Sweet Savage Surrender (38 page)

"There ain't such a thing."

"Oh yes there is.  They seem kinda peaceful to me
, these Indians
ain't hurtin' nobody.
”
  There was a pause.  "Ya know I don't rightly know just how he is gonn
a justify it, them having taken
refuge under the governor's proclamation and all
.
But then I guess it is a technicality.  They really aren't directly at the fort, but forty miles outside.  That's how
Chivington will get around it, I suppose.
Old Chivington is gonna find himself some Indians
, mark my words
.  He plans to attack the Indians at Sand Creek.  The ones outside our fort."

Chapter Forty
             

John and Sam stood in frozen silen
ce, listening to the two men. 
When at last they were out of earshot,
John gave vent to his rage.
"I'll kill him!"  he  whispered, his entire body trembling.  "If what they say is true
,
I'll shoot that bastard before he gets the chance to even go near that camp.
  I'll ride out there and...."

"And do what?  What can one man do against six hundred?  If he intends to make war on that camp
,
then where can they run?"  Sam gripped John's shoulders hard. "Think John.  If you go racing out of here
,
you'll be
court-martialed
before you can blink an eye.  Wh
at good can you do Skyraven?"

"I can warn he
r people."

"And then what?  If they fight back
,
even more will be killed.  Chivington is probably just
talking and t
hose soldier
s just misunderstood.  We
are civilized, after all
.
You can't leave the fort without condemning yourself to a hell of a bad time.  These th
ings take care of themselves."

"No, Sam, they don't."  In frus
tration he flung out his arms.
"Look at what's happened.  Chivington's
Colorado
troops have been sent out to punish the warrior tribes
,
but with a combination of cruelty and stupidity
,
they have a
ttacked unoffending Indians who
counterattacked in
retaliation.  Why not again?"

"Why not find out for yourself what is going to happen ins
tead of depending on
hearsay
?"

Find out for himself?  That
seemed
to be
good advice
.
With that thought in mind
,
John made his way at once to Chivington's headquarters.  There he found a few of the other officers waiting and listened in on their conv
ersations.

"Chivington has thrown a cordon of pickets around the trading post with orders that no one is allowed to leave under penalty of d
eath," one  officer was saying. “Lest the
Ind
ia
ns be warned.”

"Sedgwick is certainly making his feelings known.  He met the members of the "third" and welcomed them heartily, saying openly that he felt the Indians should be punished and that he would have
attacked
them l
ong ago had he had the force."

"If you ask me
,
Sedgwick will prove his true colors.  He's be
en an Indian hater all along."

"He said he was eager for the troops at
Fort
Lyon
to join in, every man of which he claimed would go.  But I don't cotton much t
o killing peaceful Indians."

As Chivington walked up the steps
,
each officer to a man quieted.  Ah, but Chivington looked smug,
John
thought angrily.  Well, it would be seen  just what was going to be done.   Surely the sane men here would refuse any controversial orders.  He waited for Chivington to tell him to leave, particularly since he'd made an enemy of the man by writing that letter to his father, but strangely Chivington greeted him cordially.  Indeed, John was actually invited to attend
the
meeting wherein the plan to attack the Indians was going to be discussed
.  H
e could only su
p
pose that Chivington thought to get some sort of perver
se satisfaction from his presenc
e.  Or perhaps it was to keep
an eye on him.  Whatever it was
, John followed the other officers into C
hivington's conference room.

Events moved all too quickly.  Soon
,
the
cigar-filled
room was
reminiscent of and Indian Camp, the tobacco smoke floating up like Indian smoke signals.
John found himself wishing he knew that Indian way of sending messages
, for he would have
gone to the top of the tall
est tower and done just that.
Instead he leaned back in his hard wooden chair and listened, praying all the while that his worst fears would never come
to pass. 
Regrettably
they  did, for Chivington did
ind
eed plan to attack the
Ind
ia
ns at Sand Creek.

"An eye for an eye," he exclaimed
, hovering over the assemblage like some evil angel of death.  "The Indians have spent the summer and autumn making trouble.  Now they shou
ld be punished."

John stood up.  "I agree," John said slowly, "that there have been brutal attacks on whites by Indians but not by
these
tribes."

"It doesn't matter.  The example will be made so that these rampaging savages will be taught a lesson," Chivington said coldly. 
"Besides, it has
been proven that the Arapahos and
Cheyenne
are responsibl
e for some of the atrocities."

