Joseph M. Marshall III (34 page)

The threat posed by the Long Knives was the most persistent problem Crazy Horse had to face as a leader, requiring most of his attention. But, in addition, life had to go on and winter was coming. Hunters were busy, but hunting weakened the camp’s defenses because the hunter was also the warrior. So Crazy Horse advised the men to coordinate their hunting so that at least half of the able-bodied fighting men were always in camp. Every man hunted as though for two families, bringing in more meat than usual.

The encampment was in a constant state of alert, more so than usual. Early in the Winter Moon the scouts spotted a group of - people approaching through the first heavy snowstorm, a heartrending sight. They were Dull Knife’s Sahiyela and most of them had no winter robes, many of them suffering from frostbite. As they were brought into camp, they began to tell their story. Soldiers had attacked them ten days earlier. Their winter encampment along a fork of the Powder River had been burned, including all their winter food stores, and their horses scattered. The men did what they could to fight back, but many had been killed and were left behind where they had fallen. Some of the badly wounded had died during the long trek northward. What little food anyone had managed to grab as they fled their homes had been rationed carefully, but it had been so little.

The Crazy Horse people opened their homes to feed and clothe the Sahiyela, and went to work healing wounds and treating the frostbite. The damage to their spirits would be much more difficult to heal. The Sahiyela children often had difficulty sleeping, and many of the adults seemed unusually withdrawn.

Crazy Horse allowed the Sahiyela to rest as long as they needed before the encampment moved further up the Tongue to a more defensible location. Hunters were sent out to replenish meat supplies. Dull Knife informed Crazy Horse that he was forced to consider giving in to life on an agency if it meant his - people would be safe from facing continual conflict with the Long Knives. The Sahiyela, he reasoned, were not as numerous as the Lakota; the number of fighting men was far fewer. The fact of the matter was, Dull Knife thought, the Long Knives far outnumbered the Sahiyela and Lakota combined. He was afraid they would not stop until every Lakota and Sahiyela was on an agency, or dead.

The insight of a man like Dull Knife was difficult to ignore. He was a man who always considered the overall welfare of the - people above all else. But the implication that the Sahiyela and Lakota should consider that a viable alternative was survival under the control of the Long Knives was a bitter thought. Given the fact that the soldiers were conducting a winter campaign contrary to their usual habits was, in and of itself, cause for concern. But the fact that it was occurring after their losses at the Rosebud and the Greasy Grass was an unmistakable indication of their intent. Moreover, Three Stars’ decision to disarm the agency Lakota was the most telling fact. He couldn’t risk being flanked if the “wild” Lakota resisted successfully and the young hotheads at the agencies decided to join the fight.

They talked—the old men and the younger leaders of the fighting men—about this alternative, but it was like bile in the mouth. They all agreed that a leader had to consider all the alternatives, to find the path of least resistance, if necessary, in order that the people could survive. And it was coming to that. For most of the “wild” Lakota to be on an agency under the control of the Long Knives was to merely exist—it was simply being alive, not living. That it had to be an alternative was like a black cloud across the face of the bright full moon. But it hadn’t happened yet, the younger men pointed out, and it wouldn’t happen as long as Lakota fighting men had the will to resist. Nonetheless, the old men countered, wouldn’t it be wise to determine if the Long Knives might be willing to avoid continuous armed conflict? If so, then perhaps the “wild” Lakota could use that willingness to their benefit and pick the location of their agencies in return for “surrendering.”

The idea was debated long and frequently. Strangely, an opportunity presented itself when messengers arrived bringing word from Three Stars, who had given his assurance that the “wild” Lakota would be allowed to select the location for their own agencies if they signed a peace agreement. The only drawback was that it included agreement to the sale of the Black Hills. In spite of deep-seated suspicions, Crazy Horse agreed that this important issue should be discussed face-to-face with the Long Knives.

He Dog and Big Road suggested that Bear Coat (Colonel Nelson Miles) would likely be the man in charge of agencies in the north, just as Three Stars was in charge of the Red Cloud and Spotted Tail agencies in the south. And it would be preferable to live in the north in the Powder River area. Consequently, early in the Moon of Popping Trees, a delegation of eight good men were selected to meet with Bear Coat.

