by Dee Brown
Through it all, Red Cloud refused to interfere. He was not surprised when many of the protesters packed up their tepees and belongings and started back north to spend the winter off the reservation. They had proved to him that there were still Sioux warriors who would never take lightly any invasion of Paha Sapa. But Red Cloud did not realize that his authority as a chief was now in decline. In the future, younger warriors would look to Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse, neither of whom had ever lived on a reservation or taken the white man’s handouts, for leadership.
By the spring of 1875, tales of Black Hills gold had brought hundreds of miners into Paha Sapa. The army sent soldiers to stop the flow of prospectors. A few were removed from the hills, but no legal action was taken against them, and they soon returned to prospect their claims.
Alarmed by the white men’s gold craze and the army’s failure to protect their territory, Red Cloud and Spotted Tail made strong protests to Washington officials. The Great Father’s response was to send out a commission to make a treaty with the Sioux “for the relinquishment of the Black Hills.” In other words, the time had come to take away one more piece of territory that had been assigned to the Indians in perpetuity. As usual, the commission was made up of politicians, missionaries, traders, and military officers. Senator William B. Allison of Iowa was the chairman. Reverend Samuel D. Hinman was the principal missionary. Brigadier General Alfred Terry—known to the Indians as One Star Terry—represented the military. John Collins, post trader at Fort Laramie, represented the commercial interests.
Brigadier General Alfred H. Terry, whose name among the
Sioux was One Star Terry. [LOC, DIG-cwpbh-00101]
To ensure representation of nonagency as well as agency Indians, runners were sent to invite Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, and other “wild” chiefs to the council. A half-breed named Louis Richard took the government letter to Sitting Bull and read it to him.
“I want you to go and tell the Great Father,” Sitting Bull responded, “that I do not want to sell any land to the government.” He picked up a pinch of dust and added, “Not even as much as this.” Crazy Horse was also opposed to the selling of Sioux land, especially the Black Hills. He refused to attend the council, but he sent his lieutenant Little Big Man to be an observer for the free Oglalas.
If the commissioners expected to meet quietly with a few compliant chiefs and arrange an inexpensive trade, they were in for a rude surprise. When they arrived at the meeting place, the plains for miles around were covered with Sioux camps and immense herds of grazing ponies. Representatives from all the Sioux nations and many of their Cheyenne and Arapaho friends—more than 20,000 Indians—had gathered.
A 1904 caricature of Senator William B. Allison. [LOC, USZ62-98134]
Few of them had seen a copy of the treaty of 1868, but many knew the meaning of a certain clause in that sacred document: “No treaty for the cession of any portion or part of the reservation herein described … shall be of any validity or force … unless executed and signed by at least three-fourths of all the adult male Indians occupying or interested in the same.” Even if the commissioners had been able to intimidate or to buy off every chief present, they could not have obtained more than a few dozen signatures from the thousands of angry, well-armed warriors determined to keep every pinch of dust and blade of grass within their territory.
On September 20, 1875, the commission assembled under the shade of a large tarp. The commissioners seated themselves on chairs facing the thousands of Indians who were moving restlessly about in the distance. A troop of 120 cavalrymen on white horses filed in from Camp Robinson, as it was then known, and drew up in a line behind the canvas shelter. Spotted Tail arrived in a wagon from his agency, but Red Cloud had announced that he would not be there. A few other chiefs drifted in, and then suddenly a cloud of dust boiled up from the crest of a distant rise. A band of Indians came galloping down upon the council shelter. The warriors were dressed for battle, and as they came nearer they swerved to encircle the commissioners, fired their rifles skyward, and gave out a few whoops before trotting off to form a line immediately to the rear of the cavalrymen. By this time, a second band of Indians was approaching, and thus, tribe by tribe, the Sioux warriors came in, making their demonstrations of power, until a great circle of several thousand Indians enclosed the council. Now the chiefs came forward, well satisfied that they had given the commissioners something strong to think about. They sat in a semicircle facing the nervous white men, eager to hear what they would have to say about the Black Hills.
