by John Foxjohn
Most of the trip Hand rode beside Crazy Horse. His brother, deep in thought, uttered not one word, and Hand could only imagine what traveled through his mind. Crazy Horse didn’t think about himself, but the good of his people.
“Hand, what do you think…of this trip to the grandmother’s country?”
Hand thought about his answer for a moment. “It’ll be a long, long way to the grandmother’s country through the deep snow, and in the face of ice winds. We won’t have enough food or shelter for our people, and our horses are weak from lack of grass. I don’t think the horses can last that long on the willow bark that we have to feed them. Also, the winters in the grandmother’s country are much longer than here, and even the summer nights are cold and wet.”
“Do you think the soldiers…would chase us if we tried to leave?”
Hand stopped his horse and dismounted. The horse faltered and might collapse. Crazy Horse followed and they trudged through knee-deep snow. Would the soldiers follow them? They had lost respect with the defeat at the Powder River, then Crook and Custer to the Lakota. If they planned to take the land, and they did, they could not let them alone. They had to get revenge. Hand sighed. “I believe the soldiers will chase us till the end of earth if they need to. I don’t believe they’ll let up. It’s a question of honor to them. Who will be the one who captures or takes the surrender of the great Crazy Horse?”
Crazy Horse grunted, but Hand knew he believed him.
How had things gotten so bad? The moon of starvation for the people had been difficult. Since Hand came to the people many years and many lifetimes ago, this was the worst starving time for the Hunkpatilia. Crazy Horse wandered off in the hills by himself again. This wasn’t anything unusual for him, but he seemed to go more often and stay longer since their return from the Hunkpapa camp. Hand understood the burden buried deep inside his brother’s chest.
The Hunkpatilia couldn’t resist the whites much longer. After the battle of Greasy Grass where they defeated the soldier chief, Custer, the other soldiers hounded them from all sides. Without enough time to hunt buffalo to store meat or robes, several of the elderly wandered off in the snow and cold to die so the children could have enough to eat. The camp searched for them the next morning, and buried their bodies with honors because they’d sacrificed their own lives so others could live.
Whispers traveled over camp of giving up and going to the agencies. Because of the grumblings, Crazy Horse had to order the akicita, the camp police, to stop anyone who attempted to leave. With tears trickling down his cheeks, he told Hand, “I never would’ve thought…some of our people would give their freedom away like this. I have to order them stopped for their own good.”
Hand’s heart remained heavy, not only for Crazy Horse, but for all the people. He admired his brother for his stand, his reluctant acceptance of responsibility for all. He believed as Crazy Horse did—they could not exist freely around the whites, but he wasn’t sure he would have stopped the people from leaving. It only postponed the inevitable.
He wished he could help his brother. He knew Crazy Horse felt like he betrayed his people’s wishes. Many had asked Hand what he would do. The question didn’t have an easy for him. He had to balance his loyalty to his brother in whatever he decided. Footsteps interrupted his thoughts.
“Hola. You’re thoughtful tonight,” He Dog said.
Hand scooted closer to the fire as He Dog squatted, extending his stiff hands over the fire.
“Yes. Wondering what went wrong. What’s going to happen?”
“Ah, there are a lot of those thoughts in camp, and that’s why I’m here. Have you seen Crazy Horse?”
“No. Not in a couple of days. I’d imagine he’s in the hills again.” Hand said.
“Yes, it appears so, but we need him here with us.”
“I know, but he has a great burden on him, and he’s trying to figure out what to do.”
Worm joined them. “Hand, do you know where my son has gone?”
“No. I just told He Dog that I think he is in the hills, but I don’t know where he might have gone.”
“Ayiee, There is no telling. If you see him, please tell him there are visitors who want to meet with him.”
Big Road walked up and joined in the conversation. “Has anyone seen Crazy Horse?”
Hand rolled his eyes. Why did everyone come to him looking for his brother? He didn’t know any more than they did. He took a deep breath. “No, we were talking about that—he’s probably in the hills hunting.”
