These are prayer cloths: an offering to the spirit of Iron Teeth, a Cheyenne woman whose spirit is believed to reside in this spring, watching over the people and the water.

"They pray to the water spirits, good spirits to recognize their needs," says Douglas Spotted Eagle, known by the tribe as the Keeper of the Bundle – a role he says is similar to that of a Catholic priest. "Native Americans don't have a certain church, you know, it's anywhere. We can pray anywhere."

This spring is a place where the Cheyenne give thanks for water. And though the tribe is sovereign over its reservation of approximately 700 square miles in southeast Montana, the Cheyenne are learning they may not be sovereign over the water beneath their land.

"It's our life, water, it's our life," says Spotted Eagle.

In the past few years, coalbed methane development has expanded in the coal-rich West. An estimated 24 trillion cubic feet of recoverable methane lies beneath the Powder River Basin, east of the reservation. Though the tribe does not now permit development inside its reservation boundaries, some fear the effects on the reservation could be profound.

Extracting methane from coalbed seams can result in significant drawdown of groundwater – estimates in one federal Environmental Impact Statement range up to a drop of 20 feet. The tribe is currently part of numerous lawsuits to slow down development and create stricter environmental regulations.

---

"The real shell around our sovereignty is our culture and it's tied to the land. The most precious thing in all that circle is water. No water, no life."

---

A leader in coalbed methane development is Fidelity, a company located in Decker, a tiny Montana town just north of the Wyoming border near the Crow and Northern Cheyenne reservations. To remove the trapped methane, a producer such as Fidelity drills a well and pumps water from the coal seams, releasing the gas.

As the methane is removed, so are thousands of gallons a day of warm, salty groundwater, some of which is kept in holding ponds above ground. According to the Bureau of Land Management, the discharge water is also dumped into the Tongue River and used for mining and agricultural purposes, though its sodium content is so high that such use is not generally recommended.

As methane and water are taken out of an area underground, water from surrounding areas seeps in to fill the gap. This, the Cheyenne say, is their main concern: In spite of their decision not to develop, they could suffer the loss of groundwater from development off the reservation. They also worry because Fidelity is permitted to discharge extracted coalbed methane water into the Tongue River, which flows along the eastern border of the reservation.

The tribe shares water rights in the Tongue River, as well the aquifer under and around the reservation. One lawsuit the tribe has fought and won asked that coalbed methane discharge water be called a pollutant. But naming the water a pollutant does not prevent it from being discharged into the river – rather the state will monitor how much is put into the river. What impacts will that have on water quality, landowners, fishing and, indirectly, the economy.

The Northern Cheyenne Reservation stands in contrast to surrounding areas where the land has been mined for coal and other minerals. The Cheyenne have not mined the land, though their lands sit atop an estimated billions of dollars worth of coal. They've chosen not to develop, though the reservation is plagued by poverty.

"It is no secret that the Northern Cheyenne Reservation is among the poorest regions in the United States," reads a report by the tribe.

The tribe doesn't have adequate housing for members who live on the reservation. There is no system for disposing of trash, so litter is everywhere. Septic pools are overflowing. Only 30 percent of the people have jobs.

Yet, even with extreme poverty on the reservation, mining is not a part of the Cheyenne way of life.

"I guess you could say we're in touch with our Mother Earth," says Donna Spotted Eagle, a soft-spoken woman with glasses and dark hair, who is married to Douglas Spotted Eagle.

In the early 1990s, the Cheyenne considered coalbed methane development but felt that the removal of water wasn't worth the potential profit or jobs – and found through trial and error that the water removed wasn't good for Cheyenne agricultural uses, according to former Tribal Councilman Ernie Robinson. Developing coalbed methane could bring the tribe millions.

"Money isn't important," says Lavonda Brady, a Cheyenne who opposes coalbed methane development. "We don't want so much that we're so rich that we could buy the world. What's important is being able to get by, to stay alive and give life. Life is important."

And at the center of life, according to Cheyenne beliefs, is water.

"To me, water means life," explains Myrna Burgess, Lame Deer representative, to the Tribal Council, as she strokes her tiny dog. "Because it's life for everything. My plants, pets, my Chihuahuas."

Despite deep poverty, many tribal members don't want methane wells on or near the reservation.

Mining around the reservation for coal or coal byproducts is not new to the Cheyenne, Robinson says. He has come in from a day of farming and is covered head to toe in dust. His long hair falls in a braid down his back. He's sitting at his dining table, having stopped eating to talk about coalbed methane. Once he starts, he doesn't stop – not to take a bite, or even a sip of water.

He remembers when strip mining started in Colstrip, a town 20 miles north of the reservation.

"We learned some real lessons there, with the EIS (environmental impact statement) and what we could do," Robinson says.

In the 1980s, Robinson says, the tribe sued to be allowed into the EIS process, which included several steps over long periods, including a public comment period that he says the tribe never had the chance to join.

