The general’s question was translated. Getting to his feet and readjusting his blanket about his shoulders, the Sioux leader began to speak slowly, pausing now and then while the interpreters hurried to catch up.
“Before leaving Red Cloud Agency, I told the agent I wanted him to give our people their regular allowance of rations while we were gone on this scout. I am talking now for all our families left back to Red Cloud Agency. I want the beeves turned out the same as they ever were while we are away.
“I have three things to say and that’s all. When that delegation gets back from the Indian Territory, I want it to wait for me and not go to Washington until we can start together. I don’t want them to start before that time. As soon as we get through with this business out here, we can work together, and that’s the reason I want them to wait for me. Sometimes I may want to ask for something, and whenever I do, I want Three Stars to agree to it. When we travel together, we ought to work together as one.
“A great many of our men back at the agency have guns but no ammunition. I want to have a message sent to both those stores at the agency to have them sell ammunition for a couple of days, because the hostile Indians will come down there and raise trouble with our people while we are away. I want you to write this letter right away about my words, because if my young people don’t cry for food while I am away, I’ll like you all the better when I go back.
“The Pawnees have a great herd of horses here; we want half to drive along.”
“Is that all?” Crook replied, his eyes moving from Three Bears to the interpreter, then back to the Sioux.
“Yes,” answered the translator.
“All right. There’ll be a fair division made of the horses.”
Jutting his chin, acceptance brightening his face, Three Bears continued, “I want you to put in your letter we got one half of those horses back. And when you send us out on a scout, we want to work our own way.”
The general nodded. “That’s it, exactly.”
“If a man wants to live in this world, he has got to do right and keep his ears straight,” Three Bears continued. “Then he gets along without trouble. We are going to listen to you after this and do what you tell us. If we get any money for our country that you want us to sell back to you, we don’t want it taken away from us. I want the Great Father to hear me when I call for oxen, wagons, and sheep—and when they are given to me, I don’t want the agent to keep them for me in his corrals. I can keep them myself.”
“I have no problem with that,” Crook replied. “I’ll see that it is done.”
“It is good that we can work together, Three Stars,” the Sioux leader said as he motioned the other warriors to rise.
“Yes, it is good,” Crook replied. “Now, what say we go see about catching Crazy Horse?”
When the Indians had filed from the room, crossing the parade to follow the wide wagon road that would take them down the bluffs to the mouth of La Prele Creek, where they would cross on the ferry to the cavalry camp on the north bank, Crook watched them disappear in the swirls of ground snow.
“That son of a bitch was more savvy than savage, wasn’t he, fellas?”
“Certainly was,” Bourke agreed, coming up to stand at the window beside the general.
“Nothing wrong with keeping the welfare of his people always first,” Seamus declared as he stepped to the door.
Bourke added, “I get the feeling Three Bears is going to play his enlistment as a scout for all the political and economic ends he can get out of it.”
With his hand on the big iron hasp, Donegan asked, “You can’t blame him, can you, Johnny?”
“No, we can’t,” Crook answered emphatically. “I’ll see that he gets all he wants, just as long as he damn well sees that I get Crazy Horse.”
* Cheyenne term for Rosebud Creek.
† Mini Pusa, South Fork of the Cheyenne River.
‡ Red Cloud Agency.
* River steamboats.
† Little Bighorn River.
‡ Trumpet on the Land, Vol. 10, the Plainsmen Series.
** Bighorn Mountains.
Chapter 17
10–14 November 1876
General Miles Attacks and
Defeats Sitting Bull.
The Insolent Savage to be Punished After All.
THE INDIANS.
Sitting Bull Attacked and Defeated by General Miles
BISMARCK, October 31.—General Miles had a successful fight after an unsuccessful council with Sitting Bull, on the 22d, on Cedar Creek, killing and wounding a number of Indians, his own loss being two wounded. He chased the Indians about sixty miles, when they divided, one portion going toward the agencies, and Sitting Bull toward Fort Peck, General Miles following. General Hazen has gone to Peck with four companies of infantry and rations for General Miles. Sitting Bull crossed the river below Peck on the 24th, and had sent word to the agent that he was coming in, and would be friendly, but wanted ammunition.