"Not
these
Cheyenne
and Arapaho!  You don't punish peaceful Indians for what the hostile ones have done.
”
 

J
ohn sat back down and watched as some of the others took their turn at arguing with the colonel.  Captain Soule, who
likewise
abhorred
the plan to engage in the campaign
,
backed John up.  As the discussions raged
,
John found that he was not the only rational man there.  A Lieutenant Cramer also tried to reason with Chivington, stating that Chiefs Left hand and Black Ket
tle had acted in good faith. 

"I believe it to be murder.  We are under obligation to those Indians.  I brought them here to comply with Evans proclamation.  I made a promise to
Black Kettle," Cramer said.

John
watched as Lieutenant Colonel Henry Sedgwick stood up, expecting him to think rationally too.  He was disappointed.  Sedgwick held to Chivington's view
, supporting him enthusiastically, but tempered with the promise to
Cramer that Black Kettle, Left Hand and their friends would be spared and that the object of the expedition was to surround the camp and take stolen stock
.  Only
those Indians
who had been stealing
or otherwise doing wrong
would be killed.

Chivington used harsher words.  Threats were made against any soldier v
oicing opposition to the plan.
"I believe it is right and honorable to use any means under God's heaven and kill Indians that would kill women and children if given t
he chance.  And damn any man who
is in sympathy with the Indians," Chivington thundered.  Slowly his eyes touched on John, on Cramer, Soule
,
and any of the others who had even voiced a peep in the Indians defense.  "Such men as you, Hanlen.  You, Cramer.  You Soule. 
And Johnson and
Vickery.  Should get out of the
United States
service if you can't do your duty.  That d
uty includes killing Indians."

"Not unarmed ones, Sir,"  Captain Vicke
ry said, looking towards John.

A final attempt to divert Chivington was made by a contingent of officers who stated that it would be a crime to attack Indians who
had come to the fort in peace.

"They are prisoners of war!" Chivington growled, "and as such I wi
ll do with them as I see fit!'

Chivington, livid with anger at
the opposition mounting in the meeting,
walked excitedly around the room an
d
ended the meeting abruptly, once more declaring
, "D
amn any man who i
s in sympathy with an Indian."

John hurried from the room and stood on a ladder beside the stables.  He could see the Colorado Third camped outside the fort, their campfires dotting the area.  As he watched
,
the fires were snuffed out, an ominous sign.  He knew in that moment that Chivington, afraid that perhaps his orders might be
co
untermanded
, had ordered
the volunteers to
break camp and move out.
As if to prove him right
,
he could see their torchlight
s reflecting on the flakes of snow that had started to fall from the sky.

"So much for reason
," he whispered, hurrying
into
the stable
.
             

Sam watched John saddle up, all the while c
lucking his tongue in warning.
"You know the orders.  Anyone trying to leave here to give warning is to be shot, no questions asked.  You'll come back with bullet holes plastered all over your body."  His voice grew sadly quiet.  "If
you come back at all that is."

"I have to go, Sam.  There is no other way."  John thrust his foot i
nto the stirrup and climbed onto
his horse.  "I couldn't live with myself if I allowed this thing to happen.  I can't just sit by while Skyraven and her peop
le face slaughter."

Thus spoken
,
he fiercely nudged his horses' flanks, watching for an opportunity to ride out of the fort when the gates were opened for a supply wagon.  John ducked as a barrage of shots were fired at his retreating figure.  He could hear shouted commands that he stop but paid them no heed.  Though he risked his life
,
he didn't care
for doing the right thing was more important and he was certain he was doing just that right now.
Urging his horse on at a frantic pace
,
he braced himself against the icy wind and followed  after the ragtag soldiers of the Colorado Third. 

Chapter Forty-One

The night sky was clear, the stars bright, the air biting.   John Hanlen rode on, shivering against the chill but refusing to go back.  He paused only long enough to pull a saddle blanket up around him
,
then galloped on.  Snow was falling
, making
it was difficult to see where he was going
,
yet somehow he managed to follow the parade of Chivington's men, wishing he  had a head start on them.  His only  hope was that the howitzers they were pulling behind them were slowing them down.  If he were persistent
,
he might well be able to come upon the village bef
ore them.  He held that hope.

The command traveled in columns of fours.  It was a rowdy group of men who headed for Sand Creek, men who carried whiskey in their saddlebags and didn't b
other to wear their uniforms, w
ho often refused to obey their officers.  Now they sought their whiskey bottles for warmth
, shouted out  bold comments
about all the Indians they would kill.  John could only hope that their
drunkenness
would make them
careless and alter their aim.

The dark forms of the soldiers was black against the snow.  John tried to calculate just how many there were and judged it to be about five hundred.  Five hundred men to swoop down u
pon a slumbering Indian village!
  Another column, coming from the direction of the fort looked to be about a hundred.  Reinforcements from the fort.  Chivington didn't wa
nt to take a chance on defeat.

