by Conn, Phoebe
Erica felt deeply troubled that the ugliness of war might soon touch so tranquil a setting. When a little red-haired girl handed her an apple she whisp)ered a strained, "Thank you," and slipped it into her pocket for later. Feeding everyone would be an immense problem, she knew, but she doubted any of them would have much appetite.
"How could it have come to this?" Britta asked her companions, but they all shared her shock and looked as helpless as she to explain the sudden outbreak of violence.
"The Indians were pushed too far," Erica finally responded when no one else spoke up. "They've been treated unfairly all along, but they should not have been expected to wait forever for their yearly payment of food and money."
The little redhead's mother, a buxom woman in a faded
green dress, tcx)k immediate exception to that remark. "You aren't taking their side, are you?"
When Erica turned to reply, she found every eye in the room was focused squarely upon her. None of the glances were friendly, either. Clearly this was not a group who wanted to discuss causes of the uprising in dispassionate terms. They were all too close. It was their farms that were being threatened, their neighbors who were being murdered. Feeling curiously detached from the other women's plight, she continued. "Certainly not," she assured the woman calmly. "Whatever has caused the uprising, I'm not condonin|f it. A war is rightly fought between opposing armies on a battlefiel(C not by unwarranted attacks upon helpless civilians." When that reassurance satisfied the group that she was not defending the Indians' actions after all, the conversation turned to more practical considerations such as feeding the children. Relieved to no longer be the center of attention. Erica decided she would be wise to keep her opinions to herself in the future.
She wasn't certain what had prompted her to mention the Sioux's grievances, although it had been her uncle, not Viper, who had explained them to her. Her comments had surprised her nearly as much as they had her companions, ana she had swifdy learned she would have to be more careful to keep her thoughts to herself in the future. She had never been the secretive type until she had come to New Ulm, and the effort to keep so many things hidden was hurting her conscience badly.
As she remained at the window watching for the danger she prayed would not appear, she recalled the bitterness of Viper's expression when she had bid him good-bye. Did he ever think of her with any emotion except hatred? Whatever part he might be playing in the upnsine, if he came to New Ulm would he look for her? That she had no idea whether he would want her dead or very much alive was so frightening that she shivered with dread and turned away from the window.
"I should have brought the quilt I've been working on," Britta remarked absently. The afternoon was warm, and simply waiting for the Indians to attack the town while her apprehension rose to paralyzing heights struck Erica as the very worst of pastimes.
When her aunt's comment provided an excuse to leave
the crowded hotel, Erica immediately took it. She knelt down beside Britta and whispered softly, "There's not an Indian in si^ht. I'm sure I could run home and get the quilt. Anythmg else you'd like to have?"
"Oh no. I can't ask you to go out on such a foolish errand." Britta was embarrassed even to have mentioned the quilt now.
"I won't begone more than ten minutes. Now just tell me what to bring and I'll go and get it," the lively blonde insisted. "It will help us all to have something to do."
Britta chewed her lower lip nervously, not wanting to put her niece at risk merely to ease her own boredom. "Are you sure there's no sign of Indians as yet?"
"Positive," Erica swore convincingly.
"Well then, I would like to work on the quilt. You know where I keep my sewing. You ought to bring back what food you can carry, too; that new cheese would be good."
Erica patted her aunt's hands, thinking as she had so many times that Britta and her mother were very much alike. Her mother had been lovely, but she had never been given io deep introspection on any subject. Erica had learned at an early age that if she wanted sensible answers to her questions she would have to ask her father, for she had quickly surpassed her mother's store of knowledge. Now here they were, in the very real danger of being murdered by Indians, and Britta wanted to do a bit of quilting. Her reasons for volunteering to go home were far different, however. Erica had suddenly decided she wanted the daw Viper had given her, for surely this was the perfect time to rely upon the value of a good luck charm provided by an Indian. If it would work any magic at all, then she wanted to have it handy.
Certain her brief absence would not be missed. Erica sped out the back door of the Dacotah House. But before she had taken five paces Gunter grabbed her arm, stopping her in midstride. "Just where do you think you're going?" he asked, as though he had some right to know.
Erica was too embarrassed to admit the truth, so she made up a convenient lie. "We need something for the little ones to eat. I'm on my way to our house to pick up some food."
Gunter frowned slightly, then, after finding no threat in any direction, he decided to go with her. "I'm getting
hungry myself. Fll go with you just in case there's trouble."
Rather than argue that he was unarmed and would be of little value should trouble in the form of hostile Indians overtake them, Erica accepted his company as unavoidable. "Let's hurry." She had to take two steps to each one of his, but once they reached their house she left him iri the kitchen while she dashed upstairs. The claw lay right where she had left it in the bottom of her stationery box. That day its wicked tip looked even more fearsome than she had recalled, but she hurriedly shoved it into her pocket. Then on an impulse she scooped up the little carving of a cougar Gunter had made for her and dropped it into her pocket, too, thinking she could use some of the animal's fierce spirit as much as an Indian brave.
