Two nights ago they had begun closing the first of the two pincers around Crazy Horse, when he sent a pair of his friends to carry word of his dismay to the new agent and the wasicu from the east. That first prong of their two-part plan had been set into motion quite handily: convincing the white man that Crazy Horse had not changed at all when he surrendered at the agency, easily convincing the wasicus that if allowed to go hunting in the Powder River country the war chief and his people would never return to the White Earth River … and might well ignite a new war against the white man.
Now they were preparing to start closing the second of the two pincers on Crazy Horse in their shadowy plan to assure that Red Cloud—and Red Cloud only—would hold the real power here on his agency. All three had reason to smile as they watched the two riders enter the shady stand of trees just below them. It was sure to be another hot day. Better to wait here in the cool shadows … where no one would have any idea that Woman’s Dress was bringing Long Joe Laravie to meet with Red Cloud.
Letting his chest swell with his own sense of indignation, Red Cloud knew that he was the one and only chief of his people. Not Spotted Tail of the Sicangu, raised above Red Cloud by Three Stars. And surely not Crazy Horse! When Woman’s Dress was sent to the French trader that morning, Laravie would have jumped at a chance to have a private audience with Red Cloud, even though he wouldn’t have the least idea what they were to discuss. Only that Red Cloud could not be seen publicly talking to the trader … at least if he and his friends wanted to make sure it never appeared that Red Cloud had anything to do with their maneuvers to undo Crazy Horse from even the bottommost rungs of power on this reservation.
He watched how Laravie’s suspicious eyes tapped the other two men, then came to rest on him as the pair of horsemen came to a halt, then quickly dismounted and tied off their ponies in the pines near the other three.
“You speak good Lakota?” Red Cloud asked the trader.
His head bobbed, and so did his prominent Adam’s apple. “Good enough my wife understands me,” he answered with that low creek frog of a voice.
“Come, sit,” he instructed, turning sideways and indicating the buffalo robe stretched out in the shade. “We will have us a little smoke … then talk of important matters.”
Perhaps it was because Long Joe was a white man, but he appeared impatient during the filling and ceremonial smoking of Red Cloud’s pipe while the five of them sat at the outer edge of that buffalo robe.
“You have three daughters,” Red Cloud declared when the pipe went out and the tobacco in the bowl had turned to ash.
“You want a new wife, eh?” Laravie replied, grinning toothily as if immensely proud of himself for catching onto Red Cloud’s intent. “That would make me your father-in-law.”
“No, not for me,” the chief answered, watching how quickly the man’s smile disappeared.
“So … why do you ask about my daughters?”
“There is one, I think she is your second—”
“Helen,” Laravie interrupted, his eyes narrowing with a father’s concern.
“Heh-lawn,” Red Cloud mimicked the sounds Long Joe had made to declare the young woman’s name.
Nodding once, the Frenchman said, “But around the trading post and agency, she’s known to the wasicus as Nellie.”
“Nell-eee?”
“Yes, Nellie. You asked me here to talk about her?”
Red Cloud pushed a loose strand of hair from his eye. “Has any man come to speak for her?”
Laravie quickly glanced at the other three Bad Face leaders; then his eyes came back to Red Cloud. “No. No one has come to ask for her in marriage. One of these two want a wife?” he asked, indicating Red Dog and No Water, but not pointing out the winkte, who clearly had the special woman-man medicine. “I know each of them already have their own wives—”
“Not for them,” it was Red Cloud’s turn to interrupt. “But it is true that the husband we have picked out for your second daughter already does have a first wife.”
“Who is this man?”
Red Cloud took a long breath, his face a study in composure. “He is not a wealthy man. So he will not have much to give you for your daughter.”
“Oh? Then tell me why should I be interested in marrying my daughter to a poor man?”
“Because we can make it worth your while,” Red Cloud said with a knowing grin.
“I’m a trader! That means I have my own wealth already,” Long Joe argued. “There isn’t much that you could offer me that I don’t already possess!”
