Bill Dugan_War Chiefs 03 (25 page)

The two great Lakota chiefs rode all day long and camped well up the Rosebud, in a broad valley surrounding a winding creek. Far up either slope, thick pine forests turned the hills a green so dark it was almost black. They built a fire and settled down for the night, not expecting to sleep, but to talk.

“You have never danced the sun dance, have you?” Sitting Bull asked.

Crazy Horse shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I am not really a holy man like you. I know only what I know, and I am willing to wait for tomorrow to come to see what it brings.”

“Is it because you don’t believe in
Wakantanka?
Is that why you have never danced?”

“No. I have visions, just as you do. When I was a boy, I made my vision quest, just as you did. I was so hungry for it that I did not go through the usual preparations. I went off by myself without studying with a holy man, and without going to the sweat lodge for purification first. I stayed on a high rock overlooking a lake for three days. And I was out of my head with thirst and the blazing sun. I was beginning to think that I had done something wrong, that I had offended
Wakantanka,
and that because of this I would not have a vision.”

Crazy Horse fell silent for a long time, and Sitting Bull waited patiently for him to continue. While he waited, he watched the clouds high overhead.

One great black mass rushed toward the valley, and in the early evening sun, Sitting Bull could see its huge shadow spreading over the grass, darkening it, and as the wind picked up, seeming to flatten its blades under an invisible weight.

Looking up at the cloud again, he saw it catch fire at its edges as the sun was hidden behind it; then a single blade of brilliant light burst through its heart and swept like a burning sword across the valley. A moment later, the cloud began to disintegrate, its fragments swirling as they separated.

Only when the cloud was gone did Crazy Horse resume, and Sitting Bull realized his friend had been watching the cloud as intently as he had. “I wish,” he began, “that the war would go away so easily, but I know that it will not.”

Then, as if he had never changed the subject, Crazy Horse picked up where he had left off. “My vision has never failed me. And for some reason that I don’t quite understand, I know that it is enough. It is for other, better men to speak to
Wakantanka
on behalf of the people. I am here only to do what I can do to feed them and to protect them.”

It was Sitting Bull’s turn to grow silent. He understood what Crazy Horse was saying, and there were times when he felt the same way. But he knew that his path and that of his friend were very different, and he had to do what his heart told him to, just as Crazy Horse did. It was not a matter of what you thought, it was what you felt inside, and you ignored it only at great peril.

“I will dance at the sun dance,” he said, breathing
a heavy sigh. “I am not a young man, and it will be a hard thing, but I have to do it.”

“I wish it was something I could take on my own shoulders, but I cannot,” Crazy Horse said.

“I know that. And I know you would do it if it were the right thing for both of us … and for the people. But a man who picks and chooses what he is willing to do for the good of the people is no friend to them. I cannot say, ‘I will do this thing, because I don’t mind, but this other thing is too much, let someone else do it.’ I would not deserve to be a leader if I were to do such a thing.”

“The war will be bad, we both know this,” Crazy Horse said, shaking his head slowly. “And we need strong medicine if we are to have a chance. I think the sun dance is powerful medicine, and I know that men who dance get close to
Wakantanka
in a way I have never been able to do. Sometimes I wish I were different, but I cannot change what I am.”

“You should not wish to change,” Sitting Bull assured him. “Each man does what it is set out for him to do. You have done well for the Lakota people.”

“You know,” Crazy Horse said, “that it has been foretold that I will not be killed in battle, but that I will meet death from behind, while my hands are being held by a friend. It was part of my vision, and I believe it.”

Sitting Bull nodded gravely. “Yes, I know. I have seen things in my own visions, and all of them have come to pass except one. And that one I will not talk about to any man. But I know that when I dance the sun dance this time, I will see the future
in a way that will be true, and what I see will come to be. I have never been afraid of any man. I have fought the Crows and the Shoshone, the Arikara and the Hohe. I have fought the Long Knives, and I have never turned away from a good fight. But I am frightened of what I might see now. I fear for the Lakota in a way I have never feared anything before in my life.”

