The When, Where and How of Tipi Building

The word "tipi" comes from the Lakota Sioux language. It consists of two parts: thí, meaning "to dwell," and pi, meaning "they dwell." Combined, thípi means house.
 

Tipis painted by George Catlin, who visited several tribes
 including the Kiowa in the 1830s

Ever wonder who invented the tipi, (also teepee, tepee)? Was it the Native American tribes of the Great Plains? They’re the people we most often associate with the conical shelter, but no, they were not the first to design and build a portable home that could easily be hauled from place to place.

According to the late James H. Creighton, a tipi lover and historian, “The conical home is as old as man and has multiple origins worldwide.” And, “Today, the nomadic Laplanders still use reindeer-hide lodges very similar to the Plains tipi, as do indigenous tribal groups across Siberia and into Mongolia. In ancient Europe, I am sure that the tipi-style lodge was also used both as temporary hunting lodges as well as permanent homes.”

Creighton’s reference to tipis used in Siberia suggests, to me at least, that the structure was likely brought to North America across the Bering Land Bridge millennia ago by Old Worlders migrating to the New World. It’s not hard to imagine how such ancient tipis could evolve into the classic ones used by the Great Plains tribes.

Lakota Sioux tipi 1891; notice little girl
 and puppy seated out front

 

 The tipi was remarkably durable and comfortable. It provided warmth in winter, when an inner liner was often added; it kept the dwellers dry during heavy rains, and cool during the heat of summer, when the bottom could be rolled up to allow ventilation. Adjustable flaps at the top let smoke escape, allowing a fire to be built in the center of the lodge. Best of all, the tipi was portable, a necessity for nomadic people. It could be broken down quickly and formed into a travois by lashing the poles to the sides of a horse and spreading the hide cover over the poles, providing a place to pile a family’s belongings. The whole process could be reversed just as quickly when they settled in a new area.
 

Crow lodge interior 1907; poles & outer skin at top,
inner lining and bedding below; clothing hanging
 on line strung between two tipi poles

Fine, but how on earth did a pair of women (it was women’s work) manage to erect pole supports that might be three times their height, lash them together at the top and spread the semi-circular hide or cloth cover around the poles – without a ladder? Sounds impossible, doesn’t it? But it wasn’t for people who used their brains as well as their strength to survive.

In an article titled “Tipi Technology” (at http://tinyurl/cq49bkd) I found a fascinating description of how a tipi was erected by the Blackfoot people:

“In demonstrating the Blackfoot solution, Long Standing Bear Chief used a rope about 40-50 feet long to tie the ends of the original four bundled poles together. He wound the excess rope into a coil. After "walking" the poles upright by hoisting the tied ends over his head and working his way down, he opened the bundle and spread the supports. He added more poles by propping them against the apex of the basic pyramidal structure. He then unwound the rope coil and walked around the tipi, whipping the rope up and tightening it to tie the outside poles into the rest of the tipi. The final touch was lifting the canvas, rolled onto one last pole, and unfurling it around the tipi to yield a round roomy living space.”

Pretty ingenious! Now I’d like to share a short excerpt from Dearest Druid. To set the scene, Jack and Rose are just arriving in his mother’s Kiowa village. Keep in mind this is after the tribe was confined on the Kiowa-Comanche-Apache Reservation in the Indian Territory. Adjusting to a new way of life was not easy for them.

By then they’d left the mountains behind and the sun hung low in the west, bathing the scene in the golden glow of late afternoon. Rose was surprised to see barely a half dozen tipis situated beside a meandering, tree-lined creek. A short way off, a large, rounded hill jutted from the surrounding plains. “I thought ’twould be bigger. The village, I mean.”

“The Army frowns on large camps. They’re afraid the warriors, what’s left of ’em, might plot trouble.” Jack pointed into the distance. “You can’t see ’em from here, but there are more camps farther along Rainy Mountain Creek.” He crooked his thumb toward the lone hill. “That’s Rainy Mountain. For the Kiowa, it’s kind of a signpost or a guardian, you might say.”

