ABACUS (11 page)

Chapter 16: The Sacred Hills

AP kept a daily calendar on his piece of paper. Talking Cloud would have been amused had he known because his people measured time in seasons, not days. The Sioux led a simple life, and having been with them for almost a week, Kate and AP had slipped into their familiar routine. Then one morning, without warning, everything changed.

“What's going on?” asked Kate as one after another tipi was dismantled.

“I've no idea,” replied AP. “It looks like the whole village is packing up.”

Taking down tipis involved only the women, and the men had little to do. Most of them just stood around chatting. Talking Cloud was sharpening a knife on a stone, so AP went over to ask what was happening.

“Time to pack up and go. Buffalo move, so we must follow.”

Kate and AP asked Sings To Her Children if they could help. The old woman smiled, shaking her head. She and her sister could manage—they were used to it.

“The tipi belongs to the wife,” Sings To Her Children explained, “so she does everything.”

They'd already removed the buffalo-hide cover, leaving the framework of wooden poles still standing

“See the ring of stones that were used to hold down the cover?” said AP, pointing at the ground.

Kate nodded absentmindedly.

“It's called a tipi ring and shows where a tipi once stood.”

After spreading the semicircular tipi cover out on the ground, the two sisters started folding it up. The result was a heavy bundle the size of a refrigerator.

“That's made of twelve buffalo hides, sewn together with sinews,” said AP.

“They only last about two years. No wonder they need so many buffalo.”

Kate stared blankly.

Now the old women worked their way around the poles, lifting them off one by one. Three poles were left standing, firmly roped together at the crossover point.

“How are they going to handle them?” asked Kate. “We should help.” But the women lowered them to the ground with ease.

Using strips of buffalo hide, they tied the poles into two bundles. Then they lashed the end of each bundle to the side of a horse, leaving the other end free to drag along the ground.

“That's pretty basic,” commented AP.

“And how would you do it?”

“I'd load them onto a wagon.”

“That's okay if you've got wheels,” she said “but they don't.”

AP nodded sheepishly.

Two more horses were needed to carry the tipi cover and all their other belongings. Each had a V-shaped trailer for the job.

“That's called a travois,” said AP. “It's a pair of poles tied together at the front and joined together half way down by that narrow platform. See how it's attached to one side of the horse?”

“Yeah,” she replied dutifully.

When everyone was ready, the band moved off. Many rode on horseback or hitched rides on the travois, but others walked. Mothers transported their babies in a carrier strapped to their backs or secured to a travois. Most toddlers rode piggyback, but others preferred bouncing along on a travois or sitting wedged in the saddle with an adult. Dogs—some pulling tiny travois—trotted everywhere.

Kate and AP rode horses. “You both need more practice,” Talking Cloud told them as he showed them how to harness the horses and saddle up.

The band moved at the speed of the slowest walkers, so progress was modest. “That suits me fine,” AP confided to Kate. “I'm still sore from yesterday's ride.”

After trotting alone together for an hour, Kate and AP were joined by Talking Cloud and his brother. AP thought this an ideal opportunity to enquire about Custer. As soon as he mentioned the name, he got a reaction.

“Long Hair,” said Talking Cloud in a flat voice. “Long Hair Custer.”

His brother repeated the name and spat on the ground.

They rode on in silence and AP wished he'd never said anything.

After some time, Talking Cloud began to speak.

“Young Man Who Sits Too Much, I must tell you about Paha Sapa and what has happened these last two summers and winters. This story is long, but we have far to go. Talking helps pass the time.”

He began by explaining how Paha Sapa—the Black Hills of South Dakota—was the Indians' most sacred land. “It is a place of ghosts and sprits. A place where we can speak with Wakan Tanka. Few Wasichus have ever been there. They are not welcome.”

He paused.

“White men went there, looking for yellow metal. Some found it and told others.”

“And some never lived long enough to tell,” added his brother gleefully.

“The Great Father in Washington was short of yellow metal. So, two summers ago, he sent Long Hair and his cavalry to Paha Sapa, to see if the stories were true.

“Long Hair found what he was looking for and told every Wasichu. They swarmed there like ants, tearing up our cherished land.”