Crazy Horse and a large detachment of Oglala and Mniconju warriors escorted the delegation north to the fort on the Elk River. From a low bluff, the eight rode in unarmed and under a white flag of truce while the escorts waited. In the space of a few heartbeats, however, any opportunity to honorably discuss the possibility of northern agencies for the “wild” Lakota died unexpectedly.

A group of Crow scouts met the emissaries just outside the walls of the fort, making friendly gestures to indicate their peacefulness. As the eight Lakota rode past them toward the gate, weapons were drawn suddenly and the Crow opened fire at point-blank range on the unarmed Lakota and then fled on horseback. Crazy Horse charged down from the bluff but stopped when mounted soldiers emerged from the fort. Instinctively, the Lakota emissaries turned their horses and galloped for the safety of the bluffs and the protection of the escort warriors. Only three rejoined the warriors. Five lay dead on the ground near the gates of the fort.

Crazy Horse pulled his men back further up the bluffs, wary that the soldiers might open fire with their cannons. But there was no firing of any kind. Instead a group of soldiers went in pursuit of the fleeing Crow scouts while one soldier approached the bluffs, obviously trying to assure the waiting warriors that the soldiers had nothing to do with the ambush. The man’s courage was admirable, but the damage had been done. The treachery of the Crow may have surprised the soldiers as well, but there was no way to know.

The ambush at the fort on the Elk River seemed to signal that nothing but difficulty lay ahead. Even the weather seemed to turn against them. Blizzards whipped the land, filling every gully with snow. Crazy Horse moved his camp further up the Tongue on a plateau below a line of sheltering bluffs. Throughout the Powder River region, the encampments of the “wild” Lakota dug in to wait out the winter, hoping that the Long Knives were doing the same.

The harsh winter should have been a deterrent, at least providing a brief respite from worrying about the Long Knives. But it was not to be. Two agency Lakota carrying a bold message from Bear Coat found the Crazy Horse camp. If the “wild” Lakota moved in to the agencies they would be given food but would have to give up weapons and horses. The message immediately revealed heretofore unspoken fears and opinions. To the surprise of those opposed to moving into the agencies, many more were in favor. The debates were long and heated in nearly - every lodge, but, in the end, the council of old men turned down the offer and the messengers were sent back with their reply. Under cover of night, however, several families struck their lodges to follow them. Shortly after sunrise, Crazy Horse and several warriors caught up with the runaways.

The people knew Crazy Horse was a man formidable in battle, his often heart-stopping exploits told by men who saw him in action. Most of the people, however, saw him every day as a quiet man, one who worked hard to look after the welfare of all, a generous and gentle man. No one had ever seen him as an angry man, so it was a shock when he ordered the runaways’ weapons confiscated and their horses shot. But a greater shock was that the loss of weapons and horses, or Crazy Horse’s anger, didn’t deter those who seemed driven to take their chances at the agencies. When a few families left, this time in broad daylight, he - didn’t attempt to stop them. Instead, he rode off into the hills alone to seek out the one friend that would never betray him—solitude.

Winter remained relentless, as did the Long Knives. Late in the Moon of Popping Trees, soldiers entered the valley of the Tongue. They knew that many of the “wild” Lakota winter camps were situated there—the Itazipacola, the Mniconju, as well as the Oglala—because it was common knowledge among the agency Lakota, and among their Crow scouts as well. The soldiers, led by hundreds of Crow and Snake scouts and a few Lakota, struck the lower camps first, with two cannons. The best that the Lakota defenders could do, with their pitiful supply of bullets, was to fight a delaying action while the women and children fled upriver. The soldiers kept coming.

Messengers reached the Crazy Horse camp further up river. The only tactical option was to form a defensive line against the soldiers while the women quickly struck their lodges for a prolonged flight to get as far away from the soldiers as possible. The soldiers came out of the morning fog, and then paused as two cannons were brought up on the line and opened fire. Some of the Lakota moved downslope to within bow range and began to harass the soldiers with showers of arrows lifted high to rain down among them. Infantry soldiers attacked, crossing over the ice at a bend in the river, pouring heavy fire into the advancing Lakota. Cannon fire boomed in the frigid morning air. The Lakota, maintaining cover as they moved, launched a mounted and foot assault and were quickly in the midst of the surprised soldiers. In close combat their heavy buffalo-hide coats were a detriment. The Lakota inflicted heavy casualties before they withdrew, suffering three killed. They had accomplished their objective, to disorganize the Long Knives and stop their advance so that the women and children could get as far away as possible.

