Lay the Mountains Low

by Terry C. Johnston

  Then just a few days ago Chariot and some of his fighting men had ridden off to join those soldiers who planned to block the trail—so Eagle and his men decided to find another place to lay back out of sight, somewhere they might let events on the Lolo take their own course. But when the Nee-Me-Poo managed to slip around the foolish soldier chief, Eagle’s band figured they could no longer ride the fence. Agent Ronan had plainly shown that he did not care to have Eagle’s allegiance, so … Eagle-from-the-Light, Lean Elk, and the others figured they would feel out the mood of things in that Non-Treaty camp.

  This first morning after the debacle up the Lolo Canyon, those ten warriors led their women and children down the Bitterroot valley to find the Non-Treaty village.

  “Last time I saw you was in your camp at Pitayiwahwih on the Clearwater, Looking Glass,” Lean Elk confided to the garrulous chief.

  “Yes—just after you cut your leg carving the wood to make another one of your fine saddle frames,” Looking Glass replied to the short, stocky half-breed. “Do you still limp like you did when you left to ride back to Montana?”

  “I do,” Lean Elk explained, patting his thigh. “But the wound is getting better.”

  Looking Glass snorted with laughter, “I hope you are getting better using a knife, too!”

  “It is a good thing he cut his leg,” Bird Alighting said with a smile as he came through the crowd. “He cannot race his horse against us until his wound heals!”

  Their good-natured ribbing carried the weight of truth to it. Named Joe Hale by the Shadows over in Idaho country, Lean Elk was widely known for his love of gambling, betting on everything from horse races—this past spring he had beaten all the best ponies the Flathead could bring against him—to his favorite card game, poker. In fact, the white man had given Lean Elk a nickname, too, one that stuck to him much better than Joe Hale. Poker Joe, it was.

  Considered a subchief among Eagle’s band—his wife’s people—this mixed-blood French-Canadian métis* of Nez Perce descent was a good Shadow talker, too, able to keep up with most any white man in the white man’s difficult tongue. Still, even that did not help Lean Elk when he returned from Idaho to the Bitterroot not long after he had cut his leg while visiting Looking Glass’s people on the Clear-water. The deep, nasty gash gave him a decided limp—leading most Shadows to believe that he had been wounded in the fighting between the Nee-Me-Poo and the soldiers west of the Bitterroot.

  Truth was, Poker Joe had cleared out of that camp, eager to recross the mountains with his family and rejoin Eagle-from-the-Light’s band, just two days before the suapies attacked Looking Glass’s village, driving the Asotin people right into the ranks of those disaffected warriors already creating havoc up and down the Salmon and boiling across the Camas Prairie. Over here in the Bitterroot, Poker Joe and his friends heard delayed reports of all the fighting on the Cottonwood, as well as that long two-day battle on the Clearwater. While a few of Eagle’s young men thought they would like to be a part of the fighting, Lean Elk and most of the others had decided it best they stay out of the troubles and keep their relations with the valley settlers good.

  But now that the Non-Treaty bands had come to the banks of the Bitterroot River, Eagle-from-the-Light’s people decided they might do well to join up. If all the Shadows in this part of Montana Territory were in an uproar over the Idaho bands, it might be wisest for Eagle’s small outgunned group to join up with the hundreds for the safety of their numbers. And if the fighting truly had ended and the war was left behind them back in Idaho—so much the better! Since he, better than most any other Nee-Me-Poo, carried in his head all that terrain and geography of the buffalo country, it might just be time for Poker Joe to suggest another hunt on the plains.

  Late the following afternoon three more newcomers showed up about the time the village was going into camp, having marched no more than a leisurely handful of the white man’s miles that day. That trio of Nee-Me-Poo warriors rode among the lodges and celebrants, many of the bands noisily calling out their greetings to the new arrivals who were just returning from the country of the E-sue-gha* For more than a year now, Grizzly Bear Youth and his two companions—Tepsus, called Horn Hide Dresser, and a Yakima scout named Owhi—had been scouting for the Bear Coat,** the soldier chief who was waging a very telling war on the Lakota from his log fort raised at the mouth of the Tongue River.