“We can offer you horses.”
“Yes, horses,” Joe responded, less cocky now. “Horses … are a good thing.”
“But … at first, the new husband for your second daughter would only be able to give his new wife’s father two ponies.”
“T-two?” Laravie squeaked an octave higher. Then his face grew red as he began to bluster, “Any daughter of mine is worth far more than two ponies!”
Red Cloud let the Frenchman spew a few more moments. By all rights he should remind the trader who he was dealing with. After all, he was the only Lakota who had ever won a war against the wasicus and their army! He was the only chief—all the way from the land of the brown ones in the south clear up to the land of the Grandmother in the far north—who had made the soldiers retreat and abandon their attempt to take the hunting grounds between the Powder and the Bighorn rivers away from the Lakota! Now here this small-time trader was trying to tell Red Cloud the number of horses he wanted for his daughter in this arranged marriage?
“Perhaps you should talk to one of the other fathers, a half-breed maybe, someone who hangs around the agency,” Laravie bluffed. “Like Pourier or Garnier … either one. You can marry one of their daughters to this poor man who cannot afford a decent dowry—”
“His name is Crazy Horse,” Red Cloud said quietly.
Laravie almost choked on that revelation. “C-crazy Horse? The Northern chief?”
He only nodded, enjoying how that both perplexed and pleased the white man at the same time.
It was a moment before the trader spoke again, asking, “You want me to give my daughter … t-to Crazy Horse?”
With a grin, Red Cloud said, “Haven’t you seen how they look at one another when he comes to the agency?”
“Y-yes, I have seen—”
“And haven’t you heard talk of the way Crazy Horse looks at her when she comes with the white healer to visit Black Shawl, Crazy Horse’s first wife?”
Licking his lips with the pink tip of his tongue, the wide-eyed Frenchman asked, “So he is a great chief … but all he can afford for Helen is two ponies?”
“That is what we can arrange for him to give you for the time being,” No Water answered for his chief. “But when we are assured that Crazy Horse changes his mind about going east to see the wasicu grandfather … there will be much more in this for you, Long Joe Laravie.”
The trader squinted an eye mercenarily, asking, “How much?”
Red Cloud leaned toward the white man a little, saying, “The White Hat wants me to tell you that I can promise you something good.”
“What does he say you can promise me?”
“If things come out right, the White Hat wants you to know you will be well paid.”
“H-how much?”
Wearing a big smile now, Red Cloud answered, “No telling how many horses a man might eventually get for marrying his daughter off to the famous fighter named Crazy Horse … once Crazy Horse is convinced it is not safe for him to go to east this coming autumn.”
“So, if I understand you right,” Laravie rubbed his palms down the thighs of his canvas britches there at the edge of the buffalo robe in these shadows of the fragrant pines, “if I allow my daughter to become Crazy Horse’s second wife … and if I get her to talk Crazy Horse into changing his mind about going east with you, then there will be much more wealth in it for me?”
Red Cloud turned and nodded to hi
s friends, self-satisfied that he had played the white man perfectly. “See? I told you Long Joe Laravie was a smart trader!”
The white man demanded, “How many horses?”
Again he leaned toward the Frenchman meaningfully, and said, “How many is your daughter worth?”
With a half-grin, the trader appeared to grow cagey. “How many horses do you think the second wife of this Northern chief will be worth to you? Especially … when she will use all her charms to get Crazy Horse to change his mind and refuse to go east with White Hat and Three Stars?”
Wagging his head slightly, Red Cloud got a dour look on his face. “Ah, but the agent and the soldiers have taken so many of our horses already, don’t you understand?”
“W-wait a minute here,” Joe stammered. “Are you taking back your offer already?”
“No, we just don’t own so many horses as we used to,” Woman’s Dress argued, brushing dust off of one leg of those blue wool leggings decorated with their shiny silver buttons.
“How m-many will you give me when Crazy Horse refuses to go east with you and White Hat?”
