by Win Blevins
“Tell him it’s late in the day and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
“It’s unjust, Sir.”
Bradley shrugged. He had his orders. It wasn’t his fault. This was the army.
“It’s almost night,” said Lee to His Crazy Horse. “You can talk to Bradley tomorrow. Go with this officer and you won’t be harmed.”
His Crazy Horse barely managed to hear the words over the beat of the drum. After a brief hesitation he offered Lee his hand, and the lieutenant shook it. His Crazy Horse glanced at Touch-the-Sky before walking off with the escort.
Lee watched the small party move toward a low building. The adjutant’s office was there. Next to that was the guardhouse, with cells, bars, and chains. Lee was pretty sure His Crazy Horse didn’t know that. The chief was walking between the officer of the day and Little Big Man, troopers behind, Indian police in front. The lieutenant was transfixed. He had the uncanny feeling that the Strange Man was marching to music, funeral music.
Hawk was alert, grasping and letting go with her claws, turning on her perch. His Crazy Horse walked next to Little Big Man and the soldier chief, also alert. He was a warrior again now, aware, ready, calm. He thought sweetly of Hump, the man who had taught him. He thought of his hidden knife. None of it mattered. He would lift and lower his feet to the beat. He would feel its music through Earth herself. He would march wherever the pulse of Earth led him.
They came up to a door in a little building. Surrounded by policemen and soldiers, His Crazy Horse couldn’t see it well. The Indian police opened the door and went in.
In the doorway His Crazy Horse saw what it was: the jail. The cells with barred windows, locking doors, cramped and dark. The chains.
At the sight of this death, Hawk lunged.
His Crazy Horse felt his feet upon the earth and heard the beat in his heart. Since his decision had been made long ago, he moved swiftly and easily.
One hand flashed out the new knife.
His body whirled.
Hawk screamed, KEE-ur, KEE-ur! Hawk lifted into the air.
After one step he felt them, Little Big Man’s hands grabbing his arms.
His Crazy Horse spun, slashing with the knife. His feet touched the earth rhythmically.
He felt Little Big Man’s hands clamp hard.
For Pvt. William Gentles, training took over. He was a soldier. He saw a prisoner wielding a knife. He had been drilled repeatedly in the thrust of the bayonet: Step back out of range. Plant feet, cock shoulders back, step forward, rotate shoulders into the thrust vigorously, shoulders and back and legs propelling the blade.
Some Indian had the prisoner by the arms just enough. The first thrust hit the door facing. Then Gentles had a decent target, the back. He felt the bayonet push against flesh and muscle and finally the resistance of insides. He snapped the blade back out, bloody. He would have guessed it went nearly through from back to front.
His Crazy Horse looked into Little Big Man’s eyes. He felt his comrade’s arms holding him up. His feet had stopped moving. He said, “Stop, my friend, you have hurt me enough.”
He felt Little Big Man’s hands let him go. He fell and hit the earth. His blood ran into the dust. The beat of the drum was muffled.
HAWK
A jumble: Pain like a huge wave boiling. A room. The wasicu doctor, a needle going into his arm, a strange unreality, pleasant and ugly, like a sour vision. The murmurings of his father, Worm, his mothers, his uncle Touch-the-Sky.
Through it all Hawk was quiet, still, at peace.
More jumble: Lifting on the wave of pain. Doctor. Tears and lamentations. Cresting on the wave of pain. Vague and intermittent drumbeats. Floating, washing toward death. Tonight his spirit, the one known to him as Hawk, would go beyond the pines. His heart flooded with warmth from Wi, the sun.
Tonight the single eye of his heart would close and his spirit would go to live beyond the pines.
His father wept. His mothers and uncle wept.
He yearned to go.
He tried to speak to them. “He, he, he,” he tried to say. Regret, regret, regret.
Hawk felt the wind in her face. She turned into it, and felt its lift. Power, power, the wind was power.
Gently, she raised her wings and rose a little. She hovered. The wind was from the north, and she understood, understood not in words, but in a change in her breast. The wind was growing colder. Yes, it was from the north. She would fly that direction, and on beyond the pines. She would not see the sun rise again.
