Lakota (21 page)

A party of soldiers rode alongside. These were recruits, and their young, worried faces betrayed the dread tales of Lakota butchery shared by the veterans.

"Them's Sioux!" a three-stripe had shouted.

Fear had instantly flashed across the young soldiers' faces. It was clear testimony to the bad heart tales kindled among the wasicuns. Even as the thieves stole Paha Sapa, they spoke of the murdering Indians who killed women and children. These same people shot Lakotas without thinking—killed people on their own land. The wasicuns truly dwelled in a crazed place. Their world had no circle, no heart.

The Lakotas were met at the approaches to the fort by a silver-bar chief who shouted angrily that here was a band of hostiles to be herded back to the reservation.

"Where's that fool interpreter, Jenkins?" the chief howled at a two-stripe. Hinkpila then appeared.

"Lieutenant?" Louis asked.

"Ask 'em why they've come!" the soldier chief shouted. "Tell 'em we've got to take their guns and get 'em along home."

"Talk to them yourself," Louis answered sharply. "This is Buffalo Heart, my Brule Sioux brother. I suspect he's come to hunt buffalo. The treaty gives him that right, Lieutenant. He's wintered here often, and he speaks good English. He's entitled, by the way, to wear a bonnet of thirty feathers to mark the coups he's counted. Most of 'em's been on white soldiers."

"We come peacefully," Tacante then announced. "I would share the buffalo hunt with Hinkpila, my brother. Here is Badger, Mouse, my wife, Deer Woman, and there are the others."

"We've heard of much killing in the Black Hills," the officer said, staring with cold eyes at his visitors. "You take up such nonsense here, I'll see you punished."

"You would punish me, wasicun?" Itunkala cried. "It's not me who's broken the treaty and stolen Paha Sapa."

Tacante silenced his brother, then turned to Louis.

"There will be no trouble from my people," Tacante said, folding his arms. "We are going to hunt soon. I would show my brother how the little ones are growing, and I would see my sister."

Louis insisted Tacante spoke straight.

"The whole bunch looks like they'd as soon slit my throat as chew a carrot," the soldier retorted.

"He'd kill you on the battlefield, sure enough," Louis agreed. "But not here. He's my guest, and you can be certain he is welcome."

The soldiers then went about their labors, and Tacante followed Hinkpila to the trading post his father had built. Ren6 Le Doux was gone now, headed to California with his wife and the younger children. Louis and Philip, the spectacled one, remained to operate the store.

After helping the Lakotas erect their lodges behind a horse corral, Louis led the way inside the small house he'd built behind the store. Tacante greeted Wicatankala, his sister, and held the small son and daughter called Tom and Grace.

"They grow strong," Tacante observed when little Grace gripped his finger tightly with her small hand.

"Ah, it's the children keep our hearts young, you know."

"I pray our sons will share the buffalo hunt as we have."

"Yes," Louis agreed as he led the way to a back room.

"But it's a bad time to come here now, eh?"

"The soldiers are angry," Louis explained. "There was almost a fight at Red Cloud's agency this spring, and reinforcements have been sent out to Fort Fetterman."

Tacante frowned. He knew, of course, of the bad feelings exchanged at Red Cloud. As for the new fort built where the stolen road met Platte River, Tacante had been told of how it was named for the boastful eagle chief killed on the hill of the hundred slain. Strange that the sodiers should make heroes out of foolish chiefs!

"Crazy Horse's in the Big Horn country, I hear," Louis said, trying to break the silence. "You've ridden with him often."

"I will again," Tacante answered.

"Be a hard fight this time, Misun."

Tacante stared at Hinkpila. When had even Mastincala been a little brother? There was a fond, almost fatherly glow in Louis's eyes, and Tacante let the word stand.

"I wish to be a man of peace," Tacante said, "but everywhere the wasicuns steal our land, slaughter Tatanka, our uncle. I starve myself for visions, but none come. There's nothing left but to seek the high country where Thunderbird flaps his wings."

"Tacante, my brother, there can be no more fighting. Look around you. Listen as the iron horse thunders past Platte River. Look at the towns rising from the prairie. Our father, Hinhan Hota, knows it's hopeless. He's set aside his lance. Can't you?"

"My medicine comes from the heart of the people," Tacante explained. "I can never be a man to look to myself. If Wakan Tanka says I must take up the warrior trail, then I will go."

"Won't be a Powder River fight this time," Louis warned. "Not with these new rifles. The soldiers have Catling guns that shoot hundreds of bullets in an instant. No Lakota charge can survive that. Winter will find you alone on the plains. Who will feed the little ones? Don't ride to your death, Misun."

