Crazy Horse and Custer: The Parallel Lives of Two American Warriors (75 page)

After all the ponies were taken, the arms collected, and the people counted, Clark sat down with Billy Garnett and Crazy Horse for a talk. Crazy Horse said he wanted his promised Powder River Agency set up right away. “There is a creek over there they call
Beaver Creek,” he said, referring to a site near present-day Gillette, Wyoming. “There is a big flat west of the headwaters of Beaver Creek. I want my agency put right in the middle of that flat.” The grass was good there, and some buffalo were still in the area. Clark said all that could be decided later—right now he wanted Crazy Horse to go to Washington to meet the Great White Father. Crazy Horse responded that if he couldn’t have Beaver Creek, there was another site near the Bighorns (present-day Sheridan, Wyoming) that would do. Clark replied that there would be no agency for Crazy Horse before he went to Washington—until then he would stay where he was and take orders from Red Cloud. Crazy Horse said he would go to Washington
after
he had his own agency in his own country, as Crook had said he could if he would surrender. Clark wouldn’t give in—go to Washington, he said with some heat, and then get your agency. This was the first in a series of broken promises. For Crazy Horse was now a prisoner, and prisoners have no rights.

The day before Crazy Horse surrendered, Sitting Bull made it to Canada. At dawn the day after Crazy Horse’s surrender, Miles attacked the only hostiles still out, a small camp of Miniconjous, under Lame Deer, near the Tongue River. Miles inflicted a crushing defeat. There were no more Sioux in the Powder River country. The Great Sioux War was over.

And now Crazy Horse was an agency Indian. Deprived of his horse and gun, he no longer was his own man. His wanderings across the Plains, which had taken him five hundred miles and more in every direction from his birthplace at Bear Butte, were over. He was dependent on others for his food, his clothing, his shelter.

All in all, he handled the situation well, his natural dignity forcing his jailers to respect and even stand in awe of him. He and his people ate beef now,
*
and beans and flour, instead of buffalo; they lived under canvas instead of skins; the women wore cloth dresses instead of buckskin; but throughout his four months at the agency Crazy Horse remained what he had always been, a man who asked no favors of anyone and who answered to no one but himself.

The Army officers were, naturally, fascinated by the warrior who had defeated Fetterman, Crook, and Custer, and they flocked to his lodge, with Billy Garnett along to interpret. Crazy Horse didn’t say much, but he impressed most of the officers deeply. He fit their image of what an Indian should be like, especially when contrasted with
Red Cloud, Spotted Tail, and their partisans, who were always engaged in little plots and intrigues for preference and advancement.

One officer reported on a visit he made to Crazy Horse’s lodge, with Frank Grouard along to interpret. “Crazy Horse remained seated on the ground, but when Frank called his name in Dakota, he looked up, arose, and gave me a hearty grasp of his hand. I saw before me a man who looked quite young, not over thirty years old [Crazy Horse was between thirty-five and thirty-seven years old], five feet eight inches high, lithe and sinewy, with a scar in the face. The expression of his countenance was one of quiet dignity, but morose, dogged, tenacious, and melancholy. He behaved with stolidity, like a man who realized he had to give in to Fate, but would do so as sullenly as possible. While talking to Frank, his countenance lit up with genuine pleasure, but to all others he was, at least in the first days of his coming upon the reservation, gloomy and reserved. All Indians gave him a high reputation for courage and generosity. In advancing upon an enemy, none of his warriors were allowed to pass him. He had made hundreds of friends by his charity towards the poor, as it was a point of honor with him never to keep anything for himself, excepting weapons of war. I never heard an Indian mention his name save in terms of respect.”

Lieutenant Clark described Crazy Horse as “remarkably brave, generous and reticent, a pillar of strength for good or evil.” Another officer was sure Crazy Horse would become as great a leader of his people in peace as he had been in war.

Crazy Horse seems to have enjoyed talking about hunting and old battles with the officers. Clark reported to Crook that “Crazy Horse and his people are getting quite sociable, and I reckon I shall have to be considered one of their tribe soon, as I have been invited down to three feasts.”