"The tribe was always a little bit on the outside looking in," Robinson says.

When the tribe did get involved, the people asked for and received preference for jobs at the Colstrip mine. But the reality, according to several Cheyenne, has not been preferential in most ways. Robinson says friends were called "blanket-ass" and "chief" when they worked at the mine.

"It was always hard working at the mine," he says. "Union people always resented that we could get preference for jobs."

The Colstrip power generating plant, which processed the coal, also raised important sovereignty questions regarding clean air. In 1977 the tribe designated its reservation as Class 1, the most pristine status allowed under the Clean Air Act and the same status given to Yellowstone National Park.

That designation was upheld in court, meaning that no significant erosion of the air quality is allowed. Monitoring stations around the reservation watch for pollution from developments off the reservation.

But such control over water quality isn't as clear-cut. The reality is that the Cheyenne do not entirely control the aquifer under the ground.

Robinson is concerned that the state of Montana makes energy development in the state a high priority, with less interest in ensuring environmental quality.

"Montana needs the money," Robinson says. "At this point the political bodies are all pro-development."

Another discomforting issue for some members of the tribe is a land swap engineered by the federal government to protect Yellowstone Park. Gold mining proposed just outside the park elicited protests from many conservationists over possible harm that would come to the park's geothermal features. So Congress and Montana Gov. Judy Martz agreed to a mineral rights land swap in a deal that could have consequences on the reservation.

Montana now holds the Otter Creek Tracts mineral rights as part of a settlement that scuttled the New World/Crown Butte gold mining proposal. Otter Creek forms the eastern boundary of the reservation. Coal in the tracts is said to be worth up to $600 million in taxes and royalties for the state.

What will the tribe see as part of the deal? Tribal President Geri Small made an agreement with the Montana State Board of Land Commissioners that calls for "Programs for Recruitment of Indians and Other Local Residents" for jobs on the Otter Creek tracts. The tribe also wants assurances that cultural sites near the tracts will be preserved.

Maggie Rising Sun, a member of a women's group known as the Grassroots Advocates, says she is frustrated by the agreement.

"They took it from Yellowstone and decided to put it at Otter Creek," Rising Sun says. "It was affecting the wildlife. And we're humans."

The Grassroots Advocates don't believe the agreement and its provision for Indian recruitment will improve unemployment on the reservation.

"They make it so hard for the Cheyennes," says Rising Sun. "They bring in big dollar signs. And we know what those dollar signs are. Nobody gets services. They've never helped the general public."

The soft-spoken Donna Spotted Eagle, another Grassroots Advocate, says she doesn't believe developers will follow through with the agreement.

"They can go to agreement and train people, but will they hire them?" Spotted Eagle asks. "When it actually comes down to it, they don't really live up to their end of the agreement."

In March of this year, the U.S. Senate passed a bill called the Montana Mineral Exchange Act regarding these tracts. The bill calls for developers to provide the Northern Cheyenne tribe with revenue from energy resources from land bordering the reservation.

According to David Briesch of the BLM, the Otter Creek tracts may be used for either coalbed methane or strip mining, both of which could result in loss of groundwater.

Robinson remembers a time when "the world stopped at the reservation line." That was before the mining in Colstrip, back when the Cheyenne were an impoverished tribe that was in the middle of rural southeastern Montana.

Now, Robinson says, the tribe hasn't reaped much benefit from the mining in Colstrip; on the contrary, he thinks the tribe has suffered the bad effects of development without gaining the employment or economic boosts. They're still an impoverished tribe, but now in a less-rural Montana.

"It's made a real distinction between the haves and have-nots," Robinson says.

"One of the things that did come across the line were the drugs, the social problems that all that development brought. All that's done is embittered the people."

So why not develop? Advocates of coalbed methane say it is a good source of energy that results in little surface impact – especially when compared to strip mining.

"The gas itself is what we call clean, in that it's almost pure natural gas," says Briesch of the BLM. "The gas itself doesn't have other constituents mixed in it that have to be separated out. It's an inexpensive gas to locate and get to market."

But the real cost, according to the tribe, can't be measured in dollars.

"Without water, there's not a lot can happen in this country," Robinson says.

Water can't be compromised

It's pitch-black inside Robinson's sweat lodge. His family gathers every Sunday to sweat, often inviting guests to join. They pray for the well-being of their friends, their tribe, their state, their nation and their world.

The heat intensifies with the sound of sizzling water as it bounces off the red-hot rocks in the center. Steam fills the lodge and sweat soaks everyone. The sound of one woman's voice is piercing as four other family members sing in Cheyenne.

The sweat involves four rounds of prayer and song. Between each round, Robinson passes a cup of water. This cup can be used to rinse off one's face or body, or it can be passed along to the next person in the sweat. But if one person uses some of the water, it should be emptied, passed back to Robinson, and refilled before it moves along. The water should not be compromised.