A few days earlier, the commissioners had been at Camp Robinson observing the mood of the Indians. They recognized the futility of trying to buy the hills and had decided instead to negotiate for the mineral rights. “We have now to ask you if you are willing to give our people the right to mine in the Black Hills,” Senator Allison began, “as long as gold or other valuable minerals are found, for a fair and just sum. If you are so willing, we will make a bargain with you for this right. When the gold or other valuable minerals are taken away, the country will again be yours to dispose of in any manner you may wish.”
Spotted Tail took this proposal as a joke. Was the commissioner asking the Indians to lend the Black Hills to the white men for a while? His response was to ask Senator Allison if he would lend him a team of mules on such terms.
“It will be hard for our government to keep the whites out of the hills,” Allison continued. “To try to do so will give you and our government great trouble, because the whites that may wish to go there are very numerous.” The senator’s ignorance of the Plains Indians’ feeling for the Powder River country was displayed in his next proposal: “There is another country lying far toward the setting sun, over which you roam and hunt, and which territory is [wilderness], extending to the summit of the Bighorn Mountains…. It does not seem to be of very great value or use to you, and our people think they would like to have the portion of it I have described.”
While Senator Allison’s incredible demands were being translated, Red Dog rode up on a pony and announced that he had a message from Red Cloud. The absent Oglala chief requested a week’s recess to give the tribes time to hold councils of their own in which to consider all proposals concerning their lands. The commissioners agreed to give the Indians three days.
The idea of giving up their last great hunting ground was so preposterous that none of the chiefs even discussed it during their councils. They did debate very earnestly the question of the Black Hills. Some reasoned that if the United States government had no intention of enforcing the treaty and keeping the white miners out, then perhaps the Indians should demand payment—a great deal of money—for the yellow metal taken from the hills. Others were determined not to sell at any price. The Black Hills belonged to the Indians, they argued. If the Bluecoat soldiers would not drive out the miners, then the warriors must.
On September 23, the commissioners, riding in army ambulances from Camp Robinson and escorted by a larger cavalry troop, again arrived at the council shelter. Red Cloud was there early, and he protested vigorously about the large number of soldiers. Just as he was preparing to give his preliminary speech to the commissioners, a sudden commotion broke out among the warriors far in the distance. About 300 Oglalas who had come in from the Powder River country trotted their ponies down a slope, occasionally firing off rifles. Some were chanting a song in Sioux.
The Black Hills is my land and I love it
And whoever interferes
Will hear this gun.
An Indian mounted on a gray horse forced his way through the ranks of warriors gathered around the canvas shelter. He was Crazy Horse’s envoy, Little Big Man, stripped for battle and wearing two revolvers belted to his waist. “I will kill the first chief who speaks for selling the Black Hills!” he shouted. He danced his horse across the open space between the commissioners and the chiefs.
Young-Man-Afraid-of-His-Horses and a group of unofficial Sioux policemen immediately
swarmed around Little Big Man and moved him away. The chiefs and the commissioners, however, must have guessed that Little Big Man voiced the feelings of most of the warriors present. General Terry suggested to his fellow commissioners that they board the army ambulances and return to the safety of Camp Robinson.
In 1891, John Nicholas Choate photographed Young-Man-Afraid-of-His-Horses during a visit to the Carlisle Indian Industrial School. Choate became famous as the photographer of life at this boarding school for Sioux children in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. [LOC, USZ62-107821]
After giving the Indians a few days to calm down, the commissioners quietly arranged a meeting with 20 chiefs in the headquarters building of the Red Cloud agency. During three days of speech making, the chiefs made it quite clear to the Great Father’s representatives that the Black Hills could not be bought cheaply, if at any price. Spotted Tail finally grew impatient with the commissioners and asked them to submit a definite proposal in writing.
The offer was $400,000 a year for the mineral rights; or if the Sioux wished to sell the hills outright, the price would be $6 million, payable in 15 annual installments. (This was a markdown price indeed. One Black Hills mine alone would later yield more than $500 million in gold.)
