by Stephy Smith
“How do you propose we do that? Rising Wolf, we will lose many more people. There is but a handful left. Give Jerome a chance to sway the government into keeping promises they have made.”
“You don’t understand. Every day they allow more white settlers to come in and take our land. They have taken our buffalo, deer, and every form of meat source away from us. Our boundaries have been limited to where we can’t even pick berries and gather herbs outside our area.” He paced the banks of the river. His hands clenched and straightened as if he couldn’t make up his mind what he wanted them to do. Darkness prevailed in his narrowed eyes. Wrinkles creased the corner of his lips. His demeanor deteriorated as he talked, and she knew something was bothering him. “The men are talking.”
“I have heard of some.”
“The treaties have been broken. Congress’s promise to feed and clothe us has turned out to be lies. They will no longer house and protect us from the settlers.” He stopped pacing and turned to face her. “The warriors are restless. Their families are suffering. A Paiute man by the name of Wovoka had a vision.”
His pause caused her alarm. Her heart pounded as she waited for his words, for she too had heard of the man and his vision.
“Wovoka said in his vision he saw your Jesus; he returned to earth as an Indian. Jesus told him he would raise all our people above the earth, and the white man will disappear. Our land, buffalo herds, and the ghosts of our ancestors will return to walk with us. Then the Cheyenne will live in peace with nature once again.”
Falcon Woman heard the rustle in the trees and glanced in the direction of the noise. Under low-lying branches lay the doe, shaking her head side to side, and then she vanished.
“I don’t think it’s a wise decision to follow this Wovoka. I feel trouble brewing, and it seems to be centered on him and his vision. It will be winter soon, and the snow will be upon us. Rising Wolf, please think about what could come of the aggression this Paiute can bring on our people.”
“I will think on it.” Rising Wolf continued to stare into the river. She walked into the cabin and lay on the bed for a short time before exhaustion overcame her.
December 1890
Chapter Ten
Rising Wolf thought on Falcon Woman’s words. He knew she was right. Rising Wolf didn’t join in the “Ghost Dance” the Paiute man brought forth, nor did he wear the bulletproof Ghost Dance shirt. His wife had sent word to Red Eagle like she had promised.
He yearned to join the other warriors. A need to show his faith in Red Eagle warred in his consciousness. His promise to Falcon Woman reigned over the rest. Still the guilt twisted his thoughts into cowardice. How could he be a mighty war chief if he ran from a war he should fight?
Trouble throughout the village brewed. The men made bows and arrows while the women worked on tanning hides for their men to make shields. Murmurs around the camp had become secretive. The people didn’t know when the white man would step in and change the rules regarding the Indians again. Deep in Rising Wolf’s bones, the desire to join the Ghost Dance heated. If he hadn’t promised Falcon Woman to stay away, he would have gone to war with the rest of the warriors. She had been through enough without him waging war with the others. One more loss for the woman would be more than she could bear.
“Talk of the Ghost Dance is worrying the agents.” Falcon Woman’s breath sent shivers down his spine. Surprise shook him when he realized his wife thought of more than just the death of their son. He praised his wife’s ability to move on with her life.
“What do you think they will do?” The glance he cast at Falcon Woman lingered, and caused her brow to furrow.
“I’m not sure. Whatever they do, Rising Wolf, it won’t be good for the people.”
“Have you heard from Red Eagle?”
“No.” She lowered her eyes.
A lean warrior ran to Rising Wolf. “Sitting Bull is dead. The white man came to arrest him in his home. He resisted, and when the shots stopped, he was dead.”
Rising Wolf took a deep breath. “I’m positive the bloodshed will not end here. This is only the beginning.”
Confusion crossed Falcon Woman’s face. So many times in trouble she had the same look when weighing options for their destiny. It was as if she were trying to justify something he didn’t understand.
The warrior agreed and stormed back to the village.
For two weeks, the village buzzed of more blood to be spilled. There were few hunting parties leaving the villages. Disgust and humiliation of the talks of the white army disarming the Indians didn’t settle well with the people.
“I must visit my mother. It may be the last time I see her,” Rising Wolf told Falcon Woman.
“Then I must go with you.” There was nothing more he could say, once she made up her mind. They both knew the dangers, and if he refused, she would follow him anyway.
“We leave for Spotted Elk’s camp tonight.”
Falcon Woman nodded her head. Rising Wolf stared at the weakened body of his wife. Agony tore at him as he wondered if she could make the trip.
In the moonlight the cold blustery winds whipped across the land. The couple ducked their heads as the horses plodded into the midst of the storm.
Several times Rising Wolf had tried to convince his mother and father to join the people at Pine Ridge. With a definite no, his family stayed near Porcupine Butte. Even now with the threat of the weapon removal from the Indians, his family refused to budge. Without their weapons, the white soldiers assumed it would cut down on the Indian raids at the settler camps.
Rising Wolf’s heart clenched. Depriving his people of hunting grounds and fresh meat only stirred the anger in the Cheyenne and other tribes. Their trust in the government divided the once powerful chiefs. Some of them wanted to believe in the system; others wanted to fight it.
