Lakota Winds (Zebra Historical Romance)

by Janelle Taylor

  Wind Dancer's party reached the sprawling valley near Fort Laramie where an immense throng of Indians-allies and adversaries-were camped; and more were arriving in large masses each day. Riding between his father and grandfather, with War Eagle and Red Feather behind them, he could not help but wonder if the Bluecoats and settlers were apprehensive with so many heavily armed and highly trained warriors close by. Yet, the fort was well-manned and the soldiers possessed awesome guns and cannons for protection. They had ridden fast to get there before the talks began, and had succeeded by one day.

  Vast grasslands, coloring themselves for the fall season, stretched in several directions. The visually impenetrable Platte and the clear and winding Laramie rivers were nearby, as was lofty Laramie Peak which was used as a landmark by both cultures. Westward, foothills swept up into the Laramie Mountains which flowed onward into the massive Rocky Mountains. A profusion of trees and bushes grew along the riverbanks and in dense clusters here and there where water was close to ground surface. An extensive prairie dog village dotted the landscape not far away with many furry creatures poised atop their burrows as if to observe the action while remaining ready to dive into safety or race out to quickly forage for food. Old Fort John, with its whitewashed adobe enclosure, sat on a low bluff overlooking the river. Beyond it were the assorted structures of the newest section of the military post. A few of them had flat tops, but most had high pitched roofs with one or more chimneys and the majority had extended windows. The white man's flag on a tall pole-according to the wind-either waved gently or popped wildly on their Parade Ground. Close by were the conical dwellings of Indians who lived off the white man's handouts.

  Rising Bear, in his full ceremonial garb, now led the way as they rode onward to an already trampled meadow where an enormous encampment was situated. The gatherings of lodges were separated only by short distances for diverse tribes. They located the site of Red Cloud and his Tetons and dismounted.

  Wind Dancer sighted the Peace-Maker's camp of many tents, which was protected by an abundance of Bluecoats. Soon talks would begin, and he could only imagine what extreme changes they would wrought.

  At the fort, Thomas Fitzpatrick was dismayed, as the promised goods to be used in exchange for the chiefs' signatures on a treaty document had not arrived and word was they would be several weeks late. He knew if he didn't think up a cunning ploy, the Indians would return to their lands and the chance for initiating another council and peace were rare. For now, all he could do was hope the wagons hurried and he could persuade the Indians to stay until they came and an agreement could be made.

  As Wind Dancer's group visited with Red Cloud, soldiers from Mitchell came around to tell them, as they had the others, that this location would soon be barren of grass needed by Fort Laramie's stock and for thousands of Indian horses in the coming days and they should find a site where there was sufficient grass to graze their animals. The Bluecoats said that Superintendent Mitchell and Indian Agent Fitzpatrick wanted the chiefs to talk amongst themselves and make a suggestion since the area was familiar to them. They were told that Mitchell had ordered them to turn loose many head of cattle from the fort's herd so their braves could capture, slaughter, and cook them, as most were present without their families, and meat would be easy for the men to roast over open fires.

  Wind Dancer guessed the white leaders were stalling for some reason, and they assumed a full belly would calm the restless warriors. He and his people would not chase the cattle, for they had brought food with them. He almost laughed in amusement when he overheard a brave speculate about the cattle being tainted and the gift being a trick to sicken them. Wind Dancer doubted the white men would be that foolish amidst a throng of Indians they surely did not want provoked against them. He was grateful for the Peace-Maker's decision not to offer the Indians whiskey. Perhaps the fort sutler had been ordered not to sell any "firewater" to the "redskins." If whiskey entered the uneasy setting, trouble would surely erupt with a myraid of disparate tribes in such close proximity.

  Despite that caution, trouble was sparked the next day when Washakie and his Shoshones, escorted by soldiers and accompanied by the mountain man Jim Bridger, arrived just as Mitchell was preparing to speak. A Dakota warrior tried to attack Washakie in retribution for a past misdeed. One of the men acting as an interpreter halted the Dakota's charge before a fight could break out and spread hostility to those men's companions.