It was a long ride to the camp.  Much longer than John remembered.  Perhaps it only seemed that way because of the circumstances
. As he traveled he construed
a plan
.
He couldn't save the whole camp, he knew that to be
impossibility
, but if he could find Skyraven
,
he would put her up behind him and ride like the wind as faraway as was possible.  That was the overriding thought that urged him on.  Save Skyraven and somehow manage to escape being caught.  If he were apprehended
,
it
would surely mean his life. 

A faint glow of light  at last arose from the flat horizon to the east and spread over the sand hills.  To his right
,
John could see the tree
-
marked course of the river.  The river had no prominent north bank, the sand hills to the south having caught the main force of past flood waters.  The river bed was low and flat with only a faint
trickle
of
ice-crusted
water snaking along the creek bed
.
In the bend grew the scattering of cottonwood and willow
that he remembered.  Through the
bare tops
,
a hors
e herd could be seen grazing.  T
o the west, less than a mile away, the
village
of
Black Kettle
's
Cheyennes
speckled the river's bend on the north bank. And to the west beyo
nd….. Skyraven's people!
  From the
ridge top
,
John surveyed the quiet camp.  The Indians would be sleeping.  They wouldn't know Chivington was coming unless he raised an alarm.  But how?  Guiding his horse down the bank
he decided to take a shortcut.

Meanwhile, from a hill top above the Indian village two  units  of the Colorado Third Cavalry Regiment waited patiently for the sunrise.   None of them were really soldiers or had ever fought Indians
,
but most of them disliked the red skinned savages.   On the other side of the river  there was  one regiment of the First Colorado Cavalry.  Now, in the chilly dawn of the late fall, the creeping sun
light made the tepees visible.

"They're all beddybye, just like the colonel said.  And look at them horses down there on the other side of the river grazin' as if nothing was gonna happen,"  one of the volunteers of  third unit said as
he pointed in that direction.

"Ride over and tell Major Anthony to cut that herd of ponies off from the village and then proceed up the other side of the creek."  Colonel Chevington gave the order to  the sergeant directly in back of him.   "And tell him everything else will go according to our original plan. We will ride up through the middle of the camp and Lieutenant Folley can cir
cle around the other side."

"Yes, Sir."

"Sun up, Sergeant.  Then I want you to kill and scalp all, big and littl
e.  Kill all you come across."

"Yes, Sir."

The young sergeant headed toward the hill  where the howitzer cannon was being set up  without stopping to look back.  He had a message to deliver to Major Anthony. The shooting would start
just as soon at sunrise.

Unaware t
hat her village was under surveill
ance
,
Skyraven
slept
soundly. Long into the night she
had
tossed and turned, assailed by a feeling of apprehension
,
not knowing why she felt as if somethi
ng terrible was about to happen?
  Long after the others had gone to bed and the camp was hushed
,
she received her answer.  A noise.  She was certain she had heard something. The barking of the
camp dogs announced the presence of intruders.

"The dogs....." she said sleepily, wishing t
hey would cease their yapping.

She turned over but stirred when  she thought she heard the sound of a bugle. Thinking that she was just dreaming about John Hanlen, she pulled her  buffalo robe up closer around her shoulders and snuggled down to continue her sleep.   He had told her that in the cavalry everyone live
d by the sounds of the bugle. 
"You wake up to that sou
nd and you go to sleep to it
,"  he had said quite emphatically.  "Sometimes you just wish the bugler would take a le
ave of absence for awhile."  

"Imagining....." she breathed
into her robe.

In a matter of just a few minutes her dreams were shattered again.  This time there could be no mistake.  Suddenly shots rang out and there were  more  bugle sounds.   There were voices and neighing horses.  The approaching hoof beats sounded like a distant roll of thunder, yet she knew instantly that this was not the rumble of the sky's fury.  Skyraven was startled awake.  Guns.  Canons. She heard them clearly.  The shattering sound of hoofbeats and angry shouts assaulted her ears again and again.  Danger.  It was not in friendsh
ip that these riders had come.

Slipping from her bed of buffalo robes, Skyraven crept forward to explore. Most of the men were away hunting.  It wouldn't be them.  Those shots could not have come from their rifles and she certainly was not dreaming.  Those were really bugles sounding.  Carefully pulling aside the flap sh
e peered out and
saw one of the soldiers scattering the horses so that no one could escape. There was hatred written on his face, on all the faces of the soldiers as they thundered into the camp.  Wh
y?  What had her people done?

