Thirteen, The Journey of Crazy Horse

The winds howling across the prairies from the lower fork of the Shell River to the Powder River carried the wails of grief for the Sahiyela and Blue Clouds. Soon the hollow sobs of pain turned into angry growls for revenge. The Sahiyela sent messengers north to the Lakota that lamenting the blood spilled at Sand Creek was not enough. In the Moon of Frost in the Lodge, the camps of the Sahiyela and Blue Clouds moved north carrying their righteous anger, gathering more and more the further north they came. Many fighting men from the northern camps of the Lakota rode south to meet them, crossing the frozen Shell and the strangely quiet Holy Road.

Like a snowball rolling down a slope, they grew stronger by the day and gathered north of the south fork of the Shell. To the east was the soldier stockade near the trading post called Julesburg. Fighting men were selected by the various war leaders and sent against the soldier post. Hundreds of men hid themselves in the sagebrush as decoys drew the soldiers out and into the open, but the younger, inexperienced men couldn’t hold themselves back. They rushed past their leaders too soon and the ambush was spoiled, with only a few soldiers killed or wounded. Their misguided zeal took them on to the trading post. Ransacking it, they rode away and tore down the poles that held up the singing wires. But most of the soldiers had retreated into their stockade and watched their attackers taunt them from inside the safety of their walls. The older leaders among the Sahiyela, the Blue Clouds, and a few Lakota with them grumbled their disappointment. It was a victory not worth the dancing.

Crazy Horse heard the grumbling and listened. Once more, the older men said that the whites were not honorable enemies, that to defeat them was not an act of honor but one of necessity. Therefore, the young men must understand that fighting them was not for honor or victory stories, but to wipe them out. For that to happen the young fighting men must understand that victory for the people must come before individual glory.

All whites were the enemy now and that thought was carried with the guns, lances, war clubs, and bows as angry men rode out from the great camp. The Lakota swept to the northeast, the Sahiyela to the northwest, and the Blue Clouds swirled like hornets in between. Way stations, soldier posts, and any travelers along the Holy Road or any trail frequented by whites were the objectives. Young men took the admonitions of their elders to heart as they hardened themselves to mercy and remembered Sand Creek. The spirit of revenge rolled with the thunder from the hooves of warhorses across the frozen prairies. Prominent among the leaders was Spotted Tail, who had returned from the prison at Leavenworth. No one had expected him to return alive from the place where whites punished their enemies and their own lawbreakers. The Oglala had heard that he had returned with a new fear of the whites, but it was not a fearful man that fought with the Sahiyela and Blue Clouds. Once more, he was like the wounded grizzly and fighting men followed him without hesitation.

Crazy Horse joined the second attack on Julesburg. But the whites were reluctant to meet them face-to-face in the open, so there was no fighting to speak of. They left the post ablaze after taking all they could carry from the storehouses.

The combined encampment moved north, reaching the upper Powder River in the Moon of Snowblindness. They had brought with them herds of cattle and horses taken in their raiding. After the initial gathering, and since it was still winter, the people broke into smaller encampments along the river.

Victories in the south and the coming together of the three nations brought a new sense of power not known for years. Horses were traded, marriages were arranged, and the councils of old men made plans to put the new power to good use. The avenging of Sand Creek would never end, some said.

Word came from the Loafers along the Holy Road that the soldier leaders were planning to drive all the nations of the Plains north beyond the Great Muddy. Now that the war over the black-skinned men was over, the whites could turn their attention to other things, the Loafers cautioned—which surely meant that more soldiers would be sent to fight the Lakota and their allies. One called Moonlight was in charge at Laramie, it was said, and he had five hundred new soldiers. Let them come, said many young men. Let them come.

Winter slid into spring. There was some excitement because the Crow could not pass up the opportunity to help themselves to some of the captured horses in the camps along the Powder. Most of them were not successful. In the Moon When Horses Lose Their Hair, the camps came together once more to make the warrior ceremonials before the planned attacks for the summer were carried out. Crazy Horse hung back in the shadows watching with great interest, listening with great amusement to Little Hawk’s excited descriptions of the goings-on.

