Man on Two Ponies

by Don Worcester

  “When we left Wovoka, he said, ’On your way home, if you kill a buffalo, cut off the head, tail, and all four feet and leave them. The buffalo will come to life again.’ We thought there were no buffalo left, but we saw several and killed one. We did as Wovoka ordered, and as we rode away we saw the buffalo reappear and trot after the others.” The crowd buzzed with excitement, while Mash-the-Kettle, Flat Iron, and Yellow Breast nodded their heads vigorously in agreement. Up to that point Billy had found Short Bull’s wonderful tale believable, but a dead buffalo coming back to life was harder to swallow. That raised doubts in his mind about the rest of the story. Still....

  Wovoka had given them some cakes of his sacred paint to mix with their own for painting their faces before they danced, Short Bull added. “When you get home, he told us, you must fast for a day and a night, have a sweat bath, then paint your faces before you dance. You must dance for five days at a time, and on the last night you must continue dancing until the sun rises. Then all must bathe in a river before going home. Dance every six weeks, and make a feast at the dance. You must keep this up until the earth trembles.” Short Bull paused to catch his breath.

  “He also gave us these orders. ’do not refuse to work for the Wasicuns, and do not make trouble for them. Do not tell them about this.’ He also said that the dead are alive again, and when the time comes there will be no more sickness and everyone will be young. When the earth trembles, don’t be afraid. If you are a believer, you will not be hurt.”

  That ended the council, but few left. Little groups gathered to talk about Short Bull’s strange but wonderful tale, while Billy listened. “Why would a Messiah come to save the Indians?” a young progressive asked. “Who cares what happens to us?” No one answered. Billy walked to the group that surrounded Short Bull.

  “We must do what Wovoka ordered,” he was saying, his sharp face animated. “We must believe in the Messiah and follow his instructions exactly. It is our only hope.” Billy left, not knowing what to think. He wanted badly to believe, but everything he’d learned at Carlisle told him that was foolish. Wovoka had ordered them to say nothing to the whites about the Ghost Dance. What should he tell Culver?

  Fortunately, Culver didn’t ask him about it, although he knew Billy had gone to the secret council. “I just received a letter from the trader at Walker Lake on the Paiute Reservation in Nevada,” he said. “He told me that Indians from all over are coming to see a medicine man called Wovoka. He said that some Sioux were there recently, maybe some of our people. It seems that on January 1 a year ago Wovoka was down with a fever when there was a total eclipse of the sun. Apparently he had a vision, and during it came up with a new religion, a peaceful one.”

  Billy said nothing, but that explained what Short Bull meant when he said that on the day the sun died Wovoka had also died. Could that mean his vision was untrue? He wanted to ask Culver about it, but refrained.

  Kicking Bear and his followers at Cheyenne River got fullbloods who’d been to school to write letters for them to friends at all of the agencies. They invited the Tetons to send men for a big council at Cheyenne River, where they would be taught the Ghost Dance along with the songs and rituals to be observed. Billy was called on to translate the letters to Brulés, for they didn’t want any white men to see them.

  At Pine Ridge the mixed blood postmaster William Selwyn, who had earlier translated letters from the Shoshonis to Oglalas, now translated the messages from Kicking Bear and his friends. At first Selwyn thought the affair not worth mentioning, but now he became alarmed at the growing excitement. He informed the agent that something mysterious and possibly dangerous was going on among the Oglalas, and that Good Thunder, Cloud Horse, and Yellow Knife seemed to be responsible. Agent Gallagher had the Indian police bring the three to his office for questioning. But even though he kept them in the guard-house for two days, they refused to answer his questions. He ordered them to stop whatever they were doing that upset the Oglalas, then released them. They obeyed his orders.

  Census-taker Lea finished his work at Rosebud in May, and his figures showed 2000 fewer Brulés than there had been in 1880. Even though much of the decline had been caused by epidemics made more deadly by weakness from hunger, Lea’s count meant yet another cut in rations. By this time it was painfully clear that Congress had no intention of keeping the promises Crook and the other commissioners had made or of restoring the beef ration to comply with treaty guarantees.

