Bittersweet Ecstasy

by Taylor, Janelle

  “What happened to the white girl?” Smith asked suddenly.

  “Rumor said she married the Eagle’s son, then they got rid of her. Name was Rebecca Kenny. Sure would like to meet me a woman like that,” Clint murmured dreamily. “Then I wouldn’t be single long.”

  Smith sighed heavily and sank into deep thought, from which Clint withdrew him. “Right after them mappers, Lewis and Clark, came through, people started heading this way. More of ‘em after the war ended in ‘15. The more which comes, the more the Sioux gets riled. If’n I was President Monroe, I would be real careful out here.”

  “Why should we? We own this damn land, paid enough for it.”

  Clint laughed and shook his head. “It weren’t the French’s to sell, and it ain’t ours to claim. If’n we wanted to buy it, we should have dealt with the real owners, them Sioux. And we should have waited for General Cooper to arrive before we brought our asses here today.”

  “Major Butler ain’t got no intention of waiting for Cooper to steal all the glory, and medals, and promotions. Hell, man, there’s history to be made here!” Smith exclaimed excitedly.

  “Yep, past history, ours,” Clint Richards scoffed.

  “Not with Rochelle’s tricks to help us,” Smith argued.

  “You really think those exploding balls are going to work?”

  “You will too when you watch Gray Eagle go poof.” Smith clamped his hands over his mouth to prevent his raucous laughter from spilling forth into the quietness which surrounded them.

  Clint eyed the wicked man and shook his head. He wished he was anywhere but here today. Gray Eagle had spared his life once, and that memory had never deserted him. Gray Eagle was a great leader, and a special man, and Clint hated to think he’d be killed in this cowardly and despicable manner. A soldier like the Eagle should die in battle; it turned Clint’s stomach to envision this kind of death.

  Gray Eagle rode between his sons on a ghostly white stallion, for his beloved Chula had been set free from old age years ago. It was a must for a warrior to have a mount who was fleet, responsive, agile, alert, strong, and smart. A warrior depended on his horse in battle and on the hunt for his success and survival. It was one of the highest coups to steal a foe’s war horse, which, in battle, carried symbols of his and his master’s prowess. Such a prized animal was kept near a warrior’s tepee and was cared for lovingly, and only he could ride it.

  At most times, a warrior rode bareback with only a leather thong in the animal’s mouth for control and guidance. Sometimes, a light saddle which was made of a hide filled with grass or buffalo hair was used. The Indian horses could not be compared to the white man’s mounts, for the Plains-bred animals far excelled those used by the Army.

  During an Indian boy’s training period, which covered many years, he was taught how to fight and ride simultaneously by using the animal as a shield. As with hand-to-hand fighting, lance throwing, arrow shooting, and hatchet tossing, a boy was drilled in battling on horseback with all weapons. He was also taught how to retrieve a wounded comrade by practicing with objects with grew larger and heavier as his size and skills improved. By the time he was a warrior, he could pick up a wounded or slain warrior and carry him away without breaking his speed. Agility for this necessary skill came from years of races, games, and sports which involved all of his senses working as one.

  The four Sacred Bow carriers rode as the four points of the Medicine Wheel—one on each side, one in the front, and one in the back—as it was their duty to protect their people with their lives and skills, just as it was the responsibility of each man not to allow a sacred bow to fall into the hands of an enemy if a carrier was slain. The four “shirt wearers” rode amongst the council members, chatting genially, while the two scouts stayed ahead of the group, ever alert for any sign of danger.

  The scouts had checked the first two canyons thoroughly and were approaching the third and next to last one before they reached open land. They had decided, if there was trouble, it would come at the last one, five miles beyond this point. One had ridden to the left and one to the right to scan behind the clusters of tall boulders; neither had sighted horses or men. They entered the canyon and studied it, finding no tracks and hearing no sound. They waved the party forward…

  The four Sacred Bow carriers rotated their positions, placing Sun Cloud to the left of the group. Bright Arrow dropped back to speak with Flaming Star, son of White Arrow. Gray Eagle did the same to speak with the war chief, Big Elk. Powchutu was talking with Strong Heart and Snow Warrior as they entered the canyon at three o’clock.