  Wind Dancer watched how Mitchell, Broken Hand Fitzpatrick, and the soldiers handled the potentially perilous situation, and was impressed. His insightful mind reasoned that not all white men were evil and scornful, but their numbers were all too few. The site of their new location, the first matter, was discussed and settled quickly. It pleased him, as it took them farther away from the fort, its detachments, and its dreadful weapons.

  The assembly of Indians and Whites moved eastward to Horse Creek, an offshoot of the Platte River. Many Bluecoats traveled with them, most riding on the group's fringes as they watched for trouble and stayed ready to handle it swiftly. One of the wives of a white officer rode with them, no doubt to prove to the Indians they were trusted not to attack the Whites.

  Wind Dancer thought of his beloved wife and wished she were there with him to witness this unpredictable event. He missed her terribly and, having been an equal part of the visionquest, she deserved to be there to see their efforts come to fruition. Yet, the Crow village they had hopefully tricked recently had not arrived, and their absence worried him. Even so, the Red and White Shields were camped close to each other at the edge of the Paha Sapa and their warriors were to remain on constant alert for danger, so she and their bands should be safe during his absence. He and Chumani had ridden a long and perilous path together and now that a truce loomed ahead with their enemies, he must not lose her for any reason.

  A huge campsite was erected at Horse Creek on Friday. After Mitchell sent word around that it was a White custom to rest over the weekend, it was announced the peace talks would begin on Monday morning, September the eighth, at nine o'clock. The signal to gather would be the ceremonial firing of their cannon.

  Again, Wind Dancer had the feeling the Peace-Maker was stalling for time. He prayed it was not to give time for more soldiers and powerful weapons to arrive and they had not been lured into a trap. He was aware of how much death and destruction could be carried out with cannons, howitzers, and black powder thundersticks.

  "Father, we must stay on alert for trickery," Wind Dancer disclosed before voicing his previous thoughts. "I do not trust most of the Whites and Bluecoats, though Broken Hand seems honorable. We must stay ready to defend ourselves and to escape if a threat appears."

  "That is wise, my son, and you must reveal such words to Red Cloud."

  "I will do so before I eat and sleep, but I am sure his thoughts and feelings match mine. Use eagle eyes and sharp ears while I am gone."

  During what the white man called the "weekend," various tribes and bands-excluding Wind Dancer's-entertained the Peace-Maker and his party with processions of their warriors in their finest garments and headdresses. Certain dances were performed in colorful costumes, accompanied by loud drumming. Songs were sung, vocables were murmured, and coups were chanted. Foods cooked by some of the warriors' wives and other female members of their families were offered to the observers, though most only pretended to eat or taste the unfamilar or-to them-unsavory gifts.

  To thank the participants for their diversions and offerings, Mitchell passed out items from his own supplies: coffee, sugar, salt, tobacco, flour, and a few blankets he had brought with him.

  Wind Dancer observed as the Whites met in a shady setting on Sunday morning to sing, pray, and listen to their shaman's words as the gray-haired man read from a large and worn black-covered book in his hands. It jogged his memory to travel to seasons long past when Omaste performed those same actions, and when Sunshine tried to teach Cloud Chaser to do the same, though his half-white brother rebelled against
a custom which conflicted with the Indian beliefs taught by their father and people. He could not help but wonder if Cloud Chaser was still alive somewhere and if he could ever return to them. If so, how would a man with mixed bloods be greeted and treated by their people and by other tribes, especially if this attempt at peace between the two so dissimilar cultures failed?

  Monday morning, the cannon was fired to signal the opening of the treaty talk. Many Indians were surprised and angered when the officer's wife sat with the White leaders, as their women were never permitted to sit in council, and some viewed it as a bad sign. Even so, neither her husband, nor Mitchell, nor Fitzpatrick, nor the highest ranking military officer present sent her away.