  Chapter Nine

  Heavy spring rains gave the Brulés hope that the drouth had finally ended and a much larger number than ever planted corn. Earlier they had planted merely to please the agent and to acquire farm wagons. Now they were so desperate for food that men helped women with the planting and hoeing weeds, something few Tetons had ever done before.

  When Short Bull and Mash-the-Kettle began preaching the new religion at a camp on Iron Creek, about eight miles west of the agency, they attracted only a small number of Brulés. But as word spread of the dancers dying and seeing dead relatives before coming to life again, more and more came to join them. They fasted, painted their faces, sang the sacred songs, and danced. At first they danced only on Sundays. Many fell into trances and traveled to the Spirit Land, and afterward described their dead relatives and their clothing and ornaments so vividly that those who remembered the individuals recognized the descriptions as accurate.

  News of the arrest of Good Thunder and the others at Pine Ridge caused Kicking Bear to abandon his plans for a big gathering of Tetons at Cheyenne River. Instead, he left for a visit to the Northern Arapahos, and on his return stopped at Pine Ridge to see Good Thunder. The Arapahos are holding Ghost Dances, he said. Some of the dancers fall dead and visit dead friends, and when they come to life again they tell what they have seen. “The Arapahos,” Kicking Bear said, “are absolutely convinced of the truth of Wovoka’s teaching. Why are the Oglalas idle?”

  The Oglalas now ignored Gallagher’s orders and held secret councils away from the agency. Red Cloud, who earlier had been converted by a Catholic priest, stated that he believed in the Indian Messiah, and that the Oglalas should begin the Ghost Dance. Progressive chief Little Wound agreed.

  “My friends,” he said, “if this is a good thing we should have it; if it is not it will fall to the earth itself. You had better learn this dance, so if the Messiah does come he will not pass us by, but will help us get back our hunting grounds and buffalo.” Other chiefs concurred, and at camps away from the agency, Good Thunder and his companions began teaching the Ghost Dance songs and rituals. Many excited Oglalas enthusiastically joined in the dancing.

  Brulé agent George Wright came to see Culver one day in late June. He had a puzzled expression. “I just received a letter from the Indian Commissioner,” he said. “It seems that an Oglala or mixed blood who is attending college in Pierre heard from his parents that they expect an uprising among the Oglalas, or at least something big. He told Charles Hyde about it, and Hyde wrote the Secretary of the Interior. No one paid any attention to it until the Secretary of War reported that there is great excitement among the Crows over the preaching of an Indian Messiah west of the Rockies. The Commissioner ordered all agents to report on it. Do you know anything about it?”

  Culver’s mustache twitched. “I’ve picked up bits and pieces about it, but I don’t think there’s any reason to worry. What I learned from the Paiute trader is that it’s a peaceful religion the Messiah preaches, and if they follow it they’ll be the better for it. He orders them to tell the truth and do no harm to anyone.”

  “I see. Then what are they doing that causes excitement?”

  “Short Bull and Mash-the-the Kettle have a Ghost Dance camp on Iron Creek, and I hear they’ve attracted quite a following. The dances are to prepare for the Messiah’s coming, when the whites will disappear and the Indians and the buffalo will return. There’ll be an earthquake or flood, something like that.” Wright frowned.

  “They’re neglecting their farms,
no doubt.”

  “You’ve got to remember,” Culver continued, “that these people are desperate, and it’s quite understandable that they’ll grasp at any straw. If left alone to continue their dancing, when the Messiah fails to appear it will die out by itself. Unfortunately, that will leave them even more discouraged than they are now. If you could restore the beef ration and feed them well, the whole thing would disappear. The Ghost Dance is the child of hunger and despair.”

  “I wish I could restore it, believe me. I hate to see them hungry, especially when it’s not their fault and there’s no earthly reason for it. But the President asked Congress to act promptly on the commission’s recommendations way back in February. Although the Senate passed the bill in late April, there’s still no sign of action by the House. It hasn’t even passed the regular Sioux Appropriation bill, either. I can’t understand it.”

