Authors: Mike Blakely
Come Sundown (38 page)
T
he Moon of Hunger rose on a bleak and leafless world. Ice and snow invaded the Crossing on the Canadian, draping the old Adobe Walls with a lacework of white. It seemed everything living and edible had gone into hibernation on another continent. Since the big hunt where I bagged the white buffalo, the great herds had drifted on and splintered into many far-ranging bunches of skittish animals. Spring seemed years away, and the last morsels of dried meat and pemmican had disappeared. The hunters could not even locate a stray antelope or deer. This was called “the Time When Babies Cry for Food.”
he Moon of Hunger rose on a bleak and leafless world. Ice and snow invaded the Crossing on the Canadian, draping the old Adobe Walls with a lacework of white. It seemed everything living and edible had gone into hibernation on another continent. Since the big hunt where I bagged the white buffalo, the great herds had drifted on and splintered into many far-ranging bunches of skittish animals. Spring seemed years away, and the last morsels of dried meat and pemmican had disappeared. The hunters could not even locate a stray antelope or deer. This was called “the Time When Babies Cry for Food.”
We killed and butchered the poorest horses first. No one wanted to even think of eating the better horses, and we hoped it would not come to that. Horses would be needed to move
when the weather broke. Some wealthy families owned many surplus horses, but most claimed no more than half a dozen mounts. A Comanche without a horse was something less than a True Human. Still, it was better to be poor and afoot than dead of starvation, so the promising yearlings began to fall to the arrow and the knife. Only the finest horses were kept alive on cottonwood bark that the young boys had to strip from the trees in the bitter cold.
when the weather broke. Some wealthy families owned many surplus horses, but most claimed no more than half a dozen mounts. A Comanche without a horse was something less than a True Human. Still, it was better to be poor and afoot than dead of starvation, so the promising yearlings began to fall to the arrow and the knife. Only the finest horses were kept alive on cottonwood bark that the young boys had to strip from the trees in the bitter cold.
A council was called in the cruel clutches of a blizzard. The people were restless and angry. News from the north had filtered down. It was said that the raiding Cheyennes and Arapahos had been given gifts by Owl ManâWilliam Bentâto settle them down. Little Bluff, the old Kiowa chief closely allied with our band of Comanches for so many years, stood and spoke at this council, his voice stern, his hands translating his Kiowa words to sign talk.
“For many moons we have raided the
tejanos
and left the Americans alone. Our hunters have watched the wagons go by on the trails to the north of here, and have not bothered them. Our scouts have seen the tracks left by bluecoats, but have not followed them to hunt scalps or count coups. Now, while we starve, the Cheyennes and Arapahos are getting gifts and rations of beef from the Americans because they
have
attacked white wagons and killed white herders. It is time to end the starvation of our people and do what the nations to the north do to get beef. It is time to make war on the whites. Not just the
tejanos. All
whites!”
tejanos
and left the Americans alone. Our hunters have watched the wagons go by on the trails to the north of here, and have not bothered them. Our scouts have seen the tracks left by bluecoats, but have not followed them to hunt scalps or count coups. Now, while we starve, the Cheyennes and Arapahos are getting gifts and rations of beef from the Americans because they
have
attacked white wagons and killed white herders. It is time to end the starvation of our people and do what the nations to the north do to get beef. It is time to make war on the whites. Not just the
tejanos. All
whites!”
The younger warriors spoke in time, most of them agreeing with Little Bluff. When my chance came to speak, I rose, and defended my mentor, William Bent. “Who has seen Owl Man give rations to Cheyennes who have been raiding?” No one spoke or raised a hand. “I have seen him provide food many times for his people. He is adopted Cheyenne. But would he give his people food and gifts as a reward for raiding? I know Owl Man, and I know that he would not. Two winters ago, Owl Man gave rations to a band of Cheyennes who had had a fight with a white hunter who killed buffalo only for the hides. It was proven that the white hunter shot at the Cheyennes first, wounding one of them, and so they were only protecting themselves.