Red Cloud regarded that question a moment; then he answered by asking, “What is Nell-eee worth to her father?”
“My prettiest daughter?” he retorted, leaning back as if insulted. Then quickly Laravie rocked forward, his elbows on his knees, and studied Red Cloud’s face intently. “Three-times-ten and not one horse less—”
“This woman is not marrying Red Cloud!” No Water fumed. “Crazy Horse is no high chief of the Oglala!”
“Ten horses,” Woman’s Dress proposed. “Not one horse more!”
The trader regarded that for a long moment. “Make it two-times-ten, and we have ourselves a deal.”
Red Cloud held out both of his hands. “Ten horses, Long Joe. Ten, plus the two from Crazy Horse.”
“All … all right. Ten plus the two … in trade for my pretty Nellie.”
Red Cloud raised his right hand, fingers spread apart and held a few short inches from the trader’s face. “Two from Crazy Horse when she goes to live in his lodge. Five more my friend, Red Dog, will bring to tie at the back of your store that same day.”
Laravie turned his eyes to look at Red Dog, asking, “So what about the other five horses you will owe me?”
“Those five…” said Red Cloud, pausing. “No Water and Woman’s Dress will bring you the five best horses from my own herd when Crazy Horse has informed the White Hat that he refuses to go anywhere his new wife does not want him to go.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Wasutun Wi
MOON WHEN ALL THINGS RIPEN, 1877
“Have seen how your eyes speak to hers, my friend,” He Dog said to Crazy Horse that warm summer night after the stars had come out in a fiery bloom.
“Why do you talk of another woman here at my home?” Crazy Horse whispered low, his eyes flicking from the face of his old friend to the faces of the others who had gathered with him beneath the rustle of the cottonwood leaves.
All of them were friends; most had charged into battle with him. All were Oglala except the White Hat, the little chief of the soldiers, who had joined their circle for what he explained was an important discussion.
Crazy looked again at He Dog. “My wife is Black Shawl. What if she should hear you speaking of another woman in this manner?”
“This is meant to honor you,” Young Man Afraid explained while the half-blood interpreter went on whispering at White Hat’s shoulder, busy translating without interruption. The famed Lakota diplomat gave a long disapproving look at the soldier chief sitting among them, then continued, “Since the agent decided against you hosting the feast, we have been considering how we could honor you for the courage you showed to bring in the Northern People to the reservation.”
“More and more I hear whispers of bad talk against me,” Crazy Horse said.
He Dog said, “Just silly talk. From people who should not matter to us.”
“If Red Cloud’s friends do not want me around, perhaps I should go live with my uncle at his agency,” Crazy Horse declared stubbornly. “When I live there I won’t have to listen to the chattering of so many magpies who have nothing else to do but to spread their bad stories about me.”
“You can’t go to Spotted Tail’s agency,” Billy Garnett said nervously, translating what the White Hat had instructed him to say.
Crazy Horse turned to the white man and his interpreter. “Why can’t I go where my father lives?”
“This is your new home.”
The war chief blinked a few times, considering his answer. “My home is wherever I have relatives. Spotted Tail is my uncle. I think I would find more peace living somewhere close to Beaver Mountain.”
“White Hat says I should remind Crazy Horse that he has relatives right here among his own Oglala people,” Garnett said unsurely.
“My friend,” He Dog explained to the chief, “the White Hat did not come here to listen to you talk about leaving to go live with your uncle at his agency. He and our friend, Young Man Afraid, came to smoke with us and talk about how we can honor you.”
“The wasicus want to plan another feast for me, then take it away again?”
For a moment, He Dog and Young Man Afraid exchanged weary glances. He Dog said, “No. They came to talk of plans to honor you with another wife.”
Crazy Horse took in a deep breath as his eyes looked around. He Dog was sure he was looking for some sign, perhaps a sound, something to tell him of Black Shawl’s proximity to this informal gathering and a smoke among old friends.
