Lakota

by G. Clifton Wisler

  "I could take the little ones with me," Louis offered.

  "You're frozen yourself," Itunkala pointed out. "How would Hinhancika endure such a trail?"

  "When will the Star Chief Crook come?" Tacante asked.

  "Soon," Louis said, frowning. "Very soon."

  "Then we must put out the scouts."

  Louis took the failure hard. He and Philip stayed but one night in Tacante's lodge, listening to the tales of the little ones and filling their bellies with meat. Next morning they left, hoping to warn others of the approaching danger.

  It was all in vain. Even those bands who set off for Red Cloud or Spotted Tail could not erase the snow from their path. The snowblind moon of March found Two Moons and a band of Sahiyelas camped with Low Dog's Oglalas. The wasicun Star Chief Crook found both.

  Bluecoats struck the camp hard, killing and burning. Warriors did their best to defend the helpless ones, but bullets flew like hailstones, and death was everywhere. Weary, near-naked survivors stumbled into Sunkawakan Witkotkoke's village with the terrible news. Soon the Lakotas were mounted and hurrying to avenge the killing. Crook's attack had failed already. The angry Sahiyelas and Oglalas had made a stand beside the river and turned the bluecoats back. Then others recaptured the stolen ponies and threatened the wasicuns. Now, with other Lakotas hurrying to join the fight, Crook returned to Fort Fetterman in failure.

  "He did nothing but kill many innocents," Tacante grumbled as he gazed at the burned camp and the slaughtered people.

  "Ayyy! He did much," Hokala objected. "The wasicuns have shown there is no going back. Two Moons, too, is with us. We'll make a good fight of it, Tacante."

  Soon word came that the Hunkpapa Tatanka Yotanka, the Sitting Bull, spoke defiantly of a great gathering of all the people at the greasy grass.

  "Come, join in the sun dance," criers shouted as they visited the many bands. "We'll be strong again."

  "Hau!" the young men said. "Mahpiya Luta beat the wasicuns. Now will come our chance."

  Tacante greeted this boastful talk with a bad face, for he dreamed often these days. No blanket of white covered the naked wasicuns now. Tacante dreamed only of a crying time on the plains.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tatanka Yotanka was a famed medicine chief among the Hunkpapas. It was he who made the preparations for the sun dance. Even as the young men hung from the braided buffalo strips and howled their prayers, the Bull cut strips from his flesh and induced a great fever. While his spirit floated upon the wind, a great vision came to him of earless soldiers falling into the hands of the people. Sitting Bull's dreams were known to hold much wakan, great power. As he spoke of his dream, he explained it foretold of a victory that would soon be given to the brave hearts.

  Tacante hoped it would be so, but he remembered Hinkpila's warnings. It would take a great victory indeed to rub out all the wasicuns, to kill the iron horse, and to recapture Paha Sapa from the hungry miners.

  But as word passed among the many bands of the Bull's dream, more and more voices joined in the brave heart shouts. Warriors prepared their best shirts and cleaned their weapons. And the many who had gathered on the shores of the greasy grass stream, also called Little Big Horn River, were joined by agency Indians who had tired of scratching the earth. Lakotas and Dakotas spread their camps on the sandy banks. Even the cousin Nakotas, the people of the north who had fought the wasicuns so bitterly in Minnesota, appeared. Two Moons came, together with many other Sahiyelas tired of the broken promises of the wasicuns.

  "Hau, we'll kill many bluecoats!" they boasted.

  Never had Tacante seen such a gathering of the peoples. Hundreds of lodges rose in their mighty circles. To the east Sitting Bull, the great war chief Gall, and the rest of the Hunkpapas took a place of great honor. Beside them camped the Sihasapas and small bands of Dakotas, Nakotas, and Assiniboins. The Minikowojus spread their camp circle next. The Itazipos, the no-bow people, camped with the Ohan Numpas, the two kettles.

  The Sicangus camped between the Itazipos and Oglalas, leaving the Sahiyelas on the far west. Tacante and Hokala set their lodges among the Oglalas, near where Sunkawakan Witkotkoke camped. The strange one more than ever walked his own trail, for he was preparing medicine for the fight all knew would soon come.

