Little Flower

by Jeanie P Johnson

  Thus the fulfillment of the vision began to unfold. There were plenty of warriors, and there was no need for Sitting Bull to use his maimed arms that day. Nor was his advice needed in matters of tactics. Crazy Horse and other war chiefs would make his vision come true. When One Bull set the quirt to his horse, causing it to dash into the stream to follow the retreating soldiers, Sitting Bull called him back. It was time, he told his nephew, to make provision against the likelihood of more bluecoats returning to attack the women and children.

  They rode north, downstream through the encampment, until they came upon a scene of wild confusion. Boys were rounding up horses from the pack herd. Barking dogs and excited children were everywhere underfoot. Hundreds of women milled about, uncertain whether to stay or flee. Confusion became pandemonium when a line of soldiers on gray cavalry mounts… Custer’s troopers… appeared along the crest of the low hills across the river.

  The sound of guns blasting filled the air as Sioux began to appear on both flanks of the cavalry. Instead of charging, the troopers dismounted, which confused Sitting Bull. Maybe the men wanted to hide behind their horses, he thought with amusement. Sitting Bull looked on from a distance as a great mass of Sioux, returning from forcing the diversion troop across the river, gathered to overwhelm Custer. Custer hadn’t expected that. He thought the diversion troop would draw most of the warriors away, but Sitting Bull and his experienced fighters were too smart for that tactic. The deadly drama was hidden in a massive cloud of dust. It was the mist, Sitting Bull had seen in his vision, and he didn’t need to see the battle to know of the outcome.

  Gray Wolf, led by Crazy Horse, along with a thousand other warriors, rode down on the unsuspecting troop, which seemed to be in confusion, as they dismounted their horses. The volleys of gunfire zipped in all directions, as arrows whizzed in return. War whoops and the guttural voices of soldiers trying to rally each other, mixed in with the mayhem. He could see the blond, white leader of the group brandishing his sword in one hand while holding his rifle over his head calling out orders that were not being listened to. Men were falling, right and left either in hand to hand combat or from the rifle fire and arrows. The stinging smell of gunpowder and metallic stench of blood mingled in a stew of horror.

  It didn’t last long, even though everything seemed to be moving in slow-motion for Gray Wolf, as he fought off attackers, with arrows and his club. He didn’t have time to think about anything other than keeping the enemy at bay and killing as many as he could in the process.

  After the dust settled, there was not one white man standing. The Sioux were gathering up their wounded and dead, putting them on travois to bring back to camp or send them to the other-side-camp. He noticed Talking Dog among the wounded and assisted in lifting him up on the travois.

  Talking Dog grabbed Gray Wolf’s wrist as he started to turn away. “My brother,” he mumbled in a weak voice. “I wish to ask your forgiveness for what I did to your woman. I was jealous. No matter what I did she never paid attention to me. Even Merry Morning only had eyes for you. I am sorry, Gray Wolf. I should never have touched her. Please forgive me.”

  Gray Wolf looked down on his broken brother and shrugged. “You are forgiven,” he muttered.

  “Thank you.” The sound was almost so quiet Gray Wolf wasn’t sure he heard it. Then Talking Dog’s hand slipped from its grasp, and Gray Wolf was staring into the glassy stare of one who had passed over to the other-side-camp.

  White Bull, another nephew of Sitting Bull, claimed he was the one who was the slayer of Custer. White Bull was a formidable fighting man. “A tall soldier with yellow hair and moustache saw me,” White Bull claimed. “When I rushed him, he threw his rifle at me without shooting. I lashed him across the face with my quirt, striking the coup. He hit me with his fists on the jaw and shoulders, then grabbed my braids with both hands and tried to bite my nose off. He drew his pistol. I wrenched it out of his hand and struck him with it three or four times on the head, knocking him over. Then I shot him in the head and fired at his heart with his own gun.”

  There were others, though, who also claimed to have killed Custer, so no one was really sure who had killed the foolish leader of the white army.

