by John Foxjohn
Worm spoke, “You’re our friend, Spotted Tail—please, would everyone come to my lodge.”
Hand crowded into the lodge with many others to hear what the once great Brule chief, and uncle to Crazy Horse, had to say.
“Is my nephew in camp?”
Everyone looked around for someone to speak. Hand stepped forward. “He’s not in camp, uncle.”
“I see,” Spotted Tail said. “I hoped to have a talk with that nephew of mine.”
“Would you like for us to tell him anything?” Worm asked.
“Yes, please tell him that Three-Stars has promised that if he comes in and surrenders, his people can have an agency of their own in the Powder River country.
“An agency of our own in the Powder River country?”
Conversational noises rose among the ones gathered around Spotted Tail—whispered among the ones outside the lodge.
“Yes, an agency of your own and in your own country and it’ll be run by your people where you may live in peace.”
As the talk spread, Spotted Tail was smart enough to realize that he didn’t need to say anything at that time.
Hand stepped forward and cleared his throat to speak.
Spotted Tail directed his attention to him, and all talk stopped in the lodge.
“It’s good to see you, Hand.
Do you have something you want to say?”
“Yes, uncle, I need to pass on a message from Crazy Horse.”
“You have spoken to him?”
“Yes, I spoke to him a little time ago.”
“Where is Crazy Horse, and why is he not here himself?”
“I don’t know where he is, uncle, and he didn’t tell me why he wouldn’t be here, but he did tell me to tell you that he’ll bring his people into the agency when the weather will permit it.”
Talk and whispers grew as they flowed around the people gathered inside and out of the lodge until Spotted Tail raised his hand for silence.
He looked at Hand, but spoke to everyone gathered. “It’s good that my nephew has arrived at this decision. It’s time to do so. Too many of our people have died, and there doesn’t need to be any more bloodshed.”
Crazy Horse rejoined them in camp two days after Spotted Tail left. He didn’t tell anyone where he had been, or why he had left, or why he didn’t want to speak with his uncle. He Dog and Hand spoke of this, and both believed he was ready to surrender, but out of pride, he wasn’t ready to face anyone with it yet, especially someone that he respected as much as Spotted Tail.
Early in the moon of tender grass, April, Crazy Horse called a council of the leaders. They had camped on the Pretty Fork River, close to their sacred He Sapas.
“As you know, I’ve agreed to surrender…when the weather was acceptable. It’s time to go. We’ll leave in three days…to travel to the Red Cloud Agency. I would like us to ride in…like the proud people, we are. Please understand, we…aren’t defeated…we’re just not going to fight any more. It’s time for peace. I would like for all the warriors…to ride in front, dressed in their best, as if we’re…going to battle.”
Silence like a lodge’s thick smoke hung in the air for a few minutes. He Dog broke the silence. “If you’ll permit, I’ll ride with you at the front.”
“I too will ride beside my brother,” Hand said, and Big Road and Good Weasel repeated this.
Crazy Horse nodded.
Three days later, the entire camp moved northwest toward a fate they didn’t know, but all hoped for peace and happiness. Crazy Horse sent a messenger to the Red Cloud Agency on the morning they left.
The Hunkpatilia crept long with all their possessions as scouts circled the procession in all directions to give them warning. In the late morning, the start of the Moon of green leaves, May, one of the scouts rode in to announce that a group of people rode toward them. Crazy Horse stopped the march and got the village together, and ready if they had to fight. It wasn’t long before another scout raced in to tell them that the riders were their own people led by Red Cloud.
Sitting tall in the saddle, Red Cloud, in front of his followers, awaited Crazy Horse’s arrival.
With heads held high, in their finest war garments, the Lakota rode to meet the group from the agency.
Tears trickled down Hand’s cheeks. Led by Crazy Horse, they had defeated the best the soldiers had to throw at them. He wanted to keep fighting, keep their way of life. He understood why Crazy Horse had made the decision, and he’d helped his brother decide, but he still didn’t like it.
Although his brother had said they weren’t defeated, they were.
