Three Strong Western Women by Carol Sletten
Beginning of Act One:
Emma Lee walks into the spotlight after the audience has heard a
short section of an old-timey fiddle tune.
EMMA:
Home.homethat simple little word holds a deep meaning for most
of us womenfolk. It is especially poignant to a pioneer woman like
me.
I remember whispering "home" over and over again while I was
pushing or pulling a heavy handcart across the desert and through the
mountains. I wasn't homesick for the dreary, impoverished town that
I had left behind in England. I was dreaming about my future in the
golden West—the future promised to me by the Mormon missionaries.
The idea of having a home in Zion helped me endure my hunger and
thirst, the unbearably hot and cold weather, and most of all the
look of suffering in the eyes of my sick and dying companions.
At times the murmured sound brought forth a faint image of heaven,
which helped me bear the bitter sorrow of having to leave so many of
my fellow converts in shallow graves along the trail.
I think God let me hang on to the word "Home" because He
understood I was too tired and discouraged to string together enough
words to form a prayer. He knew I needed extra strength so that I
could take care of all the immigrants who were falling ill along the
trail. And He gave it to me. How else could I have pushed a
malnourished mother and her newborn in a handcart for two days after I
had exhausted myself helping them both survive the birth?
The word "home" was on my mind in a bittersweet way when I hobbled
into Salt Lake City in the company of my half-starved, frostbitten
brothers and sisters. We were certainly a sadly diminished remnant of
our original party of newly converted Latter-day Saints, who had left
Iowa City with so much optimism.
After thanking God for helping me survive the tribulations of our
1,300-mile trek, I fell to my knees and told Him that if He'd give
me a family, I'd do everything in my power to make them feel like
they had a real home no matter how difficult the circumstances or how
desolate the location.
Today, 40 years after I made that promise, my family's home is in
Winslow, Arizona, a dusty little railroad town where folks call me
Doctor Grandma French. Of course, I wouldn't be recognized by that
name in the wider world. Most people think of me as Emma Lee, the 17th
plural wife of John D. Lee, the only man to be convicted and executed
for the 1857 Mountain Meadows Massacre.
. . .
Beginning of Act Two:
Minnie walks into the spotlight after the audience has heard a short
section of "Abide with Me."
MINNIE:
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be Mother of the Year for
the entire country. But look here it is the certificate that
names me 1967 National Mother of the Year.
What a surprise that something like that could happen to me! I can't
even remember the last time that I dreamed about anything for myself
partly because my life has been so rich and fulfilling but
mostly because I've lived for 56 years among the Apaches, whose
needs are so much greater than mine.
. . .
Beginning of Act Three:
Lozen walks into the spotlight after the audience has heard the sound
of Apache drums.
LOZEN:
The moon is hanging low in the sky. He's watching me roam around
like a ghost, while memories of battles, lost and won, haunt my mind
and make me weary. I'm too restless to sleep since I know nothing
will be the same after we surrender tomorrow.
We will be taken to a place called Florida a place so far away in
the direction of the rising sun that we will never be able to escape
and come home again.
Never again will we be able to find refuge in the cliffs and canyons
that we know so well.
Never again will we be able to sense the Creator 's presence on the
summits of our sacred peaks, or feel His healing Power in the water of
our Sacred Springs.
We are the last of our people to be free. After we surrender, the
Earth will never again hear the sound of FREE Apaches laughing with
our children, or hear the hooves of our horses thundering over the
land of our ancestors.
After tonight, I will be a diminished person only HALF of what I
have been. I will never again wear the garment of a Two-Sided Woman.
I will take off this medicine robe and bury it deep inside a cave. And
then, when I see the first faint glow of daylight creeping up over the
mountains, I will tear my spirit in two and leave the warrior side of
myself next to the cave.
Ussen created me to be a Two-Sided Woman.
I didn't know that when I was a child living in the land of my
people near our sacred Warm Springs.
I was busy learning how to use a knife, ride horses, shoot, and run
like the wind before I disappeared into thin air.
Apaches are born into a wild and beautiful world a world that is
both dangerous and wonderful. We have many enemies so we train all our
children to be tough.
I was the toughest and fastest child that anyone had ever seen. Nobody
could keep up with me! My victories made the women in my clan laugh
and shout and stomp their feet. Nana, our old war chief, would laugh
with them. He'd hold up his hands and howl like a coyote whenever
he'd see me outrun, outshoot and outride the boys.
My older brother, Victorio, was proud of me, too. He let me come along
when he and his friends were tracking game, rounding up wild horses
and practicing to be warriors.
I liked keeping up with those much older, long-legged youths. It was
worth it to put up with their teasing because they turned me into a
ferocious fighter!