Rose thought the mountain and the peaceful setting quite lovely. Viewed up close, though, the village lost much of its charm. The hide tipis were patched and shabby looking, their painted designs faded. Several women, wearing a variety of animal skin and cloth costumes, worked at campfires, evidently preparing supper, while the men sat cross-legged outside their shelters, talking or simply staring at nothing. A few small children, both boys and girls, ran back and forth, kicking around a beat up cloth ball. Two older boys stood watching the game, while here and there an adolescent girl worked beside the women. All of them, except the youngest, had a dispirited air about them, Rose noted.

As she and Jack rode in, several mangy, underfed dogs set up a racket, barking and circling their horses. Everyone in the camp turned to stare. Jack raised his hand in greeting, drawing stilted nods from some of the men. One of the little boys who’d been playing ball shrieked, “Jack!” and came running as they dismounted. The child hurled himself at Jack’s legs, shrilling something in Kiowa.

“Whoa there,” Jack said. Chuckling, he scooped up the boy and returned his fervent hug. He rattled off what sounded like a question, and the boy gave a high-pitched reply, pointing toward the creek. Turning to Rose, Jack explained, “This is Tsoia’s son, Tsahle-ee. He says his pa is hunting for supper.”

Rose smiled brightly at the little boy. “Hello.” She didn’t try to pronounce his name, fearing she’d mangle it. He gave her a shy grin, revealing two missing baby teeth, and hid his face against Jack’s shoulder.

By now, the adults had gathered around. They began speaking and gesturing at Rose, no doubt asking who she was and what she was doing here, making her uncomfortable and causing her to clutch her cross.

Photos were obtained from Wikipedia Commons and are copyright free.

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How Characters Guide Research and Plot

Characters often guide my research and plot ideas, even before I really get to know them. That was the case with Choctaw Jack, a secondary character from Dashing Druid, book two in my Texas Druids series. Inspired by a real life cowboy, Cherokee Bill, Jack is meant to honor unheralded Native Americans who worked on ranches and helped drive cattle to northern markets. Another character, Dewey Sherman, represents the many black cowboys, often freed slaves, who rode the range after the Civil War. (Dewey may one day get his own book.)

Choctaw Jack remained an enigma throughout Dashing D. Handsome, charming yet brooding at times, he fascinated me. I wrote him as a Choctaw half-breed who served in the Confederate Army with the brother of Lil Crawford, book two’s heroine. Since war’s end, he’s turned up each spring at the Crawfords’ ranch, just in time for the trail drive to Kansas. That’s all I knew about him.

When I began plotting Dearest Druid, book three in the series, Choctaw Jack insisted on playing the hero, but casting him opposite Rose Devlin, youngest of the Devlin siblings, proved challenging. I’d never written a Native American romance, meaning lots of research lay in store for me, and I would need to get inside the head of a man who stemmed from a different culture. Whether I succeeded at that, readers will have to judge.

Another problem arose. The Choctaws were one of the “Five Civilized Tribes” who had adapted in part to white ways. Like the Cherokees, they’d been forced from their eastern homelands, suffering their own Trail of Tears, and most were settled in the Indian Territory (Oklahoma) years before the Civil War. By 1876, when Dearest D. takes place, many Choctaws lived peacefully as farmers, stockmen or storekeepers (though not all.) The trouble was I wanted a more wild-west setting to contrast sharply with Rose’s sheltered youth in a convent. Thus, I decided to give Jack a hidden connection to one of the untamed plains tribes.

The two tribes I considered were the Kiowa and the Comanche, the great horse lords of the southern plains. Closely allied, these two tribes held off white settlement for decades prior to their defeat in 1874. (See http://cowboykisses.blogspot.com/2012/08/mackenzies-raiders.html ) Since the Comanche have often been portrayed in books, I chose to write about the Kiowa.

 

Elk Mountain in the Wichitas

Making Jack half Kiowa, a fact he has concealed due to white hatred toward the fierce raiders, allowed me to send Rose and him on a trek to the Kiowa-Comanche-Apache Reservation, where the heart of their story takes place. I traveled to Oklahoma for a firsthand view of the land, and visited Fort Sill and the Wichita Mountains, two important settings in the book.