  That evening, the chiefs called on the three to meet with them in council, seeking to learn more about the best path to take to the buffalo.

  “The Bear Coat’s fort lies east of the Bighorn,” Grizzly Bear Youth explained. “He is the best suapie chief I know in tracking down an enemy, no matter how bad the weather.”

  “Not like Cut-Off Arm, still sitting way back there in Idaho country!” White Bird snorted with a wry laugh. “I think we should rename him Never Going to Fight Until Tomorrow!”

  “If you go to E-sue-gha country,” Grizzly Bear Youth warned grimly as the laughter died, “I think the army will tell the Bear Coat to stop you. I recommend you stay away from that soldier chief at all costs.”

  Now it was Looking Glass’s face that turned grave with worry. “You are warning us we should not go to the land of the E-sue-gha?”

  Grizzly Bear Youth shook his head. “Go there if you must, but just stay as far away from the Bear Coat as you can. Indeed, we must now stay as far away as we can from any soldiers.”

  “So where would you have us go?” White Bird demanded impatiently. “If we have been driven out of our own homeland and we are not welcome to stay here in the Bitterroot valley—if we can’t go to live and hunt with the E-sue-gha—where are the free Nee-Me-Poo to go?”

  “To the Old Woman’s Country,” Grizzly Bear Youth declared with enthusiasm.

  “To join up with the Buffalo Bull Who Rests on the Ground?” Looking Glass asked skeptically. “He is an enemy of ours. You yourself have just returned from fighting the Lakota for this Bear Coat. All of you know that I have fought the Lakota more than once. So how can I ever go to the Old Woman’s Country to live with such a fierce Lakota leader?”

  “He has run away from the army, too!” Grizzly Bear Youth argued. “No different from any of you leaders—even Joseph there. You are running away to the east, leaving the army behind. Buffalo Bull Who Rests on the Ground ran north to get away from the army, just like you have.”*

  White Bird wagged his head, appearing confused. “Why should we go north like they have?”

  “With my own eyes I have seen what the soldiers can do to the mighty Lakota,” Grizzly Bear Youth explained. “So I think it is folly to consider that we can continue to fight against the government and its army. For the sake of our families, we should just turn aside and go north as quickly as we can.”

  “How would we get to this Old Woman’s County from here?” Toohoolhoolzote asked.

  Grizzly Bear Youth explained, “The shortest way is to turn directly north. March past Missoula City; continue across the Flatheads’ reservation. Just beyond it lies the country where the army can bother us no more.”

  There was some downhearted muttering in the group, men murmuring among themselves in low tones—yanking on the question this way, tugging on it that way, like a woman would stretch a wet piece of rawhide. Poker Joe thought he liked the idea of going north through the Flathead reservation. The Flathead owned many good horses. This past spring he had raced against some of the finest. Perhaps on their way north to the Old Woman’s Country, he could adopt some of those Flathead horses for his own, taking them across the Medicine Line to race against the Lakota!

  That’s when he cleared his throat. The chiefs looked in his direction. Poker Joe was not an important leader like the rest of them, not even as big as Eagle-from-the-Light. But he had something significant that needed saying.

  “If you will think about it: These days we have more in common with Buffalo Bull Who Rests on the Ground than we have differences with the Lakota.”

  No one spoke for sever
al minutes. The large fire crackled. Moccasins shuffled. Some bystanders coughed nervously. And women standing in the ring around the seated men hushed the noisy play of small children.

  Toohoolhoolzote turned to White Bird. “Who wants to go to the Old Woman’s Country?”

  Old White Bird immediately raised both his spindly arms in a most dramatic fashion. “I believe it is time to consider a vote.”

  “To vote on what?” Looking Glass snapped uncertainly, his eyes darting over the others.