She rose a little on the wind, feeling its strength. She still felt a wish to hover over this small cabin huddled in the darkness. She heard its human beings wailing, singing one of the great songs of their kind, a song of grief.
It was almost time, but not yet. An awareness held her like a falconer’s will, a connection with the man below, a beat.
She rode the wind there in the blackness, waiting.
It came simply. She felt a tug in her breast. It hurt a little, and she knew that the single eye below was closed, and the drum was silent.
She felt her freedom. It was time to fly.
Hawk mounted on the wind a little and turned to the west. She circled the cabin four times, sunwise. The first time she hovered for a moment in the west, where the Wakinyan dwell. The second time in the north, where the white giant lives. The third time in the east, home of the sun. Last she faced the south, the giver of life, as a salute.
She turned slowly back to the north, and felt a thrill at the strength of the wind. She mounted higher and higher into the black sky in great rings made sunwise, higher and higher. When she would have been beyond the sight of human beings even in daylight, she turned for the last time into the north wind, flapped her wings, and began her journey.
Before the sun rose on this earth she would be soaring beyond the pines at the edge of the world, beyond the path of the winds, away in the northern skies where there is no darkness, no sickness or sorrow of any kind can come, and the spirits dwell in peace and beauty.
HISTORICAL NOTE
Most of the characters and incidents in this book are historical. Where I have gone beyond the record, it is an attempt to explore more fully what is known—for example, the nature of Crazy Horse’s spirit guide, the texture of the romance between His Crazy Horse and Black Buffalo Woman, No Water’s enmity for His Crazy Horse, the details of His Crazy Horse’s friendship with Buffalo Hump, what was going on in the mind of Lt. William Philo Clark near the end, and so on.
The major elements of His Crazy Horse’s story have come to us from the Lakota people: The light-haired Curly did have the vision described here, did not tell anyone for a long time, and did have difficulty living his vision. He went against the Omaha with his maternal uncle Spotted Tail. Spotted Tail threw down his life and was imprisoned at Fort Leavenworth for a year. Curly rode bullet-proof against the People Who Live in Grass Lodges, and his father honored him with the name His Crazy Horse. His Crazy Horse did become a shirt wearer, did elope with Black Buffalo Woman, was shot by No Water, did have the shirt taken away, did marry Black Shawl, did have a daughter who died, etc.
The broad pictures of the lives of the principal Lakota around His Crazy Horse are also historical, though in places the evidence is slight: It’s likely that Curly’s blood mother, Rattling Blanket Woman, committed suicide. His father, a holy man, did subsequently take two sisters of Spotted Tail as wives. His Crazy Horse’s brother, Little Hawk, and his friend Hump were killed in fights like those described here, and in that year. The characterization of Red Cloud is intended seriously, and in my judgment fits the record.
Likewise the major political and military events here are historical, many of them set down in army records: After the incident with the Mormon cow, Grattan led twenty-nine soldiers to their death in the Sicangu village. Harney massacred women and children on the Blue Water. The battle of Creek of Turkeys, where the Cheyenne bullet-proofing failed, was actual. The great council at Bear Butte was real, as were th
e massacre at Sand Creek, the battle of Platte Bridge, the Fetterman fight, the wagon box fight, the engagement of the Lakota and Gen. George Crook at the Rosebud, the battle of the Little Bighorn and its military aftermath, the surrender of the Crazy Horse people at Fort Robinson, the subsequent maneuverings, and his betrayal and murder.
The principal characters and large events of this novel come from history. The interior lives of these characters, their emotions, and the meanings of these events to them are imagined.
Principal Historical Characters
LAKOTA
His Crazy Horse’s Immediate Family
His Crazy Horse, first known as Light Curly Hair, son of Tasunke Witko (His Crazy Horse), a Hunkpatila Oglala.
Tasunke Witko (His Crazy Horse), father of His Crazy Horse, later known as Worm.
Rattling Blanket Woman, a Mniconjou, first wife of Tasunke Witko and blood mother of His Crazy Horse.
Red Grass, wife of Tasunke Witko, sister of Spotted Tail, born a Sicangu. (Her actual name is unknown.)
Corn, wife of Tasunke Witko, sister of Spotted Tail, born a Sicangu. (Her actual name is unknown.)