This hunter was killed in the fight. These Cheyennes were given food because they were hungry and they had come to the Cheyenne agency to ask Owl Man for rations. They were not given food for being bad. I was there with Owl Man when this thing happened. I know what I am talking about. The story has been told too many times by those who were not there, and the truth has been told right out of it. It is not a good idea to attack the wagons or villages of the Americans. To do so would not bring us rations of beef. It would bring war parties of bluecoats to our country in numbers never seen before. When this blizzard breaks, we must move to better hunting grounds or raid for more horses and cattle in Texas. We must not take handouts from Americans. War with them is not the best way. I have spoken.”
This hunter was killed in the fight. These Cheyennes were given food because they were hungry and they had come to the Cheyenne agency to ask Owl Man for rations. They were not given food for being bad. I was there with Owl Man when this thing happened. I know what I am talking about. The story has been told too many times by those who were not there, and the truth has been told right out of it. It is not a good idea to attack the wagons or villages of the Americans. To do so would not bring us rations of beef. It would bring war parties of bluecoats to our country in numbers never seen before. When this blizzard breaks, we must move to better hunting grounds or raid for more horses and cattle in Texas. We must not take handouts from Americans. War with them is not the best way. I have spoken.”
My opinion was not popular with everyone. Some young warriors, when they had their turn to speak, reminded the council that my blood was white, and that my wife was Cheyenne. But old Shaved Head, speaking now as a peace chief, rose to my defense, scolding the young warriors for criticizing me.
“Plenty Man is my grandson. He is pure
Noomah.
Many times his counsel has saved us from trouble with whites. He moves among the whites as easily as he moves among True Humans, but his heart is always
Noomah.
His bravery shall not be questioned, nor should his wisdom. He has said many times that if war comes with bluecoats or
tejanos,
he will protect his Comanche family. If we raid American wagons, it will not fill our stomachs with food. The spirits test us every winter, during the Hunger Moon, and this winter is no different. Listen to Plenty Man. He is the slayer of the white buffalo whose robe even now protects our village and will bring meat to those who have faith in spirit medicine. We must hunt and raid to the south, and leave the Americans alone. I have spoken.”
Noomah.
Many times his counsel has saved us from trouble with whites. He moves among the whites as easily as he moves among True Humans, but his heart is always
Noomah.
His bravery shall not be questioned, nor should his wisdom. He has said many times that if war comes with bluecoats or
tejanos,
he will protect his Comanche family. If we raid American wagons, it will not fill our stomachs with food. The spirits test us every winter, during the Hunger Moon, and this winter is no different. Listen to Plenty Man. He is the slayer of the white buffalo whose robe even now protects our village and will bring meat to those who have faith in spirit medicine. We must hunt and raid to the south, and leave the Americans alone. I have spoken.”
At this point, Quanah rose from the outer ring of young men. “I am riding tomorrow,” he said. Every face in the big lodge turned to look at the brash young warrior who had been mourning his father's death for almost two moons, for the wound Peta had received in the fight with Utes had festered
and killed him. “I will raid far to the south. There will be many horses and cattle. We will find game. I have sent prayers to the Great Mystery on the smoke of green cedar. I have had a vision. I do not fear this blizzard. My spirit powers will find shelter for all who follow me. Anyone brave enough to ride with me tomorrow will share in the take and go hungry no more. I have spoken.”
and killed him. “I will raid far to the south. There will be many horses and cattle. We will find game. I have sent prayers to the Great Mystery on the smoke of green cedar. I have had a vision. I do not fear this blizzard. My spirit powers will find shelter for all who follow me. Anyone brave enough to ride with me tomorrow will share in the take and go hungry no more. I have spoken.”