“But weren't white people supposed to stay away from that area?” asked AP.

“They made a treaty with us eight summers ago. Paha Sapa was ours—until the end of time.”

“Another one of their broken treaties!” snorted Sleeps A Lot.

“Didn't anyone complain?” asked Kate.

“Some important Wasichus protested,” said Talking Cloud.

“So what did the government do about it?” she continued.

“What it always does: it sent a commission—a gang of politicians and soldiers—to make a deal. The commission knew they had to include free Indians as well as Agency Indians in the talks—otherwise the deal wouldn't work. So they sent word to Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse.”

Kate repeated the two names.

“Sitting Bull is leader of the Hunkpapa Sioux. Crazy Horse leads our tribe, the Oglala Sioux. Both refused to attend.”

“So what happened?” asked AP.

“Most of their people still went along, together with our friends the Cheyenne and Arapaho. We have never seen such a gathering of the Sioux Nation.”

“Did they make a deal?” asked Kate.

“They argued a lot. Not only did the Wasichus want to buy our sacred hills, they also wanted to buy this land, our last hunting ground.” He swept his arm across the horizon. “Tempers flared. Some of the warri
ors started jostling the soldiers.”

“A great battle was about to begin!” yelled Sleeps A Lot.

“But calmer heads won the day,” continued his brother.

“More meetings took place, but no agreement was reached. So the government decided how much we should be paid, even though we refused to sell our land, and they let the Wasichus flood into Paha Sapa.”

“Tell them about last winter,” said Sleeps A Lot.

“The Great Father blamed the free Indians for the commission's failure. He met with his army general, and they decided that every free Indian must move to a reservation by the end of January. If they didn't, the Army would attack. But the order wasn't sent out until the Wasichus feast of Christmas. By then the snow was deep, and it took many weeks for messengers just to reach our people. How could they possibly break up their winter camps and get to the reservations in time?”

“They knew it was impossible,” snorted his brother. “They just wanted an excuse for war.”

Agency Indians are allowed to leave the reservation to go hunting, and one such band set off into the snow, led by Two Moons. They found plenty of game. With meat in their bellies, they slept soundly. Then, one night, soldiers charged into the camp, firing into tipis and killing people in their beds. Women, clutching infants, ran barefoot through the snow.”

“That's terrible,” cried Kate. “Those poor people.”

“Then soldiers burned the tipis and drove away the horses.”

“Did anyone survive?” asked AP.

“Many did. Two Moons led them to Crazy Horse's winter camp on the Powder River.”

“Imagine attacking people when they're asleep,” protested Kate.

“They've done it many times before.”

“Sand Creek,” hissed Sleeps A Lot.

Talking Cloud let out an anguished cry. “Sand Creek.”

Kate and AP expected another terrible story, but he remained silent. After several minutes AP asked him what had happened.

“Some things are better left unspoken.” The only thing he would say was that Sand Creek made the Two Moons massacre seem insignificant.

The open plain provided an opportune diversion from the long silence that followed.

“Look over there, Young Man Who Sits Too Much.” Talking Cloud stopped his horse and pointed into the distance. “What do you see?”

“Nothing really—a few bushes, a lone tree.”

“How about you, Gold Butterfly Woman?”

Kate stared hard, but saw nothing either.

“You see no hawk sitting near the top of that tree?”

They both shook their heads.

“Keep watching,” said Talking Cloud.

Suddenly a hawk swooped down from one of the branches and disappeared into the long grass. Seconds later it flapped into the air, carrying a lifeless rabbit in its talons.

“That's incredible!” cried Kate. “How could you possibly have seen that hawk? It was totally invisible.”

Talking Cloud smiled. “When you live on the plains you have to use your eyes, and all your other senses. You must be part of the living world.”

Just after sunset, the band came to a halt. People had been snacking on dried food throughout the day, so few bothered with an evening meal. Most were content to spread out their rugs and settle down for the night.

“Are you asleep?” whispered AP.

“No. I'm dead tired, but I can't take my eyes off the sky. Did you ever see so many stars?”

AP pointed out several constellations, including the W-shaped Cassiopeia.

