White Bull and the others had asked Two Moon to speak for them. After breakfast and coffee, after they had passed the pipe among themselves, Two Moon stood now and talked as he looked at the Bear Coat, pausing frequently while Old Wool Woman translated for the half-breed, while Big Leggings translated for the ve-ho-e soldiers.
From the moment the soldier chief had begun to speak to them the night before, White Bull had begun to feel more certain he had made the right decision. And after their council with the Bear Coat was over, when the Lakota gathered with Hump in one tent and the Shahiyela gathered with Old Wolf and Crazy Head in another, most of the leaders admitted they were beginning to feel more confident that they had come north.
“We see what you have in your heart,” Two Moon continued. “It is well. We have decided to go back to our village, still a day’s ride up the Buffalo Tongue River. Our chiefs will bring the village down so we can move right into the post. And we will surrender to you.”
When the half-breed spoke his white man words to the Bear Coat, the translation made the soldier chief smile. The other soldiers in the small room slapped themselves on the back, leaning forward over the seated chiefs and warriors, extending their arms to the Bear Coat. One after another they all gripped the soldier chief’s hand and shook it in that white man way. So different, White Bull thought, from the way the Bear Coat shook our wrists yesterday.
That gesture told us we were his prisoners—not a happy thing. But this gesture among the white men this morning was one of unmistakable joy. These soldiers treat us so differently than they treat one another, when we are all warriors. All family men with wives and children. All men with hopes …
How White Bull hoped the good word of today would still be the good word of tomorrow.
Then Bruguier was talking to Old Wool Woman in Lakota as the soldiers grew quiet. A moment later, she was speaking to White Bull and the others.
“The Bear Coat is glad you have chosen to surrender to him here at his Elk River post,” she explained. “He says it’s a very good thing that you will return to our village to bring them here to surrender. So the Bear Coat wants one man to stay with him while the rest travel to bring up the village.”
“One man?” Two Moon echoed.
“Yes. This man will be as I was while I stayed with the Bear Coat,” she instructed. “If the rest return, that man will be released. But if the village flees and does not come to the Bear Coat, then that man will be the soldier chief’s prisoner.”
“He will not hold you captive as he did before?” asked Sleeping Rabbit.
“No. I am free to go back to my people,” Old Wool Woman said. “To return here with them to surrender.”
“He wants a man to stay as hostage?” asked Crazy Mule.
“A warrior leader,” she explained.
Then Two Moon turned to the group who sat around him. “Who among our young men will do this for our people?”
White Bull watched their eyes drop. They were fearful of treachery. “How quickly our young men talk of fighting,” the holy man chided them. “But when our leaders ask them to do a truly brave thing, these warriors lose their tongues.”
“One among you, surely,” Two Moon prodded the others. “One man to stay here with the soldiers, to stay with the women and children until we return with the village.”
“I am not a woman or a child!” retorted Brave Wolf.
“Yes!” agreed Roan Bear. “A warrior does not make a prisoner of himself unless he is willing to give his life over to his enemy.”
On and on they argued that morning, back and forth, looping all around the question, and still Two Moon could not convince a single young warrior to stay behind when the others left.
Just past midday in that cramped office, an exasperated Two Moon confided to Old Wool Woman, “Tell the Bear Coat that we cannot decide who will stay as his prisoner. We are going to talk among ourselves some more and when we have our answer, we will come to the soldier chief’s house again.”
They filed out, tromping back to their tents where the Ohmeseheso and the Lakota sat around their fires and talked in low tones as the sun fell and night eventually spread across the land.
Two Moon spoke to the young men again the following morning, when all were up and had relieved themselves. Time dragged on and on, but still not one of them volunteered to stay with the soldiers as a prisoner. It became plain to White Bull that this was a matter of nothing more than pride. The simple, vulnerable pride of men who have agreed to surrender, but never entertained the idea they would be made prisoner.
