The Crow woman hurried a short distance from the tree and squatted behind a thicket of willow bushes, then came directly back. As she sat down with her back to the tree, Makawee reached out and touched the young man’s arm. After thanking him, she made the same request on behalf of Rides Alone. When the guard balked, she reminded him she had kept her word and assured him the Crow warrior would do the same.
The youthful guard glanced back toward camp where everyone was asleep. After securing Makawee to the tree and retying her feet, he spoke in hushed tones. Makawee translated his instructions, which included a threat to torture the remaining prisoners if he ran away. Rides Alone returned after a few minutes and dutifully sat with his back to the tree. He offered no resistance to being bound.
When Makawee asked Graham to be temporarily released, the guard was defiant.
“Saa!” [No!] he said, emphatically shaking his head from side to side and walking back to his post.
Graham didn’t have to speak their language to understand the reply. Once again, he was being singled out for harsh treatment.
“I’m sorry, Graham,” she whispered from the other side of the tree.
“Not your fault,” he sighed, hiding his frustration and disappointment.
Graham slept fitfully through the night, his head slowly drooping to one side until he was awakened by a sudden jerk as he subconsciously tried to remain upright while being strapped to the tree. Several times he awoke with severe cramps in his thighs, which he attempted to lessen by alternately bending and straightening his knees.
As dawn approached, the increased pressure of a full bladder became overwhelming. He relaxed his sphincter muscle and urinated in his jeans, feeling the double pleasure of the warm liquid filling his crotch on a cold morning and the subsequent relief from voiding his strained bladder. The embarrassment of having pissed in his pants was irrelevant, considering his other aches and afflictions—cramped legs, chafed wrists and ankles, frozen feet, and an empty stomach.
The Piegan camp began to slowly stir. Several men stoked the fire with fresh tinder and placed water in a pot to boil for tea. Red Plume approached the prisoner tree holding strips of dried buffalo meat. He handed two strips each to the Crows, then stood in front of Graham. He paused, considering whether to offer the accused soldier any food. He dropped two strips of dried meat onto the white man’s lap and walked back to the fire. Graham instantly grabbed one of the sapid meat strips and voraciously ripped off a chunk, savoring the juices from the meat.
The sun climbed on the eastern horizon and gradually melted patches of frost that had formed on clusters of sedge growing by the river. Makawee and Rides Alone benefited from the sun’s warmth because they had been tied to the northeast and southeast sides of the tree. Graham swung his legs toward the sunny side of the tree hoping to thaw his numb toes encased in damp socks.
Red Plume appeared midmorning with the other warriors and ordered the prisoners untied. The Crows were given their moccasins, but Graham was not permitted to put on his hat or waterlogged hiking boots. The prisoners were ordered to stand. Graham struggled to rise. His feet tingled with neuropathy, and his cramped leg muscles were unable to support his weight. Rides Alone put Graham’s arm around his shoulder until the Pennsylvanian regained his ability to walk unsupported. With each step he felt blood starting to circulate to his lower extremities.
The trio was escorted through the camp past the area where the horses were tied. After walking a quarter mile, the Piegan entourage and their prisoners trudged down a slope and emerged in an open area devoid of trees or shrubs. Before them lay a vast collection of turquoise hot springs, fumaroles, and small, erratic geysers erupting from a white siliceous sinter basin. Steam from the hydrothermal features swirled in the light breeze and dissipated in the chilly morning sky. The pungent odor of sulfurous gases was pervasive. Several hundred yards in the distance, a small ridge dotted with clusters of lodgepole pines bordered the basin.
Rides Alone and Makawee had their hands tied behind their backs. Their arms were held by two Piegans. But Graham’s hands were not bound. Instead, Red Plume repeatedly shoved him forward until he stood at the edge of the geyser basin eighty feet away.
