“So what you plannin’ to do now?”
“If things keep going in this direction, I thought I’d speak to Fleming about working as a scout and translator. I figured he could use one if he tries to parley with them to get back on peaceful terms, and I surely didn’t want to be off in the wilds alone if those Indians went on the warpath.”
“I doubt there’ll be any parleyin’. It seems to me as if the Army’s gettin’ prepared to handle things for good this time.”
“You think the other tribes and bands will get riled up and form big alliances if Fleming goes after the Brules and Minneconjous for that Grattan mess? From how the Indians see it, Grattan and his troops fired first and spilled the first blood: leastwise, that’s what I heard some of the soldiers saying. It seems to me it was foolish of Grattan to gun down Chief Brave Bear over a stray cow. I guess you learn plenty in your store from them.”
“Yep, I hear plenty of talk, but some of it ain’t nothin’ but boastin’. I doubt half of them soldiers really know what they’ll be up against if those Indians do ally together like you said. I was in the Army years ago and I know how fierce and powerful they can be, ‘cause we had plenty of nasty run-ins with them, especially those Oglalas. ‘Course they’ve been settled down for three years, so maybe they’re rusty with fightin’.”
Chase shook his head. “I wouldn’t count on it; I bet those bucks still practice every day and I bet they’ve missed raiding and warring; I bet they’re eager to fight again. Since you’re ex-Army, you know what they think about retaliation and glory coups. If I was Fleming, I would be careful about challenging them.”
The man glanced around to assure they were alone before he whispered, “If Flemin’ was as smart as he should be for a post commander in a hot spot, he wouldna sent Grattan to handle that mess. ‘Course he wouldna been much better at it since he had a run-in with Minneconjous last year. I’d be surprised if the Army don’t hold him partly to blame for that fiasco.”
“You could be right,” Chase concurred. “I’ll be hanging around for a while longer, so I’ll come over to see you. If I hear anything important, I’ll drop it in your ear. I hope you’ll do the same for me. Who knows, if things get to looking too bad, we both might want to leave this area?”
“Not me, Martin, ‘cause everythin’ I have is tied up in my store. With more trouble brewin’, nobody would want to buy her, least not for a decent price, and I ain’t givin’ her away. And I ain’t handin’ my stuff over to no Indian if they attack here. I’d burn my store to the ground first.”
“I’d be sure to keep my eyes and ears open and my rifle loaded, ‘cause Fort Laramie would have to be one of their main targets if they go on the warpath soon.” As Chase glanced around, he said, “There’s Fleming on his porch. I think I’ll go have a little talk with him about my offer. I’ll be seeing you around. Stay alert,” he advised again before they parted.
After Chase joined Lieutenant Hugh Fleming—who was leaning against a post on his porch and gazing out over the fort’s structures and his working troops—he related his request to sign on as a translator and scout, but the officer told him it was useless to speak with the Indians about the situation. As they conversed, Chase grew more and more pessimistic about the situation. Fleming was not even willing to have Indian Agent Thomas Twiss act as an intermediary—the lieutenant saw no point in negotiating at all.
What concerned Chase the most was that Fleming and the Government totally blamed the Indians—the Lakotas mainly—for the current hostilities and for what the Whites were calling the “Grattan Massacre.” It sounded to Chase as if the Army was overlooking the crucial fact that their officer had initiated the conflict. Fleming told him repeatedly that the Army must regain control of the area and Indians fast by any means necessary.
On Thursday, September fourteenth, Chase learned it would not be Lieutenant Hugh Fleming who carried out that directive because he was replaced by Major William Hoffman, who arrived and took command, along with additional troops and weapons, and more were expected soon.
On the next day, as Chase observed the big change in leadership and tried to assess Hoffman’s character and to learn his plans and strategies, shocking news came that Spotted Tail and his Brules and Oglalas had attacked a mail coach twenty-two miles from the fort, murdered three men aboard, injured another one, and robbed the stage of ten thousand dollars in gold.