“Old Wool Woman,” White Bull said, standing beside the fire as he handed his tin soldier cup to Iron Shirt. “I want you to go tell Big Leggings my words for the Bear Coat.”
Hump, his younger brother Horse Road, and their Lakota stepped in close around the Northern People seated in a ring at the fire.
“Tell the Bear Coat that I will stay,” White Bull continued as the group fell silent. On all sides many young warriors quickly put their hands to their mouths in amazement.
“You will stay?” Old Wool Woman repeated.
“Yes,” the holy man said. “I do not know what the Bear Coat wants with me, I do not know what the soldiers will do with me … but I will stay.”
Two Moon quickly came to stand before the older man. “You are certain you should do this?”
“If none of us will stay, then we are all prisoners,” White Bull explained to them quietly above the crackle of the fire. “If we are to make peace with the Bear Coat, then one of us must stay while the village comes to this place.”
“Surely, one of our younger men can step forward now and do this brave thing!” Old Wolf scolded the warriors.
“No,” White Bull declared, waving his hands to quiet the hubbub. “I have decided this is for me to do. If we are to believe in the Bear Coat, then the Bear Coat must believe in us. This is the only way we can make peace for our people. Go now—make your plans to return to the village. They are cold. They are very hungry. Bring them here where we can feed them and make them warm.”
Leaping to his feet, Iron Shirt began dancing in a tiny circle at the edge of the fire, singing his war song. Other men began chanting theirs. This was good and powerful medicine that enveloped White Bull at this moment of his courage. This was like a bravery run.
Surely what he had agreed to do was like four bravery runs!
No—this giving of one’s self over to the soldiers for the good of his people was like something no man of the Ohmeseheso had ever done before!
Chapter 18
Mid-February
1877
“THE NEW GOLD FIELDS”
THE BIG HORN COUNTRY LOOMING UP.
AN EXPEDITION TO START IN APRIL.
AN OUTFITTING POINT WITHIN 150 MILES.
Best Route, Etc., Etc.
An expedition of from 200 to 300 miners and prospectors will leave Rawlins for the Big Horn country between the first and the tenth days of April, 1877, headed by the oldest miners and mountaineers in the west. It is desired by those going to increase their number as greatly as possible in order to secure safety and success in prospecting … All persons should go prepared to outfit themselves with a saddle-horse, packhorse and prospector’s outfit. There are large stores at Rawlins where everything required for a complete outfit can be bought cheaper than parties could take the goods there. The merchants have agreed to furnish this expedition with their provisions at the actual cost of them laid down at Rawlins. Horses are plenty and can be bought at from $30 to $75. Any person desiring information will receive a prompt answer by writing to any of the following committee:
DR. T.M. SMITH,
P.J. FOSTER, Merchant,
JUDGE H.F. ERRET,
G. CARL SMITH, Attorney
at Law, Rawlins, Wyo.
Seamus could tell by the way the newspaper was folded and creased just so, that Samantha had intended for him to read that newspaper advertisement.
Thi
s was no casual dropping of the paper after she had read this latest edition of the Rocky Mountain News, freighted up from Denver with provisions bound for Fort Laramie. She had purposely wanted him to discover it here this morning after she and some other wives had gone next door.
Didn’t she know how long the gold sickness had burned in him? As far back as those youthful days when he’d first come to Amerikay, listening to the overblown tales of the great California gold rush. Then just when he figured he might be old enough to strike out on his own for the Colorado hills, the Great War had come along and swept him up.
As soon as Appomattox had ended that horrid war and he was mustered out, why—Seamus had thrown in with a seasoned veteran and started for the gold diggings of Virginia City and nearby Nevada City. But he and Colonel Sam Marr had run afoul of Colonel Henry B. Carrington’s army, and bumped right up against the Lakota of Red Cloud.
One of these days, Seamus had promised himself, he would get up to the gold diggings. If Virginia City had played out … he’d heard some of Tom Moore’s packers talking about Last Chance Gulch. The last time he’d received word from Sam Marr years ago before heading out for Oregon Country and Captain Jack’s war,* Last Chance Gulch was where Sam had staked a claim. Maybe he would have his own last chance after all up there in Montana Territory.
