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The place-name in all its readings, printed whole — for this ground the readings belong to the river below it, and the upland itself has no Indigenous name in any source reached
The checklist of this build asks for the place-name in all its readings. For Mishawaka that meant the townsite's own name in three unreconciled readings. For this ground the question splits in two, and the halves have opposite answers. The upland itself — the prairie the settlers called Harris Prairie, after Edward Harris, the settler of 1830 who gave it his name, as the Story of Granger section of this build tells it — carries no Indigenous name in any source reached: not in the county histories, not in the treaty record, not in the survey literature, not in the staying band's published record. The name "Granger" is younger still and entirely a settler instrument — a post-office name of 1875 whose course the Story of Granger section owns. Neither name has a tribal reading, and this section invents none. The names the tribal record does give belong to the waters the upland drains to, and they come in readings that do not reconcile — printed whole here, as the discipline requires, with the strength of each stated.
The river is the St. Joseph of Lake Michigan. In the Myaamia telling it is Saakiiweesiipiwi, the coming-out river, from the emergence account the Miami Tribe of Oklahoma publishes — the one reading in this article that comes from a nation's own language authority, and the strongest. A second Miami-side form circulates in the secondary record: Notre Dame Magazine's answer, sourced to the historian Gregory Dowd and to the county library's local-history room, gives Sagwasibi, "coming-out river," as a name "possibly used by the Miami" — the same gloss under a different spelling, printed as the magazine prints it, possibility and all. For a Potawatomi name the record reached is thinner and stranger. The South Bend historians of 1899 gave the river a Potawatomi name, "the Sauwk Wauwk Sil Buck of the Pottawatomies"; Charles H. Bartlett, one of the same circle, softened it in 1904 to "Sau-wau-see-bee" and hung a legend on it — twin sisters of a chief drowned in the stream, and a river spirit demanding its yearly victims — in a book of tales written for the general reader. A modern retelling of the headwaters record flags exactly that provenance: Bartlett's book is a collection of tales, and the drowned-sisters story is his, not a tribal record. A third form stands apart from both: the same Notre Dame Magazine answer reports that the Potawatomi called the river Sheggwe — "SHAG-wah" — "happened spontaneously," from a legend of a man who materialised on the banks like a mushroom. Three Potawatomi-side readings, then — Sauwk Wauwk Sil Buck, Sau-wau-see-bee, Sheggwe — no two alike, none of them carried by a tribal language authority in any source reached, and the staying band's Department of Language and Culture publishes no name for the river in the record. The French name came first in European writing as the river of the Miamis, for the people La Salle met on it in 1679; the name St. Joseph stands in a French land grant by 1689, in the magazine's account. The honest close is the one the checklist wants: the river has a Miami name from the Miami themselves, a French name from the 1680s, and a Potawatomi name — if the nineteenth-century forms record one at all — that the surviving record does not let this section print as fact. The creek that rises on this ground and runs west to the river, the upland's one water of its own, carries no Indigenous name in any source reached either; its recorded names are farm names, and they belong to the land leg.
Sources: Myaamia Center, Miami Tribe of Oklahoma — Saakiiweesiipiwi, as carried in Before the City; Notre Dame Magazine, "Wondering Out Loud: Saint Joseph River" — Sheggwe and Sagwasibi with their glosses and their stated sourcing (Dowd; the St. Joseph County Public Library local-history room; the Northern Indiana Center for History); the South Bend historians of 1899 and Bartlett (1904), as collected and re-read in the headwaters record (Project Scroll, "Where the River Begins," November 2026) — Sauwk Wauwk Sil Buck, Sau-wau-see-bee, the drowned-sisters legend and its provenance as a tales-book story; Homespun (St. Joseph valley local history) — the same Sau-wau-see-bee legend in its local telling; the Story of Granger section and land legs of this build — Harris Prairie's naming for Edward Harris and Granger's post-office naming; the Pokagon Band's published record — no river name published in sources reached, the search stated.