Joseph M. Marshall III (36 page)

Crazy Horse knew that the trouble started long before he had selected a place along Cottonwood Creek for his camp, a short ride from Camp Robinson. It started when someone, perhaps Three Stars, told both Spotted Tail and Red Cloud that bringing in the last band of “wild” Indians would go far to strengthen their own status with the “great father.” Spotted Tail had been the first to make the long trip from the White Earth River, and he had smiled when he said the Lakota at his agency wanted for nothing. Red Cloud had met them along the way on the Powder River. Like Spotted Tail, he had brought gifts. “All is well,” he had said. “Come on in.”

So two men who had made strong reputations in the free-roaming days and had once looked down on agents and soldier leaders with the utmost disdain, were now forced to do their bidding or face losing the power given to them like one gives a toy to a child. After many of the soldier leaders at Camp Robinson came to Crazy Horse with questions about the Greasy Grass fight and the defeat of Long Hair, the two agency “chiefs” sent messages complaining to Three Stars. Perhaps there was no place for another agency “chief.” Crazy Horse thought to reassure his uncle and Red Cloud that he had no wish to be made a “chief” of any kind, but he knew anything he had to say to them would not be regarded as the truth.

But eventually the rumors did fly. It was said Three Stars would make Crazy Horse “chief” over everyone, including Spotted Tail and Red Cloud. To make matters worse, many of the lesser soldier leaders were themselves saying that Crazy Horse - could influence the younger men better than the two older leaders could. Through it all, he had tried to talk to Three Stars about the promise of the northern agency, day after day traveling to Robinson from Cottonwood Creek. He grew more and more frustrated each time the general had other responsibilities to attend to first. White Hat Clark sent a message as if to an impatient child. Three Stars was very busy working hard to care for fifteen thousand Lakota, not to mention some Sahiyela and Blue Clouds, and it was the “great father” who had the power to decide about agencies.

If you want your agency, some of Crazy Horse’s friends said carefully in low voices—for it was hard to know who might be listening—you will have to travel to their place of power where the “great father” lives and speak to him face to face. Of course, they warned, if Three Stars sends you ahead of Red Cloud or Spotted Tail, they will find a way to make it difficult for us while you are gone. They will find a way to take you down when you return.

He had no wish to travel to the “great father” and curry favor from a man he didn’t know. He would be out of place and only something for show, someone to perform for the powerful. Crazy Horse did not wish to be a thing of curiosity. Whites in the east country would see him as the killer of Long Hair and nothing else. And as the old men warned, power does not listen with honest ears to the whispers of the powerless. Furthermore, if there had been truthfulness in the promise of the northern agency, they would be there now. No use to go see the “great father,” they said. Stay and protect us against our own kind.

The mob of riders pushed the crowd aside at the edge of the town. Fast Thunder turned and spoke words Crazy Horse - couldn’t hear. Never had so many people gathered in one place since he had come to Camp Robinson. He grabbed the folded blanket from the withers of his yellow pinto and draped it over his arm. There had not been half this many fighting men at the Greasy Grass fight. There was a strange heaviness in the air like a gathering storm. He glanced toward He Dog, who was suddenly pressed in from both sides and forced to slow his horse. Touch the Clouds, too, was straining to stay close.

 

 

The young men had a plan. They would slip away one and two at a time and scatter their leaving over so many days so the soldiers wouldn’t notice their absence. There were nearly ten thousand men between the two agencies, some had heard. Who would miss a few? When enough had gone or all that wanted to had left, then Crazy Horse could slip away in the night and join them at a certain place to be agreed upon, on a certain day. They would have to think of ways to acquire guns and bullets, of course, but that could be done. With enough guns and good horses they could wage war against the whites. They could attack stagecoaches, small settlements, and freight wagons and get the soldiers to chase them out in the open where the big Long Knife horses were at a disadvantage. As a mounted force, the Lakota were much better fighters than the soldiers. Living off the land and without the burden of women and children to protect, they - could show the whites that the Lakota understood that killing was the way to win.

