Bill Dugan_War Chiefs 03

by Sitting Bull

  On the long ride, he had plenty of time to mull it over. He also had more immediate concerns to attend to. Four Horns was in great pain, but managed to stay on his horse. “I can feel the bullet inside,” he said.

  “Can you ride?”

  “Do I have a choice? We have to find the women and children. We can’t leave them unprotected with the Long Knives on the warpath.”

  The wound had stopped bleeding, and Sitting Bull knew that the herbs he had applied would help it heal and prevent infection, but he wished he had been able to remove the bullet.

  It was near nightfall by the time they found the fugitive Hunkpapas. It had not been as easy as usual to follow them, because there were so few travois, which normally gouged the earth and left a clear path for returning hunters and warriors to follow. The Hunkpapas had gone their own way, leaving the Santee to make their own choices. In the days following the Killdeer Mountain battle, the Sioux regrouped. They kept scouts out to watch for Sully’s column while they tried to reestablish themselves, making new lodges and hunting almost around the clock to replace the pilfered food.

  Camped on the western edge of the badlands, the Hunkpapa were joined by several other bands, including some Brule and Sans Arcs Sioux and even a contingent of Cheyenne. Sitting Bull knew that Sully would not leave on his own, but he wondered whether the Sioux could drive him away, outgunned and desperately in need of supplies as they were.

  Night after night, he talked with the other chiefs, trying to make them see what he had seen at Killdeer Mountain. “They do not fight like we fight,” he told them. “They keep coming, even when one of them is killed. Sometimes when one of our warriors is killed, we take time to mourn, maybe even stop fighting altogether, but the white soldiers never stop. It is like they don’t care what happens to anyone. When a white soldier is killed the others keep on fighting. They walk right past him like he is not even there.”

  “If we have enough warriors, we can defeat them,” Spotted Eagle, one of the Sans Arc chiefs, argued.

  “How many is enough? You saw how many Long Knives there were. There were more of us, many more, and still they drove us away and burned our village.”

  “They have better guns. If we can get such guns, then we can defeat them.”

  “No, it is not just the guns, and not just the numbers. It is the way they fight. They have one leader and they all do what he tells them to do. We don’t fight like that, so we sometimes get confused. It is then easy for them to push us back.”

  “We fight as we have always fought,” Spotted Eagle insisted. “That is not our way to fight.”

  “I think maybe it should be. I think maybe the only way to defeat the Long Knives is to fight the way the Long Knives fight.”

  “Does Sitting Bull want to be the one great war leader like the one the Long Knives have? Is that why he tells us this?” another of the chiefs asked.

  Sitting Bull shook his head. “No, I want only that we consider it, to see if it is something we can learn to do. If it is, then we will have to deal with the question of who should be the one leader.”

  Spotted Tail, the Brule chief, put in, “The Long Knives don’t have just one chief, anyway. A long time ago, it was Harney. Now it is Sully and Sibley. They are told what to do by the Great Father in Washington. They told us that at Fort Laramie when many Lakota touched the pen to the peace paper. The Great Father is not even there when the Long Knives fight against the Sioux, so the Long Knives do what they want, just like the Lakota warriors.”

  Sitting Bull shook his head vigorously. “No. They are told when to stop and when to go. They stop when they are told to, and they go when they are told to. They fight when they are told to, and they fight until they are told to stop fighting.”

  “It is something to think about,” the Brule conceded. “But I don’t think it is something we can do. Besides, if we don’t have the good guns the Long Knives have, it won’t matter whether we fight like they do.”

  “It is the only chance we have,” Sitting Bull insisted.

  It went on like that for days. Sitting Bull was getting frustrated because he knew that he was not getting through to his allies. They were too used to the old ways. And Sitting Bull himself did not yet fully understand what it was he was asking them to do. But he feared that the Lakota would not learn until it was too late to do them any good.