When Graham turned around to face his accuser, the Piegan held his fists against his chest and pulled them apart, signaling Graham to remove his coat. He unbuttoned the coat and placed it on the ground at his feet. His captor repeated the motion. When his prisoner hesitated, Red Plume pulled a knife from his belt, pointed it a few inches from Graham’s stomach, and flicked it upward. The message was clear. Graham pulled the long sleeve gray Henley over his head and dropped it to the ground on top of his coat, immediately shivering in the thirty-degree morning air.
Red Plume furrowed his brow and tilted his head when he saw the eagle–bear claw necklace. He stepped forward, using his knife to pull the pendants away from Graham’s bare chest and inspect them. Graham could feel the Piegan’s warm breath as he studied the BSA eagle, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. He released the necklace and held up his hand, ordering Graham to stay.
The Piegan pivoted and returned to the group, which had assembled in a line. He glared at Graham while holding an open hand to his side and barking an order. One of the warriors responded by handing him a rifle.
Graham recognized the Winchester Model 1866 rifle Rides Alone had used for hunting. The brass receiver reflected the morning sun as Red Plume tilted the lever-action rifle while inspecting the firearm. He chambered a round, shouldered the weapon, swung the barrel to his left, and pulled the trigger.
Crack!
The .44-caliber Henry rimfire round severed a small pine bough from a tree a hundred feet away.
Red Plume gave a satisfied nod. As he lowered the weapon, he spoke to Makawee, who translated for Graham.
“He is going to give instructions. I will interpret,” she said in a shaky voice.
As Red Plume spoke, Graham wrapped his arms around his chest and rubbed his triceps, trying to warm himself.
When Red Plume was finished speaking, he nodded to Makawee to translate. Tears streamed down her face as she spoke.
“Last winter soldiers killed almost all the people in Heavy Runner’s camp, including my family. They killed old men. They killed women. They killed children. A few warriors who tried to run away were chased down and slaughtered like buffalo. Your only chance to escape is through the hot-water area behind you.”
Makawee paused and briefly put her hand to her mouth before finishing the translation. “He will count to five, then shoot at you with the yellow spirit gun.”
Graham’s heart was beating rapidly, and his palms were sweating even though he was shivering. He slowly turned around and surveyed the barren sinter landscape dotted with hot springs, erratic geysers, and fumaroles.
He would have to flee in a zigzag pattern to dodge the bullets from the quick-firing Winchester. And he would have to run through the hottest thermal area in the park. Was he destined to suffer the same fate as Pvt. Foley?
The memory of that tragic day at Firehole Spring came flooding back. He could hear the screaming horse and the wails of anguish from the young cavalry soldier as he lay writhing in pain from third-degree burns.
He mentally plotted the course he would take for the first fifty yards. After that, it would be pure luck if he was able to skirt hundreds of boiling hazards. His chances of survival seemed bleak. His knees trembled, and his mind raced as he turned to face his accuser.
Rides Alone had heard Makawee translate the instructions and understood the impossible lethal option Graham had been given.
He regarded his baashchiile friend and calmly spoke to him from a distance, “You are Eagle Bear.”
Graham stared into the eyes of Rides Alone. Suddenly it occurred to him the message the Crow warrior was sending. He was Eagle Bear. Eagles don’t fly away in fear. Eagles are symbols of courage. He had a choice—either flee and hope to avoid an uncertain and painful death or stay and f
ace a certain and quick death.
The courageous choice was to stand his ground.
Red Plume mounted his horse. He placed the butt of the Winchester on his thigh and pointed the barrel skyward. It was clear he was prepared to chase the fleeing baashchiile on horseback and shoot him if his first shots were off target. Graham realized Red Plume was seeking to avenge his brothers’ deaths in the same way they had been massacred on the Marias.
“A few warriors who tried to run away were chased down and slaughtered like buffalo.”
“Ipikssi!” [Run!] he shouted, lowering the rifle barrel in the direction of the geyser basin.
The falsely accused white man took a deep breath, placed his feet shoulder-width apart, and crossed his arms on his chest.