Red Cloud was terribly jealous of Crazy Horse because of the attention the officers showered upon him and because of the respect which the warriors held for him, and he set about to cut the upstart down to size. Almost as soon as Crazy Horse came in, Red Cloud and his sycophants began to spread rumors that he was planning to break out and go back to the warpath. The officers dismissed such stories out of hand—without horses and guns, what could Crazy Horse do?—but the white agent who controlled the Oglalas via Red Cloud swallowed the rumors whole. This agent, James Irwin, told the Commissioner of Indian Affairs and any officer who would listen that “Crazy Horse manifests a sullen, morose disposition; evidently a
man of small capacity, brought into notoriety by his stubborn will and brute courage. His dictatorial manners, and disregard for the comfort of his people, have caused dissatisfaction among them and his want of truthfulness with the military department has rendered him unpopular with the leading men of his band, who have drawn off from him, and say that they are determined to carry out their promise to General Crook, and their original intention to obey orders and keep the peace.” Throughout this report, one can see the fine hand of that master politician Red Cloud at work—he might almost have dictated it.

During this period Irwin worked on Crazy Horse to persuade him to go to Washington to see the Great White Father. The officers, too, urged him to make the trip. No, said Crazy Horse, not until he had his own agency west of the Black Hills, in the center of Sioux territory. Always the response was the same—first the trip, then the agency. In late May, Crook came to Red Cloud Agency to meet with the chiefs about the trip. To his great irritation, Crazy Horse refused to attend the council. What good was a Sioux delegation to Washington if Crazy Horse wasn’t along? Crook left, disgusted, after giving orders that everyone at the agency should keep working on Crazy Horse.

Crazy Horse’s closest white friend was Major V. T. McGillicuddy, the post surgeon, who had successfully treated Black Shawl for tuberculosis. (The Red Cloud people even made a fuss about this, saying Crazy Horse should have stuck to Indian medicine men; Crazy Horse replied that they had done his wife no good and he would try anything.) McGillicuddy had two or three long talks with Crazy Horse and he gave a verbatim report on what must have been the longest speech Crazy Horse ever made. It is suspect as a genuine document for precisely that reason. With that caveat, however, the following is McGillicuddy’s report on what Crazy Horse said to him:

“His complaint regarding the coming of the white man was, ‘We did not ask you white men to come here. The Great Spirit gave us this country as a home. You had yours. We did not interfere with you. The Great Spirit gave us plenty of land to live on and buffalo, deer, antelope and other game; but you have come here; you are taking my land from me; you are killing off our game, so it is hard for us to live. Now you tell us to work for a living, but the Great Spirit did not make us to work, but to live by hunting. You white men can work if you want to. We do not interfere with you, and again you say, why do you not become civilized? We do not want your civilization!
We would live as our fathers did, and their fathers before them.’”

Like the other whites, McGillicuddy urged Crazy Horse to go to Washington. Crazy Horse replied that he “was not hunting for any Great Father; his father was with him, and there was no Great Father between him and the Great Spirit.”

By early July 1877, however, Crazy Horse was beginning to weaken. For the first time in his life, he was bored. There was nothing to do at Red Cloud Agency, and he wanted an agency of his own in good hunting territory—the little stringy beef he got at Camp Robinson was a poor substitute for juicy buffalo ribs roasted over an open fire. The white soldiers, whom he trusted, kept telling him that he could move to Wyoming as soon as he returned from Washington. Crazy Horse decided he would have to go. He began dropping by Billy Garnett’s place to ask questions about the trip. What was it like, riding on a train? How long did it take to get to the Great Father? How did you eat? Relieve yourself? What did you do when you got there? Crazy Horse had Billy teach him how to use a fork, so that he would not embarrass the Oglalas when he sat at a table for a feast with the Great White Father.

Now that Crazy Horse showed a willingness to co-operate, the agents couldn’t do enough for him. They promised to allow Crazy Horse and his people to go on a big buffalo hunt on the Powder River.
†
When? Soon, soon. On July 27, 1877, Indian Inspector Benjamin Shapp held a council to make plans for the Washington trip. At the conclusion, he announced that he would provide enough cattle for a great feast. Young Man Afraid, working as always to hold the Oglalas together, suggested that it be held at Crazy Horse’s lodge, thus making Crazy Horse the giver of the feast. It would help integrate him into agency life. No one objected, but Red Cloud and two or three others abruptly left the council. That night two Indians called on agent Irwin. They said that Red Cloud was greatly dissatisfied at this development; Crazy Horse had only recently come in and there was no reason at all why he should be allowed to give a feast. Red Cloud wanted Irwin to know that Crazy Horse was unreconstructed and would cause trouble at the first opportunity. Red Cloud also warned that if Crazy Horse were given horses and guns and allowed to take his warriors off on a hunt, he would never return.

