“All of my misery for the crime of falling in love with a common man. All of my heartbreak, torture, and punishment because I chose to bring you, my dearest children, into the world. All of my black and hopeless despair because I chose an unconventional life […]”

Writing to the children from whom she has been separated, May explains the reasons for her institutionalization. The use of anaphora, repeating the phrase “All of my,” builds rhetorical force and emphasizes the perceived injustice of her situation. By defining her “crimes” as love, childbirth, and unconventionality, the passage critiques the rigid patriarchal standards of her society, directly supporting the theme of The Hypocrisy of White Society. The direct address to her children establishes the journal’s primary function as a testament to her sanity and maternal love.

“I fail to see myself where exactly the sport in this slaughter lies as the buffalo seem to be as stupid and trusting as dairy cows. […] Such an ugly, unnatural thing can come to no good in God’s eyes or anyone else’s for that matter. I can’t help but think once again what a foolish, loutish creature is man.”

May observes men shooting buffalo from the train for entertainment. Her narration employs dramatic irony, as the reader understands the buffalo’s critical importance to the Plains tribes, a fact of which May is not yet fully aware. The simile comparing the wild buffalo to “dairy cows” underscores their vulnerability and the senseless, “unnatural” violence of the “civilized” men. This scene serves as an indictment of the wasteful and destructive nature of westward expansion, challenging the binary of civilized white people and uncivilized Indigenous people.

“[M]adness, the entire project is utter madness.”

Captain John G. Bourke, an experienced army officer, expresses his private opinion of the “Brides for Indians” program to May. Coming from a figure of authority who understands both government policy and frontier realities, this blunt assessment introduces significant foreshadowing and dramatic irony. The declaration of “madness” reframes May’s escape from a mental healthcare facility as an entry into a larger, state-sanctioned “insanity.” Bourke’s words are the first clear indication from an insider that the assimilationist premise of the program is not just naive but dangerously flawed.

“But it has been clear from the beginning, and never more so than at this moment, that we are in the process of entering a new world, that the civilization which we have inhabited all our lives is crumbling away beneath us like an enormous sinkhole opening under our feet.”

As she and the other women are first inspected by the Cheyenne warriors, May reflects on the finality of their journey. The simile comparing the loss of her former world to a “sinkhole” conveys a sense of sudden, irreversible collapse and the complete loss of a stable identity. This quote marks the narrative’s primary turning point, where the theoretical premise of the BFI program becomes a terrifying reality. It signifies the complete dissolution of the women’s connection to “civilization” and their forced entry into a disorienting new existence.

“The savages are not just a race separate from ours; they are a species distinct.”

In an attempt to dissuade May from continuing, Captain Bourke reveals the depth of his prejudice. This declaration epitomizes the theme of Cultural Incomprehension and the Failure of Assimilation, articulating the dehumanizing worldview that underpins the era’s policy toward Indigenous people. By framing the Cheyenne as a different “species,” Bourke denies any possibility of common ground or successful assimilation, foreshadowing the tragic failure of the BFI program. The statement starkly defines the immense cultural and psychological chasm that May and the other women are about to cross.

“‘Oh May,’ she said, ‘I did not come here to be made a slave again. […] I’m a free woman. From now on I choose my work.’”

Phemie Washington, a formerly enslaved woman, explains her refusal to perform traditional chores. Her direct assertion of autonomy serves as a foil to the other women’s initial compliance, establishing her as an agent of self-determination. Phemie’s dialogue explicitly links her past trauma with her present actions, framing her choice not simply as defiance but as a necessary act of survival. This quote illustrates the theme of Female Agency in Patriarchal Systems.

“The hope of the church and the State is that being half-Caucasian by blood, your children will have a distinct spiritual and intellectual advantage over the purebred heathens, and that the savages will in turn peacefully follow this superior new generation into the bosom of civilization.”

Reverend Hare reveals the government’s true assimilationist strategy behind the “Brides for Indians” program. The diction—“advantage,” “superior new generation,” “purebred heathens”—exposes the deeply racist and eugenicist ideology underpinning the mission. Fergus uses Hare’s speech to underscore the theme of the hypocrisy of white society, revealing the program not as a benevolent peace plan but as a calculated method of cultural and genetic colonialism.

“The clothes and meager personal possessions which we have brought with us into this wilderness represent our last connection to the civilized world, so we are naturally reluctant to part with them—for fear that once we don savage garb, we become perforce savages […] This is, you understand, an important distinction.”

In a letter to her sister, May reflects on the significance of the women’s attire before her wedding. This passage utilizes the motif of clothing and appearance to symbolize the fragile boundary between the women’s past and present identities. The phrase “perforce savages” highlights the fear of losing one’s cultural self, demonstrating that the transition is not merely physical but deeply psychological.