  “Who agrees with Grizzly Bear Youth that we should march north through the Flathead’s reservation?” White Bird proposed. “Start north from here to the Old Woman’s Country?”

  Poker Joe looked over the six chiefs who were present. White Bird had his arm up even as he asked for the vote. Then Red Echo raised his hand, too. For a long moment, the elderly, white-headed leader of the Salmon River band waited for more to join the two of them, but they were the only votes for turning north.

  Looking Glass leaped to his feet and swaggered over to stand behind White Bird’s shoulder, looking smug as a sparrow hawk with a fat deer mouse clamped in its beak. “I think these other leaders remember so well how Chief Chariot and his Flathead warriors joined the suapies in that silly attempt to bar our way into this valley. Since the Flat-head are no longer our friends, to march north through their country now would be very, very dangerous.”

  “Chariot’s Flathead are no danger to us!” Red Echo protested vigorously. “Without many guns and much ammunition, the Flathead need the white men to protect them. They are no threat to us by themselves!”

  Looking Glass strenuously shook his head. “I will never trust the Flathead again!”

  “So what do you propose?” Rainbow asked.

  “Yes,” Sun Necklace demanded. “Which way do we go to avoid the soldiers?”

  “For many summers I always took the shortest way,” Looking Glass explained. “From here we ride north and east, up the Big Blackfoot River, over the pass, and down to the plains at the Sun River.”

  “But that way is blocked by a suapie post,”* Five Wounds argued.

  “Or we could go a more southerly route to the Three Forks country and on to the Yellowstone,” Looking Glass proposed.

  “And that is blocked by the suapies at another post,”* protested Rainbow.

  “So where would you have us end up, Looking Glass?” Sun Necklace growled. “Right in the jaws of more soldiers?”

  “Lean Elk, who knows the way, tells me we are less than five or six easy marches from the head of the Bitterroot valley,” Looking Glass explained as Poker Joe nodded. The heads were turning to look at him in a different light now. “Once we get there, we drop over the mountains and are but a few more days from the buffalo country.”

  Five Wounds exclaimed, “It’s a good way, Lean Elk! Maybe go through the Land of Smokes, out along the Stinking Water River. The road that way is open, with plenty of grass and not many whites, all the way!”

  “Yes,” Rainbow echoed. “That route avoids the soldier forts and the big mining camps, too!”

  Wheeling an arm across the entire assembly, courting not only the handful of other chiefs but more so the audience of hundreds, Looking Glass moved the question, “Who votes for going on to the E-sue-gha country with me to hunt buffalo?”

  As the Asotin chief’s own arm shot into the air, his eyes raked over the group. Rainbow and his spirit brother, Five Wounds, immediately added their illustrious reputations to the vote in favor of the buffalo country.

  Now Looking Glass slowly turned to the only chief who had not spoken out his wishes. “Joseph?”

  “As before, there is nothing for me to vote on, Looking Glass,” the Wallamwatkin chief said.

  “Speak your mind, Joseph,” White Bird prodded.

  “When we were fighting in our homeland, there was a reason for us to fight, and for our men to die,” Joseph declared. “But since we have left our country behind, it matters little to me. I am not in favor of taking my people far away to the Old Woman’s Country … but neither am I in favor of taking my people far away to the land of the E-sue-gha to live. We already have a home. We have a country of our own.”

  “If we go to the land of the E-sue-gha, we must all go united,” White Bird warned.

  “I agree with Joseph,” Pile of Clouds suddenly spoke, surprising many in the council. “Why go to the land of the Sparrow Hawk people when we have a home of our own already? The land of the E-sue-gha is too open for good fighting—and we will have to fight the Bear Coat’s suapies there, sooner or later.”

  “You want us to march back over the Lolo now that we have just arrived here?” Looking Glass asked with a trembling fury, clearly angry with the testing by this young tewat.