From books and websites I learned about Kiowa myth and spirituality, their migration from the far northern mountains to the southern plains, and their reverence for Rainy Mountain, near which I placed Jack’s Kiowa kin. I also learned about their hardships on the reservation, how they missed hunting buffalo after the great beasts were decimated by white hunters, and about remedies they used for everything from coughs to snakebite. Here’s an excerpt from Dearest Druid illustrating the latter:

Dearest Druid cover, almost complete

“Did you see where the snake went?” he asked unnecessarily, trying to distract her from what he was about to do.

“It slithered off that way,” she said, turning her head and gesturing toward the trail he’d already spotted. While she was looking away, Jack made two swift cuts across the bite. Rose shrieked and tried to pull away, but he hung on to her arm.

“Hold still,” he ordered, tossing his hat on the ground. “I’ve got to suck out the venom.” With that, he bent, circled the bloody wound with his lips and sucked as hard as he could. Ignoring her gasp of pain, he spat and repeated the process. When he figured he’d drawn out as much venom as he could, he loosened his bandana and retied it directly over the wound.

“W-won’t the poison sicken you?” she asked.

“No. It doesn’t work like that. Come on. Let’s get you back to the horses.” Slapping his hat back on, he helped her up and carefully guided her out of the prairie dog colony. Once on safe ground, he had her sit on a small hillock near their mounts. She was still shaking despite the warmth of the day. Retrieving her coat from Brownie’s saddle, he draped it around her shoulders, hoping it would stop her trembling.

“I want to find something to treat the bite. Stay right here. Understand?” he said sternly.

“Aye. I won’t move.”

“Good.” Striding away, he headed back up their trail, toward where he’d seen the bush he was looking for. It didn’t take long to find. Hurriedly, he gathered what he needed, turned and ran back to Rose. True to her word, she sat hunched over where he’d left her with her injured arm cradled close and her cross clasped in her other hand. The arm was beginning to swell, Jack noticed when she straightened and looked up at his approach. He read fear in her blue eyes.

“How do you feel?” he asked, crouching beside her.

“My arm hurts.”

“I expect it does. I’m gonna make a poultice and spread it over the bite. Then we’ll start back.”

“To the village?”

“Yeah. My mother’s a medicine woman, remember? She’ll take care of you.” For a brief instant, he wondered if he’d do better taking her to Fort Sill for doctoring, but he dismissed the idea. He trusted his mother’s medicine more than the Army sawbones.

“Oh. That’s nice,” she said distantly.

He frowned, realizing the venom was starting to affect her. “This is buffalo currant. It’s good for snakebite,” he explained, using his knife to quickly strip away the outer bark from the branches he’d gathered. They gave off a spicy scent. Next, he peeled off pieces of tender inner bark, wadded them into his mouth and began to chew. They tasted bitter as gall. He’d seen his mother boil the bark into a poultice but had never known her to chew it. Was it poisonous? He didn’t know and didn’t care. As he chewed, he untied the bandana from Rose’s arm. Once the bark had softened into a pulp, he removed it from his mouth and spread it over the oozing wound.

Rose jumped. “Ayeee! That hurts worse,” she complained.

“I know, but it’ll help,” he told her, securing his bandana in place over the poultice. His mother, like her people, believed snakes were afraid of the buffalo currant bush and that it was a cure for snakebite. He prayed to the Kiowa gods that it was true.

Dearest Druid will be available in mid-April on Amazon.

My Other Books:

Water Witch (prequel novella to Texas Druids trilogy)
Darlin’ Druid (Texas Druids, Book I)
Dashing Druid (Texas Druids, Book II)
Texas Druids Duo (White Witch & Darlin' Druid together at bargain price)
Six Cats In My Kitchen (memoir about cats, family& life with a disability)

To learn more about the Kiowa, Choctaw and the Indian Territory, try these great sources:

The Kiowa by Mildred P. Mayhall
Bad Medicine and Good, Tales of the Kiowas by Wilbur Sturtevant Nye
The Way to Rainy Mountain by N. Scott Momaday

Carbine and Lance: The Story of Old Fort Sill by Wilbur Sturtevant Nye

Ranald S. Mackenzie on the Texas Frontier by Ernest Wallace
Black, Red and Deadly, Black and Indian Gunfighters of the Indian Territories by Art Burton

Civil War in the Indian Territory by Steve Cottrell