  As the ceremonial Peace Pipe was being smoked, the Crow, Gros Ventre, and Assiniboni arrived in a large and noisy party, swelling the count of Indians to over ten thousand. Another White shaman rode with them-Father DeSmet, a Catholic missionary and Culbertson of the American Fur Company which had once owned Fort John and Laramie.

  Yet, it was the Apsaalooke which swarmed down on the previously serene setting like buzzing insects as they whooped, shook feathered lances overhead, and made their highly decorated horses prance or paw the air. They, too, were clad in their finest array and had adorned themselves with wooden or trade combs and dangles in their hair, extra feathers on their bonnets, rings on their fingers, numerous layers of neck beads, and glass trade beads in various colors sewn on their possessions. Many wore seashells or suspended thongs with beads in their ears. Some had their hair chopped off at different lengths near their faces; others displayed topknots secured by decorative thongs and oddly placed feathers.

  Wind Dancer sighed a deep breath of relief; for once, he was happy to see Crow faces, and he recognized many of them from the camp they had tricked and others from past conflicts.

  At the first meeting, Mitchell said the multi-band Indians had to select one man as a head chief to meet, speak, and sign for their tribal bond at the second talk in two days.

  Wind Dancer was amazed that friend and foe alike agreed to that unfair demand; all but the Dakotas. Their Nation was one of the largest and most powerful with three distinct branches growing from the Dakota trunk, with thirteen smaller tribal branches thrusting outward, and with many twiglike bands extending from those thirteen limbs. How could one man, he and others asked, speak and vote for numerous bands when many were diverse and secluded from others? How could a woodland or plant-growing tribe speak for what was best and just for a Plains tribe; or the other way around? How could a stranger represent them as head chief, particularly in such an important matter? How could that man know which points they would agree to and which they would reject? How could he know if they considered the goods offered as sufficient recompense for the white man's unknown requests? Yet, Mitchell stuck to his strange requirement.

  As chiefs talked with their bands concerning the offensive matter, Wind Dancer spoke privately with his father. "Cast your vote for Brave Bear as the white leaders and many others desire, for he has no power or influence over our people," he urged. "When the time comes and the truce is strained and they say we break our word, we can tell them your name is not signed upon their paper, so we have not broken our word. If they say you helped choose Brave Bear, you can say you spoke against their desire for a head chief but they would not continue the treaty talk until you agreed, and you did so because you wanted peace between us and all enemies."

  "That is good, my son, and I will follow your wise words."

  Soon the Brule Brave Bear was selected by a majority vote, a warrior who did not think and feel he was best in all ways to be the head chief of all Dakotas, to speak and sign a treaty which would affect all of them in similar and in different ways. Yet, Mitchell was satisfied.

  The second talk began on Wednesday morning, September tenth, with the head chiefs in control of the Indians' fates, and with their peoples crowded behind them to listen to the provisions of the treaty.

  Ateyapi Broken Hand Fitzpatrick praised them for allowing his people to live in or to cross their lands. He admitted they had come and done so without permission, and apologized.

  Wind Dancer decided that Thomas Fitzpatrick, a tall man with gray hair, was trustworthy, brave, and strong in body and spirit. It seemed to him as if Broken Hand sought what was fair for both sides, a matter which existed only because his people had encroached on their lands. Yet, since the Whites had come and would remain until or unless driven out by force, Broken Hand wanted them to live in peace with each other; he wanted the Indians to cease their hostilities which often encompassed the Whites in the area of their dispute. He spoke of the Indians' past and future losses and said they would receive reparations for them. He said food and other needs would be given out to all tribes once every circle of the seasons.

