Chapter One The Wars

Wellington's Quest

 

 

 

by

Robert F. Clifton

Wellington's Quest

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Wellington's Quest

Copyright © 2013 by Robert F. Clifton

This work originally copyright filed under the title “Whispering Grass”

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

Editor J. Bill Blackmore

 

This book is dedicated to my Granddaughter, Elise Clifton.

Dear one, this is for you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

WELLINGTONS QUEST

by

ROBERT F. CLIFTON

 

 

 

Preface

 

In 1862 the Sioux Tribes of Minnesota, cheated by traders and the Bureau Of Indian Affairs raised up in rebellion against white settlers near Mankato and Ulm. It is thought that over eight hundred citizens were murdered and some butchered. Much of the city of Ulm was burnt to the ground. At the same time many captives were taken,

never to be seen again by their loved ones.

This is a story of one man's search for his finance'.A story of fiction based on historical fact, as James Wellington travels across the grassland and badlands of the Dakota Territory looking for her. While doing so he must fight in the battles that are the beginnings of the Indian Wars and in particular the battles of Stone Hill and Killdeer Mountain. He serves with Generals Sibley and Sully and while doing so forms a different opinion of the Indian.

Historically the leader of the Sioux tribe in the rebellion was a man named “Little Crow”. Since this is a work of fiction I created and replaced “Little Crow” with the name “Matosapa” as Chief of the Mdewakatana Dakota Sioux.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1. Chapter One

 

The Wars Begin

 

James Wellington pulled the wide brim, felt hat down tighter on his head then adjusted the bandana so that it again covered his face.

The winter wind constantly blew a flurry at him and he lowered his head in order to keep snowflakes driven by the blizzard out of his eyes. As he did he saw the clouds of steamy breath exhaled by his mount as it struggled through the deep drifts. He knew the animals were tired, so was he, but he urges them forward, on to the copse of pines he saw in the distance. There, among the trees they would have shelter, a fire, blankets to cover them and food to eat.

Snow, cold and blizzards were nothing new to him. The winter wind Born and raised on a farm near Mankato, Minnesota winters there were mild in the valley, but he spent time in the North Woods where the cold could kill. The extreme cold brought back recollections and as he headed for the trees memories came back to him.

Growing up on a farm meant constant labor. There was the plowing, planting, harvesting, slopping the hogs, mucking the stalls, then creating two separate piles of manure, one horse and mule, the other cow, each type used for fertilizer for a different crop. At night he sat before the fireplace or with just the glow of an oil lamp and ground corn into meal or wheat into flour testing the quality of He enjoyed winter. Winter met less chores, less work and the chance to go into the wilderness to hunt, to trap. By the time he was twelve years old he had trapped beaver, but mostly muskrat. With the money he received from the sale of the pelts he bought his first rifle, an old, Pennsylvania Rifle, complete with powder horn, bullet mold, flints and lead, all for the price of ten dollars. With the rifle he could hunt, take game, provide meat for the table. He took moose and deer, ducks and geese. If he didn't hunt he fished and his mothers table never lacked.

Other than his distaste for farming James Wellington had a happy life. He lived with his aging mother, his sister and her husband. Two miles away was another farm owned by the Martin family. Tom and Martha Martin had two sons, Tom Junior age twenty eight, Henry age twenty four and one daughter, Virginia, soon to be eighteen.

Jim had known Virginia first, as a neighbor, then as a member of the congregation at church. At first he paid little or no attention to her, but as she grew and blossomed he watched a metamorphosis that transformed her into a beautiful, young lady.

She had strawberry blond hair and always wore a blue bow in it. She had pale blue eyes and four perfectly placed freckles across the bridge of her nose. Small boned and petite she had a smile that delighted him, a giggle that made him laugh and an excellent mind that made him pay attention.

He didn't have to ask her to marry him. They both took the idea of marriage to each other as a long ago conclusion. Neither of them actually enjoyed farm life, but neither one of them knew anything else or any other life style. They both settled their minds accepting the fact that as a married couple their livelihood would depend on farming.

They had two choices. The first, was to live on the Martin farm, but Jim could not vision himself taking orders from the Martin men. The second alternative was to live on the Wellington farm. Jim, as the only son received the farm upon his father's death when the man died in the field digging out a tree stump.

Taking over the responsibility of operating the farm was no problem at first, then his brother-in-law, Ben Conner’s, ten years older than Jim began complaining that as a member of the family he deserved more of the profits after the harvest when the crops were sold.

Jim never particularly liked Ben Conner's. First of all he was a man in his thirties when he married Jim's sister, Amanda. Amanda had only been sixteen. Although the marriage of older men to young girls or women was the custom, Jim did not approve and he told Ben what he thought at the time. As a result the two men never got along. Most times the tension between the two men radiated making things in the household difficult.

Now, looking forward to his own marriage he could foresee many problems. One would be bringing a young wife into a house that had two other women. Virginia was use to a home where the men earned the living and the women ran the household. Jim's mother and sister would rule the roost. His problem still wasn't solved when on April 12, 1861 Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor was fired upon and the Civil War began.

President Lincoln called for volunteers to put down the rebellion and on April 14, 1861, the State of Minnesota began enlisting

men for its regiments. Tom and Henry Martin were taking a wagon into Mankato to enlist. They stopped at the Wellington farm and asked Jim if he wanted to go with them. For an answer Jim climbed up into the wagon.

As the three young men rode down the dusty, dirt, road that led to Mankato, they spoke on what they thought army life would be like and that it was a once in a life time opportunity for adventure. They mentioned the fact that the rebellion would be put down in just three or four months and how lucky they were to be a part of it. They wondered on what sights they would see. Would they see Atlanta? Would they go to New Orleans? Was it possible that they would see plantations and cotton fields? They were still discussing their future when Henry Martin stopped the horse drawn wagon in front of the recruiting office in Mankato.

When they went inside they were met by a Sergeant of the regular army. “You boy's intend to sign up?”, he asked.

“Yes sir”, Tom Martin answered.

“Good, first we'll have the doctor look at you and if he says you're fit, I'll have you sign the enlistment papers. You'll be some of the first to join the Minnesota Volunteers”, said the Sergeant.

Jim Wellington was the first in line. He stood quietly while the doctor looked into his eyes, then his teeth and then listened to his heart by placing his ear to Jim's chest. Finally, raising his head he said, “I noticed that when you walked in here that you have a slight limp. Walk to the front door, turn around and walk back to me”

Jim did what he was told. “What's wrong with your left foot?”, asked the doctor.

“They tell me that when I was a Tot I wandered into the barn and watched my mother milking a cow. It's been said that the cow was startled and stepped back. When she did she trampled my foot. Seems my foot was crushed at the time. My mother says the doctor came and set the bones to right, but the foot never healed in the right manner. I've had a limp ever since.”

“I see. I'm afraid I'm going to have to reject you son. With a limp like that, even though it's a slight hobble you wouldn't be able to march”, said the doctor.

“Then put me in the Calvary”, Jim replied.

“There are times when the Calvary dismounts, fights on foot, or walk their horses. They don't ride all the time”, said the Sergeant, interrupting.

Jim stood and watched the Martin boys sign their enlistment papers and he felt the emptiness, the feeling of not being chosen. Now, he would be considered just one of those who was unfit to serve his state

and his country in its time of need and he was filled with remorse.

The three young men were silent on the trip back to their homes. The Martin boys knew what was going through Jim's mind, so they remained quiet.

When they arrived at the Wellington farm Jim jumped off of the wagon, said a, “Thank you and good by” and headed for the fields

now covered with young, two and three foot stalks of corn. Just beyond the cornfield stood a sour apple tree and when he reached the place where it grew he slowly sat down and leaned back against the trunk. Despondent, he could not believe what had happened to him in Mankato.”Rejected! Not fir for service!” The words continually raced through his mind. “Rejected, all because of a slight limp”, he could not understand it. He had limped on that foot since he was two or three years old. It had never stopped him.

He worked the farm everyday. He plowed, he planted, lifted bales of hay, dug tree stumps out of the ground. In winter he hiked the woods. There he trapped, hunted, fished, survived on his own.

 

In those woods he endured the hardships of cold, rain, snow, often walking miles following game trails and animal tracks. Still, the doctor had rejected him, saying,”He was not fit for service”.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw something move and he turned to see Virginia coming through the cornfield as she headed for him. When she neared he got up slowly. Finally, as she stood in front of him she took his hand and on tip toe raised up and kissed him. “My brothers told me what happened”, she said.

“I knew they would”, he answered.

She waited a moment before responding. Finally, she replied. “Well, I'm glad. I don't want you marching off to war. Getting shot at, maybe even getting killed.”

“Seems that you know more than the doctor. He said that I couldn't march. Yet, you have me marching off to war”, said Jim.

“The only march I want you to do is the wedding march”, said Virginia.

He smiled at her. “That's one march I want to make too, but it ain't right that all the other fellows around here are doing their part, joining up. When they go, I'll still be here, viewed as a shirker, a cripple, less than a man.”

“You are no such thing James Wellington. You are as much as a man as any around these parts and much more of a man than some. Besides, there are other things you can do to support our troops”. He smiled and pulled her close. After kissing the top of her head, said, “Come on, I'll walk you home.

“That evening Jim sat at the dinner table with his brother-in-law. “Ben, this war means two things to me. First, it's going to be a long war. Anyone who thinks it will be over in ninety days is fooling themselves. Second, since it is going to be a long war the Union Army is going to need food. Right now we're getting twenty five cents a bushel for our wheat. I expect that at this time next year to be getting forty five cents a bushel. Therefore, I'm going to plant five more acres of wheat come spring.”

“Sounds like good thinking, but you know the price of wheat can and does change during shipment. If there is a surplus the buyers know

 

it and they'll wait until the grain is loaded on the barges before they buy” answered Ben Connors.

“True, but right now I'm not thinking about selling to the Chicago or Milwaukee buyers', Jim responded.

“Then, where will you sell?”, asked Ben.

“Redwood Falls, at the Redwood Sioux Agency. Think about it. Less miles to travel transporting the wheat. The agency surely has need for flour and best of all the Indian Agent has cash on hand. We get paid up front instead of waiting for a transfer of funds,” Jim explained.

“Do you think that's wise? I've heard tell of some farmers attacked by Indians when taking their grain to market, Ben questioned.

“If I go in June the Sioux will be on the Redwood Reservation”, Jim answered.

“How can you be sure?” asked Ben.

Jim took out a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket and handed it to his brother-in-law. Read that”, he said.

Ben unfolded the paper and saw that it was a printed flier. He began to read:

GRAND PLEASURE EXCURSION

TO THE SIOUX AGENCY

FRANK STEEL, CAPTAIN HATCHER,

FAVORITE CAPT. BELL OF DAVIDSON LINE

WILL MAKE EXCURSION

 

Trip to the

LOWER SIOUX AGENCY

on Monday, the 17th of June

Leaving St. Paul at 4:00 P.M. And

arriving at the agency in time to witness

the payments, which will come off on the

19th and 20th

This will afford an opportunity to persons

wishing to visit this splendid region of country

And of witnessing THE CEREMONIES of the

payment of nearly 5,000 Indians

 

Staterooms can be secured of TEMPLE &

BEAUPRE AGENTS ON THE LEVEE

 

Ben folded the flier and handed it back to Jim. “Seems like you've thought this through and made up your mind. Two things you still should be aware of”, said Ben.

“And, they would be?”

“There still might be hostiles out there, and what happens if the Indian Agent doesn’t buy?

“No Indian in his right mind would miss the payment of the annuity. If the agent doesn't buy I'll load it on the Davidson while it's still at the dock”, Jim answered.

On June 17, 1861 Jim Wellington drove his loaded wagon through ribbons of oak, elm, maple and cottonwood trees as he traveled the narrow dirt road towards the Redwood Sioux Agency. The Agency sat on the shores of the Minnesota River that originated at the Minnesota, South Dakota border. It flowed southwest to Mankato then turned northeast, joining the Mississippi south of the twin cities.

After stopping the wagon in front of the building that served as the office of the Indian Agent, Thomas Galbraith, Jim climbed down from the spring seat, dusted himself off and entered the structure. There, he offered his wheat to the Agent.

“Are you trying to sell me wheat or flour?” Galbraith asked.

“Grain”, Jim answered.

“Sorry, I've got no way to mill grain”.

“Can't the Indians grind it themselves? They grind corn don't they?”

“It's not a question of what the Sioux can do. The regulations require that I buy corn and flour, not wheat as non-milled grain, sorry”.

“It appears that I should have brought corn”, said Jim.

“It wouldn't matter. My warehouses are filled with corn, so I wouldn't be buying, Galbraith replied.

“Well, thank you anyway. I'll just ship it north. When is the Frank Steel due to dock?” Jim asked.

“Anytime now. You're in luck. I heard that she unloaded a

 

hundred barrels of salt on this trip. That means there's room for your wheat. How many bushels did you bring?”, asked the Agent.

“Thirty”, Jim responded.

“Have you ever shipped your grain with the Davidson Line?

“No”.

“The Captain will charge you fifteen cents a bushel”, the Agent added.

“That kinda cuts into my profit”.

“I thought you'd like to know”, said Galbraith.

“I do and I thank you. It appears that I'm between a rock and a hard place. I can ship and make some money, or I can turn around and go back home and haul my grain to St. Paul where I'll make a better profit. Of course that means a trip of over eighty miles both ways. I think I'll ship from here. I'll still make money, said Jim.”

He spent the night on the banks of the Minnesota River that flowed near the Redwood Agency. He had pulled his loaded wagon in among a stand of cottonwood trees. There, he unhitched the mule, rubbed it down, tethered the animal to the trunk of a tree, filled a feed bag with oats and allowed the crossbred to eat. At sunset Jim filled a coffee pot with river water. Put in a half a handful of ground coffee beans and placed the pot on the glowing embers of the fire he had built.

His supper that night was a slice of ham, cornbread and coffee. When he was finished eating he untied the mule and led it to the edge of the water and allowed it to drink. As it did Jim washed his plate, knife and fork. He would re-heat the coffee in the morning.

Back at his campsite he checked the mule covering the animal with an old blanket to keep the flies and mosquitoes off of its hide during the night. Then, he gathered dead branches that laid on the ground, placed them near the fire, made his bed on top of dead cottonwood leaves and went to sleep.

The next morning he was amazed at the sight before him as he neared the Redwood Agency. As far as he could see there were erected tipi's. Sioux women went about their daily activities, working hides and skins, others cooked over open fires. Children ran about in play and their happy voices were carried on the morning air. A large pony herd

9.

was being watched by the older boys of the tribe. Jim estimated that the collection of horses to be of about ten or fifteen thousand head. He maneuvered the mule and wagon slowly through the throng of people, a crowd now made up of fancy dressed men and women with plumed hats and parasols, mixed with members of the crew off of the Frank Steel now tied at the dock. Sioux men and women dressed in buckskins, others partially attired in the clothing of the white man walked through the grounds of the agency. Some wanted to trade such things as beaded moccasins for steel knives or dried pemmican for apple cider. Most of the Sioux men looked for weapons or whiskey.

A brass band began to play much to the delight of the Indians many of whom were fascinated with the sounds that came out of the trombones and tubas. Jim had to halt the mule several times before he was able to pull his wagon dockside. Shouting over the loud music, he asked a deck hand where the Captain was. “He's topside on the bridge,” answered the man.

“Can you get him for me?”,asked Jim.

“Nope, I'm busy, you want him come aboard and go up there and see him.”

“I don't like leaving my mule, wagon and load unattended”, explained Jim.

“See that pickaninny over there? He's trustworthy. Pay him with a twenty five cent piece and he'll climb up there on the wagon seat and protect your property like he owns it.

Jim called to the boy. The ten year old ran to him and when Jim explained what he wanted the lad to do the youngster took a position on the spring seat of the wagon and sat there like he was in command of the entire rig, including freight.

Crossing the gangplank and stepping down on to the deck Jim was met by a tall, neatly, bearded man about forty years old nattily dressed in a tan suit. He took a look at Jim and smiled. “Excuse me sir, but may I inquire of just what you are transporting in your wagon?”, asked the man.

“Wheat, I'm about to try to ship it to St. Paul”, Jim answered.

“May I ask what price you are looking for?”, asked the stranger.

 

“Thirty five cents a bushel”, said Jim.

“I'll take all of your wheat and give you twenty eight cents a bushel”, said the man.

“It's selling for thirty five cents a bushel in St. Paul”, said Jim.

“True, it is, at the mill, after you transport it there. If you ship it here on the Frank Steel the shipping rate is fifteen cents a bushel as you already know. I'll pay you what I offered plus the shipping fee', the man stated.

“That means you'll end up paying forty three cents a bushel when you total up the cost mister, mister?”

“Wilcox, Milford Wilcox, and you let me worry about the total cost. You see I'm what they call a speculator. Some might call me a war profiteer. This will be a long war I'm afraid. Our side will need food, bread in particular. I'll store this wheat and sell it later with the best offer. I guarantee you the best offer will come from the Quartermaster General that will purchase my wares', said Wilcox.

“How can you be so sure?”, asked Jim.

“As the saying goes, I have friends in high places, Mister? Mister?”

“Excuse me. The names wellington, James Wellington”.

Wilcox held out his hand and asked, “Then Mister Wellington do we have a deal?”

Jim took the man's hand and shook it. “Yes sir, we do. I lost a little in profit, but gained a whole lot less trouble”.

“Excellent! May I suggest that we lunch on the upper deck. You'll be my guest of course. I should like to inquire about your other crops that might be of interest to me. While we lunch we can watch the festivities. I'm told that the Sioux will do a few tribal dances this day”.

Shortly after One P.M. The two men left the Frank Steel and walked to a place in the shade where they could watch the proceedings. The brass band that had traveled down the river from St. Paul left the grounds and when the last musician left the area Sioux women entered.

All of the women walked into the shade of the buildings. Some sat. Other stood. Then the standing women began to sing. As they sang the seated women got to their feet and began to dance.

 

As the women sang, the steady beating rhythm of a buffalo hide drum could be heard. The dancers moved in a clockwise direction.

“They do this dance as the circle of unity, the never ending cycle of life”, said Wilcox to Jim.

“You must have seen them dance before”, suggested Jim.

“Many times. I come for the payment of the annuities every year. By being here I get I get an awareness of just how the tribes are feeling. I'll tell you this, The United States government and in particular the bureau Of Indian Affairs are cheating on a daily basis. They force the tribes to concede their land by having them sign a treaty. Each treaty ends up being a lie and the Indians know it. The Bureau Of Indian Affairs cheats the tribes by cutting rations, or by selling them inferior goods”, said Wilcox.

“Have you learned anything since you've been here?”, asked Jim.

“A couple of things. This time there were many traders on board for the trip down river. I heard their conversations. They want the Bureau Of Indian Affairs to give the money to them instead of the Indians”, explained Wilcox

“Will Washington do that?”

“Not this year. The money is already in Galbraith's office. At present I guess there are five thousand Sioux here. Two thousand of them are men old enough to fight. I've only seen a small detachment of soldiers from fort Ridgely. The traders that they're in no position to argue being outnumbered. They'll wait, take their time. Sen their people to Washington. Once they get the money allotted to the Sioux, then they'll dictate their own policy.”

“But, aren't you actually a trader?”, asked Jim.

“No, as I mentioned, I'm a speculator. I buy cheap, but I don't cheat. In many way I'm a gambler. I stake my money on a product or a commodity. I can win or I can lose. The traders want a fixed game with them holding all of the high cards”, Wilcox answered.

“What do you think will happen?”, asked Jim

“I don't know. I might learn something tomorrow. That's when Matosapa, the Chief of the Mdewakatana Dakota Sioux meets with

Galbraith. It's called a wacipi in their language. He'll register his complaints, remind the Agent of the promises made by the Great Father

in Washington, then sit back and shake his head in disagreement at everything that Galbraith tries to explain”, Wilcox answered.

“I'd sure like to see that meeting', said Jim.

“Then, why don't you?”, asked Wilcox.

“It's time I got back to the farm”.

“Why not dine with me tonight on the Frank Steel. By then your wheat will have been loaded on the ship. I'll pay you for your grain and we can talk business, suggested Wilcox.

“What kind of business?”

“What is known as supply and demand”, answered Wilcox.