After making himself a generous sandwich, Gunter had put bread, cheese, and a ham in a basket while Erica had been upstairs. When he saw her carrying the fabric satchel containing his mother's sewing, it didn't occur to him that she had said she was coming to get food. "Let's go. We don't want to be caught alone here in the house." Yet as she slid past him to go out the door, the subtle fragrance that clung to Erica's clothes teased his senses so seductively that he suddenly wished there were some way for them to remain alone there together.
As they raced back into town. Erica had no idea her cousin's thoughts were focused upon her. She kept looking at the bluff behind them, thinking it provided perfect cover for an attack. "This is an awful mess, isn't it, Gunter? I never realized what the people in the South are going through with battles raging all around them."
Gunter dared not admit how little that prospect frightened him, that he had been so caught up in the excitement of preparing for an attack that he had had no time to be afraid. "Henry Behnke has already gone to get help from St. Peter and the other towns nearby. I think we'll be able to gather enough men to come out of this all right."
"Oh, so do II" Erica agreed optimistically. "Just see you don't take any chances."
That she seemed truly worried about him pleased Gunter enormously. "I won't," he promised. When they reached the hotel, he carried the basket of food inside, then
went back to work on the barricades.
As long as they had li^ht, the women sharing the corner room with Britta and Erica joined in working on the quilt. When the hour grew late, none found it easy to sleep.
While the citizens of New Ulm frantically gathered their meager resources to defend their city, the situation that Monday was no less desperate at Fort Ridgely. Lieutenant Gere, the nineteen-year-old left in command by Captain Marsh, was ill with the mumps. Although it was a military outpost built to house army troops near the Sioux reservation, the fort had no stockade. It was a collection of detached buildings: a two-story stone barracks, a commissary, frame quarters for officers, the commandant, and post surgeon, a log hospital and log houses for civilians, and numerous other buildings with varying purposes. The main struct
ures were grouped around a parade ground on open terrain, making them nearly impossible to defend. Deep ravines cut into the prairie on the east, north, and southwest, providing easy access for the Indians.
Around noon, when settlers seeking protection from the Indians were just beginning to reach the fort, a stagecoach carrying $71,000 in gold, the money the government owed the Sioux, arrived. Gere had the kegs of gold hidden, since, tragically, they had arrived one day too Tate to forestall the uprising.
The population of the fort had grown by more than two hundred with the influx of refugees by the time the first of Marsh's troops returned with the news of his tra^c death. Lieutenant Gere then sent another dispatch to Lieutenant Sheehan entreating him to hurry his return. He also sent a rider to notify the commanding officer at Fort Snelling and Governor Alexander Ramsey, alerting them to their dire situation and requesting immediate reinforcements. While carrying that message. Private William J. Sturgis passed through the town of St Peter, and finding the Indian Agent, Thomas J. Galbraith, there with his newly recruited Renville Rangers, sent them back to help out at the fort.
Had the Indians gone from the Lower Agency directly to Fort Ridgely, they would surely have taken it on
August 18. Fortunately for the few army personnel in residence, and for those others who had taken refuge there, the Indians paused first to celebrate their victories. When Little Crow and his braves drew near the fort on Tuesday morning, August 19, the chief, along with Mankato and Big Eagle, urged an immediate attack upon the fort. Many of the younger men had another goal, however, and wished to attack New Ulm, where there would be stores to loot and pretty young women to capture. While the Indians argued. Lieutenant Sheehan and his men arrived at the fort followed by Galbraith and his fifty Rangers. The beleaguered fort then had a hundred eighty men to defend it.
Viper coul not believe there were men among his friends who were more concerned with gathering spoils than with dealing the United States Army another stunning defeat. 'Tort Ridgely is the most natural target," he argued persuasively. "It is the army who enforces the government's policies, and it is the army who deserves to suffer, not the fat shopkeepers of New Ulml"
Growling Bear was not convinced. "If I am going to fight, it is my right to say where!"
Viper shook his head, for he could see the futility of arguing with so stubborn a man. Unlike army Droops, Indian braves were not compelled to follow their leaders. They kept their independence at all times, even in the heat of battle. They might follow a respected chief on one day and not on another if they so chose. No man criticized another's actions, for all believed each man was accountable only to himself. How could one man hope to change the tradition of centuries? Viper wondered. "Look," he finally pointed out, "if we are going to sweep the white man from Minnesota, then we must destroy each army outpost on our soil. If we attack in full force we can take Fort Ridgely as easily as we did the agency, but we cannot fight halfa dozen battles up and down the river until each man has stolen whatever booty he wants and goes home!"
"What is the point of fighting if I do not get what I want?' Growling Bear conanued.
"What you want is not important," Viper insisted once again. "All that matters is that we defeat the army again today. Now, before reinforcements can arrivel" The Indian knew he was right. He knew what he was saying
was the truth, and he was also wise enough to see his friends would never grasp the importance of a quick strike with deadly force. "We are not counting coup here, Growling Bear. No one will award you eagle feathers for touching a trooper. Instead, you must kill him. All that matters is that we take the fort so that the arms stored there can't be used against us."