When he glanced across at Kate again, she was fast asleep.

* * *

Just a few miles away, Robert Drew was staring up at the same constellations. The pain in his foot had gone, along with most of the swelling, but the skin was still discolored. He was walking again, but Sam Carter insisted he take things easy. They had only visited one camp so far—a small band of Crow—without any news of the youngsters he hunted. No matter, he would find them eventually—of that, he was certain.

* * *

The Sioux's next campsite was an ideal spot in a meadow, beside a river they called the Laughing River. Tall cottonwoods provided shade, and huckleberries—which AP and Kate mistook for blueberries—grew everywhere. Bears and Sioux alike loved the berries, and when the time travelers tasted them, they understood why. But for Kate, the best part of their new location was that it had a perfect place for bathing.

The Sioux, especially the children, loved swimming, and Kate spent much time splashing in the shallows with them. Most of the mothers were Kate's age and she enjoyed their company.

AP tried fishing, with great success, proudly presenting his catches for everyone to eat. [7] One afternoon, Talking Cloud invited him to shoot some arrows. The old man, surprised at how quickly AP learned, asked him if he had ever used a bow before. “Yes,” he replied with a smile, “many years ago.”

Talking Cloud enjoyed talking with AP and his sister. One afternoon, while Kate and AP were skipping stones across the river, he stopped by for a chat.

“When we broke camp to follow the buffalo, how did you know where to find them?” asked AP.

The old man smiled at the simplicity of his question.

“Finding buffalo is easy. You just have to read the signs—trampled grass, hoofprints, droppings—like following footprints in the snow.”

“It looks hard to me,” said AP.

“That's because you look but do not see. You must sharpen your eyes.”

“Like the hawk Kate and I missed?” AP sounded discouraged.

“It takes time. I've lived here all my life. If you train your eyes, they will see.”

AP nodded determinedly.

“The buffalo is a creature of habit too. Every year he makes the same journey, visits the same places. I knew he was headed for this area. Every hunter knows that.”

“But how do you know which way to go?” asked Kate. “I'd never find my way and I'm good at navigating.”

“She's fantastic!” echoed AP.

“I need landmarks,” Kate continued. “We were traveling through flat grasslands. I saw no features! How did you know the way?”

Talking Cloud chuckled. The idea of a Sioux getting lost was as absurd as that of a fish drowning. “Hold up your right hand,” he told her. “Gold Butterfly Woman, have you ever misplaced that hand?”

She shook her head, smiling.

“I know the plains as well as you know that hand. For me to lose my way would be like you losing that hand.”

The Sioux elder bent down and picked up a flat stone. Then, taking careful aim, he let fly. The stone glanced off the water several times before hitting the opposite bank. Chuckling to himself, he carried on with his walk.

* * *

One morning, Kate and AP were watching a sunrise. “I feel connected to everything—the animals, the plants, even the sky!” she said.

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“It's been fun too—lazing under the trees, swimming, listening to stories under the stars.”

“My favorite part has been galloping across the plains on a horse,” said AP. “It feels like flying!”

They both knew their summer with the Sioux could not last forever—no holiday ever

did—but they never expected it to end so abruptly.

Chapter 17: Ho-Ka Hey!

The day began like any other. Kate and AP woke before the others and went for a walk. Then they made plans for the rest of the day over breakfast with Talking Cloud and his family. The hunters were riding out, so there would be feasting that night. Talking Cloud was staying in camp. Kate would play Tawinkapsice—the Sioux equivalent of hockey—with some of the young women. She had played before and was getting good. Afterwards, she would go swimming. AP wanted to practice his observational skills and then go fishing.

AP wandered off alone, reading the signs the way Talking Cloud had shown him. When a patch of grass caught his eye, he bent down for a closer look. As he focused his attention on the spot, a pair of unseen eyes fixed upon him. Someone, slinking through the grass like a phantom, had been following him since he left camp.

Suddenly two hands grabbed AP's shoulders and he leaped into the air.

“Your reactions are quick, but not your senses,” said a voice.

“Talking Cloud!” gasped AP. “I thought I was being attacked!”

“And what if I had been an enemy?”