  Custer’s death was only one satisfaction of the many Sioux, Cheyenne, and Arapaho. In the space of an hour, the tribes had virtually destroyed the core of the 7th Cavalry. Custer’s contingent of two-hundred and fifteen men was completely wiped out. Indian losses were not recorded, but whatever the total, Sitting Bull and the others thought it was well worth it. It was their biggest victory over the white soldiers.

  Even though Sitting Bull felt his sacrificing of Wakan Tanka with the Scarlet Blanket had brought about this victory, he still had reasons for new concern before the day was out. He had told his people that Custer’s troopers were gifts from their God to be slain, but he had warned against looting. The warning went unheeded. By nightfall, the Sioux camp was laden with booty of cavalry saddles, uniforms, pistols, carbines and about 10,000 rounds of cartridges.

  The battle had ended and neither Sitting Bull nor his people would ever witness a day like it again. The battlefield was strewn with naked white soldiers, mutilated beyond recognition. It was a triumph, but it was also the beginning of the preordained end.

  Sitting Bull witnessed the proof that the looting of Custer’s men would bring grief to the Sioux. The great assembly had split up in order to hunt buffalo more efficiently. While they were away General Crook, with several other tribes friendly to the whites, destroyed Sitting Bull’s village, near the Grand River northeast of the Black Hills. By the time Sitting Bull arrived at the campsite with relief force, it was too late. There were many corpses…young men, old men and women, children, babies… and the soldiers had also scalped some of the dead Indians. In the process they recovered Custer’s property.

  Sitting Bull saw the horror and shame upon the faces of those who had escaped the carnage. Some gave up, but Sitting Bull did not and could not. Surrendering was not his way. When he discovered that the army was still on Indian land, he sent a message to their leader. I want to know what you are doing on this road. You scare all the buffalo away. I want to hunt in this place. I want you to turn back from here. If you don’t, I will fight you again.”

  The superior officer decided to meet with Sitting Bull for a talk, hoping that he could persuade him to go peaceably to the reservation agency. The meeting began in a civil enough manner, but soon degenerated into mutual angry suspicion. “No Indian that ever lived loved the white man,” Sitting Bull declared, “and no white man that ever lived loved the Indian.”

  When Gray Wolf heard of the chief’s statement, he felt a pain in his heart. He loved Little Flower, even if she was a white person. Now he was almost frightened to declare his love for her or become her husband. His whole tribe may turn against him.

  The meeting broke up and there was an exchange of shots. The soldiers, who had been the first to fire, drove the Sioux from the meeting and engaged them in a running battle that lasted for two days. The Indians counterattacked vigorously, setting fire to the grass and on one occasion, forcing their pursuers into a trap-like hollow. Only the soldiers had artillery, which was employed with skill to keep Sitting Bull’s forces from pressing too closely. The forty-two mile chase ended in a Sioux rout. In their flight, the Indians abandoned camp equipment, tons of meat, and broken-down ponies.

  After the battle, many of the other Sioux tribes tried to surrender with two-thousand of their people. Only the Army was not able to feed so large a number. Instead they accepted five chiefs as hostages against the guarantee that the Sioux bands would turn themselves in at the Cheyenne River Agency. Later, the followers of the five chiefs gave themselves up, but the rest of the Sioux joined Crazy Horse.

  Those, who gave themselves up, signed documents relinquishing all claims to the Black Hills and the Powder River country, which was about a third of the lands that had been guaranteed to the Indians. They had little choice. T
he Great Father of the whites had ordered the suspension of rations and other substances from the reservation until the Indians bowed to the white’s demands. Once again, the word of the white man had been broken. They were now called by the Indians, Indian givers, which meant, one who gives to the Indian, and then takes it back again.