  Pile of Clouds shook his head. “No, we go by the southern pass,* move quickly back to the Salmon River country where we will have the mountains and timber. That is the country good for fighting the soldiers.”

  Joseph nodded. Many of the others were looking at the Wallowa chief now. However, Poker Joe turned to Looking Glass, realizing what the angry Asotin chief must be thinking. Joseph was leader of the largest Non-Treaty band. His reluctance to come east had become like a sharp thorn in the Asotin chief’s side.

  Looking Glass suddenly loomed over Joseph, asking, “Did you, or did you not, with these other chiefs, elect me for leader through this country?”

  “Because you knew this country and the people here,” Joseph agreed.

  “And did you not promise me that I should have the whole command to do with as I thought best?”

  “Perhaps the E-sue-gha will help us as you say, Looking Glass. But in these two choices that you and White Bird have given us, I have no words,” Joseph admitted to that hushed audience. “You know the country and I do not. So I can make no vote—”

  Triumphant once more. Looking Glass whirled away from Joseph without even waiting respectfully for the man’s words to drift away into silence. His voice thundered over them all.

  “To the buffalo country!”

  *His father was said to be a Canadian voyageur, once employed by the Hudson’s Bay Company of Adventurers.

  *The Crow.

  **Colonel Nelson A. Miles, Fifth U. S. Infantry, stationed on the Yellowstone River in Montana Territory, serving under Lieutenant G. C. Doane. See Wolf Mountain Moon, vol. 12, and Ashes of Heaven, vol. 13, the Plainsmen series.

  *When the Lakota warrior bands considered waging their last great fight against the U. S. Army, they went so far as to invite all of their traditional enemies to a great council that was held in eastern Montana Territory, during the summer of 1875. It is indicative of the esteem the Lakota held for the Nez Perce that the Non-Treaty bands were invited to this council. In the buffalo country at that time, Looking Glass and Eagle-from-the-Light both attended. Even Joseph came from the Wallowa to listen to the Lakota proposal of a strategic alliance.

  *Fort Shaw.

  *Fort Ellis.

  *Today’s Lost Trail Pass.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  JULY 30-AUGUST 1, 1877

  Fort Lapwai

  July 30, 1877

  Mamma Dear,

  … John left on Friday and I am lonely without him, but I would not be any place else than here for anything, as here I can hear from him every time anything goes in or out to General Howard. I heard this morning from Kamiah, and I will enclose John’s letter…

  The Indians, it is supposed, have gone off over that Lolo Trail to Montana. A dispatch from the Governor of Montana says a great number of ponies, women, and children, with a lot of wounded men, had come over the Lolo Trail, and he had not force to stop them. No one knows whether Joseph and his warriors have gone over there too, or whether they just got rid of their families and helpless men so they could make the better fight themselves. General Howard is determined to find them and has formed two columns. The one he commands himself will follow over the trail the Indians took into Montana. The other goes north t
hrough the Spokane country and joins General Howard’s column sometime in September over at Missoula where General Sherman will meet them. Then, if the trouble is not over, a winter campaign will be organized, but we hope it will be over even before that…

  Mrs. Hurlbut, the poor little laundress I have mentioned in several of my letters, the one who lost her husband in that first terrible fight, was here staying in my house at nights all that first month. She is expecting daily to have another baby, and she was afraid, in case of an alarm at night, she would not be able to get across the parade to the breastworks. So she asked me if she could bring her children and sleep up with our servant girl, Jennie, which she did until lately, since our fear for the post is over. She is a nice little woman, and her children are as nice as I know. She is left destitute. After her sickness, we will all help her. A purse will be raised to take her back to her friends…

  Doctor, I expect, is marching up the mountains today, farther and farther away from us. How I hate the army and wish he was out of it! I hope they won’t find any Indians, and I hope he will come back to me safe and sound … I don’t see what they do want with John on that Lolo Trail … Sometimes when I think what might happen out there, I get half distracted, but I fight against it and keep my mind occupied with other things, and I plan for John’s coming home …