Crazy Horse had two concerns about the plan: the whites would retaliate by sending families to the south country, to that place called The Nations where people sicken and die, or, if that didn’t stop the raiders, they would start killing their families.

The young men said nothing more about the plan. But some did slip away, it was said, although no one spoke of them or - could remember exactly who they were. At times, it could not be remembered if any young men actually did slip away, especially when the whites were asking.

 

Fast Thunder turned and pointed toward the soldier commander’s house. The crowd of Lakota with a few soldiers among them flowed around the mounted mob, forcing them to stop. Crazy Horse recognized a few young men far back in the crowd from his camp and many of the angry faces all around him he recognized as well. Someone shouted, “Clear the way!” and the crowd moved back, but not far. Fast Thunder motioned for Crazy Horse to dismount and follow. Crazy Horse wrapped the folded blanket over his arm and dismounted. He Dog and Touch the Clouds had also dismounted and were pushing to get to him, but blue-coated Lakota scouts working for the soldiers moved in to block them.

 

People still complained and worried when he went off alone to think. The agents and the soldiers always wanted to know where he was every day. Perhaps it was his place to harangue the whites on behalf of the people, but he had never been one to speak long or loudly. Not long ago, that was a good thing for a man of the people, but now it was a weakness in the face of the whites who seemed to think only in large numbers and loud noises.

Showing weakness in front of his friends and relatives was not the thing to do, so he sought the solitude of Beaver Mountain and Crow Butte. Nothing seemed to exist beyond what he could see in any direction. His lands had grown small, it seemed.

The Sun Dance on top of Beaver Mountain had also been a celebration of the victory on the Greasy Grass. Five of his cousins had pierced and tied themselves to the sacred center tree in his honor. It had been a time of hope and remembering. For a few days, they had all felt strong again and some of the old pride returned to the eyes of some of the old ones. For a few days, they put aside the troubles and told stories, and remembered when they were powerful and flourished over the land.

But the worst trouble came when the Nez Perce—who were a mountain people from the northwest and had their own troubles with soldiers—were trying to escape to Grandmother’s Land and were soundly outfighting all the soldiers sent to stop them in the north country. Three Stars had asked for scouts from Crazy Horse’s men, hoping that it would take the edge off their restlessness, especially if Crazy Horse himself would join. They would be paid, Three Stars had said, and given a blue coat to wear and a rifle to carry. Three Stars was so certain Crazy Horse would become a scout that he had a blue coat sent to him with the messengers, a blue coat with the three stripes of a sergeant on the sleeves. And a paper had been signed to give him the pay money.

At the same time, White Hat Clark had taken the coats and rifles from two hundred fifty men from Spotted Tail and Red Cloud, saying he no longer needed them as scouts. Red Cloud was quick to complain, especially since he had not been made a sergeant of scouts. But Grabber—the black man from a land no one knew, and a speaks-white who was the go-between for the soldiers—had something to do with the troubles that followed. In reply to Three Stars’ offer Crazy Horse had replied, “If we take this trail, we will fight until no Nez Perce is left alive.” After the soldier leaders heard Grabber translate his words, they became nervous, and some became angry.

Three Stars also became very angry when Grabber told him Crazy Horse’s answer, and the offer of guns and blue coats and the chance to ride after the Nez Perce was taken back. The old men were glad because the Nez Perce were doing something the Lakota should be doing, they said—fighting for their freedom. Crazy Horse agreed. If he could help the Nez Perce, he would, he said to the old men.

White Hat Clark came one day to scold him for the words he had sent to Three Stars. The words Grabber had turned from Lakota to the white man’s language had only convinced Three Stars that Red Cloud had been right, that Crazy Horse could not be trusted.

It was his new wife, Nellie, herself a speaks-white, who helped him to understand Three Stars’ anger. Grabber, it seemed, had twisted his words, saying: “We will fight until no white man is left alive,” as Crazy Horse’s words.