  Already scouts brought word of the star chief Crook. Again he had set out from Fort Fetterman with many soldiers. To the north, past Yellowstone River, more bluecoats were marching. And from the Dakotas came the hated one, Long Hair Custer, who had violated Paha Sapa and caused that sacred place to be lost.

  Tacante made many prayers. He wore the wakan bonnet of He Hopa, and he pounded buffalo horns to mix with the war paint of his brothers. Such paint bent the flight of bullets. Medicine charms were made for those too young to have fought before. The old men fashioned new arrows for sons and nephews, often using the wasicun iron of miners' pans or cooking pots. It was thought iron struck deeper into the hearts of these ignorant ones.

  It seemed to Tacante as the long days of midsummer arrived that the bluecoats had lost their way. Crow scouts often traveled the country, and surely they had told the white men of the great encampment. Maybe it didn't suit the wasicuns to strike a village filled with so many fighters. Bluecoats preferred to strike at women and dogs, after all.

  Soon, though, scouts brought word that Crook was near. It was not news to warm the heart. A thousand bluecoats, two hundred Crows, and many Snakes had gathered near Tongue River. Soon they would be at the throats of the helpless ones.

  Crook had sent his Crows ahead, then followed. The bluecoat army moved slowly up Rosebud Creek, the foot soldiers riding mules and the horse soldiers going ahead. The whole force made camp on the creek where days before Lakota boys had swum.

  "The wasicuns are close!" the criers shouted. "Now's the time to fight."

  "Brave up!" the Tokala pipe carriers called. "We must ride to protect the helpless ones. Brave up!"

  Tacante readied two war ponies and gathered a bag of wasna to sustain him. Itunkala soon appeared with two more horses.

  "It's a good day to die, Ciye," he called.

  "You're young," Tacante said, feeling less like Ciye, an older brother, and more like a grandfather.

  "I'm a boy no longer," Itunkala insisted. "Today I win a name."

  Tacante understood the Mouse's impatience, but sixteen snows made for a very short lifetime.

  "Come then, but stay behind me. Here, use this," Tacante added, handing over one of his pistols.

  "Hau!" Itunkala shouted.

  Hokala and Waawanyanka led the Tokalas, and Tacante followed. Never before had he worn He Hopa's bonnet to a fight, but its powerful medicine would be needed to fight so many wasicuns.

  "This time we will strike the wasicuns in their camp," Hokala cried. "They will be the defenseless ones."

  "It's a long way," Tacante replied. "Night will find us not yet there."

  "Then we'll rest our ponies beneath the chokecherry moon," Hokala said, waving toward where Sunkawakan Witkotkoke was assembling a band of Oglalas. Tacante motioned for Itunkala to follow, then led the way.

  All night Tacante rode up Little Big Horn and across Wolf Mountain toward Rosebud Creek. It was nearing dawn when his band emerged atop a high bluff overlooking the soldier camp.

  "Hau!" Hokala cried, pointing toward the dozing soldiers.

  "Wait," Sunkawakan Witkotkoke urged. "We must put on our war faces, and the ponies want rest."

  Tacante sighed, then silently rolled off his horse. He took his two ponies across the hillside to where the soft grass spread out beyond a small spring. He then lay down and chewed a bit of wasna. Itunkala joined him, and Hokala came along afterward. After devouring the dried meat and drinking from the spring, Tacante stretched himself out in the grass.

  "Tacante, will it be a hard fight?" Itunkala asked.

  "It's best to sleep," Tacante answered. "A weary warrior puts his companions into danger. Later we'll talk."

  Tacante obedi
endy lay on the ground beside his older brother. Tacante knew the young man wished to speak of batde, of death, but there was nothing, after all, to say. It would be learned quickly on the first brave heart charge.

  It was but the briefest of rests. The sun hadn't even risen high in the sky when the sound of trotting horses stirred Tacante to life. All around him warriors were readying their ponies or painting their faces. Some put on their finest clothes, for they wished in death to be thought of as men of standing. Tacante followed the Horse's example and wore only a cloth breechclout and He Hopa's medicine bonnet. Hokala wore a fine shirt decorated with scalp hair while Itunkala stripped like his brother.

  Tacante used the black ash paint on his face and hands, then colored his chest and arms with the sacred yellow of the sun. He made the horned sign of Tatanka on his chest and etched sacred thunder across his forehead. He then tied elk teeth behind his ears and took up the eagle whistie favored by Lakotas charging a determined foe.

