by John Foxjohn
Crazy Horse leaned forward and picked up a long, thin branch. “Watch this.” He scraped the branches end on the wall and stuck it in the fire, let it catch and held it up. Instead of the normal color, the fire changed to a light blue and then pinkish.
In amazement, Hand stared at the fire as it changed colors. Must be the saltpeter. He’d have to try that sometime when by himself and paint it.
As he watched, Crazy Horse responded to his question. “I don’t know why this place…is special. Whankan Thanka guides me here. I hear him better. Don’t know why. When I die…I want to be brought here.”
“Does Worm know of this place?”
Crazy Horse nodded. “Yes. I brought him here…a few years ago.”
After a long silence, Crazy Horse looked up from the fire. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“Of course.”
“When I die…if Ate is unable…bring me here.”
Heaviness settled in the pit of Hand’s stomach. “You have many years before you die.” He wondered if his brother had a vision, but it was not polite to ask that question.
“Maybe. But no one knows…for sure. Hand…what bothers you about Cat’s death?”
He dropped his head as tears crept down his cheeks. “I promised her father I’d look after her. I left her. Didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
Crazy Horse straightened his legs and nodded. Thunder rumbled, and lightening flashed, illuminating trees outside the cave. Hand was glad he had run into his brother. He’d be soaked if he had slept outside.
“How would you feel…if you stayed with Cat and I was killed?”
Crazy Horse’s question caught him off guard. He’d never thought about that aspect before. He had to admit that he would have felt worse. He couldn’t’ve done anything about Cat. That was out of his control, but if Crazy Horse had died without him there, he had control over that.
“I see your point. Why do you feel guilty about Lone Bear’s death?”
Crazy Horse buried his face in trembling hands. Minutes passed as rain poured outside. With his eyes red, he looked up at Hand. “I told Lone Bear…he couldn’t go. Knew he had bad medicine. Hand, he begged me. Said he would be shamed if I left him behind. He’d—”
Crazy Horse stood, walked into the cave’s blackness and returned a few minutes later with an armful of wood. After putting sticks into the dying fire, he sat back down and stared at the lightning.
Hand waited, hoping he would continue, but not knowing if he would.
As minutes passed, Crazy Horse turned back to Hand. “He said he’d rather die if Whankan Thanka so chose than be shamed.”
Hand scooted back from the fire’s heat. “Would you have felt the same?”
“Yes.”
“Then Lone Bear chose his own way. You didn’t choose it for him.”
Late that night, both rolled into their robes after hours of talking about each other’s situation. When Hand awoke, Crazy Horse’s robes lay empty. He stepped outside to find his brother weaving boughs into a frame. Hand asked him what he was doing, but his brother grunted and didn’t answer. With the wall complete, they took it inside. It surprised Hand to find a large stack of cedar in the cave.
“We need…to purify ourselves. Get rid of our bad thoughts.”
With the makeshift wall covering the entrance to the cave, Crazy Horse put cedar logs on the fire. Both chanted as smoke filled the cave. They continued to chant and sweat. Ragged coughs erupted from both in the smoke-filled sauna.
Hand’s eyes stung from smoke and salt. His chest tightened like a buffalo bull stood on it. When he didn’t think he could stand it any longer, calmness took his panic away. His spirit found serenity, and his head fell back, eyes closed and he breathed normally, as if the smoke had disappeared.
As the smoke became denser, chanting stopped from both. Hand, with his eyes closed, watched two indistinct figures walking toward him through a fog. He strained to make out their faces, but they had to move closer before he recognized his parents. He tried to speak but couldn’t. He wanted to talk to them, ask them if they were proud of him, or blamed him for their deaths.
A smile creased his mother’s mouth. “Andy, we love you.” Hand heard the words although he knew she didn’t speak. His gaze switched to his father. His mind picked up his father’s words. “I’m proud of you, son. You are a fine man. What happened to the wagon train is not your fault. We are glad you made it. Do not forget Abbey. She is your future.” His father reached out and grasped his shoulder.
