This was the Stronghold the stars had referred to when they came down to talk to Short Bull. Billy held his hand before his face to keep wind-blown snowflakes from stinging his eyes. The Stronghold appeared to be about three miles long and two miles wide; the grass was tall and thick, and two springs provided water enough for people and animals. No soldiers could attack them here, and with all the cattle they’d gathered it would take months to starve them out. By then the Messiah would surely have come, and their troubles would be over. Ghost Dancers and nonbelievers set up their tipis on the open mesa in the blowing snow.
With Short Bull and the tall Kicking Bear were the Brulés who had fought the bluecoats in 1876, most of the Washazhas, Two Strike’s band, the people with Eagle Pipe and Crow Dog, and many Oglalas. The majority weren’t Ghost Dancers; they had simply panicked at the sight of troops. They badly wanted to return to the agencies, but the fanatics still threatened to kill any who tried to leave.
At Pine Ridge a number of reporters had gathered from far and near to write about the Great Sioux Uprising that General Miles had hinted at. They found the soldiers idle and the Indians calm; there was nothing to report, certainly nothing sensational. As a result they reported every rumor as fact, and reporters from distant cities even manufactured news. The Indians were massing for battle, the situation was explosive, they wrote, and they criticized General Brooke for his inactivity. The firing of one gun, they said, would set off a fight to the finish. The reporters themselves, as if believing their own fabrications, were walking arsenals. Those representing papers in Nebraska and the Dakotas generally told it like it was: evetything was quiet and no trouble was anticipated. If fighting began, it would be forced on the Sioux.
Charles Moody of the Sturgis Weekly Record pointed out one reason for promoting the threat of an Indian war in South Dakota. “The Mandan Pioneer and the local correspondent of that place are entitled to an immense amount of credit for their success in having Ft. Lincoln reoccupied,” he wrote. “The Indian scare was a shrewd scheme.” A good trade with the fort had been assured for the winter.
Carl Smith of the Omaha World Herald blamed Royer’s lack of experience for the Indian scare, and accused him of trying to substantiate the fright that caused him to call for troops. “To hold his job, Mr. Royer may succeed in aggravating these Indians into some sort of warlike demonstration, but it will be fighting against their will,” he wrote on December 1. Royer refrained from expelling Smith only because the publisher of his paper threatened to seek redress from the Secretary of the Interior if he did. But General Brooke, who had no use for reporters, ordered Smith to leave on the grounds that he obtained his news by listening to the army telegraph operator at Pine Ridge.
On December 1 the Secretary of the Interior ordered all Sioux agents to bring rations up to the amounts guaranteed in treaties. Two days later Congress, which still hadn’t acted on the Sioux appropriation bill, debated a measure to provide 100,000 rifles to the citizens of South Dakota, who were believed to be in imminent danger of being massacred. Senator Voorhees suggested, since it was obvious the trouble was caused by hunger among the Sioux, that it might be more sensible to send 100,000 rations to the Indians instead of 100,000 rifles to excited white men near the reservations. Another Senator remarked that the Crook Commission had made many promises to the Sioux, including restoring the beef issue, and that Crook had died of grief over the failure of Congress to honor his commitments. Outraged, Senator Dawes denied that Congress had acted in bad faith. He saw no relief in the present situation, he said, unless bad chiefs like Red Cloud and Sitting Bull were removed, as if they were responsible for the crisis.
Senator Voorhees asked Dawes if General Miles was correct in blaming the Sioux troubles on hunger. Dawes, the spokesman for the Friends of the Indian in Congress, angrily retorted that this was the first time he’d heard of hunger among the Sioux. They’d been away dancing for weeks, and now this talk of hunger. If they stayed on their farms they’d have sufficient food, he was sure. Voorhees asked if he didn’t know the Sioux had been starving for two years. Dawes huffily replied that the Sioux were hungry only because they abandoned their farms and left the agencies to dance.
While this was going on, Brooke sent Frank Merrivale, a trader of French descent who was fluent in Lakota, with some Oglala friendlies to try to persuade the Ghost Dancers to abandon the Stronghold and return to Pine Ridge. Merrivale’s party returned the next day, for the Ghost Dancers’ pickets had turned them back. When he learned of this, Royer rushed to General Brooke.
