"Hau!" Itunkala yelled, dressing himself in the shirt of a fallen three-stripe. Other boys discarded their breechclouts to try the wasicun trousers. Most were dissatisfied, though, and used only the leggings.
There was good canvas thrown from the tops of wagons, too, and many flat tin plates and forks. Tacante found a good Crow knife half buried in the dirt. But it was the lead and powder that proved most helpful. Many would employ their bullet molds or make powder cartridges those next days. The Lakotas would not be defenseless long.
Chapter Nineteen
The great village of the Lakotas, Dakotas, and Sahiyelas passed a somber three days of mourning. Many brave hearts had fallen to the blue-coats of Three Stars, but this time the helpless ones were protected. Burial lodges were set up on the far bank of Little Big Horn, although many of the younger men were buried in the high country overlooking Rosebud Creek. The wounded were provided for by the healers, and Tacante's help was sought often.
Otherwise the camp was alive with the stories of bravery. Hokala was looked upon as a leader by the young Oglalas, for all respected a man who staked himself to the earth in defiance of the enemy. As for Tacante, all knew the power of the horned bonnet and elk-tooth charms made wakan by Heart of the People.
It seemed for a time that good days might follow the fight with Three Stars Crook. New arrows replaced those expended in battle, and many new cartridges and lead balls were made. There was a scarcity of percussion caps used by the old rifles and most of the pistols, though, for they were impossible to make. Some of the rifles taken off the Crows and Snakes were made to use flints, but good flints were also scarce.
"Soon we'll fight naked, with only the cold steel of our knives to protect us," Tacante complained.
"Still we will win," Itunkala boasted. "The bull says the fight on Rosebud Creek was not the victory he saw. It awaits us yet."
Tacante frowned at such talk. The scouts spoke of other soldier bands coming from the north, and there was no forgetting Blue Creek.
"Rest easy, Brother," Waawanyanka said when Tacante prepared to scout the hills to the east. "If there are wasicuns coming, I will find them. Always we send men to keep watch."
Tacante trusted Watcher, but many of the scouts grew tired of watching the barren landscape and took off to chase Crow ponies. Trust was placed in Sitting Bull's dreams, and few cares were devoted to tomorrow's plight.
Tacante sang and danced and ministered to the sick during this time. Often he conducted the Inipi rite, for men who rode into battle required strong purification. When not thus employed or off hunting fresh meat, he oversaw the instruction of his sons.
"You've taught me to use the bow, Ate," Tahca Wanbli said when Tacante praised the boy's skill. Not many youths could hit the elusive rabbit with the first arrow at such a tender age. "Soon I'll ride to war with you and Itunkala."
The notion soured Tacante, and he went into the hills to think. Two nights he stayed there, praying for a vision. None came, and he returned to his lodge in disappointment.
It was a fine, bright day, and Tacante paused briefly to watch boys chasing each other in the river. Itunkala was there, shouting and running down the younger boys. The older ones found Mouse as wiry and tough as old buffalo hide. For a moment young men of seventeen and eighteen summers ceased to be grim-faced warriors. Their taunts and laughter as they made mock charges through their younger comrades brought back warm memories to Tacante's heart.
Soon Tahca Wanbli would be among them. To think that he who was only yesterday a tiny child bouncing along in the pony drag would be a broad-shouldered boy soon, holding horses while his father and uncle engaged the wasicuns! Ah, that was a notion to age even a brave heart.
Tacante crossed the river slowly. As he gazed upon the wakening camp, he felt great pride. He could see beneath the rolled-up lodge skins that here was a great and powerful host. His dread of a wasicun attack had grown those last days. A young Sahiyela had dreamed of the coming of long knives, and many of the grandmothers spoke of an approaching enemy. Old ones had the all-seeing eyes, and they were to be listened to. And yet, seeing the people strong and numerous, Tacante's fears waned. The sun dance had brought Wakan Tanka's help, hadn't it? Three Stars and the bluecoats were leaving.
"Hau, Tacante!" Itunkala called, pausing in his game to race to his brother's side. Without his Thunderbird shield and war paint, the Mouse looked young and thin.
"Misun, you're very wet," Tacante said, laughing as his brother rested a waterlogged hand on one shoulder. "Perhaps the horses would also like a drink."
"Ayyy!" Itunkala shouted, grinning crazily. "I will ask them."
