by John Foxjohn
“Yes, about half of them left and haven’t returned.” As he talked, loud creaking noises from the fort’s gate caused them to turn and look. Soldiers marched out of the gate and many men riding horses followed the walking ones. Hand wondered what the soldiers were up to, now.
When no more left, and with the gate open, the Indians moved closer to the fort to see inside, but they saw no movement.
“Could it be a trap?” one of the Cheyenne asked.
“I don’t think so,” Dull Knife said. “Too many of the soldiers have left for it to be a trap.”
“What do you think?” Crazy Horse asked Hand. “The soldiers did say they would close the forts on the Holy Road. For once, maybe the whites told the truth.”
“What should we do?” asked Dull Knife.
Crazy Horse looked at him and laughed. “Burn it to the ground.”
As the last ashes of the fort glowed in the darkness, they left, traveling back to their camps. Worm told Crazy Horse and Hand that there would be a big council the next night to decide what to do about the peace treaty the white soldiers wanted them to sign.
“Will you go, Crazy Horse?” asked Worm.
“No, father, there’s…no need to go.”
“Why do you say this?”
“They’ll argue. Most of them…are going to sign anyway. It would be a waste…of time to go.”
Little Hawk spoke up. “Why do you think most of them will sign?”
“They’ll sign because it’s the…easiest way. Red Cloud and his followers will sign. The whites are saying that Red Cloud is the chief…of all the Lakota. This is why they demand that he sign. He will…because this is what he wants. He’ll finally be recognized…by the whites, and that was his goal…all along.”
“You don’t think he had the best interests of the people at heart when we engaged in fighting the white soldiers?” asked Worm.
“No, Father. You know him…as well as I do.”
“True. I do know Red Cloud for what he is. I’m glad you do, too.”
“Will you sign the treaty?” Hand asked.
Crazy Horse glanced at Hand for a long moment and shook his head. “No. I won’t sign this treaty…or any other. Their word is no good. You wait and see. They’ll break this one…too, as they have all the others.”
* * * *
He Dog and his younger brother, Short Bull, visited Worm’s lodge that night with the intent of talking Crazy Horse into going to the council. Hand, along with Little Hawk and Worm did talk him into going.
The next afternoon, Hump came by and he and Crazy Horse went for a long walk to talk over what would happen and what each thought.
The Big Bellies had set up the huge council lodge on a large flat meadow close to the river, with enough room for everyone to assemble. Everyone realized the importance this council would have on the welfare of the Hunkpatilia. Before it began, Worm’s entire family walked over together. They’d hoped to get there early so they could get close, but many of the village had already gathered, having the same idea. Crazy Horse didn’t mind being in the back of the surge of people around the lodge. Even when he did go to councils, he stood in the back, away from all the attention.
As the members of the council of chiefs, along with a friend of Spotted Tail, made their way to the council lodge, Spotted Tail’s friend Lame Tail stood to speak. He had to wait until the buzz of conversation around the lodge stopped. “The great father in Washington has asked me to speak to his brothers about peace. The great father doesn’t wish to have to fight his Indian brothers.”
“He does it a lot for someone who doesn’t want war,” someone yelled. Lame Tail looked perplexed as laughter engulfed the council lodge.
Lame Tail’s name fit him perfectly, Hand thought. Hand glanced at Crazy Horse. The little smile on his brother’s face told Hand that he agreed, too.
The Indian representative went on as the laughter died down. “He has agreed to give his Lakota brothers all the land west of the Missouri river. He will set this land aside for our people. When we get there, he’ll issue everyone food, clothing, and blankets.”
A murmur ran through the crowd when he said the last part. The speaker raised his hand to quiet the ones still talking. “The great white father has also agreed to let us have all the Powder River country. This land will be called the unyielded Indian territory.”
“What does that white word mean?” Young Mans Afraid asked.