When they first fought the soldiers, they wanted to run them out of their country. Years before, they realized they couldn’t do that. Their only hope was to hang on to their customs, their way of life, but Hand believed their way of life had led to the surrender.
Soldiers, with all the supplies they needed, didn’t need to hunt, store food for the winter, or make clothes, as the Indians did. This was the Lakotas’ weakness, and like smart warriors, the whites attacked at the Indians at their weakest point, in the winter when they couldn’t re-supply.
As he faced Red Cloud, Crazy Horse’s stone face didn’t reveal the turmoil Hand knew had to exist in his brother. Crazy Horse blamed Red Cloud for the marriage of No Water and Black Buffalo Woman, and Red Cloud had a burning resentment for Crazy Horse. The people had made Crazy Horse a shirt-wearer and ignored Red Cloud. Also, Red Cloud had always wanted to be the Lakota chief. He never would’ve been, but even though Crazy Horse didn’t think of himself as a chief, everyone else thought of him as one. This gnawed at Red Cloud like a dog chewing on an old bone. Only the whites considered Red Cloud a chief.
As they rode toward the agency, Hand glanced at Red Cloud out the corner of his eye. A little smirk outlined his lips.
He Dog, who rode next to Hand, leaned close, “Red Cloud thinks he has the upper hand, that Crazy Horse will be his slave.”
“If he does, he doesn’t know my brother.” Hand wiped his mouth and adjusted himself on the horse. Would they let Crazy Horse live in peace? Somewhere from deep within, a voice in Hand’s head said, “No. It’s time for the spirits to die.”
Twenty
The next day, the long line of people trekked within sight of the Red Cloud Agency. As he always had, Crazy Horse led. Hand, He Dog, Good Weasel, and Big Road rode behind. Everyone’s dress contrasted that of their leader. His light brown hair hung loose to his waist, the single hawk feather in his hair, the brown stone hanging below his left ear, and the hailstones painted on his body. He couldn’t have worn a war bonnet if he had wanted to—he didn’t own one.
Thousands gathered to stare, soldiers and Indians alike. Hand could hear the soldiers talking as they rode slowly by them. “Which one is Crazy Horse?”
“He must be the big one up front with all the feathers.”
“No, that can’t be him. He’s not big enough, and he’s not dressed right.”
“Look at those two white ones up front.”
One of the soldier chiefs said, “This is no surrender—they think they have won this war.”
Hand’s heart raced as they rode through the gates of the soldier fort. This experience brought back the fear and uncertainty of the first time he rode into the Lakota camp.
Crazy Horse stopped the procession and walked his horse forward to talk to the group awaiting him.
Hand choked up when chants of “Crazy Horse, Crazy Horse” flowed from the Indians gathered inside the fort. Crazy Horse sat his horse with his head down.
Red Cloud’s smirk disappeared when the soldiers strode past him to shake hands with Crazy Horse. His face became hard, and his eyes blazed with hatred as the soldiers fawned over Crazy Horse. Hand believed Red Cloud had expected them to shake his hand and thank him for bringing Crazy Horse in. He hadn’t expected the adoration from the Lakota at the fort, or the soldier chiefs. Red Cloud didn’t foresee, and wouldn’t understand, that although the white
soldiers had fought against Crazy Horse, and many of them had died, they respected him as a fellow warrior.
Calmness and peace of mind the Hunkpatilia had hoped for didn’t happen. The whites and Bad Faces left everyone alone, except Crazy Horse. The Lakota expected this from the soldiers, but they welcomed him as almost one of their own. Watching the soldier chiefs and the way they talked to Crazy Horse, treated him with deference, Hand could tell that they respected his brother, and this caused the problems—not with the whites, but from their own people.
Old jealousies and hatreds simply wouldn’t go away, and intensified. As hard as Crazy Horse tried, the Bad Faces wouldn’t leave him alone.
He and Hand, along with He Dog and Worm, spent many an hour talking about this. The soldiers promised Crazy Horse that he’d get his own agency in the Powder River country if he brought his people in, but the soldier chief wanted him to go to Washington to meet the great white chief. Crazy Horse told him he’d be glad to go to meet the Great White Father, but he wanted his people taken care of first.