"Take care, little brother," Tacante advised, gripping the Mouse's arms firmly. "The enemy's scent hangs in the air."
"Hau!" Itunkala howled. "We'll have another fight then."
As Itunkala hurried to where he'd piled his clothes and dressed himself, a party of horsemen splashed along the banks of Little Big Horn. Tacante recognized Waawanyanka among them. Here were scouts come back from watching Three Stars. Watcher, in spite of his bad arm, refused to stay behind.
"It's a strange thing," Waawanyanka said, halting his horse when he reached his old friend. "The buffalo are gone from Rosebud Creek."
"And Three Stars?" Tacante asked.
"Ah, he's run away like a frightened rabbit, leaving only some Crows to watch."
Tacante nodded. The news should have cheered him. It didn't, and that was cause for more worry.
"Has anyone gone to the east to look?" Tacante asked.
"Some Sahiyelas are there, and we saw a band of Oglalas going away."
Tacante knew of this. Some of the bad faces were going back to Red Cloud. They were sure to send word if trouble lurked in that direction.
"It's good, kola," Tacante said finally. "Come, share my food. Hehaka always prepares too much."
"I will bring my family," Waawanyanka readily agreed. "After I see my horses fed."
"Leave them here," Tacante suggested. "Itunkala can see they have water, and the grass is good."
Waawanyanka climbed off his horse and handed the bridle to the Mouse, who was waiting behind his older brother, eagerly listening to each word. Now Itunkala was forced to turn to his labors. Tacante and Waawanyanka walked together past the Hunkpapa camp toward the lodges of the Oglalas beyond.
Thus the day began with Tacante's return to his camp. As he sat with Waawanyanka's family and his own three sons while Hehaka gave out pieces of stewed meat and turnips, he couldn't imagine a brighter, lovelier day to be alive. Cetan Kinyan climbed upon his father's knee and showed a fine brass buckle Itunkala had brought back from Rosebud Creek.
"Ate, you will take us to this place?" the boy asked.
"Itunkala talks of hunting there," Tahca Wanbli added. "Ate, can I take my bow?"
"Perhaps," Tacante said, holding Cetan Kinyan gendy and smiling to the older boy. Hinhancika, the Little Owl, crawled over and nestled against his father's side, and Tacante wrapped an arm around him as well. Here was the future of the Lakota people. It was a comfort for a far-seeing man to look to the world beyond his nose.
Tacante devoted the rest of the morning to working hides. He gave the boys a chance to join in the work, and Tahca Wanbli joined eagerly. Cetan Kinyan and Hinhancika preferred to watch. Hehaka and her sisters had gone to dig turnips and pick a few late plums.
By midday Hehaka had filled her basket. She returned and made a soup. Itunkala had finished watering the horses, and he joined his brother's family for the meal.
"The Sahiyelas say soldiers are coming," Mouse told Tacante after the boys had gone off to chase a pair of camp dogs. "Many omens say it's so."
"Then maybe you should keep some horses close," Tacante advised. "Scouts are out, though. The Sahiyelas are always fearful of attack. Too many remember Sand Creek and Washita River. Others suffered on Powder River when Three Stars struck Two Moons."
Itunkala set off to bring the horses. Tacante thought to ride ou
t and have a look to the west, but a young Sicangu arrived with a swollen arm, and the Heart turned his medicine eyes to the boy's hurt. Tacante determined it was little more than the bite of a wasp, and he offered a prayer and spread a curing lotion on the arm. By midafternoon he was back at his lodge, working on the hides.
Suddenly a sharp cry shattered the calm.
"Upelo!" a voice cried. "Wasicuns!"
The words cut through the heart of every warrior. Tacante stared at a terrified young Sahiyela racing among the lodges, ignoring the old rules of entering a camp only from the east. Horses whined, and Tacante set aside his hides and walked calmly to his lodge.
"Ate, are the soldiers coming to kill us?" Cetan Kinyan asked.
"No one will kill you," Tacante promised young Flying Hawk. "You must have the brave heart, though. Stay here and guard our lodge. Obey your brother, and help Hinhancika. I must make my face ready for war."
Tahca Wanbli quickly took charge of his brothers and brought them inside the lodge. Tacante was smearing ash upon his face and hands. Hehaka brought the buffalo shield, then helped her husband tie the elk-tooth charms behind his ears.