“It’s come!” he exclaimed. “War has come! They wouldn’t listen to Merrivale. They shot over his head, killed a lot of cattle, and lit out for the Badlands.” Brooke, who had no respect for Indian agents, even able ones, ignored Royer.
George Wright returned to Rosebud as agent on December 1, having been cleared of the charges against him. Special Agent Reynolds stayed on to help. The Brulé headmen welcomed Wright and promised to obey his orders. They blamed their troubles on the Ghost Dance, and begged him not to allow the troops to attack them.
The day after Merrivale returned, December 3, seventy-year-old Father John Jutz of the Holy Rosary Mission four miles north of the agency, offered to try to talk to the Ghost Dancers. Popular with the Oglalas, he had been assured that if there was any fighting his mission would be spared. Jack Red Cloud, now active among the friendlies, accompanied him. The next afternoon scouts met them ten miles from the Stronghold and sent word to Short Bull that Father Jutz wanted to hold council. By the time the rider returned with Short Bull’s approval and Jutz and Jack Red Cloud had covered the ten miles to the Stronghold, it was an hour before midnight.
“Your Ghost Shirts won’t protect you,” Jutz told them. “A couple of weeks ago Porcupine had someone shoot him to prove his shirt would stop bullets. He is seriously wounded.”
Billy remembered Porcupine, one of the most fanatic of Oglala Ghost Dancers. He looked down at his own Ghost Shirt Short Bull had given him, and at the painted symbols that were supposed to cause bullets to fall to the ground. Wovoka had said nothing about Ghost Shirts. He shivered at the thought of bullets tearing through the thin cloth into his body and wondered if the Ghost Dance was, as Culver insisted, an illusion. That was a troubling thought, and he forced it from his mind.
For the rest of the night Jutz sat in council with Short Bull, Kicking Bear, Two Strike, Turning Bear, Crow Dog, Eagle Pipe, and other headmen, while Billy and many other Ghost Dancers listened. The chiefs complained bitterly of the census that had caused rations to be cut again, and about the land agreement and the unkept promises. When Jutz urged them to return to the agency, they wouldn’t hear of it. The Wasicuns would arrest them, Short Bull said. They’d rather die fighting than rot in prison. Before morning, however, Two Strike and several others agreed to accompany Jutz to the agency for a council with Brooke. They set out at daybreak in a light snow, although none had slept that night.
Leading the procession was a warrior carrying a white flag, followed by twenty armed warriors who were painted as for war. Their ponies were also painted, and their tails were tied up with ribbons and festooned with eagle feathers. Behind them rode Jack Red Cloud along with Turning Bear, High Pine, and three other headmen in their finest war costumes under their Ghost Shirts. Bringing up the rear were Father Jutz and Two Strike in an old buggy guarded by four Brulé warriors. They stopped for the night at Jutz’s mission.
In the morning, fearing arrest, the Ghost Dancers hesitated to continue. Four times they started, but turned back each time as if their ponies refused to carry them to an uncertain fate. Finally Father Jutz called them around him. “I assure you that you’re safe with me,” he said, “but if any soldiers threaten you, you may kill me.” Shamed, they agreed to continue, but without their paint and feathers.
When the procession neared the agency, the Oglalas in the friendly camp were wild with excitement. Looking straight ahead and showing no sign of fear, the Ghost Dance party
rode past the troops to Brooke’s headquarters and tied their ponies. There Father Jutz led them into the big tent for the council.
General Brooke was friendly and conciliatory toward the visitors. If they came in, he told them, they would receive increased rations and he would hire some of them as scouts. Turning Bear, a leading Ghost Dancer, spoke for the Indians. There’s no need for scouts, he said, because there is no war, but they’d be glad to be paid for scouting. He told Brooke that they would like to come in and camp near the agency, but there were already too many people there and not enough grass for their pony herds. They had many old people in the camps who couldn’t ride, and they had no wagons for them. It was true about the grass, but Turning Bear was politely stalling. As to coming to the agency, he concluded, they’d have to talk about that before deciding.