Hand’s eyes snapped open. The wall blocking the cave entrance had disappeared, and all the smoke, too. Crazy Horse leaned close—his palm resting on Hand’s shoulder.
Later, when they rode from the cave, Hand remembered what his father had said. The fact that his parent’s didn’t blame him for their death removed a huge burden he’d carried. But he didn’t understand about Abbey, and didn’t know anyone with that name, or how she fit into his future.
Twelve
In moon of June berries, the tribes gathered together for the Sundance, held near the Little Missouri River. It was the first gathering since they’d killed all the soldiers in the great fight by the Holy Road.
After all the clans arrived, the feasting and dancing began with all the warrior societies helping—even the contraries made a great dance.
News of the whites kept filtering in. To everyone’s surprise but Hand’s, the soldiers did not leave. The Lakota thought one great victory would run them out of the country, but that didn’t happen.
With everyone agreeing they had to attack again, the Big Bellies argued around the council fires. As the debates boiled over, the arguments about who should lead, and the way they should carry out the attack frustrated the young warriors. While the Big Bellies and elders argued, the soldiers grew stronger. The whites flooded the Holy Road.
No one was more angry and frustrated than Crazy Horse. With a desire to get out of camp and away from the dithering elders, he formed a raiding party to go against their longtime enemies, the Crows. He didn’t have a problem finding young warriors to go along. Ready for action—any kind of action after the long winter—their desire to fight alongside Crazy Horse spurred them to volunteer.
With a party of seventy young warriors, including Hand, He Dog, Little Hawk, and Good Weasel, they left camp. Crazy Horse told Hump to let him know when they’d stopped arguing like old women and decided to do something.
After heading west out of camp, they crossed the Powder River. With a day of riding behind them, Hand asked Crazy Horse where they were going.
“We’ll follow the Powder River…till it comes to Arrow Creek, and then turn south. The Crows camp…on the east side of the creek this time of year.”
After traveling two days along the creek to the foothills of the White Mountains, Crazy Horse put He Dog out front with five scouts. He also put two scouts to their rear.
“Why did you put scouts to our rear?” Hand asked.
“Where’s the best place…to attack a person from?”
Hand glanced around trying to visualize what would the best way to attack another person. After a moment of thinking, he said, “Come up behind him.”
Crazy Horse nodded. “Right. Where do you think the best place…would be to attack a war party?”
“I guess from the rear, too.”
“You don’t need to feel bad…about asking these questions,” Crazy Horse said reading his thoughts. “How do you think…I learned these things?”
“By asking questions.”
Crazy Horse laughed and nodded. He stared off in the distance for a few moments as if looking into his past. “Yes,” he said after his long thoughtful process. “I almost drove Old Mans Afraid crazy…with so many questions.” He laughed again, tapping his bow on his leg.
Before camping the next afternoon, He Dog rode in fast. “We found a camp of Crows less than half a sun’s ride up the creek.”
“Will they be there…in the morning, or do you thin
k they’ll leave tonight?”
“I believe they’ll be there in the morning. They were setting up the camp.”
“How many Crows are there?”
“I counted about fifty, and it’s a war party.”
That’s a large party, Hand thought.
“Where are their horses?” Crazy Horse asked.
“They have them staked out on the north side of the creek and only had two guards.”
“They’re careless…with only two guards.”
He Dog nodded, but said, “They’ll have more tonight.”
“Ayiee. This is good. We’ll hit them in the morning before the sun comes up.”
These words sent a cold tremor down Hand’s spine—hair stood on his neck. As if it was yesterday, he heard Mr. Thule say, “The Indians like to attack right before daylight when everyone is tired, but I can’t get the other lunkheads to realize this.” The guilt that he’d lived with for not waking his father and telling him about the sleeping guards flooded back. He’d let his father down, but he wouldn’t let Crazy Horse down.
After camping in a draw away from the creek, hiding the raiding party from the Crows, Crazy Horse called everyone together and laid out his plan. “We won’t have any fires tonight.”
