Authors: Janelle Taylor
Shortly before sunrise but as soon as there was sufficient light to see the trail ahead, War Eagle embraced Cloud Chaser and cautioned, “Stay alert, my brother, for the white man is sly and dangerous. They are many and you are one. After we have tracked and spoken with our Brule allies, we will camp at the chosen spot near Fort Laramie to wait for word from you.”
Cloud Chaser then clasped wrists with Swift Otter, his cousin Broken Lance, and River’s Edge, the twin brother of Macha. To the last man, he urged, “If I do not return and my spirit rejoins the Creator, take care of my beloved wife and son. Let no man or force harm them.” After River’s Edge nodded, Cloud Chaser warned the others, “If I am taken captive at the fort, do not try to rescue me. I will find a way to escape them. I go now. May the Great Spirit protect and guide all of us in our journeys.”
“Heyapi,”
the other men voiced in unison as they agreed,
It is said.
On Tuesday, September 11, Cloud Chaser reached his target, five days after he left his brother and companions at Ash Hollow. It was evident the military post was strategically positioned atop a lofty and almost flat bluff overlooking the Laramie River, eastward of the Laramie Mountains and the vast stretch of the Rockies. The wisely chosen site provided well for the troops, trappers and hunters, traveling peddlers,
adventurers, prospectors and explorers heading farther west, and for passing homesteaders. The river offered an ample water supply; the grasslands, grazing for their stock; the North Platte Road and two emigrant trails, a connection to forts and trading posts in both directions; many animals for fresh meat; assorted birds and fish for additional sustenance; and nearby forests for lumber.
As with his last visit, there still was no stockade encompassing its structures and cannons, as if the army did not fear an Indian attack and was evincing its bravado and confidence. Some of the structures included barracks, stables, bakery, sutler’s store, smithy, lumber shed, saddlery, magazine, guardhouse, supply storages, and officers’ quarters. He noted there was more housing for soldiers and remembered that construction of them was in progress late last summer. Most of them had two stories, many windows, railed porches, and highpitched roofs with multiple chimneys jutting from them. They were situated around an enormous parade ground with a tall staff, from which the American flag danced about in a strong wind.
Fort John, a big adobe building that had first served this area and now belonged to the American Fur Company for trading with trappers and Indians, sat close to the river bluff. Unlike the new fort, John had two guard towers and an adobeenclosed yard for protection against “hostiles,” as well as two brass cannons and—he recalled—weapons within the workers’ easy reach.
On a grassy area below one section of the extensive bluff, Cloud Chaser glimpsed a few homes, no doubt for officers, and other unknown structures. Beyond them was a cluster of Indian tepees where the
waglukhe
camped and lived year-round as beggars. The “Loafers,” outcasts or deserters from various bands, were viewed by the Indians as being “lazy” and “worthless” because they had become dependent upon the white man for survival and no longer practiced and honored “The Old Ways.” The men seemed satisfied to allow
their wives and daughters to do laundry, to clean quarters and homes and offices, and to prostitute themselves to the soldiers and fur company men. While their women were busy earning meager amounts of money or trade goods, they either sat—alone or in small groups—on tattered rush mats or lay around on worn and dirty and smelly buffalo hides sleeping, or drinking, or gambling. A few of the women were said to be squaws of some soldiers, but those men were not allowed to marry Indians under white law or to make a home with them. All those unfortunate bluecoats could do was “visit” their females while off-duty and support them to keep them nearby.
Not so, Cloud Chaser thought, where the other and larger Indian camp was situated along the river a short distance away. That was the camp of Red Cloud of the Bad Faces Oglala band, a chief who was respected and liked by Indians, white men, and soldiers. Red Cloud endured the whites’ presence and travels across Lakota lands. He traded with them, but did not accept handouts; nor had he given up “The Old Ways.” He believed it was wise to learn all he could about the intruders, and to retain peace with them for as long as possible, though he also believed that a great war would come between the two cultures in the future. He had made certain the army knew he and his band were not involved in and did not condone the Grattan slaughter. He was considered a great thinker, speaker, leader, and warrior.
Cloud Chaser hoped their paths did not cross while he was at the fort, as Red Cloud knew him to be Rising Bear’s son from parleys last summer and autumn, so the chief could unintentionally expose him to the soldiers.