“It means, no whites will be allowed to enter this land. Only Lakota can come here. The Lakota who wish to live by the white man at the fort may do so at the reservation they’ll set up. The ones who would like to follow the buffalo and live in the old ways may do so in the Powder River country.”
Sword stood to speak. “What do our people have to do for this to happen?”
“Red Cloud must go in and sign the treaty for all of our people.”
Hump stood. “You say we’re to be given this land. How can the great white father give us something we already have?”
This brought on a lot of agreement from all the people around the lodge, and the representative stared at Hump for several moments like he tried to think of an answer. Hand knew that this question had been one posed by Crazy Horse.
“The great white father no longer wishes to fight. He wants us to live in peace,” Lame Tail said.
“What happens if we don’t all agree to this?” Hump asked.
“If you don’t all come in, the soldiers will be sent to kill you.”
Little Hawk stood up. “He has tried that already. It didn’t work out the way he had expected.”
Murmurs of agreement passed throughout the lodge. Young Mans Afraid stood, waiting for quiet. He raised his hands. “My brothers, the council of chiefs has given this talk of peace with the white man much thought. We have gone through several bad winters with the old and sick dying from hunger, and the little ones crying from empty bellies. This has happened because we have been too busy fighting and haven’t put away enough meat.”
He paused, but continued, “We have decided on several things. First, we have decided we need to talk to the white man about peace. This will assure that we keep our lands, and feed our people. We can also continue our trade with them. Since we have been fighting, we have a huge collection of robes. With these robes, we can trade with the whites as we did in the old times. We can get what we need from the whites, but we can still live as our fathers and grandfathers lived.”
Hand could see that many of the people around the lodge agreed with the decision of the elders. With two hard winters behind them, they survived because many of the elderly walked into the cold nights and died—sacrificing themselves so the young would have enough food. He had to wonder though, if the whites would be content and leave them in peace. Crazy Horse didn’t think so, and Hand had his doubts, too.
“We have also agreed,” Mans Afraid continued, “that we’ll make Red Cloud a special chief of our people to talk to the whites about this one thing only.”
Worm leaned over and whispered to Crazy Horse, “That is a mistake. Once they give him this, he won’t let them take it back.” Crazy Horse nodded. Hand looked over and saw Red Cloud standing close to the lodge, and he had to admit, the look reminded him of an old fox about to pounce on a rabbit.
“We have also agreed that we’ll appoint another shirt-wearer. The Bad Face clan doesn’t have a chief representative, so we’ll award the honor of shirt-wearer to Black Twin.”
No one minded this. Black Twin was a noted warrior and a strong man who had already had a big say in the council.
Hump jumped to his feet, face red. “You soon forget that we can’t trust the word of the white man,” he spat the words out like the flickering tongue of a snake. “All the white man has ever done is lie. If they aren’t lying, they’re trying to take what’s ours. You expect our people to trust them and to take handouts from these white men. No true Lakota warrior would agree to this. I would rather die than sit around th
e white man’s fort waiting for him to feed my family.” When he finished, he turned and stalked away, and many followed, including Crazy Horse and his family, and the young warriors who followed Crazy Horse.
That afternoon, several of them went to talk to Hump, who packed his lodge.
“Where are you going?” Crazy Horse asked.
“I’m going to go north of the Elk River, Yellowstone, to stay with my mother’s people, the Miniminiconjou. There, warriors are still warriors and don’t take handouts from white people.”
“I wish you would stay with us,” Crazy Horse said. “We aren’t going to the fort to sign the treaty and give up like some woman. Stay and fight with us.”
“I may be back, but I’m going.”
He wouldn’t change his mind. They stood around in an uncomfortable silence. They’d learned long ago, once Hump made up his mind, he would not change it.
The next day the camp started packing—many left to go to the Powder River country, while the others traveled to Fort Laramie to sign the treaty.
Steady streams of people went to the fort. Hand shook his head. He wasn’t sure if the whites had intended it this way, but they had divided the Hunkpatilia.