Chase realized that was like a slap in the face to the new commander, who went after the “hostiles” immediately with a large and heavily armed unit of soldiers. The fort was placed on intense alert in case the robbery and slayings were bait to lure the forces away for an attack, one which didn’t come, to the relief of those left behind and on guard. Chase reasoned it was unwise to shadow the unit or to offer to ride with them as a scout and interpreter until he discovered more about Hoffman. Yet, he was disappointed in Spotted Tail for calling down the wrath of the Army on the Lakotas, as holding up a stage and slaying nonmilitary men was hazardous to all Indians.
Chase waited until the soldiers returned from recovering the bodies before he rode to where the attack had occurred to scout it for signs of Spotted Tail’s path of escape. It was obvious from ground clues and from how long the unit had been gone that Hoffman did not pursue the band, and Chase wondered why. He followed the Brules’ trail for many miles until he realized the Indians were riding hard and fast and he probably couldn’t catch up to them. Even if he did overtake the band, they might not believe who and what he was and might slay or injure him. It seemed best at that point to return to the fort to see what type of retaliation Hoffman was planning, upon whom, and when.
By midafternoon the following day, Chase had gleaned certain expected facts from soldiers and the amiable sutler: troops were assigned to escort and guard all stages, Army supply wagons, and wagon trains. New outposts—though small and crude and in constant jeopardy—were built along the road for protection and to provide horses so the teams would always be fresh enough to outrun any peril. His worst discovery was that word had arrived that Secretary of War Jefferson Davis wanted rapid reprisals for all attacks and wanted peace restored in the territory as soon as and in any way possible; Jefferson warned that if Major Hoffman and his replacements could not achieve those two goals and within a limited time span, he would send General William—“By God, I’m for battle, not peace”—Harney to the area to obtain them. The officials in Washington believed the “Grattan Massacre” was caused by the Sioux seeking to steal annuity goods, a belief that Chase knew was inaccurate and dangerous. But who would believe him? After all, the Army had an eyewitness account of the incident, although Private Cuddy was no longer alive to verify it. Since the Army knew who and what had precipitated the bloody event, why was it so determined to solely blame and fiercely punish the Indians involved? Was it, Chase worried, only an excuse to attack and subjugate all Indians since the peace treaty had failed to do so? Was the Government willing to slaughter any and all Indians—men, women, children—in order to confiscate this territory?
Since Hoffman did not want it on his military record that the Army had replaced him as they had his predecessor for failure to perform his duty, Chase concluded the officer would make any and every attempt to resolve the dispute and fast.
Before dusk settled across the land, Chase was en route to the war council site, where he was certain Spotted Tail and his own family were heading at that same time. He wished things had turned out differently at Fort Laramie, wished a new peace treaty was in the making, and wished he were heading home for a reunion with his beloved wife.
Chapter
Fifteen
On September eighteenth, when Chase approached the White River site, which was located many miles northwest of the enormous span of the Sand Hills, two scouts from another Lakota band halted him. He had prepared himself for such an encounter by wearing the gift shirt from his wife’s family, a breechclout, leggings, and moccasins. He also had ridden up at a slow pace and had given
the peace and friend signals as soon as he saw the men coming toward him, their weapons at the ready. In Lakota, he identified himself as the son of Chief Rising Bear and said he was there to join his father and people for the war council meeting which was set to begin on the following day. The scouts eyed him with suspicion and doubt, as it was obvious he was half white and was using a wasicun saddle. As the alert men glanced all around him, he assured them he was alone. The encounter reminded him of a similar incident with War Eagle months ago. Though it was dismaying, he had to accept the fact his White heritage would always be conspicuous and questioned. Finally one motioned him onward to travel between them, their sharp lances pointing at him in warning.