The old men had decided that the soldier settlement at the Shell River bridge crossing should be attacked and the soldiers - driven out. Crazy Horse was picked as one of the scouts to ride south to watch the settlement. Soldiers had already crossed and were well on their way to the Wind River, guarding a line of wagons. The scouts attacked just to harass them and managed to take several horses before they broke off. A spring snowstorm stopped them when the soldiers couldn’t, so they returned north with their captured horses.

Messengers came from the Loafers at Laramie. Two old Lakota who were friendly to the whites had been hanged after returning a captive white woman. The one called Moonlight had ordered it. One of the men was old Two Face, and Crazy Horse remembered the warm welcome in his camp along the Shell. He had been for good relations with the whites. Now he was dead. The two bodies were left hanging until they had rotted and fallen from the tree in pieces, the messengers said. Now the soldiers were sending all the Loafers to a place called Fort Kearny, because the whites at Fort Laramie couldn’t trust them not to exact revenge. The soldiers led by one called Fouts had already taken to the trail, driving the Loafers like cattle.

Fighting men were quick to respond and a plan was made for a rescue. High Back Bone, along with Crazy Horse and several others, rode south. Several young men had ridden ahead and caught up to the captives, and, at night, they sneaked in to mingle with their friends and relatives, waiting for the attack they knew was coming so they could fight from inside and confuse the soldiers.

On the opposite shore, past the point where Horse Creek flowed into the Shell, a camp was made for the night, with soldiers posted around the ragged lodges of the Loafers. The next morning when the soldiers were ready to move on again, the women had not yet taken down the lodges. Angry and impatient, Fouts himself charged over to shout orders. The waiting warriors who had sneaked in opened fire, killing the soldier. A few others with him whipped their horses to get away, and all around the warriors waiting under cover opened fire. High Back Bone, Crazy Horse, He Dog, Spotted Tail, and even Red Cloud himself, among many others, broke from cover and attacked.

For a time, there was utter confusion. The young men who had sneaked into the camp helped the women and children back across the river while the mounted warriors engaged the soldiers to enable the crossing. The soldiers could do nothing but defend themselves and watch their former captives scatter into the hills to the north. In frustration, they set fire to the lodges still standing and killed a crippled old man who had been left behind.

The warriors took the people north and then east to the sand hills, scattering into several small groups to confuse any pursuers. Moonlight and his column did come and stopped where several trails crossed. After the soldiers unsaddled their horses to rest them, Crazy Horse and a few young men swept in and ran them off. Instead of trailing the horses, Moonlight positioned his men to form a protective circle around himself. Crazy Horse led the young men and their new herd away. Clearly, this enemy was not worth the effort to kill him. Later, they watched from hilltops as the soldiers walked back toward Fort Laramie carrying saddles.

On the way back to the Powder River country, the former captives had stories to tell. Fouts’s soldiers had tied boys to wagon wheels to watch them turn helplessly as the wagons rolled. Small children were thrown into the Shell still running high from the spring snowmelt. And some of the young girls had been dragged into the soldiers’ tents at night. If a man’s heart - didn’t turn cold toward the whites after hearing such things, then he didn’t have one, was the sentiment among the rescuers. And one opinion they spoke low and among themselves. Perhaps some lessons had been learned about being friendly to the whites.

Word spread like wildfire that the Lakota were on a killing rampage. Whites living in strange little sod houses built into hill-sides, or in log houses here and there along creek bottoms, sought safety at Fort Laramie and the various outposts along the Shell. But the old men leaders kept to their plan to attack the soldier post north of Elk Mountain. As the days rolled into the Moon of Ripening Berries and then the Moon When the Sun Stands in the Middle, they waited in the camps along the Powder grazing the horses and letting them grow strong.

The Lakota had their Sun Dance and the Sahiyela did their Medicine Lodge ceremonies, and ancient warrior rituals were invoked to give strength to the fighting men. Crazy Horse was given a stone dreamer medicine—a small pebble to tie into the tail of his warhorse—from his friend Chips. Scouts returned with news of more soldiers gathering at the bridge on the Shell, and the old men sent the fighting men south, like the sudden storm turns loose the hailstones.