Crazy Horse’s people kept moving in spite of the freezing cold as Crazy Horse and several men fought a rearguard action, but the soldiers didn’t pursue. Eventually the Lakota turned northwest for the region of the Big Horn River. Though they had successfully fought off the Long Knives, their sense of security was gone. The soldiers had attacked Crazy Horse’s camp—a lance thrust at the heart if there ever was one. Another thrust came only days later, but not from the Long Knives.

The people had fled the Tongue River camp carrying only what was absolutely necessary, mainly lodge poles, lodge coverings, and little else. Most of the food supplies were left behind. While many of the men were out hunting, help arrived from a most unexpected source—Lakota from the agency. Thirty - people, including women, led by Sword came with food and blankets, but also with a message.

Sword, gracious as ever, assured Crazy Horse’s people that it was his idea to intervene because he didn’t want his friends and relatives dying when peace and a good life could be had so easily. If Crazy Horse would come in—meaning surrender—his - people would be given food, clothing, and blankets, and then he would be allowed to return to the Powder River area to claim it as his agency. This was the offer from a soldier named Clark, called White Hat by Sword, who spoke for Three Stars.

One of the thirty agency people was Woman’s Dress, garbed in fine clothes as usual. He had given in to the agency long ago, which was not surprising. No doubt he had ingratiated himself to Three Stars or whoever else had power to give Woman’s Dress the status he could never earn among his own people. Anyone who considered Woman’s Dress anything more than a fop was not to be trusted.

Crazy Horse thanked Sword for the gift of food, but said he - could give no answer to White Hat’s offer until he had spoken to He Dog and Big Road.

The future had revealed itself again. Young Man Afraid had finally given in. Only he and Sitting Bull were stubborn, or perhaps foolish. How could anyone continue resisting when even a brief battle used up the bullets that took several days of scrounging? Half the people who followed him wanted to go into the agency; they were tired of running from the soldiers, tired of being hungry, tired of seeing relatives die. They stayed because they believed he had an answer of some kind, something that would solve the problem of the soldiers.

Sitting Bull had an answer. He was going up to Grandmother’s Land—Canada. The Long Knives couldn’t pursue him over the border, and there were still buffalo to hunt. It was an answer, and perhaps the right one for the Hunkpapa. But it also brought a sense of foreboding.

Crazy Horse met quietly with Sword before he departed to return to the agency and asked him to take a message back. If no more soldiers were sent against him he would consider the offer of White Hat and Three Stars.

No more soldiers came. Winter slid into the Moon of the Hard Times and it was a struggle just to find fresh meat. Hunters stalked rabbits as diligently as they did the elk. There was a feeling in the encampment, an unspoken one, weighed down with sadness and even more uncertainty. The old ones would walk to the crest of a hill on a windless day and stand, simply staring out over the land. Black Shawl was alone much of the time. She would find a hindquarter of elk or deer at the door of her lodge some mornings, or sometimes rabbits. She knew her husband was not far away, simply far enough so he could search for answers amid the solitude he so cherished.

Crazy Horse knew what would happen, what had to happen. There was no solution that could rid the Lakota of the Long Knives. Dull Knife was right; the Long Knives would not stop. Their objective was to place each and every Lakota on the agencies—or as one old man said, whoever was left alive. And that was the issue that was the basis for agonizing inner turmoil. For him to die fighting to the last was perhaps his fate; his vision told him that. But what of those left behind? Facing an enemy on the field of battle was one of the most daunting tasks any human being was required to do. But what about facing the Long Knives day in and day out in the confines of an agency at the mercy of their will? The only reassurance was that they would be alive to face it. Perhaps that was the best they could hope for. What of those who had died defending the Lakota way of life?