“I dreamed that I saw his manhood grow from beneath his breechclout like a serpent as he danced […] And then it entered me deeply, completely, and the strange sound rose again in my throat and my body trembled, shook, and bucked, and in my dream I was not a human being any longer […] but became a part of something older and more primitive, truer.”

May describes her wedding night consummation with Little Wolf as a dreamlike, almost mystical experience. The use of the serpent simile evokes ancient, pre-Christian symbolism, while the diction (“older,” “primitive,” “truer”) subverts the conventional negative connotations of “savage” life. By framing this union as both animalistic and spiritually authentic, the author challenges the rigid “civilized” notions of sexuality and humanity.

“‘You have much to learn about your new people, my sweet salope,’ Seminole said. ‘A more fearless warrior than your husband does not live among the People, but Little Wolf is the Sweet Medicine Chief. […] He is forbidden by tribal law from raising a hand against me, because to do so would be an act of selfishness.’”

The antagonist Jules Seminole explains why Chief Little Wolf is powerless to retaliate against him for his threats. Seminole’s speech establishes a crucial plot conflict while simultaneously revealing the complexity of Cheyenne law, which contrasts with the stereotype of lawless violence. The situational irony of a sacred law protecting a villain highlights the vulnerability of individuals within any structured society, civilized or not.

“Now if word gets out among the Injuns that the Great Father in Washington is—number one—backin’ out of the brides deal, and—number two—plannin’ to take the Black Hills back, well just all kinds a shit’s goin’ to fall from the skies. The Cap’n don’t want you in the middle a that. He wants you to come back to Robinson with me.”

The teamster Gertie delivers Captain Bourke’s warning, revealing the government’s dual betrayals concerning the BFI program and the Fort Laramie treaty. Gertie’s colloquial, direct language makes the political machinations stark and immediate, stripping them of bureaucratic pretense. This passage marks a critical turning point, exposing the program as a temporary, disposable tactic in the larger strategy of westward expansion and underscoring the government’s hypocrisy.

“It occurs to me in response to the conversation I once had with Captain Bourke in which he asked, rhetorically, ‘Where is the savage’s Shakespeare?’ that possibly the reason the aboriginals have made scant contributions to world literature and art, is that they are simply too busy living—moving, hunting, working—without the luxury of time to record the process.”

In this journal entry, May’s internal monologue revisits an earlier debate, signifying a shift in her cultural perspective. She reframes the Cheyenne’s lack of a Western-style literary canon not as a deficiency but as a result of a life of action over contemplation. This reflection directly challenges the Eurocentric standards of “civilization” and supports the theme of cultural incomprehension and the failure of assimilation by suggesting that different cultures possess fundamentally different values and modes of existence.

“[T]ruly we are all of us savages now […] anointed together in this bloody sacrament of revenge […] for we took pleasure in our enemies’ death and mutilations, and shall never be the same for it […] we have seen the savagery in our own hearts […] have exulted in blood and vengeance […] have danced over the scalps of enemies.”

Following the rescue from the Crow abductors, May’s narration marks a crucial psychological transformation for the white women. The author uses the religious metaphor of a “bloody sacrament” to frame their shared trauma and violent retribution as a dark, unifying initiation. This moment dissolves the binary between “civilized” and “savage,” demonstrating that the capacity for brutality is universal and that the women’s identities have been irrevocably altered by their experience.

“I’ve been buked and I’ve been scorned, / I’ve been buked and I’ve been scorned, children / I’ve been buked and I’ve been scorned, / I’ve been talked about sure’s you born.”

As the women face insults upon returning to Fort Laramie, Phemie initiates the singing of a Black spiritual, an act of collective defiance. The song itself functions as a symbol, linking the women’s status as outcasts to the historical oppression of enslaved people. This moment demonstrates female agency in patriarchal systems, as the women use a song of resilience to create solidarity and reclaim their dignity against the hypocrisy of the very society that sent them away.

“‘We are teaching the savages, in a relatively harmless manner, that their superstitions are helpless against our own superior powers,’ he said. ‘It’s a lesson better learned here, madam, than elsewhere, I can assure you.’”

Captain Bourke’s justification for humiliating the Cheyenne medicine men with an electrical battery reveals the paternalistic and arrogant ideology driving the US government’s actions. The characterization of the event as a “lesson” in “superior powers” exposes the belief that technological dominance is equivalent to moral and cultural superiority. This dialogue directly articulates the central conflict of the hypocrisy of white society, framing conquest as a form of education for the “helpless” natives.

“How strange to recall that six months ago we departed Fort Laramie as anxious white women entering the wilderness for the first time; and now, perhaps equally anxious, we leave as squaws returning home. I realized anew as we rode into the cold wind on this morning that my own commitment had been sealed forever by the heart that beats in my belly; that I could not have remained even if I so wished.”