Big Road nodded. “Yes, that seems to be the case often these days. There is great worry among our people about him staying in the hills all the time.”
“What’s their fear?” asked He Dog.
“Most think that our strange man should be here with us when times are so bad. What would happen to us if something happened to him?” Big Road asked.
His statement angered Hand, but Worm replied before he could. “Perhaps my son has to get himself ready for the times to come. Don’t forget about his great medicine—he can’t be harmed unless one of us holds his arms.”
Big Road left, but Hand knew of the widespread concern for his brother. He’d almost forgotten why Worm looked him up. “Who is the visitor?”
“It’s a messenger from the soldier called Bear Coat again. I told him that Crazy Horse was away from camp and he’d have to come back later or wait for him, and we didn’t know for sure when he’d return. The messenger is waiting in White Deer’s lodge, so if you see my son, please tell him.”
* * * *
As Hand slept warm and sound in his robes, the dreaded cry that all feared, but none had ever heard in a Crazy Horse camp, jarred him awake.
“Soldiers are coming.”
Chills shot down Hand’s spine like ice-cold water rolling down his back. He leaped out of his robes and lunged for his weapons. Confusion gripped everyone. Women and children screamed. Warriors ran about in all states of dress. As Hand looked around, Worm and Ina emerged from their lodge and he breathed a relieved sigh.
In the middle of the confusion, Crazy Horse’s voice soared. People stopped to hear what he said. It amazed Hand at how calm his brother was. He talked like there wasn’t an urgent situation.
“Listen, the soldiers aren’t here…yet. We need to hurry, but…not panic. We need to get the lodges down and our women and children to safety. We have time, but we need to all pitch in…abandon nothing. Now hurry.”
The lodges disappeared with all their possessions packed on the travois in no time. Although a soldier attack had never caused the tribe to move camp in a hurry, they’d moved their lodges since creation and knew how to pack.
Located in a wooded draw on the south side of the Cougar Mountains to keep the cold wind off, the entire camp moved out two hours after the warning call.
Scouts guided women and children in the bitter darkness toward the Powder River, through the snow and ice like children running from a bee. With a sense of urgency, they pushed through the snow and mush.
Crazy Horse found Hand. “Take a few warriors and watch…our back trail. If soldiers close in…fire on them…slow them down….don’t fight them. We can’t lose anyone.”
Hand whirled his horse and found four men to go with him. He yanked the hackamore, and the horse whined from pain. He bent forward and patted the horse’s neck. “Sorry fella. Shouldn’t take it out on you.” He hated fleeing from the soldiers. They had to protect the women and children, but fleeing from the enemy left a bad taste in his mouth. He wanted to take the fight to them. Their useless running and hiding didn’t do any good. They couldn’t get away from the soldiers.
As they slid across the frozen river with the horses struggling for footing, all the warriors except the scouts and older men followed behind to act as a human shield to protect the women and children.
Crossing the Powder River, they crawled toward Crazy Woman Creek. The horses slid on the ice, and most of the time trudged through knee-deep snow—an
d in places even deeper snow. Finding grass had been difficult, and the horses tired because they’d existed for a long time by eating willow bark.
At first, children cried from the intense cold, but as the trip wore on, the cold stole their voices and they no longer cried.
Scouts led the people northeast and crossed a big bend in the Tongue River. They stopped at the foot of some small hills northeast of Tse-Tsehese, Belly Butte, and waited for the warriors. An hour later, Hand’s group caught up.
Crazy Horse waited for him on a high ridge that gave them a good view of their back trail. It wasn’t quite daylight yet and they couldn’t see into the valley because of the thick fog engulfing it. “Where are…the soldiers?”
Hand rubbed his hands briskly and wiped ice off his lashes. His teeth chattered. “Six bow shots to our rear in the valley. You’ll see them when the fog lifts. Walking soldiers. I think the ones riding had a hard time. We didn’t need to shoot at them.”
He Dog had walked up while Hand talked to Crazy Horse. “What are the soldiers doing?”