  Even Crazy Horse decided that the war was hopeless. He surrendered, although he did so with characteristic panache. He, and about fifteen-hundred followers, rode into the reservation decked out in war paint and feathers, carrying their shields and weapons in plain view and singing their war songs. It was a hollow gesture. The soldiers, fearing Crazy Horse was planning to make trouble, ordered him to be locked up in the guardhouse. When the soldiers tried to seize him, the war chief resisted. He was stabbed in the abdomen with a bayonet and died a few hours later.

  Meanwhile, Sitting Bull had turned northward toward his last refuge. He took his people to Canada, the land ruled by the ‘Great Mother’…Queen Victoria.

  Gray Wolf and his tribe knew the end would soon be upon them. They would have to bow to the will of the white man, or find refuge in Canada as well. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and Gray Wolf had to make up his mind. Either he could join his family and friends on the reservation, never to have the same freedom he had enjoyed in his youth, or go back to Little Flower and agree to become part of the white man’s world.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Daisy’s days were filled with activities her mother devised for her, such as attending tea parties where the group played cards, or going to dances she was invited to, accompanied by either Madison or Loran. Her parents also hosted special dances and events at their own residents to entertain Daisy. Madison taught her to play chess and often took her to tour the hotel, showing her more about the business. Davy would join her on her rides along the surf where Lucky came bounding after them. Lucky was practically full-grown now and was turning into a handsome wolf. Many people turned their heads when they saw Daisy out with Lucky, not believing they were seeing an actual wolf. But what did they expect for a young woman raised by the Indians?

  Among those activities was shopping, where Daisy’s mother took her to the shops, even though she insisted she did not need more things to add to her abundant supply of belongs she already had. She thought of the two Indian dresses she used to own, only one of those dresses had been disposed of by her father, and the other was back at the Sioux village. The tribe had to move several times to follow the buffalo or find a better place to camp over the winter, so the less objects that needed to be packed on the travois, the better.

  Now her room was filled with many belongings she thought were not necessary, even if they were beautiful and exciting to look at or wear. Only it seemed to please her mother to be constantly buying Daisy presents, so she had to submit to the shopping adventures. However, she always felt self-conscious when trying on dresses, for fear her mother would notice the slow change in her figure and suspect something.

  She made a point of wearing extra petty coats to hide her condition, only she didn’t know how long she could get away with it before it became obvious that she was carrying a child. Finally, she decided that there was only one thing she could do. She would have to convince her parents to let her go and live at the farmhouse, until Gray Wolf returned… if Gray Wolf returned.

  There had been news of a battle between the Sioux, along with other tribes, which had wiped out General Custer’s troop. All of Custer’s men, including Custer had been killed, and many Indians had died in the battle as well. Those who had survived were being rounded up and put on reservations. Daisy worried that Gray Wolf was either among the dead or put on a reservation. She tried to hold out hope, but she wasn’t sure if God was listening to her prayers. Should she pray to the Indian God, or the white God, she wondered? All she knew was that she could not remain at the house to be stared at by the neighbors and friends if she was discovered in her shame.

  “I have been raised as an Indian, of course, I can take care of myself,” she argued her case. “Mazy can come with me, along with Gordon who can help chop wood and care for my horse. I just feel so cooped up here in town. I am used to having space around me. Even though the house is large, whenever I go out, there are always prying eyes. You have introduced me to society here, but they still talk behind their hands about me when I am in attendance. I need some fresh air and solitude!”

  “Why can’t you just go and spend a few days at the farmhouse,” her mother sighed.

  “For the simple reason, I don’t like living here. At the farmhouse I can have Lucky inside with me instead of him having to remain in the stables. I miss not being able to be with him during the day. He would calm down and not be so excitable, if he saw me more often. If I have to stay in this house one more day, I will just get up on Starfire’s back and return to the Sioux village, taking Lucky with me, and get tied to Gray Wolf there!”

  “This seems a little extreme,” her father put in. “Besides they are forcing the Indians onto the reservation. I don’t think there is a village to return to.”

