Indian council—On the warpath—Waiting—Victory celebration
The spring and summer of her fifth year in captivity passed in unending movement that further deteriorated Anne’s health. Nevertheless she did her utmost to survive and protect Solace and her unborn child. Although her belly was still flat she knew the signs—a tickling weight in her womb like that of a tendril pushing through soil deep, the tenderness and dark swell of breast, the muzziness of mind. Neha knew almost before she did, claiming that an expectant woman smelled differently.
* * *
THE INDIANS WERE CONTENTIOUS after a series of routs by the army and stories of massacres of whole camps both on the reservation and off. It kept them distrustful. When Anne broached the subject of her being traded for ransom to enrich the tribe, she was roughly told off. The Cheyenne had learned how duplicitous the whites acted.
Through the gossip of the women, Anne was learning of a world that was the inverse of the one she had previously understood.
The Sand Creek Massacre was long past but the memory of its treachery stayed fresh within the tribe. At the homestead, Anne had never heard mention of it before, but perhaps it had been kept from the children. Chief Black Kettle had been pledged safety for his people by Tall Chief Wynkoop. He had been told that if soldiers ever approached, mistaking them for hostiles, to hang the American flag and stand beside it, because it was strong medicine and would keep them safe.
But Wynkoop’s defense of the Indians made him unpopular with the military, and he was replaced by a man they called the red-eyed soldier chief. The Indians did not trust him, with good reason. He was only pacifying Black Kettle while waiting for a large force of soldiers led by a devil named Chivington. Soon a force was gathered to go after the camp. Wynkoop’s remaining allies protested that such action would dishonor the uniform of the army. They were threatened with court-martial.
When the soldiers approached the camp at dawn, there stood Chief Black Kettle in front of his teepee, his American flag blowing in the wintry wind.
Black Kettle was no fool. He understood the white man was seldom good on his word, but he reasoned appeasement was his tribe’s only chance at survival.
The soldiers opened fire on six hundred Indians, mostly women and children, as the warriors were off hunting. Still Black Kettle yelled to his people to stand under the flag. Old men, women, and children huddled in a circle as White Antelope ran up a white surrender flag for good measure in case the army did not understand the American flag meant protection. Regardless, they were murdered.
A small number of Indians, including Black Kettle, managed to escape and tell of what happened. Later some of the soldiers there told the same story. The scene had been a chaotic one, a total lack of discipline combined with heavy drinking of whiskey. Forty or more women hid in a ravine to avoid gunfire. Offering no resistance, they sent out a small girl of six holding a white flag on a stick to show they were peaceful. The soldiers shot and killed the child after a few steps. One of the soldiers reported seeing a woman with child cut open by other soldiers. After killing them, the soldiers systematically scalped or otherwise mutilated every body.
After the shooting ended, 105 Indian women and children lay dead; 28 Indian men were killed. Chivington had lost only nine soldiers, mostly due to reckless firing by his own men. Shaken, the Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes gave up their claims to the Colorado Territory. This had been the goal.
Recently, Long Hair/General Custer had gone after Black Kettle’s camp again while it was in Indian Territory, on its own assigned reservation. Black Kettle, the strongest advocate of peace with the white man, had been betrayed and killed. The white man’s word was deemed worthless.
Anne did not know what to make of such stories, but she saw the attitude toward her harden after the Washita Massacre. Members of the tribe who already resented her, if possible increased their hostility to her. Others understood that she was only a girl and could not be blamed for the sins of her people. It seemed to Anne that all the world had gone mad, she did not know who to trust, and it pained her to bring an innocent into such a world.
“Some want to do away with you to stamp out your seed,” Unci said. “I tell them no. Even if you are killed, the white seed will spread everywhere.”
* * *
THE BUFFALO HERDS had shrunk dramatically, and wherever one could be found the Indians invariably found the army and settlers also.
An Indian scout came into camp for the hunt. His name was Golden Buffalo, and he was rumored to be in the service of Long Hair. Anne tried to catch Golden Buffalo’s eye with the idea that he might report her presence to Custer, but if he did notice her he gave no indication.