  Certain numbers, amounts, and words meant little to Wind Dancer: "$50,000" worth of cattle, "staples," and other goods "annually" for "fifty years." Yet, he was certain that was a lot of meat and goods and would be passed out for a very long time. Long enough, he feared, for many Indians to become too dependent upon the Whites, a conclusion which seemed to be accurate when an interpreter put the offer in revealing terms. He was concerned when the ateyapi spoke of Whites teaching them and their children the wasicun ways and tongue, and teaching them how to "farm" the land. They were not growers of seeds and plants as some tribes and bands were, he mentally scoffed; they were hunters, mainly of the buffalo! Yet, as Broken Hand pointed out, how long could the buffalo feed them when herds were hunted by Indians and Whites, and more and more each season? Forever, Wind Dancer's mind scoffed again, if only slain by Indians for food, garments, shelter, and other needs; as the Indian always left alive enough bulls for breeding and enough cows for bearing offspring who would repeat that sacred Circle-of-Life! It was the wasicun who hunted only for hides and left meat to rot or feed scavengers, or persuaded greedy and foolish braves to do so in exchange for whiskey and trade goods! Still, things were shifting so drastically that perhaps there was no way to stop the deadly changes.

  When disputes arose over territorial boundaries, Father DeSmet, Jim Bridget, ateyapi Broken Hand, and others parleyed together and came up with suggestive lines of segregation for enemy tribes. The dispute between Crow and Dakota over hunting grounds was given much consideration and it was decided that each nation would have an area where they would live and hunt, but when the buffalo roamed from their territory, they could follow and hunt as long as they did not attack others in that location.

  Wind Dancer was especially interested in that part of the meeting since he had been captured and tortured on Dakota lands by an encroaching Crow band. Now that an agreement had been reached, any Crow who raided or killed in another's territory during the hunting season would be punished both by the Bluecoats and other Indians.

  Wind Dancer wished he could read the white man's markings on the papers, as he suspected more was recorded there than was revealed; just as he feared the head chiefs did not understand many words and terms and their repercussions. How, he reasoned, could they live in peace forever-Indian with White, and foe with foe-when neither the Whites nor their enemies of many generations would keep their promises? If his half-white brother had not been stolen from them long ago, Cloud Chaser could expose the words, as Sunshine had taught him to "read" them.

  Wind Dancer recalled that painful period in his life when his mother had been stolen from them. Winona had escaped captivity and returned home after the passings of two circles of seasons with the enemy when all believed her dead. That had been twenty winters past. It was during that lonely time for his father that Chief Rising Bear had taken the captive white woman to his sleeping mat to appease his torment, and Omaste had born their half-Lakota son before he vanished at ten winters old. Following his mother's return, she had given birth to War Eagle and Hanmani, and Sunshine had died. It was as if both people with white blood flowing in them had been sent away so his father would not have to confront his
moment of weakness anymore. It was strange, he reasoned, how the Great Mystery worked His way at times.

  Wind Dancer wondered why his lost brother had visited his mind so many times recently. Were these thoughts, he wondered, connected also with the Great Mystery? He could not forget what Nahemana had told him only one moon ago: "The past is not wrapped in a blanket or buffalo hide and does not rest on a death scaffold. It hides in clouds and will be seen before many more seasons pass. This I saw in a dream when last we slept."

  "What does the dream mean, Grandfather?" he had asked.

  Nahemana had shaken his head and said, "I have not been shown."

  Despite many difficulties, the head chiefs finally signed the Treaty of the Long Meadows on Wednesday, September seventeenth. A great celebration ensued. Indians held more processions in their full regalia and displayed many warrior skills. They sang, danced, drummed, and feasted joyously. Soldiers fired the cannon several times, did many multiple gun salutes, sang their songs, and gave demonstrations of their skills with sabres, rifles, and horsemanship.

  "Do we leave for camp now, Father?" War Eagle asked.

  "No, my second son, we must await the gifts or the Peace-Makers and other tribes will think we do not honor the agreement. The ateyapi says the loaded wagons will arrive in three suns; then we will leave."

  "That is a wise plan, Father," Wind Dancer praised him. "I am glad you were not chosen as a head chief to make such difficult choices and to be held responsible for the paper they signed. I would not want you to travel far away to the white man's Big Council Lodge. Broken Hand takes eleven of the signers with him when he carries the treaty paper to the Great White Chief in the place called Washington."