Spotted Tail, back on his own agency, took up the refrain. Like
Red Cloud, he regarded Crazy Horse as a troublemaker who had brought much grief and misery down on the Sioux because of his intransigence. He too made solemn warnings—if his nephew were allowed to go to the Powder River, he would never return to the agency. And so the white authorities called off the feast, and the buffalo hunt too.

Still Red Cloud was not done with Crazy Horse. He did not want Crazy Horse to go to Washington, to be feasted and petted by the United States Government, made into a big man, perhaps elevated to the chieftainship of all the Sioux (rumor had it that the government intended just that; like all concentration camps, the Red Cloud Agency was a breeding ground for wild rumors). So Red Cloud’s lieutenants began to whisper to Crazy Horse that if he went to Washington, the government would put him into chains and ship him off to an island prison off the Florida coast. (They were quite right about this point—Crook planned to send Crazy Horse to a prison cell on the Dry Tortugas, a thought too painful for the mind to hold.) Red Cloud also arranged to send a young woman to live in Crazy Horse’s lodge. Garnett described her as “a half-blood, not of the best frontier variety, an invidious and evil woman.” But she was young and pretty, and Crazy Horse took her in. She too filled his mind with poison, convincing him that the Washington journey was a trap. But the real trap was the one Red Cloud had been setting to keep him out of Washington, and Crazy Horse fell into it. He told the officers he had changed his mind—he would not go to Washington.

The Nez Percés, meanwhile, had broken out of their reservation and headed toward eastern Montana. They were defeating everything the Army sent against them. Crook was ordered to round them up, and he came to Red Cloud Agency to enlist Oglalas to help him. Lieutenant Clark tried to get Crazy Horse to join up as an Indian scout, but Crazy Horse refused. Clark kept pestering him, promising a horse, a uniform, and a new repeating rifle—strong inducements, indeed. Still Crazy Horse replied, “I came here for peace. No matter if my own relatives pointed a gun at my head and ordered me to change that word I would not change it.”

Crazy Horse’s warriors, however, were signing on as scouts, proudly riding through the agency with their new horses and guns. And Clark kept putting the pressure on Crazy Horse. “I have only my tent and my will,” Crazy Horse told Clark. “You got me to come here and you can keep me here by force if you choose, but you cannot make me go anywhere that I refuse to go.” Clark persisted, until
Crazy Horse, exasperated, snapped that he would go to the Powder River with Crook and fight until there wasn’t a Nez Percé left.
‡

He never meant it. Crazy Horse was convinced that Crook was lying again, that Crook’s real intention was to campaign against Sitting Bull. On August 31, the day after Crazy Horse said he would become a scout, Clark prepared to march off with the Oglalas to join Crook to fight the Nez Percés. Crazy Horse told his warriors to stay home—it was unthinkable that they should fight Sitting Bull—and threatened to take his people and head north if Clark persisted.

It was an idle threat, but so frightening was Crazy Horse’s reputation that it terrified the whites. Lieutenant Colonel L. P. Bradley, commanding at Camp Robinson, telegraphed Sheridan, “There is a good chance of trouble here and there is plenty of bad blood. I think the departure of the scouts will bring on a collision here.” Sheridan then telegraphed Crook, ordering him to interrupt his preparations for the Nez Percé campaign and hurry to Camp Robinson to straighten things out. Sheridan also ordered Bradley to hold the scouts at Camp Robinson until Crook arrived.

Crook got to the camp on the morning of September 2, 1877. He ordered all the Indians to move their camps to the base of the white butte (site of present-day Crawford, Nebraska), where he intended to hold a big council. Crazy Horse refused to go. He told his people he wanted nothing to do with Crook. He Dog disagreed. He told the village, “All who love their wife and children, let them come across the creek with me [to Crook’s council]. All who want their wife and children to be killed by the soldiers, let them stay where they are.” Most began packing up. Crazy Horse asked He Dog to come to his tipi; there Crazy Horse admitted that he was expecting trouble but he wouldn’t go looking for it. He would stay where he was and hope to be left alone. He Dog asked, “Does this mean that you will be my enemy if I move across the creek?”