* * *
DURING THE PERIOD of the councils, groups would arrive from the wilderness with their own captives in tow. At these meetings, chiefs from other camps noticed Anne and gave offers of goods in barter, but Snake Man was loath to part with her. Some warriors thought she, being white, should be put to death to avenge their losses, but cooler heads argued that she was innocent, besides valuable to the tribe for her dexterous fingers, which sewed such beautiful items.
In this way Anne met a tall woman who had been abducted the previous year in Kansas. She was a doctor’s daughter and a barrister’s bride. She had known only the most protected life and had no idea of how to survive. Her dress was filthy. Anne helped rid her hair of the lice that were driving her mad. The women became friendly, Anne even offering to make her a dress, until the woman’s chief noticed the two together and accused them of conspiring.
He dragged the woman by the arm back to his teepee and there tied her to a stake in the ground with a length of rawhide. She was denied food. Anne passed her regularly on errands and feared this new friend might perish from her unjust punishment. Unable to stand it any longer, when Anne next passed she surreptitiously threw a bit of seed cake into her lap while passing, which the woman stuffed in her mouth, not daring to chew but letting it dissolve down her throat. A few hours later Anne risked stealing pemmican out of her master’s parfleche, although she knew the punishment would be severe.
The next day Anne again passed by but found the teepee empty, the stake bare. She feared the worst. While she sat on the riverbank doing her sewing, she was surprised when the woman approached her, this time in the company of a new master. This man appeared kind and much pleased with his new trade. The woman had fetched a low price because she was accused of fomenting trouble. She handed Anne a kerchief of boiled venison and berries in thanks. She said she now had all the food she needed and was gaining strength hourly. She prayed her new chief would ransom her back to her husband.
Anne nodded with enthusiasm, knowing that hope, however unfounded, was the only grace available.
The day after, the chief left the council. Anne was never to see the tall woman again or know her fate. Her name was Dorotha.
* * *
THEY HAD REACHED the decision to make war on the whites. All rejected the idea of going to the reservation, to certain slow death. The women and children were sent to a place of safety to wait.
Anne was worked mercilessly, packing and carrying the teepee’s belongings. When she was caught napping in exhaustion, the oldest wives kicked her, sometimes in the stomach, little valuing a captive’s pregnancy although they would not dare such behavior in front of their Snake Man. This abuse worried Anne for her unborn’s sake.
She had endured the same abuse while carrying Solace, but she had been a different being back then, meek and afraid. Now she grabbed a branch from the cooking area whose endfire was coaled red. She poked the cruelest one’s cheek with it, scarring her.
After that they left her in peace.
Neha was quiet when they were next alone.
“Do you fault me?” Anne finally asked.
“I fault myself for not coming to your aid.”
“I had to win this battle myself. But your words please me.”
Anne had learned that the Indians valued bravery and courage as Christians did meekness and charity, which they viewed as weakness. She resolved to change to the Indian way.
Once news of her defense spread within the tribe, her status rose greatly.
Still, she remained outcast but for a few exceptions. When Neha was busy, Anne would take the meager dinner either begged or earned from her sewing and go to sit with her babe, Solace, to watch the night sky alone. When the moon rose she reminded herself that it also shone down on her old home, on her friends and loved ones. She tried to convince herself that civilization did somehow still exist beyond the vastness of the wilderness in which she languished, even though from all appearances the wilds seemed to have swallowed the rest of the world whole.
* * *
WHEN THE WARRIORS came back in victory there was great rejoicing. The women said witnessing the celebrations would make the warrior inside Anne’s belly grow brave. She could not guess how they knew she was with child, much less its gender. Forced to sit and witness these festivities, she had nightmares then and for years afterward.
Macabre dances were performed around the fire, especially the scalp dance, which featured a pole with all the grisly scalps flaunted, as well as the hands and feet of the victims. The warriors would make faces and utter war cries that caused Anne’s blood to chill. They pantomimed their actions during the attack, most terrifyingly reenacting the death throes of their victims. At times their features seemed to mold to their victims’ expressions so vividly, she imagined she recognized some of the people thus recently murdered.