* * * *
Hunting along the Powder River, as usual, left the Lakota’s parfleches swelling with meat. After several raids against their Indian enemies, the Lakota horse herds increased. Crazy Horse, with Hand at his side, led most of these raids. No one questioned his daring and courage in battle. He wouldn’t speak of his brave deeds to others, but now, others spoke for him.
Stories circulated the fires at night about how he did this or that. How he charged into the enemies by himself. How he killed this one with his gun, and counted coup against another one. Other stories also made the rounds—his careful planning with few lost warriors, but most of all, his generosity. The older women worshiped Crazy Horse as if he were Whankan Thanka himself.
As the mild winter passed, the camp had little of the running nose sickness, and plenty of dried meat. Hunting gave them a constant supply of fresh meat. After killing the buffalo and skinning them, the hunters would eat the raw liver. Hand, however, still refused to eat raw liver.
As the moon of tender grass, April, tiptoed in, a crier ran through announcing that Hump, a village favorite, had returned. Many people ran out to greet him, laughing and hugging him, while others stood with big smiles.
Even though he was several years older than Crazy Horse, they were best friends, more brothers than friends. Hump never did tell anyone why he returned to the Hunkpatilia.
Constant runners visited to keep them abreast of the news and it surprised no one in the Powder River country when one arrived to tell them that the whites had broken the treaty.
They’d shot at several Ogallala, and had badly wounded Brave Cat, a Big Belly. The whites didn’t want the Lakota to trade. Several had gone to what the whites called the Platte River to trade their robes but the whites turned them back and shot at them. At Fort Laramie, the Indians who stayed by the fort sent Red Cloud to talk to the whites, but they told Red Cloud that the Lakota had to stay away from Platte River, the Oregon Trail, and the metal tracks that they made for their trains.
The whites informed Red Cloud that the Lakota had violated the treaty, stating the Indians could trade at the post on the reservation only. Indians in the Powder River country could either come to the reservation to trade or not trade at all.
That night when Crazy Horse returned from visiting at No Water’s camp, they told him the news. His reaction differed from what Hand expected. He shrugged. Crazy Horse shook his head. “This is like the whites. They make a treaty…they know we can’t read and understand. They don’t explain these things…tell one thing to get us to sign, and then accuse…the Indians of violating the treaty. What’d they expect? We knew all along…we couldn’t trust the white man’s word.”
Hand knew something troubled Crazy Horse, but he didn’t know what—it probably had something to do with Black Buffalo Woman. She’d given birth to her third son.
In the last part of moon of red cherries, July, Hump got a small raiding party together to go against the Snakes. Crazy Horse, He Dog, Hand, and Good Weasel went along with several others.
This time, they traveled the long distance to the Wind River without encountering anyone. Almost a year ago, they’d started to make this same trip but had run into a Crow war party and had a running fight.
Hump sent out scouts, and He Dog and Hand found the Snakes camped on a small creek to the west of the Wind River. When they returned, Hump moved the camp closer to the Snakes. Hump, Good Weasel, and Crazy Horse went to scout the camp, since He Dog and Hand hadn’t gotten close. When they returned, Hump and Crazy Horse disagreed. Hump wanted to attack the camp, but Crazy Horse advised against it, saying, “There are too many of them for this little party to attack, and they’re better armed than us.”
At times like this, Hump wished Crazy Horse acted more like Little Hawk, who would charge into any danger, like Hump would. This time Hump listened to Crazy Horse. His advice made sense, even if Hump didn’t like it. They only had twenty-five warriors and they estimated the camp had about two hundred.
In the lasts days of moon of colored leaves, September, Hump again got another raiding party together to go against the Snakes. This time he selected a large party, over a hundred warriors. Little Hawk went with the group this time. The last time he had been out with his own raiding party. As they left camp, a steady rain started to fall. By the time they arrived at the higher elevation of Wind River, sleet pelted them. It had taken them several cold days to get there, colder than normal for that time of year.