“Major, this horse belongs to me,” Frank North addressed First Lieutenant William Philo Clark by his brevet rank as the civilian angrily wrenched the horsehair lead rope looped around the neck of a dark bay pony from the hands of the war chief leading the Sioux auxiliaries.
“It can’t be,” Clark replied indignantly. “Isn’t this one of the horses taken from Red Cloud’s band?”
Seamus Donegan nodded in agreement as he watched the cloud pass over the face of the war chief called Three Bears, then said to Clark, “In this case, you’re both right, Clark. That’s the horse Crook told Frank he could pick out of the ponies we confiscated out of Red Cloud’s herd. Some of the Sioux scouts claim it’s supposed to be just about the fastest thing on four legs.”
“Damn well it has been,” Frank growled in admiration as he fingered the horsehair rope nervously.
Just two days after the general’s conference with Three Bears and the Sioux headmen there at Fort Fetterman, one of the Pawnee scouts had come tearing into the battalion’s camp reporting that a dozen of the Sioux mercenaries had just come riding into the herd, dropped a rope around Frank’s horse, and ridden off with it in tow. Outmanned and undergunned, the lone Pawnee horse guard had hightailed it straight to Frank North with the news. North promptly dispatched one of his riders to track down Lieutenant Clark, who, along with John Bourke, served General Crook as aide-de-camp, and demand that the young officer bring the horse to North’s bivouac.
In less than an hour Clark showed up with Three Bears, the war chief pulling the lead rope wrapped around the neck of the pony in question.
Clark’s eyes narrowed as he looked from Donegan to North, saying, “General Crook ordered that the horses captured from the Red Cloud and Red Leaf herds are to be used as a reserve. Three Bears’s pony has given out, so I told him he could select a new one—”
“So he wants this one, don’t he?” Luther North interrupted.
“He does,” Clark snapped.
“Well, you just tell Three Bears that he can’t have him,” Frank added. “He’s already called for.”
“We got seventy extra horses,” Luther attempted to explain to the perplexed lieutenant, “all of ’em given to the Pawnee as extra stock when ours give out. You can have Three Bears pick something to ride from among them.”
“But this was a Sioux horse to begin with,” Clark said after Three Bears seethed a moment in his own tongue, the Sioux leader’s dark eyes fiery as he watched more and more of his traditional enemies, the Pawnee, gather nearby to listen in on the argument.
“Major Clark—I suggest you check with Crook before you go off half-cocked,” Seamus said.
Clark whirled on Donegan. “A civilian such as yourself has nothing to say about this—”
“I damn well do have something to say if I see a man stealing a horse from a friend of mine!” Seamus snapped.
“The horse in question belonged to Three Bears to begin with!”
“That horse hasn’t belonged to Three Bears since Macken
zie captured Red Cloud’s herd!” Frank bellowed.
Clark wagged his head adamantly, pointing to the horse and saying, “I think for the sake of relations among our scouts that you could see your way clear to choose another—”
“The hell I will!” Frank shouted.
Clark’s knuckles had turned white gripping his reins, in stark contrast to the red rising in his face. In an attempt to control the harsh anger in his voice, his words came out clipped and staccato. “If that’s the way you want it, I will see the general about this, right now.”
“You do that,” Frank replied, seething, “and I’ll be right behind you to see him too.”
As soon as Clark and Three Bears reined their horses about, Frank called out for one of his Pawnee sergeants, telling the scout to have the dark bay saddled.
Luther grabbed hold of Frank’s arm, saying, “If you’ll wait for me to get saddled up too, I’ll go with you.”
