During the nine days of counseling, more Crow arrived, led by Father Pierre Jean DeSmet, a Roman Catholic missionary who had been living among the Crow and had succeeded in converting some of them to Christianity and to white man’s ways. Father DeSmet had worked with Crow and Blackfeet and Potawatomi as well as Sioux, and was often used by the government as a peacemaker on such occasions as treaty signing.
The Crow were accompanied by Assiniboin, Minnataree, and Arikaras, who had all come along for the adventure, to see the great gathering of Sioux, Cheyenne, and Arapaho and to learn what the treaty was about, as well as to answer the Great White Father’s plea that all tribes of Indians gather together and make peace among themselves, for warring among the tribes was the cause of considerable problems for white settlers who got caught in the middle of the fighting.
But with the absence of the Kiowa and the Comanche, this two-fold purpose of the treaty gathering could not be fully accomplished. And so, there was still much work ahead for the United States government, for not yet was there peace among the tribes. Even the Sioux had come mainly to see their Cheyenne friends and to find out what the treaty offer would be; they were not prepared to do any treaty signing of their own. They were much less trusting of the white man than the Cheyenne; and in the years to come, the Cheyenne would come to understand that the Sioux were right in their distrust. The day would come when Sioux and Cheyenne would be brought closer together in their fight for freedom, but for now, the Cheyenne felt strongly inclined to sign the treaty, because it offered good land and the white men who made the offer seemed sincere, even though the wagons full of promised gifts from the East still had not arrived.
The nine days of counseling included a great show of apology, made by the Cheyenne to the Shoshoni. The Cheyenne staged a great feast for the Shoshoni and presented their old enemies with tobacco, blankets, and cloth, as well as the scalps of the two Shoshoni scouts the Cheyenne had killed. Several children were traded between the two tribes to symbolize the supreme demonstration of their melding together and their oneness that should not be broken. It was a practice not often used, but one that brought with it the highest form of representative friendship, to trust one’s child to another tribe; and it was accepted by the families involved with pride and courage. It was the way of the People.
It was finally decided. The Cheyenne would accept the treaty. Four chiefs signed, including the great peacemaker, Yellow Wolf. The treaty was attested by the interpreter, John Smith, and the Indians were given Army uniforms for warm clothing in winter and flags to remind them that they were now a part of the United States and must be loyal to the Great White Father and keep the word of the treaty.
Three Cheyenne men—Little Chief, White Antelope, and Alights-On-The-Cloud—agreed to accompany Agent Fitzpatrick to St. Louis and Washington to see for themselves the power and might of the great United States. The chiefs were given a copy of the treaty, rolled up and tied with a scarlet ribbon; but to Zeke, the scarlet ribbon only represented the blood the Cheyenne would surely shed in the years to come. Already, part of the bargain had not been kept. The wagons full of badly needed food and supplies promised the Cheyenne still had not arrived.
It was not until three days later that the supplies finally reached the treaty site, and annuities were distributed, after which the tribes parted. For most of them, it was a touching and sad leavetaking, for they had spent weeks together, feasting and dancing and enjoying friendships—finding a peace they needed to regain their strength from the terrible cholera and the other diseases that had brought so much sorrow and confusion and havoc to the Plainsmen. They left feeling stronger and more united, and the Cheyenne had land they could call their own now. Wagh! It was good!
But their simple hearts did not understand the red tape that must be waded through in Congress in order to ratify the treaty, or that such ratification could take a year or more, or that even though they had already signed the treaty agreeing to certain terms, Congress had the right to alter it if they chose. This, the Cheyenne could not understand, for to them a man’s word was his word, and it could not be changed.
Abbie rode her fine Appaloosa, with Blue Sky in front of her, slowly moving with her own band as the thousands of Plainsmen departed in all directions. The Treaty of 1851 was finished, at least for the Cheyenne. They would go home now, the Cheyenne and Arapaho, to the land that was to be their own; the Crow and Shoshoni would head back to the Rocky Mountains, the Sioux northeast to Paha-Sapa, the Sacred Hills of the Dakotas.
Zeke bid farewell to his white brother, knowing they would meet again and hoping it would still be under friendly circumstances, but both were aware of the precarious future that lay in wait for them. Lt. Daniel Monroe watched his half-breed brother leave with a heavy heart. He knew that if it came down to a fight between Indians and soldiers, Cheyenne Zeke would fight for his red brothers, and Daniel Monroe did not relish the torment that could bring to them both.