  "Misun, come here," Tacante called to Itunkala.

  The Mouse hurried over, and Tacante tied elk-teeth charms behind his brother's ears. Tacante then spread ash across the Mouse's face and hands. The Heart felt proud of this boy, his mother's only other son, going to fight the wasicuns, but there was fear, too. Often it was the youngest who rushed ahead to die in a charge. There was no holding back a brave heart, though. All Tacante could do was paint the protecting yellow across the young man's narrow chest and grip him firmly a final time.

  "You carry a good shield," Tacante said, noting the heavy round hump-hide shield made by Hinhan Hota. "Use it well, little brother, to keep harm away."

  "Hau, I will!" Itunkala cried.

  Now, as the Lakotas collected their ponies, shots broke the stillness of the early morning air. To the north a party of Crow scouts raced toward the protection of the wasicun camp. Behind them came a howling whirlwind of Lakotas.

  For a brief time Tacante sat atop his horse and waited to see what the soldiers would do. The air was sweet with the scent of plums and cherries, and the hillsides exploded with color. It was a wondrous fine place. Soon the stain of blood and the odor of death would transform that scene.

  The soldier chiefs hurried to form lines. The foot soldiers scrambled up the heights, but the ground was so rough and broken that instead of forming one line on the high ground, the bluecoats found themselves collected into several knots here and there. Wherever there was a gap, the brave hearts charged.

  Tacante followed Sunkawakan Witkotkoke toward a line of horse soldiers, blowing through his eagle-bone whistle with the others. The sound unnerved the bluecoats, but they didn't flee. The Horse then raised his Winchester high above his head, screaming the old war cry, "Hau, Lakotas, it's a good day to die." The Oglalas howled in response and blew their whistles. In an instant they followed their strange one toward the bluecoats.

  It was a fight unlike those Tacante had known. The Lakotas charged, fought hard, then pulled back. Then the wasicuns did the same. Back and forth went the charges. A man or two would fall each time, but no line was broken. The wasicuns had good guns, but they were poor shots atop racing horses. Where the foot soldiers formed lines, though, the Lakotas met with a withering fire that dropped many good ponies and sent good men to the other side.

  Gradually the bluecoats seemed to take command. A Sahiyela charge was swept back by murderous rifle fire, and the soldiers rushed forward, cutting down stunned warriors trapped beneath horses. A brave deed was performed then by a young woman. Her brother, Comes in Sight, had his horse killed, and now he was in danger from a band of Crows. The girl howled like a demon and put on a bad face as she rushed to her brother's side. The surprised Crows held back from this phantom, and Comes in Sight was rescued.

  By now many of Tacante's companions had shot away their bullets. Itunkala had no cartridges or lead for his pistol and had turned to the bow. Tacante had only a few shells with him for the Winchester, and he tied the good rifle behind him and took up the old ash bow as an example to the discouraged ones. But arrows were little good against men firing rifles. Lakotas fell wounded. Soon they satisfied themselves with driving the enemy, especially the Crows, from the fallen so they might escape.

  As the thinning Lakota line began to waver, Sunkawakan Witkotkoke rode into their midst.

  "Brave up, kolas," the Horse called. "Remember the helpless ones. Come with me. It's a good day to die!"

  Hokala shouted as well.

  "I'm a fox," he sang. "I'm supposed to die. If there's anything difficult, if there's anything dangerous, that is mine to do."

  So saying, Hokala jumped from his horse and drove the sacred lance of the Tokalas into the earth. Itunkala knew of the lance bearer's oath, and the young man jumped down to join Badger. Others followed, and Tacante finally tied his horse to a cottonwood and hurried to his friends. Brave heart songs rose from the powder smoke as a band of Crows rushed the line. Arrows swiftly reached out and struck at the enemy. The Crow leader fell dead, and three of his followers retreated, wounded.

  "Hau, Crows are afraid!" Hokala shouted. "Come and fight us if you aren't women!"

  The Crows went to attack a band of Hunkpapas, though, leaving a line of bluecoats to deal with the Tokalas and their lance bearer.

  Now came a hard fight. The soldiers fired a deadly volley into the Lakotas, but the medicine bent the bullets so that they struck short. When the soldiers moved closer, Tacante gave a yell and led the Lakotas in a foot charge. He struck down a two-stripe with his bow and drove a knife into a hairy-chinned wasicun. Now the Heart took his only scalp of the battle, though he counted other coups.