Crazy Horse clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Maybe you will see a good thing. Maybe you will see the Long Knives turning to dust and blowing away in a great wind off the plains. Maybe you will see the buffalo coming back, until they cover the earth as far as you can see in any direction. That would be a good thing.”

Sitting Bull thought about the herd he had seen in his vision, the flesh melting like fat in the sunlight, turning to smoke and covering the sun with a great cloud, and he shook his head. “I hope so,” he said. “But I don’t think so.”

Neither man slept, but neither said another word. They sat beside the fire all night long, each wrapped in his own thoughts, his own private terrors dancing in the shadows just beyond the reach of the firelight. The night was so black that the stars looked close enough to touch, and the wind hissed through the cottonwoods beside the creek, its whisper broken only by the hoot of a distant owl.

When the stars began to fade and the sky turned gray again, they were ready for the long ride home. Before mounting their ponies, Crazy Horse took Sitting Bull in his arms. “We will do what we have
to, you and I,” he said. “And it will be up to
Wakantanka
to decide if we have done enough.”

It was near nightfall when they reached the camp on the Rosebud, and they sat on a hill overlooking the lodges that stretched out of sight in either direction. The camp was even larger than it had been the morning before, and the great lodge for the sun dance was already in place. Sitting Bull had things to do before his dance, and he wanted to get ready. As they rode down the hill, the two men separated; Crazy Horse headed for the Oglala circle and his own people, while Sitting Bull went directly to the Hunkpapa lodges.

When he reached the circle, he rode directly to his tipi, where Four Horns was waiting for him. He searched his nephew’s face, looking for some indication that Sitting Bull had accomplished his purpose, learned something perhaps, or found some peace of mind. But there was no evidence of what, if anything, had happened in the immobile features.

“Uncle,” he said, “I have vows to make, and I will need witnesses. Find White Bull and Jumping Bull for me.” At the mention of the second name, Four Horns grew solemn. The name was now used by the Assiniboin Sitting Bull had adopted, taken in honor of Sitting Bull’s father. As an afterthought, he asked for the son of Black Moon to join the party, too.

When Four Horns had gathered the witnesses Sitting Bull had requested, the four men rode out of camp again, to a high butte, where Sitting Bull lit the ceremonial pipe and made an offering. Raising
the pipe overhead, he pleaded with
Wakantanka
for assistance. “Have pity on me and my people. Bring the wild game for us to hunt. Let all good men be more powerful, so that they can have the peace that comes only from strength. If you do this, and grant my people safety and happiness, I will dance for two days and two nights and give you a fat buffalo in offering.”

Sitting Bull then smoked the pipe and passed it to each of his three witnesses in turn. It was time to hunt now, and Sitting Bull was looking for the buffalo he had pledged. They found a small herd, and Sitting Bull succeeded in bringing down three large animals. With White Bull’s help, he chose the best, a fat cow, and prepared it for offering, rolling it upright and stretching its legs out to the four directions. Then he called upon
Wakantanka
to accept the offering in fulfillment of his promise.

He returned to camp full of hope. It had been a promising beginning, and he was now starting to think that perhaps things were not as bleak as they seemed. He told Jumping Bull that he planned to offer one hundred pieces of flesh at the sun dance and asked his adopted brother if he would be willing to do the cutting.

Jumping Bull, honored by the request, agreed. When Sitting Bull was ready, sitting against the base of the ceremonial cottonwood, Jumping Bull knelt beside him, a sharp metal awl in one hand and a razor-sharp, thin-bladed knife in the other. Starting at the wrist, he worked his way up one arm and down the other, raising pieces of flesh
with the point of the awl and using the knife to slice them off.

It was time for the dance now and Sitting Bull made himself ready. He approached the sacred pole, arms outstretched. Staring at the sun, he danced ceaselessly, pleading to
Wakantanka
to hear his prayers for his people. He was still bleeding from the wounds in both arms, and at the first intermission, the blood was wiped away with sage leaves.

