Thunder Rolling in the Mountains

by Scott O'dell

  We crossed the mountains and turned again toward the rising sun. When we rested, we talked. People talked against the whites and agreed that they were all enemies. Settlers from the Bitterroot Valley had fought beside the soldiers at Big Hole. The same people who had smiled at us and sold us sugar had killed our women and children as they slept. Anger ran deep through the camp.

  When our scouts stole horses from the ranches we passed, no Ne-mee-poo said a word against them. The horses we took could not be used by the soldiers who came after us. On one raid for horses, the warriors killed three men on a ranch. But our warriors obeyed Chief Joseph. They did not scalp the dead men. Instead they covered the bodies with blankets. They took no money, only cloth to bandage our wounded.

  One morning scouts warned that soldiers were nearby. The one-armed general and his men were at the place we had camped last night, between two clear streams filled with trout. There was shade from cotton woods and willows and deep grass for horses. The soldiers stopped there to rest.

  The chiefs called the warriors together. "If the general has no horses, the Blue Coats cannot ride," said Lean Elk.

  "If he has no mules, the general will have no wagons. Without wagons, he cannot follow us. Tonight we steal his herds."

  That day we rested in the Camas Meadows. The camas blossoms had faded. The roots were still small, but we gathered enough to feed us for many suns. Some we ate raw; the rest we dried. We would mix them with huckleberries and shape them into cakes. The cakes were easy to carry on our horses.

  While we worked, the chiefs planned the raid. After the sun had dropped behind the mountains, the warriors went out in three bands, with Ollokot, Looking Glass, and Too-hul-hul-sote as leaders. Swan Necklace and Two Moons rode with Ollokot.

  When the raiding party left, I slipped out and climbed on my pony. I did not tell my father. I knew he would forbid me to go.

  Beneath a half-moon the warriors rode, swift and silent in the night. I rode behind them, careful to stay back so they would not hear me. As we neared the soldiers' camp, the horses slowed.

  I watched as the warriors rode among the tethered animals and cut their hobbles. They had worked for only a few minutes when a soldier called, "Who are you there?"

  A shot rang out. One of our warriors had fired his gun. It alarmed the soldiers. They began shouting. A bugle sounded.

  The warriors yelled and waved buffalo robes to make the herds run. Then they pulled back, firing over their shoulders as they rode away. Before they left, one of the warriors grabbed a blazing stick from a fire and set the wagons ablaze. General Howard was left with piles of ashes.

  Suddenly there were wild screams and a herd rushed past, plunging through the mist. Ollokot caught the animals with his fast riders and turned them back toward our camp.

  Stampeding animals were all around me. The Great Spirit Chief must have been watching, because the animals parted and made a river on each side of me. I could feel their hot breath, but as they pounded past, they did not even brush my legs.

  Swan Necklace rode by with several horses. He did not see me. After he had passed, he fired his rifle and snapped a whip over their backs. The horses screamed and ran in among the herd.

  A powerful hand grabbed my arm, the fingers pressing so hard against the bone that I winced. A cold knife blade touched my throat. A gruff voice said, "Who is here?" It was Too-hul-hul-sote.

  "It's Sound of Running Feet," I whispered. My mouth was dry with fear.

  "Ahhh," he said in disgust. "You are going to get yourself killed." He dropped my arm and put the knife back in his belt. Too-hul-hul-sote snatched my pony's reins, then rode off after the stampeding herd, dragging me behind him.

  Before we had ridden far the darkness faded. In the first gray light, we saw that we had captured only three horses; but we had taken all of the general's mules.

  We had no time to talk about the raid. The soldiers were close behind us. Half of the warriors slid off their horses and made ready to fight. The rest of us rode on with the mules.

  Too-hul-hul-sote dropped the reins of my pony and slapped it on the rear. "Get back to camp," he shouted, and turned to join the warriors who crouched behind rocks.

  Not long after we had reached Camas Meadows, the rest of the warriors came riding in. They were in high spirits. Only one had been struck and his wound was light. The bullet had skimmed his arm. It left a bloody path but did not stop him from joining in the feast. His hurt was so small that the warriors gave him a new name: Little Wound.