The talks lasted two hours, then the Indians were fed. When they left Brooke gave them boxes of hardtack and other army rations. He was convinced they would soon decide in favor of coming in. Accompanying them on their return to the Stronghold were No Neck and thirty-two young Oglala friendlies as well as Louis Shangreau, a courageous mixed blood.
In the meantime, Short Bull and Kicking Bear had kept those in the camp excited, warning them to have no dealings with the whites, who would try to prevent the new world from coming. Two Strike’s party and No Neck’s friendlies arrived as a frenzied Ghost Dance was going on; it continued uninte: ·1pted for thirty hours before it was stopped for the council. Short Bull, Two Strike, and Crow Dog spoke for the dancers.
“The agent will forgive you if you come in now,” Shangreau told them, “and he will also increase your rations. The only restriction is that you may not dance.”
“If the Great Father would allow us to continue the dance, give us more rations, and quit taking away pieces of our reservation,” Short Bull replied, “I would favor returning. But if we return he will take our guns and ponies and put some of us in jail for taking cattle and looting cabins. Tell him we’re not coming.” He then ordered the dance resumed, and the council ended. Although it continued for two days, No Neck, Shangreau, and their party refused to leave. Another council was held on December 10, when Two Strike abruptly announced that he was taking his people to the agency. Crow Dog said he would do the same. Short Bull sprang to his feet.
“At such times as this we should stick together like brothers!” he exclaimed. “These agency men are lying. Louis Shangreau is at the bottom of this! He’s a traitor. Kill him! Kill him!”
At that Billy joined other shrieking Ghost Dancers who rushed at Shangreau with clubbed rifles and knives, ready to do Short Bull’s bidding. But the young Oglala friendlies surrounded Shangreau, No Neck, Two Strike, and Crow Dog, and fended off the frenzied dancers with their rifles. In the midst of the tumult, Crow Dog sat down and covered his head with his blanket. Seeing him, the Ghost Dancers backed off and fell silent.
Crow Dog threw off his blanket and arose. “Brothers! Stop this! I can’t bear to see Tetons shedding the blood of their brothers,” he shouted. “I’m going back to the agency. You can kill me if you want to and prevent me from going. I’m not afraid to die. The agent’s words are true—it’s better to return than to stay here.”
Billy felt ashamed that he had impulsively joined in the attack. Crow Dog was right. No Teton should shed the blood of another. Even though Crow Dog himself had killed Spotted Tail, no one reminded him of that.
The camp was immediately astir as women frantically tore down the tipis and loaded the wagons, while the Ghost Dancers ran around shouting “Don’t go! Don’t go!” In a short time Shangreau, No Neck, and the Oglala friendlies started for the land bridge. Two Strike, Crow Dog, and their people followed. Billy looked for Mollie, and found her in one of the wagons.
“Come with us,” she said before he could speak.
“Will you stay with me if I do?”
“I can’t. I was married in church. I wish I could.”
“I may as well stay then. There’s no reason for me to return.” He turned and left her, feeling empty inside.
As the long procession strung out across the mesa toward the land bridge, the Ghost Dancers ran about in confusion. Soon Billy saw some of them strike their tipis and follow, stampeded by the sight of others leaving. When they were gone, only about two hundred die-hards remained in the Stronghold. What was most shocking to Billy was that the tall, rawboned Kicking Bear had deserted Short Bull and gone with the others.
Chapter Thirteen
Once the southern agencies were quiet, and efforts were being made to coax the Ghost Dancers to come in, General Miles turned his attention to Cheyenne River and Standing Rock, where Hump, Big Foot, and Sitting Bull were still considered dangerous. “I concluded that if the so-called Messiah was to appear in that country,” Miles remarked, “Sitting Bull had to be out of it. I consider it of first importance to secure his arrest and removal from the country. “But an attempt to arrest Sitting Bull could spark the war Miles hoped to avoid. How could it be managed without bloodshed?