"I only go to hunt," Tacante said, gripping Hinkpila's hands. "And if I die, perhaps Itunkala will bring my sons to be raised by you in the old way."

"The old way's dead," Louis said, sighing.

"Then I am dead, too," Tacante replied mournfully.

"It's a sad world without brave heart hunts, Tacante."

"Full of blind, heartless people."

"Philip can manage the store a bit. I can spare some time to hunt our uncle Tatanka."

"It will be a remembered hunt."

"One of the last," Louis said sorrowfully.

"Yes, I fear," Tacante replied.

Louis rode along on the buffalo hunt, but they had poor success. Tacante had no spirit dreams, and Tatanka proved elusive. Finally the brother-friends settled for hunting elk in the hills.

"The good hunting days are behind us," Louis said finally as he saddled his horse and prepared to return to the fort. "Be careful, Misun," he added, passing into Tacante's hands two boxes of precious shells for the Winchester.

As Louis vanished behind the far horizon, Tacante felt a chill in spite of the blazing summer sun. Again he built the sweat lodge, and as the steam choked the bitterness from his heart, Tacante prayed for Wakan Tanka's help.

"I'm nothing," he cried. "I'm dust on the hillside."

He then climbed the nearby mountain and fasted three days. As he cut the flesh on his chest and danced, singing brave heart songs, he prayed for a vision.

Tatanka came at last to his dreams. Bull Buffalo limped across a plain littered with the bleaching bones of his thousand brothers. A woeful cry filled the air.

"Gone are sacred buffalo," the words called. "No more do my thunder hoofs shake the plains. The two-legged creatures have struck me down. Now comes the starving."

The words echoed through Tacante's dream, shaking him awake. He rose, light-headed, feeling as though a wall of gloom was falling upon him.

He spoke only to Hokala of the dreaming.

"Yes, Brother, it's a sad day for the Lakotas," Badger remarked grimly. "Long have I carried the lance of the Tokalas. Soon I will stake it in the ground and fight my last battle."

But there was good hunting still in the Big Horn country. The stolen road was quiet, and many elk and antelope grew fat on the good grass. The drying racks were full, and many fine robes waited to stave off the chills of winter.

Tacante soon merged his small band with the Oglala camps of his old friend, Sunkawakan Witkotkoke. The Big Horn country was full of Lakotas, and there were many Dakotas and Sahiyelas, as well. In spite of the deep snows and the frigid winds that came that winter, warmth flooded the lodges of the people. Old friends shared brave heart tales, and the young men boasted of their fine ponies and sure aim. Winter, too, passed.

Snow still clung to the earth when Crazy Horse moved his camp to Powder River. Other bands were nearby, and for once the people felt safe. They were far from Platte River and the wasicun forts. There was good food to eat. Fires warmed the lodges and cast off winter's gloom.

Tacante was enjoying a rare contentment when the camp crier announced the arrival of visitors. The Heart rushed out to see who had come. His face lit with a smile when he beheld Hinkpila clumsily dismount from an overburdened mule. With Louis was the spectacled brother Philip.

"Have you heard?" Louis called. "The army's orders?"

"We've heard nothing," Tacante answered. "Come inside. You are frozen and sure to need a warm drink."

Louis entered the lodge, but even as Hehaka worked to remove his frozen boots, the trader hurried to explain.

"It's General Crook," he said. "He's come to drive the hostiles back to the reservation."

"Back?" Tacante asked. "Reservation?"

"Was bound to happen, I suppose," Louis grumbled. "The peace commissioners couldn't make a new treaty, so they've reread the old one. Now, they say, all these lands beyond the Black Hills are needed for white settlers. It's time the Sioux take up farming on their reservation in Dakota. Those not at the agencies by January are considered hostile."

"January," Tacante said, recalling the strange wasicun names for the winter moons.

"Yes, it's past that now," Louis replied. "There's an army on the march. You have to hurry."

"Hurry where?" Itunkala asked, offering Louis a cup of hot bark tea. "This is our home."

"No, they've stolen Powder River and the Big Horns, too," Louis declared. "Too many to fight, Misun. Far too many."

"You say we must go back," Tacante said, considering the words. "Back to an agency that has never been home? What of Sunkawakan Witkotkoke? He's never lived there. This is the place where my sons will grow tall in the old knowledge. You say there are soldiers coming. Wouldn't they kill us anyway? They did at Blue Creek."

"I'd ride ahead and tell them you were coming in peace."

"Hinkpila, my brother, who would have ears for your words? It's not possible. The horses are hungry from winter starving, and the little ones are weak. I can't go. Better to fight than to watch the children freeze in their pony drags."

"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.

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.