  It was the happiest time for us. Our warriors sang and old people crooned songs they had forgotten. We had taken a small revenge against the one-armed general. It gave him shame.

  A new spirit ran through the camp, some of the same spirit we had before the white general came. We had beaten his soldiers in the battles for the Clearwater and White Bird Canyon.

  "We beat them again," Ferocious Bear said.

  He sat on his spotted pony and shouted to everyone in the camp, to the lame and to the women who could only weave baskets and gather camas root.

  At last he went to our last Red Coat and put a heavy hand on him. He said nothing, just gave Swan Necklace's arm a powerful squeeze.

  Thirteen

  WE RESTED for a whole sun after the battle. We knew the soldiers could not follow until they got more mules. Lean Elk was less happy than the rest of the camp. He thought we should have taken the horses, too. He called me to his tipi.

  I combed my hair and braided it with strips of soft otter skin. I scrubbed my face with a wet cloth. I wiped the dirt off my elk-hide dress. Then I walked slowly across the camp, my skirt brushing the long grass. I was sure I was in trouble.

  For a long time Lean Elk was silent. He looked at me with his burning eyes until I felt no bigger than a chipmunk. "I hear you played at warrior last night," he said. He was not pleased.

  My words clattered like pebbles. "I ... I ... I ... I ... w ... wanted to see the raid," I said.

  "And your childish wish cost us a herd of horses," he said.

  Anger chased away my fear. "I am not the one who fired the rifle," I said. "I went without a weapon. I am not a warrior, but I am not such a child as to warn the soldiers."

  Lean Elk tried to look stern, but the corners of his mouth would not stay still. He drew a hand across his lips to hide his smile. "So you think you know more about war than our brave warriors," he said.

  "No," I said. "But I did not fight. I only watched."

  "Next time obey your father," he said. "Ne-mee-poo women do not fight."

  "The Blue Coats killed my mother. I would fight them if they came again," I said. "I would be as brave as the wife of Wah-lit-its. She fought beside her husband."

  "She had battle thrust upon her," said Lean Elk. "You sought it out. You got in the way. Too-hul-hul-sote nearly killed you. He was very angry. Let us have no more of this playing at warrior. It does not become the future wife of a Red Coat."

  I did not know what to say. I had been in the way and Too-hul-hul-sote had nearly cut my throat. I nodded and spoke no more.

  We left the meadow the next morning in a steady rain. The trail grew steep. After two suns we marched into the Land of the Spirit Fountains, where a broad path ran along the riverbank. Elk and black-tailed deer grazed in the distance. It was still summer on the meadow, but leaves were turning scarlet in the high country. The streams ran from bank to bank with green water that would soon turn to ice. The rivers already were crusted with ice. Chokecherries that puckered the tongue rattled dry and bitter on their stems, yet you could hold your breath, shut your eyes, make a face, and suck them down.

  This was a wondrous place. I had heard about its pools of churning mud and its fountains that sprayed into the heavens. Soon we came to a small fountain close to the trail where water bubbled out and ran down to the rims. I stood beside the bubbling water and felt something move beneath my feet, cold with the earth's deepest cold. It grew warm and spread out. It rose around my body with t
he warmth of human breath. There was a great rumbling and from the center of the pool white clouds of water spouted high above my head into a sky turned suddenly blue.

  We had stopped for food when there was a great commotion. The scouts came riding in, but they were not alone. White settlers rode with them.

  Two of the settlers were women. The one on a gray horse had seen as many snows as my mother. She had eyes the color of an early morning sky, a narrow nose, and a sharp chin. Her hair was the shade of dried grass, which she had twisted on top of her head. She was so strange looking that I felt sorry for her. She wore many long skirts and sat with both legs on the same side of the horse. It seemed a foolish way to ride.

  The one on the spotted horse was younger, no older than I. She too sat sideways. Her eyes were green like spring grass. Her hair, the red-gold of a setting sun, had come loose and hung around her shoulders. Her face was dirty. There were twigs and burrs in her hair and mud on her skirt. I guessed that she had tried to run away.