“Count me in too, Frank,” Seamus added. “I’ve got my horse saddled right over there.”
The elder North turned to gaze across the river at the naked bluff on the south side where sat the fort’s whitewashed buildings splayed against a pale winter sky. “All right. A few more minutes won’t matter—go get ready, Lute. Thanks … thanks, fellas.”
The Pawnee sent to saddle up Luther’s mount hadn’t returned when one of Tom Moore’s teamsters came plodding up atop one of the balky mules, hollering out in great excitement.
“Major North! Major North!” he bellowed as he brought his mule to a clattering halt and bolted from its bare back. “Had to come tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Gloree! But you got them Sioux on the warpath!” he spat, breathing heavily. “They say they’re coming over here right now to clean out your Pawnee!”
“Goddamn their turncoat hides!” North snarled as he whipped about on his heel, shouting to this man and that, hurling orders for the entire battalion to take up their arms and make ready to defend their lives and their property against their ancient and mortal enemies.
“I knew better,” Donegan said, all but under his breath.
“Knew better about what?” Luther asked as he trotted up.
“Crook should’ve knowed better than to try mixing Pawnee and Sioux in the same scouting party.”
“The mortal truth, that is. Too much blood been spilled between ’em already,” Frank North added sourly. “I figured Crook would know.”
“It was bound to come to this,” Seamus said with a doleful wag of his head as he slipped one of his revolvers out of its holster and confirmed that the cylinder was fully loaded. “They been enemies too bleeming long.”
“You have our men wait here, Luther,” Frank instructed his brother. “We’ll head up to the fort.”
“On that pony?” Donegan asked.
“Damn right—on my pony,” Frank responded gruffly. “I’ll get this settled with the general, once and for all—or the Pawnee battalion are going home.”
“I’ll have the men stay here and keep watch over the herd and our camp,” Luther volunteered, waving one of his sergeants over. “I figure they can hold their own against the Sioux without us.”
“Even though those Lakota outnumber the Pawnee more’n two to one,” Donegan replied, “your boys ought to make a good stand of it.”
The three civilians leaped into the saddle and loped away, heading toward the ferry. Problem was, between the Pawnee bivouac and the riverbank lay the Sioux camp. As the three riders came in sight of the Sioux mercenaries, Seamus could see that most of them had gathered in a large knot around Three Bears as he harangued them.
“Damn, but that one’s a red preacher if he’s anything at all!” Donegan muttered. “If he ain’t sermonizing to Crook about this or about that, he’s preaching to his warriors about you and that pony!”
Just as the trio approached the group, the Sioux all fell silent, staring with undisguised anger at the white men. Frank tapped the pony with a spur. Being a high-spirited animal, the pony began to dance and cavort as the three passed by the Sioux warriors. At the same time, Frank spontaneously began singing the Pawnee war song—well known to many of the older Lakota warriors.
Luther promptly joined in. At which time Seamus switched the reins to his left hand, positioning his right near the butt of the revolver he wore cocked over his left hip.
Not another word was spoken. Not one of the Sioux moved anything but their eyes as they watched the three white men pass by, two of them singing that song of their mortal enemy.
Atop the bluff at the fort, Frank spotted Clark and demanded the lieutenant accompany him to find Crook.
“I’m told the general’s over in the sutler’s store,” Clark said. “Purchasing the last of his personal items for the march.”
North said, “Suppose you go tell him we want to see him about this pony business.”
“Yes,” Clark seethed as he began to stomp off. “I’ll do just that.”
Donegan waited with Frank and Luther as Clark went into the sutler’s shack and returned with Crook.
“General—there stands the pony in question,” the lieutenant explained. “Per your instructions regarding the mounting of our auxiliaries—after your meeting with the Sioux scouts—I took Three Bears to the herd across the river and allowed him to select a new mount because his was played out.”
“So explain how this altercation with Major North came about.” Crook said, his eyes flicking from Frank to Luther, then back to the lieutenant.