  Powchutu adjusted the shield he was carrying for his half brother. His eyes roamed its taut surface. The pattern represented the powers of the sky and its starburst design gave its owner protection. An ermine skin, for an ermine was said to deliver messages from the Great Spirit, was attached to its center, along with four eagle feathers from the warriors of the sky. Sacred and magical tokens, coup feathers, and scalplocks were fastened to its borders and at points on the painted star. It was a shield few men earned the right to make and to carry, and it thrilled him to know his bloodline possessed one.

  “Which one is him?” Smith whispered to Clint as the unsuspecting Oglala band neared the center of the enclosed area.

  Clint peered between the rocks and replied tonelessly, “The one near the front, with gray hair, carrying that Shooting Star shield.”

  Smith’s eyes enlarged as he recognized the old man who had visited the fort under the name of Tanner Gaston. He was astounded to realize he had met and spoken with the Eagle himself! Surely Red Band had been half-accurate, and that second man had, indeed, been Bright Arrow, son of Gray Eagle. How those two Indians must have laughed at their stupidity. But soon, he vowed, he would have the final laugh.

  The signal to attack came when the band reached the appointed place. Suddenly bursts of light and loud noises filled the air as grenades, designed by Captain Andre Rochelle, were tossed into the group. Smoke surrounded them; horses reared and whickered; and men and mounts went down. There was a desperate scramble for weapons and cover, but gunfire opened up on them; and more men and horses were slain.

  Some made it to the rocks nearby, but they were trapped between their enemies. It looked impossible to get to the wounded and dead. Bright Arrow saw his father move slightly and his heart pounded fiercely. Amidst gunfire, he flung himself onto his horse. Hooking one heel over his mount’s back and beneath the thong which surrounded his belly, he caught his rein in the bend of his elbow, slipped to the animal’s side, and raced toward his father. Concealed by his horse’s body, no soldier could recognize him as the man who had visited the fort as Clay Rivera. He moved so quickly and skillfully as he mounted and retrieved his father, that no musket fire struck them.

  Having that same intention, Sun Cloud swept up Powchutu as his brother was rescuing his father. Both made it to the safety of cover and placed their precious burdens side by side. From his uncle, Sun Cloud took the shield which Powchutu had refused to release earlier, and placed it beside his wounded father.

  The others were returning the gunfire with arrows when a target seemed in the clear, for it was foolish to waste shafts when they were pinned down. The two scouts lay dead near the front of their column. Sun Cloud checked for movement from any of the other fallen warriors, but saw none. His tormented gaze went to his father’s face.

  “Sun Cloud,” Gray Eagle spoke weakly, “you must ride for help.”

  “I am needed here, Father,” he protested, knowing the odds.

  “You must go quickly before more bluecoats arrive and we all die.”

  Sun Cloud knew his father could not survive his wound long, and he hated to leave his side. “It is your duty, Sun Cloud,” Gray Eagle said.

  Sun Cloud’s eyes sparkled with moisture as he embraced his father and vowed, “I will return and slay them all, Father. I love you.”

  “Remember all I told you and taught you, my son. Go quickly.”

  Sun
Cloud mounted in the rescue fashion and galloped from the canyon. As Plenty Coups watched his dust lengthen, he told his dying chief, “He is away safe, my friend and brother.”

  Gray Eagle looked at Bright Arrow. “You must return to camp and warn our people, for the bluecoats may strike there next. Care for your mother, Bright Arrow, for she was my life.”

  As with Sun Cloud, Bright Arrow protested with damp eyes, “How can I leave you and the others unprotected, Father? They are many.”

  “Do you wish them to attack our camp by surprise? You are a shirt wearer and must do the bidding of the council and your chief. You must not die this day, for the Great Spirit has work for you. Your duty is to your people, Bright Arrow, not to yourself or to your family. I am old, and my life has been long and good; do not risk all for a dying man. The lives of many are more important than the life of one or those of a few. You must take all of my possessions with you; do not allow the bluecoats to have bloody souvenirs from Gray Eagle.”

  “But how can you fight without your bow, lance, and shield?”

  “My fighting days are over, my son; you know this. The Great Spirit calls my name this sun, and I must answer. All is good with me.”