Growling Bear would readily admit that Viper was far more eloquent than he. Tradition, however, did not demand that he persuade others to his cause with brave speeches, and he made no attempt to do so. "I will do what I think best, and you are free to follow your own conscience. Viper. That is as it should be."
"Not in a war, if we are to have any hope of winning!" Viper cried out in frustration.
That response amazed Growling Bear, and he shook his head sadly. "We have never had any chance of winning. Our only hope is to take what we can. That is what I mean to do."
Viper watched Hunted Stag follow Growling Bear as he walked away before turning to Two Elk. "Well, what about you? Are you going to stay here to attack the fort with Little Crow, or do you want to join the others headed for New Ulm?"
Two Elk was torn by indecision. He wanted the things he knew they could take from the prosperous town, but he also wanted to keep his best friend's res|:>ect. In the end, it was that desire that proved to be the stronger. "I will fight by your side," he announced calmly, and his heart filled with pride when Viper rewarded him with a grateful smile.
While neither his expression or his words showed it, Viper was also facing a painful dilemma. He truly believed, as Little Crow did, that striking the fort was imperative. He also had a better reason to go to New Ulm than any of the other braves, since he knew a woman there well worth taking captive. If he went with the group heading down the river, no one would criticize him for it, but he was not a man who put his desires before his ideals. As he walked slowly around the camp, he overheard at least a dozen repetitions of the same argument he had had with his friends. When finally the younger braves broke off from the others, he was p>ositive their cause was
doomed to fail. There were too few going to New Ulm to put the city in any real danger, and with no chief to lead them, they would be unlikely to plot a clever enough strategy to succeed.
When the small force of Sioux attacked New Ulm on the afternoon of Au^st 19, they took cover on the bluff overlooking the city and began firing from well-protected positions. The newly organized militia, their number augmented by men from St. Peter, bravely held their own, although some had to leave the security of the barricades to drive back the attacking force. When a thunderstorm struck late in the day and the Indians withdrew, the citizen soldiers felt a substantial victory was theirs. That some of the houses at the northern end of town had been burned did not seem a great loss, except to the owners.
That night another one hundred twenty-five men. Frontier Guards from St. Peter and Le Sueur, reached New Ulm. With them were three physicians. When Dr. William W. Mayo of Le Sueur and William R. McMahan of Mankato chose one of the front rooms of the Dacotah House as a hospital. Erica quickly introduced herself and volunteered to help them.
"My father is a physician," she explained proudly. "I often helped him in emergencies, and since there are wounded to tend, I'd like to help you see to them." She knew she could be of real service, and the activity would keep her mind from dwelling on what she feared would be an mevitable confrontation with Viper.
Dr. Mayo glanced over at his newly acquired partner. The young woman's smile was so utterly charming he saw no reason not to grant her request, and he could tell from Dr. McMahan's appreciative glance that he agreed. "We're delighted to have your help, Miss Hanson. Why don't you see if there are any other women without small children to tend who would also be willing to act as nurses? There were five wounded this afternoon, and that's far too many for one young woman to tend."
"I'll go and ask right now," Erica agreed, but while she found two ladies who reluctantly volunteered to help watch over the wounded men, they were so squeamish a
pair that she knew should the doctors have to perform any surgery, she would have to be the one to assist them.
There had been six fatalities that day, one of them a thirteen-year-old girl who had foolishly dashed out into the street in the midst of the battle. Erica felt Emilie's death had been senseless. She could not help but wonder if the girl had merely been hit by a stray buflet or if some brave had deliberately aimed for her. From the tales she had heard from the settlers who had fled their farms, the Indians had no qualms about killing women and children. That was so despicable a practice it sickened her thoroughly.
Unfortunatel
y, Erica found that having useful work to do did not stop her from worrying. While enough armed men had been gathered to defend the town from the first attack, how would they fare if the Sioux returned again and again? Would the town eventually be overrun despite their best efforts to prevent such a crushing defeat? Tliey were relying upon the men to protect them now, but what if so many men were wounded or killed that the women had to protect themselves? Would she be able to pick up a rifle and shoot an Indian if her life depended upon it? Perhaps the Sioux's hatred of whites had real justification, but she had no reason to despise Indians, although the violence of their actions terrified her. Would fear be a strong enough motivation to inspire her to pull the trigger? With a shudder of dread she realized those were not questions she wanted answered.
Her head aching from the turbulence of her fears. Erica remained awake all night, seated at the bedside of the most seriously injured man. Late that afternoon sixteen men had left the city to scout the farms along the Cottonwood River hoping to gather intelligence as well as to rescue survivors. Upon their return they had met with disaster when eleven of their number were slain in an ambush just outside of town. Erica knew they couldn't afford to lose any men, let alone nearly a dozen. She didn't even know how to fire a gun, but she couldn't shake the horrible premonition that she was going to have to learn, and fast. That her target would undoubtedly be Viper only added to her fright.
Viper found it difficult to hide his smile as the braves who had been defeated at New Ulm returned empty-handed to Little Crow's camp. None wished to discuss their failed expedition, but they were now ready to join in the attack planned for the next day at Fort Ridgely, without argument.