The Gathering of Warriors was done as hundreds of men circled the great camp. At the head of the Sahiyelas rode their great fighters Big Nose and High Back Wolf, while the Lakota were led by Red Cloud, Big Road, and High Back Bone. Ahead of them all rode the old men pipe carriers.

As the scouts had reported, the settlement at the river crossing had grown with straight rows of canvas tents and corrals full of horses and mules. The leaders decided to lure the soldiers into an ambush. Crazy Horse was one of twenty Lakota and Sahiyela picked as decoys. The main body of fighting men hid themselves in the broken hills to wait.

Crazy Horse and three others went ahead, while the other decoys waited back. The four rode for the horses and mules, drawing out a column of soldiers from across the river pulling a wagon gun. The decoys fired on them and withdrew slowly, staying just within rifle range, knowing their constant movement would make them hard targets. Far past the bridge, the soldiers stopped and fired several rounds from the wagon guns, the blast of the big gun echoing through the hills.

Hearing the wagon guns, many of the young men waiting in ambush rode to the tops of the hills before the signal to attack was given, and were spotted by the soldiers who immediately withdrew back across the bridge. Another ambush had been spoiled by youthful impatience. Crazy Horse was angry but could do nothing. The remaining decoys joined him, and they decided to go after the horses and mules on their side of the river.

The leaders decided to disengage for this day and make new plans for the next, and sent High Back Wolf to bring the decoys back. The decoys were already scattering horses and engaged in an intense exchange of gunfire with the soldiers. High Back Wolf rode into the river to join some of the decoys charging directly at the soldier settlement. A concentrated volley from the soldiers knocked the great Sahiyela fighter from his horse. The rest of the decoys disengaged thereafter, returning to face the stern words of the leaders and deliver the sad news to Blind Wolf, the father of High Back Wolf.

Crazy Horse knew that all of the decoys should have broken off after the ambush had been spoiled, but the heat of the moment was hard to turn away from. Such an excuse was of no use to Blind Wolf. Before dawn, Crazy Horse and several Sahiyelas took the old man to the river to recover his son’s body.

After sunrise, Crazy Horse rejoined the decoys. Ambushers were hidden south below the bridge, and a large group of Sahiyelas waited in the hills to the west. To Crazy Horse’s surprise, the mounted soldiers rode out once more when he thought they would be more cautious. Instead of chasing the decoys, the soldiers stayed on the Holy Road once they crossed the bridge. The ambushers below the bridge waited for a signal, then circled the soldiers from behind, and the battle was joined. Foot soldiers then came running over the bridge with a wagon gun, took up a skirmish line to open rifle fire, and then began firing the wagon gun.

Crazy Horse joined the main body of Lakota warriors and saw that some of the mounted soldiers had been cut down. Then the firing abated as a few Lakota recognized the soldier leader who was trying hard to control his horse. He was the one called Collins, who had hunted with some of them in the north. By now his soldiers were close to the hills where the Sahiyelas waited, anxious to avenge High Back Wolf. Seeing them charge, Collins ordered a retreat. As his soldiers turned back for the bridge, he stayed back alone to protect the rear. Meanwhile, the foot soldiers were sending shells from the wagon gun into the midst of the Lakota.

Some of the Lakota held their fire, Crazy Horse among them, as Collins faced the charging Sahiyela while trying to control his frightened horse. Wild with fear, the horse took him directly into the oncoming Sahiyelas, who cut him down quickly.

The Lakota had to turn their attention to the fire coming from the foot soldiers as they lowered the aim of their wagon gun and sent warriors scurrying away from its exploding shells. So most of the mounted soldiers were able to gain the safety of the bridge as the foot soldiers also withdrew back across the bridge.

Many of the Lakota and Sahiyela leaders were angry that the soldiers had been able to escape though outnumbered. The fighting had evolved into the two sides sniping at each other from long range, and neither was gaining any advantage. Crazy Horse rode into the hills to rest his horse and found a large group of Lakota watching a cloud of smoke to the south along the Holy Road. A large group of the Sahiyela had broken off in that direction, he had noticed earlier, so he rode to see for himself what might have happened.