"Ate, here's your rifle," Eagle Hawk said when Tacante finished painting his chest. "Fight well."
"I will," Tacante pledged as he gazed outside. His eyes searched for Itunkala, but the Mouse was nowhere to be found. Hokala stood waiting for his old friend, though, and no more time could be wasted.
"I need a horse," Badger said, looking at the four animals hobbled nearby. "Rees have struck our herd."
"Take the buckskin," Tacante said as he placed He Hopa's bonnet upon his head. "Has Three Stars come back?"
"He had no Rees," Hokala reminded Tacante. "The bluecoats are striking the Hunkpapas even now. Come!"
Tacante joined the Badger, and together they mounted their horses. Tacante left the other two, hoping Itunkala would bring them along later. By the wave of fleeing women and children, it was clear a hard fight was going on ahead. A Tokala might take his time to make medicine, but he couldn't wait for others before striking the enemy.
He and Hokala moved east through the fleeing helpless ones. Boys no older than Tahca Wanbli hurried guns to their fathers and brothers. Women carried shields. Old men shouted encouragement and stood ready with bows should the wasicuns break the Hunkpapa line.
Tacante was angry. He recalled Blue Creek, and he wondered why the scouts should not have seen the bluecoats earlier. Ree scouts! This must be the army come down from Yellowstone River. Or Long Hair Custer! Ah, it was good there were so many Lakotas nearby.
"Kolas!" the calming voice of Sunkawakan Witkotkoke called. "Come and fight! Defend the helpless ones! Shoot your last arrow and fire your last bullet! Let no soldier reach our camp!"
The strange one, near naked as usual and painted eerily, with the red-tailed hawk dancing in his hair, rode his horse toward the river, calling for others to follow. The hailstones dotting his chest gave wakan to his words. Tacante and Hokala set off to follow their old friend. Others arrived as well, and soon a band of Oglalas and Sicangus hurried to join the fight.
Clearly the soldiers were in a bad way. The Hunkpapas had recaptured the pony herd, and many Rees lay cut down at the edge of the camp. Lakotas also lay in the dust, some of them shot down by many bullets. Others moaned from their wounds and urged the others on.
"Brave up!" a young Minikowoju shouted as he fought to halt the blood flowing from his belly. "Already I'm dead. I wait for you on the other side."
"Hau!" the Oglalas called to him. "It's a good day to die, brother."
As Sunkawakan Witkotkoke charged the bluecoats at the water's edge, a great cry rose up from the other Lakotas. "Sunkawakan Witkotkoke comes!"
What little resolve remained in the soldiers standing near the river melted like ice in the noonday sun. A pair of Rees tried to meet the charge, but Tacante's Winchester cut them down. A buckskin-clad scout was caught by the chargers and cut to pieces. The Oglalas tore through the enemy as a sharp knife cuts bear fat, and the soldier line broke. Soldier horses fled in panic while the bluecoats hurried up a nearby hill. It was hard going for men on horseback, and Tacante halted.
"Save your bullets!" Crazy Horse cried. "Wait!"
But it was no use. The fight was an individual thing now. Lakota charged bluecoat, dodged a bullet, and struck down the enemy. Or else the bluecoat took careful aim and shot down a brave heart.
One group of clever bluecoats was hiding in a ravine covered by heavy brush. The Lakotas tried to root them out, but a heavy fire met each charge. Finally some boys set fire to the brush. After a bit the wasicuns howled and cried. One ran out into the open, choking, with his arm smoking. A young Hunkpapa charged him and cut his throat.
Fire soon forced other bluecoats and a Crow into the open, and these, too, were killed. Tacante had been resting his horse, but he saw a large wasicun carrying a small flag lead two companions toward the hill where the other bluecoats had fled.
"Kill them!" someone cried. "Get that flag!"
Tacante charged up beside them. One wasicun pulled a pistol, but Tacante knocked it aside with his shield. He then fired his rifle into the face of the flag carrier, blowing him from his horse. Tacante clubbed a second soldier to the ground. Others escaped a moment before a rush of Sicangus fell upon them.
Tacante tore the flag from the slain soldier's grip, then drew a knife and cut away the bluecoat's scalp. As the Heart held up the flag, the second wasicun fell upon him.