“Sounds interesting. Alright, I'll stay. Once the wagons unloaded I'll pull it in with militia's. It will be safe there. That's where I'll sleep tonight”.

“I assume that it's better than sleeping on the cold ground. Unfortunately, all of the staterooms on board the Frank Steel are occupied. I do have a house here, but at present my attorney is using it for visiting relatives”, said Wilcox.

At dinner that evening Milford Wilcox took a sip of wine, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Now, my good man I want you to know that you have an opportunity to become a very rich man. The war as unobjectionable as it may be, still provides a chance for some to benefit from its misery”, he said.

“As you said, wheat, maybe corn”, Jim replied.

“True, true, however, I'm looking for things the government will need for the war. Things like saltpeter, leather for belts, rifle slings, knapsacks and in particular, shoes', said Wilcox.

“All of which I don't have”, Jim responded.

“Allow me to finish my good man. What will be in demand is flax. Think about it. The South no longer ships cotton to the Northern mills. Union uniforms will be made out of wool or linen. Bandages and dressings will be made out of linen. Bedsheets for the hospitals, all linen. Flax then, will be in demand during this war”, Wilcox explained.

“I grow some for home use. My mother and sister still spin,

making towels and aprons”, Jim responded.

“If you are wise you will grow more”, said Wilcox.

“I'll give it some thought. Now, I'll say good evening. As I mentioned earlier, I intend to place my wagon in among the troops from the fort where my mule, wagon and hopefully, myself will be safe”, said Jim as he got up from the table.

“And a good night to you sir. I shall seek you in the morning and if we're lucky we'll find a good spot to see and overhear the meeting of Matosapa and Agent Galbraith,” said Wilcox.

That night Jim slept wrapped in his blankets in the back of an empty wagon. Waking frequently from a restless sleep he checked the bulge in his pocket, a bulge that amounted to nearly ten dollars and forty cents, money from the sale of his wheat to Milford Wilcox.

Jim met Wilcox at ten o'clock in the morning and the two men sauntered to where the meeting between Matosopa who the whites called, “Black Bear” and Agent Thomas Galbraith would take place.

“I want to get a little closer. That way I can hear what they're saying”, said Wilcox.

“Do you understand Sioux?”, asked Jim

“Not fluently, but enough to know what's going on”, answered Wilcox.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a buffalo skin drum announcing the arrival of the Sioux delegation. Both men turned their heads and watched as Matosopa and twenty men that followed him walked into the complex. As he walked the chief of the Sioux looked up into the sky, seeing the sun.

Wilcox began to laugh.

“Something funny”, asked Jim.

“Matosopa just checked the position of the sun in the sky. He'll take a seat on the ground where the sun will be behind him and in Galbraith's eyes”, explained Wilcox.

Both men watched as the door of the Indian Agency opened and Galbraith and two Bureau of Indian Affairs men walked out to where three chairs had been placed for them. There. They were forced to move the seats to a position that faced the Chief of the Sioux.

Galbraith opened the talks. “It is good to see you again Matosopa. On this day I have two men sent by the Great Father in Washington to hear your complaints and also to witness to your people. As you can see many traders and merchants are here wishing to supply you with your needs”.

Matosopa listened and when it was his turn to speak, he said, “Ten winters ago I met with men sent by the Great Father in Washington. Then, I signed a paper. The paper that your people call the “Treaties of des Sioux and Mendota. Our people now call this paper, White Man's lies. At that time I agreed to move my people to the Minnesota River. We we got there we were told that we could only live on one shore of the river or move to the Dakota Territory.

We were told that we had to learn the white man's ways. I cast off my tribal dress and wore the trousers and jacket with the brass buttons. We were told that our religion was that of savages, so I joined the Episcopal Church. I visited the Great Father in Washington. I sat and talked with him. Something that you have never done, Galbraith. I took up farming. All these things I have done, all things asked of me by the White Man. Still, you and your people lie to us. You and your people cheat us in trade and still you expect us to be thankful for the corn that you give us, corn with blue-green mold, flour with weevils. We are expected to smile as you give us the rancid meat of the pig.

Your white settlers take our land. They take our game. We have no meat. We have no furs or hides to trade and we hunger.

Your storehouses are filled with corn and sacks of flour, dried meat and fish, all those things were promised to us by the Great Father in Washington, yet we must come to you like a beggar to ask for what is rightfully ours.

Today, you pay us with paper, paper that we must give back to you when we are forced to buy the things we need, things that are double of their worth. I say to you now Galbraith the patience of my young men is breaking. Soon, I will not be able to silence them or prevent them from acting against you. You and the men sitting there with you can right this wrong. You can right it now. That's all I have to say”.

One of the men from the Bureau Of Indian Affairs spoke. “Your annuities have been reduced because of the debt you owe to the traders. Payments to your tribe are slow because there is a major war between the white people of this nation. The Great Father in Washington asked that you be patient”.

“I tell you now that we grow tired of your lies. We grow tired of eating scraps like our village dogs eat scraps. Patient? I ask the men of my tribe, many who are warriors to be patient. Now, they listen to me. I cannot say what will happen when they do not heed my words”, Matasopa responded.

The other man of the Bureau of Indian Affairs stood, ready to say something. Matosopa raised his hand. “Do not speak. I have heard many words, many times. For now, pay my people with your paper money. Then, we will trade as we must and go”. Matosopa turned and left the meeting. When he did army troops began forming the Sioux into long lines.

Jim turned to Wilcox and asked, “Well, what do you think?”

Wilcox shook his head, “It looks bad Jim. If I were you or any of the others living here in this river valley I'd be arming myself. Matosopa has twenty wives and thirty six children. They all have to be fed. He knows there is a war going on and the troops are not in Minnesota, If the traders think that he's bluffing, then they don't know that he killed his own brother in order to become Chief”.

“Oh well, we'll just have to wait ans see. Milford. It's been a pleasure meeting you as well as doing business with you. Now, I must say good by. I hope to see you here again next year”, said Jim as he shook hands with the man.

“I'm afraid that won't happen. Nonetheless, telegraph me in St. Paul from time to time letting me know what you have to offer. Meanwhile, keep your hair my friend.”

A gust of wind blew snow in his eyes causing Jim to return from his reverie and he headed into a stand of pines.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

The Uprising

 

After tending to the mule Jim trudged through the small snow drifts that had materialized among the pine trees. Fortunately for him the snows of the past three days were that of a dry snow and the scattered branches that he collected for his fire were not wet.

While the fire was burning he filled a tin cup with snow time and time again placing it near the fire pit and watched the snow melt and turn into water. When he finally had a full cup he placed a teaspoon full of tea leaves in the liquid and placed the cup on glowing embers. With a cup of hot tea, dry beef jerky and a hard biscuit he ate his supper.

As he ate he gazed into the glowing fire. The pine wood crackled from time to time. When it did sparks rose up into the darkening sky appearing like fireflies in the cold night Air.

Fire, he became mesmerized by it and his mind wandered back in time, to the summer of 1862. Tom Martin Jr. had been killed at the Battle of the first Bull Run and Jim helped Virginia through her mourning until she eventually accepted her brothers death.

Jim and Ben continued to argue about everything in general, but the planting of crops in particular. Jim cleared another five acres and planted wheat. Instead of corn he planted flax and as usual his crops thrived and he had an excellent harvest. With a trip into Mankato he sent a telegram to Milford Wilcox offering both his wheat and his flax to the man. Also requested was an offered price.

While in town he got a haircut, then walked down the street looking into shop windows. He marveled at the many new items that were now on the market. Glassware, pottery, silver eating utensils manufactured men shirts and collars all on display and all for sale. He entered a confectionery store and picked out twenty five pieces of chocolate candy and watched the store owner, a woman place the bonbons in a box, each piece neatly separated from the others seated in a paper shell. The box would only hold twenty four candies so he ate the odd piece. Walking outside he noticed the heat of the day for the first time as he walked towards the telegraph office. On the way he bought a newspaper from a boy, read the headline, folded it, saving it to read later when he got home, hoping to catch up on the news of the war.

As expected there was a telegraph reply to him from Wilcox. It read. “Will pay 45 cents a bushel for wheat delivered here stop Only interested in flax seed not stalks stop Price will be offered after inspection stop Suggest caution en route stop Sioux restless stop Milford Wilcox.

He arrived back at the farm at night fall. His mother kept a plate of stew warm for him in the oven and he sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper by oil lamp as he ate. He turned the pages of the Harper's Weekly that he had bought for six cents and read Lincoln's Confiscation Order. The Chickahominy Calvary Charge article caught his eye and he read even as he drank his coffee. He looked with interest at the artist rendering of thee different battles and skirmishes that had taken place. No where was there was there any mention of Indian unrest. Raids or wars.

When he was finished eating he placed his dish, cup and fork in the dry sink, lowered the oil lamp wick until the flame went out, then went to bed.

The next day was Sunday and after church he and Virginia went out into the country side. He pulled the mule to a halt next to a small pond. After being helped down from the wagon Virginia reached into the back of the wagon and retrieved a picnic basket. While she placed a white linen table cloth on the grass beneath a cottonwood tree, Jim moved the mule into the shade. He reached under the wagon seat and picked up the box of chocolates he had bought for her in Mankato.

As they ate their sandwiches that Virginia had made they talked about the war, crops, chickens, then finally their plans for the future. “I think I have a solution to our problem,” said Jim.

“And that is?”, asked Virginia.

“Do you know where the sour apple tree stands?, he asked.

“Yes”.

“Well, right near that spot is where I'll build out home. That way it's ours and you'll be the lady of the house. All you have to do is tell me what you want. How many rooms? How large do you want each room to be? Naturally, it will have a front porch. What color do you want it to be? I was thinking of white. What do you think?”, he asked.

“Oh dear me, so many questions Jim. You must give a girl time to think about such things”.

“Take your time. I was thinking that just as soon as the house is finished then we can marry and move right in”.

“How long will it take?”, she asked.

“I figure three months, four at the most. There's a fella in Mankato that's a house builder. I don't expect him to build during the winter.”

“A house builder? Won't that be expensive?”

“Probably, but right now I'm making good money. And while we're on the subject of money I have to go to St. Paul in the morning. I've got a load of wheat and flax for Wilcox,” said Jim.

“When will you be back?”, she asked.

“The day after tomorrow. Here, I got these for you”, he said handing her the box of candy.

“Oh, what a beautiful ribbon they wrapped the box with and its my favorite shade of blue, cerulean. I'll wear it in my hair. Thank you. Well, since you'll be in St. Paul I might just go see my aunt and cousin in Ulm.

After she lifted the candy box lid she made a troubled face and said, “Oh dear”.

“What's wrong?”, asked Jim.

“I'm afraid the chocolates have melted”, Virginia answered.

They both laughed when the soft chocolate coated their fingers and lips as they ate the candies.

Early the next morning with a loaded wagon Jim began the trip to St. Paul. He traveled under red, white, blue and gray colored herring bone clouds as the rising sun created a painted sky. As he traveled the dirt road he passed other farms, some run down others prosperous.

He marveled at the red brick farm house of Clyde Dillard that sat upon one hundred acres planted with corn and winter wheat. A few head of cattle grazed in a clover covered field. Somewhere a rooster crowed.

“Someday and somehow ill be a rich farmer just like Clyde. Hell. I'm only twenty two years old. I've got my whole life ahead of myself and I'm making good money', he thought to himself.

By the time the sun set Jim had covered about forty miles, stopping periodically to let the mule rest. He began looking for a place to bed down for the night. The summer rain had created pools and puddles on the side of the road and the forest covered ground on both sides of the way. Finding a dry place to camp for the night was becoming difficult. As he rounded a bend in the road he noticed that there was a slight rise in the terrain and he headed for it. He smiled when he saw a cut in the woods. It appeared to be an old, wide path probably made by hunters. Fishermen or loggers.

He urged the mule forward and up over the rise. After climbing down from the wagon he lit the wick of a lantern. Then, with the glow of the kerosene lamp lighting the way he walked deeper into the woods following the outline of the cut now covered with forest undergrowth. The golden light given off by the lantern began to draw mosquito’s and soon he began swatting them as they landed on his hands and face. Walking in the illuminated darkness he came to the edge of a small pond. Holding the lantern high he looked around and saw the tree stumps and discarded branches, the signs of an old logging operation. At the edge of the pond he lowered the lantern and saw the sign and footprints of a timber wolf. They were old prints but it told him that wolves were in the area and he was unarmed. Walking back to where the wagon was, the mule stood silently, trustingly, waiting for Jim to either unhitch him, or begin the journey again.

“No more Jack. We've covered enough miles for one day. I'll have you unhitched in a shake, get you some water and you can have the feed bag”, said Jim to the animal. He took the wooden bucket from out of the back of the wagon, then using the lantern to light the way returned to the pond. From the quiet pool of water he filled the bucket and returned to the mule and allowed the animal to drink. Unhitching the Jack he led it to a place where new grass grew among the underbrush, but instead of letting the mule graze he placed the feed bag filled with oats on the animals head.

Jim's supper that night was slices of bread and bacon followed by two cups of black coffee. Then, he made up his bed roll got in it and went to sleep, knowing that as tired as he was the coffee wouldn't keep him awake.

At four o'clock P.M. Jim stopped the wagon in front of the office of Milford Wilcox. After climbing down from the wagon he tied the reins of the mule to a hitching post. He then brush as much as the trail dust as he could from his clothes then walked to the door of the work place belonging to the investor, Wilcox.

The door was opened by a small man wearing a black suit, white shirt and a starched collar. Smiling, the man said, “You must be Mister Wellington. Please come in. Mister Wilcox is at the mill for the present. However, he has instructed me to see that you are comfortable until such time he arrives. He sends his apologies for not being here upon your arrival.”

“No problem. And, you are?”, asked Jim'

“Jenkins, Orlando Jenkins. I am the purchasing agent for Mister Wilcox, answered the man.

Jim shook hands with the man. “Seems to me that since you do the buying you can check my wagon load out there, tell me what it's worth and we can start dickering price”.

“Yes, why don't we. Milford had told me that you were bringing flax seed. May I ask is it brown or yellow seed?”, asked Jenkins.

“It's brown and there are sixty bushels of wheat”, Jim answered.

Both men walked outside. They stood beside the wagon as Jenkins inspected the jute bags filled with grain. Jim turned to see men rushing through the street, some shouting, others talking excitedly. “I wonder what's going on?”, asked Jim.

Before Jenkins could answer he turned his head and saw Milford Wilcox approaching with speed in his one horse buggy. “I don't know, but perhaps Mister Wilcox has some information”, said the agent.

Wilcox stopped the one horse vehicle next to Jim's wagon. “Thank god that you're safe. I was afraid that they might have caught you on the open road”, said Wilcox.

“Who? What are you talking about?”, asked Jim.

“The Sioux. Haven't you heard? The Sioux situation has exploded. The word on the telegraph is that possibly five hundred whites have been killed. Other reports say eight hundred people are dead, men, women, even children. Farms have been raided, houses burned, livestock slaughtered', Wilcox explained.

Jim stood in shocked silence trying to comprehend what he had just heard. “It can't be. Why? Why?”, he asked.

“Greed my good man, greed. The government gave the money for the annuity to the traders. Then, the traders cheated the Sioux. It was bound to happen,”said Wilcox.

“But why kill that many people? Why would they do that?”, asked Jim.

“The white man has taken land that belonged to the Indians. Treaties were made. Treaties were signed and treaties were broken. Each time a treaty was broken more white settlers came into the Minnesota River Valley and settled. Now, I would imagine that Matosapa thinks that he can drive all of the settlers out of his land”, said Wilcox.

“Can we get this wagon unloaded? I've got to get back there”, said Jim aroused by the bad news.

“Right now there's nothing you can do. Think about it. You have to travel eighty miles. That mean two days, providing you don't kill your mule. In your mental state you'd push him through the night and kill that jack on the way”, said Wilcox.

“I've got family back there, a mother, sister and her husband. There's the girl I'm going to marry. I've got to go”, said Jim.

“Listen to me my friend. If they're alive, then they're safe. If they are dead and I pray to God that they're not then there's nothing you can do for them. Use your head Jim. Start back tomorrow. Rest yourself and for goodness sake rest your mule. I see no arms on your person on in the wagon. If and when you go back to the situation down there you must be armed. From here in St. Paul to the Minnesota River there could be bands of Sioux along the roads. Take a look, people are running around, running scared, arming themselves. The Minnesota Regiments are not here Jim. They're fighting somewhere else and Manosapa knows it. Go tomorrow and for God's sake arm yourself”, Wilcox advised.

Jim hesitated for a moment before responding. Finally, realizing that Wilcox was right he asked, Where's the nearest livery? I want to take care of my mule and wagon.”

“Leave both right here. I'll have my men unload your seed and grain and take your jack and wagon to my barn. Meanwhile my friend climb up here into my carriage. You will spend the rest of the day and of course the night with me. I will try to ascertain as much information as I can about what happened down in the valley”, said Wilcox.

That evening as they sat at the dinner table, Wilcox dipped the end of a cigar into a sniffer of brandy, then leaning back in his chair, lit the cheroot and blew a blue-white puff of smoke into the air. “If you remember our meeting at the annuity payments I told you the government, the Indian Agents and the traders were cheating the Sioux at the Redwood Agency. You might also recall the fact that I mentioned that the traders wanted the annuity payments made to them, not to the Sioux.

Well, that's exactly what happened. It seems that Manosapa and his chief's demanded the annuity from Galbraith. Naturally, the traders refused to give credit under those conditions. Evidently, they met, trying to resolve the problem, but the meeting failed in a conclusion that would have solved the situation. Apparently, bad blood began to rise in the Sioux men. In all probability some of the warriors got a taste of whiskey. The report that I'm getting over the telegraph is that four Braves went out hunting. More than likely they were drunk. In any event they killed five settlers. That was probably the spark that ignited the entire massacre. The report sent to me is that on the night of August the seventeenth, eighteen sixty two, the elders held a council and made the decision to attack all of the settlements throughout the Minnesota River Valley.

As for the number killed, it is only an estimate. As I told you earlier, some say five hundred, others say eight hundred. At this point my friend, I'm afraid there is more bad news. The authorities are saying that as many that were killed the same number were taken captive as slaves. I'm sorry Jim. I pray that your family and fiance' are safe.”

Jim sat in silence for a moment, then said, “Now you know why I must be going. They might need me. She might need me”.

“Of course, but you'd be no use to them tonight on a dark road with a tired animal. Rest here. Have a hearty breakfast in the morning, then go', suggested Wilcox.

“I guess you're right”, Jim answered.

“Of course I am. Now, come with me. We'll go into my study. There are a couple of things I want to give you”, Wilcox replied.

Both men left the table with Jim following his host. Walking into the study Jim noticed the aroma of gun oil and saddle soap. He noticed the leather covered chairs and sofa and the glass front gun cabinet.

Milford Wilcox pulled a gold, key chain from his trouser pocket, removed a key and unlocked the cabinet door. Opening the breakfront he took a step back. “Take a look at these Jim. This is more or less my passion. I enjoy the thrill of making a deal in business, nonetheless, collecting firearms and shooting gives me real joy. Sort of a hobby, if you will'.

Standing next to Wilcox, Jim looked at the various pistols, revolvers and rifles in the cabinet. “Very Impressive”, he said.

Wilcox reached into the locker and removed a revolver and holster. “Here, take this. Wear it all of the time. At least until things return to normal”, he said.

“Thanks Milford, but I don't know anything about pistols or revolvers. I shoot an old, flintlock Pennsylvania rifle when I hunt and I haven't hunted in over a year,” he replied.

Removing the revolver from the leather holster, Wilcox said, “This weapon came out in eighteen sixty. It's the Colt Army Revolver. It has a six shot cylinder and comes with a seven and a half inch barrel or an eight inch barrel. This is the eight inch barrel. It fires a forty four caliber projectile. The Navy model fires a thirty six caliber bullet. You can see that this piece is a cap and ball, using black powder. Some use a paper cartridge. This revolver uses caps. The thing to remember is that the powder charge is thirty eight grains.”

“Milford, I appreciate your offer, but I can't take your revolver and I sure as hell can't pay you for it”, said Jim.

Wilcox reached into the cabinet again and removed another, identical Colt forty four. “No one asked you to pay for it and I'd be bothered if you didn't accept my gift”.