After setting up camp on Cone Creek that flowed into the Wind River, Hump sent the scouts out. This time, they didn’t find the camp.
As the sun tried to peek over the trees the next day, they trudged on through the snow, mud, muck, and ice, setting their camp up on Blood Creek. After putting up hasty shelters to help keep out of the cold, Hump again sent scouts out.
Crazy Horse and Hand found the Snake camp and spent a long, silent time looking it over. On the way back, it grew colder and they slipped and slid their way back to camp. Once again, Crazy Horse wasn’t in favor of the attack.
This angered Hump. “This is the second time you have wanted to call off a fight against these Snakes.”
“Listen. Our horses almost slid out from under us…several times on the way back…and we were walking them. We’d have spilled if we’d run our horses.”
“Everyone laughed at the last time we went back without a fight, and this time there is going to be a fight. You can go back if you want, but I’m staying,” Hump said.
Little Hawk cut in, “We can hit them before they even know we’re here. They’ll have to run and their horses will be in the same mess as ours.”
Ayiee, Hand thought. That is why Hump waited until Little Hawk came back before getting this raid together.
“I’ll fight with you, Hump, this you know,” Crazy Horse said. “But, we’re going to lose some good warriors today. Our horses aren’t going to be able to move in this stuff. They’ll sink up to their knees.” Crazy Horse turned to look at Little Hawk, “The Snakes won’t run. There are more of them and they have better weapons. They’ll fight us today.”
Crazy Horse again turned to Hump. “It’s an awful place, and a bad day for a fight. Our enemies outnumber us. Look around, Hump. You and I have guns—Hand, Little Hawk, Good Weasel, and He Dog have guns. The rest have bows and arrows.”
“You can leave, but the rest of us will fight this day,” Hump said stubbornly. Hand saw that look. He knew Crazy Horse was right, but also knew that Hump wouldn’t change his mind. There would be a fight today.
Thirteen
Hump planned for everyone to walk their horses around the west side of the Snake camp where a group of trees would hide their movement. When they entered the tree line, they maneuvered their way through the low growth, and came out
about three bowshots from the camp. After mounting up, they charged on line, catching the camp by surprise.
Charging hooves churned up ice in great chunks. Scared of the conditions, Hand rode next to White Pony. A loud breaking sound like a shot blasted above the noise of the hooves, as White Pony’s horse went down, the horse’s leg shattered.
As Hand slid by, the horse withered and screamed. Now, sounds of alert exploded from the camp, as well as shots. Riding low on his horse, Hand’s butterflies left, until his horse slipped and fell.
The fall stunned him for a moment, but he jumped up and ran to his horse as it rose from the muck. Before Hand reached his mount, his feet shot into the air as if someone had yanked a robe from under him. Stunned, he lay for a moment.
When he rose from the frozen ground, bullets swarmed around him like angry bees. Most of the raiding party lay on the ground or struggled to get back on their horses.
We have to get out of this mess. They’ll kill all of us. Hand had to fight down the panic gripping his throat.
Good Weasel raced by and stopped, giving him a hand to help him get up.
Crazy Horse and Hump were the only ones still on their horses. The Snakes, seeing the shape of the raiding party, poured out of their camp on foot, shooting as they came.
Now, all the Lakota knew what they had to do—run. The Snakes fought while the Lakota ran—when they could stop from slipping down.
With lead flying all around the running warriors, bullets struck two and they fell into the snow, not moving. In order to divert attention away, Crazy Horse turned his horse and charged the Snake warriors on their left flank. Hump saw this, and did the same on the right. This gave the retreating warriors time to gain some distance while they retrieved the dead and wounded.
Hand joined Good Weasel to protect their rear as Crazy Horse and Hump attacked the Snake flanks. When they rejoined, Hump yelled over the noise of the firing, “We’re in for it, Crazy Horse.”
“I know,” Crazy Horse yelled. “As usual, you didn’t listen to me, and as usual, you should have.”