Oh, sure and begora, Seamus realized he could have skedaddled west to Salt Lake City with Samantha long ago, headed north from there on a much, much safer route than that bloody Bozeman Road.
But there had been this job to do. And it was honorable work for a man more used to making his daily bread with the strength of his back than by the power of his wits. Scouting was something he could do and do well. On this dirty, winner-take-all frontier he could have done a lot worse to feed his family.
By the Virgin Mary! Hadn’t he done well by Samantha and the boy? They wanted for nothing … except perhaps for his being there a wee bit more from time to time.
Did Samantha really think it would be better for him to be off chasing gold than off chasing the last of the hostiles? At least he had made himself a handsome purse now and then by stalking those warriors, while he never did find any of the gold that lured him west in ’66, the same gold he was bound and determined to find when he brought her north from Texas in the fall of ’75 just as this bloodbath of an Indian war was fixing to erupt.†
He read through the advertisement once more as he sat there on the edge of their tiny rope-and-tick bed. Seamus wondered if Samantha understood that he couldn’t leave this before the job was done. And he wondered if Sam understood it really wasn’t a matter of army pay versus Rocky Mountain gold. This was something that ran as deep in him as a vein of gold in the high country. Something much, much deeper than a matter of making a living.
This was where the Irishman knew he belonged. Here, in this rugged country thrust up against the far purple mountains. And until this war came to an end, this land wasn’t going to be safe for any woman, any child.
No matter if that woman were Samantha and that child were his son, Colin Teig Donegan, neither one was safe until this war was brought to a close. No matter if it were some Lakota woman or some Cheyenne child caught in some sleeping village when the army charged down on them.
For now no one was safe in this country the Irishman had come to claim as his home. And too much blood had been shed in his own front yard.
The time had come.
This war had to be brought to a close before Seamus Donegan and his family could get on with their lives.
* * *
Old Wool Woman could see how nervous the soldiers were as soon as the warriors mounted their ponies that morning and rode across the new snow to present themselves at the Bear Coat’s log lodge.
The Ohmeseheso chiefs and Hump’s Lakota formed a crescent in front of the door at least three riders deep.
From the window of the lodge where she and the other hostages were staying, Old Wool Woman recognized the fear on the faces of the two young soldiers standing at the Bear Coat’s doorway. Other soldiers barked and snapped, ordering more of the ve-ho-e out of their warm places, into their buffalo-hide coats and the sub-zero temperatures, to hurriedly form a phalanx between the riders and the hut where the soldier chief lived.
“I should go outside and tell them,” Old Wool Woman said to her daughter, Fingers Woman. The two women stood together, shoulders butted, their noses pressed against the frosted windowpane.
“Tell them what?” Fingers Woman asked.
Old Wool Woman turned from the window and swept up her blanket. “Tell our chiefs that they have frightened the soldiers into lining up the way they do when they are ready for a fight.”
Then she dashed out the door, speeding across the frozen, trampled snow toward the scene.
“Two Moon!” Old Wool Woman called as she reached the rear of the horsemen, her voice all but buried beneath the growling of the soldier leaders.
“Do these ve-ho-e want to fight us this morning?” Old Wolf turned to ask her as she pushed her way between the ponies to reach the front row.
“I think they believe you want to fight,” she said, a little breathless from her sprint in the cold, dry air.
“We have come to tell the Bear Coat our farewells,” Crazy Head explained.
“I know,” she replied, gazing up at the old chief, then pointed at the soldiers arrayed between the horsemen and the log hut. “But these soldiers don’t know why you have come here.”
“Tell them we want to see the Bear Coat,” Two Moon said to her.