“I suppose I'd be dead.”

“Yes. So why didn't you hear me coming?”

AP looked blank.

“You were not hearing because you were too busy seeing. You must use all your senses, all the time.” Talking Cloud let his words sink in.

“Now, tell me what your eyes see.”

“I see where a deer was lying,” AP began, heart still pounding. He pointed to a hollow in the grass.

“How do you know it was a deer?”

AP pointed to some small round pellets.

The old man's gaze then shifted to a distant bush.

“What do your eyes see now?”

“Nothing in the bush…but there's a small lizard sunning itself on the boulder by the side.”

Talking Cloud smiled. “Good. You have made much progress since your eyes were blind to the hawk. But you must remember to stay alert.”

AP told Kate about Talking Cloud's lesson when they were alone together, just before the feast.

“I got a quizzing too!” She smiled. “We went for a hike after lunch. I thought Talking Cloud was testing me so I paid great attention to the terrain. Just before we headed back, he made me close my eyes and spin around. Then he told me to open them and lead the way home.”

“How did you do?”

“I got back without any problem. He was impressed.” She paused and her grin became a sad smile. “He reminds me so much of Granddad.”

“You miss him, don't you?”

“Yes. He was—” She was too upset to finish.

They sat in silence for a while. Then the smell of roasting meat wafted their way.

“Come on,” said Kate, standing up. “Let's get over there before all the buffalo's gone!”

After carving off some thick slices from the roast, they sat down on the grass beside Talking Cloud. AP was about to take his first bite when two riders charged into the camp. They were wearing war bonnets. This was the first time Kate and AP had seen Sioux warriors in headdresses. Seconds later the entire camp was in an uproar, wondering what had happened.

After speaking with the riders for several minutes, Talking Cloud held up his hand for silence.

“Bad news,” he announced so all could hear. “Large numbers of troops are moving across the land. From the west, along the Yellowstone River, rides Colonel Gibbon, with over four hundred men.

“From the south comes Three Stars Crook.”

Everyone howled angrily at the mention of his name because General Crook had led the Two Moons massacre.

“Crook leads one thousand soldiers,” Talking Cloud continued, “with two hundred Crow.” [8]

Their outrage at this last piece of news was as much because their sworn enemy fought alongside the Army as it was that they were Crow.

Talking Cloud signaled for quiet and the yelling stopped. “And from the east rides One Star Terry, with three thousand cavalry.” He paused. “He rides with Long Hair Custer.”

The mention of Custer's name was like throwing a switch, and the screaming reached new heights. Talking Cloud waited to continue. “One of the warriors who brought this news wishes to speak. He is Black Hawk.”

“We rode straight from the valley of the Little Bighorn,” Black Hawk began. [9]

“His name suits him,” AP thought, focusing on the great hooked nose and icy black stare.

“We bring word from Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse.” There was a hushed murmur at the mention of the revered names. “Since early spring our people have been flocking to their camps. Our allies, the Cheyenne and Blackfoot, have joined us too. So have our Assiniboine and Arapaho friends. People have left the reservations to join us. We are three thousand warriors and growing stronger every day. The time has come to deliver a crushing blow to the Army.”

The explosive outburst at this remark lasted for some time. Black Hawk remained silent. Then he said, “This is the message we bring you. Come and join us for the greatest gathering of the Sioux Nation. Come and join us for the greatest battle of all time. Come and join us for a great victory over the Wasichus!”

Everyone started screaming the Sioux war cry, Ho-ka hey—Let's go now.

“Now what?” Kate shouted into AP's ear.

Soon the women began packing away the uneaten meat and taking down their tipis. Meanwhile, the men checked their weapons and attended to their horses.

Anxious to keep out of everyone's way, Kate and AP stood back, wondering what to do. Talking Cloud, who had just finished a conversation with Black Hawk, hurried across to talk with them.

“The young bloods speak of beating the Wasichus, of driving them from our land,” he began. “This will not be. We may win a great battle. We may win another summer to live our lives. But that is all we can hope for.” He shook his head. “The Wasichus are unstoppable. We cannot halt the iron horse. We cannot fight the Army's big guns. The flood of settlers will not cease.”