Crazy Horse was aware that some in his camp were angry with him for taking the offer of a new wife, arranged by White Hat Clark, to help take the edge off his anger over the broken promise of the northern agency. She was the daughter of the trader Joe Larrabee and his Lakota wife. And perhaps she had taken some of the words spoken in his lodge with the old ones and warrior leaders to White Hat, but she had not lied about Grabber.

Clearly, the black man Grabber was working for Red Cloud.

 

The crowd moved like the swirling waters of a sudden bend in a stream and Crazy Horse lost sight of Fast Thunder as well as He Dog and Touch the Clouds. Lieutenant Lee was suddenly in front and pointing off to the left. A strong hand grabbed his arm just above the elbow. “Go that way,” a voice behind him said. It might have been Little Big Man in his blue soldier coat.

 

 

They stopped north of Camp Robinson and camped for three days, where they feasted and danced and knew the last taste of life without the whim of the white man hanging over them. It was a strange time, as if they were moving from the sunlight into shadow. At the place where sunlight and shadow meet, it is often difficult to see clearly either way. The sunlight seems too bright and the shadow too deep.

In no hurry to put their feet on the new road that awaited them, they broke camp leisurely and finally started toward Camp Robinson when the sun was well past its high point in the sky. Above the soldier town, they were met by White Hat Clark leading a small column of horse soldiers and Red Cloud with a few of his headmen. Clark and Red Cloud led them down into the valley.

His uncle Little Hawk, Big Road, He Dog, and Little Big Man—all dressed in their finest—rode with him, Little Big Man most defiant of all. Behind them came the fighting men, perhaps 150, then the long line of people, some walking, most riding, women holding the lead ropes to the travois horses, dogs and older children still playful even on this day.

This land was not unknown to the Crazy Horse people. Many had traveled this way before, often camping in this very valley with their Sicangu relatives. Off to the east a few days’ ride was the sandstone bluff where he had spent the night and dreamed his vision.

The soldier town was not as big as other white-man settlements. As they reached the outer edges, the blue-coat soldiers - could be seen, numbering just a few, among the hundreds of Lakota waiting to see them. Then his warriors began to sing a greeting song and the people behind them joined until it seemed everyone was singing. A song of greeting and peace, a hope lifted to the Grandfather that this new road would not be too difficult.

They followed White Hat past the fort, past all the watchers—both Lakota and white—to an open flat beyond the fort. Crazy Horse saw No Water and Woman’s Dress among the men riding with Red Cloud. When they stopped, White Hat told them they must give up their horses. There was surprise and grumbling among the warriors, but when Crazy Horse turned over his yellow pinto to the soldier in front of him, all was quiet, and a little at a time the horses were taken. The women worked fast to unhitch the drag poles from the travois horses.

The warriors talked low among themselves as they watched the horses being led away by soldiers and Lakota men wearing blue coats. Other Lakota, including Red Cloud, waited on their horses and watched. This was a new feeling for the Crazy Horse - people. A Lakota warrior without his horse was like sunrise without sunset.

Next, the lodges were pitched, and as the women worked, several white men walked among the people counting and marking on the papers they carried. White Hat Clark went to Crazy Horse and spoke through two men, Grabber and one called Garnier, both speaks-whites. The weapons were to be taken next, White Hat said. There was a silence as before when the horses were taken. And, as before, Crazy Horse was the first to give his rifle to White Hat. One long, silent, angry moment later, the warriors began to lay down their weapons.

It was a time, that first afternoon at Camp Robinson, many - people remembered and talked about often. But, of course, it was not a good remembering. Almost in the same breath they wondered how it was up north and if the elk in the Shining Mountains would be fat this year.

 

The soldier commander’s house was off to the right, in the direction Fast Thunder had disappeared. Suddenly Crazy Horse was being taken to another place. Perhaps Three Stars and Randall were waiting elsewhere. The surge of the men all around them wouldn’t let him turn.