  While the Lakota grappled with their future, Sully’s troops came again, and once more the Lakota were forced to run for their lives. They scattered, Sitting Bull and his Hunkpapas heading southeast, trailing a buffalo herd. But while on the hunt, word came that another wagon train of white settlers was coming, and the Lakota rallied to try and turn it back.

  The train was accompanied by a contingent of troops under the command of Captain James Fisk, and the wary and war-weary Hunkpapas tracked it for several days, hoping to find an opportunity to attack. On September 2, the train was slowed, then halted altogether, by the difficult passage at Deep Creek. It was the opening the Hunkpapa had been waiting for.

  Sitting Bull led a charge against some of the halted wagons, galloping headlong toward a mounted soldier, who quickly drew his revolver to ward off the war chiefs assault. Sitting Bull, ignoring the wild gunfire, rode up to him and tried to wrestle the soldier from his horse. The soldier fired again, and this time the bullet struck Sitting Bull above the left hip, going clean through and passing out through the small of his back.

  Swinging low over the side of his horse to shield himself from another gunshot, he backed away. White Bull had seen what was happening and went to his uncle’s aid, accompanied by Little Assiniboin, Sitting Bull’s adopted younger brother, and another warrior. They managed to lead him safely out of the battle, but he was done for the day.

  The members of the wagon train fought their way along for three days until they found a place to make a stand. They used the wagons to defend themselves, arranging them in a circle and stripping sod to stack along the perimeter for additional protection.

  In the Hunkpapa village was a white woman who had been taken prisoner by the Oglala several weeks before, then traded to a Hunkpapa warrior named Brings Plenty who had taken her as a wife. The Hunkpapa demanded that she write a note to the besieged immigrants, and the paper was then taken and staked on a hill in a forked stick where the white settlers could see it. The paper was used to open negotiations. The Hunkpapa planned to barter the woman, named Fanny Kelly, for supplies. But no one had bothered to consult with Brings Plenty on the matter.

  The besieged immigrants had christened their fortifications Fort Dilts, in honor of one of the troopers slain in the first Sioux attack. Determined to resist, the white troopers dragged their feet in negotiations, offering just some coffee, sugar, and flour. But the Hunkpapas were insistent that they wanted four wagon loads of food in exchange for Fanny Kelly.

  Sitting Bull was recovering from his wound and unable to take part in the first negotiations, which quickly broke off. The Hunkpapas withdrew when word reached them that reinforcements were coming to the aid of the immigrants, and it was decided that it would be prudent to move the Hunkpapa village before they arrived. That much, at least, had been learned from the Killdeer Mountain episode.

  While he recuperated, Sitting Bull had plenty of time to observe Fanny Kelly. She was being treated well, and the women of the village all seemed to like her. She was doing her share of the women’s work, apparently willingly. He realized that she was far more submissive than the Hunkpapa women, and wondered whether it was from fear or just an aspect of her personality. It also made him wonder if all white women were like Fanny Kelly.

  Watching her, he realized how much he missed Light Hair, who had died nearly seven years ago in childbirth, leaving a son, who himself lived only four years. The Lakota ways were hard and took their toll on women and children, as well as the warriors. He had taken other wives after Light Hair, but she was irreplaceable, perhaps because their only child had died and there was nothing left of her exce
pt the memories. Nothing, not the new wives, not the children they had given him, could make up for her loss. She was special, not because she had been the first, but because she had been the best.

  Light Hair had been cheerful and full of spirit. She had argued with him when she thought he was wrong, unlike Fanny Kelly, who never raised her voice to Brings Plenty. Light Hair had laughed and sung, too, even playing practical jokes on him, just as he did on her—and on anyone else who came within reach of his mischievous sense of humor. But Fanny Kelly was not like that at all. She went about her chores without protest, but without a smile, and Sitting Bull knew she was desperately unhappy.

  Other warriors, impressed by her efforts, tried to get Fanny away from Brings Plenty. They tried everything from sweet talk to offering several horses in exchange, but Brings Plenty was more than happy with her and turned away every offer. Now and then, Sitting Bull would sit with her while she worked, trying to teach her the rudiments of the Lakota language. But he was making little progress, and conversation was difficult. He wanted to know what she was thinking, but there was no way for him to ask and no way for her to tell him.