Little Hawk, half brother of His Crazy Horse.
Kettle, sister of His Crazy Horse. (Her name is invented.)
Black Buffalo Woman, Bad Face, Crazy Horse’s love for many years, briefly his wife.
Black Shawl, Bad Face Oglala, His Crazy Horse’s second wife and mother of their daughter.
They-Are-Afraid-of-Her, His Crazy Horse’s daughter with Black Shawl.
Nellie Laravie, daughter of a trader, given to His Crazy Horse as another wife at Fort Robinson.
His Crazy Horse’s Extended Family
His Father’s Side
Long Face (earlier and later known as Little Hawk), His Crazy Horse’s father’s brother.
Ashes, His Crazy Horse’s father’s brother.
Bull Head, His Crazy Horse’s father’s brother.
Spotted Crow, His Crazy Horse’s father’s brother.
Black Elk, His Crazy Horse’s cousin, father to the Black Elk of Black Elk Speaks.
His Blood Mother’s Side
Lone Horn, his uncle, a Mniconjou.
Touch-the-Sky, his uncle, a Mniconjou.
His Adoptive Mothers’ Side
Spotted Tail, his maternal uncle.
Spotted Tail’s wives Spoon (an invented name) and Sweetwater Woman.
His In-laws
Red Feather, brother of Black Shawl.
Joe Laravie, trader near Fort Robinson, father of Crazy Horse’s last wife, Nellie.
His Crazy Horse’s Friends
Buffalo Hump, his hunka, a Hunkpatila Oglala.
Little Big Man, an Oglala, in this story a Bad Face.
Young Man-Whose-Enemies-Are-Afraid-of-His-Horses, Hunkpatila Oglala, a shirtman, son of the chief with the same name, later leader of the Hunkpatila.
Lone Bear, Hunkpatila Oglala.
He Dog, Bad Face Oglala, a shirtman.
Horn Chips, Bad Face Oglala, a stone dreamer, His Crazy Horse’s spiritual adviser.
His Crazy Horse’s Rivals Among the Bad Faces
No Water, Bad Face Oglala, brother of Black Twin and White Twin, husband of Black Buffalo Woman.
Pretty Fellow, later known as Woman Dress, son of chief Bad Face.
Standing Bear, brother of Woman Dress and Little Wolf.
Little Wolf, brother of Woman Dress and Standing Bear. (Note Cheyenne leader of same name.)
Black Twin, brother of White Twin and No Water.
White Twin, brother of Black Twin and No Water.
Red Cloud, Bad Face Oglala, war leader, treated by the whites as a major chief.
Red Dog, friend of Red Cloud.
Other Lakota
Bear-Scattering-His-Enemies, a leader of the Sicangu.
Sitting Bull, leader of the Hunkpapa.
Drum-on-His-Back, an Oglala who learned to read. Also known as Sitting Bull the Oglala.
Gall, a Hunkpapa and military leader at the Little Bighorn.
Big Road, a Bad Face leader.
Frank Grouard, Grabber, born to a Mormon missionary and Polynesian woman, adopted son of Sitting Bull, translator for the army, betrayer of Crazy Horse.
Billy Garnett, half-breed son of Confederate hero Robert Garnett and a Lakota woman, translator for the army.
Big Bat Pourier, half-breed son of a Lakota woman, translator for the army.
James Bordeaux, a half-breed trader and translator at Spotted Tail Agency.
CHEYENNE (SAHIYELA)
Morning Star, a leader, also known as Dull Knife.
Yellow Woman, rescued by Curly with her newborn son at the Blue Water, later his host among the Cheyenne.
Hail, a seer, brother of Yellow Woman.
Little Wolf, a leader.
WHITE MEN
Gen. George Crook, in command of U.S. Army forces against His Crazy Horse’s Lakota at Rosebud Creek, responsible for the decision to arrest His Crazy Horse at Fort Robinson. Known to the Lakota as Three Stars.
Brig. Gen. William Harney, who attacked Little Thunder’s peaceful village on the Blue Water. Known to the Lakota as White Beard and later as the Wasp.
Lt. John Bourke, Crook’s aide-de-camp at the Rosebud.