Clark replied, “Major North refused to let Three Bears have the horse the chief picked out and took him back from the Indian.”
“I see,” Crook muttered, clearly nettled that he had to be dragged into what he saw as a trivial matter.
“Wait a minute, General,” Frank said, stepping forward. “I didn’t refuse that Sioux a horse. That’s where your lieutenant here is wrong.”
The lieutenant edged forward, saying, “I am not wrong!”
“Mr. Clark,” Crook snapped. “You will wait until I ask you to speak. Go ahead, Major.”
Frank said, “The horse the Sioux picked was the one you yourself allowed me to choose for myself back at Fort Laramie, General.”
Rubbing his nose thoughtfully for a brief moment, Crook cleared his throat and turned on his aide. “Mr. Clark, it is clear to me that you should have gone to the Norths’ camp before you took the Sioux chief to the herd to select a replacement mount. That way the major could have shown you which horses we were holding to remount the Sioux for the campaign.”
“With the general’s permission,” the lieutenant protested, “I think the matter of this pony being returned to Three Bears should be given more weight—”
“Permission denied, Mr. Clark,” Crook snapped angrily. “This is a horse I gave to Major North. None of the horses given out to the Pawnee will be returned to the Sioux. Is that understood?”
Clark nodded, abjectly humiliated. “Perfectly, sir.”
“I will not have it said that George Crook gave … then took away. Is that understood as well, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely understood.”
Donegan almost felt sorry for Clark, if it hadn’t been for the fact that the lieutenant had thrown in with the wrong side in a dispute over right and wrong.
North graciously suggested, “General—I have an idea, with your approval, of course.”
“I’m listening.”
“I have forty extra horses that you gave to my men after the roundup and capture. They will probably be all the extras we shall need on this campaign—so I’ll be glad to turn all the others over to the Sioux scouts. Why not have them take all the rest of the horses that were kept out as extras?”
Crook’s eyes brightened once more. “A splendid proposal, Major.” He turned to Clark. “You’ll see that you pass word on to our Sioux auxiliaries, Lieutenant?”
Clark grumbled, “Yes, General.”
“Perhaps that will soothe t
heir ruffled feathers.”
“War feathers, General,” Seamus corrected.
“Quite so, Irishman. Quite so,” Crook replied.
“General, if I may,” Frank North said, “while we’re here, I’d like to address this matter of something the lieutenant said to me: that he was planning on having command of all the Indian scouts.”
Clark hurriedly added, “That is what you told me, General—”
But Crook interrupted the officer by raising his hand, saying,
“I get the feeling you have a problem with that, Major North.”
Frank explained. “Not really me, General. My men won’t go for it. They’ve fought under me and Luther for so long, and now you’d put them under the command of a soldier who rode boldly into our herd beside an old enemy, the one called Three Bears, to take one of our horses? I don’t think your plan’s going to work.”
“I believe I see,” Crook brooded, tugging at one of the two long braids in his beard. Then quickly he looked up, pointing at Frank, “You go tell your battalion that they remain under your command and will take their orders from no one else but the commander of this expedition.”
“Understood, General,” Frank replied.
Crook wagged his head as he looked at a sullen Lieutenant Clark, then turned back to Frank North. “Still, my heart wishes the Sioux and your Pawnee could get along better. To be friends now that we’re all soldiers together.”
Frank rubbed a boot toe on the frozen ground, in the manner of a man looking for the right words to put on a difficult subject. “General—if I may—to force the Sioux and the Pawnee to become friends will be very difficult, for they have been bitterest enemies for many generations.” North went on to briefly relate how long ago the Pawnee felt the pressure of the Lakota bands when the Sioux first moved onto the plains.
Crook said, “I see. So it would be fair to say the Pawnee and the Sioux have had themselves a blood feud for a long, long time.”
A Cold Day in Hell Page 21