  Soon, delegations of Indians from the agencies came, bearing gifts and trying to ransom the woman. But Brings Plenty was adamant. He would not part with her at any price. Each time one of the delegations was refused, the situation grew tense. There was the constant threat that they would try to remove the captive by force. Sitting Bull wanted to avert bloodshed at all cost and started trying to convince Brings Plenty that he should let the woman go.

  But Lakota democracy was absolute, and Brings Plenty was free to do as he chose. Sitting Bull was faced with two options—he could try to persuade Brings Plenty to surrender Fanny Kelly, or he could take her by force and set her free. One seemed impossible and the other was unpalatable. It would force the warriors to take sides at a time when they could not afford internal dispute. They needed all their hostility for the Long Knives. The woman was becoming a distraction and represented the very real possibility of dividing the village.

  One night he walked to Brings Plenty’s lodge. Invited inside, he sat down and got right to the point. “You should feed the woman well, fatten her up. She is like a bundle of sticks.”

  “Why?” Brings Plenty demanded.

  “Because we will have to send her back to the white men before long.”

  Brings Plenty shook his head. “No. I won’t send her back. She belongs here and no one will take her without my approval.”

  Sitting Bull tried again a few days later but met with no success. Finally, in December, a band of Blackfoot Sioux arrived at the Hunkpapa camp. Their leader was Sitting Bull’s boyhood friend and footracing opponent, Crawler, a huge man who had a fearsome reputation in battle. He was still a good friend to Sitting Bull and told the chief why he had come. “We are here to buy back the white woman,” he said.

  Sitting Bull realized that the time had come. He knew that Crawler would not go home a failure, and he did not want to have to fight his friend—especially over a bundle of sticks. “We will bring her back,” he said. “But you must let me talk to Brings Plenty. I will convince him to let her go.”

  He sent for Brings Plenty. When the warrior arrived, Sitting Bull explained that Crawler had come for Fanny Kelly and would not leave without her. Crawler offered six horses in exchange for the woman’s freedom, but Brings Plenty refused them and stalked back to his lodge.

  Crawler shook his head. “I think we will have to take her by force,” he said.

  Sitting Bull asked for a few moments alone with Brings Plenty and walked to his lodge. Brings Plenty invited him in, but it was obvious that he was determined not to give in. Brings Plenty was sitting on a buffalo robe on the far side of the fire pit. In the flickering light, Sitting Bull saw the reflection of a knife blade on the robe beside him.

  Outside, the Blackfeet were milling around the entrance to the lodge. The Hunkpapa, angry that the Blackfeet would come into their camp and try to tell them what to do, joined them in an ugly mood. Sitting Bull stepped outside when he heard the angry muttering. He raised a hand, and both contingents fell silent.

  “Friends,” he said, “this woman is different from us. She walks a different path, not our path. You can see from her face that she is unhappy and homesick. It is not right that we should keep her here against her will. So I am going to send her back.”

  There was a subdued mutter among the Hunkpapas, but Sitting Bull was adamant. He told Crawler to go inside and bring Fanny Kelly outside. “And tell Brings Plenty I said so,” he added. Then, in a low voice, he warned his friend that Brings Plenty had a knife at his side.

  Crawler entered the lodge and found Brings Plenty and Fanny Kelly seated side by side across from the fire. It was a bitterly cold day, and Crawler leaned forward to warm his hands at the fire.

  “I have come for this woman,” he said.

  “I don’t want your horses,” Brings Plenty insisted.

  “Friend,” Crawler said, “I think you should accept the offer.”

  “Friend,” Brings Plenty countered, giving the word a bit of an edge, “I think I will keep the captive. It is my right.”

  Crawler saw the knife glittering on the buffalo robe and tried once more. Again he was refused.