  The women seemed frightened but they stared straight ahead and said nothing.

  Chief Joseph walked over and put his hand on the bridle of the gray horse. "Do not be afraid," he said, using white words. "The soldiers killed many of our women and children at Big Hole. But we do not kill women."

  The chiefs met in council and decided to let the settlers go, even the men. Lean Elk told them to get off their horses.

  When the settlers stood on the ground, a warrior led their fresh horses away. He brought back some of our worn-out ponies. With broken-down horses, it would take them several suns to get to the white soldiers. By then we would be far across the mountains.

  "You are free to go," said Lean Elk. "But do not spy on us."

  The settlers left quickly. They were glad to get away.

  A moon showed in the east beyond the towering peaks of the Absarokas when we saw the settlers again. Fires burned around the edge of our camp. Swan Necklace and Ferocious Bear rode between the fires, pushing one white man and the two women before them.

  My father strode over and began to talk with the warriors. His voice rose in anger. Swan Necklace and Ferocious Bear turned their horses away, and my father brought the settlers to our fire.

  The settlers had broken their word. Once they were out of sight, the men slid to the ground and came back along the river, spying on our camp. Our scouts found them skulking in the brush along the river. There was a fight, and three of the men ran away. Our scouts captured the woman with yellow hair, her young sister, and her brother. But two of the men were shot. That made my father angry because the settlers had given us their guns.

  He shook his head. "Swan Necklace has become as foolish as Wah-lit-its," he said. "He will make trouble for us, killing unarmed men."

  I motioned to the settlers to sit down. Yellow Hair and Dirty Face were the first white women I had seen so close. I stared at them. They were not pretty but they did not look evil.

  The white man smiled at me. I said to myself that he was a wicked man and would kill me if he could.

  I looked away and did not smile.

  While I prepared our evening meal, Bending Willow began to cry. I did not leave the fire, but her cries stopped. I heard soft murmurs and turned to see Yellow Hair rocking the cradleboard. Soon Bending Willow was fast asleep.

  The settlers ate baked camas roots and antelope I cooked on sticks. They did not complain. After our meal the white man said some words in our tongue to Chief Joseph, but my father would not answer. He stared into the glowing coals. His heart was troubled. I knew he was worried about what to do with our prisoners.

  After our meal I sat beside the young, green-eyed prisoner. She shrank back against the buffalo robe held up by stakes that protected us from the cold.

  I smiled and touching my chest said, "Sound of Running Feet." Then I waited.

  She did not say her name. So I touched her cheek and pointed to her chest. "Dirty Face," I said.

  She looked wildly from side to side. It was no use; she did not understand.

  That night the settlers slept in front of the fire, next to our shelter. I gave them buffalo robes against the cold. Dirty Face pulled her robe around her and began to cry. Yellow Hair spoke softly to her. She put her arm about the girl's shoulders and comforted her, as a mother would comfort a hurt child. It puzzled me to see that white women acted no different from women of the Ne-mee-poo.

  Fourteen

  THE NEXT DAY Yellow Hair and her sister rode beside me on two of our ponies. They used our saddles and rode like Ne-mee-poo, with their legs hanging down on each side of the horse. Their full skirts were hiked up over their knees and showed their high boots with many buttons.

  A cold wind blew down upon us. Dirty Face's hair whipped around her face, and she kept brushing it out of her eyes. At night she moaned and cried out in her sleep. By day she shrank back in fear each time a warrior passed near her.

  There was nothing for her to fear. We did not harm women. I wanted to tell her so, but I had no words to say to Dirty Face and she had no words to say to me. She did not understand my hand signs. A thought came into my head.

  I pulled a hat out of my pony's pack. It was a basket hat. Many of our women wore them. I put the hat on. Then I took it off and handed it to her, making signs.

  Dirty Face pulled the hat over her flying hair. She smiled a shy smile. She said no words, but for the rest of that day she looked less like a trapped deer.

  I felt good inside.

  When the shadows grew long, we stopped for the night. Before the ponies were tethered, my father chose two that had carried heavy loads that day. He called to the settlers.