Zeke and Swift Arrow rode to catch up with their band, but Swift Arrow stopped his brother at the top of a ridge. For a moment they both quietly looked down on the procession of horses, dogs, warriors, women, children, and travois below. Then Swift Arrow turned to Zeke and put out his hand.
“I leave you, my brother. Go in peace to the Arkansas. I stay here with our northern brothers.”
Zeke frowned. “What are you talking about. Swift Arrow?”
Swift Arrow looked out at the band again and nodded. “Down there rides a white woman—your woman.” He looked back at Zeke. “I will say it simply, my brother, so that you will understand. It is easier for me this way—to not go back with you. For although it would have been foolish and her answer would have been no, I must confess to you that if you had not returned those winters back when you took the wagons to Santa Fe, Swift Arrow would have asked your white woman to be his own.”
Their eyes held for several long seconds, and Zeke felt a terrible ache in his heart, a mixture of sorrow for his lonely brother and anger that he would have such feelings. Yet knowing Abbie, he could not blame Swift Arrow, and he knew his brother meant this as the highest form of compliment for her. Zeke nodded and took his brother’s hand. They gripped wrists firmly and for several seconds.
“May Maheo ride with you, Swift Arrow.”
“And with you and your loved ones, my brother,” the man replied, his eyes watery. “Our mother is gone now. I have no reason to stay on. But our paths will surely cross in the years to come.”
“They surely will,” Zeke answered.
“I shall miss Hinta Nagi.”
“Come and see us, Swift Arrow. You know you are welcome always.”
Swift Arrow studied his brother. “Perhaps … in time.” They released hands. “You are good man, my half-blood brother. You have enough white in you that she can love you. Her eyes shine for you, and her heart beats for you. Her blood runs hot for you and always will, even in old age. This anyone can see, for she has given up much for you and that is what I admire in her. Always it will be Zeke and Abbie, Abbie and Zeke, always. A woman does not free her heart of a man like you. You were the first to brand her, and the burn runs deep.” He backed his horse. “I will miss the children, my brother. Black Elk is young, but he is also a fine warrior and your brother. He will be glad to take over the teachings of Little Rock to become a Cheyenne warrior. Give him to Black Elk.”
Zeke nodded.
“Red Eagle!” Swift Arrow spit. “He has become worthless! Do not let him spread his evil influence on my nephew, for the whiskey has warped his brain. I am sorry for our brother, Red Eagle—and ashamed.”
“So am I, Swift Arrow,” Zeke answered. “It is a sad thing. I am glad our mother did not live to see Red Eagle as he is now.”
Swift Arrow nodded. “Go now. Go to her … to the white woman with the Cheyenne heart.” Their eyes held a moment longer, and then Swift Arrow left him, riding north.
Zeke watched Swift Arrow go, his chest aching at the parting. It seemed li
fe was always a tangle of loving and hating, living and dying, greeting and saying good-bye. He wanted to weep, but he could not. He looked toward the departing Southern Cheyenne.
“You’re some woman, Abbie girl,” he said softly. He goaded his Appaloosa into motion, building to a fast gallop, and sod flew as he rode across the rolling plain toward his woman. He knew that tonight he would claim her with more passion than he had ever felt before. It was as Swift Arrow had said. Always it would be Zeke and Abbie, Abbie and Zeke, forever.
Epilogue
The autumn of 1851 was the end of an era, and the dawn of change for the Great West, a time when young privates like Danny Monroe could become officers overnight, army forts had begun springing up like mushrooms, and the Great Medicine Road and other westward trails were congested with long white lines of moving “houses on wheels.” It was a place where women like Anna Gale and men like Winston Garvey could become instant millionaires, and children like little Charles Garvey learned hard lessons they would carry with them forever.
In the Great West, the peace and freedom the Indians had once known were fast disappearing, and the wild tribes of the Plains soon would no longer drink the wind. In the Great West, long-lost brothers could find one another again, only to fight on different sides and a woman with the letter Z carved deeply into her cheeks could become a legendary leader of notorious outlaws and could flaunt her evil ways with no law to stop her.
In the Great West, a white woman could love a half-breed and live with Indians and be proud.
In the Great West, life was due for dramatic changes, and yet some things would never change, just as the Cheyenne death song foretold.…
Nothing lives long.
Nothing stays here
Except the earth and the mountains.
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