Red Cloud pressured Crazy Horse not to go to Washington.
Worm told them that Red Cloud had seen how the soldiers treated Crazy Horse, and if Crazy Horse went to Washington, the Great White Father might make Crazy Horse chief of all the Indians, including Red Cloud.
Rumors began to circulate that Crazy Horse planned all sorts of things. Hand knew No Water had started the rumors that the Bad Faces spread. One of the biggest rumors circulating was that Crazy Horse planned to take his people off the agency and fight again. One of the officers told Crazy Horse that this was silly. He couldn’t take his people off the agency and fight with no horses, guns, or weapons? But many began to watch Crazy Horse.
Idolization heaped on Crazy Horse bothered Red Cloud more than anything did. Many of the Lakota thought of him almost as a savior. Older women remembered his generosity. He’d never kept anything for himself except for weapons. Horses, food, robes, and other material things he had given away to the people who needed them, and this is something they refused to forget. Also, the young people of the Lakota idolized Crazy Horse. They walked and ran around the agency and fort with their hair flowing unbraided and a single feather in their hair like their hero, and this drove the Bad Faces almost crazy with jealousy.
To make matters worse, The Nez Perce, pronounced nay per-SAY, left their reservation, and the army put great pressure on Crazy Horse to lead a group to act as scouts for the army to track these Indians down. Crazy Horse didn’t want to.
As time went on, problems continued to grow. One of No Water’s friends told General Crook’s aide that Crazy Horse planned to kill the general. He said he’d overheard a Crazy Horse plan to shake the general’s hand, and then stab him with a hidden knife.
These rumors and the way the Bad Faces acted, frustrated not only Crazy Horse, but the ones close to him. They’d come to the agency in peace, and wanted to be left alone as promised, but no one would leave them in peace. Hand’s brother hadn’t done or said one thing out of line, yet the Bad Faces and soldiers hounded him from all sides with rumors and finger pointing.
As they sat by the fire late the night Three-Stars had cancelled his meeting with Crazy Horse, a Cheyenne woman named Yellow Woman scratched on the lodge, and entered when Worm gave permission.
In a sad voice, Worm asked her, “What brings you out at this time of night?”
She hesitated for a moment. “I came because long ago, Crazy Horse as a boy saved my life. I overheard a conversation with Three-Stars and Red Cloud.” She hesitated. “The Bad Faces want him to arrest Crazy Horse.”
“Why does he want…me arrested?”
“He said you caused trouble.”
Anguish and confusion crept over Crazy Horse’s face. “I haven’t done anything. Why won’t they leave me alone?”
Silence around the fire showed that no one knew what to say, or could explain it. Yellow Woman left with a nod of thanks from Crazy Horse.
“What should I do?” Crazy Horse asked.
Worm finally spoke. “I don’t think you’re going to ever have any peace here with the Bad Faces. Maybe it would be best if you went to your uncle’s agency.”
Crazy Horse, who had stared into the fire, glanced up when his father spoke. “I think you’re right. I should go…before they try to arrest me, because I’m not going to allow them to chain me…like their animals and put me in the little room…when I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll die first. I’ll take my wife and a couple of horses…and leave. I can get out without them knowing I’m gone.
Worm nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
“I’m going with you,” Hand said.
“I’m going with you too,” He Dog said.
“No. I’ll take Hand with me, but you…have your wife and children to think of.”
He Dog started to say something, but Crazy Horse interrupted him. “This may not go well for us. Please do me the favor…and take care of your family. If something happens to me, there must…be someone to take care of our people.”
Tears trickled down Hand’s face. He had a bad feeling about all of this, a sense of foreboding. It wasn’t something he could have explained.
“Hand, get what you want…to take, and meet me here.”
When Hand returned, Crazy Horse and Black Shawl waited, and they didn’t have much either. He Dog surprised them when they arrived at the horse herd. He waited with three horses ready to go. After walking and leading the horses for a long time, they mounted up when they thought they’d gone far enough so no one would hear them.