Bvt. Gen. George Armstrong Custer, army explorer of the Black Hills in 1874, in command of the Seventh Cavalry at the Greasy Grass (Little Bighorn) fight. Known to the Lakota as Long Hair or Yellow Hair.
Lt. William Philo Clark, aide to Crook and in command of the Lakota scouts at Fort Robinson. Known to the Lakota as White Hat.
Gen. Nelson Miles, who fought against the Lakota near the Yellowstone River in the winter of 1877. Known to the Lakota as Bear Coat.
Dr. Ferdinand Hayden, leader of a fossil-hunting expedition to the Maka Sica of South Dakota, later a principal explorer of the Yellowstone country. Known to the Lakota as Man-Who-Picks-Up-Stones-While-Running.
Lt. Col. William Judd Fetterman, who led infantry and calvary against the Lakota at Fort Phil Kearny in 1866, resulting in the deaths of all eighty-two soldiers.
Col. Henry Carrington, commander at Fort Phil Kearny in 1866.
Dr. James Irwin, agent at Red Cloud Agency at the time of His Crazy Horse’s death.
Col. Luther Bradley, commanding officer at Fort Robinson at the time of His Crazy Horse’s death.
Lt. Jesse Lee, agent at Spotted Tail Agency who brought Crazy Horse back under guard to Fort Robinson.
Capt. Daniel Webster Burke, commanding officer of Camp Sheridan, the military post at Spotted Tail Agency.
Pvt. William Gentles, soldier who bayoneted His Crazy Horse fatally.
Principal Imaginary Characters
Plum, Mniconjou, His Crazy Horse’s maternal grandmother by blood (Rattling Blanket Woman’s mother).
Flat Club, a drunken Sicangu, and his wives.
Porcupine, a heyoka.
Benoit, an interpreter for Ferdinand Hayden.
Paddy, an Irish sentry at Fort Phil Kearny in 1866.
A Note About the Names of Lakota People
The Lakota names have been mistranslated often over the years. Tasunke Witko, for instance, should be not Crazy Horse but His Crazy Horse, and Red Cloud might equally well be rendered Red Sky.
One of the errors has been to shorten names into a kind of equivalent of nicknames in English, a custom alien to Lakota people. Their names are often one word made of various words joined, like Elk-Standing-in-the-Water-Whistling, and Lakota people do not shorten this to Elk-Standing in their language. Sometimes this is because the picture made by the words shows some kind of medicine and that element would be lost completely if words were dropped.
Some of the mistranslations are serious. Man-Whose-Enemies-Are-Afraid-of-His-Horses has been misnamed Man-Afraid for a century, and the meaning of his name thus changed completely.
Other mistakes are minor. The Oglala leader commonly known as Big Road, for instance, should be called something like Broad Trail. (What does
“Big Road” mean anyway?)
In this book I’ve tried to strike a balance between strict correctness and convention. When the old translations are truly misleading, as in the case of “Man-Afraid,” I’ve chosen new ones. Where the implication of the name is close to the original, however, I’ve put the convenience of the reader first and kept the familiar English translation—thus Big Road, Red Cloud, etc., and usually Crazy Horse rather than His Crazy Horse.
AFTERWORD
This book is first of all a work of imagination.
In the form called the biographical novel the writer must make music in two keys at once, fulfilling the responsibilities of fiction and biography. These sometimes yield harmony and sometimes dissonance, because each seeks a different kind of truth.
The biographer’s fidelity is first of all to the particular shape of his subject’s life. He studies the record assiduously. First in his mind and then on paper he recreates a reality from it, working analytically, logically, always ready to rethink. He assembles the pieces as an outsider, and gives them the shape his judgment discerns. He restricts himself, more or less, to what can be proven.
The novelist’s aspiration, or at least my own, is less to limn the particular form of the life of his subject than to discover the profile of what is permanently human in it. So a story that begins as reportage, then metamorphoses into history, and is transformed once more, this time into myth.
For this transformation the novelist sees the facts as merely an armature for a work of art. And the tools he uses to create are not analysis, logic, and judgment, but feeling, imagination, and dream.
All this requires, absolutely requires, that he see his subject not analytically but holistically, as in a dream. Then he must sing boldly the song of his dream, whatever it is.