Red Cloud did not even appear for the final meeting. He let Spotted Tail speak for all the Sioux. Spotted Tail firmly rejected both offers. The Black Hills were not for lease or for sale.
The commissioners packed up, returned to Washington, reported their failure, and recommended that Congress disregard the wishes of the Indians and make a payment “as a fair equivalent of the value of the hills.” This forced purchase of the Black Hills should be “presented to the Indians as a finality,” they said.
Thus was set in motion a chain of actions that would bring the greatest defeat ever suffered by the United States Army in its wars with the Indians and ultimately would destroy forever the freedom of the northern Plains Indians.
It began with a recommendation written on November 9, 1875, by E. C. Watkins, special inspector for the Office of Indian Affairs. He wrote that nonagency Indians were a threat to the reservation system and that troops should be sent to “whip them into subjection.” This led Commissioner of Indian Affairs Edward P. Smith to order all nonreservation Indians to report to agencies by January 31, 1876. If they did not, a “military force would be sent to compel them.”
When runners went out from the agencies late in December to warn the nonagency chiefs to come in, heavy snows blanketed the northern Plains. Blizzards and severe cold made it impossible for some couriers to return until weeks after the January 31 deadline. It would have been impossible to move women and children by ponies and travois. And, had the “hostiles” somehow managed to reach the agencies, they would have starved there. Reservation food supplies were so low that hundreds of Indians left in March to go north in search of game to supplement their meager government rations.
Philip Sheridan in a photograph probably taken in 1865 when he was a major general. In 1869 he was promoted to lieutenant general and made commander of the Military Division of the Missouri, which was responsible for the northern plains. In
January of that year, Sheridan was introduced to the Comanche chief Tosawi, who was surrendering his band. Tosawi pointed to himself and said in broken English, “Tosawi good Indian.” Sheridan replied, “The only good Indians I ever saw were dead.” His quote was later turned into “The only good Indian is a dead Indian.” [LOC, DIG-cwpbh-01010]
It was in the Moon of the Dark Red Calves (February) that the government decided to act. On February 7, after the deadline had expired, Secretary of War William W. Belknap authorized Lieutenant General Philip Sheridan, commander of the military district that included the Sioux lands, to begin military operations against the “hostile Sioux.” The next day, General Sheridan issued his orders. The Bluecoats’ campaign against Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, and their allies had begun.
The January 31 ultimatum had been basically a declaration of war against the independent Indians, and many of them had accepted it as that. But they had not expected the Bluecoats to strike as soon as they did. In the Moon of the Snowblind (March), Brigadier General George Crook, called Three Stars Crook, came marching north with his men from Fort Fetterman along the old Bozeman Trail.
Brigadier General George Crook in an undated photograph. [LOC, DIG-cwpbh-03770]
About this time, a band of Northern Cheyenne and Oglala Sioux left Red Cloud’s agency to go to the Powder River country, where they hoped to find a few buffalo and antelope. About the middle of March, they joined some nonagency Indians, both Sioux and Cheyenne, camped a few miles from where the Little Powder River runs into the Powder River. Two Moon was among the Cheyenne leaders.
Without warning, at dawn on March 17, a cavalry force under the command of Colonel Joseph J. Reynolds attacked this peaceful camp. Fearing nothing in their own country, the Indians were asleep when two troops of cavalry dashed into the tepee village, firing pistols and rifles. At the same time, a third troop swept away the Indians’ horse herd.
The first reaction from the warriors was to get as many villagers as possible out of the way of the soldiers, who were firing recklessly in all directions. As the women, children, and elderly scrambled and hobbled up a rugged mountain slope, the warriors took positions on ledges or behind huge rocks. From these places they kept the soldiers at bay until the others could escape across the Powder River.
The Bluecoats burned the tepees with everything in them, destroyed all the pemmican and saddles in the camp, and drove away almost every pony the Indians owned. As soon as darkness fell, the warriors went to where the Bluecoats were camped, determined to recover their stolen horses. Two Moon described what happened next: “That night the soldiers slept, leaving the horses to one side; so we crept up and stole them back again, and then we went away.”