May’s reflection serves as a concise summary of her complete assimilation, contrasting her past and present identities. While she uses stigmatizing language, highlighting the white supremacy that remains part of her ideology, her self-identification as a “squaw returning home” marks the finality of her cultural shift. This is a change she connects directly to her pregnancy, which symbolizes a biological and emotional bond to her new life. This passage encapsulates her acceptance of a new fate, where her commitment is no longer a choice but an unalterable reality.

“‘In my vision, I saw the People’s lodges consumed in flames,’ she began. ‘I saw all of our possessions stacked by the soldiers in huge piles and set afire—everything destroyed, everything we own consumed by the flames. I saw the People driven naked into the hills, where we crouched like animals among the rocks.’ […] ‘many babies freezing blue as chunks of river ice in their mother’s arms.’”

The medicine woman’s prophecy functions as dramatic irony and foreshadowing, directly predicting the novel’s tragic conclusion. The vivid, apocalyptic imagery—lodges in flames, people driven into the cold, and frozen babies—contrasts sharply with the “civilizing” rhetoric of the US government. This vision introduces a key element of the Cheyenne worldview, highlighting a spiritual understanding of the world that the white characters cannot comprehend, while simultaneously building suspense and a sense of impending doom.

“The law made by the whites,’ Phemie says. ‘The whites being, of course, the superior race, who make these laws in order to keep the inferior in their place. That, May, is, by definition, slavery.’”

In this dialogue, Phemie uses logic and rhetorical framing to dismantle May’s defense of the reservation system. By drawing a direct parallel between government-mandated reservations and the institution of slavery she personally escaped, Phemie exposes the paternalistic and coercive nature of the assimilation policy. This exchange highlights the hypocrisy of white society, arguing that the legal structures of white America simply replicate systems of oppression under a different name.

“‘You know what we shall do, Gretchen?’ I suggested. ‘We shall build our own sweat lodge for the women. Yes, it promises to be a long winter, and we have plenty of hides and nothing but time, so we shall all band together to sew our own sweat lodge, and when we are finished, there will be no men allowed! It will be strictly a girls’ club.’”

After being barred from the men’s sweat lodge, May proposes this project as an act of collective female resistance. The creation of a “girls’ club” that adopts a Cheyenne custom but subverts its gendered restrictions demonstrates the theme of female agency in patriarchal systems. By building their own sacred space, the white women carve out a sphere of autonomy, blending cultural practices to suit their own needs and create a new, hybrid community.

“It is the white man way to kill all the animals, to drive them away. It is not the way of the People, for we and all the other animals have lived here together, we have always shared, and until the white man came there has always been enough for everyone. Therefore, we will no longer permit the arsenic in this camp. That is my decision.”

Speaking in council after a near-fatal poisoning accident, Little Wolf contrasts two distinct worldviews. He articulates an Indigenous ethos of ecological balance and communal sharing, directly opposing it to the destructive, individualistic “white man way.” Fergus uses this speech to challenge the “savage” stereotype, presenting Little Wolf as a thoughtful leader whose reasoning is based on tradition, observation, and a sense of responsibility to his entire environment.

“‘Ve’ho’me’esevotse,’ said the woman with a tone of wonder in her voice, ‘Ve’ho’me’esevotse.’ […] ‘But, honey, the medicine woman is right, she ain’t no Indian baby, she’s a ve’ho’me’esevotse, just like she said, a white baby, like them others is saying - ve’ho’ka’kesoas, a little white girl if ever I seen one.’”

This quote captures the pivotal moment of the birth of May’s daughter. The repetition of the Cheyenne term for “white baby” underscores the cultural shock and the immediate, mythic significance the Cheyenne attach to the child’s appearance. The juxtaposition of the medicine woman’s “wonder” with Gertie’s blunt, factual translation highlights the theme of Cultural Incomprehension, as the same biological fact is instantly interpreted through two vastly different cultural lenses: one spiritual, the other practical.

“And the man danced and sang, proudly holding his grisly trophy aloft. […] ‘In this bag are the right hands of twelve Shoshone babies, this is the power of their tribe and now it is ours. I give this as a gift to our daughters. Our children own this power.’”

The warrior’s declaration during the victory dance marks a significant and horrific turning point, shattering May’s remaining idealism about her mission. The description of the “grisly trophy” as a “gift” of “power” reveals a facet of Cheyenne warrior culture that is incomprehensible and morally repugnant to the white women. This moment violently dismantles any simplistic binary between “civilized” and “savage,” exposing a brutal logic that serves as the final catalyst for the story’s tragic conclusion.

“And tell Captain John Bourke this from me—he will recognize it: tell him ‘It is a wise father that knows his own child.’”

These are May’s final recorded words, a message for Martha to deliver to the man who has just killed Horse Boy and led the attack on her village. The line is a direct literary allusion to Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice (1596), a text she and Bourke once shared, repurposing a moment of intellectual connection to deliver a personal truth about their daughter’s parentage. This final act of agency ensures her personal history is communicated, functioning as a tragic coda to their relationship and the failed government program.