Now Chief Little Bluff rose again, chuckling at Quanah's swagger. “The young men are brave and reckless. I am old, and careful. I would rather die in battle than freeze to death with an empty stomach. So I will starve through this blizzard in this camp, but when the snows have ended, I will starve no more. I will lead all who wish to teach the Americans a lesson. For many years I have tried to get along with white men. It is like trying to reason with the snowflakes in that blizzard out there. But no more. No longer will they scatter our game and cross our country without paying. Now is the time, while they are at war with one another in the east. Now is the time to strike and take our country back! I have spoken.”
After the council, a few restless young Comanche men agreed to brave the blizzard and go south with Quanah, while most of the Kiowa warriors embraced Little Bluff's philosophy. The people of Kills Something's band were divided. Some vowed to follow Little Bluff. Others leaned toward the advice of Shaved Head and me. One thing seemed clear to me. Trouble was as sure to come as the changing of the moons. War fever had infected even our remote outpost on the Canadian.
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THE BLIZZARD AND the starvation did end, of course. A large herd of buffalo was located by scouts and Kills Something's people moved way out onto the Llano Estacado to hunt and feast. Westerly and I went along and enjoyed the new season of prosperity. Men went down to the Texas settlements, and even into Mexico, and returned with horses and captives. Quanah's party, though only five strong, enjoyed tremendous success, helping to build Quanah's reputation. As spring came on, the people broke into smaller camps and scattered across the
plains all along the great escarpment known as the Caprockâa continuous uplift stretching hundreds of miles and sculpted by eons of erosion into innumerable canyons. They knew that if they were attacked here by Texans, they could ascend the escarpment and flee onto the vast high plains where the Texans still feared to ride.
plains all along the great escarpment known as the Caprockâa continuous uplift stretching hundreds of miles and sculpted by eons of erosion into innumerable canyons. They knew that if they were attacked here by Texans, they could ascend the escarpment and flee onto the vast high plains where the Texans still feared to ride.
The spring and summer was a good one for Kills Something's people, though I knew Little Bluff and his Kiowa and Comanche followers were stirring up trouble to the north, raiding wagon trains on the Santa Fe Trail, attacking camps and ranches, and even riding into lonely New Mexican villages to kill and steal. I feared this would bring retribution down on all of us. Through Comanche travelers, we also heard of soldiers attacking Cheyenne, Arapaho, and Sioux camps for reasons no one could explain. We even heard that the old Cheyenne chief Lean Bear, a longtime friend of whites, had been murdered by soldiers without warning or reason. In retaliation, some Cheyenne warriorsâespecially the Dog Soldiersâhad raided ranches and stagecoach stations, killing and taking captives and loot. All this worried Westerly, for most of her family still lived out on the plains with the roving Cheyennes.
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WHEN THE GRASS got high enough to provide ample graze, Westerly and I gathered a large herd of horses we had acquired in trade, and rode back to Adobe Walls to rendezvous with John Prowers and his wife, Amache, who was, of course, Westerly's sister. Kills Something sent four young men to escort us and help us with the horses. We found John and Amache already in camp, waiting for us. They had raised a fine Cheyenne lodge just outside of Adobe Walls. Inside the walls, John had constructed a makeshift corral for his horses, and a fortification of sorts, should some hostile party attack, be it Pawnee, Apache, or a renegade band of Rebel deserters.
Westerly immediately went off with her sister, whom she had not seen in months. John and I had the chance to converse in the shade of a brush arbor he had raised inside the adobe walls, for the spring days had begun to get very warm around high noon, and the shade was welcome. He had built the arbor
in a place where the southern breeze could snake through the ruins of Fort Adobe, making the place quite comfortable. I sat on a small keg of black powder, leaned against the adobe wall, and whittled on a set of bois d'arc stake pins I was making to keep the best of the horses safe from theft during our coming trip to William's stockade. John lounged across the ground in the shade of the arbor. He always seemed most comfortable sprawled out on the earth herself.
in a place where the southern breeze could snake through the ruins of Fort Adobe, making the place quite comfortable. I sat on a small keg of black powder, leaned against the adobe wall, and whittled on a set of bois d'arc stake pins I was making to keep the best of the horses safe from theft during our coming trip to William's stockade. John lounged across the ground in the shade of the arbor. He always seemed most comfortable sprawled out on the earth herself.