  He moved still closer to the fire. Suddenly, he drew his revolver, grabbing Fanny Kelly by the shoulder and pulling her behind him. Keeping his revolver trained on Brings Plenty, he backed out of the lodge, where the Hunkpapa were fighting among themselves. But Sitting Bull had gathered the Strong Heart Society warriors and now took command. He had Fanny Kelly escorted to the council lodge, where the council selected several Hunkpapas to accompany the Blackfeet and their captive. It was decided to send a sizable contingent to the white man’s fort, where they would be able to do some trading as well as demonstrate their goodwill by the return of the captive. To make certain there was no trouble, it was decided that Sitting Bull go as head of the Hunkpapa delegation.

  The visit to the fort was uneventful. The Hunkpapas managed to trade for some much-needed powder and lead, but there were no new guns to be had. And Sitting Bull was no closer to forging the coalition he needed. The feud over Fanny Kelly had been disruptive, and it would take time for the divisions to heal.

  Chapter 18

  Missouri River Valley

  1865

  AT THE BEGINNING OF 1865, word started to filter northward to the Hunkpapa camps about a raid on the Cheyenne village of Two Kettles, whose chief was known to be favorably disposed to the white man. At Sand Creek, white soldiers under the command of Colonel John Chivington had destroyed the village without provocation. The casualties ran into the hundreds killed and still more wounded. Most of the dead were women and children, and the soldiers had mutilated the bodies of the women, taking trophies. One soldier was overheard to say that his trophy would make an ideal tobacco pouch, as he severed the breast of a young woman. Instead of scalps, the soldiers took the pubic patches of their female victims and dangled them on poles or hung them from their belts.

  Fleeing survivors poured northward into Lakota territory, and word of the atrocities spread across the plains from village to village. The reaction among the Lakota was predictably mixed. For those chiefs who were already inclined to believe that a war against the Long Knives was unwinnable, the message of Sand Creek was clear—make the best peace you can, now. Young Bear’s Rib, who had succeeded his father as leader of a band of Hunkpapa, was among those who felt that peace was imperative at any price. And he was not alone. Lone Horn, a Miniconjou war leader, was also drawn to the peace faction, as was the Hunkpapa chief Running Antelope.

  These chiefs had originally resisted the white invasion, but they had come to believe that further resistance was futile, and that the longer the war against the Long Knives lasted, the harsher would be the terms of settlement.

  Other chiefs were diametrically opposed to appeasement. Among the Oglala, Red Cloud was determined to drive the wh
ite soldiers from the Powder River country, now the last great source of buffalo. The herds had continued to dwindle under the assault of white hide-hunters and the mindless slaughter by settlers and soldiers passing through buffalo country, who killed hundreds of animals for sport, leaving the carcasses to rot in the sun.

  Two army officers staged a contest to see who could kill the most buffalo in a single day. Taking only the buffalo’s tongues as proof of their kills, together they dropped more than two hundred animals in one day’s hunting.

  But among the Oglala, there was another chief, more implacable even than Red Cloud, and that was Crazy Horse. His single-minded dedication to turning back the white flood would eventually bring Crazy Horse closer and closer to the one man who was as fiercely determined as he—Sitting Bull.

  Because the Hunkpapa were among the most northern of the Lakota, they were in some ways the most insulated from the pressure of immigrants. The wagon trains along the newly opened Bozeman Trail passed to the south of Hunkpapa hunting grounds. But General Sully was adding more forts along the Missouri, probing deeper and deeper into Lakota territory, and leaving sizable garrisons behind. These forts became the focus of Sitting Bull’s resentment, and he was resolved to burn them to the ground and send the white soldiers back where they had come from.

  In addition to Fort Pierre and Fort Sully, in the coming years there were several more targets, including Forts Rice, Berthold, Union, Stevenson, and Buford. Some were little more than trading posts garrisoned with small contingents of troopers, and since the Lakota were increasingly dependent on the white traders for guns and ammunition, they were willing to tolerate their presence. But the military forts—Buford, Stevenson, and Sully—were an affront that Sitting Bull could not ignore.