The two braves rode with him the remainder of the distance until he found his father, War Eagle, River’s Edge, and twenty Red Shields who were already there and awaiting the arrival of the rest of their allies, as were many other Oglala groups and various members of the other six tribes of the Lakota branch of the huge Dakota Nation. He was relieved his people were present to confirm his claims, else he might have been forced to spend the coming night in bonds until they were proven to be authentic. As soon as the scouts were satisfied he had spoken the truth, though Chase sensed lingering curiosity about his lineage, they returned to their lookout posts.
Chase dismounted and joined his family and friends near their campfire, as the Plains weather was chilling fast at dusk at that time of year. He was happy when his father stood and embraced him, his brother and wife’s brother clasped wrists with him and smiled, and others greeted him with respect and affection, as he knew he was being observed by allies nearby. Even so, their campsite was secluded enough for private talk. He was told Wind Dancer and war chief Blue Owl had remained behind to protect their people and escort them from the grasslands to their wintering grounds in the sacred Black Hills. Nahemana also had stayed with them, as the journey was too long and arduous for the elderly shaman.
Chase was a little surprised and greatly disappointed to see Two Feathers among his group, as that meant—along with War Eagle—that two of their four Sacred Bow Carriers were far away from their band at the same time, and it also meant his cousin would probably seek sly means of harassing and shaming him before their allies. He also knew that Two Feathers would speak and vote for immediate war, and would attempt to persuade others in all bands to do the same. He was glad when his silent cousin sat on the fringe of their gathering, though it was obvious to him that Two Feathers was listening alertly to all Chase said.
As they ate, Chase related what he had learned since Bent Bow had carried his initial message to them. Most were astonished to hear of the many events taking place at or near Fort Laramie; in particular, the aggressive actions of Spotted Tail and the Army’s heavy reinforcements worried them. When he was done speaking, many praised his deed, then asked questions or made comments about his findings. All the while, Chase furtively noticed, Two Feathers remained quiet and watchful.
Afterward, Chase walked and spoke with River’s Edge and War Eagle, as he wanted to check on his wife and to hear the camp news since his departure weeks ago. He was relieved to learn the summer buffalo hunt had been completed without any trouble and was a large success, so they had ample food, hides, and other needs for the winter season. Since the war parley was being held at that time, the annual gathering of the Seven Council Fires of the Lakota for their combined powwow had been canceled, a genial occasion which would have divulged his identity to other Lakota bands.
As soon as those and other facts were disclosed to him, as such matters must be covered before personal ones, Chase asked. “How is Dawn? Does Broken Lance act as her hunter and protector as he promised me?”
“Your cousin keeps his word to you, my brother and friend,” River’s Edge said. “Your wife works hard and well, but she also misses you and fears for your safety. Her heart will sing with joy to look upon your face again.”
“As mine will sing loud and sweet to gaze upon your sister’s.”
“I do not know of such feelings to this moon,” War Eagle jested, “but they must be powerful, for your eyes glow with flames like the fire’s and your voice becomes soft as the rabbit’s fur when you speak of her. If I had known Dawn possessed large magic, I would have looked her way before you took her as your mate. But even before she became my sister when she joined to you, she was as a sister to me, for she and Hanmani were as close as family.”
Chase smiled and advised, “Allow Wakantanka to choose your mate for you as He did for me and Wind Dancer and you will find great happiness and victory in your joining.”
“I hope that does not happen before we push all Whites and other enemies from our territory and these are Lakota lands once more,” War Eagle said in a serious tone, then grew silent as he experienced a strange and potent chill racing over his body. It was as if he were being sent a portentous message which he could not grasp.
Chase witnessed his half-brother’s reaction to his own words but did not comment on it. “If we allow the Great Spirit to guide our steps, War Eagle, we must be willing to walk the path He chooses for us and at His pace. I did not expect to meet Dawn and join to her this season, though she was shown to me in the sacred dream which summoned me home. It was the same with Wind Dancer; Dewdrops walked into his life and heart when he did not expect such a glorious event. Perhaps it will be the same for you. It is hard for me to be away from Dawn in times of great peril, but it must be so.”
River’s Edge regarded Chase’s grave expression and tone and asked, “From what you have seen and heard, Cloud Chaser, do you believe the White-eyes will ride the warpath soon?”