Cloud Chaser knew his way around the site from a visit there in May of last year before he traveled to the trading post called Fort Pierre, now truly a fort, and then made contact with his family and people. As he attempted to earn their trust and acceptance, he had visited this fort several more times during the summer and fall to gather information about
the enemy. As he got closer to the setting, he smelled bread being prepared in the bakery, animal droppings from the stables and stock corral, and that indescribable but noticeable scent that only plains grass, dust, and the late summer air seemingly possessed.
He saw men unloading wagons, soldiers checking or repairing their gear, men tending the stock, a few standing guard, and the brilliant sun reflecting off windows and the river’s surface. He heard saws as those tools sliced through wood at the lumber shed, the combined voices and intermingled laughter of many of the post’s inhabitants, horses neighing and cows mooing, the shrill cries of a hawk overhead, the American flag popping in a strong breeze, the smithy’s hammer as he shod army horses, and the prairie wind whistling past his ears. He felt calm yet tense, assured yet skeptical, ready for and yet dreading the hazardous challenge ahead. No, his keen mind refuted, not dreading the challenge, but dreading what he would discover and how it would affect his and his loved ones’ lives.
He reined in his horse and dismounted at the sutler’s store, having decided to make his first stop where he could renew a past acquaintance with its owner and perhaps glean important information. He stroked the sorrel’s neck to reassure Red in the strange setting and to let him know it was all right to drink from the water trough. He strolled into the store, approached the long wooden counter, smiled, and said, “Been a long time, Ben, way last year. Do you remember me? I’m Chase Martin.”
The sulter grinned and nodded. “Sure do, Chase. Where you been since you passed through here last summer? Git any trappin’ done?”
Cloud Chaser casually leaned against the counter, removed his hat, and cocked one booted ankle over the other. “Nope. Just been riding around the territory doing odd jobs here and there, enough to keep me supplied with grub and ammo. I figured I’d better stop by and see what’s happening,
‘cause it sounds like there’s gonna be trouble in these parts again. I heard the army’s getting ready for a big fight with them Lakotas over that Grattan mess last year. Is that what you’ve heard?”
“Lord come Sunday, I done heard plenty about it, and none of it sits straight with me. From what they’re spoutin’, Old Harney should be here soon and bringin’ more troops than a woman can shake dirt from a rug. It’s all them soldiers talk about these days. Half of ‘em is ready and champin’ at the bit for a fight; the other half is sceared pissless to face them Indians on their huntin’ grounds. If you ask me, Harney ain’t got no idear what he’s about to come up against. Them Indians ain’t gonna run and hide from him and his boys and they ain’t gonna surrender their land without a fight. He’s plain and simple crazy to order them out of their territory. Lord come Sunday, the army signed it over to them in that treaty. Now, they want to shove ‘em out of it? Crazy, just plain crazy. He’ll have us in an all-out bloody war before winter drops its first snowflake. He’ll probably take ever’ spare man here with him on his wild hunt. Atop no emeegrant travel come winter, I’ll be doin’ good just to survive half starvin’ with so little bidness.”
To delude the sutler and learn all he could from the talkative man, Cloud Chaser smiled and said, “Sounds as if you have it reasoned out right to me. In my way of thinking, there’s no guessing what the Lakotas and their allies will do if Harney challenges them to war. It could even draw some of their enemies into a conflict that size. You can bet your store some of those Pawnee and Crow bands will try to take advantage of the situation while the Lakotas have their eyes looking elsewhere, or if they offer to scout for the army so the soldiers can destroy or weaken the Sioux for them.”
As Cloud Chaser shifted his position, he said, “Yep, Harney can stir up a hornet’s nest if he isn’t careful. He could have whites fighting Indians, and Indians fighting Indians again, and have this territory in an uproar. I don’t
know how much Harney knows about Indians in these parts, but by now they’ve finished their buffalo hunts and are getting ready to settle in somewhere for the winter. They’ll be well supplied with food and may be eager for a diversion. You know how warriors like to practice their fighting skills and take on big challenges, and they haven’t been given many chances to kick up dust since they were ordered not to raid longtime enemies.”
“Word around here is Old Harney has tangled with Indians afore. He took on Apaches and Navahos durin’ the Mexican fracus, and Seminoles and some others over Florida way some years back. I’m a-guessin’ he’s fairly good at goin’ against their tricks and skills. Leastwise that’s what his boys think.”