With his hands stuck in his pants front, Hand trembled. “Setting up camp. I believe. Left before all of them arrived in the valley.”
Light filtered into the sky and the fog thinned. Soldiers crawled into the valley below, and set up camp, building fires. As the soldiers cooked their breakfast and warmed themselves, the wind brought the Indians the enticing aroma of boiling coffee. Hand thought how good a hot cup of coffee would taste. It had been a very long time since he had drunk any coffee.
“What’re we to do?” asked Big Road. “Our horses won’t get us away from these soldiers.”
Several started to argue over what to do. Hand glanced at Crazy Horse, who wasn’t paying them any attention—he stared into the valley below. As he turned his gaze to the arguing warriors, with a disgusted expression, he held his hand for silence. “Big Road’s right. We’re going to have to fight…we can’t fight them here, where the ground is to their advantage.”
“What’ll we do?” Hand asked.
Crazy Horse glanced around the group waiting for him. “Decoys.”
“Decoys?” asked He Dog.
“Yes. We’ll use decoys…get the soldiers to the ground where we want to fight…ambush them the way we did the Little Chief Fetterman on the Holy Road.”
“Where will we fight them?” another asked.
Crazy Horse pointed to the south. “Over there…east side of the river there is a canyon that we can lead them into. They won’t know that it’s a canyon…until they get into it. We can have warriors on both the north and south slopes…we’ll shoot down at them. We’ll also have the river to our backs…in case something goes wrong. The walking soldiers will have to cross the open river to follow…will be exposed to us from the high bluffs.”
“Will you lead these decoys, Crazy Horse?” asked the Cheyenne war chief, Big Crow.
“I think its best that we allow the young warriors…to have this honor, as Mans Afraid allowed me in my youth. I looked on it as a great tribute…it’ll be to them.”
After selecting the decoys, Crazy Horse gave them specific orders, and turned to Hand and He Dog when they left. “If we can get them to follow the decoys…into the trap we’ll have them right where we want them.” Crazy Horse smashed his right fist into his open left hand.
Hand nodded. It was time they did something besides run. Traveling with the women and children and all their possessions, they couldn’t lose the soldiers.
They had no way to replace their belongings and couldn’t leave them. Walking soldiers would have no trouble keeping up with them.
When the decoys made a fake attack on the enemy’s camp, they fled and acted as if the soldiers wounded several. Hand watched with the others in hiding. The walking soldiers left their camp, following the decoys. Excitement surged through Hand. Crazy Horse created a good plan, one that would work and not only kill the soldiers, get them off the Hunkpatilia’s’ back long enough for the people to get away. Many soldiers would die, soon.
The soldiers wore so much clothing that it was difficult for them to move, but they advanced. Hand kept thinking, a little farther and they’ll be in the trap, please keep coming.
Abruptly, a volley of shots from the lower section of the north rim interrupted his thoughts. In his position, he couldn’t see what happened, but knew the soldiers didn’t make it inside the trap. He Dog, who lay beside Hand, glanced at him, and shrugged. Time stood still until a runner trudged through the snow looking for Crazy Horse.
A few minutes later, Crazy Horse called everyone to a quick council. “The young Cheyenne warriors sprang the ambush…before the soldiers entered the trap.”
“Did we get any of them?” Hand asked.
“No. They’ve retreated…we didn’t kill any.”
Hand closed his eyes and shook his head. They were set up. When would the young ones learn?
“Let’s try the decoys again,” suggested Big Man.
“Won’t work again…Bear Coat won’t fall for it. We missed our chance.”
He Dog shook his head. “Like long ago when the young warriors cost us many victories.”
Hand shifted in the snow, stamping his feet. They couldn’t afford these kinds of mistakes. Too much depended on it. They’d missed their opportunity to get away. He wasn’t sure they’d have another one like this.
“What’ll we do?” another of the Cheyenne chiefs asked.
Crazy Horse didn’t respond for several minutes. Hand wished he could ask him what he thought about, but it wouldn’t do any good. His brother would answer when ready and not a second before.