“Well, since you put it that way and have another, I'll say thank you. I appreciate it”.

“Good, but we're not done yet. I want you to have this”, said Wilcox, removing another weapon from the cabinet.

“What is it?”, asked Jim.

“This is a model Springfield percussion, rifled, carbine. It fires a sixty nine caliber ball. With the barrel being only twenty six inches long it makes it easier to maneuver from either a saddle or a wagon seat”, Wilcox explained.

As Jim inspected the carbine Wilcox's butler entered the room. “I beg your pardon sir, but a telegram has just arrived”.

Milford Wilcox opened the envelope and read:

Sioux uprising continues stop. Buildings at

lower Agency burned stop. Co. B 5th Minnesota

Reg. Defeated at Redwood Ferry stop. Killing

and burning continues in Valley stop.

Wilcox turned to the butler and said,” Thank you Henry. There's no return message at this time. Then, he handed the telegram to Jim. After reading the cable Jim said, “I've got to go. There are those that need me”.

“I understand how you feel my friend, but if a company of militia couldn't stop the Sioux, what can you do?”, asked Wilcox.

“I know I've got to try to protect those I love”, Jim responded.

“And, I know that there's no stopping you. That's why I want you armed when you go back to the valley”, said Wilcox,

The next morning employees of Wilcox brought the hitched mule and wagon to the Wilcox house. Jim shook hands with Milford Wilcox and said, “Thank you Milford. I appreciate all that you have done for me, especially, the weapons”.

“I pray that you never have to use them. Stay in touch. I have lawyers and business agents in both Mankato and Ulm if they're still alive.

Use them to telegraph me if there is anything you need. Here is a list of their names and businesses', Wilcox replied as he handed a sealed envelope to Jim.

“Thanks, I'll do that. Now, I must be on my way”.

After climbing up in the wagon and taking a seat, Jim shook the reins and the mule started forward. James Wellington began the long, apprehensive journey back to his farm. As he traveled, his mind raced. Was his family safe? Was Virginia alright? Oh, how he wished the mule could go faster, the miles shorter. He began to pray, praying for those he loved and cared for.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

Aftermath

 

As he sat drinking hot tea from a metal cup, glowing embers in the fire made him again recall those eventful times. He thought again of those August days of eighteen sixty two and how it was as he neared the homes and farms of his neighbors. He had been alerted by the aroma of woodsmoke in the air carried to him on a summer breeze, Unlike the smell of burning wood from a cook stove the odor reeked of burnt timbers and tar. Something else was present in the air, the stench of burnt and rotting flesh.

When he came to Clyde Dillard's farm he stopped the mule and sat looking at the burnt, red, brick house. The doors and windows were gone. Black soot coated the window frames. He saw the dead animals in the fields, their bloated bodies drawing flies. In the sky vultures flew overhead waiting for him to pass, so that they could land and feast. There was nothing he could do so he got the mule moving again and as he neared his home a fear of what he might find began to torment him.

Finally, arriving at the homestead he stood, looking at the sight before him. The house was gone as was the barn and all of the other outbuildings, all burnt to the ground. The milk cow had been killed and was putrefying in the summer sun. He climbed down from the wagon and walked slowly to the pile of burnt timbers and furniture all of which had been part of his home. Then, he stopped and closed his eyes, holding in the scream that he wanted to release from his throat as he gazed upon the body of his mother. She was on her back with her eyes open and even though her skin had darkened with approaching decay he saw the blood on her face that had come from the crushed skull that had killed her.

Eventually, he forced himself to move. As he walked his eyes darted left, right, forward, looking, searching. He saw something blue and he headed for it. As he got near he realized that it was the remains of Ben Connors. Jim stood over the body and saw that the man had been scalped and his throat cut. “Well Ben, we won't have any more arguments, will we?”, he said aloud.

Jim then began to look for his sister, Amanda. It took awhile, but he finally found her near what use to be the hen house. She was naked from the waist down. It was apparent that she had been raped, then killed. Jim bent down and with tears in his eyes pulled down her skirt and covered her nakedness.

He spent the rest of the day digging three graves. Fortunately, the Sioux had no use for a shovel and he found one in the ashes of the collapsed tool shed. The handle was scorched, but the tool was still serviceable. Each grave was marked with a crude cross made from elm branches. When he placed the last cross into the ground he turned with tears in his eyes knowing that those in their graves were the last of his immediate family. He turned and stood silently, looking towards the Martin farm. He wanted to go there, wanted to find Virginia and as he muffled a sob he silently prayed that she was safe and well. Looking up to the sky he saw the on coming darkness as night began to fall. He also felt the fatigue in his body, a tiredness that was lodged deep in his bones and he wanted to rest, to sleep, hoping to awake from a disturbing, bad, nightmare. But, he knew what had happened was real and would not go away with the dawn.

Jim slept that night under the sour apple tree with the carbine next to his body. The Colt revolver, loaded and ready was close at hand.

With the dawn he fashioned a bridal made of rope and rode the mule bareback to the Martin farm.

The scene there was the same as the Dillard and Wellington farms. All of the buildings had been burnt to the ground. All of the livestock had either been butchered or run off. He found Tom and Martha Martin, both dead, both scalped and mutilated. There was no sign of Virginia. To him it meant that she might still be alive. Then, it came to him that she might be better off dead. He spent the morning and part of the afternoon digging two more graves and burying two more bodies.

Hunger gnawed at his stomach and grief gnawed at his mind. In addition worry for Virginia's safety tormented him. He had to find her. In his heart he knew that she was alive. Perhaps, just perhaps she was away when the Sioux war party came to her farm. Maybe she was in Mankato or Ulm. She had a cousin in Ulm. He had to know. What he needed was information and he mounted the mule again and with the carbine in one hand and the rope reins in the other began the ride to Mankato.

As he rode into town on the bare back of the mule he was met with mayhem. Men, both young and old walked quickly through the streets, all armed or seeking weapons to defend themselves. Women cried, other stood mutes as if in shock, fearful for their lives and those of their loved ones.

Jim maneuvered the mule through the crowds of people and when finally reaching the hitching post in front of the town hall dismounted and fashioned the rope reins to the rail. A man stood watching him. “Did you just come into town?” , the man asked.

“Yes, I came in on the south road”, Jim answered.

“Did you see anything? Did you see any Sioux?”, the man asked.

“No, all I've seen is death and destruction”, Jim replied.

“I see that you're armed. Good thing, you might need to be if they come here”, the stranger advised.

“Really? I don't think that the Indians would attack us here in Mankato”, said Jim.

“That's what they thought over in Ulm. The word here is that they burnt much of the town”, said the man.

Jim shook his head in disbelief. “Ulm? They attacked and burnt Ulm?, he asked.

“Yep, they sure did. A fella rode in here about two hours ago. He's in pretty bad shape. He told what happened in Ulm. Right now he's with the doctor”, the man replied as he walked away.

Jim Wellington checked the mule, then walked a short distance to the law office of Sidney Tozer, one of the contacts recommended to him by Milford Wilcox. When he got there he walked into the office and introduced himself to the lawyer. After shaking hands with Tozer Jim took a seat on a hard, wooden chair. He noticed the neat stack of papers, the dual ink wells, pens and blotting paper placed on the desk top. Then, he waited for the lawyer to speak.

“So Mister Wellington, you come to me in troubled times. Awful things are happening. Men, women and children killed by the savages. Awful, just awful. Nonetheless, life must go on. I am certain that the military will put a stop to this. Don't you agree?”, said Tozer.

“I sure hope so. However, it don't take a genius to figure out that if the Sioux attack Fort Ridgley, that pins down the army and the rest of the tribe can raid the settlements. We might be here for some time”, Jim suggested.

“Possible, very possible. Well all we can do is wait and see. In the meantime what can I do for you?”, asked Tozer.

“Right now, I have mule, two firearms and eight dollars to my name. I need a place to live, food to eat and information. Milford Wilcox told me to see you”, answered Jim.

“I see”, said Tozer as he opened a desk drawer and removed a telegram. This is a list of instructions from Mister Wilcox authorizing me to attend to your needs. As for a place of residence you will reside at Mister Wilcox's home, here in Mankato. Also, of course your personal needs will be addressed by the servant staff working there. You are offered the position of, of, let's call it the position of Watchman, Wilcox Enterprises, at the salary of five dollars a week. Will you fill that position?”

“I don't know anything about being a watchman. I'm a farmer and I never made a steady five dollars a week in my life that I know of”, said Jim.

“Allow me to explain, This is a temporary position to be filled during this crises with the Sioux uprising. After the threat subsides the position will be terminated by Mister Wilcox here in Mankato. Then, a new position will be offered. In the meantime you are to safeguard the property of Mister Wilcox, here in town', explained Tozer.

“How much property are we talking about?', asked Jim.

“The house. Mister Wilcox is aware of the flood of settlers entering Mankato from the farms and homesteads. The hotel is filled to capacity with women and children. The men will be sleeping on the streets and sidewalks tonight. The thought is that some toughs might break and enter, looking for lodging and also to steal. Therefore, he wants his assets protected. You he trusts”, said Tozer.

“That's mighty nice, but at this time I'm looking for information about Virginia Martin. I buried her parents. However, there's a chance that she might be in Ulm”, Jim replied.

“I'll see what I can find out for you”, said Tozer.

After receiving directions Jim rode the mule to the house owned by Wilcox. Unlike the mansion in St. Paul, this house was simple, unadorned and matched the basic style of the other homes on the street.

There was no work force, so to speak, just a cook, housekeeper and caretaker. In the backyard there was an outbuilding that could serve as a barn, so Jim placed the mule there.

When he entered the house two women introduced themselves, Harriet Aiken, a short, plump woman about fifty years old was the cook. Ethel Bush, tall, thin, with her hair parted in the middle and displaying black, bushy eyebrows was the housekeeper.

“Mister Barnes is in town. I sent him to the market. Lord only knows what the price of food will be now because of this uprising thing”, said Harriet Aiken.

“Well perhaps he will bring news when he returns”, Ethel Bush replied. “While we're waiting for him I’ll show you to your room. Mind you, it's nothing fancy. A bed. A bureau, wash bowl, pitcher and chamber pot. All of the necessities, but nothing more. It will be the same for the meals I'm afraid. Keep in mind that you are hired help and not a visitor', said the housekeeper as she led the way to the staircase.

It was one thirty in the afternoon when Edward Barnes returned from town. He came in the house through the backdoor into the kitchen and placed the groceries that the cook had ordered on the kitchen table.

“May I say, that it's about time Ed. There will not be two or three different lunches served in this house. Did you get my butter?”, asked Harriet.

“Yes, I got it, got almost the last of it as well. Alfred Hawkins said that the Barrow farm where he gets his milk, eggs and butter was burnt to the ground”, Ed Barnes answered.

“A lot of farms have been destroyed. I passed many of them on my way into town”, Jim interjected.

“You must be the new man. Mister Tozer sent an errand boy with a note telling us to expect you. My name is Ed Barnes, caretaker of this place here. Let me warn you. You are about to dwell with two of the most cantankerous women the good Lord ever put on earth”.

Jim stood up and shaking the man's hand said,”I'm Jim Wellington.

What's the latest news in town?”

Ed Barnes took a seat at the kitchen table. “I'm afraid it's all bad news. Stagecoach stations have been attacked. The northern Sioux are now attacking along the Canadian border. Steamboat and flatboat trade has completely stopped. Nothing is coming down river from St. Paul.

Another thing that is happening is that those that were lucky enough to escape and get away are still coming into Mankato. Most of them are women and children”.

Harriet Aiken placed four bowls on the kitchen table and then carried a pot of hot soup and ladle to where Ethel Bush, Ed Barns and Jim sat. She returned with a loaf of fresh baked bread and a dish of butter.

“Eat your fill people. It's vegetable soup this day and no meat. I'll be saving meat for suppers. No one knows when this mess will end and supplies will come to town”, she said as she took a seat at the table.

Jim took a slice of bread and buttered it. Turning his attention to Ed Barns he said, “Tell me about the people coming into town'.

“Like I said, they're mostly women and children. Them's the lucky one's. Story is that the Sioux have taken many, many captives. They say they kill the men and keep the young women and girls and you know what that means”, said Barnes.

“Mister Barnes! I'll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, particularly opinions such as you are inferring”, said an indignant, Ethel Bush.

“Damn it Ethel! The man asked me a question, Barnes responded.

“And, watch your filthy mouth”, the housekeeper retorted.

“All I said, was damn”,said Barnes.

“Exactly”,Ethel countered.

Harriet Aiken wiped her mouth with a napkin and turned her attention to Jim. Mister Wellington may I ask how you intend to feed your mule?”, she asked.

“Right now I expect he'll eat the grass in the backyard. In the meantime I'll buy him some fodder”, Jim answered.

“Fodder? Good luck. Ain't no hay or oats in these parts now”, Barnes mentioned.

“Well, I'm sure he'll find something”, Jim replied.

“The way things are going we might end up eating the mule”, said Harriet as she picked up her bowl and took it to the dry sink.

“The smart thing to do is take him down to Bradford's Livery. Sell

him. The Army is paying good money for horses and mules. Bradford will give you more than the Jack is worth. Of course, he'll make it up from the Army”, advised Barnes.

“I might just do that”, Jim responded.

“The days went by slowly. Jim would sit on the front porch in a rocking chair. He wore the holstered Colt on his hip while the loaded carbine rested across his knees. People passed by, but paid little attention to Jim or Wilcox's house. There wasn't enough grass in the backyard to sustain the mule. Getting up out of the chair, he walked into the house and told Ethel that he was going into town to sell the Jack. He then to the back yard, used the rope bridle again and rode the mule into the center of Mankato.

“Jim sold the mule to Milton Bradford and with the money in his pocket he walked to Kramer's General Store. Once inside he purchased a new shirt, blue in color and was just about ready to buy a new collar when an excited man entered shouting, “They were defeated! The Army was defeated! Beat by the Sioux! Beat by the Sioux!”, he said loudly.

Women in the store began to cry. Men left hurriedly. Jim paid for his purchase, watched the clerk wrap the new shirt in brown paper and string then went outside and began the walk to Sidney Tozer's office. It was there that he thought he would get the right information.

Walking into the law office of Sidney Tozer the lawyer looked up from the legal brief he was preparing. “Jim, I'm a little busy, is there something you need?”, he asked.

“I just need some information. What the hell is going on? The word on the street is that the Sioux has just got the better of the army”,

said Jim

“It's true. They did. At a place called Birch Coulee. One hundred and fifty men were engaged. The army sent out a party to bury those unfortunates that had been killed by the savages. The word I have is that thirteen soldiers were killed. Forty seven men were wounded. The Sioux lost two warriors. It took a relief column from Fort Ridgely to drive off the attackers,”said Tozer.

“Where did you get that information?”, asked Jim.

“From the newspaper office next door. Actually, from the copy boy. The paper has a telegraph and receives and also sends information from all over Minnesota. Most of the news is about the war caused by the succession of the Confederacy. Right now this Indian uprising is at the forefront”.

“Damn, Manosapa is raising hell up and down the river. It seems as though no one can stop him”, said Jim as he walked towards the door.

It's this rebellion by the South. The troops of Minnesota are off fighting somewhere. Our representatives are asking for help from President Lincoln. He has to honor that request. When that happens our troops will put down this uprising”.

“I hope so. I honestly hope so”,Jim replied.

When he returned to the house Jim sat on the front porch cleaning and oiling the carbine. Ethel bush came out and took a seat in a rocking chair and slowly put the chair in motion. “It is a lovely, autumn day Mister Wellington”, she said.

“Indeed it is Miss Bush. That it is, but the leaves on the trees are changing color already. That's a sign of an early frost and winter”, Jim replied.

“Oh, I forgot that you are a farmer and would know such things”.

“I was a farmer. The land is still there but the farm is gone. The house and barn burned down. My family is all dead. There's nothing there for me now”, Jim answered.

“Then what will you do?”, Ethel asked.

“Do? You mean for a living? I don't rightly know at this time. Somewhere, I have a fiance' I figure she's alive, being held against her will

wherever she is. I've got to go find her, bring her back home. After that together we'll decide the future”.

“And, if you don't find her?”

“Then, there is no future”, Jim answered ***************************************************

As the weeks of September passed the Sioux continued their raids on the white settlers both in the south central and northern parts of Minnesota. Military couriers were killed attempting to reach Pembina, North Dakota, St. Cloud Minnesota and Fort Snelling, where many of the settlers had taken refuge. Eventually, a relief column from Fort Abercrombie was able to get to Fort Snelling and escort the settler refugees to St. Cloud.

The citizens of Mankato thought of barricading the town and men with rifles continued to watch from roof tops for any sign of approaching Sioux, but none came. Finally, help arrived and the town and its people were safe.

General John Pope arrived in Minnesota with the third. Fourth, ninth and tenth Minnesota Volunteer Infantry Regiments. They would soon join the sixth and seventh regiments at a place called, Woods Lake.

A six pound cannon was deployed and after some brief fighting a charge was made and the Sioux were overwhelmed and defeated. The major part of the fighting was over by the end of the day, September 23, 1862.

With the end of hostilities, Jim went into the main part of town. He noticed the change in the people. Fear and anxiety was now absent from the expression that was on their faces days ago. Citizens now went about their usual routine. Men stood and talked about the battle with the Sioux, the war with the Confederacy and the income tax they were forced to pay in 1861 to support the Union. Women went shopping, many with small children in tow. The women complained about the prices of food and clothing.

Since he was in town Jim decided to head for the Law Office of Sidney Tozer. Now that the fear of the Sioux caused by the uprising was over he wanted to know what Milford Wilcox had in mind for him to do.

Tozer greeted him with a smile and asked him to take a seat in the chair in front of the desk. After Tozer sat down he looked at Jim and said, “I've got some news for you. First of all, since this Indian thing is over Milford will be arriving as soon as the first boat from St. Paul can come down river. That should be in a day or two. He will meet with you at the house. However, he will come here first as we have a few minor legal issues to go over. Next, and of the greatest interest to you is that I have some good news for you”.

“What kind of news?”, asked Jim.

“Surrendering Sioux have released two hundred and sixty nine, white American captives to the troops of General Sibley's command. Your fiance' could be one of them”.

“Where are they? Where's his command? Are the captives alright?”, asked Jim excitedly.

“Calm down now. Just calm down. They are at a place called, Camp Release. I have no knowledge of their condition, but they're alive. Let's hope that they are unharmed. My advice to you is to wait until Milford arrives. You might need his influence to bypass army and militia regulations”.

“Why? Just to ask about Virginia?”

“Suppose she's not among those at Camp Release. Wouldn't it be beneficial to sit in on the interrogations? Wouldn't it by wise to have someone next to you that can speak Sioux and ask the question that you might have? Do you understand?

“Yes”, answered Jim.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Four

Camp Release

Near the first week of October 1862 Milford Wilcox disembarked from the river boat, Sara Dell, stepping ashore at what was the remains of the Redwood Indian Agency. He stood and looked at the burnt buildings, one of which had been his warehouse. He walked slowly to where the home and office of Thomas Galbraith had been. All that was left now was a pile of burnt logs and cinders. A slow moving breeze passed over the scorched timbers raising the black and white ashes into the air and they blew away, turning, spinning and finally settling in a different location.

Wilcox shook his head in disbelief then turned his head at the sound of a horse drawn buggy and saw Sidney Tozer approaching him.

After shaking hands Tozer placed Wilcox's carpetbag on the back of the buggy securing it with leather straps and brass buckles. Milford Wilcox took a seat and Tozer got the horse and buggy moving. “Did you see what they did to my property?”, asked Wilcox.

“Yes sir, however, I have taken no action waiting to talk to you first”, Tozer answered.

“Good, don't be too hasty. There will of course be compensation from the government. I want to wait until the right time comes before I file for damages. Nonetheless, should the government's offer not meet my expectations, then, and only then will you file the necessary brief and we will sue. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir”.

“Alright now, how is Jim Wellington?”, asked Wilcox.

“Right now he is itching to get to Camp Release. He want to find his sweetheart, a girl named Virginia Martin”, Tozer answered.

“I can't say that I blame him. I would do the same. Well, I hope he finds her or eventually gives up. I have a lot of plans for this area and I need his expertise”, said Wilcox.

“Expertise? He's a poor dirt farmer. What can he tell you, particularly when it comes to business?”