  They talked some more, while Billy listened but offered no suggestions. “To play it safe, I think I’d better send for Short Bull and Mash-the-Kettle and have a talk with them,” Wright said, “even though what they’re doing seems harmless.”

  “Be careful. The wrong kind of action could change that.”

  Billy’s thoughts turned to the growing numbers of Brulés said to be flocking to Short Bull’s Ghost Dance camp. There’s something about what they do that changes them. You can look at a bunch and by their faces pick out the ones who have danced. They’re still hungry, but they don’t look like they’re ready to die. They appear downright confident, like they know something good will happen. I wonder if I’d feel that way if I danced with them?

  He soon learned that Wright had sent the Indian police to the camp on Iron Creek to bring Short Bull and Mash-the-Kettle to his office. “The Great Father isn’t pleased to hear about your new dancing,” he told them. “It is causing people to neglect their farms and not send their children to school. I think you had better stop it.” Short Bull and his companion apparently agreed without protest, and Wright went back to his plans for the first Sioux agricultural fair. Billy heard that the two Ghost Dance leaders had abandoned the camp on Iron Creek and set up another farther from the agency. He felt relieved that they hadn’t stopped the dancing, for if what Wovoka told them was actually true, they must keep it up until the earth began to tremble.

  Many Brulés ignored the Ghost Dance to care for their crops. The corn was nearly waist high, the tallest it had been in years, when lack of rain and the searing winds of late July and early August dashed all hope for any harvest at all. For the third summer in a row, all crops withered and died. This time it struck the Brulés much harder than before because they desperately needed corn to survive. Gaunt-limbed men and sad-faced mothers mourning the most recent deaths of their children looked like they had lost the will to live. At that crucial moment the Indian commissioner ordered yet another cut in the beef ration, blaming it on the lack of funds and the failure of Congress to pass the annual Sioux Appropriation Bill.

  Rosebud had been quiet since Wright had ordered an end to the dances, but now even the mildest and most obedient progressives were outraged and vocal about the new cut. As he listened to their protests, Billy sensed that the Brulés were ready to explode. On the next ration day some refused to accept the reduced rations until Wright pleaded with them.

  Because the 500 restless Northern Cheyennes at Pine Ridge seemed determined to rejoin their own people on the Tongue River Reservation in Montana, to prevent it the army sent two troops of cavalry to set up camp west of the agency. At the Cheyenne River Reservation the nonprogressives, outraged over the land sale, had moved their camps eighty miles upriver from the agency. Since they were now within easy striking distance of the families of new settlers who had bought farms in the ceded land, other troops were stationed around them. The presence of troops always made the Sioux nervous, and this was one more irritation.

  As most Brulés wallowed in the depths of depression, Billy knew that hunger and most of their other troubles had been caused by the whites. The land sale still rankled both those who had agreed and those who had not, for none of the promises had been kept, and it was clear that the government had forgotten them. The whites may not have caused the drouth, for they also suffered from it, but they had forced the Sioux to rely on crops for food at a time when nothing would grow. Even the grass was withered, and blackleg had killed half their cattle. The Tetons still blamed the land sale for most of their troubles. For all of the commissioners’ fine promises and assurances, the whites had duped and cheated them again, taking their land and then cutting their rations until they were starving.

  At Rosebud no head chief had ever risen to replace the able Spotted Tail; Crow Dog and others had tried to claim the honor, but all lacked his prestige and ability. Two Strike, who had been Spotted Tail’s lieutenant in the old days, was the most prominent by far, but at seventy he was ailing and ineffective. At Pine Ridge there was acrimonious rivalry among non-progressives Red Cloud and Big road, on one side, and progressives Young-Mao-Afraid-of-His-Horses and Little Wound on the other. At Standing Rock, Sitting Bullied the diehard faction, while the progressives followed Grass. At Cheyenne River, both Hump and Big Foot still protested the land sale and kept their bands as far from the agency as possible. All of the old-time chiefs were now defying authority, making a last effort to recover the power and influence they had enjoyed before the government tried to eliminate their roles as leaders of their people.