He was close enough to smell the smoke when he met a number of Sahiyela leading mules and packhorses. They had found five wagons, the men told him, and soldiers already dug in for a fight. The warriors had run off a herd of mules, then attacked the circled wagons. Big Nose sent men in on foot to draw fire while the mounted warriors charged. It was a hard fight, they said, but they had killed all but two or three soldiers and took all of their supplies.

During the next few days, he sat on the fringes as old men talked about the fight near the bridge. They had not succeeded in wiping out the soldiers because a few impetuous young men - couldn’t hold themselves back for the right moment. It was a problem that had to be corrected if they were to defeat the whites, they all agreed. And one way to solve the problem was to find strong young men to lead the others. For that, they said, perhaps they should renew the tradition of the Shirt Wearers.

Some people scoffed at such talk. No Shirt Wearers had been selected for a generation because the purpose behind the tradition had been forgotten. A Shirt Wearer was to be a young man of strong action and good ways, one to set the example for others. Instead, the tradition had become the father choosing his son to wear the Shirt next. Better to let it be, some said, instead of dishonoring a good thing again.

After the fight against the soldiers at the bridge, the great gathering began to break up slowly; a few of the Blue Clouds and Sahiyelas returned to their own country. Crazy Horse and Little Hawk returned home to news of a large column of soldiers heading north led by a man named Connor who was promising to punish the Lakota for the soldiers killed at the Shell River crossing and those killed at the wagon fight. Preparations were made and scouts sent to watch the column of angry and vengeful whites. Warriors picked a good spot for an ambush and waited but were surprised when the soldiers turned aside and attacked a small encampment of Blue Clouds along the Tongue. The Lakota rushed in to help and recovered many of the horses run off by the soldiers. Instead of engaging the Lakota, the soldiers hurried away to the north and crossed over the Wolf Mountains. Perhaps they were not so angry after all, some young men said. But another column appeared.

When the Lakota and Sahiyela found them they were hiding behind their circled wagons along the Powder, not very anxious to fight, it seemed. The warriors surrounded the wagons and watched them for days. Finally, two whites walked from the wagons to talk with the Lakota leader, Red Cloud, and Dull Knife, who was leading the Sahiyela. For a wagonload of provisions, the soldiers would be allowed to leave, it was decided. So they went south toward the Shell, not knowing that the Lakota and Sahiyela didn’t have much powder and shells for a long fight.

On the heels of their leaving, yet another column was found, this time further north, close to where the Powder empties into the Elk River. The Mniconju had been fighting them, helped by a sudden strange turn in the weather. Though it was early in the Moon of Leaves Turning Brown, a rainstorm had turned to ice, killing the big Long Knife horses. So there were many soldiers, the biggest column yet this summer, with many wagons and not enough horses to pull them all. They came up the Powder anyway. So the Lakota and Sahiyela, still low on powder and ammunition, went out to meet them.

The best the Lakota and Sahiyela could do was make the soldiers use up their ammunition, so they charged up close. Once more, the Sahiyela Big Nose showed his strong medicine by riding back and forth in front of the soldiers until his horse was shot. Strangely, however, the soldiers were reluctant to come out and fight. Someone’s medicine seemed to be on the side of the warriors. Another cold, hard rain came and killed most of the remaining wagon horses of the Long Knives.

The warriors stayed close, harassing the soldiers, sometimes charging in to send a few arrows. Crazy Horse, Lone Bear, He Dog, and Little Hawk did this often, keeping the soldiers pinned behind their wagons. If the warriors were hampered by the lack of powder and bullets, the soldiers had a more serious predicament. They had no food and began eating their dead horses. Finally, after piling all their goods from the wagons they couldn’t carry or burn, the soldiers walked away and the warriors let them go. They followed them over a few hills just to remind them to keep walking, but the soldiers seemed to be in no condition to turn back and fight, some stumbling and dropping their rifles. Crazy Horse picked one up, a back-loader that fired a very large bullet; a man didn’t have to pour powder down into the barrel first.

A new rifle seemed to be the beginning of things that suddenly turned in his life. Deep into the Moon When Leaves Fall, he rode up into the foothills of the Shining Mountains to ponder all that had transpired, especially in the days that had just passed.

