She was born Willow, date unknown, named for the graceful willows that grew on the banks of the Platte River. By the time my step-grandmother painted a watercolor portrait of her in 1937, Willow’s name had been changed by the tribespeople whose close-knit Wyoming community she never strayed from. Traditional Shoshones and people from other indigenous cultures can receive new names or change their names at different stages of their lives.
Fred and Monica Ellis met Bear Pain, now in her 70s, in a Grange Hall in Casper where descendants of the proud Shoshone tribe gathered. Monica was a fine painter, mentioned in Who’s Who In The West (12th edition 1970-71) for her charming portraiture and homestead landscapes.
Willow was a solitary girl, often going off alone, aloof from other children in the tribe. So much so that she worried her parents, Man-Who-Goes-Ahead and Black Fox, who tried to interest their daughter in tribal activities.
Willow was not in the wilderness when she was attacked, as was Hugh Glass—played by Leonardo Decaprio in The Revenant. She was close to the tribal encampment on Squaw Creek, a tributary of the Platte.
When a group of girls went out with baskets and up into a nearby canyon to pick chokeberries, Willow soon drifted from her companions. Rounding a turn in a game trail, she saw a black bear coming towards her. They startled each other. The bear reared up on its hind legs. Willow knew that if she turned and ran it was a bear’s nature to give chase, and she wouldn’t win that race. Instead, she threw her basket at the bear’s face with all her strength, hoping to show aggression that might make the animal retreat. The opposite occurred.
The bear charged forward and swung a huge paw that clawed down Willow’s face cheek to chin, and knocked her face down on the ground. Fighting unconsciousness, she became aware of a bear paw at the small of her back, holding her fast. The bear took her shoulder in his teeth—the pain was agonizing—and dragged her off the trail, dug a shallow impression in the dirt, and covered her with branches and pine needles. After a span of minutes, Willow sensed that she was alone.
She got to her feet, barely able to lift her left arm, her face burning with gashes and bleeding. She knew she had to move. Stumbling back to Squaw Creek, she drank the clear water.
All the girls who’d gone berry-picking with her were already home and came running out to greet her when she returned to camp. Black Fox came out as well, alarmed by Willow’s injuries, but ready to muster her healing skills. Over several anxious hours, the wounds on her daughter’s face benefitted from a natural poultice, but the punctures from the bear’s teeth became infected. Medicinal herbs and roots didn’t keep the infection from spreading. Finally, as a last resort, Black Fox cauterized the wounds with the glowing end of a burning pine stick. Throughout the ordeal, although Willow’s body stiffened and sweat ran down her face, she didn’t flinch and no sound came from her lips.
That night, when the tribeswomen talked around the fire, all agreed that Willow’s new name would be Bear Pain.
The woman once called Willow lived a long life. She never married, and there’s no record that she bore children. The left side of her face was horribly scarred for life.
For her portrait, Monica chose Bear Pain’s right side for the sitting.