“Tell him I am innocent. I refuse to run,” he pronounced to Makawee while fixing a steely gaze at Red Plume.
The Crow woman wiped away her tears. She haltingly translated his words.
Red Plume’s eyes narrowed. He chambered a round, shouldered the rifle, and fired a round over Graham’s head. He repeated his command louder this time.
“Ipikssi!”
Graham closed his eyes and extended both arms to the side, palms forward. The eagle pendant on his chest glinted in the sun’s rays. He tilted his head back and looked at the deep-blue sky. While waiting for the crack of the rifle that would send a bullet through his heart, he recited the Lord’s Prayer:
Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come,
thy will be done
on earth . . .
Suddenly a voice pierced the silence.
“Issikóót!” [Stop!]
Everyone looked in the direction of the sound. A group of six warriors rode from a grove of trees. They were led by a tall warrior with several eagle feathers in his braided hair.
Graham lowered his head and exhaled when he saw the leader. It was Wolf Tail. The Pennsylvanian had serendipitously received a temporary reprieve from being executed.
Wolf Tail spoke at length with Red Plume, who explained the circumstances surrounding the three prisoners. The warrior with the red owl feather was clearly irritated at being interrupted in bringing justice to his people by shooting the baashchiile in the back.
Makawee started to speak in Siksika, but Wolf Tail stopped her.
“I speak and understand English. I learned it from many years at trading posts. Is it true you were collecting rocks at the shiny black mountain?”
“Yes. That is where we were captured.”
“And who is the white man?”
Makawee patiently explained how they were traveling together and had served as guides for a group exploring the area. She quickly added Graham was falsely accused of being a soldier.
Wolf Tail nodded, then walked over to the shirtless, shivering white man. He briefly inspected the eagle–bear claw necklace before telling Graham to put on his clothes and follow him. The baashchiile gladly donned his shirt and coat, grateful for their warmth.
Wolf Tail walked back and explained to the Piegans his plan for the prisoners. Red Plume’s countenance reflected anger and disappointment as he heard the Piegan leader’s words, but he did not argue. Makawee listened intently, preparing to translate. Her language skills were not needed, as Wolf Tail repeated his words in English.
“Red Plume and the others violated the pact among the tribes. We agreed not to fight one another at the shiny black mountain. It is considered neutral ground. They were wrong to capture you while gathering rocks.”
“Thank you,” Makawee responded.
“This white man is not a soldier. His clothes are not part of a soldier’s uniform.”
“This is true,” Makawee replied appreciatively.
“Our Piegan band is not seeking a fight with the soldiers. If we kill this man, they will surely hunt and kill our families out of revenge. That is not a wise decision.”
“Will you let us go?” she asked hopefully.
“Our tribes are enemies. The white man is also our enemy. You will be set free after we take something of value from each of you,” he declared.
Makawee looked nervously at Graham and Rides Alone.
“We will take your ponokáómitaa [horse],” he informed Makawee.
Her eyes widened. She started to object, but quickly realized she was in no position to negotiate.
Wolf Tail told a young warrior to fetch the horse that belonged to the Crow woman. A few minutes later, he appeared leading Zonta. The Piegan leader admiringly ran his hand along the stallion’s forelegs before giving an approving nod.
Wolf Tail advanced toward Red Plume, who was still holding the loaded Winchester. He reached up and touched the rifle on the brass breach, then slid his fingers across the lever.
“Capturing our enemy’s gun is a great honor,” he stated, looking at Rides Alone.
Wolf Tail informed Red Plume he could keep the spirit gun. While the news assuaged the Piegan warrior’s disappointment, Rides Alone showed no emotion over losing his firearm.
“What is your name?” Wolf Tail asked, turning to Graham.
The Pennsylvanian started to say his English name, then decided to use the name Rides Alone had given him.
“I am Eagle Bear.”
“How did you earn this name?”
Before he could answer, Makawee interjected.