He knows we know this, Hand thought. That’s what makes him a great leader. He doesn’t leave anything to chance.
“There will also be no noise,” Crazy Horse continued. “The Crow camp isn’t far. We’ll hit it in the morning as soon as we can see. I want He Dog to take ten warriors and lead them around the north side of the camp. At my signal, He Dog’s group will kill the guards and stampede the horses.”
Little Hawk interrupted him. “Can I go with He Dog?”
“No. You’ll go with me.” Crazy Horse waited a moment, glancing around to see if anyone would interrupt him again, and then continued. “When He Dog’s group stampedes the horses, the Crows will rush to save them, and that’s when the rest of us will hit them from the west side of their camp. He Dog, make sure your people don’t wander to the east side of the camp when you stampede the horses.”
Long Tail asked, “Why should they not go to the east side of the camp?”
Crazy Horse looked at He Dog in disgust.
He Dog shook his head and replied for Crazy Horse, “If we go to the east side of the camp, we’ll be shooting at each other.”
Hand, glad that Long Tail had asked the question, looked at Long Tail with the same ‘what-a-stupid question’ expression that everyone else gave him. Hand wondered how many others were glad Long Tail asked the question.
The next morning started with the familiar feelings Hand always had before a raid. Butterflies fluttered around in his stomach, and the closer they got to the action, the larger the butterflies grew. His heart pounded in his ears, and his scalp tingled. Sweat pooled under his shirt, even though the morning held a chill.
* * * *
Before first light, He Dog’s group struck the horse herd, and Crazy Horse’s plan worked to perfection.
As the first gun exploded over the sleeping camp, the Crows awoke and rushed to save their horses as predicted. The larger group hit the camp from the rear and cut down many on the first volley. The others turned to flee, which wasn’t a bad idea because the Lakota had caught them flat-footed.
As they fled, the raiding party gave chase with Crazy Horse leading up a gulley. Thundering horse hooves and yipping of the Lakota warriors vibrated in Hand’s ears. With all his anxiety gone, he joined with the others to close in on the desperately fleeing Crow warriors.
When it seemed that the Lakota would overrun the Crows, the unexpected happened. A party of Crow warriors that they didn’t know about hit them from the flank.
Crazy Horse spotted the problem before anyone, and whirled his horse. He attacked the new group. As Hand became aware of the problem on their flank, he too, turned to meet the Crows. While he galloped several lengths behind his brother, a spurt of blood erupted from the head of Crazy Horse’s mount. The force of the bullet slammed the horse backwards. He fell sideways, pinning Crazy Horse underneath.
With bullets and arrows whizzing, Crazy Horse jerked his knife out. Hand kicked his stallion to full speed, racing to help his brother. Crazy Horse stabbed his wounded horse in the neck, causing convulsions, giving himself a second to pull out from under the dying animal.
A cracking sound close to Hand’s left ear made him jerk his head. With a stinging on the top of his ear, Hand leaned to the side of his horse, elbow extended in a hook. The boys had practiced this move for years without using it in combat. Crazy Horse’s elbow hooked in the same way. When their elbows locked, Hand jerked, leaning the other direction. Crazy Horse flung himself onto the back of Hand’s horse as he spun the animal away from the Crows’ fire.
What amazed Hand the most, they got away with it, although he did have the top part of his left ear shot off.
A couple of days later, the raiding party returned to camp. As usual, they had a victory celebration. With the people chanting and drums beating, everyone turned out to celebrate around the large fire. One warrior after another stepped into the light to tell his story.
Silence more quiet than death fell over the crowd. Drums stopped, and everyone stood or sat open-mouthed when Crazy Horse stepped into the circle.
“I have a story to tell,” he said to the astonished crowd. He related the brave deeds of his brother saving his life.
Crazy Horse, true to form, would not talk about his own deeds, but this time, he talked about Hand’s.