Rising Wolf shook his head to clear away the thoughts. He was sure whatever path was followed would end in tragedy for the Indians. The night dragged on. Unforgiving winds sharpened its cuts and stabs into Rising Wolf's face. With a twist of his head, he glanced back at his wife. Snow froze to her buffalo robes. With her head tilted, she clung to the mane of the horse as if she were a part of it.
Daylight made its appearance. His parents’ village was a short way away in the blur of snow. They reined their horses to a stop. Rising Wolf rushed Falcon Woman inside.
In the silence of the warm tipi, Rising Wolf and Falcon Woman ate with his family. The women cleared the dishes and the men talked.
“Father, you must take the family from here. The rumors are more these days. The whites are as restless as our people.”
His father was too old and decrepit to defend his family and tribe against the whites. Deep in his bones Rising Wolf shuddered at the thought of another massacre.
“My son, this is our home. We will stand and fight for the promise of the land from the whites.” His father’s eyes narrowed in the firelight. Rising Wolf knew what fight was left in his father would be spent on fighting the whites instead of his son.
He glanced to his mother. Her brow furrowed. More wrinkles than he remember lined the corner of her lips, and the luster had faded from her eyes. His brothers, Tall Grass and Prairie Sun, displayed an eagerness for war. Their eyes glowed with the excitement he hadn’t seen in a warrior in quite some time.
“If my family chooses to stand and fight, I too shall stand and fight beside them.” He glanced at Falcon Woman. He didn’t miss the disappointment on her face. She wasn’t used to the bitterness the people endured over time.
Snow muffled footsteps quieted the family. Before the occupants of the tipi could respond, the soldiers stormed inside with their weapons drawn. The orders to move out stunned the village. White flakes whipped around in the cold. The men, women, and children’s faces were etched with fear and confusion. None of the soldiers attempted to take the weapons from the people. They herded the Indians like animals to slaughter in the midst of the raging storm.
B
itterness enraged the village as they marched on. The group kept their heads down to keep the sting of the cold off their faces. With each grueling step, they waited for the soldiers to make a move and wage an all-out war. During the move, both the whites and the Cheyenne were silent and cautious.
The troops escorted the village to Wounded Knee Creek where they made their camp. Rising Wolf had a strong urge to sneak his family away from the impending doom brewing.
Sleep did not fall for the trapped family. They waited as if they were held before a firing squad. There was no news of how the others in the village took the upheaval. Rising Wolf was sure they were upset and ready to defend themselves against the enemy outside.
Tall Grass and Prairie Sun paced the large enclosure. Mountain Top, their father, motioned for the two men to sit. Storm Rider, their mother, sat behind her husband, cross-legged and silent, her hands clasped on her lap. Her eyes closed and the slight movement of her lips told Rising Wolf his mother was in prayer.
Did his father love his mother as much as he loved Falcon Woman? He had never seen his father abuse his mother. When it came to matters concerning the heart, he was no expert on any but his own.
Falcon Woman crouched beside him on her knees. Her white knuckles twisted in the fringe of her dress. Thick lashes covered her closed eyes. His desire to tell her that everything would be all right failed, for he also doubted the words.
What a selfish act he committed by bringing her into the middle of imminent destruction. If her white blood saved her life, she would have to live with the memory of loss and pain. Agony tore at him, ripping his insides piece by piece.
The silence grew thick. His nerves set on the edge of disaster. Rising Wolf had learned patience at an early age. Yet, this was different; he was no longer a child. His responsibility to keep his wife safe lay heavy on his shoulders. He wanted to pull her to him to comfort her. How could he drag her into a world she never seen before? He turned his gaze to the wall until a slight movement caught the corner of his eye.
His eyes shifted to Falcon Woman. Her form straightened, and he knew she also had been praying. She held her head high, and determination showed on her face. His chest filled with the pride and respect he held for her. She appeared as if she had prepared herself for battle.
Falcon Woman jumped at the gunshot from one of the other homes. Rising Wolf saw his chance as he listened for the soldiers’ steps to leave the area, and he rushed the family out of the confines. The deer waited by the edge of the trees, and he followed it deeper into the denseness, well out of range of the danger.
Screams from women and children haunted the air. Another round of gunfire echoed from behind them. His heart thudded in his chest. He prepared himself mentally for battle.
“Rising Wolf, you take Mother, Father, and Falcon Woman to your cabin. Tall Grass and I will stay and fight. Your mission is important to the people. We must not let them annihilate the tribe.” Prairie Sun clasped his forearm.
Rising Wolf opened his mouth to protest, to claim he was a mighty war chief, and one of them must take the family to safety. When he turned to them, his brothers were disappearing into the blinding storm.
Guilt shadowed Rising Wolf. He should stay and fight with the rest of the tribe. He whirled with a heavy heart and followed the deer deeper into the darkness of the storm.
The family crouched together and rested in the dense underbrush. Snowflakes whirled about as the blizzard encased the family. Rising Wolf motioned them to move out, and one after the other they followed him all through the night and the next day until they reached the security of his cabin.