“You mentioned it. He is a farmer and a damn good one too. After this Indian uprising and massacre those farmers that are left will be leaving in droves. Combine them with the one's the Sioux killed and wiped out that leaves a lot of farms that can be purchased at the right price, my price. Now, a young man like Jim Wellington who is familiar with the farms and farmers in this valley can tell me which farms grow the best corn or wheat. He can also tell me things like, how fertile is the soil? If corn and wheat won't grow, will tobacco? Let me tell you something Sidney, this Civil War has hurt the southern supply of tobacco. Europe will be screaming for it soon. Think of it Sidney, a farm conglomerate. On those farms where crops won't grow we'll raise cattle, hogs and sheep. The river is right next door and connects with the Mississippi, making shipping easy.

So now you should understand just how important Jim Wellington is to me”.

“That evening at supper Wilcox explained his entire plan to Jim. “So you see my friend you will be very instrumental in the success of my venture. Needless to say you will be well compensated. Let's say twenty five dollars a week. In addition you will continue to live here, only now as master of the house, unless I'm here of course”.

“Right now Milford all I can concentrate on is the where about's of Virginia and her conditions. I want to go to Camp release and find out what information there is. Hell, she might be waiting there for her family or me”, Jim responded.

“Patience Jim, patience. We will go there tomorrow. If there is any problem with the authorities I will contact General Sibley. Since he is the former Governor he owes me more than a few favors. Now, that that's settled, what do you think of my idea of growing tobacco here in the valley?”

“Tell me again what you know about tobacco and exactly how you intend to cultivate it”, said Jim.

“Basically, as I see it the most important thing is that we will need at least sixty five to seventy frost free nights for the plants to survive. This is the ideal place in Minnesota to grow such a crop. Temperatures here in the valley are mild. We plant the seeds indoors. When they are four to six weeks old we transplant them in the fields. Ninety to one hundred and twenty days later the plants mature and we harvest” Wilcox explained.

 

“You haven't mentioned labor. You'll need field hands and experienced field hands at that. Where are they going to live? Then, you'll need drying sheds, a place to cure the leaf. In addition plants need light, particularly sunlight to grow. Where will your light source come from if your seedlings are indoors?”,asked Jim.

“At first, I want to plant the seeds in clay pots and place the pots in carts. We wheel the carts out into the sunlight by day and return them to the barn at night. The ancient Roman's used this method to grow cucumbers. We might also use cold frames and if push comes to shove, greenhouses. I've seen them in New York City”, said Wilcox.

“Seems to me your tobacco venture is going to be mighty expensive Milford”.

“You let me worry about expenses. Right now I need you to tell me about the history of these local farms. Will you do it?”, asked Wilcox.

“I'll do it until I hear something about Virginia. If I hear where she is or might be I'm going after her. You have to understand my position Milford”.

“Alright, tomorrow we'll go to Camp Release, Hopefully, we'll find your fiance' there. However, don't get your hopes up”, said Wilcox.

“She's alive Milford. I can feel it.”

“For your sake I hope so my friend”, Wilcox replied.

The next day the two men traveled on horseback, following the Minnesota River to where the command of Henry Sibley camped and cared for the captives released by the Sioux.

As they rode into camp passing the sentries they saw the militia, army and civilian doctors tending to the men women and children. Some children were crying, orphaned now by the loss of both parents. Women either stood or sat in shock, a vacant look in their eyes as they tried to shut out the memories of what the Sioux had done to them. Men stood in silence wishing that they had done more to save and protect their families.

Passing by the group of survivors who were now free, Jim suddenly realized that the total of those assembled was much smaller than he had been told. Instead of two hundred and sixty nine survivors there were only one hundred and seven. A mistake had been made by someone counting one hundred and sixty two mixed races as captives.

The two men tied their horses to the hitching rail, Jim began walking towards a group of woman while Wilcox headed for Henry Sibley's tent. When Jim reached the place where the women and children sat, most wrapped in blankets he began asking for information. “Virginia Martin? Has anyone seen or know anything about Virginia Martin?”, he said over and over as he walked through the group.

Behind the women and children eight men stood silently. Jim looked at the men and saw a man he knew, John Dickerson. He approached the man slowly and upon reaching him said,” John, it's me, Jim Wellington. How are you John?”.

Dickerson turned his head slowly and with red, bloodshot eyes, said with a faint voice, “How am I? How am I? I've lost everything Jim. My wife, my boy, my two girls. Saw them all raped and butchered. Saw my home burnt to the ground. Saw my animals slaughtered. I was in the woods, cutting fence posts when they came. There must have been fifty or sixty of them. There was nothing I could do. I keep telling myself that, but now I know that I should have fought and died with them”, said Dickerson as tears ran down his cheeks.

Jim turned and walked away. He saw Milford Wilcox leaving the command tent and walked towards him. When they met Wilcox said,”Well I met with Henry. I asked about any news about Virginia. He has no information about a Virginia Martin. But, don't despair my friend, I have arranged for us to sit in on the interrogations of the Sioux prisoners. Perhaps we may learn something. However, keep in mind that five hundred Sioux warriors and sixteen hundred women and children have been taken prisoner”.

“It's worth a chance”, said Jim.

“Also, I've made arrangements for us to sit in on the trials when they go to court”, Wilcox added.

“Good, I want to be there”, Jim replied.

“Well then, if my information is correct the interrogations are being conducted in that tent over there by that large cottonwood tree”, said Wilcox, pointing the way with his walking stick.

When they reached the tent they were met by armed guards who stood watching fifty Sioux men who sat on the bare ground. All were in chains. One by one they were taken into a large, canvas shelter where they were questioned by a Captain of the militia and a civilian who acted as interpreter and spoke the Sioux language fluently.

Wilcox handed a sentry a signed pass that had been given to him by General Sibley. After reading the permission slip the soldier permitted the two men to enter. Wilcox and Jim entered, then stood quietly listening to the proceedings.

The Militia Captain sat on a camp stool at a makeshift desk and the civilian interpreter sat next to him. A young, Sioux man approximately twenty years old stood between to uniformed militiamen both armed with rifles and fixed bayonets. The Captain looked up from the papers on the desk in front of him and asked, “What is your name?” When there was no answer the interpreter asked the question again in Sioux. The Sioux warrior touched his chest and said, “Sunkmanitu Tanka”.

“He says his name is Wolf”, replied the civilian.

“I wish to speak with you”, said the officer. The interpreter spoke to the man again in his native language.

“Tell him that many people have been killed. Men, women and children have been murdered and mutilated. Homes and buildings have been burned and animals slaughtered, ordered the Captain.

When the interpreter was finished talking the Sioux prisoner did not answer or comment.

“Did you do these things?”, asked the Captain.

After listening to the civilian the warrior spoke. “What did he say?”, asked the officer.

“He wants to know if you are hungry. He wants to know if you have plenty of food and much to eat. He says, that his stomach aches day after day from being hungry. There is no bread. There is no beef”, said the interpreter.

“Did he wage war and kill white people?', asked the Captain, aggravated now with the warrior's answers.

When the civilian was finished speaking the Sioux stood with a smile on his face,

“You see. That's his answer. Get him out of my sight”, ordered the Captain.

Wilcox and Wellington stood for the next two hours watching and listening as Sioux men were brought into the tent, one at a time. When they were questioned, some answered. Others did not, refusing. Some remained calm and silent. There were also those who were defiant. One even issued a war cry as he was led away as an answer to the inquiry.

Before the next prisoner could be brought in Wilcox stood and interrupted the proceedings. “Excuse me Captain. We are in dire need of information on one, Virginia Martin. She is eighteen years old with strawberry blond hair. Might you ask these prisoners if they know of such a woman and her where a bouts, please”.

The militia Captain gave Wilcox a stern look then, as an after thought cleared his throat and nodded his head. When the next warrior stood before him the questioning continued and as it neared the end the interpreter, speaking in Sioux said, “We look for a woman with yellow hair”. The prisoner shook his head and said, “I don't know”.

Wilcox turned to Jim and in a low voice so as not to be heard said,

“This is a complete waste of time. Even if just one of them knows anything about your Virginia he won't admit it. His loyalty belongs to the warrior society that I'm sure he is a member. He would be forced to leave the tribe if he revealed any such information. I suggest that we leave now and explore other possibilities and channels of information.”

Back at the house Wilcox and Jim sat on the front porch. Wilcox could see the signs of worry in the expression on the younger mans face.

“Jim, I know that you're anxious for some information, but you have to understand that on one hand you are dealing with a bunch of savages and on the other hand a group of survivors. The savages won't tell you anything and the survivors are still in shock and worrying about their selves and their loved ones. I'm very sure that many of them and in particular the women, don't want to recall what happened”.

“Someone, somewhere, knows or saw something”, Jim responded.

“I'm sure, but until we find that missing piece of information, I suggest that we both get to work. In your case work will be beneficial. It will take your mind off of your problems”, said Wilcox.

“How can I keep my mind on work when all I think about is Virginia?”

Jim replied.

“Listen, go to work for me and I’ll hire a Pinkerton Detective to seek and find concrete facts and information', suggested Wilcox.

“I can't ask you to do that, Milford”.

“I'm sorry. It is already done. Sidney is telegraphing them today”.

“Then, I thank you Milford. I really appreciate it”.

“You are quite welcome. Now, I propose that we rent a horse and buggy tomorrow and ride out and look at the farms. I need you to identify the rightful owners, the crops they successfully grew and the soil conditions. What do you say?”

“I say, let's get to work”, Jim answered.

The next day Milford Wilcox brought the horse drawn carriage to a halt in the yard of a now, abandoned farm. Like most of the places they would inspect this day the family house and home had been burnt to the ground. Jim stepped down from the carriage and stood looking around as if expecting to see the rightful owner appear out of the ashes.

“This farm belonged to Albert Porter. It is about twenty acres. He grew mostly wheat. Of course he had a large vegetable garden for himself and family. If you look yonder, you'll see some cabbage still growing”, said Jim pointing.

“I see. Tell me about the condition of the soil”, said Wilcox.

Jim bent over and took a handful of earth, crumbled it between his palms and released it, allowing it to fall back to the ground. “What's there to tell? It's fertile. Anything will grow here, anything that will grown in Minnesota, that is”.

“Did Mister Porter have any relatives or heirs?”, asked Wilcox.

“None that I know of”, Jim answered.

“Twenty acres you say? Interesting,” said Wilcox.

Jim climbed back into the carriage. “We'll go to Sam Peterson's place. I heard that his daughter Rebecca is missing. Sam and his wife were killed, much in the same manner as my family. The thought here a bout is that Becky is a captive somewhere”.

“What did this Peterson fellow grow?”, asked Wilcox.

“Corn mostly. Sam wasn't the best farmer in the valley, but he tried. Growing corn came easy to him, so that's what he planted, year after year”, Jim explained.

For the entire month of October, 1862 Jim examined the now neglected farms and homesteads of Blue Earth, Nicollet and Le Sueur Counties. At the same time Sidney Tozer researched property deeds, mortgages, liens and bank loans, all associated with the properties Milford Wilcox was interested in buying. These were the property of the rightful owners who were either killed or had abandoned the farms. When he could and the price was right Tozer bought these properties for Wilcox often paying less than the original real estate price.

By November 1862 the citizens of Minnesota were crying for justice and revenge. They wanted the five hundred Sioux warriors captured in various battles executed. The local and state newspapers supported their cause and politicians wanting their vote sided in with the people.

Seated in an overstuffed chair Milford Wilcox read the local newspaper. He looked up from the printed page when Jim entered the room. “Ah, Jim. I think you might find this interesting. It says here in the Mankato Record that the citizens of Minnesota are seeking the execution of the Sioux that have been captured. At the same time I have information that a new organization has been formed to deal with matters concerning the uprising. I believe it's called, “The Knights Of the Forrest”. Some say that it's a secret society. I'm not so sure. In any case, I'll have Sidney either join or place someone in their membership so I'll know exactly what they're doing”.

Jim took a seat in a chair across from Wilcox. “The word that I'm hearing is that the people want the Indians out. Not just the Sioux mind you, but all Indians. That includes the Winnebago’s in Blue Earth County”, said Jim.

“I can understand their reasoning. Some say that the Winnebago joined in the uprising”, Wilcox replied.

“I doubt it. However, it's no secret that the white's never wanted the Winnebago tribe in Minnesota. As far as I know the military hasn't produced any evidence that they were involved in the uprising. The truth is there are those who want the land the tribe was forced to settle. If you want my opinion the people who should be on trial are the traders, Indian Agents and The Bureau Of Indian Affairs. They are the one's responsible for the uprising, death and destruction that followed”, said Jim.

“I find that I must somehow agree with you. Unfortunately, the Indian is a race of people in America that has a culture with both feet stuck in the stone age. At the moment because of this war between the Union and the Confederacy all minds here are for a victory for the northern cause. However, once there is peace and reconstruction the power of industrial and financial investors will make demands. Railroads will seek to expand. They are quite content at the moment moving troops, equipment and supplies and getting paid by Congress. But, they look to the future and the Indian is in the way. Prime land, land for white settlement is now occupied by the Indian. They have to go. The future for the United States is one nation from the East coast to the West coast and no Indian can stop it”, Wilcox explained.

“That don't make it right. They will fight”, said Jim.

“And, they will lose. Right now the Union Army is the largest army in the world. So large my friend that Canada and Mexico worry about what happens after this war. Oh, I'm sure the Indian will fight. I even believe in their cause and their right to exist. However, although they can fight, they can't vote and politicians will pass laws and treaties that will exploit them.

And, while you and I are here conversing the people of Minnesota are screaming for revenge. They want three hundred Sioux prisoners hanged, executed, Wilcox stated.

“The Sioux that committed those rapes and murders left Minnesota sometime ago. They went into the Dakota Territory. Some went north, other south. Hell, by now many of them could be in Montana Territory”,

said Jim.

“Well, that may be. We'll just have to wait and see what the trials bring. Maybe that way we can acquire some information about your Virginia”, Wilcox answered.

**************************

In early December, 1862 a military tribunal assembled to seek justice for the crimes orchestrated by the Sioux. Jim and Wilcox took their seats in the makeshift courtroom. One by one the each of the three hundred and three Sioux prisoners were brought before the members of the tribunal. All were charged with rape and murder. The court proceedings were not explained to the Sioux. No accused were represented by a lawyer and the entire procedure for each defendant took five minutes or less.

What did matter was the testimony of the witnesses. One was Justina Kroger who under oath told the tribunal, “Mister Masipost had two daughters, young ladies, intelligent and accomplished. These the savages murdered most brutally. The head of one of them was after wards found severed from the body, attached to a fish hook and hanged from a nail. His son, a man of twenty four years was also killed”.

Another witness, swore to tell the truth and testified, “The daughter of Mister Schwant who was pregnant was cut open, the child taken alive from the mother and nailed to a tree. The thirteen year old son of Mister Schwant was beat to death by the Indians. The baby, nailed to the tree struggled for sometime after nails had been driven through it. This occurred on the forenoon of Monday, August 18, 1862.”

A loud clatter from the voices of those assembled in the room caused the convening officer to repeatedly bang his gavel on the table as he demanded silence and threatened to removed all persons from the courtroom. Wilcox leaned his head closer to Jim and said, “That was some very damning testimony”.

They waited until the last Sioux warrior was convicted by the tribunal, then they left. Outside, Wilcox shook his head. “There was nothing inside that room that even resembled a fair trial”, he said.

“What happens now?”, asked Jim.

“Oh, I'm sure some do good people will plead for the lives of the Sioux. To no avail of course. Right now the blood runs hot in the veins of the white people of Minnesota. The only thing preventing a lynch mob is the military. The Sioux will hang Jim. That much is certain.”

“All three hundred of them?”, asked Jim.

“Three hundred and three, to be exact”, Wilcox answered.

A week later the citizens of Mankato took to the streets protesting the leniency given to two hundred and sixty four Sioux men sentenced to hang.

“What happened?”, asked Jim.

“It is just what I predicted. Henry Whipple got to President Lincoln and asked for mercy”, Wilcox answered.

“Who is Henry Whipple?”

“He is the Episcopal Bishop of Minnesota”.

“Does this still mean that thirty nine Sioux will still be hanged?”

“Yes, the day after Christmas”.

During the next week the streets of Mankato were filled with people.

Some were there preparing for Christmas while most stood and watched the construction of the gallows. It was built with a square platform. Holding to tradition, thirteen steps led up to the floor boards where thirty eight trap doors had been fashioned by the workmen. The sound of the wooden flaps dropping and banging against the framework of the scaffold made a clapping noise as the execution apparatus was tested.

On December 26, 1862 mounted cavalry behind armed infantry formed a perfect square around the gallows. Behind the military stood the people. Some were the victims of the atrocities. Some were the survivors.

Most were the curious or revenge seekers.

Jim and Milford Wilcox sat in a rented carriage. As he looked at the crowd gather there and the blue, uniformed military Jim also noticed that the American flag had been hoisted to the top of the flag pole. “The only thing missing is a brass band”, he said to Wilcox.

“Here they come. Here come the Sioux”, said Sidney Tozer standing next to the carriage.

Wilcox slowly got to his feet then standing in the horse drawn vehicle so he could see the approaching prisoners said, “I count thirty eight. What happened?”, he asked Tozer.

“I heard this morning that one of them had received a reprieve, but I didn't believe it”, answered Sidney.

Thirty eight Sioux prisoners walked up the thirteen steps to the gallows. Each man was then placed in position standing under a rope noose that swayed back and forth in the winter breeze. The noose was placed over their heads then tightened against their necks. Those presiding in the operations stepped back. When this occurred the people assembled to witness the mass execution became silent. Somewhere in the crowd an infant cried, someone else coughed. It was the last sounds that the convicted heard as the trap doors beneath their feet suddenly opened and they fell, falling feet first towards the ground, but not reaching it as the noose around their necks stopped them with a sudden, abrupt halt. That halt snapped necks or strangled those that had missed a swift and merciful death.

Then, it was over. Those on foot began to leave. Horse drawn carriages and wagons tuned slowly and made their way through the crowd. Sergeants and commissioned officers of the military barked orders to the men in ranks. Some troops marched off, others fell out of formation, being dismissed, their duty done for the day. Beneath the wooden platform of the gallows thirty eight, dead, Sioux warriors were cut down and separated from the rope that killed them and their bodies were placed in wagons.

The remaining convicted Sioux men were kept in prison. Sixteen hundred women, children and old men were sent to an internment camp on Pike Island where slum conditions and disease would take its toll.

On the afternoon of the next day a cold, winter, wind blew in from the north scattering what dry leaves remained on the front yards of the homes in Mankato. Milford Wilcox and Jim sat in front of a banked fire that gave off just enough heat to make the room comfortable. Wilcox sat reading one of the two local newspapers, “The Mankato Record” and the “Independent”. He was more concerned about the war that was being fought in and around Virginia, and the Union losses the army was experiencing then the glaring headlines and articles about the recent hangings. Suddenly there was a loud knocking on the front door. Jim got up out of his chair and after going to the door, opened it, seeing Sidney Tozer standing there. “I've got news Jim. I've got news”, said Tozer.

Both men walked into the living room. “News? What news?”, asked Wilcox looking up from the newspaper he held in his hands.

“The Pinkerton Agency sent this telegram. They say that their information is that on August eighteen, Virginia Martin was taken captive by a Sioux named Matosapa or Black Bear. Matosapa and those with him left Minnesota after the raid. They then traveled into the Dakota Territory

with their captives, stolen horses and contraband. There is no further information relating to the condition of the woman known as Virginia Martin. It is assumed that she is physically, well.'

“Did he go north or south?”, asked Wilcox.

“They don't say”, Tozer answered.

“I'm betting south. From the Martin Farm to the south of the Dakota Territory it is almost a straight line”, said Jim.

“Could be, but what if he figured that anyone would make that same conclusion and he headed north, if for no other reason then to buy time and throw off the army?” , Wilcox suggested.

“If, suppose, maybe, I say he went south and so am I”, said Jim.

“Don't be too hasty. Take the time to develop a plan”, offered Wilcox.

“Milford, she's out there somewhere and he's got her. I've got to go”, Jim responded.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

Deputized

 

Milford Wilcox paced the room, walking back and forth, almost frustrated with the fact that he couldn't get Jim Wellington to understand that to go into the Dakota Territory alone was not only wrong, it was stupid.