"I'll kill you, you devil!" the soldier shouted, clawing Tacante's side as might an animal. Tacante threw the soldier off, then turned back and drove the blade of his knife into the wasicun's belly down to the hilt. The bluecoat's eyes rolled back, and he screamed as Tacante drove the blade up into the vitals. A small army of young men now descended on the scene, eager to count coup on the dead soldiers. Tacante took the scalp before stepping away to tend the deep scratches in his side and back.
Sitting Bull appeared then, calling out that these other bluecoats, the ones on the hill, should be left to tell of their cowardly attack and of the death it brought them.
"Wakan Tanka has given us these lives," the Bull said, bringing back to all the memory of his dream.
Tacante swallowed those words and tried to cast off the bad heart he had for the wasicuns. Perhaps the hundred had charged, and he could see around him many dead. The Ree scouts were cut down hard. Many horses were captured. It was a great victory.
"Tacante, my brother, you fought well!" Hokala called, holding up a scalp. Tacante held up his two, then tied them to his belt and draped the captured flag across his chest. All around, the small boys and women had come to strip and cut up the bodies.
Tacante managed to laugh at the wide eyes of the little ones gazing at the hairy bodies of the naked soldiers. He recalled how strange he had thought it to grow hair in such odd places. But there was little time to observe the hard-hearted cutting up of those foolish wasicuns who had charged the huge Lakota camp. A soldier horn was blowing from the far side of the village. More soldiers were coming down toward Little Big Horn, toward the Sahiyelas, attacking the west where Hehaka and the little ones waited helplessly.
"Hau!" Tacante shouted, turning his weary horse. He kicked the animal into a gallop and raced along. Hokala was soon at his side, as were many of the young Oglalas. Up ahead Sunkawakan Witkotkoke had already gathered a force to cut down these women fighters.
"Hurry!" the cry arose. "Protect the helpless ones."
"Hau, kolas!" Waawanyanka shouted as he rode up, his shield tied to his useless arm. "Our people are in danger !"
Up ahead, where the river crossing led to the Sahiyela camps, a great host was turning the bluecoats back toward a hogback ridge. Two Moons was closing in on the other side, hungry for revenge against the wasicuns for the attack on his going-to-the-agency camp.
"Come, brothers!" Sunkawakan Witkotkoke called, waving his companions onward. "Follow the Sahiyelas! Let none of these wasicu
ns escape our hands!"
Tacante echoed the call, for already the sting of his slashed back and side drove hatred into his heart. He saw the faces of the little ones waiting in their father's lodge, putting the brave faces on even as fearful shooting grew closer.
Then Tacante's horse stumbled, and he fell against the rocky ground violently. If Hokala hadn't turned to fend off the following warriors, the Heart might well have been trampled. Tacante shook off the pain and got to his feet, then turned toward his horse. Already it was screaming in agony, for both forefeet appeared lamed.
"Look!" Hokala shouted, and Tacante turned and watched a solitary young rider appear, riding swiftly with a second horse carried along behind. It was Itunkala, his youthful face painted grim black.
"Here's a horse, Brother," the Mouse said as he reached Tacante. "It's a good day to die."
"Hau, Itunkala!" Hokala yelled. "Let no bluecoat escape."
Tacante now took out his eagle-bone whisde and blew the shrill call. A hundred and another hundred whistles answered. The sound swallowed the screams of dying wasicuns and the brave heart songs of Lakotas and Sahiyelas. A whirlwind of painted warriors, most of them now creeping up the rocky ridge on foot, was driving the wasicuns back. Small bunches tried to form lines here and there, but torrents of bullets and waves of arrows cut them down.
Tacante, Hokala, and Itunkala arrived to find Sunkawakan Witkotkoke exhorting his companions toward a clump of soldiers atop the hill. Tacante saw a tall wasicun chief firing his pistol and shouting bravely toward a handful of companions. This soldier seemed familiar. Perhaps Tacante had met him at Red Cloud. Perhaps the bluecoat was among those riding Paha Sapa, trying to drive out the thieves. It didn't matter. Tacante climbed off his horse, raised the Winchester, and shot the soldier chief in the knee.
Itunkala shouted loudly. Then, before Tacante could halt him, Mouse whipped his horse and charged the wasicuns.
"Misun!" Tacante called, fighting to move the lever and advance a new shell into the firing chamber of his rifle. Now Itunkala was in the way. The young man fired an arrow into the heart of a soldier. Then a volley of rifle fire spun the boy from his horse.
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