The strange incursion of the soldier columns that didn’t seem to want to fight seemed long ago. Yet the news of the death of Yellow Woman felt as though it had come only the day before. Little Hawk was growing into a daring fighter, already winning several war honors. But the most perplexing and heavy change was symbolized in a shirt made from the hide of a bighorn sheep, now rolled in a decorated case and waiting in his parents’ lodge. Also waiting were the duties and responsibilities that came with it.

The old man leaders had indeed decided to revive the old tradition of the Shirt Wearers. And as expected, the shirts were given to young men of important families. The choice of Young Man Whose Enemies Are Afraid of His Horses, Sword, or Long Knife Horse (aka American Horse) surprised no one. But when the name of Crazy Horse was announced, a gasp went through the gathered crowd, and the shouts, the whoops, and the trilling that followed were the loudest of all. He felt truly honored and yet was uncertain that he was a good choice. Later, two more Shirt Wearers were chosen and he was pleased that his friend He Dog was one. The other was Big Road, a good, strong, and honorable man.

“To wear the shirts you must be men above all others,” said an old man chosen to speak. “You must help others before you think of yourselves. Help the widows and those who have little to wear and to eat and have no one to help them or speak for them. Do not look down on others or see those who look down on you, and do not let anger guide your mind or your heart. Be generous, be wise, and show fortitude so that the people can follow what you do and then what you say. Above all, have courage and be the first to charge the enemy, for it is better to lie a warrior naked in death than to be wrapped up well with a heart of water inside.”

Crazy Horse’s vision had told him he would be a fighting man, and, thus far, he had honored that foretelling, and would do so for as long as he could. But the vision had shown nothing about shouldering the cares and the welfare of others. Even in the best of times, it was difficult to do the right things for oneself; now he must do the right things to show others how it must be done. Perhaps that was why the Thunders were in his vision, his father and others had suggested. His would be a life of sacrifice, to live it for the good of others when all he wanted was to walk his own road. As his father had said during a quiet evening after the making of the Shirt Wearers, such a man does not belong to himself; he belongs to the people.

Something else was new also. His enemies, until now, had been the Crow and the Snakes. Now he could also count the relatives of Red Cloud among them. Everyone thought that Red Cloud himself, or certainly one of his relatives, would be chosen. After the ceremony, they had moved their lodges, and one of those riding away with a backward scowl at the son of Worm was Woman’s Dress, known as the Pretty One when he was a boy. Crazy Horse knew that an enemy from within was the most dangerous of all.

As he sat on a slope looking over the rough, broken lands of the Powder River country, he pondered all that had happened, and then smoked his pipe and prayed for the strength to follow the path that had chosen him.

The makers of the Winter Count had chosen to call this year the Winter When the Men Were Hanging at the Soldier Fort. An early snow came before all the berries were picked, a sign that did not escape the notice of the old ones. Things would happen backwards, they warned.

A messenger came from the north, from among the Hunkpapa Lakota. He was of the camp of Sitting Bull. Soldiers were running around everywhere, he said. And at the same time a man was traveling up the Great Muddy with a peace paper from the “great father.” First they send the soldiers, then they send the peace talkers. If they can’t kill us, perhaps they will try to harangue us to death, some suggested.

But in spite of the laughing, everyone knew that sometimes the peace talkers were more dangerous than the soldiers. The Hunkpapa visitor said that already some Loafers along the Great Muddy had signed the paper that said they gave permission for the whites to make roads through Lakota lands. Perhaps I should sign a paper to give away my brother-in-law’s lodge, said one man. The laughter was a little bitter this time, for everyone knew what the man meant. Who among the people had the power to sign a paper that bound everyone? It was not the Lakota way, but the mark of one Lakota by his name was taken as agreement or permission given by all Lakota, as the whites saw it. So no one among the Oglala would expect to see the peace talker visit their camps soon. The Loafers were easier to persuade, already liking and needing the things of the whites as they did.

Perhaps the early snowfall had been a sign, some thought. Early in the Moon of Frost in the Lodge, when the new cycle of moons began, came news that brought a narrowing to the eyes of old men: Swift Bear of the Sicangu had signed the peace paper giving permission for the whites to make a road and build forts in the Powder River country.