“I’m going back. You stay here with Mother and Father.” He told Falcon Woman as he bent to stoke the fire.
“You heard your brothers. There is no reason why you should be so stubborn and risk your life getting back to a massacre. You know the soldiers had more men and cannons.” Falcon Woman’s fists clenched on her hips.
“Your woman speaks clear. You should not go back to be imprisoned or killed by the soldiers. There will be plenty more opportunities for the whites to dispense of our people,” Mountain Top declared.
Chapter Eleven
“Why can’t you help the Indians?” Jerome fought to stay calm.
“We have been trying to help them for years. They will not adapt to our rules.”
“You send them tainted meat. You won’t allow them to hunt for their own food. You keep them penned as if they were animals going to slaughter. The white men are the ones who break the treaties.”
“You are nothing but an Indian lover. We have no use for your kind here in D.C.”
“You are the one who hired me, sir, as an Indian agent, remember?”
The next morning Jerome stepped into the White House, clad in his buckskin and moccasins. He took his seat and glared at his peers.
“What is this get up, Tucker? Yesterday I thought I made myself clear. You are no longer needed here.”
He clutched a picture in his hand and approached Senator Donley. He scanned the men’s faces again. “Do you have a daughter who went west to be a school teacher, Senator Donley?”
“Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Bear with me. Where is she?”
“In the safe protection of Fort Collins. Get on with it, Tucker; we have business to tend to. The Indians are the least of our worries, and my daughter has nothing to do with them.”
“I beg your pardon, Senator. Your daughter has everything to do with it.”
“You are mistaken.”
“While your daughter was under the protection of the white men of Fort Collins, she was abducted by the commanding officer’s brother. A man by the name of Harvey Morgan took her to his cabin high on the mountain and chained her to a wall against her will. When she escaped, the evil white man shot her in the chest and pushed her into the icy river to die.”
Senator Donley’s face paled. His eyes grew wide.
“A man named Kale found your daughter and took her to his cabin and nursed her back to health with the help of his mother. When she recovered, they returned her to the fort, Senator Donley.”
“This is a lie!” The man’s face reddened.
“Are you calling your daughter a liar?”
“You are not my daughter.” The veins in Donley’s neck stood out.
“Your daughter would not lie to protect the man who did these things to her. The commanding officer had her thrown into a tiny block house with no windows, blankets, food, or water and left her there for days. When they released her, she couldn’t stand on her own, nor could she open her eyes in the blinding snow. He had his men drag her to the outskirts of an Indian camp and drop her in the midst of the blizzard. One of the elders of the tribe found her and sent for Kale, who, with his mother, transported her back to his cabin. Once again, he cleaned up after the army. She married the man and had seven kids. Two of which lived to be adults.”
“You don’t know what you are talking about! Get out of here with your lies and degrading attitude of the army.”
Jerome turned and headed for the door. He looked at the portrait of his family and turned abruptly. He strolled back to stand in front of Donley.
“I have lived among all of you for a couple of years. My mother has sent me several letters asking about you and your wife. She wishes you well. Her hopes were for you to understand and show compassion for her people.”
“I’m warning you Tucker, leave my daughter out of this. I don’t care what or who your mother is. I do not know the woman.”
“Is your daughter’s name Emma Donley?”
“Yes.” Donley’s eyes widened.
“Have you been to Colorado to see her?”
“No… but she has sent me several letters.”
“Kale Tucker, the man she married is also known as Silver Hawk, his mother is known as Woman With Small Voice. Emma is called Bright Eyes among the Cheyenne. She teaches the Cheyenne children. Emma and Kale Tucker’s child
ren are Amelia, or Falcon Woman; and Jerome, Red Eagle.” He tossed the photo on the desk in front of Senator Donley. “Tell me, Grandfather, is this not your daughter, whom you have abandoned and know nothing of her life?”
Donely’s face paled. “My daughter never would have married a lowlife Indian!”
“Your daughter would and did. Tell me, sir, why didn’t you recognize my last name when I first arrived? If you were, indeed close to her, you would have known she was married and surely, you would know what her last name is. By the way, she is fine and happy. Thanks for asking.” He carefully pulled the photo from Donley’s hand. “I believe this is mine.”
He strolled from the room, half expecting to be shot in the back. Once he stepped through the doors, he let out the breath he was holding and made his way to the house where his wife waited.
She stood on the porch with her hands twisted in her apron. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
“This man says we cannot go, Jerome. What is going on?” Tears threatened to spill over the brims.
“My wife tells me you refuse to let us leave. What have we done?” Jerome glared at the man.
“Senator Donely sent a messenger by horse requesting your detainment until he arrives.”
“I have nothing further to say to him. We shall take our leave of this place when I say.” He linked arms with Jo and escorted her into the house.
“I have everything packed up and ready to head home. I do not like living as the white woman. My spirit does not understand their way of thinking.” She moved into his embrace.
The knock at the door cut the embrace short. Jerome opened the door and stared into Donley’s eyes.
“May, I come in?” the man lowered his head.
Jerome stepped back so the man could enter. “Follow me.” He drew his wife along with him to the study.
“State your business, then leave.”