* * * *
After the feast, the raiding party learned that the council had decided to stop arguing and make a decision when to attack the soldiers.
This time, they chose to divide and hit two places at once.
Under Roman Nose, a Cheyenne war chief, one group would raid north of the fort where the whites cut grass for their horses in a place they called the Hay Field.
With Hump leading the second group, the Lakota would attack a camp the white soldiers set up at the head of Little Piney Creek. The scouts had reported that the wood trains were camped there with about fifty soldiers.
After setting up a temporary camp in the wood line not far from Lodge Trail Ridge, Hump sent Crazy Horse and He Dog to scout the soldiers and Hand, as usual, tagged along. The soldiers had set up their camp different from what the Indians had seen before. Their wagons contained many long thin boxes. The soldiers had taken the boxes out of the wagons and set them on the ground, forming a corral to keep their horses in. They’d set up tents inside the ring of boxes, and had a few outside of the corral.
Crazy Horse, He Dog, and Hand crawled on their bellies to get a closer look.
After reporting to Hump what they’d seen, Hand had expected his brother to be eager, but this time he wasn’t in favor of the attack. “This is no good, Hump,” Crazy Horse said.
“Why not? There are very few of the soldiers. We should be able to overrun them in no time.”
“Do you know…what’s in the boxes they have unloaded and hidden behind?”
“No, but we should be able to finish them off.”
“The boxes contain the fast shooting guns…and bullets.” Crazy Horse took a deep breath. “I’ll go, of course, but many of us…will die for so few soldiers.”
“Crazy Horse, for all your bravery and daring in battle, sometimes you’re too careful,” Hump said.
“I don’t believe our young warriors should die needlessly, and if we attack…this time they will.”
Hand stood, his head turning from one to the other as the two friends debated the issue. Hump, a great warrior and leader, was bold and daring, not afraid to attack anyone at anytime. Crazy Horse, on the other hand, planned carefully and did not take unnecessary risks with others’ lives.
“Our people have no bullets for our guns,” Crazy Horse said. “We’ll have to go against the soldiers hidden behind the boxes with their fast shooting guns that they don’t have to reload often
and all we’ll have are arrows and spears.”
Hand watched his brother as he talked to Hump. In many things, he believed as Crazy Horse did. He believed in his judgment and wisdom, especially in war.
He had to agree with Hump on this. There weren’t that many soldiers behind the boxes. He didn’t know what bothered Crazy Horse. It should be easy for them to kill the soldiers. Those rifles and bullets, especially the bullets, would make a big difference to the people.
Hump’s plan—or lack of plan—angered Crazy Horse. Hump would lead six decoys, and all the other warriors would do what they wanted to.
“This is the kind of fighting for young men going against Crows for scalps and horses, not against white soldiers hidden behind boxes with the fast shooting guns,” Crazy Horse grumbled.
An unusual occurrence happened before the attack began, unusual at least to Hand, who had never seen it before. On a ridge overlooking the wagons, several of the Big Bellies and others, including Red Cloud, sat their horses to watch the fight.
Later, the people argued amongst themselves about why the leaders chose to watch this fight from the safety of the hill.
Some believed they watched to see how well Hump led. Others argued they wanted to see Crazy Horse proved wrong—be on hand to say, “I told you so.”
Now, Hand had misgivings. His brother often hesitated while speaking, pausing in the middle of sentences—but didn’t do it now. Hand noticed again, when adamant about something—passionate, Crazy Horse didn’t hesitate in speech.
He didn’t know why his brother believed what he did, but Crazy Horse had gone out of his way over the years to study the soldiers—emulate what he believed they did well. No one, in any Lakota camp, knew as much about soldiers as did Crazy Horse.
This was the reason the Crows and other Indians had so much trouble with raids led by Crazy Horse. In battle, his attacks resembled white soldiers, not Lakota warriors.
If he had doubts, they should listen to him.
Hump led the decoys out with the other warriors hidden. When the soldiers fired on the decoys, the rest of the warriors charged out to attack.