Read Online Joseph M. Marshall III by The Journey of Crazy Horse a Lakota History - Free Book Online
Tags: United States, General, Social Science, History, Biography & Autobiography, Biography, Native American Studies, State & Local, Native Americans, Native American, Ethnic Studies, Cultural Heritage, Kings and rulers, West (AK; CA; CO; HI; ID; MT; NV; UT; WY), Government relations, Wars, Oglala Indians, Little Bighorn; Battle of The; Mont.; 1876
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So beneath dark, angry scowls dozens and dozens of warriors watched the line of plodding wagons, keeping their hands on their weapons. The white men and their bullets they could confront, but the sicknesses that caused strong men to take to their deathbeds in a matter of days was another matter. So, for the most part, the wagons and their occupants plodded along unmolested, not because of words on a paper or the power of a “great father” but because of the fear of sickness.
Fort Laramie and the Holy Road were part of Lakota life—bothersome realities that left wise old people scratching their heads and wondering how that had come to be. Perhaps when the people in the wagons had all arrived someplace in the west there would be no more Holy Road. No more Holy Road and no more need for Fort Laramie. It was a fool’s hope, some said. The whites won’t go away of their own accord. It was a fearful thought Lone Bear and Light Hair heard many old men utter, as if they had tasted spoiled annuity meat. In time they would see firsthand how prophetic those fears were.
Three years after the Council at Horse Creek, during Light Hair’s fourteenth year, Fort Laramie remained, and more wagons crept along the Holy Road each year from late spring until summer. The fort was busier than ever as more whites bustled about. Many Lakota couldn’t ignore the annuities distributed by the whites and so they came to wait, though they were still fearful of the whites’ sicknesses. The more cautious kept their encampments half a day’s ride from the fort, the Hunkpatila among them. Some Lakota, however, pitched their lodges within bow shot of the fort, their sense of caution pushed by curiosity and a desire for white-man things. In time those careless ones would come to be known as Loaf About the Forts, or Loafers.
Red Cloud and Smoke were said to be somewhere, a sure sign that the Long Knives would be pressed over some significant concerns. Smoke was the head of an influential family, the source of many Lakota leaders in time of war and peace. Red Cloud, in spite of being part of a feud that had resulted in the death of a young Lakota, was building a reputation as a fine orator, one who was not afraid to speak his mind about the whites. And there were several concerns for Smoke and Red Cloud to drop at the feet of the whites. More dead animal carcasses were left to rot each summer along the Holy Road, more graves were left as well, and discarded possessions were scattered along the trail. The biggest worry of all was that the buffalo stayed further and further from the trail, both to the north and south.
But there was a new problem. The annuities were late and some of the Lakota who had grown to depend on the annuity cattle for meat instead of hunting were becoming nervous. Others scoffed at the foolishness of depending on the white man to feed their families, but, sadly, the white man and his annuities were like the thorn buried deep in the foot. It couldn’t be removed without some blood flowing.
Each summer’s lines and lines of wagons were not the same as those that had come the summer before. They carried a different group of whites who had never seen a Lakota or a Kiowa or a Blue Cloud, but who had been filled with stories about the dangers from brown-skinned marauders. So, wide-eyed and fearful were the whites who arrived at the fort—not comforted by the sight of scores of scowling Lakota men.
But the Lakota were likewise troubled at the sight of so many white men. Some of the old ones would shake their gray heads and speak a warning. In any land among any kind of people, three human weaknesses are at the root of trouble—fear, anger, and arrogance.
Those weaknesses were about to be mixed.
Six
Life has a way of creating strange circumstances that often lead to a bad end, or an unexpected turn. Several Lakota camps were in the vicinity of the fort in the Moon of Dark Calves, idling away the hot months waiting for the
Fort Laramie and the Holy Road were part of Lakota life—bothersome realities that left wise old people scratching their heads and wondering how that had come to be. Perhaps when the people in the wagons had all arrived someplace in the west there would be no more Holy Road. No more Holy Road and no more need for Fort Laramie. It was a fool’s hope, some said. The whites won’t go away of their own accord. It was a fearful thought Lone Bear and Light Hair heard many old men utter, as if they had tasted spoiled annuity meat. In time they would see firsthand how prophetic those fears were.
Three years after the Council at Horse Creek, during Light Hair’s fourteenth year, Fort Laramie remained, and more wagons crept along the Holy Road each year from late spring until summer. The fort was busier than ever as more whites bustled about. Many Lakota couldn’t ignore the annuities distributed by the whites and so they came to wait, though they were still fearful of the whites’ sicknesses. The more cautious kept their encampments half a day’s ride from the fort, the Hunkpatila among them. Some Lakota, however, pitched their lodges within bow shot of the fort, their sense of caution pushed by curiosity and a desire for white-man things. In time those careless ones would come to be known as Loaf About the Forts, or Loafers.
Red Cloud and Smoke were said to be somewhere, a sure sign that the Long Knives would be pressed over some significant concerns. Smoke was the head of an influential family, the source of many Lakota leaders in time of war and peace. Red Cloud, in spite of being part of a feud that had resulted in the death of a young Lakota, was building a reputation as a fine orator, one who was not afraid to speak his mind about the whites. And there were several concerns for Smoke and Red Cloud to drop at the feet of the whites. More dead animal carcasses were left to rot each summer along the Holy Road, more graves were left as well, and discarded possessions were scattered along the trail. The biggest worry of all was that the buffalo stayed further and further from the trail, both to the north and south.
But there was a new problem. The annuities were late and some of the Lakota who had grown to depend on the annuity cattle for meat instead of hunting were becoming nervous. Others scoffed at the foolishness of depending on the white man to feed their families, but, sadly, the white man and his annuities were like the thorn buried deep in the foot. It couldn’t be removed without some blood flowing.
Each summer’s lines and lines of wagons were not the same as those that had come the summer before. They carried a different group of whites who had never seen a Lakota or a Kiowa or a Blue Cloud, but who had been filled with stories about the dangers from brown-skinned marauders. So, wide-eyed and fearful were the whites who arrived at the fort—not comforted by the sight of scores of scowling Lakota men.
But the Lakota were likewise troubled at the sight of so many white men. Some of the old ones would shake their gray heads and speak a warning. In any land among any kind of people, three human weaknesses are at the root of trouble—fear, anger, and arrogance.
Those weaknesses were about to be mixed.
Six
Life has a way of creating strange circumstances that often lead to a bad end, or an unexpected turn. Several Lakota camps were in the vicinity of the fort in the Moon of Dark Calves, idling away the hot months waiting for the
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