The People: And Other Uncollected Fiction by Bernard Malamud Read Free Book Online

valley.”
    “Where will we go?” asked Yozip.

    “No doubt they have in mind an inferior reservation where the soil and fishing can hardly compare to ours. I have told them that death lives on that reservation, and we cannot live with death.”
    “Ai,” said Indian Head.
    “Ai,” said One Blossom.
    The chief said the Indian Commissioner’s threat bled their morale.
    “We have managed for years through great efforts to hold the bloodsucking whites at a distance. But the time may come when we shall have to defend ourselves with arms. This is a great disadvantage because they have superior arms and all we have is our will. Although our will is of iron it does not shoot bullets.”
    “I don’t like bullets,” Yozip said.
    “We are sending you to Washington to speak with your eloquence on our behalf. We send you to speak for our tribe that has chosen you to be our brother. We must now do what we have never done before. You will go in our name and plead with the Commissioner to soften his heart to our request. He must be merciful to his brothers who walk in rain in their red skins.”
    But Yozip was still worried. “What can a greenhorn do for you in such a city as Washington? Suppose they say I am not yet a citizen and so they keep from me my citizen papers?”
    “None of us have citizen papers,” said Indian Head. “They call us native Indians and treat us as native strangers. When an American looks at an Indian he expects to see lice crawling on his head. One Blossom hides her head with her hat. The whites have no respect for us. They cheat us of our past.”
    “You must go,” announced the chief. “You are capable. I am old and my children are not eloquent. If you don’t go with your vibrant voice and presence to speak for our rights they will rob us of our last spot of green land.”
    “You must go,” said One Blossom. Her eyes glistened.
    Yozip was already on his feet.
    “I will brush my Bessie.”
    “You will go on the iron train in Montana that eats up wood and spits out miles,” said the chief.

    One Blossom found a pair of beaded moccasins for Yozip. He wore buckskin pants, a deerskin shirt, and a thick headband over his reddish long hair. Since joining the tribe, Yozip’s hair had turned a brownish red. Only his face was shaved clean. He shaved with a piece of plate glass the chief had presented to him. One Blossom wound a cord around a white feather in his thick hair. Yozip also wore three sets of heavy black beads around his neck. The chief had given him a pair of gold earrings, but the new Indian was too shy to wear them. And he carried a jacket a good-hearted squaw had given him, and was thinking of investing in a new pair of field boots.
    Indian Head, three braves, and One Blossom accompanied him on their ponies to the iron horse that left from the station in Helena, Montana. Yozip sat in the rocking train astonished by the ride and the view. From one window he saw a herd of buffalo walking in single file in the snow. Farther up the line, two elephantine buffalo were fearfully facing the iron horse as it chugged along. Nearby a buffalo defecated in the snow.
    I feel alone like him, Yozip thought, but I hope nobody will see me the way I see him.
    On the train Yozip met a drummer who tried to engage him in a conversation.
    “By God, an Indian. I didn’t think they let you ride on trains. At least you don’t look like a full-blooded Indian to me. Who the hell are you?”
    “I go to Washington.”
    The drummer fell silent, then asked, “What’s the difference between a horse’s ass and a horse who is an ass?”
    Yozip could not tell him.
    “None.”
    “What did the hoor say to the Indian chief with the big prick?” the salesman asked with a chuckle.
    “Excuse me, this I don’t know.”
    “That will cost you double.” The drummer laughed hoarsely.
    In five days and nights Yozip arrived in Washington, D.C., excited to be in the capital of the United States of America.

    He had been