“Tell me, besides knowing that they lived along the Minnesota River, what else do you know about the Sioux?”. Asked Wilcox.

“Jim didn't answer.

Turning to Sidney Tozer, Wilcox said, “You see Sidney. His answer is that he has no answer. Because he doesn’t know a damn thing about the tribe. He has no idea what it will be like in the Territory. Cold, snow, rain and the heat of summer and thirst. Hell, I bet he's not even had a fistfight in his life. And, he wants to go marching into the Dakota's like Prince Charming so he can rescue the fair maiden. You idiot”, he said turning his attention again to Jim who sat silently in a stuffed chair. Jim started to say something, but was immediately interrupted by Wilcox.

“Let's say you do find her and even kill those who took her. It's been nearly four months since they captured her. She's not the same Jim.

I wish she was, but everyone in this town and county can assume what has happened to her. Do you want to bring her back here where everyone will point their fingers and talk behind her back knowing what the Sioux warrior did to her night after night. Is that what you want for her? Where will you look for her? The tribes are constantly on the move. They follow game, buffalo, elk, deer and good water. Looking for her will be like looking for fly shit in black pepper.”

“It doesn’t make any difference to what you say Milford. I'm going. There's a hell of a lot of land out there. I don't have to come back to Minnesota. Once I find her we'll just keep going. Maybe California or Oregon', said Jim.

“Alright go. Go and be damned, but use your head. Henry Sibley is riding out of here in a couple of months. He's mounting a campaign against the Sioux in the Dakota's. Ride with him. That way there's plenty of men to help you. In each village he takes there will be women and children who can supply you with information. There may even be white, women captives that know something, some small bit of evidence that might help you”, Wilcox suggested.

“I doubt if Colonel Sibley will allow a civilian and a farmer to boot to tag along with him', said Jim.

“No he won't, but I think a deputy sheriff of this county, say a deputy sheriff armed with a legal warrant seeking the arrest and rendition of. What did you say that Indians name was?', asked Wilcox.

“Matosapa”, Tozer answered.

“Seeking the arrest and rendition of Matasopa, wanted for burning my property at the Indian Agency might convince Henry Sibley to allow that man to travel with his unit. Particularly when Henry owes me a few political favors”, Wilcox continued.

“Alright, if you can arrange it, I'll do it your way”, said Jim.

“Excellent! Sidney, go to the court house and have the judge issue a warrant. A legal warrant and take Jim with you and have him sworn in as a deputy”, Wilcox shouted after Tozer.

“What proof do we have that Matosapa burned your warehouse?”, asked Tozer standing at the door.

“What proof does the law have that he didn't?', Wilcox responded.

During the winter months Jim prepared for the expedition that would be led by Colonel Sibley. First, he met with Henry Sibley who wasn't too impressed with the fact that Jim would be just another civilian in the way during this campaign. Nonetheless, when presented with the fact that Jim's purpose of riding with the Minnesota Calvary was to arrest and bring back to Blue Earth County a Sioux, designated as a criminal, he relented emphasizing that Jim was to provide a mount, tack, weapons, food and shelter for himself.

The fact that Jim need a quality horse, one that could travel miles over open prairie along with a pack horse presented a problem. At that time the good horse were needed by the Union Army. After renting a horse and carriage from the livery stable he rode out with an interpreter to where the Mdenakanton's, a tribe of Indians that fought with the settlers had a small herd of horses.

As he walked slowly around the corral, looking, hoping to see one, particular animal that would be strong and healthy enough to endure the long, days, weeks, perhaps months of travel he noticed a Cayuse roan.

When the horse was brought out of the corral Jim inspected the animal. Looking first at its teeth, then each hoof, its coat, the eyes. Satisfied that the horse was healthy he then asked, “Has the horse been broken for riding?”

“Yes”, came the answer.

Jim stepped back to estimate the size of the animal. He judged it to be about fifteen hands. Not too large a horse, but about the right size for a Cayuse. He then picked a large, jenny mule from the herd. “Alright, let's talk price”, said Jim.

The Mdenakanton man then thought for a moment then pointed to a saddle, blanket and bridle. Jim walked over and inspected the tack. It was used, but not worn. “How much for everything, horse, mule and tack?”,he asked.

“He wants three hundred dollars”, said the interpreter.

“Tell him I'll give him two”, Jim responded.

“Tympanum”, said the interpreter.

After thinking over the offer the Indian nodded his head in agreement.

As he placed the tack on the back of the carriage and was about to hitch the horse and mule to the rear of the buggy an old, Mdenakanton woman walked up to him, smiled and said, “Le mita pila sica si”. Then she walked away.

Jim asked the interpreter, “What did she say?”

“She said, Many thanks, Bad Foot”.

“Oh, she noticed my limp. She may be old, but she still has the eyes of a hawk”, said Jim as he climbed up into the carriage.

 

********************

At the end of June, 1863 the Minnesota Column of Calvary left there their home state, walking their horse through the throngs of people. The citizens were there to give the men under Colonel Sibley's command an appreciative send off. The soldiers smiled and waved. Henry Sibley, removed his hat and turning his head left, then right acknowledged those in the crowd.

Jim shook hands with Milford Wilcox. “Now, I hope you find that girl of yours. Mind you, it won't be easy. Henry is taking this column out to punish the Sioux. Knowing the Indian he won't sit and take it. There will be war and possibly many battles. Use your head and don't do anything foolish. I'll see you when you get back”, said Wilcox.

“Thanks for everything Milford. I hope to find her”, said Jim, speaking loudly as the local band began to play, “The Girl I Left Behind Me”.

Jim climbed up into the saddle and nudged the Cayuse forward. Reaching the rear of the column he took his place behind the last supply wagon. The line began to move and Jim began the journey to find the girl that he loved.

Two days later Sibley's command rode out on to the grassland of the Dakota Territory. The prairie was a yellow color. Here and there some green grass grew, still unaffected by the heat of day and the lack of rain. Small, rolling hills broke up the view of the horizon and Ponderosa pines grew, some in scattered locations. In other places large stands appeared dark in the distance. Shortly after noon they traveled past a large slump block, where at one time the soil around the solid rock now large and standing erect slid away and down from the stone. In the distance, pronghorn antelope grazed. Prairie flowers and barley grasses grew and at time the Cayuse walked through tall growths of wild sunflowers the yellow flora reach the horses belly.

The scouts of the Minnesota Volunteers rode out each day going in different directions looking, searching for signs of the Sioux, but finding nothing day after day.

With the men, horses and mules needing a rest Sibley made camp near a running creek. There the animals were led to drink and the barrels attached to the sides of the supply wagons were filled. As the sunset, cooking fires were started and began to blaze. Sentries were posted to guard the site and doubled where the horse herd was located.

Jim looked out at the grassland, seeing a prairie dog village in the distance. A lone coyote searched for a meal and the available daylight began to diminish. As it did the warmth of the day dwindled and the cold air over the land made its way into the on coming night. He felt the chill at the back of his neck and pulled the collar of the short, wool coat up to ward off the breeze as he knelt and built his cooking fire. From his canteen he filled a tin cup and heated the water. When the water began to boil he cut two pieces of beef jerky, placed the dried meat into the steaming liquid and created a type of jerky soup. With the hot pottage he munched a few, dry, crackers.

After his supper Jim walked to the edge of the creek. Here he washed his cup and filled his canteen. First making sure he was upstream from where the horses had been watered. As he turned to leave he saw a tall man approaching the arroyo. “Evening”, said the man. In the fading light Jim recognized the man as one of the scouts.

“Good evening”, Jim responded.

The scout offered his hand and as the two men shook hands they introduced themselves to each other. “My names Abner Dooley”, said the man. “Jim Wellington”, said Jim. “So they tell me that you fella's haven't found any sign of the Sioux”, Jim continued.

“Oh we've found sign, but old sign. Camp fires used about two months ago. Antelope bones with knife marks, things like that. Nothing recent however", said Dooley.

“Maybe we're on a wild goose chase”, offered Jim.

“No, they're out there somewhere. Just a matter of time before we run into them. I notice that you're not in uniform. I figure you to be a news reporter. Am I right?”, asked Dooley changing the subject.

“Nope, I'm just a deputy trying to serve a warrant on a Sioux” Jim explained.

“Mind if I ask you the name of the Indian you're after?”

“He goes by the name, Matosapa”.

“Black Bear? Never heard of him. What's he wanted for?”

“I figure he killed my family, burnt my house to the ground and took my fiance' captive. He also is believed to have killed other settlers and burned private property”, said Jim.

As the two men walked towards the encampment Dooley said,”Listen, I've got a good fire going. The coffee pot is still hot and half full. How about joining me for a cup and we can pass the time jawing. I'm interested in this Matosapa fella. Maybeso, I'll run into him sometime”,

Jim sat on the cold, hard ground. The hot coffee in the tin cup warmed his fingers and as he sipped the brew he felt the warmth of the fire. He sat looking over the rim of the cup at Abner Dooley, wondering about him, wanting to know more about the man.”How did you become a scout?”, asked Jim.

Dooley seemed to be taken by surprise at the question. “Damn if I know. Maybeso because I know the tribes. Not all of them mind you, but enough about the one's we're looking for. I know the Crow, the Sioux, Cheyenne. Lived with the Crow and the Sioux at one time. Spent an entire winter with the Crow. So, to answer you question I can read sign that they leave in the earth when they cross over it. I can speak their language. In particular, Sioux. So because of these traits, they pay me a good dollar”, answered Abner.

“Mind if I ask you just how you gained all of this experience?”, Jim inquired.

“Not at all. Left home when I was seventeen Went into the Rockies to be a trapper. Didn't like working for the fur companies. So I struck out on my own. Way I see it I went into the mountains in 1850 and by 1851 I was an independent business man', said Abner with a chuckle.

“I figure you to be a mighty fine trapper”, said Jim.

“What makes you think so?”

“You still got your hair”, Jim replied.

Dooley laughed. I was a fair trapper. I liked the life, the solitude, the wilderness. There be many beautiful sights in them rocky mountains Jim Wellington. Beautiful sights”, answered Dooley.

“Why did you leave?” asked Jim.

“Truth be told. Demand for fur, particularly beaver ran out. Other reason was I lost my Crow wife to a Sioux war party.”

“So, you married an Indian girl”, said Jim.

“Yep. In English her name was Graceful Bird. On the day we hitched up I moved into her mother's tipi. That's a Crow tradition. Crow women build large lodges in order to house large families, they also rule the roost”.

“How long were you married?”

“Three years. One day she left with some of the other women to visit relatives in another village. About half way there the Sioux found them. They killed them all after raping and butchering them”.

“Is that why you scout?”, asked Jim.

“Not really. Hell, I'm damn near fifty years old. Too old to do manual labor, like farming. Thought about California back in forty nine. It finally came down to my needs and they be, three square meals a day, payday every month, a pint of whiskey now and then and laying up with a whore, be she white, black or red once or twice a year. Besides, there's the fact that I'm one lazy bastard”, answered Abner as he tossed the dregs of his coffee into the fire. “I'll tell you something tho. Killing a Sioux warrior kinda eases the pain of loosing her”.

“Well, guess I'll call it a night”, said Jim.

Abner Dooley picked up his canteen twisted off the cap and took many swigs of water. “Indian trick. If you want to get up early you drink a lot of water before going to bed. Needing to piss wakes you and you're up and about. The General ain't allowing any bugle calls until we find the Sioux. So, no reveille in the morning”.

“Good night Abner”

“Good night Jim Wellington”.

The next morning pink clouds colored by the sunrise drifted slowly over and outlined the tall grass in the distance. After breakfast the troopers walked their mounts down to the creek and let them drink their fill. At the same time many of the men filled their canteens. Jim looked around for Abner Dooley, but did not see him. Later, by the cook wagon he learned that all of the civilian scouts had been in the saddle before sun up.

Horses were saddled and mules hitched to supply wagons. The command, “Forward!” was given and the Minnesota Calvary Of Volunteers began to move. As usual Jim took his place at the end of the long, moving line. They traveled now through the grassy hills of the Dakota Territory. The once, flat, prairie was now undulated by the grass covered mounds and knolls. The pink clouds of the morning turned to white and moved slowly in the blue sky. As the sun climbed higher over the horizon the heat of the morning increased as men and animals made their way mile after mile.

Jim dismounted and removed the wool coat he wore to thwart the morning chill. Folding the garment he then tied it behind his saddle using strips of rawhide. Mounted again he nudged the Cayuse forward and as he did he began recounting the days he had been in the saddle on this expedition. It seemed to him that it was nearly three weeks ago that they had left Fort Ridgely. Almost three weeks and no sign of the Sioux.

General Sibley called a halt to the column. The place he had chosen to stop was a piece of flat land surround by elevated grassy knolls. On some of the knolls tall, barley grass grew, other hills supported wild flowers. The troopers had just dismounted when the scouts rode in and reported to the General. Soon, word filtered back through the ranks that a large group of Indians were in the area.

Orders then came for the units to make camp. Jim removed the tack from the Cayuse and the pack from the mule. He then rubbed down both animals with batches of dry grass. He was almost finished when Abner Dooley walked up to him. “You must have found something”, said Jim.

“Yep, plenty of sign. Grass cropped by a lot of ponies. Horse shit, unshod hoof prints. They're near alright”, said Abner.

“Then there will be a fight”, said Jim.

“That's why we came here”, Abner responded.

“I wonder when they'll come?', asked Jim.

“They're already here. Up there a top of them mounds. Most of em are looking down on us from that big hill yonder”, said Abner pointing to the highest elevation in the area.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the bugler blowing officers call. Abner looked at Jim. “I see you carry that Colt revolver. Do you know how to use it?”, he asked.

“Enough. Never shot or killed a man tho”, Jim answered.

“That might change today. When the fur starts to fly you stay close to me. Better load that carbine of yours”, suggested Dooley.

Two hours later three Sioux warriors approached the Volunteer's camp. One led a horse pulling a travois. On the litter was a young man who appeared to be either sick or injured. The third man carried an old,

flintlock musket. Seeing what appeared to be a sick or injured Sioux the Officer Of The Day called for an Army doctor.

The doctor arrived carrying his medical bag and as he approached the man on the travois the Sioux holding the musket leveled it at the doctor and fired. With that the Battle of Big Mound was on. From the top of the surrounding knolls the Sioux began a fusillade of rifle fire, firing volley after volley into the camp below. Troopers ran for cover. Officers and non-coms shouted orders. Others peered up to the top of the hills looking for targets. Soon the Volunteers noticed the tell-tale white smoke emitted from burnt gunpowder on the ridges and within minutes began returning fire.

Jim saw several troopers wounded and the injured began calling out for help. Stretcher barriers arrived and began carrying those who could not walk, heading for a place that was safe from the rifle fire directed at the camp. Then, he heard the bugle call for “Boots And Saddles”. Soon, the troopers and scouts were mounted and moving as General Sibley quickly moved out of camp enforce. Next, he heard the bugle sound “Charge” and the sound resonated in the summer air as the Minnesota Volunteer's charged up the rising ground firing as they went.

The Sioux bolted and ran.

It was dark when the Calvary returned to camp. Jim saw Abner attending to his horse. He walked up to Dooley and asked, “How did it go?”

“Depends how you look at it. We found ten dead Sioux. I heard that we took twenty casualties. Don't know if that means wounded, dead or dying”, Abner answered.

“Only ten?”, asked Jim.

“Yep. Chased them for miles until it got too dark. Knowing the General he'll be up and ready to go after them bright and early”, Abner answered.

“Can I go with you?”, asked Jim

Abner looked at Jim for a moment. “Do you know what you're getting yourself into?”, he asked.

“Yes and it's better than sitting around back here”, Jim responded.

“Alright, it don't matter to me none. Put your Cayuse and mule next to my horse and move your gear to my camp site. Then, we'll have some supper. While you're doing that I'll put the coffee pot on the fire”, said Abner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

Dead Buffalo Lake

 

 

The next morning Abner and Jim rode out on to the prairie, moving at times through tall yellow-orange colored grass. There was a dark sky just before the early morning dawn. Far in the distance in the increasing daylight Jim saw trees growing on a hillside. A few, scattered buffalo grazed near a small creek.

“Do you think we'll find them Abner?”

Abner brought his horse to a halt. He turned to Jim and in a loud whisper said,”First thing you got to learn is to keep your mouth shut when you're out here like we are. Man's voice can carry. The Sioux ain't stupid. They put out scouts just like we do. Fact is, that's how we learned how to do it years ago. If you got to talk keep it like a whisper, just like I'm talking now”.

“Sorry”, Jim replied.

Abner got his mount moving again. Jim watched the man at work.

The scout looked at everything, the grass, branches on bushes, wild flowers. From time to time he would stop, look and smell the air.

“What are you trying to smell?”, asked Jim in a hoarse whisper.

“Indian going into battle will paint himself and his pony. Most times they use animal fat mixed with either clay or berry juice. The fat gets old and rancid. There are times when the smell of rancid fat is carried on the wind”, Abner explained.

“Have you smelled anything yet?

“Yep, but I figured it's either your dirty ass or mine”, said Abner with a laugh.

As the early morning hours passed Abner crisscrossed the ground before him, looking, searching. He stopped his horse and sitting in the saddle said, “I got me a feelin that tho I can't see em or smell em they're about. I think we'll head west, go up towards Dead Buffalo Lake. If there's a large war party, that's where they'll be. They're full of piss and vinegar right now. I expect them there Tetons Sioux to join up with the Santee. That be the case both tribes probably moved their villages, bringing wives, children and old one's with them. Result is that they need a good supply of water. Need it for themselves, their horses and dogs”, said Abner

The two men headed west riding over and around rolling hills, some with scattered, stunted pines growing among the green and yellow grass and wild flowers. Shortly afternoon Abner stopped his horse and in a husky whisper said, “Bout time we took a break. Rest the animals. We'll make a cold camp. It will be jerky, hardtack and water for lunch”.

Jim climbed down from the Cayuse then reached for his saddle bag containing his provision for the day.

“Damn it! Let me tell you something. Out here and in this job when you dismount the first thing you reach for is your carbine. If it ain't loaded then it sure as hell should be. Now, take that rifle out of the saddle scabbard. Next, loosen that Colt on your hip so you can draw quick like if it need be”, ordered Dooley.

He did what he was told, but Jim sat somewhat embarrassed as he sat with the carbine across his knees as he chewed a piece of beef jerky.

Abner was quiet as he ate. He took a swig of water from his canteen and said softly, “Don't look at the top of the mound behind us, but any time now two or three Sioux will be coming at us. Cock the hammer on your carbine and get ready. Once you fire that carbine go for your revolver and for my sake don't get excited and shoot me in the ass”.

Moving very slowly Jim drew back the hammer of the Springfield then checked the looseness of the Colt in his holster one more time. When he did a sudden chill went up his spine as the screaming war cries of three Sioux warriors charging down the hill reached his ears.

In an instant Abner was up, on his feet and turned towards the attackers. A shot from the carbine he held in his hands hit the first warrior high in the chest. The sixty nine caliber ball exited out of the Indians back, taking blood, flesh and bone. The second Sioux heading for Jim was met with a ball that struck him just under the nose. Jim watched in horror as the fighter's face disappeared in a burst of blood, blood that flew in all directions, just like the top of the Tetons Brave's head.

Abner drew the revolver from the holster on his hip and drew back the hammer. The third Sioux combatant stopped.

“Quit! “Shouted Dooley, fluent in the Sioux language.

The Indian dropped the war club he held in his hand.

Speaking again in fluent Sioux Abner said, “You are now a captive,

I take you now back where the Army is camped. What is your name?”

“Hehaka Sapa”, the prisoner answered.

“Says his name's Black Elk. Where are the Lakota?”, Abner asked.

“Mni Tanka”, answered the warrior.

“Just as I figured. The tribes are at Dead Buffalo Lake”, Dooley said to Jim.

“How come he's being so co-operative?”, asked Jim.

“He's scared. Keeps looking at the one you shot in the face. That dead man has no eyes. To him that means the dead warrior can't see in the hereafter. If he can't see he can't hunt there. So Black Elk here is afraid you'll do the same to him”, Abner explained.

“Well, what are we going to do?”, asked Jim.