After a long night’s ride, they arrived at the Spotted Tail agency. Spotted Tail and Touch the Clouds, the seven-foot Miniconjou chief, walked out to greet them.
The greeting from Spotted Tail wasn’t what Hand expected. After all, Crazy Horse was his nephew and the Brule Chief helped talk Crazy Horse into surrendering.
“We never have problems at his agency,” Spotted Tail told them in an edgy, stressed voice. “I’m the chief here, and all the people at this agency obey me. If you live at my agency, you must listen to me, and my people. We keep the peace, and everyone that comes here must obey me.”
They spent the night with Spotted Tail. Early the next morning a group led by No Water rode in. They wanted to arrest Crazy Horse, but Spotted Tail wouldn’t let them, and they left angry. They found out the next day that the white man would have paid No Water a lot of money if they’d taken Crazy Horse back to the Red Cloud agency.
That night in Spotted Tail’s lodge, they talked for a long time. Touch the Clouds joined them, as well as an army officer and the local agent. Crazy Horse told them the problems at the Red Cloud agency, and all the rumors started by his enemies, the Bad Faces.
The Army officer promised Crazy Horse if he returned to the Red Cloud agency he’d get a chance to tell his story to the officials there, including General Crook, but he’d have to go back to his own agency before they’d allow him to return to the Spotted Tail agency.
Crazy Horse turned to Hand. “What do you think?”
Hand, who had said little in this process, paused for a long moment. “I don’t feel good about this. You are in danger here.”
“Nothing will happen to my nephew,” Spotted Tail said. “I’m going back with him to make sure.”
“I’m going, too,” Touch The Clouds said. “We’ll make sure no harm comes to him.”
After Crazy Horse agreed to go back, Hand lay in his robes awake a long time. He believed Spotted Tail meant what he said, but they didn’t know the depth of jealousy and hatred in the Bad Faces’ hearts. It didn’t matter if Crazy Horse lived with Spotted Tail or at Red Clouds’ agency, the soldiers could make him the chief of all the Lakota. Red Cloud could not let that happen.
Why couldn’t they live as they once had?
A dreary overcast morning greeted them as they rode away from the Spotted Tail agency. Hand glanced skyward. The sun, attempting to shine, made the clouds look almost black. H
e hoped it wasn’t an omen, but knew it was.
Spotted Tail and Touch the Clouds kept their word, and rode on either side of Crazy Horse, and Spotted Tail’s warriors followed.
Word had spread of their return, and when they arrived at the Red Cloud Agency, thousands of people gathered. He Dog met them outside the agency. “Be careful,” he told Crazy Horse. “You’re among your enemies here, and there’s great danger here for you.”
“I’ll be careful. I’ve come to talk to Three-Stars. I’m moving…to the Spotted Tail Agency to get away from the Bad Faces…who want to cause me harm.”
Lieutenant Lee, Spotted Tail, and Touch the Clouds went to the commander’s office while Hand and Crazy Horse waited. Black Shawl had stayed behind at the Spotted Tail agency.
An oppressed silence hung in the air like thick smoke on a damp, cold morning. After a long wait, they dismounted.
“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” Hand asked Crazy Horse.
“I don’t know, but they’ve…been in there too long. And that can’t be good.”
Four of the agency police came, caught Crazy Horse by the arms, and started to lead him away.
Nothing made sense to Hand. “Wait! Where are you going with him?”
Crazy Horse spoke over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, Hand, they’re taking me to see the Colonel.”
Hand’s fists balled. No. This wasn’t right. They wouldn’t send four to take him to the colonel. Besides, they headed toward the guardhouse. His stomach knotted. “Crazy Horse! They aren’t taking you to see the officer—they’re taking you to their little cage.”
Crazy Horse stopped, looked around, and struggled to break away. “I’ve done nothing. Why are you taking me to your cage?”
Hand sprinted to help, but as he neared the struggle, someone grabbed him from behind. He shrugged them off. He had to help Crazy Horse. Someone else grabbed him, and another. He fought and broke loose, but something slammed into the back of his head. Everything went black for a moment. He had a sensation of falling in a daze, hitting the ground on his face.