“Yes, my friend and brother,” Chase replied somberly, “for the Bluecoats and White leaders believe they must not lose face before the Indians and their people, and they prepare for battle. The raids of Spotted Tail and others will only provoke them to challenge us faster and fiercer, when we need many suns to prepare to confront and defeat them. Come. We must sleep, for the council meets on the next sun when those here will speak and vote for the journey to our destinies. May the Great Spirit watch over us when it rises and lead us to the right path to ride.”
At dusk on the next day and after more Lakotas had arrived and all had eaten their evening meals, a considerable crowd of seasoned warriors and observant young braves gathered around a bright campfire. Each of the band chiefs present sat in a vast circle with his companions close behind him. War Eagle and Cloud Chaser were positioned slightly to the right and left behind Rising Bear, with the remaining Red Shields clustered nearby.
Eight Hunkpapas sat around a large kettle drum beyond the throng. They struck its taut surface with willow sticks, and sent forth melodic vocables with bowed heads; their moods and expressions indicated reverence instead of gaity. Assorted warriors, some clad only in daily buckskin wear and others attired in ceremonial regalia, danced around the center blaze and stirred up dust and dead grass from the dry ground. Most moved around the flames in rhythmic patterns while others leapt and whirled and stamped their feet in a near frenzy. Some chanted; some sent forth whoops and yips; some remained silent; and some prayed in muffled voices. The loudest and most active dancers also waved hatchets or wooden clubs over their heads as if slaying invisible foes or evil spirits. The rest of the men sat cross-legged on folded hides or rush mats and observed the preparatory custom, which was followed by a Brule shaman’s prayer to summon their Creator to witness the crucial meeting and to bless it and them in their endeavors.
Next, a sacred redstone pipe was smoked for the Making Of Brothers ritual to signify their friendship and unity in the grave matter that loomed before them. After the last man drew deeply upon its stem and exhaled a gray haze, the pipe was returned to Tatanka Yotanka—Sitting Bull—shaman of the Hunkpapas. A leather pouch was passed from chief to chief in the front circle to see who would speak first and be in charge of the parley. That temporary rank was earned by Mahpialuta—Red Cloud—of the Old Smoke Oglala band when he withdr
ew the only black stone from inside the bag.
Chase went on full alert to study and listen to the esteemed chief. Red Cloud, an impressive warrior with a wide mouth and broad chin, was strongly opposed to enemy intrusion. As with each man who would follow him, the older man stood in the center of the human enclosure and near the fire so he could be heard and seen by all.
“The Whites have not kept their promise to us in the treaty,” Red Cloud said. “Broken Hand told us they would give us trade goods for fifty circles of the seasons, but they changed it to ten after our chiefs signed. Before he walked the Ghost Trail and the snows left our land, he told many about that change, and some agreed to it; my band refused, as did others. If they do not have to honor their treaty words, we do not have to honor ours.”
As the light of a full moon beamed down on everyone, Chase’s attention shifted to Little Thunder of the Brules, who had been embroiled in the “Grattan Massacre” and was known by Indians to harass settlers along the emigrant trail. It was also known that Little Thunder was cunning and deceitful where soldiers and traders were involved; the chief often pretended to be peaceful and friendly—as when he saved Bordeau’s life and those of the trader’s employees—but, in truth, he hated Whites, detested their encroachment, and wanted them gone from the territory. If that proved impossible, the man wanted to dupe and use the Whites to his benefit. Little Thunder was an odd-looking man: he had a large nose, droopy folds beneath his eyes, cropped-off bangs across his forehead and around his crown, and the rest of his long braids were wrapped in red trade cloth.
“Who gave the Army, Great White Chief, Broken Hand Fitzpatrick, and the one called Mitchell the power to part our land into territories and to order us not to fight our enemies?” Little Thunder asked in a sarcastic tone. “I say they did not and do not possess that power, so the treaty is no good.”
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