  "You go now," he said. "Travel down the river. Go back to your homes."

  I gave them bundles of camas-root cakes and dried fish to eat on the way.

  Yellow Hair and Dirty Face climbed on the horses. Warriors swam the animals across the river. The white man crossed, riding behind Two Moons. The settlers started off along the riverbank, the man walking beside the horses. With tired ponies and a walking man, they would move slowly. That gave us more time.

  For many suns we traveled toward the rising sun. Our path led us past fountains of bubbling mud and beside small lakes. Whenever we could, we followed a stream. Scouts brought word that soldiers waited for us on all the trails. No matter which one we took, the Blue Coats waited for us.

  Peaks of the snowy Absaroka Mountains rose up through the falling snow. "There are many tall peaks in the Absarokas," said Lean Elk, "more than the fingers you have on both hands. They all have passages between them, even those that look closed."

  He took us through a strange canyon. The towering rocks nearly met over our heads. They shut out the sun and made the world full of dark shadows. No birds sang here and the only sounds came from our ponies' hoofs as they struck the earth and from the roar of the rushing stream below. The path threaded through mountains and between rocks. It twisted and turned. It was so narrow that there was scarcely room for a single horse. In places we could not pass until our scouts had chopped off pine boughs that hung across the path.

  Once more we slipped through the general's fingers. We crossed the river on the other side of the Absarokas and entered the land of the Crows.

  Looking Glass rode ahead to let the Crows know that our people were on their way. The Crows had always been peaceful with us against the Sioux, the Bannocks, and the cunning Assiniboins.

  At last we arrived at a Crow camp. The braves ate with us. They smoked long-stemmed iron wood pipes with the face of their chieftain carved on the bowls and treated us as friends. They gave us bullets. But in the end, fearing the revenge that the White Soldiers might put on them, they refused to help us.

  My father called the council—all the chieftains who could give him advice. Lean Elk with his burning gaze, Ollokot, Looking Glass, White Bird, Too-hul-hul-sote, Lone Bird, Yellow Bull, Antelope Red Stone, and Ferocious Bear gathered to talk. Chief Joseph looked at each man as never before.


  "Now all the tribes are enemies. Every white man in these mountains is already our enemy," he said. "We were warned on that night, thirteen snows ago, when Preacher Chivington raided Black Kettle's village far south at Sand Creek. With white soldiers he came down on the camp before the sky turned light. He smashed heads, cut throats, slashed off ears. Blood ran across the earth and into the stream. That night the tribes learned to hate the settlers. And now..."

  "We hate ourselves," said Lean Elk through his teeth.

  "Ourselves," shouted young Gray Panther.

  Yellow Bull, the father of Red Moccasin Tops, drew a finger across his throat.

  Ollokot said nothing.

  My father went on. "The one-armed general is far behind us. But the click-clack has told soldiers at every fort to look for us. They come from all sides. We are in danger."

  Then Ferocious Bear struggled to his feet and stood silent. From the day we had left Wallowa and crossed the flooding Snake, from the battle of White Bird Canyon, from those days to this moment, no one knew what he thought.

  But my father said to the old man in a gentle voice, "Speak."

  "Looking Glass has cost us much," said Ferocious Bear. "White Bird said, 'Go north to the Old Lady's country. Go join Sitting Bull.' But we heeded Looking Glass and came south. We have lost many warriors. We have lost many women, many children."

  Too-hul-hul-sote nodded his great head. "Ferocious Bear's words are strong," he said. "Looking Glass said the Crows would fight beside us. But the Crows will not help us. They are no longer our brothers. We must travel north to join Sitting Bull."

  Looking Glass was angry. His black eyes flashed like his glass when struck by the sun's rays. "So be it," he said.

  "So be it," said my father.

  Fifteen

  FEROCIOUS BEAR and Too-hul-hul-sote were right. In three suns the Blue Coats caught up with us. We were traveling across a broad plain. Our scouts saw the dust from their horses and waved a red blanket to warn us. Lean Elk ordered the warriors to pull their ponies around and get ready to fight. While the warriors waited for the white soldiers, we escaped up a dry streambed into a wide canyon.