  Anguish seared through Bright Arrow as he watched his “vision” coming true. He removed Gray Eagle’s wanapin from his neck and collected his other possessions. He raged at the gunfire which was filling the area around them. “I love you, Father, and I will return for you when my mission is done. I swear on my life and honor, no white man will touch you this day or any day.”

  Gray Eagle smiled faintly. “Remember all I have taught you, my son, and lead your people wisely and bravely,” he remarked without meaning his words to sound as he and others nearby took them. “Go quickly, and tell your mother of my love for her.”

  Bright Arrow embraced his father as he fought back his tears. “The white man will curse this day, Father; this I swear.” He did as his brother earlier, and cleared the canyon with only a slight wound.

  Gray Eagle looked at Powchutu. “Our lives have been entwined since birth, my brother, and we will die together. It is good.”

  Powchutu smiled and replied, “It is good.” Then he died.

  Far away, on a ship, Stede Gaston caught the railing and inhaled sharply. When his nephew Allen Clarion asked what was wrong, Stede stared into the distance and replied, “My father is dead, and rests now.”

  Gray Eagle lifted his eyes skyward and prayed. Bring victory and peace to my people, Great Spirit. Watch over my loved ones, my beloved Alisha. Guide and protect Sun Cloud as he receives the chiefs bonnet, for the days ahead will be filled with dangers and pitfalls.

  Gray Eagle began to sing the Death Chant weakly for himself and Powchutu. When he was done, he said, “Your sons come to join you, Father. Meet us on the ghost trail and guide us to the Great Spirit. Together we will watch my son lead our people.” He closed his eyes, envisioned Alisha “Shalee” Williams, then ceased to breathe forever.

  The warriors around Gray Eagle began to sing the Death Chant together for their fallen chief and brothers, and the soldiers wondered what was taking place until a Crow scout explained. Then a cheer arose at four o’clock on April 24 of 1820 to alert the soldiers on the other side of the canyon of their victory. Clint turned away to retch, sick over his part in this tragic episode.

  In the Oglala camp, Tashina was leaning over her grandmother and trying to discover the problem. “I will seek out the shaman’s helper, and he will make you well again, Grandmother,” she stated frantically.

  “It is too late, Granddaughter. The Great Spirit calls to me. I go to join your grandfather,” Shalee murmured as her strength failed her.

  “But grandfather is away. He will return soon,” the girl reasoned.

  “No, little one, your grandfather is dead. I can see him waiting for me. Do not be sad, Tashina; it is the way of all things to complete their Life-circles. Care for your father, for he faces a great test. Seek out your love and be happy. I am coming, my love,” she whispered, reaching out her arms to the warrior only she could see…

  It was dusk when Bright Arrow charged into the camp and shouted a signal for the warriors to gather quickly about him. Failing to notice the items that Bright Arrow was carrying which told a gruesome tale, Tashina rushed forward to meet her father before another could reveal Shalee’s death to him. She told him sadly, “Grandmother walks with the Great Spirit. She said grandfather summoned her.”

  Bright Arrow lifted his head, cried out in anguish, then-drew his knife to slice across his right forearm and then his left to reveal his double sorrow. Holding up the possessions of Gray Eagle, he announced, “Our chief and many of our council are dead. We were attacked by the bluecoats, two canyons away. My father commanded me to warn our people to watch for an attack here. I must return to help them battle our foes. He sent his weapons and wanapin home so the bluecoats could not take them and count coup on Gray Eagle.”

  Many warriors surged forward and demanded to ride with him, but he repeated the partings words of his father. “I must return, for I have sworn vengeance, but you must guard our camp and people. I will take ten warriors with me.” He yielded slightly, then selected them. He appointed the shaman’s helper as the guardian of Gray Eagle’s shield, medallion, and other belongings.

  Tashina wept as she watched her father ride into danger once more. She wondered how love could be so powerful as to go beyond death, for her grandmother’s last words kept racing through her mind.

  Sun Cloud rode for hours with a heavy heart. In the distance, he saw dust rising from the hooves of numerous horses. His eyes widened and his heart thudded in dread, wondering if it was more soldiers heading for the canyon. If so, those remaining alive had no chance of survival or escape. If his father still lived, which he doubted, his body was in peril of theft. He was a Sacred Bow carrier and his duty was clear: he must try to slow them until help could arrive.

