Joseph M. Marshall III (13 page)

Strangely enough, however, He Dog was the first to taste the experience of going on a raid against their ancient enemies. He joined a group that attacked a small Crow camp and took a horse or two and a gun that was left behind. But there were no stories to tell from this little raid, only that it happened and no scalps were taken. In any case, Light Hair’s rescue of the Sahiyela Yellow Woman was something any full-fledged warrior would not have found easy to do. So he smiled as He Dog excitedly told of his part in the raid. But He Dog and Lone Bear got the better of him again.

Word of Light Hair’s dream had quietly spread among the fighting men. Sooner or later, some said, the boy would have to put his medicine to the test. There was only one way to see if the enemy’s bullets and arrows would not strike him, so preparations were made for a raid north into Crow lands. Crazy Horse and Little Hawk had found a reddish-brown stone for Light Hair to wear behind his left ear, and taught him how to paint the lightning and hailstone marks from his dream. Then, a bullet gone astray while someone was practicing grazed Light Hair’s knee. Though Crazy Horse carefully treated the wound, to him it was a sign—a worrisome sign directly related to the people in the dream pulling the rider down. For the dreamer there would be danger, or harm, from his own kind.

To Light Hair, it was more than a wound. It was like the teasing he endured as a younger boy. The raiding party went without him, and although they neither failed nor succeeded, he still had to stay behind. But he still envied them their little adventure and listened eagerly as He Dog and Lone Bear described it to him.

The wound healed well and the months passed into winter. Hunting was good in the Powder River country and the Hunkpatilas laid in plenty of meat. But word came from the Hunkpapa and Mniconju to the north and from the Sicangu camps near the sand hill country to the east that the buffalo were hard to find. Such news was received with somber nods because - everyone knew the reason the buffalo were finding new trails. The whites. How can anyone so thoroughly contaminate a strip of land just by passing through? many wondered. The Holy Road was still filled with wagons from spring to late summer and newcomers didn’t have to be guided along it. All they had to do was follow the grave markers and the decaying carcasses of mules and oxen and the discarded household goods. The buffalo were wise to avoid such a trail and the Lakota couldn’t blame them. But when word came that some Lakota camps had to resort to eating horses to make it through the winter, anger rose like a flame pushed by a wind.

Light Hair, Lone Bear, and He Dog listened to the older men talk and heard them say that though the whites were not honorable enemies like the Crow or the Snakes, they were still a threat that had to be faced. Some Lakota were encouraged that one of the new agents at the Horse Creek fort was a man who had married a Lakota woman and who was, therefore, more inclined to understand his wife’s people. Others said that
Iktomi,
the Trickster, was twisting the minds of those who thought that an agent with a Lakota wife was a good thing, because the best thing would be that the whites were not around at all.

Winter passed for the Hunkpatilas and spring came as it always did, with its promise of renewal. The ash stave given to Light Hair by High Back Bone was now a new, stout bow. Under his uncle Little Hawk’s careful tutelage, he had glued strips of antelope leg sinew onto the back of it, giving it a strength that unbacked bows didn’t have. It sent its arrows with a low, resonant twang and drove them deep into a sand bank or the decaying wood of an old stump. A sinew-backed bow was more powerful than ordinary bows, in the same way some men had abilities that set them apart from others.

Crazy Horse gave his son the gift of a weapon, an old muzzle-loading rifle that had been given to him years before. It was a good shooter but a heavy thing to carry, not to mention its round lead bullets. There was also the added need to keep the black powder dry and in good supply. Powder and shot were hard to come by, but the rifle was a necessary weapon. More and more Lakota warriors had one. To add to Light Hair’s arsenal, Little Hawk gave him a cap and ball six-shot pistol he had found on the body of a dead white man during the previous winter. Overall, it was a spring unlike any other in Light Hair’s life.

Spring gave way to summer and the people moved to find good grazing for the horses. Light Hair rode on a long scout with High Back Bone toward the southwest near the eastern reaches of Snake territories. Through the days spent watching the distant smoke from several camps, the older man was not inclined to do any more than watch the normal comings and goings of their ancient enemies.

They returned to find that the encampment had grown considerably. News was buzzing about a prominent family planning a coming-out ceremony for a favored daughter. There would be much feasting and dancing.

Red Cloud was an impressive figure of a man and had a reputation as an orator. He was the head of a large family and some said he would be an important man for years to come. So it was only natural that the people were excited that his niece, Black Buffalo Woman, was to be honored. As a tiny doe-eyed girl, she had crossed Light Hair’s path now and then. Now she was a beautiful, willowy girl with long, glistening black hair.

The day of the ceremony came, and Light Hair joined his friends as they stayed on the outside of the large crowd gathered at the front of the girl’s family’s lodge. An old man spoke to the gathering, reminding them that all women were meant to be mothers, like the mother of them all, the Earth—that all Lakota women must follow the Earth Mother, to be like her in all ways, to feed, clothe and shelter her children, and to give them a place to rest.

Black Buffalo Woman sat in her mother’s lodge keeping her eyes appropriately down as the old man spoke. Beside her were piled fine things to be given away and outside the lodge were a string of horses also to be given away. When the old man finished talking, the girl’s father presented him with one of the horses and the feasting began. Light Hair hung back as the crowd moved away and managed to catch a glimpse of her dressed in a finely beaded dress, her hair in two long braids hanging down over her breasts signifying that she was now a woman.

That evening, Light Hair stayed in the back of the crowd during the dancing. Black Buffalo Woman’s brothers, her father, and her uncles stayed close to her as a reminder that any would-be suitor could count on having to prove his worth in order to become part of that family. (In the Lakota way, a new husband became part of the woman’s family.)