In pondering this delicate question, Miles remembered that after he returned from Canada, Sitting Bull had traveled with Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West Show for a year, and it was said the two had become friends. On November 24 he sent for Cody and questioned him. He and Sitting Bull were indeed old friends, Cody said, and he was sure he could persuade him to come in peacefully. Miles gave him confidential orders, stating, “Col. Cody, you are hereby authorized to secure the person of Sitting Bull and deliver him to the nearest commanding officer of U.S. Troops, taking a receipt and reporting your action.” On the back of one of his visiting cards, he wrote, “Commanding officers will please give Col. Cody transportation for himself and party and any protection he may need for a small party,” and gave it to Cody. For showman Buffalo Bill, here was a splendid, unexpected opportunity for adventure and especially for publicity. Although his orders were confidential, he was so elated he had to talk to reporters about the Sioux troubles and prepare the way to capitalize later on his anticipated glorious achievement. “Of all the bad Indians,” he said of his presumed friend, “Sitting Bull is the worst. If there is no disturbance he will foment one. He is a dangerous Indian.”
Boarding the train at Chicago, Cody picked up old friends on the way west—Frank Powell, his Nebraska ranch manager John Keith, and Pony Bob Haslin. At Bismarck, South Dakota, he hired two wagons and men to drive them. He filled one with presents for Sitting Bull, including a generous supply of the Hunkpapa chiefs favorite candy. When they boarded the train for the short trip across the Missouri to Mandan, several reporters joined the party, prepared to tell the nation about Buffalo Bill’s greatest coup in bringing in the fearsome Sitting Bull.
On November 28 Colonel Drum was surprised to see the famous showman, still dressed in his Wild West Show suit and patent leather shoes, with long hair, mustache, and goatee. Drum’s surprise turned to shock when Cody announced the purpose of his visit, and that he was expected to cooperate with him in the madcap adventure. Like most army officers, he heartily disliked meddling civilians, especially publicity seekers. He immediately conferred with white-haired McLaughlin, who was equally disturbed at the new turn of events. Both agreed that Cody was much more likely to get himself and his friends killed or of starting a war than he was of arresting Sitting Bull. Drum promised to stall Cody as long as he could while McLaughlin wired the Secretary of the Interior requesting that Miles’ order to Cody be cancelled.
Knowing of Cody’s reputation as an unrivaled tippler, that evening Drum invited him to join the officers for a libation. Before long the officers realized that this was a difficult assignment, for they were no match for the long-haired former scout, and they spared themselves the embarrassment of being drunk under the table by several taking turns drinking with him while the others downed cups of black coffee. In the morning, apparently refreshed by army hospitality, Cody informed the bleary officers of the last shift, “I’m off on the most dangerous assignment o
f my whole career.”
Fearing that Cody might set out before a message could arrive revoking his orders, McLaughlin had set in motion an alternate plan for delaying the meeting with Sitting Bull. Early in the morning he sent interpreter Louis Primeau and several others down one of the two roads leading to the Grand River settlement, and another party down the second road, to go twenty miles or more and then return, making a fresh set of tracks toward the agency. Cody met Primeau halfway to the Grand River; the interpreter told him that he had just left Sitting Bull’ s village and the chief was on his way to the agency by the other road, then showed him the fresh tracks. There was nothing for Cody to do but turn back. When he reached the agency McLaughlin greeted him with a wire from the President rescinding his orders from Miles. Grumbling, Cody left the next day for Chicago.
Early in December a rider reached Sitting Bull with Short Bull’s message that the Messiah was soon coming to the Stronghold, and that a prominent chief like Sitting Bull should be there to welcome him. His semi-literate nephew Andrew Fox translated the letter Billy had written for Short Bull. Even though he was a Ghost Dance leader, Sitting Bull wasn’t altogether convinced by Wovoka’s promises. Besides, going to the Stronghold meant a 200-mile ride in cold weather. He pondered the matter for several days, and on December 11 held a council in his cabin. His old friends agreed that it would be unfortunate indeed if the Messiah came to earth at the Stronghold and the great Sitting Bull wasn’t there to greet him. Sitting Bull, who wasn’t burdened by modesty or self-doubts, found their logic convincing.
Andrew Fox laboriously wrote a letter from his uncle to the agent. First he told McLaughlin that “I wish no one to come with guns or knives to interfere with my prayers. All we are doing is praying for life and to learn how to do good. When you visited my camp you gave me good words about our prayers but then you took your good words back again. And so I will let you know something. I got to go to Pine Ridge and know this pray so I let you know that. I want answer back soon.”
Man on Two Ponies Page 17
