Reservation cops responded to my call, and when they arrived they took me to the hospital. The doctor, after he washed and dressed my wounds, told me I was lucky. The truck must have rolled over my leg just right. I lost a couple layers of skin along my hand, wrist, and one arm. After I was bandaged, the police took me to the station where I began answering questions for their report when Bev walked in. Apparently, after Mead ran me over with the truck, he took Bev out in the woods to rape her. When he stopped the truck, she jumped out and ran. She ran faster than he did and made it into town where she called the police. She was glad that I was okay, and I felt the same about her. We were told by one of the officers that somebody would give us a ride over to Bev’s place. We sat in the station for more than an hour before that happened, though.
Bev was not a beauty queen, but she was not unattractive either. She was a strong woman. She knew who she was and what she wanted. She worked with the Indians in Arizona and Montana and she wanted to continue to work with Indians when she got her degree. She was very inquisitive, and knew more about Indian culture and history than anyone I had ever talked with. We immediately went to bed when we got dropped off at her trailer. I really wanted to sleep, but two new bodies lying in the same bed together got the better of both of us. Bev did the work; I just laid there (in pain).
Stiff with pain, I sat in Bev’s trailer the next day until 3 p.m. and
then tried hitching back to Babb, thirty miles down the highway. When I limped out to the street and headed in the right direction, four young male Indians picked me up. They were joyriding on a Sunday afternoon and, after hearing my story, volunteered to drive me back to Babb. They shared with me their beer and venison. On our way we passed a herd of deer grazing in a field, and one of the Indians made the driver stop while he went around to the trunk and pulled out a rifle. He sighted in on the big deer, the one that stood out from the others in the heard, but before he could shoot, the deer ran. “It’s meat,” he said. “That’s how we eat around here.”
One of the Indians asked me if I had seen Many Glacier yet. I said,
“No.” So when we came to the turn off, we turned left and drove the
five miles up to Many Glacier. The scenery was super; the road wove up the mountain until we came to a large open canyon area. At the end of the highway sat the large Many Glacier Hotel. On the way up we passed a large rockslide and above it were two caves. I immediately wanted to explore the place, but given my situation that was impossible. I was in so much pain; I even had a hard time enjoying the scenery.