  Daisy gave a sob, realizing he may be right, but she still had to find a place to hide from her family and their friends. “I just need to get away and have my own space. I am tired of attending events and dances and expected to be gawked at by those in attendance. They all want to know what it was like living in an Indian village, and I am getting tired of telling the story. Besides, it is none of their business!

  “Madison or Loran can come by to check on me from time to time to keep you informed, and Davy can visit if he wants to see me or play with Lucky. There is a piano there, so I can continue practicing and I will have interesting landscape to paint in watercolors. I am sure Mazy and Gordon will take good care of me, and one of them could come to get help if it was necessary or something unexpected happened.

  “I could plant a garden for extra food and there are fruit trees planted there already. Gordon could help me, only it is fall right now, so it would have to wait until spring. However, the fruit is ready to harvest and put up in jars. You can give me a book that shows how to do it.” Daisy looked hopefully at her parents.

  “This is totally out of the ordinary,” Blake grumbled. “However, the farmhouse has been sitting empty for a rather long time, and having someone in residence, keeping the house in repair and warm during the damp months would be good for the place. I had been thinking of renting the place to some farmer, but if Daisy wishes to live there, I could deed it to her and it can be part of her inheritance. Lord knows Davy would not be up to farming on the place.” He seemed to be appealing to Rebeca as he spoke.

  “Only Daisy is still so young to be taking on such a task. Once she is married, she would have her husband to help her work the land,” Rebeca complained.

  Blake gave Daisy a long look. “I was hoping Daisy would end up marrying Madison so her husband would help me with the business. If not, it looks like Davy will have to take over. If that heathen ever comes back, I doubt he would fit in at the hotel.”

  “You know full well that Gray Wolf will not wish to work at the hotel, and I don’t plan to marry anyone else,” Daisy said in her stubborn belief that Gray Wolf had to come back to her. “He said he wanted to take me back to his village, once we are married, but if they have been forced to go to the reservations, he will have to stay here with me.

  “At least, this way, he would feel more comfortable here, helping me on the farm. It would be away from the prying eyes of the townspeople. He would feel more secure here, than if he came to stay with me at the house in town. He hated it here, and that was why he went back. This is the only chance I will have to convince him to stay. I don’t wish to go to a reservation to live. I am sure Davy will love to take over the hotel.”

  “She does have a point there,” Blake conceded.

  “I would hate it if you had to return to live with the Indians. I would never be able to see my grandchildren or visit you,” Rebeca mumbled.

  �
�So you see, it is the best choice,” Daisy emphasized as her closing argument, trying to ignore the remark about grandchildren.

  “Very well,” Blake nodded. “As much as I don’t like you living on your own like that, I will allow it. If Mazy and Gordon are there to help you, I will have to put my trust in the three of you. If Gray Wolf returns and is willing to remain on the farm, at least you will be near enough to visit, and Gray Wolf can have a livelihood by learning how to farm. Even though you will have plenty of money without having to farm the land, it will give Gray Wolf a feeling of self-worth.”

  Daisy began clapping her hands in excitement. “Oh, thank you, thank you,” she cheered as she threw her arms around her mother’s neck and then hugged her father too. “You won’t regret letting me do this,” she smiled. Only the smile faded as she remembered the reason she was asking to live on the farm and once her parents discovered it, they might disown her altogether! If Gray Wolf didn’t come back, she didn’t know what she would do.

  Blake said she could take the wagon they had traveled in from the Indian village, so she could load all of her personal belongings on it. He would also supply her with anything extra she would need, such as food, to add to what was in the basement, cooking utensils, and household goods, in order to set up her household once she arrived.

  Daisy was filled with excitement at the prospect of having the farmhouse to herself and living as she pleased, even if Mazy and Gorgon remained there with her. At least she would have company, but eventually, they would discover her secret, especially Mazy, who would be closer to her than Gordon. When that happened, she would just have to confess. However, she tried to push those worries away. Her baby wouldn’t be due for a few months yet, and hopefully, Gray Wolf would return before then.