Man on Two Ponies (17 page)

“That's the way it looks right now,” Culver admitted, flicking tobacco off his lip. “And if the drouth doesn't end pretty soon, in a few years they can buy the best land for seventy-five or
fifty
cents an acre.”

“That's what some men said they'd do. They probably intended to do that all along.”

“No, it wasn't any deep-laid plot. It's just one more example of Sioux bad luck. It seems that ever since they settled on the reservation they've been under a curse. It's been all downhill, straight for perdition. And now
if
the best land goes cheap it'll be a huge swindle, even though that wasn't intended.”

Late in March the downcast Sioux learned that General Crook had died suddenly of heart failure. Billy felt sick. Congress will never
carry
out his promises now, he thought. Others reached the same conclusion. “With
him
dies our last hope,” wrinkled old Two Strike said gloomily. “They made us many promises, more than I can remember, but they kept only one—they promised to take our land, and they took it.”

The Oglalas had the same reaction.
“General
Crook came,”
Red
Cloud said, “At least he never lied to us. His words gave the
people hope. He died. Then hope died again. Despair came again.”

The Word Carrier
quoted a Protestant missionary on the condition of the Sioux following news of Crook's death. Their state of mind, he said, is “one of uncertainty, almost consternation, like men on a vast ice floe that is about to break up.” He's right, Billy thought. We trusted Three Stars. Now he's gone, and there's no one else who might help us. We're lost. At this point, when all of the Tetons were plunged deep in gloom, Short Bull and the others returned to Rosebud. The expressions on their faces contrasted sharply with the despairing countenances of the Brulés who
greeted
them. It's clear, Billy concluded, they bring good news, but it's too late. The half-starved Brulés had given up hope. The death of Three Stars was the final blow, and they were stoically waiting their turns to travel the Spirit Trail. But the chiefs called a council for the following afternoon, then sent riders to the nearest camps with the news so they could spread it to others, and many could attend.

All morning the next day a stream of families arrived at the meeting place, a few miles from the agency, in wagons and on ponies, wrapped in their blankets against the cold. All were lean, the skin on their faces hanging loosely over the shrunken flesh.
They spoke little, waiting mutely to hear what the wayfarers had to say, but with no sign of expectation in their dull eyes. Finally, when all were squatting in a big circle, Short Bull rose to speak.

Billy noticed at once that Short Bull had changed as a result of his journey west. Earlier he had seemed reserved and soft-spoken, as if hesitant to voice his opinions. Now he stood before them exuding confidence; he reminded Billy of American Horse when he spoke at the council in Pine Ridge. Short Bull's sharp face turned slowly as his keen eyes swept over the circle of somber faces.

“My brothers,” he began, “our search was successful, but first let me tell you about our journey. At Pine Ridge we joined Good Thunder, Cloud Horse, Yellow Knife, and five other
Oglalas. As
we left, Kicking
Bear
arrived in time to accompany us.” The Oglala Kicking Bear, Billy knew, was married to a Miniconju woman and lived with her people at the Cheyenne River Agency on the Missouri.

“When we reached the Shoshonis we found five of them and
three
Northern Cheyennes and an Arapaho ready to start out, so we
all
rode
together. At Salt
Lake
City we came to a
railroad,
where a train of empty cattle cars was stopped. Some cowboys invited us to ride the train with them, and helped us load our ponies in the cattle cars. We got off the train in the land of the Paiutes—Nevada, the cowboys called it. The Paiutes took us to their reservation at Walker
Lake,
where we met the Messiah. His name is Wovoka.” A murmur of expectation rose from the crowd.

“Wovoka told us that on the day the sun died, a year ago in the Tree Popping Moon, he also died and went to heaven. He saw
God
and
all
the people who had lived long ago.
God
gave him a new religion and sent
him
back to earth as the Messiah of the Indian people. Many tribes have heard about
him
and sent men to see
him
while we were there. He taught
all
of us the Ghost Dance and some of the Ghost Songs God gave
him.”
Billy leaned forward, eager to hear more. He
glanced
at the faces of the others. They were also listening intently, but the expressions on a few
faces
made it clear they were skeptical.

“Wovoka told us
that
a new world
is
coming for the
Indian
race,” Short Bull continued. “It is coming from the west, and it will arrive when the grass
turns
green in the spring. When it comes the earth will tremble. That is the signal for
all
of the believers to tie the sacred eagle feathers in their hair. With these feathers we
will
soar aloft while the new earth buries the old. The new earth will bury the Wasicuns or push them before it, clear across the great water to the land they came from. Then we will come down from the
sky
and find
all
of the Indians who ever lived. Everyone will live forever. The buffalo will return and we will hunt again.”

He went on to say that they had followed Wovoka's instructions to
fast
for a day, perform the Ghost Dance, and sing the Ghost Songs; they had died and traveled to the Spirit Land. “There I saw Chasing Hawk and his wife, who told me they would soon be coming.
Good
Thunder talked to his son, who was
killed
on a raid many summers ago.” Exclamations rose from the listeners, who clapped
hands
over their mouths in astonishment.

“He gave us these orders. We must obey them exactly so that the new world will surely come. They are: 'do no
harm
to anyone.
You must not fight. Do not tell lies. When your friends die, you
must not cry,
for they will soon return. Do right always.' ” Another murmur rose from the throng of Brulés, and Billy found himself holding his breath. It seemed incredible, but it was obvious that Short Bull and his companions believed it without a trace of doubt. When the murmuring stopped, Short Bull resumed his strange tale.