“I'm going to tie the son of a bitch up so we can take him back with us. While I'm doing that you go over the hill. They probably hobbled their horses. Let two go and bring one horse back. Then, we'll get the hell out of here just in case some other friends of this one heard the sound of rifle shots and comes to take a look see”.

On the ride back to where the Army camped Jim watched the mounted Indian riding with his hands tied behind his back. He rode the pony just by using his knees and uttering low sounding verbal commands.

“I'll say one thing. This man can sure ride a horse”, said Jim.

“The Sioux and Cheyenne are great with horses. Nonetheless, the best be the Comanche and that's not just my opinion”,said Abner.

“Tell me, how did you know they were behind you?”,asked Jim

“I sat with the sun at my back. Saw one of them cast a shadow when he raised his head a watching us”.

“Do you think he knows anything about Virginia and Matosapa?”

“I'll ask him. We'll either get a I don't know or a lie, but I'll ask him. Turning his head and looking at the Sioux Abner said in Lakota, “I want to know about a white woman with yellow hair with a war chief, Manosapa

The warrior sat in silence staring straight ahead.

“Nothin. He ain't talking. Probably don't know nothin him being a Tetons Sioux and Manospa being a Santee”, Abner explained.

“For damn sure one of these bastards know something”, said Jim.

“Yep, but right now General Sibley will want to know how many Sioux are camped on Dead Buffalo Lake”, Abner replied.

“Won't those dead bodies we left back there be a warning to those camped at the lake?”, asked Jim.

“Yep. Cept they got their dander up long before today. Dead bodies just going to get their blood to boiling and the young men will be itchin to go into battle. Young braves will be looking for honors in combat”.

The two men rode into camp, turned over their prisoner and reported what had happened up near Dead Buffalo Lake.

That evening the two men shared a supper of salt pork, beans and hardtack, all washed down with hot cups of black coffee. As they sat talking before the fire that was slowly dying out a tall man walked into their camp. “Evening gents”, he said.

“I'll be damned if it isn't Sandy Cahill. What brings you to my fire?”,asked Abner.

“Just making the rounds and talking to my scouts. Making sure they don't need anything”, said Cahill.

“Hell, I'm fixed. Got ammo, got grub, ain't the best the army has issued, but it will do. Horse is alright. He shy's a bit when the bugle blows, but he gets me into the fight', said Abner.

“Good, is there any coffee left in the pot?”, asked Cahill.

“Yep, let me get you a cup out of my possibles', said Abner.

Cahill looked at Jim. Are you that Deputy from Blue Earth County I've heard about?, he asked.

“Yes, but I'm a farmer by trade. I've only been deputized because I'm looking for one particular Sioux who took my fiance' and is probably responsible for killing her parents. The people of Blue Earth County want him for murder and arson. I figure that if I catch up with him maybe I'll find my Virginia, “said Jim.

Cahill took the tin cup that Abner handed him. Then, he reached over and took the coffee pot off of the fire and poured, filling the cup with black coffee. “What's this Indian's name?”, he asked Jim.

“Matosapa”.

“Black Bear. That all you got to go on?”, asked Cahill.

“All I got at the moment”, Jim answered.

Abner interrupted their conversation. “Bout time you two was introduced to each other proper like. Jim, this be one Saunders Cahill. Best damn scout in the U.S. Army, even tho he is a Texan. Sandy, meet Jim Wellington. A Minnesota boy. He's a lookin for his finance', like he told ya”.

The two men shook hands. “When was she taken?”, asked Cahill.

“AS far as I know it was on the first day of the uprising”, Jim answered.

“Well, there's two ways to look at it. I'm assuming that she's a full grown gal. In a way that may be a blessing”, Cahill mentioned.

“How so?”, asked Jim.

“Plains Indians, Sioux, Cheyenne, Comanche, sometimes the Apache take captives for one or two reasons. Those who take young girls or boys usually, but not always, adopt them and raise them as members of the tribe. Older captives are held as slaves, traded or sold. The young girls they raise marry into the tribe, bare children and become members of a clan, fully accepted as one of their own. However, older white women held captive as slaves are worked hard, beaten, tortured and even starved if food becomes scarce. Indian women resent them. One thing is certain. No captive white woman is going to lay with a warrior if a squaw has her way, Cahill explained.

“Well, I aim to find her and take her back to civilization”, said Jim.

“Civilization? Let me tell you about civilization and two gals down in Texas. One. Was taken captive by the Comanche when she was nine years old. The other gal was seventeen when she was taken. Years later, both girls grown into women were rescued and returned to what you call, civilization. There, the good Christian women of the county insisted that both females had slept with Indian men during their years with the tribes. The women of the county abused the two rescued girls so bad that the first woman, the one that was taken when she was nine years old ran away and went back to the Comanche where she was treated better than by white people. The second gal, hanged herself”, Cahill related.

“That don't mean the same thing will happen to me and Virginia”, said Jim.

“I hope not son, but allow me to tell you about another factual story. In 1851 a Mormon family by the name of Oatman was traveling to California. Somewhere near Yuma they were attacked by a lesser tribe, the

Yavapais. The man and his wife were murdered. The boy of thirteen was beaten and left for dead. Two sisters were taken as captives. Olive was fifteen and Mary Ann was seven. The Yavapais used them as slave labor, fetching water, gathering firewood and many was the time when they were beat because they worked too slow at their labor.

A year later, Mohave Indians visited the Yavapais village. They traded two horses, vegetables and blankets in exchange for the two girls.

They traveled for ten days to reach the Mohave village located on the Colorado River. Finally, after a time the girls were adopted by Chief Espanesay and his wife. They were so interested in the girls welfare that they gave them plots of land to farm. Then.,keeping with tribal tradition both girls were tattooed on their arms and chin.

About a year later there was a drought. Food became scarce and Mary Ann died from starvation. Olive continued to live with her adopted tribe until she was nineteen years old. Somehow, word reached those in Yuma that a white girls was being held captive. Then, after some deliberation the Mohave turned Olive over to the authorities. That was in 1857. The last I heard stories of her being raped continually by Mohave men were running rapid all through Texas. Guess who started the rumors.

It was the good Christian women who live in civilization”, said Cahill.

“Either way, what ever her condition, I've got to find her”, said Jim.

“Well, I wish you luck. If you find her and that's a big if. Take her somewhere where no one knows what happened to her. You've got a huge task ahead of you if all you have is a name. Indians can and do change their names usually for some good deed they did or at the whim of their parents. Well, thanks for the coffee. I 've got to check on a couple of other things before I turn in for the night. Jim, it was nice meeting you.

Good luck in your search for your fiance'. I hope you find her”, said Cahill as he got up off of the ground.

“Sandy, I'd like to take this greenhorn with me tomorrow if it's alright by you”, said Abner.

“Fine with me, just as long as you do your job. I heard he handled himself in that little fracas you had today”, Cahill replied.

“Yep. He's one I'd ride the river with Sandy”, Abner responded.

Turning to Jim, Cahill said, “I heard that you killed one of those Sioux that attacked you and Abner today. That right?”

“Yes, first time I ever killed a man and I didn't like it. I hope I never have to do it again”, Jim answered.

“If you stay with us there will be more killing. Good night and good luck tomorrow”, Cahill replied as he walked off into the darkness.

The scouts were out before daylight. As they searched the land before them back at the encampment Sibley's troops began to form. Boots and Saddles was played by the bugler and the men of the Calvary prepared to move out enforce. Sergeants called the infantry to form ranks. Army surgeons and their staff climbed up and into mule drawn ambulances. Cook wagons would be the last in the long line now formed, prepared and ready to go into battle.

Abner Dooley brought his horse to a halt. Jim rode up and stopped beside him. “Do you smell that?”, asked Abner.

“Smell what? I don't smell anything”, Jim answered.

“Course not. You being a farmer you'd be use to the smell of horse shit! Can't you smell it being carried on the breeze? Means the Sioux pony herd is or was near by. Ifin those pony's are all herded together then we got the jump on them. Ifin they ain't, then the Sioux is ready to fight. We got to get closer and take a look see”, said Abner.

After hobbling their horses Abner and Jim moved slowly up the face of a hill. After taking off their hats they then peeked over the top of the rise. As the morning sun began to rise a dark blue, morning sky gradually presented pink, puffy clouds. The prairie grass appeared as a river of gold as the morning breeze moved the tall vegetation.

In the distance they saw the numerous tipi's appearing stark, white against the sky. In front of each lodge a pony stood waiting for its rider to release the tether. Women were at the cooking fires. Warriors were seen entering and leaving the buffalo hide dwellings. Some wore paint. Others sat applying paint to their face and bodies. Others stood decorating their horses.

Abner tapped Jim on the shoulder and with hand gestures indicated that they should back off slowly from their position on the hill.

When the reached the bottom Abner said, “Now's the time the Army should be here. Now, when the Sioux is getting prepared to fight. Not when they're ready. Sibley has to march his force fourteen miles just to get here. Three thousand men, horses, mules and equipment moving fourteen miles means a hell of a lot of stoppin and restin. Meanwhile, over this here hill top the Sioux is havin a big breakfast, painting himself and getting ready to fight”. Both men mounted their horses and headed back to report what they had found.

Shortly before noon, Sibley had his army in position. The Sioux, each warrior fighting independently made demonstrations towards the militia now prepared for combat. Still, they stayed out of range of the soldiers rifles. War cries and insults were hurled at the blue clad combatants who for the most part held their fire.

The Calvary, mounted and ready waited for orders to charge. Nonetheless the mules had been unhitched from the wagons and herded together. Eventually, the Sioux found the herd and decided to attack and drive off the animals. They attacked the left side of Sibley's forces, but the Calvary and Infantry held, presenting a wall of rifle fire that drove off the Indian attack. The Sioux retreated. Sibley ordered a count of his dead and wounded. At the end of the day it was reported that fifteen men had been wounded and seven killed.

“Well, that was easy”, said Abner.

“Easy? They say we lost seven men killed”.Jim replied.

“Hell of a lot better than seventy, ain't it?”Abner responded.

“Now what?”, asked Jim.

“Now, the General will send word back that he fought a great battle and defeated the Sioux at a place called Dead Buffalo lake. Truth be told he won a skirmish, What he wants to do is keep driving the Sioux southwest', said Abner.

“Why?”,asked Jim

“Way I heard it, General Sully is heading north with two thousand men. He is to prevent the Sioux from crossing the Missouri River. The plan is to catch the Sioux between the two advancing armies. When we do, we'll destroy them.”

“Seems to me the Indian is right. If it wasn't for all of the lying and cheating by the government and traders the Sioux would have never raised up and killed and burned”, said Jim.

“Yep, I'm forced to agree with ya. How some ever, the Indian, and not just the Sioux mind ya, but all Indians are either now in the way or soon be in the way of what the white man calls progress”, explained Abner.

“That don't make it right”,Jim responded.

“Nope, it sure don't, but that's the way it's going to be. When this war ends against the Confederacy there will be a lot of veterans, veterans from both sides, mind ya. Them boys have seen the elephant. They'll want land, land to homestead. Their eyes will look west, seeing California and Oregon and to get there they'll have to pass through Indian territory. It don't take much thought that the Indian is going to resist and fight”, Abner answered.

“What do you think we'll do next?”, asked Jim

“Far as I know, we'll stay on the Sioux like a tick on a buffalo's ass.

Two days later, Jim and the army scout rode out in front of Sibley's advancing columns. The early morning night sky presented millions of stars in the heavens as the men traveled over the grassland finding their way through the illuminated landscape.

Abner wanted to be in position to find the Sioux. Were they on the move towards or away from Sibley's advancing army? It was his task to find out as it was for him to know and to report. He headed towards the Missouri River, hoping to find signs of the tribe moving west. He peered at the ground as the sun began to rise giving him a faint, daylight. He brought his mount to a halt. Looking at Jim he said, “Bout time you made yourself useful. I want you to go left from here about a hundred yards. Then start lookin for sign. You'll be lookin for unshod pony tracks, travois tracks cut in the ground, things like that. You find somethin you let me know. Meanwhile’s, I’ll do the same here”.

Jim nodded and turned the Cayuse roan and rode out as instructed.

He he rode he searched the grass. He looked for tell tale signs of someone or something that had moved and passed over the land. With animals it could be foot or hoof depressions, close cropped grass where they fed, and dung. With humans it might be mistakes made, such as dropping a tool, a bone from a meal, a bloody bandage, anything that represented humans passing through the area.

The morning air warmed as the rising sun moved higher in the sky. Jim rode the Cayuse back and forth over the hundred yard area he searched. Stopping he took a swig of water from his canteen. As he replaced the canteen cap he caught the sight of a foreign object, something that did not belong on the grassland. He got down from his mount and with the reins in one hand bent down and picked up a small piece of buffalo horn. Inside the horn were the remains of red vermillion.

Jim looked for Abner. Seeing that he wasn't too far away, as taught and instructed he gave a call, imitating the prairie chicken. “Whoo-doo-dooh! Whoo-doo-dooh!”, he called.

Abner turned towards the sound, then saw Jim beckon to him. He rode up to Jim, dismounted and took the bison horn. With his index finger he touched the vermillion colored fat finding it still moist. “Still wet. Probably a young warrior. Painted himself up for battle then tossed this away. Since there ain't no other sign who ever it were was probably a straggler trying to catch up with the main party. Mount up. We’ll keep heading towards the big river. That's where the Sioux will place the women, children and old ones”, said Abner.

Shortly after noon they rode up a rise and pulled on the reins of their mounts. Ahead of them, perhaps a mile they saw nothing else that indicated that the Sioux were in the area. “We'll keep going till we reach Stony Lake. That's where the General wants to camp and rest the men and animals”, said Abner.

Five hours later, Sibley's troops made camp. Word went through the encampment that General Sibley was irritated that he had to stop and rest his command. He wanted to pursue the Sioux, punish them and most of all prevent them from crossing the Missouri River.

At sunup the next morning, Sibley had his force on the move. They had traveled approximately five miles when the first war party struck. The General gave the orders to take defensive positions. When they did the Santee and Tetons Warriors probed for a weakness in the white soldiers lines. Finding none, the Sioux began a strategic withdrawal, fighting a delaying action.

“What are they doing?”, asked Jim.

“Stalling, buying time so their families can get across the river, Abner explained.

Sandy Cahill rode up, stopped and from the saddle said, “Looks like we'll be on the move again. The General is going to stay on the attack. He wants to know if General Sully is in position to stop the Sioux attempting to cross the river. I want you to come with me Abner”.

Abner Dooley climbed quickly on to his horse.

“Can I come?”, asked Jim.

Cahill thought for a moment, then answered. “Alright, but you'll have to keep up. We'll be traveling fast.”

The three men rode through miles of wheat grass and as they did meadowlarks feeding on insects were forced to fly, coming up out of the prairie grass and taking wing to another location ahead of the riders.

Cahill allowed his horse to walk. As it did it suddenly began acting strange. “Somethings wrong. This critter only acts this way when he smells Indians. He don't like em”, he said.

As the three men approached a high mound each man checked his weapons. Cahill checked the position of the sun in the sky. Locating it he positioned himself so the sun was at his back. Abner and Jim followed, doing the same thing. Before they reached the rise five mounted Sioux came riding fast from behind the knoll. As they came they screamed their war cries. Each warrior was painted. One rode a buckskin pony, another a mule. As they came on Cahill was the first to draw and fire, using his revolver. Jim concentrated on the Sioux riding the buckskin. He noticed the hatred in the man's eyes as he approached, saw the black and white and white paint on his face. He saw the white froth formed in the pony's mouth. He smelled the sweat of the animal and the odor of rancid fat from the war paint as the man came nearer. Then, he watched with satisfaction as the shot from his revolver struck the rider coming at him causing the warrior to leave the buffalo hide saddle and fall backwards to the ground. Then, he heard the buzz of a rifle ball pass by his head. It was a near miss caused by the shooter who had to look into bright sunlight as he took aim.

Cahill downed another Sioux. As Jim looked for another target he saw a mounted warrior racing towards Abner. The rider carried a long lance and as Abner fired at him the shot missed. Jim yelled in horror as he saw the lance penetrate and punch through his friend's body.

Still screaming, Jim rushed the Cayuse towards the lance carrier. When he was close enough he left the saddle in a leap crashing into the mounted Indian causing both men to fall to the ground. The plunge to the ground knocked the wind out of the Sioux. In anger, Jim quickly placed his left hand on the enemy's throat and at the same time reached back for the Bowie knife in the scabbard on his belt. When the knife came free and in his hand he screamed and stabbed. Then, he stabbed again and again.

“That's enough! That's enough! Damn it Jim the Indian's dead. Stop it”, ordered Cahill.

Jim got up and off of the body of the man he had just killed. He looked at Abner Dooley, saw that the man was dead and he began to cry.

“Go ahead Jim. Let it out. Let it all out. The fights over. We won, but we lost a friend, a damn fine man”, said Cahill.

Later, they tied Abner Dooley's body to his horse. “We'll take him out on the prairie and bury him. If we do it here they'll dig him up and mutilate his body. Besides, knowing Abner that's he would want to be. Out there with the grass, the wind and the sky', said Cahill.

Jim walked over to where they had placed the lance on the ground. He picked it up and then drove the pointed end into the soil. Then, he went to the body of the Sioux he had just killed and after taking out his knife scalped the warrior. Swinging the hair and flesh in the air displaced the blood from the tissue. Satisfied, he then went to the standing lance and tied the trophy to the shaft of the weapon, leaving a message for those who found the bodies of the dead warriors.

Both riders now headed for the Missouri River. A few miles out they found a place for Abner Dooley's grave. There, prairie flowers grew. Both men took turns digging as the wanted the grave to be deep preventing animals getting to the body. It took them awhile using their hands and pine sticks they had picked up on the way since they lacked a shovel. When they finished each man removed his hat and said good by in their own way.

Hours later they stood on the banks of the Missouri River. Where they stood the river bank was overgrown with reeds and here and there dead branches lay that were once drift wood. The water muddy on this day moved slowly. An osprey flew low over the water as the sun began to set. Still, there were no signs of General Sully.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

Fort Pierre

 

On orders from General Sibley the Army scouts were told to either find the Sioux or General Sully. Jim rode with Sandy Cahill along the eastern side of the Missouri River. A slow current carried grass and muddy water, both visible to the eye. Sandy stopped his horse and gazed upon the watercourse. “What we're looking for is up ahead. That much floating grass is probably the result of many travois, ponies and people tearing up prairie as they moved. Looks like they crossed over. Both Sibley and Sully are too late”, said Cahill.

Thirty minutes later the riders came upon a section of earth torn and flattened by the hoofs and feet of Sioux ponies and people. Here, the river was shallow. Several sandbars could be seen, exposed, some of them in the middle of the river, others near the far bank.

“Looks like the perfect place to cross”, said Jim.

“Yep. Don't forget that this is the hunting ground of the tribes. They know this land a hell of a sight better than we do. This is probably where the buffalo cross from time to time. Sioux hunters probably found this place a hundred years ago”, Sandy replied.

On the way back to Sibley's command they saw an advance column approaching. Sandy stopped and waited. “Makes no sense to ride there and meet them then turn around and ride back here. We'll wait and let them come to us”, he said.

When the blue uniformed Calvary rode up to them Sandy reported to Major Winfield Burns. “They crossed about two miles up river I figure. Looks like they moved the entire villages of both the Santee and Tetons tribes. If General Sibley comes on quick-like he can still catch them”, he said.

“Your job is to scout and report Mister Cahill, not to formulate army tactics”,replied Burns.

Cahill fought the anger and his temper and then saying nothing turned his horse and rode away.

The next day Sibley led his troops on patrol along the east side of the river. Upon reaching the tributary known as the James River he crossed over to the western side.

Jim followed, not sure of the General's plan of operation. Sandy Cahill rode up along side of him and offered his right hand. “This is it Jim. Time for me to go. Sibley's heading south, going back to Minnesota. He'll claim he won another great battle against the Sioux. Those in Washington will probably promote him, just like they did when he took to the field for this expedition. Meanwhile, General Sully is coming north. I'm under contract to the army, so it appears he'll be my next boss. I want you to know it's been a pleasure knowing you. Take care and keep your hair”, he said.

Taken by surprise, Jim took the man's hand and held it. “Wait a minute! If he's going back to Minnesota, then he's going the wrong way. I've got to go north or west, go where ever the Sioux are until I find Virginia. Hell, I

Ill look inside every tipi I come across”, said Jim.