“He has eagle and bear spirits. He also has the ability to capture a piece of the sun,” she said excitedly.
Graham quickly caught on to Makawee’s assertion.
“Yes. I have a tool that can bring light to darkness without fire.”
“Show me,” Wolf Tail demanded.
“I carry it in a special holder.”
He described the L.L. Bean pack to Wolf Tail, who instructed a warrior to retrieve it. The young Piegan went back to the prisoner tree and picked up the pack. He returned and handed it to Graham, who unzipped the top. The strange closure fascinated Wolf Tail, who leaned in to get a better look at the zipper.
Graham removed the chrome Eveready flashlight with a flourish, holding it high over his head with the lens pointing to the sky. The shiny chrome housing gleamed as he deliberately rotated it in the sun. Anyone who had never seen a flashlight would have concluded some of the sun’s rays were being funneled into the small cylinder. Wolf Tail and the other spectators watched in amazement.
The amateur magician completed his sleight of hand. He stepped within a few feet of Wolf Tail, aimed the Eveready at the bridge of the Piegan leader’s nose, and slid the red plastic switch forward. Two D-cell batteries energized the bulb, and a beam of light instantly flashed into Wolf Tail’s eyes. He instinctively threw up his arm to shield his face.
“Yahhh!” Wolf Tail yelled as he stumbled backward.
Red Plume shouldered the Winchester and prepared to shoot the white man with the strange, shiny weapon in his hand.
Graham quickly switched off the flashlight and held both hands high in the air, making it clear he was not posing a threat. Then he slowly lowered his arms and flipped the flashlight. With the lens pointed at Graham’s chest, he offered the light to Wolf Tail.
The Piegan leader regained his composure. He guardedly approached Graham before snatching the Eveready. Graham pointed to the red switch and motioned for him to slide it forward. Wolf Tail moved the switch and cautiously raised the lens toward his face. He flinched when the light flashed in his eyes but studied the luminous bulb with curiosity.
“Slide the red button one way to turn on the sun’s rays. Slide it the other way to put them back in the tube,” Graham explained.
Wolf Tail followed these instructions and marveled at the power of commanding sunlight to appear and disappear.
“It is useful at night. When the sun goes down, you can carry a piece of it with you.”
“Aa [Yes]. This is a special tool. The spirits have given you great powers,” he declared.
After sliding the switch for
ward and back several times, he motioned toward the Crow prisoners.
“Untie them,” he ordered.
A few minutes later, the Piegan band mounted and rode north with their spoils: a lever-action rifle, a horse, and a shiny tube that captured the sun’s rays.
Makawee proposed staying in the geyser basin for the night. That would allow Graham to recover before they made the trip to the canyon in the morning. The trio made its way back to the Piegans’ abandoned campsite. Makawee and Rides Alone gathered wood and stoked the fire while Graham limped to the tree where he had been tied and recovered his hat and boots.
When he returned, the flames were leaping skyward. He set his boots by the fire, then shed his damp socks and jeans. Makawee brought a blanket, which he wrapped around his waist before removing his urine-soaked underwear. He planned to wash his socks and underwear in the Gibbon River before draping the wet clothing over forked sticks to dry.
The three travel companions stood by the fire warming themselves in silence. Makawee had lost her faithful horse. Rides Alone’s Winchester had been taken. But their lives had been spared.
A chill ran down Graham’s spine, and he started to tremble. Perhaps he was shaking because he was naked from the waist down. More likely it was the sudden realization of what had just happened. He had come within a trigger pull of dying eighty years before he was born.
Chapter 29
August 29, 1871
Waxing gibbous moon: 1 night until the next full moon
Morning came quickly for Graham. The previous day’s events had sapped his energy, and he slept well past dawn. He was awakened by the wichity-wichity-wichity song from a pair of common yellowthroat birds nesting in a nearby willow bush. He sat up and cupped his hands around his eyes to shield them from dappled sunlight shining brightly through branches of scattered pines.
Burning Ground Page 44