Light Hair made his way back to his own lodge and was given a message from High Back Bone. On the next dawn the man was leading a raid to the southwest. The message instructed him to gather his weapons and his medicine things.

Light Hair made his preparations before he turned in for the night. As any man does on the eve of battle, he saw to his weapons. Outside were the sounds of the drums and laughter as the people celebrated the coming out of a new woman among them, a new woman who would be the mother of warriors.

The drums were still pounding as he drifted off to sleep.

Nine

The enemy was positioned behind large rocks on the point of a hill near the Wind River. High Back Bone had led the Lakota raiding party deep into Snake country, but the men up on the ridge were not Snakes. Nonetheless, they showed a willingness to fight.

High Back Bone called the party together to plan an assault up the slope. The advantage clearly was with the unknown hidden enemy. The only cover on the slopes of the enemy hill was sparse sagebrush and small rocks, so a ground assault would be very risky. High Back Bone decided the best tactic would be to circle the hill on horseback and draw the enemy’s fire, causing him to use up his powder and bullets.

Though the Lakota managed to waste a few of their own precious bullets, the enemy on the hill did not fall for the trick. There was no choice but to dismount and use what little cover there was to advance up the hill. Two of the younger boys in the group were dispatched into a gully to hold the horses while everyone else spread out along the base of the hill. At a signal from High Back Bone, they began crawling. Halfway up, the enemy unloosed deadly fire, with the deep crack of gunfire echoing across the broad valley and bullets ricocheting off the rocky soil. Though no Lakota were hit, it was senseless to stay in the open. Someone managed to hit one of the enemy fighters as he moved from behind a rock, but otherwise the enemy was still entrenched. The Lakota moved back down the slope and regrouped.

There were two choices: call it a day and go home or make a mounted charge directly up the slope. The latter alternative was met with an exchange of intense, excited glances. High Back Bone decided they would position themselves all around the base of the hill and charge up from several directions at once.

Light Hair left his heavy muzzle-loader with the young horse holders. The new bow would be his weapon of choice since High Back Bone said there would be close fighting when they reached the top. A good bowman could send off more arrows in a short space of time and the rifle would be good for one shot at best. But he slid the six-shot pistol into his belt.

Waiting for his first taste of battle, Light Hair watched for the signal from High Back Bone, a stone’s throw to his right. He had stripped to his breechclout and moccasins, his hair loose in the manner of his dream and the lightning mark and hailstones painted on his chest. At the back of his head he wore the tail feathers from a red-tailed hawk, pointing down as when the hawk was about to strike his prey. Behind his left ear was the reddish-brown stone. In his right hand he held the bow, two arrows against his palm and a third clamped in his teeth. His quiver, bristling with arrows, was tied to the front of his waist to be in easy reach.

A shout came from High Back Bone as he urged his mount into a quick gallop to take him up the slope. Light Hair and the others did the same. Strangely, each rider had only a vague awareness of the others, though they could clearly hear dozens of hooves clattering on the rocky slope. Low, angry-sounding humming noises buzzed past their ears. The experienced fighting men knew it was the sound of passing balls from the enemy muzzle-loaders. The gunshots could be heard less than a heartbeat later.

Light Hair saw the large rocks getting closer with each jump of the horse. A man with a gun stepped out from behind a rock. Light Hair’s shot was pure instinct and he didn’t see if the arrow had hit its target. His horse pitched forward. The enemy who had stepped from behind the rock had managed to shoot the animal in the chest.

Light Hair rolled across the rocky slope. His horse was dead. His bow was gone. He quickly sliced the drag rope from his horse and ran down the slope, first in one direction, then another. A loose horse came out of nowhere and he managed to grab a handful of mane and swing on. There was gunfire from below and answering fire from the rocks at the top of the hill. The horse was rushing up the slope in blind panic and took his new rider in among the rocks.

With the pistol he snapped off a shot at a man who doubled over from the impact of the bullet. Gaining control of the horse, he raced down the slope, stopping to recover his bow. His quiver was still tied to his waist.

High Back Bone joined him, his horse winded. Together they charged up the slope again and in among the rocks. This time Light Hair used his bow and put an arrow through an enemy’s chest. Gunshots rang out from among the rocks and up from the slope. Bullets splattered against boulders or shattered small rocks on the ground. Unable to load another arrow, Light Hair used his pistol again, and another of the enemy went down.

Light Hair jumped from his horse to grab the hair of the dead enemy. A quick swipe with his knife separated a patch of scalp. As he ran toward a second body and grabbed another handful of hair, a sharp, smashing blow to his leg knocked him over. He went down in a heap but hurriedly regained his feet. Shouts and gunfire continued, bouncing off the huge boulders all around. Light Hair went from boulder to boulder as the gunfire waned, and then he hobbled down the slope.

The fight was over. Every one of the enemies had been killed. The Lakota rode among the rocks on the hill to make certain, and then they came down to gather around Light Hair. Most of them had seen him in the fight. Bullets and arrows had not touched him, except when he had tried to take the second scalp. His dream was true, they decided.

High Back Bone took the scalps from him and cleaned the wound in his lower leg. Someone rounded up Light Hair’s new horse, and they all rode away from the hill, a few new scalps dangling from lances or belts. Horses and guns were the prize, as well as the emergence of a new warrior among them.

That night around the fire, the full impact of the battle settled in like an uninvited and unwelcome visitor. Men had been killed. Light Hair had killed two men, the second and third human beings he had ever killed. The first was the Omaha girl in the country far to the east three years past.