“As much as I like you I know that you wouldn't last two days out here on your own. I'd probably find your scalp hanging on some lodge pole. Guess the only sensible thing for you to do is hook up with me. I'll tell Sully what a great scout you are”, Cahill suggested.

“But, I'm not a scout”, said Jim.

“Not right now, but you're sure as hell going to be”, Cahill responded.

Both men turned their horses and headed southwest, hoping to find General Sully on the march heading northwest in search of the Sioux.

As they rode over the Dakota grassland it changed its contour going from flat land to mounds and hills. At the same time tall grass turned to areas of brush and bush and as they traveled the setting sun sank lower in the western sky. That night they hobbled their horses. Jim had left the pack mule with Sibley, but had his cooking utensils and a small amount of food in a canvas pack tied behind his saddle. They made camp beside a small pond.

“I've got a couple of cans of army issued beef. Might as well use it. Also got some dry peas and hardtack. Ain't much, but it's better than nothing”, said Cahill as he made a fire using dry buffalo dung as fuel.

“I'll fetch water for the coffee and peas”, said Jim.

As they waited for the food to cook Sandy noticed the Jim sat deep in thought. “Something bothering you?”, he asked.

“Just the same old thing. Wondering where she is, how she is?”, Jim answered.

“Wish I could help you. Right now the problem appears to be, which band has her. Is it the Santee or the Tetons?”said Sandy.

“What difference does it make? Santee, Tetons, to me it's like saying Methodist or Baptist. A Sioux is a Sioux”, said Jim.

“That's not rightly so Jim. The thing you got to know is that there are many bands of Sioux. They call it, Oceti Sakowin, or great nation. They also call it the Seven Campfires. If you were to bring all of the bands to say, a meeting, there would be, Mandan's, Hidatsa, Arikara, Chippewa, and the Lakota, Nakota and Dakota. Actually, the Dakota are the Santee and the Lakota are Tetons. They also have different customs. The Mandan's are basically, farmers. They plant their crops and stay put. They'll grow corn, squash, beans and sunflowers. They use the seeds. The women work the fields and the men hunt. Like all plains Indians they rely on the Buffalo for meat, but they'll take deer and anything else that's available.

The men also build the home. They dig inside a mound then reinforce it with wood and earth. When it's finished, it belongs to the woman. On the other hand, the Lakota, Nakota and Dakota are hunters. They follow the buffalo herds. The thing about them is that they're mobile. A Sioux woman can erect or take down and pack a tipi in nothing flat. She packs it and the family belongings, secures it to a travois and she's ready to go”, explained Cahill.

“That's what bothers me the most. They're always on the move. One band goes north the other south. Where should I look?”, asked Jim.

“It's not necessarily where you should look, but rather who you should ask', Cahill replied.

“Ask? I don't understand Sioux, let alone speak it”.

“It don't matter. Even some of the Sioux can't talk to each other. Some tribes have a different tongue. The dialect is different. So if you were to let's say, learn Mandan Sioux you couldn't talk to a Santee. Now, I can teach you the basic Sioux language, but it's better that you learn Indian sign language. That way you can talk to any of them or all of them”, Cahill explained.

The next morning the two men broke camp and began their ride south, hoping to meet General Sully and his two thousand man army heading north. They rode over green prairie grass that resembled an emerald carpet. From time to time they rode up and over or around lime colored mounds and knolls. Hours later, the terrain changed and they began to see tall, yellow, wheat grass. Far in the distance Pronghorn antelope grazed and the horse-mint flowers were in bloom, offering a lavender affect to the undulating hills.

Shortly after high noon the advance scouts of Sully's command met Jim and Sandy Cahill yelled with a grin, “Barney Mathis, you old, son of a bitch. I thought by now some woman's husband would have killed you”.

With a laugh the man answered, “The bastard hasn't been born yet”.

Cahill turned to Jim and said,”That's Barnaby Mathis, best damn Indian scout in the Union Army”. After an introduction the riders dismounted and sat on the ground.

“Thought you was with Sibley”, said Mathis. “I was. Sibley's heading back to Minnesota. Ain't nothing there for me. Besides Jim here is looking for his gal. She was taken by the Sioux some time back”, Sandy answered.

Mathis looked at Jim. “Sorry to hear that son. If we take any Sioux prisoners on this campaign I'll take a look-see for her. What's her name?”

“Virginia Martin. She'd be near nineteen now. She's got strawberry blond hair, small built. She comes up to my chin', offered Jim.

“Jim's a deputy sheriff from Blue Earth county, Minnesota”, said Cahill.

Mathis nodded his head, then changed the subject.”You heard about the war back east?”

“Last I heard Lee had invaded Ohio or Pennsylvania. I can't remember which”, Sandy answered.

“It were Pennsylvania. A place called Gettysburg. Don't you have a brother fighting with hood?”

“Yep', Sandy answered.

“Well, John Bell Hood got his ass kicked at a place they call, Little Round Top. Word is the Lee took such a beating that he pulled out and headed back to Virginia”, Mathis reported.

“I doubt if Lee is finished”, Sandy replied.

“No question about it. How some ever, Grant took Vicksburg on the same day, July third”, Mathis added.

“Well, you old reprobate do you have room for two good scouts?”, asked Sandy.

“Got room for one, you. Henry Jenkins quit two days ago. It be the tisim that got him. Poor bastard be bent over like a pretzel. Sorry son, got no need for another scout after I take on Sandy and in particular a green horn.

Now you being a deputy puts another spin on the situation. We'll be aiding the law as you do what ever it is you're supposed to do. You can draw rations and charge it to your county back home. Meanwhile, between me and Sandy here and some others we'll teach you the tricks of being an army scout. I want you to know how some ever that you'll be sucking hind tit if I take you along. I got men with a lot of years doing this work. Can't and won't show any favoritism”, said Mathis.

“I understand sir”, said Jim.

“How come Sully's late?”, asked Sandy.

“It be the drought. River was too low so the steamboat with our supplies on board didn't reach us. We had to wait. Besides there ain't no hurry. Sully intends to build a fort to operate from. Once he's ready, he'll go after the Sioux.

“What do you think of him?', asked Sandy.

“I've seen better Generals, also seen a lot worse. One thing, ifin he finds the Sioux he'll sink his teeth in their ass and won't let go”, Mathis explained.

“That's good enough for me”, said Sandy.

For the next two days General Sully moved his troops across the Dakota prairie. Two thousand men, horses, mules and wagons made their way across what seemed like an endless grassland.

“Any idea where we're going?”,Jim asked Sandy.

“I heard he's heading for Fort Pierre. He'll unload his supply wagons, rest up a spell, then be on the move”, sandy answered.

“Fort Pierre? I never heard of it,” said Jim.

“It's an old fur trading post. The army bought it in fifty five”, Cahill explained.

“Mind if I ask you something?”, said Jim.

“Ask what you want”, Sandy replied.

“How come you being a Texan you work for the Union Army?”

Cahill shook his head. “Not every Texan or every southerner thinks that secession is the way to go. Many think the problems could have been solved through patience and diplomacy. I'm one of those that think the same way.”, said Cahill.

“Do you think you can go back there after the war?”

“Sure, why not? As far as I know there's nobody back there that can stop me”.

Barney Mathis rode up beside them. “Alright Jim Wellington, I'm going to give you a look-see. Remember, I told you that you'd get the dregs of assignments? Well, here's your first one. You ride drag. Stay behind the wagons bout a half mile or a mile. That way we cover the General's ass. I don't want some Sioux son of a bitch a sneakin in the back door. You see something. You ride like hell back here to Lieutenant Chambers. He's the one escorting the wagons. That Cayuse you be sittin on, is it fast?”, asked Mathis.

“He'll do Mister Mathis”, answered Jim.

“Good, and call me Barney. Better cover your face with a bandana. Grassland be dry and we'll be raising a lot of dust. By the way, you'll be paid thirteen dollars a month, plus army grub”, mention Barney as he rode away.

“Anything I should know, Sandy?”

“Don't ride directly in back of the last wagon. Ride off to one side or the other. That way you'll see both sides of the land laid out before you.

Pay particular attention to high grass, the wheat grass. Look for flocks of birds coming up out of hiding or feeding. Listen for strange bird calls, or the howl of a wolf. Right now there's no buffalo in the area. The herds have moved so the wolf packs are hunting where the buffalo are. Most of all, watch your hair”, advised Cahill.

Surprisingly, after taking his position behind the last wagon Jim noticed that there wasn't too much dust in the air. Still, he followed Sandy's advice and alternated his ride first, left of the wagons then, right of the wagons. As he did the troops marched through rolling hills containing scattered growth of pines. Wild Bergamot was in bloom and like the horsemint produced purple flowers. Occasionally, a bird took flight from the tall grass, but not from fright caused by an intruder. He listened carefully to the natural sounds of the prairie, sounds that he had become familiar with, a result of his many days now on the grassland. Most of the time he heard the soft hum of the breeze passing over and through the plain, whispering as it moved and touched the grass. Prairie dogs sat outside of their dens constantly on the alert for preying enemies. The powder blue sky was even absent of eagles or hawks.

Now alone as he rode mile after mile his thoughts were again of Virginia. He tried not to think of her suffering out there somewhere. Instead, he brought up memories of her and him together. He remembered how she looked with just a touch of white, flour on her nose on a day when he sat in her kitchen and watched her make an apple pie. The memory of the smell of her hair when he held her close, strawberry, blond hair that she washed with fresh, soft rainwater that she took from a barrel. Memories of her soft voice as she sang hymns in church as she stood next to him. And, he remembered the feel of her hand in his as they walked together. He remembered their plans. They were the children of farmers. Their life had been made up of hard work that meant scratching out a living from the earth and they were prepared to do it again, together. In the beginning they would have each other and later, children of their own.

Something caught his eye. Far to his left there was movement on the plain. He pulled the brim of his hat down to block the sun from his eyes now shining directly in his face. Still, he had to raise one hand to shade his eyes. He watched the object It appeared dark against the backdrop of yellow grass. He studied the thing that was moving slow. Then, he recognized the moving thing. It was an old bull buffalo, so aged that it couldn't keep up with the herd and had been left behind. Jim watched the animal as it appeared to take slow, painful steps through the prairie grass.

It was just a matter of time before the coyotes or wolves found it or it just dropped dead and became fare for the vultures. “The circle of life”, Jim thought to himself. “One comes from nothing and returns to nothing”.

Early the next morning Jim gazed upon a purple and gold sky as the sun began to rise. Sunlight appeared as gold leaf coating the clouds. Above the clouds a dark blue sky slowly gave up its murky night color while beneath the high billowing vapors there was a lavender coating. In the distance the ever present, scattered pines appeared as a black, silhouette.

As he sat with Sandy Cahill eating a breakfast of bacon, hardtack and black coffee Barney Mathis walked up to their fire. “Mornin. Jim, you ride drag again today. We be a good days ride to Fort Pierre. When we get there we'll be a restin for a few days. Meanwhile, life and work goes on. Sandy, I want you out in front today. Pay particular attention to high hills, mounds and knolls. What the hell am I sayin? Me. Tellin you how to do your job. You know what to look for. Alright, we be a wastin daylight. Should be boots and saddles any time now. See you fella's at supper”, he said.

Jim spent another day in the saddle dodging clouds of dust created by the wagons he followed in a now, arid prairie. Still, even with a bandana covering his nose and mouth he was able to scan the landscape, always vigilant, always alert.

The two thousand man army marched and rode into Fort Pierre Chousteau just before dark. The march had been uneventful still, the men looked forward to a few days rest.

Sandy caught up with Jim who stood brushing the coat of the Cayuse.

“Feel like something to eat beside army issued beef or pork?”, Cahill asked.

“Where and how?”, asked Jim.

“A place called, Minerva's Tea Room. Actually, it's a combination restaurant and whore house. I hear the food is good and the women have the pox. Put your stinger in anyone of them and you'll be pissing hot coals and fire a week later. Nonetheless, we can also get a hot bath there. Suppers on me. You pay for anything else that tickles your fancy”, said Cahill.

“That would be the bath. I stink so bad my horse can't stand me”, Jim replied.

The two men sat at a rough, hewed table and on course, cut benches. A young, Black girl brought two mugs of warm beer to them and they sat and drank as they waited for their meal. “Last time I saw a table cloth was back in Mankato”, said Jim.

“Yep, and it's probably the next place you'll see one again”, Cahill replied.

“Well? What do you hear? What's the General going to do next?”, asked Jim.

“The word I get is that he's still short of supplies. He needs more of everything, food, fodder, winter clothing, horse blankets. Right now he's got the fort blacksmith and farrier tending to the horses and mules. Incidentally, have you checked your mount?”

“Yep. Hell, he's in better shape than I am”, Jim answered.

“I assume that when Sully gets some concrete information about the Sioux he'll move and move quick”, Cahill continued.

The young girl returned this time bringing plates of buffalo steaks and baked potato's that they had ordered. “You want more beer?”, she asked.

“Yes”, Sandy answered and the girls picked up the empty mugs and headed for the kitchen.

“The question is, if he finds them will it be a long campaign or a short one?”, asked Jim.

“Figure it to be a long one. Sully will attack and attack and attack again until the tribes he's fighting agree to sign a treaty and obey the government. If I was you I'd get me a set of buckskins and make sure you draw an army buffalo coat and overshoes', said Sandy.

After chewing and swallowing a piece of steak, Jim asked, “Where do I find a suit of buckskins?”

“Hopefully, there's a Ponca squaw outside the fort, sitting on a pile of deer skins. You find her, she'll measure you and start cutting and sewing it up. You'll have it in two days, Cahill answered.

“How much will it cost me?”

“About one pound of salt, a pound of sugar, two pounds of coffee, three cigars and two bottles of whiskey. The whiskey's for her husband. He'll ask for more naturally. When he does just walk away from the deal. That will anger the squaw and she'll start raising hell. That's when you make the deal.”, Cahill, explained.

“Damn, this buffalo is good eating”, said Jim.

“True, true. Not much fat, but damn good lean', said Sandy.

The girl came back with the beer and when she set it on the table, Cahill said, “We both need a hot bath with soap and some laundering. Who do we have to see?”

“My Mama does the baths and the laundry. It be fifty cents for the bath and a dollar for the clothes, unless you got critters. Mama don't like no lice”, said the girl.

“Alright, when we're done eating you can show us the way to the bath house”, said Jim.

Later, the two men soaked in gallons of hot, soapy water, each in his own copper tub. Jim just sat, allowing the soap and water to penetrate the pores of his skin. Sandy scrubbed away the dirt and grime accumulated from riding over a hundred miles on the Dakota prairie. While they bathed the Black woman who owned the restaurant, bath house and laundry boiled their clothes in a large iron kettle that hanged over an open fire.

As their clothes dried in the sun Cahill and Jim sat on a log bench wrapped in old blankets. The laundress finally walked in carrying their clothes. “You want these things ironed it goin to cost you another ten cents, each”, she said.

“Ironed? Do you want us to be the laughing stock of this army?”, asked Cahill.

“Suit yourself', the woman responded as she left the room.

“Both men dressed and walked out side. “The problem with taking a bath it makes me want to take a nap afterward s', said Jim

“Sorry friend, we still got things to do. There's that old Ponca couple living just outside the main gate. Let's hope she has the skins we need for your buckskins”, said Cahill.

“Do you speak Ponca?”asked Jim.

“Nope, but I speak sign. I'll have to parley with the husband like I told you. He'll try to fleece at the same time as we fleece him. The trick is to get the old woman on our side of the banter. When she gets to be aware of all the things we're offering she should come around. The old man is only interested in tobacco and whiskey', Cahill answered.

Three days later, now dressed in buckskins Jim rode with Cahill as they scouted the prairie for signs of the Sioux. They searched hill tops, knolls, ponds and old camp sites, finding nothing.

Shortly after noon they spotted three objects in the distance. Dismounting, they made their way to the top of a mound and in the prone position Sandy peered through army issued binoculars. “Looks like buffalo carcasses. Must be recent kills, even the vultures haven't spotted them yet. Alright, let's move on down there and see what sign they left us. One things for sure, the travois with all that meat will leave marks in the grass, leading us right to the village', said Cahill.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

White Stone Hill

The bugler blew revile before sunrise. Sandy and Jim sat up and tossed aside the blankets that had covered them through the night. As they sat on the ground, both pulling on their boots Barney Mathis walked up to them. "Well, since you boys are the one's that say you found the Sioux, both of you get to head out in front of the column. The General wants to know just what he'll be facing today and he don't want any guess work," said the head scout.

"Is the General going to allow us to have breakfast first?", asked Sandy.

"Yep, a quick breakfast. Get over to the mess. Coffee's on, mush and bacon fryin. Eat, then get your asses out on the grassland," said Barney as he walked away.

As the sun began to rise the two men rode over familiar land making their way back to the site of the buffalo carcasses. An hour out on the plain they saw the remains of the animals. Now, a flock of black vultures fed on what little the Sioux women had left. Sandy looked down from his place in the saddle, saw the travois, hoof and foot prints in the grass and urged his horse forward again. "They left so much sign it's almost as tho they made a road that leads right to them", he said to Jim.

Later, as they approached a high knoll topped with a copse of Ponderosa pine Sandy dismounted and made his way to the top of the hill. There, hidden among the pine trees and using the binoculars again he scanned the terrain in front of him. Then he saw the village. He quickly counted the tipi's. some were still erect, but others were being taken down by the women. "They're getting ready to pull out", he said to Jim.

"What now?", Jim asked.

"You ride back. The column should be on the move by now. Tell the General what we've found and the fact that the Sioux are moving the village. Tell him I figure two hundred lodges.

"Jim had the Cayuse running, following the course they had made on their way out on to the grassland. The horse was moving at a good pace. The question was how long could the animal last. They had been moving constantly all morning and there were signs that the mount was tiring. Thirty minutes later, the Cayuse stopped running and began to walk slowly. Jim dismounted and led the horse now covered with sweat towards the advancing army. As he walked the sun began to beat down on him. He wished he had the old, cotton shirt that was much cooler than the buckskin he now wore. He removed the wide brim hat and wiped his brow with his bandana. Then, in the distance he saw a rider. He checked the revolver in the holster worn at his side. making sure it was loose for a draw. When the rider came in sight he saw that it was Barney Mathis.

Mathis rode up to him and Jim told the scout what they had seen and the location of the retreating Sioux. "Alright, I’ll ride back and report what you say to the General. You stay here. both you and your horse need a rest. When the column comes up I’ll see if I can get you another mount. Don't expect too much. Might be an old charger that now pulls a canon", said Barney.

When the troops finally came up to where Jim waited the General sent for him. As he approached General Sully, he saw that the commanding officer was surrounded by other commissioned ranks. Looking up from a map that had been spread out on the tailgate of a wagon he beckoned Jim to come to him. "I hear that you found the Sioux", said Sully.

"Yes sir".

"Show me where, here on this map", Sully ordered.

Jim took a moment to read the map, his eyes searching for what would indicate hill and knolls, hoping that elevations were listed, but they weren't. "Best I can figure sir is that we spotted them from this hilltop. From that knoll to the village is flat land, good land for cavalry. That's where they set up their village. right now they're getting ready to leave. Sandy Cahill told me to inform you sir that he estimates two hundred lodges".

"How far from where I stand now to that village?", asked the General.

"About ten miles", Jim answered.

“Alright gentlemen, I want the cavalry moving just as soon as you can get your men in the saddle. Once you arrive I want the village surrounded. The rest of us will be coming on the run. I want to hit them hard. You can expect artillery, cavalry and mounted infantry to be in place. Nonetheless, exercise caution. I don't want any friendly fire causalities. Major Howser, you may move when ready sir “, said Sully.

Major Howser saluted, turned and rant to his horse and men all ready to mount on command.

“Good job, mister? Mister?”, said the General.

“Wellington and thank you sir”, Jim replied.

An old, white, gelding was brought forward and Jim removed the tack from the Cayuse and saddled the old animal. “Make sure somebody looks after my horse”, Jim said to an orderly. He then watched as the Cayuse was led away.

General Sully gave the order and sixteen hundred men, horse drawn artillery, and wagons began the march to the Sioux village. Once in motion the sounds of hoof beats and groaning wagon wheels in need of grease resonated across the grassland mixed with the cursing of the teamsters as they urged the mule teams forward, forward to a place called “White Stone Mountain”.