  There were but fifteen Lakotas in that charge, but they sent fifty blue-coats running for safety. Victory shouts chased the bluecoats up a ridge, and all who saw it agreed it was a good charge.

  Crazy Horse now drove the Lakotas on with brave heart shouts. He himself rushed in on horseback to rescue fallen warriors or cover a retreat. Sadly he looked at the tired horses and the weary warriors.

  "Go down to the creek," he suggested. "The horses can drink and rest. If the bluecoats follow, they won't see us."

  "Hau!" Tacante shouted with fresh energy. The Horse was playing decoy again. Let the star chiefs soldiers come down there and die.

  Tacante himself pulled Hokala's lance from the earth and urged his true friend toward the creek.

  "We're not running away," Tacante said. "We go to make the ambush."

  "Then I will be a decoy," Hokala insisted.

  Indeed, Tacante also stayed behind, though it was Sunkawakan Witkotkoke who drew most of the attention. With his shiny Winchester held high, he taunted the soldiers to come down and kill him.

  "Come!" Tacante shouted. "Are you afraid?"

  The Star Chief Crook began to get control of his soldiers then. Three Stars, as he was known, sent his horse soldiers down into the creek, and the Lakotas braved up. Soon their arrows would find targets, and many good horses would be theirs.

  The Crows charged out of the cottonwoods and screamed their warning. Arrows knocked two Crows from their horses, and Itunkala rushed forward to count coup on the first. Hokala drove the point of his lance into the other and took his scalp.

  The soldiers started into the narrow ravine, but now Three Stars ordered a halt. Perhaps he remembered the foolish eagle chief Fetter-man and the hundred slain. Perhaps his heart was bad with all the killing. He drew his men back, and they returned to their camps.

  "Many have died," Sunkawakan Witkotkoke declared, staring at the many bodies littering the banks of the stream and the sides of the ridges. "We'll wait here and guard the trail to our camp. Hau! This has been a good fight, Lakotas!"

  Tacante and the others blew on their whistles so that a shrill cry seemed to rise from Mother Earth herself. It was a terrible thing to hear.

  The wasicuns made no more charges. Some Crows and Snakes rode among the nearby hills and slew cripples. The Lakotas tended their tired animals and nursed the wounded. Tacante m
ade the healing chants and ground windflowers over many wounds. He made a rabbit poultice for Waawanyanka, who had been cut by a Crow lance on the arm.

  The midday sun stood high over the land, and some spoke of resuming the fighting. Most had done enough. Hungry and tired, their bullets used up, the Lakotas started to head back to camp. Some sang brave heart songs. Others hung their heads in shame, for many of the loud-talking agency Oglalas had jumped from their horses and run away. Mahpiya Luta's son had left his horse and then been whipped badly by Crows. He was young, but he had gone to battie wearing a great war bonnet of eighty feathers, and all his friends now scolded him for such a foolish thing. He also lost a good Winchester to the Crows.

  Other young men were praised, though. Hokala reminded the Tokalas of how Itunkala had been the first to his side, and Tacante's brother spoke of his two coups. The Heart drew the young man close and examined the bullet holes in the Thunderbird shield. Twice the Mouse had walked in death's shadow, but the shield had proven its worth.

  "Now we go home," Tacante said, recovering his spare horse and offering it to one of the unhorsed Hunkpapas.

  "Surely Tatanka Yotanka was right when he saw a great victory for the Lakotas," Hokala cried. "We've beaten Three Stars."

  As they slowly made their way down Rosebud Creek, Tacante wondered if it had been a victory. Many good men were dead, and still the soldiers remained on Rosebud Creek. But next day Waawanyanka, who in spite of his wound remained to watch the bluecoats, brought word that the soldiers had gone back south.

  "Hurry, Lakotas," Sunkawakan Witkotkoke called. "We must find what can be used again."

  Tacante, weary as he was, mounted a fresh horse and followed. Many boys came along, too, for there was no fighting to be done now. The Lakotas returned to collect discarded clothing, but more importandy to recover arrows and dig lead from trees. Many cartridge boxes had been cast aside as well, and there were iron shoes to be pried from the feet of the dead soldier horses. That iron would make many arrowheads.