  Chapter Nine

  The large party from the war council approached Sun Cloud and halted. Sun Cloud explained the trouble and asked for their help, already knowing they would respond.

  Before riding off, as their horses rested for a short time, a Sisseton chief Fire Brand revealed, “A band of soldiers tried to attack the camp of the war council. We killed many and drove the others away. When the Oglala band did not arrive, we suspected your peril.”

  Chief Flaming Bow of the Red Shield Band of the Cheyenne asked, “Do you think any still live? It has been a long time since the attack.”

  It was like driving a hot knife into Sun Cloud’s body to reply, “In my heart, I know my father and his brother are dead. But others might breathe longer if we return swiftly and slay the bluecoats.”

  Fire Brand declared confidently, “We will defeat them as in the sun past when we rode against Fort Dakota and destroyed it.” He recalled that episode in his life clearly. He had pretended to be a scout for the fort, while learning their secrets. He had met Bright Arrow’s woman when she had come to aid his escape, and she had suffered at the hands of Lieutenant Moore for doing so. He had heard of her disappearance last spring, and had mourned for the valiant female. In the past, he had ridden many times with Gray Eagle and Bright Arrow; now, one great leader was dead, but another would replace him, for few warriors could match the prowess and coups of Bright Arrow.

  Silver Hawk spoke coldly, “We must slay every bluecoat in our lands. Gray Eagle will be avenged; this I swear, for he was my second father.” He was furious with Red Band for betraying him, and almost getting him killed. Red Band had given his word and the Army’s word that only the Oglala band would be attacked! He decided it was perilous to trust or to depend on anyone but himself for his future moves.

  “There is more, Sun Cloud,” Fire Brand hinted. “Races-the-Buffalo was slain in our battle. His warriors take his body home.”

  Sun Cloud could not help but think of his friend and Sacred Bow carrier Thunder Spirit, who was pinned down in the canyon with his b
rother Flaming Star and their father White Arrow. It would be cruel if the Great Spirit allowed Little Feet’s husband and true love both to die on the same day. Since the wounded and aged could not flee, the other warriors would remain with them, defending them, until death.

  Flaming Bow said, “You are brave, Sun Cloud, for you were willing to stand against a large band to fulfill your duty. We must tell others of this great deed. Come, darkness is near; we will use it wisely, for the whites foolishly believe Indians do not ride or attack when the moon replaces the sun.” Flaming Bow oddly reflected on the day when he had ridden into the Oglala camp twenty-four winters past to slay two warriors of his own tribe who had gone there to challenge Bright Arrow to the death for his white captive and to “avenge” the blood of Standing Bear who had committed that fatal error moons earlier. If not for Bright Arrow and Rebecca Kenny, the treachery of Standing Bear and White Elk might have remained concealed long enough to destroy his Cheyenne band. That season, he had taken Silver Star’s place as chief, just as Bright Arrow would take Gray Eagle’s. It was good that Bright Arrow had a brother worthy of riding beside him.

  Windrider spoke with Sun Cloud for a moment, and told him he had sent his son back to camp to warn and to protect their people.

  Then the Oglalas galloped toward the canyon from one direction, while the war party of united tribes approached from another, with Bright Arrow’s band arriving first. Both groups reached the canyon within thirty minutes of each other, near two in the morning. They began to inch their way toward the hiding places of the soldiers and toward the Oglalas who were trapped between them. No signal was given which might alert the Crow scouts to their presence, for both groups had left their horses at a safe distance to approach stealthily on foot.

  Captain Clarence Smith had left earlier, to report their victory to Major Gerald Butler, and to tell him the men would be along after sunrise, when they finished off the few remaining warriors and retrieved the body of Gray Eagle. He knew two warriors had escaped, but never imagined they would return with help before his troops could leave in the morning. Actually, he believed they had gone to warn and defend their camps and would probably think more soldiers were on the way. He wondered why Red Band had not recognized Gray Eagle at the fort and why the scout had denied the fallen man was the great Sioux leader, as others claimed. Red Band had suggested that Gray Eagle must have a brother who favored him, but no one had ever heard of such a brother. No matter, Smith assumed every Indian would be dead before dawn. He had taken Clint with him, for the man was violently ill and needed to see the doctor: they would become the only survivors of the grim raid which had slain one legend and would birth another…