that he had been right to be revolted. The young woman had done no one any harm.
Had he known who he was shooting at, he realized, he might not have loosed the arrow. It would have been easier then to hide from the truth, because no one would have known, but he would have had an unanswered question eating at him. Such a question, and the uncertainty it bred, could get him killed.
Unknown to Spotted Tail or his people, things were changing fast. The government had appointed a new agent to the Sioux. Thomas S. Twiss was a West Point graduate with white whiskers worthy of a prophet, and a passion to see the Indian troubles resolved quickly and, by his own limited lights, fairly.
At the same time, a new military commander had been appointed by Jefferson Davis, the Secretary of War. William S. Harney was a giant of a man at six feet four inches. A gifted athlete, hewas the fastest man in his command, and was known to challenge all comers, red and white alike, to footraces. On at least one occasion, he had challenged an Indian warrior, who had been convicted of some minor offense, to a race, promising him a hundred-yard lead, and that if the warrior won, Harney would spare him the punishment the warrior had earned by his conduct. The race took place on a frozen lake. At the last minute, Harney gaining with every stride, the wily brave spotted a section of thin ice, veered toward it, and Harney followed. The big man’s greater weight plunged him into the freezing waters. Harney lost the race. And kept his word.
But he was known for his intolerance for nonsense. He didn’t like fancy talk or unnecessary regulation. Given a job, he wanted to do it his way, with no interference from his superiors. More often than not, he got it done.
Now, in the aftermath of the Grattan massacre, he was expected to punish the Sioux. Anxious to avoid bloodshed, Twiss sent out runners, demanding attendance at a council at Fort Laramie. At the same time, the chiefs were advised to move their people south of the Platte River or face the army’s wrath.
Harney assembled a command of seven hundred men at Fort Leavenworth in Kansas and began his march to Fort Laramie, following the Oregon Trail. He intended to inflict heavy damage on any Sioux he encountered along the way. Once at Laramie, Harney planned to turn northeast, and follow the road to Fort Pierre in Dakota Territory.
When Spotted Tail arrived in the vicinity of theBluewater River a little more than a hundred miles from Fort Laramie, he found a village led by Little Thunder, a Brule chief. Little Thunder was widely considered to be a friend of the whites, but he was a powerful and courageous man, and Spotted Tail and his warriors decided to join the group. A large herd of buffalo was nearby, and the warriors managed to bring down huge numbers, enough to provide food for the whole winter.
Curly managed four kills on his own, and his hunting success enabled him to get over the embarrassment of the Omaha raid. Besides, with so much work dressing and drying the meat and preparing the hides, drying and tanning them, there was little time for anyone to tease him. By spring, he hoped, it would all be forgotten.
Most of the work was done by the women, and many of the warriors headed out again to raid along the Oregon Trail. They had not gotten news of Harney’s advance, or the size of his force. Even if they had, the young hotheads, still preening themselves on the success of the Grattan affair, would not have given it a second thought. They were, after all, Sioux warriors, good enough to stand up to anybody, red or white.
Curly was out hunting when a messenger from Agent Twiss reached Little Thunder’s camp. The chief, knowing that there was still much work to be done on the buffalo meat, that the hides still had to be tanned, and that if the work were not done immediately, the food and skins would spoil, was not willing to go.
“Tell the Agent Twiss that I am not unfriendly,” Little
Had he known who he was shooting at, he realized, he might not have loosed the arrow. It would have been easier then to hide from the truth, because no one would have known, but he would have had an unanswered question eating at him. Such a question, and the uncertainty it bred, could get him killed.
Unknown to Spotted Tail or his people, things were changing fast. The government had appointed a new agent to the Sioux. Thomas S. Twiss was a West Point graduate with white whiskers worthy of a prophet, and a passion to see the Indian troubles resolved quickly and, by his own limited lights, fairly.
At the same time, a new military commander had been appointed by Jefferson Davis, the Secretary of War. William S. Harney was a giant of a man at six feet four inches. A gifted athlete, hewas the fastest man in his command, and was known to challenge all comers, red and white alike, to footraces. On at least one occasion, he had challenged an Indian warrior, who had been convicted of some minor offense, to a race, promising him a hundred-yard lead, and that if the warrior won, Harney would spare him the punishment the warrior had earned by his conduct. The race took place on a frozen lake. At the last minute, Harney gaining with every stride, the wily brave spotted a section of thin ice, veered toward it, and Harney followed. The big man’s greater weight plunged him into the freezing waters. Harney lost the race. And kept his word.
But he was known for his intolerance for nonsense. He didn’t like fancy talk or unnecessary regulation. Given a job, he wanted to do it his way, with no interference from his superiors. More often than not, he got it done.
Now, in the aftermath of the Grattan massacre, he was expected to punish the Sioux. Anxious to avoid bloodshed, Twiss sent out runners, demanding attendance at a council at Fort Laramie. At the same time, the chiefs were advised to move their people south of the Platte River or face the army’s wrath.
Harney assembled a command of seven hundred men at Fort Leavenworth in Kansas and began his march to Fort Laramie, following the Oregon Trail. He intended to inflict heavy damage on any Sioux he encountered along the way. Once at Laramie, Harney planned to turn northeast, and follow the road to Fort Pierre in Dakota Territory.
When Spotted Tail arrived in the vicinity of theBluewater River a little more than a hundred miles from Fort Laramie, he found a village led by Little Thunder, a Brule chief. Little Thunder was widely considered to be a friend of the whites, but he was a powerful and courageous man, and Spotted Tail and his warriors decided to join the group. A large herd of buffalo was nearby, and the warriors managed to bring down huge numbers, enough to provide food for the whole winter.
Curly managed four kills on his own, and his hunting success enabled him to get over the embarrassment of the Omaha raid. Besides, with so much work dressing and drying the meat and preparing the hides, drying and tanning them, there was little time for anyone to tease him. By spring, he hoped, it would all be forgotten.
Most of the work was done by the women, and many of the warriors headed out again to raid along the Oregon Trail. They had not gotten news of Harney’s advance, or the size of his force. Even if they had, the young hotheads, still preening themselves on the success of the Grattan affair, would not have given it a second thought. They were, after all, Sioux warriors, good enough to stand up to anybody, red or white.
Curly was out hunting when a messenger from Agent Twiss reached Little Thunder’s camp. The chief, knowing that there was still much work to be done on the buffalo meat, that the hides still had to be tanned, and that if the work were not done immediately, the food and skins would spoil, was not willing to go.
“Tell the Agent Twiss that I am not unfriendly,” Little
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