  President Harrison had come into office in the spring of 1889 committed to civil service reform, but those who had supported him demanded their rewards. To get around this awkward situation, the administration adopted a policy for the Indian Service it called “home rule.” For the Tetons this meant simply that their reservations were turned over to the patronage of South Dakota Senator R. F. Pettigrew and Congressman J. A. Stickler. They began replacing agency personnel with Dakotans of their own party, working slowly up through the ranks toward the agents.

  At Pine Ridge the progressive chief Little Wound, whose daughter was dying of hunger and lack of medical care, was foremost among the Ghost Dance leaders until the fanatical Porcupine arrived later that summer after visiting Wovoka. Porcupine started a new Ghost Dance camp on Wounded Knee Creek, where Big Road and other hostiles who had fought under Crazy Horse were settled. The Ghost Dance continued to spread rapidly among the Oglalas, and soon another center was No Water’s camp at the mouth of Big White Clay Creek, north of the agency.

  It was at No Water’s camp, where Jack Red Cloud was one of the dance leaders, that Little Wound’s story of his visit to the Spirit Land was first told, but it was soon relayed to all the dance camps. As Little Wound described it, a great eagle carried him to a village of buffalo-hide tipis in the Spirit Land, where he saw the Messiah.

  “My son, I’m glad you have come,” the Messiah said. “Would you like to see your relatives who have died?” They soon appeared, richly dressed and riding the finest horses Little Wound had ever seen. Before he returned to earth, the Messiah told him that if the medicine men made shirts, put certain symbols on them, and prayed over them, no harm would come to those who wore them. The bullets of whites who wanted to stop the Ghost Dance would fall harmlessly to the ground. He had prepared a hole filled with fire for all white men and non-believers, he said. He told Little Wound to return home and tell his people that if they danced and paid no attention to whites he would soon come to their aid.

  As a result of Little Wound’s visit and talk with the Messiah, Ghost Shirts first appeared at No Water’s camp, but they spread like prairie fire to all the dance camps. Some of these garments were of buckskin, but most were of white cloth, with the sacred designs on them that were supposed to make bullets fall to the ground. Those who wore and believed in the Ghost Shirts now had no fear of the Indian police, and they became defiant. The crop failure and the new cut in rations forced even the nonprogressives to join the Ghost Dancers or to sit quietly at home and watch their children starve. Many ch
ose not to sit at home.

  By mid-August the Oglala dance camps were in a frenzy of excitement. Hearing rumors about them, Agent Gallagher became alarmed. On August 22 he sent a squad of Indian police to Tom Belly’s camp to break up the dance there. The police returned the next day—the agent’s order had been ignored and they had been threatened. They would continue to dance, Tom Belly said, no matter what the agent ordered.

  Unable to comprehend the intensity of the Ghost Dancers’ emotions, Gallagher angrily decided to take twenty Indian police and break up the dance. Philip Wells, his intetpreter, warned him that if he entered the camp with police all would likely be killed. He begged Gallagher to go to the camp with only himself, Red Cloud, and Young-Man-Afraid-of-His-Horses, all unarmed, and try to reach a friendly agreement with the leaders. Gallagher, an Irishman and Civil War veteran, declined. “The camp is full of Ghost Dancers,” Wells warned him, “hundreds of them, all armed and itching for a fight.” Gallagher shrugged.

  “Call up the police,” he said.

  Special Agent E. B. Reynolds and Young-Mao-Afraid-of-His-Horses accompanied them. Before they reached Torn Belly’s camp they met an Oglala who warned them there were at least 600 Oglalas there, all in a fighting mood. When they reached the cabin settlement they saw 150 tipis but only a few frightened women and children, and that smelled like trouble to all but Gallagher. He led the way into the deserted dance circle, where an American flag hung limply from the prayer tree in the center, as if in shame for being there.