“When we left Wovoka, he said, 'On your way home, if you kill a buffalo, cut off the head, tail, and all four feet and leave them. The buffalo will come to life again.' We thought there were no buffalo left, but we saw several and killed one. We did as Wovoka ordered, and as we rode away we saw the buffalo reappear and trot after the others.” The crowd buzzed with excitement, while Mash-the-Kettle, Flat Iron, and Yellow Breast nodded their heads vigorously in agreement. Up to that point Billy had found Short Bull's wonderful tale believable, but a dead buffalo coming back to life was harder to swallow. That raised doubts in his mind about the rest of the story. Still....

Wovoka had given them some cakes of his sacred paint to mix with their own for painting their faces before they danced, Short Bull added. “When you get home, he told us, you must fast for a day and a night, have a sweat bath, then paint your faces before you dance. You must dance for five days at a time, and on the last night you must continue dancing until the sun rises. Then all must bathe in a river before going home. Dance every six weeks, and make a feast at the dance. You must keep this up until the earth trembles.” Short Bull paused to catch his breath.

“He also gave us these orders. 'do not refuse to work for the Wasicuns, and do not make trouble for them. Do not tell them about this.' He also said that the dead are alive again, and when the time comes there will be no more sickness and everyone will be young. When the earth trembles, don't be afraid.
If
you are a believer, you will not be hurt.”

That ended the council, but few left. Little groups gathered to talk about Short Bull's strange but wonderful tale, while Billy listened. “Why would a Messiah come to save the Indians?” a young progressive asked. “Who cares what happens to us?” No one answered. Billy walked to the group that surrounded Short Bull.

“We must do what Wovoka ordered,” he was saying, his sharp
face animated. “We must believe in the Messiah and follow his instructions exactly.
It
is our only hope.” Billy left, not knowing what to think. He wanted badly to believe, but everything he'd learned at Carlisle told him that was foolish. Wovoka had ordered them to say nothing to the whites about the Ghost Dance. What should he tell Culver?

Fortunately, Culver didn't ask him about it, although he knew Billy had gone to the secret council. “I just received a letter from the trader at Walker Lake on the Paiute Reservation in Nevada,” he said. “He told me that Indians from all over are coming to see a medicine man called Wovoka. He said that some Sioux were there recently, maybe some of our people. It seems that on January 1 a year ago Wovoka was down with a fever when there was a total eclipse of the sun. Apparently he had a vision, and during it came up with a new religion, a peaceful one.”

Billy said nothing, but that explained what Short Bull meant when he said that on the day the sun died Wovoka had also died. Could that mean his vision was untrue? He wanted to ask Culver about it, but refrained.

Kicking Bear and his followers at Cheyenne River got fullbloods who'd been to school to write letters for them to friends at all of the agencies. They invited the Tetons to send men for a big council at Cheyenne River, where they would be taught the Ghost Dance along with the songs and rituals to be observed. Billy was called on to translate the letters to Brulés, for they didn't want any white men to see them.

At
Pine
Ridge the mixed blood postmaster William Selwyn, who had earlier translated letters from the Shoshonis to Oglalas, now translated the messages from Kicking
Bear
and his friends. At first Selwyn thought the
affair
not worth mentioning, but now he became alarmed at the growing excitement. He informed the agent that something mysterious and possibly dangerous was going on among the Oglalas, and that
Good
Thunder, Cloud Horse, and Yellow Knife seemed to be responsible. Agent Gallagher had the Indian police bring the
three
to his office for questioning. But even though he
kept
them in the guard-house for two days, they refused
to
answer his questions. He ordered them to stop whatever they were doing that upset the Oglalas, then released them. They obeyed his orders.

Census-taker Lea finished his work at Rosebud in May, and his figures showed 2000 fewer Brulés than there had been in 1880. Even though much of the decline had been caused by epidemics made more deadly by weakness from hunger, Lea's count meant yet another cut in rations. By this time it was painfully clear that Congress had no intention of keeping the promises Crook and the other commissioners had made or of restoring the beef ration to comply with treaty guarantees.

Heavy spring rains gave the Brulés hope that the drouth had finally ended and a much larger number
than
ever planted corn. Earlier they had planted merely to please the agent and to acquire farm wagons. Now they were so desperate for food that men helped women with the planting and hoeing weeds, something few Tetons had ever done before.

When Short Bull and Mash-the-Kettle began preaching the new religion at a camp on Iron Creek, about eight miles west of the agency, they attracted only a small number of Brulés. But as word spread
of the dancers dying and seeing dead relatives before coming to life again, more and more came to join them. They fasted, painted their faces, sang the sacred songs, and danced. At first they danced only on Sundays. Many fell into trances and traveled to the Spirit Land, and afterward described their dead relatives and their clothing and ornaments so vividly that those who remembered the individuals recognized the descriptions as accurate.

News of the arrest of Good Thunder and the others at Pine Ridge caused Kicking Bear to abandon his plans for a big gathering of Tetons at Cheyenne River. Instead, he left for a visit to the Northern Arapahos, and on his return stopped at Pine Ridge to see Good Thunder. The Arapahos are holding Ghost Dances, he said. Some of the dancers fall dead and visit dead friends, and when they come to life again they tell what they have seen. “The Arapahos,” Kicking Bear said, “are absolutely convinced of the truth of Wovoka's teaching. Why are the Oglalas idle?”