In the Footsteps of Crazy Horse (14 page)

BOOK: In the Footsteps of Crazy Horse
10.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“They escorted him back here,” Grandpa Nyles continued.
“He thought he would be taken to the commander's office. There he would have a chance to clear up whatever confusion there was. But they steered him toward that building there.” Grandpa Nyles pointed to the log building behind the monument. “It was a jail.”

Grandpa Nyles paused and stared at the building, then sighed deeply.

“When Crazy Horse saw where they were taking him,” he continued, “he naturally resisted. He tried to get away. The only weapon he had was a knife. By this time a large crowd had gathered, a few hundred people here, watching.

“When the Indian policemen saw the knife, they surrounded him. Little Big Man grabbed his arms from behind. Some say Crazy Horse managed to wound Little Big Man. But when all this commotion was happening, because people were yelling, a soldier came around the building. He saw a Lakota fighting with the Indian policemen, so he thrust his rifle, with a long bayonet on the end of the barrel, at Crazy Horse.”

Grandpa Nyles paused again and took another deep breath.

“The wound was serious—a mortal wound, as they say. He fell there, at that spot. Later he was taken to the post infirmary—the hospital, I guess. He finally slipped away around midnight. His father and his cousin Touch the Clouds were with him.”

From a bag on the dashboard, Grandpa Nyles pulled out a small bundle of sage. “Come on,” he said.

They walked to the monument. Once again, Grandpa Nyles laid the sage on the monument. He sang a warrior's honoring song. He reached up and wiped away tears after he finished the song.

Somehow it seemed fitting that they reached Cold River at sundown. The day was ending, and so was their trip. Jimmy's mom bounded out of the house when they pulled into the driveway.

It felt good to be home, to see his mom again, to hear her voice, to feel her hands caressing his face.

“So,” Anne said, “how are my travelers?”

“Tired,” Jimmy said brightly. “And hungry.”

Anne laughed. “The tired part you can take care of in a few hours. The hungry part we can do something about right now. I've got food on the stove, and Grandma is coming in to join us. Your dad will be home soon, too.”

She looked up at her father. “Good to see you, Dad. Good trip?”

The old man beamed. “A very special journey, that's what it was. The visionary journey of Jimmy McClean and his grandpa.”

 

8

The Way It Was

SCHOOL STARTED IN LATE AUGUST. JIMMY WAS NOT
looking forward to that, because he knew Jesse Little Horse and Corky Brin were still here. He was not surprised to see them standing together in front of the north entrance to the school building. A tiny shiver of fear went up his back. But he pushed it aside in his mind and walked toward the door.

“Hey,” called out Corky. “Thought you might have left the country.”

Jesse Little Horse simply grinned in that cocky, mocking way he had.

Jimmy walked past them without so much as a sideways glance until Corky reached out and grabbed him by the arm.

“Hey,” he said, louder this time. “I'm talking to you.”

“Yeah,” chimed in Jesse. “Didn't think we'd have to teach you a lesson on the first day of school.”

Jimmy could hear his grandpa talking in his head, that day on the Little Bighorn battlefield:
You can have courage and face the tough things that happen to you
.

He jerked his arm out of Corky's grasp. Then he turned and looked at his two enemies. “Come on, then,” he said quietly. “Might as well pick up where we left off.”

Jimmy stood, arms by his side, and waited. His calm gaze went back and forth between their faces.

Corky and Jesse were still grinning, but they noticed something about Jimmy McClean. He had grown a bit over the summer, so he was almost as tall as they were. But it was the look in his eyes that was different. They could tell he was not afraid.

Slowly their expressions changed. Their grins faded
away. Corky Brin glanced nervously at Jesse Little Horse. Jesse, Jimmy could tell, did not know what to do.

Jimmy, meanwhile, was still waiting. He was still calm and clearly not afraid.

He waited a bit longer. “Well, maybe next time,” he said. Turning, he walked through the doors without looking back. He knew they were looking at him and he might have to actually fight them. But he was ready, and he knew they knew that.

Jimmy McClean had a feeling this year would be a better year. After all, Crazy Horse, when he was Light Hair, had endured worse than Corky Brin and Jesse Little Horse. If Light Hair could do it, Jimmy knew he could, too. No sweat.

Author's Note

IN MANY OF THE BOOKS I HAVE WRITTEN, I HAVE EITHER
made Tasunke Witko, His Crazy Horse, the main topic or mentioned some aspect of his life, exploits, or character. Needless to say, he is my hero. Therefore, I am grateful to Howard Reeves at Abrams Books for this opportunity to write about my hero again, this time for a younger audience.