“Another wife,” Crazy Horse repeated finally, his voice more subdued than it had been. “This is why you asked me about the trader’s daughter.”
“A great leader such as you should be honored,” Young Man Afraid explained as Garnett went back to translating at White Hat’s ear. “The little chief of the soldiers, and your friends, we have talked about this before we came to you with our question.”
“Whose idea is this?” Crazy Horse asked, turning back to He Dog. “Is it yours?”
“No,” he admitted. “The White Hat thought you would be honored with a young, pretty wife.”
Looking at White Hat a moment, Crazy Horse finally asked the little chief, “Why another wife?”
The White Hat waited while Billy Garnett translated, then spoke to the interpreter. His answer was, “A feast will fill your belly for only one night. I thought a new wife would last a long, long time. And make your life happier here at the agency.”
“Young Man Afraid and I,” said He Dog, “we know how Black Shawl has been ill for a long time with her lung sickness—”
“She is getting a little stronger every day,” Crazy Horse interrupted him, rubbing the redstone bowl of his small pipe between his palms.
“We thought another, younger wife would not only make you happier,” He Dog professed, “she would be a great help to Black Shawl in your lodge.”
They watched Crazy Horse stare at the small personal pipe held between his hands, studying the weighty proposition they had just laid in his lap. Even the half-blood translator was silent now, everyone waiting.
“She speaks the wasicu tongue very good,” Crazy Horse commented without looking up from his hands.
“Yes,” He Dog said softly. “And she is very pretty.”
Young Man Afraid joined the refrain, “Very, very pretty.”
Now Crazy Horse looked up, a smile in his eyes. “She is very pretty, yes.”
He Dog reiterated, “Think of how good it will be if Black Shawl does not have to work so hard.”
With a sigh, Crazy Horse asked, “What does the young woman know of this?”
“The trader has agreed,” Young Man Afraid declared. “Long Joe Laravie says he is honored to have his daughter marry you.”
“But … what does he expect from me in payment for her?” Crazy Horse asked. “He is married to a Shahiyela woman, so he will expect some gifts from me.”
He D
og said, “Laravie does not expect that much—”
“Surely Laravie knows I am a poor man,” Crazy Horse averred. “I have my clothing and my pipe.” He held it up briefly, making certain White Hat understood the half-blood’s translation. “But I no longer have many horses, and I no longer have my weapons. A warrior always had his weapons.”
White Hat made some quick gestures to Young Man Afraid, holding up two fingers on one hand, then moved those two fingers across the palm of the other hand.
“Just two horses,” Young Man Afraid stated. “That’s all Long Joe says he will take for his second daughter.”
Surprise came over the war chief’s face. “He is a rich man, is he not? Isn’t he wealthy by the standards of the wasicu?”
“Yes,” He Dog replied. “But he told the White Hat that he does not have need of anything. He has all the blankets and beads and finery any man like him could ever want, so Laravie told the White Hat that he needed nothing more from you than the two horses.”
“You have two horses to spare, my friend,” Young Man Afraid said. “And if you do not have any that you will let go, I have two horses to give in your stead. I would be honored if you would allow me to present them to the trader on your behalf.”
“Or you can have two of my horses too,” Little Big Man spoke up for the first time, his full face animated with excitement. “If this new wife will make my long-time friend happy here in his new life … then I will give away all the horses that I call my own!”
“You are a metalbreast now,” Crazy Horse said. “Wearing the soldier coat and the wasicu badge. Akicita like you will always have the best horses, won’t you?”
“I wish only to honor my good friend,” Little Big Man protested. “We rode many trails together, raiding for horses and scalps—Psatoka, Susuni, fighting wasicu too. I am happy as an akicita here, walking a new road, Crazy Horse. So I want to do all I can to make your heart happy too.”
“Do you like her, nephew?” asked Little Hawk, leaning toward the war chief.
Turn the Stars Upside Down: The Last Days and Tragic Death of Crazy Horse Page 17