A photograph of Joseph J. Reynolds taken during the Civil War. [LOC, DIG-ppmsca-22323]
Three Stars Crook was so angry at Colonel Reynolds for allowing the Indians to escape from their village and recover their horses that he ordered him court-martialed. The army reported this foray as “the attack on Crazy Horse’s village,” but Crazy Horse was miles away to the northeast. It took Two Moon and the other survivors more than three days to reach his camp.
Crazy Horse received the cold, starving fugitives hospitably, gave them robes and food, and found room for them in the Oglala tepees. “I’m glad you are come,” he said to Two Moon after listening to accounts of the Bluecoats plundering the village. “We are going to fight the white man again.”
“All right,” Two Moon replied. “I am ready to fight. I have fought already. My people have been killed, my horses stolen; I am satisfied to fight.”
In the Geese Laying Moon (April), when the grass was tall and the horses were strong, Crazy Horse broke camp and led the Oglalas and Cheyenne north to the mouth of the Tongue River, where Sitting Bull and the Hunkpapas had been living through the winter. Not long after that, a chief named Lame Deer arrived with a band of Minneconjous and asked permission to camp nearby. They had heard about all the Bluecoats marching through the Sioux hunting grounds and wanted to be near Sitting Bull’s powerful band of Hunkpapas should there be any trouble.
As the weather warmed, the tribes began moving northward in search of wild game and fresh grass. Along the way, they were joined by bands of Brulés, Sans Arcs, Blackfoot Sioux, and additional Cheyenne. Most of these Indians had left their reservations in accordance with their treaty rights as hunters. Those who had heard of the January 31 ultimatum either considered it only another idle threat of the Great Father’s agents or did not believe it applied to peaceful Indians.
NINE
Victory at Little Bighorn
The chargers are coming! They are charging! The chargers are coming!
—SIOUX CRIERS ANNOUNCING THE ATTACK BY MAJOR MARCUS RENO
WHILE THESE SEVERAL THOUSAND INDIANS were camped on the Rosebud River, many young wa
rriors joined them from the reservations. They brought rumors of great forces of Bluecoats marching from three directions. Three Stars Crook was coming from the south. The One Who Limps (Colonel John Gibbon, commander of troops in a fort in southeast Montana Territory) was coming from the west. One Star Terry and Long Hair Custer were coming from the east.
Early in the Moon of Making Fat (June), the Hunkpapas had their annual Sun Dance. For three days, Sitting Bull danced, bled himself, and stared at the sun until he fell into a trance and had a vision. When he rose again, he spoke to his people. In his vision he had heard the voice of Wakantanka the Great Spirit crying, “I give you these because they have no ears.” When he looked into the sky he saw soldiers falling like grasshoppers, with their heads down and their hats falling off. They were falling right into the Indian camp. Because the white men had no ears and would not listen, Wakantanka the Great Spirit was giving these soldiers to the Indians to be killed.
A photograph of John Gibbon taken in 1864, when he was a brigadier general. Gibbon was reduced to his permanent rank of colonel after the Civil War. He got his Indian name the One Who Limps because of wounds he suffered in the Civil War. [LOC, DIG-cwpb-04455]
A few days later, a hunting party of Cheyenne sighted a column of Bluecoats camped for the night in the valley of the Rosebud River. The hunters rode back to camp, sounding the wolf howl of danger. Three Stars was coming.
An 1876 Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper woodcut showing a portion of General Crook’s army crossing a river the day before it would fight in the Battle of the Rosebud. [LOC, USZ62-74804]
The different chiefs sent criers through their villages and then held hasty councils. It was decided to leave about half the warriors to protect the villages while the others would travel through the night and attack Three Stars and his soldiers the next morning. About a thousand Sioux and Cheyenne formed the war party. A few women went along to help with the spare horses. Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, and Two Moon were among the leaders.