“Nobody thought Kit could do it,” he was saying. “Everybody thought the Navahos were untouchable up in those canyons. Kit came at them from the westâout of a new fort they built in Arizona country, called Fort Canby, after you-know-who. Kit had orders to kill any braves he found on sightâlike you and him did with the Mescaleros.”
I winced a little at the memory, but John did not notice.
“A lot of the same men you fought with at Valverde are still with ol' Kit. They were all eager to see Canyon de Chelly and, by God, they did. They rode into that canyon and took to huntin' Indians. Killed a few. Captured some women and children. A couple of squaws were killed, I think, by accident or something. But the main thing was, Kit found their crops. He had his boys chop down three thousand peach trees up in one of those side canyons. Three thousand! And they had squash, and pumpkins, and beans. There was a cornfield in there that Kit told me took three hundred men all day to destroy.”
“You've talked to Kit yourself?” I set aside a finished stake pin, and picked up another bois d'arc stob to whittle on.
John nodded. “Saw him in Santa Fe last February. He told me all about it. Said destroying those crops hit the Navahos harder than a thousand bullets could have hit 'em. But that was only the start. The Navahos fought back. They attacked supply trains and killed or wounded some teamsters and enlisted men on escort duty. They even ran off a herd of mules from Fort Canby, right under Kit's nose. That got General Carleton plenty mad back in Santa Fe, and he sent orders to Kit to stop coddling the Navahos and go into Canyon de Chelly and roust 'em.”
“I've heard some fantastic tales about that canyon.”
“Kit said it beats just about all he's ever seen. The walls go up a thousand or fifteen hundred feet. There's water in hidden
places up the side canyons. Said there's regular stone houses two and three stories high built into the cliffs. Some places the main canyon's miles wide, but there's other places in the side canyons where a man has to turn sideways to slip through. The Navahos would shoot down from those cliffs and roll boulders down, too. In fifty-eight, Colonel Miles scouted the entrance and said no command should ever enter it. But Kit had orders to do just that.”
places up the side canyons. Said there's regular stone houses two and three stories high built into the cliffs. Some places the main canyon's miles wide, but there's other places in the side canyons where a man has to turn sideways to slip through. The Navahos would shoot down from those cliffs and roll boulders down, too. In fifty-eight, Colonel Miles scouted the entrance and said no command should ever enter it. But Kit had orders to do just that.”
“I don't guess General Carleton cared to lead the campaign himself.”
John chuckled. “No, he left it to Kit. But you know how cautious Kit is. He thought it out and planned. He waited till it snowed, knowing the Indians would be near starving by then. He set up a supply camp at the west canyon entrance and sent out parties to explore, kill warriors, capture women and children, and destroy any more food they could find.”
“Ruthless business,” I grumbled. I didn't like the sound of it at all. Kit destroying crops? Starving Navaho children in the middle of winter? This was the man who always asked what was
right.
right.
“Kit said it was the only way to stop the Navaho raids.” John sat up suddenly, and drew two ragged lines, roughly parallel, in the loose dirtâa crude map of Canyon de Chelly. With his trigger finger, he made a point at the west end. “After Kit set up his camp at the west entrance to the canyon, here, he sent Captain Pfeiffer way around to the east entrance of the canyon.” He scraped a half-circle in the dirt that went far to the south and entered the east opening between the lines. “Pfeiffer fought his way through firstâeast to westâand turned up at Kit's supply camp with prisoners and a few scalps. Well, that ended the mystery as to whether or not a company of soldiers could make it through the canyon. Took all the fight out of the Indians, and Kit's boys started to mop up. Next thing you know, Navahos were coming into Fort Canby to surrender by the hundreds. There was more than three thousand of 'em before it was all over.” He dusted his hands and lay back down on the ground, propped up on one elbow.
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