“I cannot speak their tongue,” she confessed. “Cannot make them understand me—”
The door behind her suddenly dragged open across its timbered threshold. Some of the soldiers turned with a jerk, yanking up their rifles as White Bull appeared in the doorway, his buffalo robe clutched about his shoulders.
“Two Moon,” the holy man called.
“White Bull,” Two Moon gave his greeting. “Is the Bear Coat inside with you?”
“He must still be sleeping,” he admitted. “I have not seen him this morning. I slept by the Bear Coat’s small fire-box last night.”
Just then a pair of soldiers pushed up through the others and stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of White Bull, facing the holy man, barring his exit from the log lodge. Behind the pair a single soldier appeared, shouting over White Bull’s head into the darkened interior.
“They do not want White Bull to walk free,” Two Moon announced gravely.
Sleeping Rabbit agreed, “I think the soldiers are afraid we have come to take White Bull back.”
“To steal him away and flee from this place,” White Thunder added.
“These soldiers are too nervous,” Two Moon declared to White Bull. “Perhaps you shouldn’t stay behind with them, my friend. I think it is better if you come with us back to the village this morning. We will all return here together—”
“I gave the Bear Coat my word,” White Bull interrupted. “If he cannot trust my word, then there is no common ground for us to make peace together.”
At that moment the two soldiers retreated one pace and stopped as the soldier chief appeared beside White Bull. He gently nudged the holy man aside and stepped into the new day’s light, speaking to his soldiers. A heartbeat later, the half-breed loped up, his big coat flapping, rubbing his gritty eyes.
After the Bear Coat grumbled at Big Leggings, the half-breed turned to Old Wool Woman and said, “What is happening?”
“The chiefs came to say goodbye to the Bear Coat.”
“Is that why they are here?” he asked. “On their ponies, with their rifles out?”
She turned to quickly look over that front row of chiefs. “They came here to this place on their ponies and with their weapons. They will ride back to our village on those ponies and with their weapons.”
“Why are they showing their weapons?” Big Leggings demanded, still rubbing one red eye. “That is not a good sign to the soldiers.”
>
“I think you should tell the soldier chief that the men of my people haven’t surrendered to him yet. Those ponies still belong to the chiefs. And those are still their guns.”
“What they did made the soldiers scared—”
“Two Moon and the chiefs vowed they would return and surrender.”
Wagging his head in consternation as he stepped up beside the Bear Coat, the half-breed said, “The rifles still scare the soldiers.”
“I think some of these soldiers would get scared if a magpie shadow crossed over them,” she observed wryly. “Tell the Bear Coat these chiefs mean no harm. Say that they have come to offer their farewell before returning to our village.”
“They will bring the village here?”
For a moment she pursed her lips, and finally said, “Big Leggings, you were there when these men stood against the others, stood against the Elkhorn Scrapers and the Crazy Dogs, and promised they would seek peace with the Bear Coat. These are honorable men. I am glad they do not understand your thoughtless, wounding words.”
She watched his eyes flick up and Old Wool Woman knew he was looking to see if Hump had been listening to their talk in Lakota.
“I made a mistake by questioning their promise,” he said.
Immediately the half-breed turned to talk with the soldier chief in the ve-ho-e tongue. Then he turned back to Old Wool Woman. “The Bear Coat and his men understand. He says he knows the word of your chiefs is straight and true, that they will return here with their ponies and weapons, with the rest of the village. He knows they will keep their word to surrender to him even though some of Sitting Bull’s Lakota promised they would surrender last autumn, then ran away.”
“We are Ohmeseheso,” Two Moon replied after Old Wool Woman translated. “I do not know about those Lakota the Bear Coat chased last autumn. Perhaps they had very good reason to run away from his soldiers. I am reminded that it takes two sides to make a peace, Big Leggings. Not just those who surrender to stop the killing.”
He waited for the double translation, then Two Moon continued, “Here we are, all ready to go back to our village. The Bear Coat asked for one man from our party to stay with him, and White Bull has agreed to stay.”
Ashes of Heaven (The Plainsmen Series) Page 17