Four Horns was worried about his nephew. The sun dance was rigorous even for a man in the prime of life, and Sitting Bull was forty-five years old. The medicine man feared that Sitting Bull might be pushing himself too hard, demanding more of his body than it could possibly deliver. With the war coming, the Lakota needed him more than ever. It would serve no good purpose for Sitting Bull to prostrate himself, risking debilitation and even death, if it meant he would not be there to lead the people when he was finished. He knew that Sitting Bull was proud, so Four Horns would not mention his concerns. And he consoled himself with the thought that
Wakantanka
would not let any harm come to a man who had always shown nothing but respect for the Great Spirit, and had never failed to place the needs of the people ahead of his own needs.

When the dance resumed, Sitting Bull sprang to his feet and plunged back in. He was exhausted and he was thirsty, but he pushed aside any thought of stopping. Too much depended on him, and if he broke his vow, he would never be able to
face his people again. Late into the night he danced on, and by the following morning he was nearly drained. But he would not hear of stopping, even though White Bull had whispered to him at an intermission that it might be a good thing. “You have danced enough,” he said. “You have kept your vow, as everyone can see. You should stop now.”

Sitting Bull shook off the concerns of his nephew. When the dance resumed, he staggered to his feet and danced on. It was near noon before the next intermission, and Sitting Bull was nearly dead on his feet. White Bull and Jumping Bull carried him to the shady arbor and poured water on him to revive him.

He was slow to respond, and only when he started to sputter and slap at the water skin, did they leave off.

“Are you all right?” White Bull asked, kneeling beside his uncle.

Sitting Bull nodded. “I am fine. Tired, but that is nothing. I have had a vision.”

“What? What did you see?” White Bull asked, leaning closer.

“Get Black Moon. I will tell him.”

White Bull rushed off to find the holy man, and when Black Moon came hurrying back with White Bull, he knelt beside the exhausted chief and leaned close. “White Bull says you have had a vision,” he prompted.

Sitting Bull nodded. “Yes. At first I heard a voice, deep, coming from no one I could see, maybe the sky itself. ‘I give you these because they
have no ears,’ it said. And I looked up at the sky and I saw men and horses, mostly Long Knives and a few Indians, and they were falling from the sky upside down. Their hats were falling off. The soldiers were falling right into our camp.”

Black Moon nodded as if he understood. By now the people were pressing in around the chief, trying to hear what he was saying. Black Moon got to his feet and ordered the people back to give Sitting Bull some room. “Let him breathe,” he shouted. “Let him breathe.” Then he announced the vision to the gathering, and a hush fell over them. They knew what it meant. It meant the Long Knives were coming to them, and because they were falling upside down, it meant they were dead, killed in a battle with the Lakota.

Black Moon called an immediate end to the sun dance. “We have had the word we sought,” he announced.
“Wakantanka
has spoken to us through Sitting Bull. It is time to make ready.”

Rosebud River Valley
1876

W
HILE ATTENDING TO THE
sun dance, Sitting Bull had not neglected more mundane matters. Scouts had been sent in every direction on a daily basis, in parties numbering anywhere from half a dozen to sixty or more. When they could, they would flash their information back to camp at long range by using mirrors, and when that wasn’t possible, one or more of the scouting party rode all the way back to the main camp.

After the close of the sun dance, on June 14, the main village moved a few miles to Reno Creek, in a valley between the Rosebud and Little Bighorn rivers, a move made necessary by the sheer size of the encampment. The huge herds of horses were stripping the grass rapidly, and it was essential to keep them well fed and rested because no one knew when the Long Knives would come, only that they were sure to do so. The prophecy of
Sitting Bull’s vision left no room for doubt on that score.

The Long Knives were closer than anyone realized. General Crook, at the head of a column of more than one thousand soldiers and nearly three hundred Indian scouts, all Crows, Shoshones, and Rees, all deadly enemies of the Lakota, were moving inexorably closer.

On June 16, scouts finally stumbled on Crook and his men and dashed back to the village to alert Sitting Bull. Yellow Nose, a Ute captive now living among the Cheyenne, led the scouting party that finally made the discovery. It was late afternoon by the time he rushed to Sitting Bull’s lodge with the news.