AP tried to find something to say. There was nothing.

“You must return to your people. We have no future.”

“I hate the Wasichus,” Kate blurted, “and I hate myself for being one.”

He smiled at her. “You may be Wasichu on the outside, but you have Wakan Tanka in your heart. So does your brother.”

“Do we have to leave now?” asked Kate.

“Soon. Sings To Her Children is packing food and blankets for you. You should go and change into your other clothes.”

“Which way should we go?”

“I'll show you when it's time.”

Kate and her brother felt wretched as they made their hurried farewells. Sings To Her Children fussed over them as if they were her own. Then Talking Cloud appeared and led the way down to the river. The sun was low, with only two more hours of daylight.

He stood beside the Laughing River, pointing against the flow. “Keep traveling upstream, to the south. That will take you to the Bozeman Trail. You'll find settlers, driving their wagons.” He paused. “Make sure you head south along the Trail—the other way leads to the Little Bighorn.” [10]

“Well,” said AP, “we'd better go.”

Talking Cloud placed both hands firmly on his shoulders. “Look after yourself Young Man Who Sits Too Much. You are wise beyond your years. Use that sharp mind of yours. And remember, keep those senses keen.”

AP shook his hand, even though this was not the Indian way. “Goodbye, Talking Cloud. I wish you could come back home with us. Our world needs people who care about it the way you do. You've taught me so much—” He wanted to say “thank you” but that seemed inadequate.

The old man knew exactly what AP meant. “Just pass it on, my friend. That is thanks enough.”

Turning to Kate, he said, “Go well, Gold Butterfly Woman. You have a good heart and a good life before you. Be happy.”

“I—I'll miss you so much,” she stammered, fighting back tears. Then, throwing her arms around him, she buried her face in his chest and wept.

* * *

Two days later, while AP and Kate continued walking along the river to the Bozeman Trail, Sam Carter and Robert Drew caught up with Talking Cloud and his band. The wily old trader had heard they were headed for Sitting Bull's camp, and wanted to do some last-minute trading. He'd also heard they'd picked up two young Wasichus.

“Fetch me another box of knives,” Sam said to Robert, who was acting as his assistant. A circle of young braves surrounded him, eager to trade their buffalo hides. “The big ones, with the curved blades,” he added.

“They're all gone.”

“The whole lot?” queried Sam.

“Every last one. The straight ones too.”

“What about the smaller ones with black handles?”

“We might have a few of those left. I'll go and check.”

When the last knife had been traded and the warriors had left, Sam approached Talking Cloud.

“I hear two young Wasichus are staying with you,” Sam began casually.

“No longer,” said Talking Cloud. “I sent them back to their own people.”

Robert Drew, busy packing up buffalo hides, listened intently.

“That's good you sent them back to their parents,” said Sam.

Talking Cloud shook his head. “Their parents died when they were young. They were raised by our people—they speak our language. But it was time for them to return to the Wasichus.”

Sam gave his assistant a puzzled look.

“Which way did they go?”

“I told them to follow the Laughing River to the Bozeman Trail. Then they were to keep traveling south and join up with a wagon train.”

Robert tried explaining the discrepancy over the children's parents as he helped Sam load the mules.

“Of course they'd say their parents were dead. They'd hardly tell Talking Cloud they were running away from home would they?”

“Maybe not,” said Sam, “but how can two kids from Philadelphia speak Sioux?”

“My brother married a woman who was half-Sioux.”

“In Philadelphia?”

“Well, no, not exactly, he was on this trip and—”

“Listen,” Sam interrupted, “I don't know what's between you and those kids—that's your business, not mine.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Talking of business, I'm heading north to meet up with the Army.”

Robert looked puzzled.

“We're out of knives, but we still have pots and pans. With a big battle looming, the Army will want supplies. You've been a good assistant these last two weeks—I'd be glad to have you along.”

“I can't. I must catch up with those kids. It's urgent.”

“Suit yourself. But it's a long walk to the Bozeman. You'll need a horse.”

“How can I get one?”

“I'll have a word with Talking Cloud. I'm sure we can work out something.”