an occasion, but the whites broke directly in with  their requests.

            With gestures and words the white men signified their desire for information about the trail and possibly men who would serve as guides.  The Giver was more than willing to share what information he had. 

            A young man came into camp at that moment with a large winter trout he had just caught at the weir.  The two whites jumped up and showed amazement at the size of the fish.  Poito immediately instructed Tuboitonie to cook the fish for the men while several other youth ran off to catch more.

            The group spent the afternoon talking and eating fish.  Every few minutes another large fish was brought into the camp and displayed to the whites.  Even ten year old Natchez managed to bring in a beautiful fish half the length of his young body.

            As the sun started to fade, several of the men and boys collected the catch and returned with Fremont and Carson to their camp.  At the sight of the fresh trout, the excitement was great.  Fires were immediately built and fish were cooked in every way, boiled, fried and roasted.  It made The Giver feel good to see his lost brothers eat so well.

            The Numa men decided to spend the night with the travellers.  They still hadn't decided on whether to go with them or not and discussed it into the late evening.  The Giver was curious about the ways of the whites and wanted to go.

            "Some of us have made the journey ourselves to trade with the Washoe and Miwok." He warmed to the idea as he talked.  "Word has come to us that they have great things on the other side of the mountains.  Let us go see them."

            "Many of us have young who are not ready for such a trip, Father."  Poito broke his father-in-law's reverie.  "It is best for them to stay here, and I would not leave Tuboitonie to worry about the small ones herself."

            The Giver saw that the group was split. A  few of the young men without wives were willing to go, but the middle of winter was a dangerous time for family groups to travel.

            "A decision can be made later."  It was a good thing to think over for a day or so, thought The Giver.

            The next few days were spent helping Fremont and his men.  Their tired stock grazed in the meadows around the lake and river while the trail-weary men fed on fish caught by the Numa.  As the men worked, The Giver became convinced he wanted to see what the whites had to offer across the mountains.

            The Numa gathered in council.  "There are some of us who would like to travel and those who wisely choose to stay."  The Giver had made his decision and it was time to share with the band. "Poito, I give you the name I have been known by.  The people will call you Winnemucca, The Giver.  I will travel with Fremont in the  morning and will go by the name that they call me."

            "Truckee."  Poito smiled.  He would miss his father-in-law and the young men who would travel with him.

            Twelve men left in the morning with the whites.  Tuboitonie and Winnemucca walked with Truckee along the river for a ways.  In Tuboitonie’s arms was the five-month-old baby Shell Flower who had been named because her perfect mouth reminded her parents of the spring flower.

            Truckee took the child in his own arms. " My sweet,  I leave my heart here with you, beautiful child.  I'll be back to collect it someday."  He kissed the child and left.