Scrambling to her feet, Skyraven lifted the flap of the teepee and stuck her head from the opening.   Everywhere her people were running for cover.  The soldiers were charging from three directions
,
cutting off the horses so that the  few men left in the camp could not ride to get help.  At first there was only confusion. There had been no warning.  Since the Indians believed themselves to be at peace
,
they had posted no guards other than boys tending the pony herd.  What kind of men would sneak up on others while they were at slee
p? 

Skyraven grabbed her clothing.  Hobbling about on one foot
,
she hurriedly dressed and pulled her leather pouch from its place o
n the
pole.
Then
she rushed ou
tside to join the other women.

In the event of attack
,
every member of the tribe was assigned a duty.  Women were to bring their children to shelter, what  braves there were took up weapons to fight, but most of the braves were away, trying to forage some meat.  It was a frightening thought.  The healthy, skilled men were away from the camp in this the ho
ur that they were most needed.

The t
hunder of hooves filled the air
.  Pools of blood spread through the camp in their wake. She saw an old woman rush accidentally into the horse
’
s path only to be mercilessly trampled.  Skyraven fell backward, narrowly escaping the trampling hooves of another attacker.  She could feel the warmth of the horse, could smell the sweat of it, felt the swish of air touch her body as the animal thundered by
,
and knew the sharp pang of fear.  Bullets were hitting the lodges like a hail storm and onl
y by a miracle was she spared.

Chief Black Kettle, thinking there was
some mistake ran outside
shouting "No ! No!  Go back.  Go back.  We are friendly.
” As Skyraven ran by in
frenzy
, he tried to reassure her. “This village is under the
protection
of the United States Government. They gave me a medal and a flag. There is no real danger. The soldiers will soon realize that they have made a mistake.”

He had no sooner gotten the words out of his mouth when his own wife fell to the ground, a bullet barely missing her. Running forward, Black Kettle yelled, “There are one hundred and fifteen
Cheyenne
lodges
and eight Arapaho lodges here. We are friendly. We came to seek the protection of your proclamation.”
But the firing continued.  The Indians
,
now fully roused
,
watched in alarm.  When a vo
lley of grape shot was hurled upon the village from the
creek
bank
and gunfire  shots began missing him only by inches,  Black Kettle rushed inside and came out with his
American
flag
,
which he  hoisted hurriedly on a tall
lodge pole
.  Beneath the American flag was a piece of nearly white, tanned buffalo  hide.  A flag of truce.  Some of his people huddled under the flags as Black Kettle told them the soldiers would not hurt them while they were under the two fl
ags.  Gunfire quickly proved him wrong.

Black Kettle put down his flag and commenced his death song, "Nothing lives long, except
the earth and the mountains."

Skyraven could see the familiar figure of her grandfather.  Standing tall and proud in the  melee
,
he was looking up at the sky and chanting, but he broke his concentration when he hear
d her cries.  "Run, Skyraven."

"No.  I can not leave you."  She was too numbed by what was happening to really realize
fully what it really meant. 

"You must.  That is what I tell you. 
Obey!  I will join you later."

Her instinct warned her to do as he
r grandfather
asked, yet her sense of loyalty kept her hovering near.  This time his voice was a loud boom of thunder as he repeated his command.  Heeding his wishes
,
she ran into the cover of
the few
sheltering trees and there watched the destruction of the Indian camp.  Carnage.  Death.  Before her was a tangle of dead
bodies.  Women and children.

Like a madman
,
John rode into the fray, searching frantically for any sign of Skyraven. He couldn't quite believe it when he had heard the signal for attack.  How could Chivington
have done this
?  How could he!  The man was as vile as a
serpent
.  Even from a distance he could hear the screams and the pleas for mercy, see the bright scarlet staining the snow. His eyes were nearly blinded by tears at this senseless bloodletting. With a scream of anger and anguish
,
his heart was grieved that his own people were the agents of such brutality.  And
they
called the Indians "savages".  Was it worth it for these people to be sacrificial lambs just so that Evans could save face, so Chivington could justify keeping his precious "hundred-dayers"?  Apparently there were those who thought no price too
costly for  their own glory. 

Fearfully he searched among the dead, feeling blessed relief that he could not find Skyraven among them.  She must be alive, but where was she?  His instincts told him that she would have tried to protect her grandfather
,
and so  he sought out the form
of that noble old man as well.

Fighting against  the blue-coated volunteers, cursing them aloud for their stupidity, trying to do whatever he could to minimize the carnage
,
he fought like a courageous gnat against a swarm of flying ants, saving what women and children he could.  It sickened him to hear the soldiers making excuses
for murdering Indian children.