Many Moons ripped his bonnet off. “What’re we going to do?”
Crazy Horse turned his head, staring at the warrior. “We won’t panic…do anything fast. We have the lives of our women and children…to think of.”
Deep frown lines creased Crazy Horse’s face as he gazed into the valley. With an audible sigh, he turned to face the warriors. “We can’t fight here…we can’t defeat them on this ground without an ambush. If we stay here…they’ll blast us with their big guns. We need to keep the high ground…till the women, children, and old ones can get away.”
He Dog asked, “Where will we go?”
“We’ll move south along the ridge…to the high hills of Belly Butte…they’ll have to cross the river and open ground…to our front to get to us. We can hold them here…for a long time till we get our people away.”
After moving to the hills overlooking Belly Butte, Hand reined his horse to a stop overlooking their back trail. They would be in a good position to hold the soldiers.
Crazy Horse pulled his horse up next to Hand. “When are the women and children leaving?” Hand asked.
“They’ll stay here until…the soldiers begin to draw closer to us. They need rest and so do the horses. I have some of the younger boys…stripping trees for bark to feed the horses.”
As they relaxed around their fires, a booming sound like thunder shook the ground. The canon’s balls began to hit. One ball exploded to the right. Snow, grass, and dirt shot into the air, and several seconds later, the deep boom reverberated amongst the Indians. It always fascinated Hand that the balls hit before he could hear them. He wasn’t worried too much about the canons. They were out of range and it would take luck for the soldiers to hit the Indians. He figured the soldiers fired to scare them.
Another explosion in front brought the women and children to the rim to watch. It became a fun time for the children, running after those that didn’t explode and lay half buried in the snow. Two boys brought one of the smaller cannon balls to Crazy Horse to look at. He laughed and thanked them. When they left, he turned to Hand. “It’s too bad we have no way to send the cannon balls back at them.”
As the snow began to fall again, soldiers crossed the river. It was funny at first, watching them slip and fall on the ice. Some fell hard—one soldier chief’s horse slipped and fell on top of him, and it took several men to
get him from underneath the animal.
As soldiers advanced closer, they fired their rifles. Crazy Horse motioned Hand and He Dog to his position. After instructions, He Dog ran to the right of the group. Crazy Horse caught Hand’s arm to stop him. “What ever happens…we have to stop them here. We can’t let the soldiers get their hands on our women.”
Hand took a deep breath and grasped Crazy Horse’s shoulder. “You can count on me.”
Hand dashed to the left, bent over, his feet sinking deep into the snow. It took all his energy to make his way through the drifts. He would rather die than let his brother down, or let the soldiers succeed. With his teeth chattering, he warned everyone, “Use the bow. Hold your fire with the rifles. Save our bullets.”
Hand stayed to the left of Crazy Horse. The soldiers advanced at a snail’s pace. He placed his hands inside his buffalo robe, hoping to get some feeling back into his fingers. This wasn’t going to be easy. Many of the Lakota looked on the soldiers with disgust, not respecting their fighting ability, but not Hand. They had defeated some, but they’d also been defeated. They couldn’t take these white’s fighting ability lightly.
Pushing through the snow and ice, the soldiers advanced on an uneven line. The middle and right part of the soldier’s line had a harder time moving than the ones on Hand’s side. His heart beat faster. His side would encounter the brunt of the attack. They had to hold.
When the soldiers on the left side trudged into bow range, Hand rose and fired an arrow. It caught a soldier in front in the chest. He stared open-mouthed as the soldier stumbled backward, righted himself, and slogged forward. Hand wanted to scream. Because the soldier had so many clothes on, his arrow didn’t penetrate enough.
Standing next to a large rock, Hand’s cheek stung as rock fragments from a bullet sprayed him. His narrow escape helped convince him to get down. Dropping, he glanced around at the other warriors. “Shoot!”
Warriors rose, fired their arrows, and dropped. Hand rubbed dirt from his eyes before rising to fire again. Bullets struck around him. Ricochets whistled by. No longer cold, he paid no attention to the weather.