The sweat is one Cheyenne ceremony that is entirely reliant upon water. A sweat feels much like a steam room. The steam allows the leader to intensify the heat by adding water throughout each round of prayer. It gets hotter as the voices get louder. Without water, the temperature would slowly decline as the heat from the rocks fades.

Spotted Eagle, known as the Keeper of the Medicine Bundle, says he is worried as he watches the youngest generation on the reservation learn as much from television as from their parents.

He says they are learning the materialism of MTV culture.

"We're trying to preserve our culture, traditional ways, and it's hard because they run with the mainstream," he says. "Keeping up with the Joneses."

Spotted Eagle's role as the keeper means that he protects a sacred bundle that belongs to the tribe. The bundle is used annually as part of the Sun Dance ceremony. Tribal members come to him with their concerns and he prays for them. He sees the ways of the off-reservation world seeping into – in fact, maybe saturating – his culture, and listens to the sorrow that brings his tribe.

While some of the concerns he listens to involve day-to-day needs, he feels like the biggest concern for his tribe is economic change as development gets closer and closer.

"I think it'll bring jobs but it'll be like culture shock to the people here," Spotted Eagle says. "Probably do a lot of damage to our way of life. It'd be kind of devastating, you know, for the tribe. People earning that much wages would really impact them."

But the tribe suffers from its poverty. They don't have adequate housing, for example, and money could help with that. The Cheyenne have a nomadic history of living off the land, moving from place to place depending on where the water was.

"Our livelihood is based on simple things," says Brady. "We cherish what we have – our air, our water, our land."

But European settlement changed the tribal way of life. As the tribe struggles to remember its past, those concerned with maintaining the culture have a hard fight against the backdrop of capitalistic America.

"It scares some of us, our ability to hold the world back for the long term," the dusty farmer Robinson says. "In the end, it's just the last generation that realizes that all the gold in the world isn't going to keep our culture together."

Robinson sees the disintegration of his culture as a threat to Northern Cheyenne sovereignty. The loss of groundwater furthers that threat.

"The real shell around our sovereignty is our culture," Robinson says, "and it's tied to the land. The most precious thing in all that circle is water. No water, no life."

Robinson says he is not surprised by the encroaching development. He is disappointed, yes, but not surprised. His eyes are fierce and sorrowful. His family rarely drinks the well water from the Tongue River, choosing bottled water instead. He believes in his culture and the Cheyenne right to sovereignty, but does not trust the government that granted that sovereignty.

"This Manifest Destiny has never really ended," Robinson says with a sigh. "Whenever there was resources on Indian land they always found a way. They took the Black Hills. They took most of the West."

Dependent on the Tongue

In the village of Birney, which once thrived on the river, using the water for drinking, fishing and washing, people are afraid. The village is a scattering of run-down homes. Stray dogs wander the dirt roads. The river is nearly silent, drifting along the east edge of the village. Though the river has coalbed methane discharge water dumped into it, the village is still dependent on it.

"We still depend on the bedwater from the Tongue," says Tribal Council member Florence Running Wolf, standing on her porch in Birney. "That's what the whole village uses."

Running Wolf's one-eyed dog eats rice from a bowl on the porch as Running Wolf stands in her pale-blue terrycloth dress. She speaks softly, but with conviction. She is concerned that her constituents don't know enough about coalbed methane development and don't have any way to stop it.

"It's devastating knowing that it's going to happen," she says. "It's like we just have no choice. Maybe the people will start waking up, start screaming around."

But she's not sure doing so will help. The sense of being forced is an often-repeated theme among the Cheyenne.

"We don't really have a voice," says Brady. "Money is far more important than people's lives. When the United States government sees you as something that gets in the way of progress, what kind of respect do you think we have for the government? There are a few of us that would fight to keep what we have. It's so hard for them to respect the way we live."

Some Cheyenne are tired of feeling helpless. They are angry with the U.S. government, the Montana government and the Tribal Council because they don't feel their concerns are being heard.

"It's going to destroy all our water," says Brady. "If the majority of the people are against methane, then where can we go? What can we do? It's like a death sentence to us."

And Running Wolf explains that she is afraid to disagree with the U.S. government.

"If they're going to siphon any energies we have, I don't think we can fight that against the government," she says.

The Cheyenne have been fighting mining for decades now. In the 1960s, the Bureau of Indian Affairs approved mineral leases on the reservation. According to High Country News, tribal members feel the BIA did not uphold its obligation to help the tribe get a fair deal from the leases – the tribe would have gotten roughly 17 cents per ton from the leases. They sued the Bureau of Land Management to stop the mining.

That history is not easily forgotten. Distrust of the government and outside developers is long-standing among the Northern Cheyenne.

"My grandmother told me we were going to get money when the frogs get teeth," says Burgess, still holding her Chihuahua. "I've been looking all these years. I just found out they don't grow teeth."