Growing up on the Rosebud Sioux Indian Reservation in South Dakota, with some time spent on the Pine Ridge
Reservation as well, I heard the name Tasunke Witko frequently. Some of what I heard was from descendants of Lakota people who lived in his time. By no means am I an authority on Crazy Horse—I am merely a student of his life and times, and I continue to learn more. However, as a Lakota, I do feel a connection to him because he was a real person, not an imagined hero.

One aspect of my life that connects me to Crazy Horse is bows and arrows. My maternal grandfather made primitive-style Lakota bows and arrows. Fortunately, he passed on to me the knowledge and information necessary to make them, but the skills to do so I had to develop on my own.

Each time I start the process and finish a bow and a set of arrows, and each time I shoot a primitive-style Lakota bow and arrows that I have crafted with my own hands, I cannot help but think of my hero. The simple and profound reality is that he made bows and arrows and used them.

For us Lakota who are aware of our history, stories are
a way to pass that history on, and to remember our heroes. Shooting a Lakota bow is another way that works for me.

I hope you enjoyed this story, but chances are you probably did not enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Glossary

ambush—
a military tactic used in war in which combatants wait in hiding for the approach of their enemy

antelope—
see
pronghorn

Arapaho—
a tribe of North American native people who predated Europeans and who lived in what is now northeastern Colorado and southeastern Wyoming

Arikara—
a tribe of North American native people who predated Europeans and who lived along the northern part of the Missouri River in what is now North Dakota

arrow—
a short wooden projectile tipped with sharpened stone or iron and sent from a wooden bow

Assiniboine—
a tribe of North American native people who predated Europeans and who lived in the northern region of what is now Montana

bank—
the soil edge where a stream or river flows, often eroded by the flowing water

barbed wire—
a double strand of wire into which sharp barbs are twisted; used by ranchers and farmers to fence in domestic livestock such as cattle and horses

battle—
a fight between two or more opposing forces made up of a number of fighters, usually with the use of weapons

Black Hills—
the only mountains on the Great Plains, located in what is now western South Dakota and at one time within the territory controlled by the Lakota people

black powder percussion rifle—
a firearm manufactured by Euro-Americans, capable of firing one round lead ball at a time, after which it had to be reloaded; the lead ball was propelled when a spark from a small percussion cap ignited the black powder in the back end, or breech, of the rifle barrel

bow—
the part of the weapons system that sends the arrow; made by hand by the Lakota out of hardwood such as ash or oak

bowshot—
the distance a Lakota bow could send an arrow, usually about a hundred yards

bullet—
a projectile fired from a rifle or pistol

cavalry—
soldiers or warriors riding into battle on horses and engaging the enemy as mounted combatants

Cheyenne—
a tribe native to North America who lived on the northern Plains and were allies of the Lakota and Arapaho

cholera—
a disease brought by Europeans and Euro-Americans to which native peoples of North America had no immunity; it was an infection of the small intestine that caused watery diarrhea and vomiting, and thousands of native people of many different tribes died from it

club—
a hand weapon used by the Lakota and other northern Plains tribes, usually made with a wooden handle and a head of stone, iron, or the tips of buffalo horns

command—
a military unit such as a squad, company, regiment, or battalion under the authority or command of one person

cooking fire—
a small fire in a pit dug into the ground, over which food was cooked or water was boiled

cottonwood tree—
a large hardwood tree common to the northern Plains that disperses its seeds on small white, cottony plumes that float through the air

coulee—
a gully or ravine

coyote—
a wild canine native to North America, larger than a fox but smaller than a wolf

creek bed—
the bottom, often sandy, part of a creek or stream over which the water flows

Crow—
a tribe native to North America who lived on the northern Plains; they were enemies of the Lakota, Cheyenne, and Arapaho

crow—
a large bird found in North America, covered entirely in black feathers, with a raucous, annoying croak

Dakota—
one-third of a nation of people living on the northern Great Plains, the other two being the Lakota and the Nakota; together the three were known as the Allied People

deer—
an ungulate (which means an animal with hooves),
common to North America (and elsewhere), hunted for its meat and hide by the native people of North America and later by Europeans and Euro-Americans

diorama—
a miniature replica of a building or part of a landscape; dioramas are often used by museums to depict historical events

drag poles—
two long slender poles tied just above the shoulders of a horse and extending behind it and dragged by the horse; on the drag poles was a lightweight wooden platform for carrying bundles or people

Other books

What Might Have Been by Dunn, Matt
Complete Poems by C.P. Cavafy
UnderFire by Denise A. Agnew
KING: Las Vegas Bad Boys by Frankie Love
Crowner's Crusade by Bernard Knight
Choosing Waterbirth: Reclaiming the Sacred Power of Birth by Lakshmi Bertram, Sandra Amrita McLanahan, Michel Odent
August by Gabrielle Lord