Cloud Chaser found that news disturbing. Yet, he reasoned, “I haven’t been down Florida or Mexico ways, but from what I’ve learned about those places and ruckuses, they’re nothing like this area or the Lakotas.”
“You could have the right of it, Chase, and I guess we’ll know soon.”
“I’m afraid so, Ben, but I’m dreading it. I kinda like this territory, so I hate to see it spoiled and dangerous to travel ‘cause of a misunderstanding over a dumb cow. From what I’ve heard, there’s been little trouble around here since last year, so Harney would be smart to leave them be, especially this late in the year. Sounds reckless to provoke them so close to winter on ground they know well and he doesn’t.” He saw the older man nod in agreement, then scowl before the sulter revealed why.
“They surely ain’t helpin’ themselves prevent it. A band of ‘em rode right up to the quartermaster’s corral and made off with fifty or more horses just yesterday. You can bet the last coin in your pocket that ain’t gonna sit straight with Old Harney when he gits here.”
“I didn’t notice any heavy guard when I rode in. That seems a mite strange since there was a raid yesterday.” He
could not help wondering if that theft was committed by Spotted Tail’s and/or Little Thunder’s depleted bands either in retaliation for the Blue Water Creek massacre or to obtain horses to use for escape and for hunting to replace their lost meat and hides. Both chiefs had promised Sitting Bull last autumn they wouldn’t make any more raids after the Grattan incident unless they were provoked, so yesterday’s theft—he reasoned—must have been the result of Harney’s challenge. “Did anybody recognize any of the raiders?”
“Nope, it happened too fast and it was almost dark when they struck. Major Hoffman has a troop out lookin’ for tracks now, but it ain’t likely they’ll git them horses back. I’m a-bettin’ them Indians are long gone from around here, and Hoffman don’t want his boys ridin’ too far away. He has lookouts posted, but they’re stayin’ hid. And he’s got his boys on alert while they do their duties so they can act fast if another raid is attempted. That’s why I ain’t busy today. Lord take Sunday, it’s as quiet as a snowfall in here.”
With soldiers scouring the area for renegade Indians, Cloud Chaser was glad War Eagle and his companions weren’t already waiting for him nearby. He also was glad that Ben wasn’t busy so they could have this enlightening exchange. “The more we talk, Ben, the worse it sounds to me.”
“That ain’t the all of it, Chase. Mr. Cummin’, he’s the Superintendent of Indian Affairs, he spoke hot and heavy against punishin’ all Sioux for what them renegade Brules did. Cummin’ said Capt’n Garnett—you might recall he was in charge here durin’ the Grattan fiasco—anyways, Garnett claimed the massacre wasn’t—let me think how he said it… I believe it was ‘the result of premeditation on the part of the Indians.’ But a few of the others talked stronger, so Cummin’ lost the vote. Those other men said too much had happened since that bloody event: robberies of fur companies and mail carriers, stages and way stations attacked, army horses and mules stolen, payrolls stolen, homesteaders attacked, and
settlers and soldiers have been kilt. The renegades convinced them-in-power no peace is possible.”
Cloud Chaser’s mind refuted,
It would be if the American government did right by the Indian and stopped trying to steal their lands and punish all Lakotas for the misdeeds of a few!
Yet, he assumed that was unlikely. “What about Agent Twiss? Which side of the battle line is he standing on?”
“Twiss sent messages to all of the tribes and warned ‘em the area designated as Lakota territory would be Harney’s target for reprisals, so all friendlies should move across the Platte River until this fracus is settled. Anybody who stays put is gonna be marked as a hostile and be attacked. Last month, Twiss told the Secretary of the Interior ‘the Sioux difficulties have been magnified by false and malicious reports. There is not, as I can find, within this agency, a hostile Indian. On the contrary, all are friendly.’ You think Harney and them-in-power are gonna believe that bunch of words and call off their plans? That’s about as likely as it bein’ hot here in January. I guess Twiss forgot about them raids and deaths since The Grattan Massacre the Army knows about. Even if most of ‘em happened last year right after that sorry fight, the horse stealin’ yesterday will prove him wrong and show Harney them Indians are still kickin’ up their heels and doin’ mischief.”