A cavalryman rode up and reported to General Sully. “Sir, Major Howser sends his compliments and reports that his troops are in position as ordered. Several Sioux approached with a white flag, but the Major suspects that the white flag was used as a method to allow many Sioux women and children to escape”.

“Very well. Return to your unit”, said Sully. Then speaking to his adjutant said, “Now, let's see what the enemy is actually doing”, as he peered through his binoculars. “Howser is right. The women are dismantling the lodges. I want to close their escape routes. Colonel Wilson. Take your troops and protect my right flank. Colonel Furnas, you and your men will occupy the ravines. Once both of you are in position I will engage the enemy,” ordered Sully.

The Commanding Officer Of Artillery saluted and asked, “Where would you like me to position my guns, sir?”.

“Major, I have the village surrounded. I dislike the thought of shell fire falling on my own troops that are on the far side of the battlefield. You and your guns and men will follow me into the village and I hope to heaven that I won't need your support”, answered Sully

As the daylight faded and darkness approached Cahill joined Colonel Furnas. Fearing casualties from friendly fire Furnas took up a defensive position. His infantry carried the issued standard Springfield rifle, excellent at long range unlike the carbine. The Sioux he engaged were armed with old muskets, shotguns and bow and arrow. The Colonel's infantrymen were able to hit far targets when the Sioux exposed themselves.

Yet, in the darkness dead and wounded blue-clad soldiers lay on the battlefield. Sioux warriors crept through the night taking scalps from dead troopers. Occasionally, a horrible scream would be heard as the enemy found and first scalped and then killed wounded cavalry and infantrymen.

After entering the village General Sully stood watching the numerous fires started by his troops for their evening meal. Two Indian Chief's were brought before the General, “Big Head” and “Little Head”. Also taken were one hundred and fifty Sioux, some of them warriors, but most were old men and women and some children. However, much to Sully's dismay the majority of the warriors had escaped during the night.

In the early morning daylight the next day the troops found the village now empty, except for the dead, a few dogs and the Sioux prisoners. Army patrols were sent out to locate the escaping Sioux. Meanwhile, other troops began the destruction of Indian property. Two hundred tipi's were burned. A thousand pounds of dried buffalo meat went into the flames. Of the total amount of prisoners only thirty two were male fighters. These were questioned. Jim sat, watched and listened as Barney Mathis acted as interpreter for General Sully. In the Santee language Barney asked why the tribe had crossed back over the Missouri River and camped. The Sioux being questioned answered, “We cross water, after long knives leave”. Next, Barney asked,” Why did you come back?”

“We hunt buffalo for winter meat, near big hill”, the man answered.

“Well, we took care of that. Tell him the buffalo meat is gone. Tell him that if his people want to eat they must come to terms peacefully and sign a new treaty. Tell him that after they do that they must move to a reservation”, said Sully.

“Anything else General?”,asked Mathis.

“No. What I want to know is where are those that ran away, and these prisoners won't tell me”.., said Sully as he stood and walked out of the tent.

The prisoners were removed and the officers left the tent leaving only Barney, Cahill and Jim. “Say Barney, you once told me that you would ask about Virginia if and when the opportunity presented its self”, mentioned Jim.

“That I did. That I did. Well, come on. I'll talk to the old ones, the women, maybe I'll get something out of them”.

The three men walked outside. Barney looked over the many women and children sitting on the ground, most wrapped in blankets. Seeing a particular old woman Barney walked up to her and spoke, speaking to her in her native tongue. “Grandmother, I am a friend. I look for a white woman with yellow hair taken a long time ago. Her name is. Virginia”.

Looking up at the white man towering over her the old woman held out her cupped hands and said, “Too-bac. Too-bac”.

“Tobacco Grandmother?” Barney removed his tobacco pouch from his shirt pocket, opened it and poured a small amount into the cupped hands of the old woman. She took a pinch, placed it in her mouth and began to chew. “Tishina pte. Tishina pte”, she said.

“What does that mean”, asked Jim.

“Buffalo robe”, said Cahill.

Barney asked the old woman to explain.

“She with family that keeps in place, the buffalo robe”, the old woman said in Sioux and Barney translated. “Well, now all we have to do is find which family is keeping the buffalo robe. That should narrow it down to about a thousand Sioux in about seven nation camp fires amounting to maybe a couple of hundred clans”, said Barney.

“Ask her what she knows of Matosapa”, said Jim.

“I search for Matosapa”, said Barney.

“See if there is a connection between Matosapa and the Buffalo robe keeper family', suggested Cahill.

“Is Matosapa a relative of the buffalo robe keeper?”, Barney asked.

“He is cousin Medicine man, One Horn”, the old woman answered.

“Well, there you have it. Now, all you have to do it examine every lodge of the bands of Sioux trying to find a medicine man named, One Horn. Good luck. Ifin you want my advice you should give up this here search you be on. In all probability the gal is either dead, or wishes she was”, said Mathis as he walked away.

“He may be right”, said Sandy

“I don't think so. This is the first piece of information that I've received since I started looking for her. I won't rest until I either find her or what happened to her, Jim replied.

The dried buffalo meat, corn, hides and trappings burned for two days.

As it did the captured Sioux women cried and sang their prayer songs knowing that the on coming winter would be one of hunger.

Jim stood sipping his morning, hot, black coffee from a tin cup, watching and listening to the cries of the women and children. “What we're doing right now, isn't right. Now, we're punishing women and children.”, He said, complaining.

Sandy, seated in front of a morning fire looked up at Jim and said, “Seems to me that back in Minnesota it was the Sioux that punished white women and children”.

“That don't mean we have to act like barbarians. We're a Christian nation”, Jim replied.

“Christian nation? Don't the good book say, an eye for an eye? This so called Christian nation you refer to at this very moment is divided with each side killing each other everyday and both sides are Christian, “Cahill answered.

Jim tossed the now empty tin cup on to his blanket roll and walked away. As he walked towards the remuda where his horse was kept he saw Barney Mathis walking towards him. “Just the man I'm a lookin for. I just got the causality report. We lost twenty two men killed. Not too bad considerin that we counted near two hundred Sioux dead. How some ever, one of our dead was Herb Beckman. Poor bastard took an arrow in the eye. He were one of my scouts. I ain't got time nor the access to a telegraph in order to request a replacement, so I'm offering you the job. You get twenty dollars a month and three issued rations per day. You can sell your ration back to the army for nineteen cents. Ifin you take the job, you sign an army contract back at Fort Pierre. I'll make sure the contract starts today. Course that deputy job you have you do on your own time. Well? Are you in or out?”, asked Mathis.

“I'm in. Thanks Barney”.

“You're welcome. Now, saddle that Cayuse of yours and get your ass out on the prairie”, Mathis ordered.

“What am I looking for?”, asked Jim.

“Seems to me that since we just fought the Sioux you'd be a lookin for Indians”, said Mathis as he walked away.

As he rode out on to the grassland he heard the scolding, barking of the prairie dogs that stood erect on their hind legs looking at him and the horse. Others searched the sky for hawks, owls and eagles, then all of them quickly entered their tunnel homes as he neared the rodent village. A lone vulture rode the air currents high in the sky looking for carrion down below. Bees searched for nectar from the wild flowers. Most now absent of blooms as fall and winter approached. In the distance a young coyote chased field mice that he found in the dry grass.

By noon he had found nothing to indicate that Sioux war parties or a lone rider had had been or was in the area. He rode the Cayuse to the top of a small knoll. Dismounted then sat eating a lunch of dried buffalo meat, meat that the army had taken from the Sioux. Occasionally, he took swigs of water from his canteen. As he ate his thoughts as usual turned to Virginia. “So, she was with the keeper of the buffalo robe. Tashina pte, the old woman had called it, buffalo robe. What's so important about a buffalo robe? He would ask Sandy or Barney when he got back to camp”.

At dusk Jim and Sandy cooked their army ration of salt pork and beans. Sandy did most of the cooking while Jim boiled the coffee, watching the pot, judging the strength of the brew by time and experience.

“I'll tell you something Jim. I'm damn tired of breaking my teeth on this army hardtack. I think tonight I'll make some bannock”.

“Never heard of it. What's bannock”, Jim said.

“It's a type of fired bread. French fur trappers have made it for years.

What you need is lard, flour to make the dough and a frying pan to fry it in. how about you go see what you can get from the cooks”, said Sandy.

Twenty minutes later Jim returned carrying a large scoop of lard inside a used, tomato can. “Here you are. Listen. I want you to tell me everything you know about this buffalo thing. Like, why is it so important to the tribes”.

Sandy placed the lard in the frying pan and then placed the pan over the fire. As he watched the lard slowly melt he said, “As far as I know, the buffalo robe they're talking about is a white, buffalo robe. They say it's used to cover the sacred pipe”.

“Sacred pipe?”

“Yep. Now, you as a good Christian you profess to revere Jesus Christ, don't you?”

“Of course”.

“Well the plains Indians revere the White Buffalo Calf Woman. To them she is the Messiah. Legend has it that she appeared to the people who were starving and gave them the buffalo. She also gave them the sacred pipe. It's called the Chanupa. The stem is held in the right hand and the bowl with the left. When the stem and the bowl are put together it represents man and woman. When White Buffalo Calf Woman left, she rolled over on the ground four times. After each roll she appeared as a buffalo calf of a different color. Finally, on the last roll she materialized as a white buffalo calf. Since then, they hold the white buffalo as sacred. The sacred pipe is kept in a skin bag and the bag wrapped in the buffalo robe. To them it is a holy object. So, whoever keeps the sacred pipe and the white buffalo robe is a holy man or woman. The White Buffalo Calf Woman also gave the people seven sacred rites”, explained Sandy.

“So, this fella, One Horn is the Medicine Man”, said Jim

“Probably, providing the old squaw was telling the truth. If she was, then it's like Barney said. One Horn could be anywhere”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

Winter At Fort Rice On the Yellow Stone River

 

After the battle of White Stone Hill General Sully marched back to Fort Pierre. He had wounded that needed medical treatment. In addition he was short of supplies. With winter quickly approaching he needed replacements, food, fodder and winter clothing. He decided to wait before going after the tribes and while he did he planned the construction of a new fort.

Jim and Sandy rode out each day in search of the Sioux, looking for any sign of war parties. In particular they looked for sign in those areas used by the woodcutters and water gatherers. Both work parties presented easy targets when working outside of the fort. Yet, as they inspected every bent blade of grass, each bush, high grass and low grass there was no evidence that war parties were near.

During his leisure time Jim learned about the Sioux, their spoken languages, sign language, religion and customs. Eventually, Jim and Sandy were assigned to Colonel Daniel J. Day of the Thirteenth Wisconsin Infantry. Days orders were to construct a new fort at a place called, Long Lake Creek. Sully had received word from Washington that the Sioux, still angry about Whites passing through their land had been attacking civilians, wagon trains and steamboats. As a result fifteen steamboats had been dispatched to the upper Missouri River, all loaded with men and supplies. They would arrive when the river was free from ice.

Out early in the morning Jim rode the banks of the Missouri River looking for any sign of the Sioux. By noon he crossed over and inspected the shoreline of the Yellow Stone River. Riding his mount at a slow walk his eyes examined his immediate surroundings. Then he saw them. He stopped the horse, dismounted and kneeling down studied the moccasin clad footprints in the sand. Now, as a result of gained experience he was able to tell that the prints were one or two days old. He stood up and turned in the direction of the construction site of the new fort. It was easy to see that the Sioux had been watching the movements of the army.

Arriving back at the building site Jim reported directly to Colonel Day.”Sir, it appears are out there watching us. They probably come before daylight and hole up on the banks of the Yellow Stone. They're probably counting how many men and horses you have. By now they now that you don't have cannon, something they fear the most. The cottonwood trees growing near the river provides them with a lot of cover. It might be a good idea to cut those down, instead of the trees your taking now.”

“That means cutting and hauling logs a greater distance. It also means a loss of time”, said the Colonel.

“Better a loss of time than a loss of life”, Jim replied.

“I guess you're right. It means sending out additional men to protect the woodcutters, but I'll do it. I'll have to send word to General Sully explaining the delay”, said Colonel Day.

Each day cottonwood trees were cut down and removed from the rover bank. Each day the construction of the new fort proceeded and the logs were used first, to build the stockade wall and when finished measured five hundred and ten by five hundred feet. The blockhouses guarded the northeast and southwest corners of the fort. Other buildings built inside the formation were built with log walls and sod roofing.

As winter set in construction of the fort slowed. Each morning ice formed on the river banks and the flow of the water carried larger slabs of ice everyday. The ground in and around the fortification was white with hoarfrost or snow. The cottonwood forest that had grown on the banks of the Missouri and Yellow Stone Rivers were gone. Left were the remaining stumps and when covered with snow resembled white, headstones in a cemetery.

An army wagon train arrived from Fort Pierre carrying food, fodder and buffalo hide overcoats. In addition overshoes made of buffalo pelts were issued. Jim found the overcoat warm, but the overshoes made it difficult to place his feet in the stirrups. Still, each day he saddled the Cayuse and rode out on the now frozen prairie searching for any sign of the tribes.

With the Spring thaw the ice began to leave the rivers and the first steamboat arrived carrying needed supplies. New, army replacements came ashore. Many of them were former Confederate prisoners of war, now called “Galvanized Yankees”. These men enlisted in the Union Army and volunteered to fight Indians on the western frontier rather than rot in a Union prison.

Among the supplies were the newly issued Spencer Repeating Rifle.

Jim and Sandy stood and watched and listened as a Sergeant instructed the garrison on the nomenclature and use of the weapon. Later, both men sighted in their issued weapons out on the grassland.

“Well? What do you think?', asked Cahill after both men had shot several rounds.

“Nice having seven rounds and the fifty two caliber cartridge has enough power to knock a man off of his feet or out of his saddle. It doesn't have the range of the Springfield. But rapid fire is an asset”, said Jim.

“Just remember to cock the hammer for each shot”, Cahill responded.

That evening they sat by a fire eating antelope steaks and tipsula (wild turnip). The two men had hunted for and cooked their own meals, a result of sickness hitting the ranks at the fort. Men began to die from diseases, scurvy, typhoid, chronic diarrhea and other illnesses. Jim and Sandy believed the cause was army issued food. To them scurvy was one clue as fresh fruit and vegetables being served was rare. Out of habit as well as necessity they rode two miles up stream to fill their canteens with water from the river. Eighty men died from one disease or another and were buried in the newly created cemetery.

Sandy took a sip of black coffee from his cup. As he did he noticed the far away look in Jim's eyes. “Something on your mind Jim?”, he asked.

“Just thinking. It's been two years since the Minnesota raids. Two years of looking, searching for her and getting no where”.

“Well, at least the army has punished the Sioux”,Sandy replied. “The only Sioux being punished are the women and children. The warriors are born to either hunt or fight. If they die they expect to walk the spirit path and rest in the place for the souls. To them there is no suffering if they die in battle. It is the women and children who are left to suffer”, said Jim.

“Still feeling sorry for them aren't you? You seem to forget that they killed your family, your gal's family and if she's still alive is a captive and probably a slave,”said Sandy.

“No, I haven't forgotten, but I do remember that it was the cheating traders and a corrupt Bureau Of Indian Affairs that caused the uprising.”

“Well, come the thaw Sully will re-supply, train his green troops and get ready to march again. So a lot more warriors are going to die and so will their women and children. Get use to it”, said Sandy.

“I'm not going to argue with you Sandy, but I'll never get use to it”.

“Suit yourself, but the word is that they found gold in Montana and Idaho Territory. Sully received orders to keep the way open for civilians headed that way. That means the Missouri River and the grassland pointing north. All the land west of the river the Sioux claim as theirs. Don't expect them to send out invitations to come into their land”.

“I agree, but someday, the army is going to get its ass kicked. I don't know where or when, but its going to happen”, Jim replied as he got up to wash his plate and cup.

As anticipated, with the spring thaw, Sully received steamboat traffic carrying men and material. His troops were now armed with the new Spencer Carbines. Fresh horses were unloaded, assigned and trained. Army food improved and the deadly diseases disappeared from the fort.

In early June Sully took his First Brigade containing seventeen hundred men and marched, following the Missouri River west, into the Sioux homeland. About the same time fifteen hundred and fifty men left Fort Ridgely in Minnesota.

The two scouts rode out two miles in front of the advancing column of troops. They worked their horses back and forth across the prairie looking for sign of the Sioux and their ponies. They found nothing. As the sun began setting they joined up together and began the ride back towards the army. Cahill suddenly pulled on the reins of his mount stopping the animal. “Wait a minute Jim. Something out there is coming our way”, he said.

Jim turned in his saddle and looked. “It appears to be Barney and he's leading three horses”.

“Yep, and it looks like three bodies draped over the saddles,”said Sandy.

They waited until Barney reined up beside them.“Good to see you two. Got me three deserters that quit the army to run away to the gold fields. Three of them rebel boys”, said Barney.

“By the look of them the Sioux got em before they got too far”, said Sandy.

“Yep, shot em full of arrows, and took their hair. How some ever, I want you two to ride the trail I made comin here. When you get to the spot where I found these three start lookin for the bastards what did this. Meanwhile, I'll send some troops back this way to bring them in. Don't matter much be they alive or be they dead. Here's what's left of the grub I be carryin. Hope you got more. If not, hunt for what you need. Now, I'm a going before these here bodies a start to ripen. See you when you get back”, said Mathis as he nudged his horse forward.

The two scouts didn't ride too far before daylight failed. Winter in the Dakota Territory meant only nine hours of daylight and seeing an old buffalo wallow they stopped and decided to make camp there. After hobbling their horses they made a cold camp and spent the rest of the night alternating between sleep and standing guard.

In the morning they were on the move again following the trail that Barney Mathis made as he had crossed the grassland. Shortly before noon they came to the spot where the soldiers had been killed. Cahill spotted the traces of blood on the grass where one of the troopers had been bleeding from his wounds before he died. From there they picked up the sign left by the war party. Sandy figured that there was five in the group after noticing the different hoof prints in the soil.

Moving slowly through the tall wheat grass they came to a small, rise in the landscape. Cahill brought his horse to a halt and using binoculars looked long and hard at the prairie in the distance. “Up ahead, about a mile there's a small stand of pines. They could be in there”, said Sandy.

“Barney said he was sending back troopers to bring them in”, said Jim.

“By the time the soldiers get here these bastards will be gone. We'll have to take them. The way I figure, we got repeating rifles. They have bow and arrows and now is the time to take them”.

“Have you thought of the possibility of those deserters having their Spencer's with them when they were killed?”, asked Jim.

“Good thinking. Now, that presents a slight problem should the Sioux have those carbines. I think the best thing to do is go rushing in, shooting all the way. Kill as many as we can. Barney said, dead or alive”,Sandy suggested.

“I say take them alive”, offered Jim.

“I agree, providing they surrender, added Sandy.

Dismounted, they walked beside their horses as they headed for the copse of pine trees. A slight winter breeze carried the odor of burning wood from the Sioux camp fire. Cahill held up one hand, a signal to stop. Using the binoculars again he peered into the group of trees. He could see smoke rising into the air. As he looked he saw five warriors sitting by the fire. All were wrapped in blankets. None were on watch or guard. Moving his head he counted five Indian ponies and two Army Cavalry mounts. He stood studying the situation. He noticed the warrior group were laughing and talking as they passed a bottle of whiskey around amongst themselves.

“Appears they get a bottle of whiskey from somewhere. That being the case they're probably half drunk. No one is on guard and no one is watching the horses. We'll get a little closer then mount up. Let's get out of these overcoats and boots. We don't want to be hampered when it comes to the fight. Right now, check your weapons, said Cahill.

As they moved cautiously across the grass covered sod sandy suddenly changed his direction moving to his left.

“Where are you going?”, asked Jim.

“The wind shifted. Those ponies won't like the smell of white men. They pick up our scent they'll start raising hell and those warriors will be up and fighting, drunk or sober,” Sandy explained in a whisper.

Fifteen minutes later and with no sign that the Sioux knew that they were there, the two men climbed into their saddles. Now, with the wind in their face they removed the Spencer carbines from the leather scabbards and placed a cartridge in the breech. Nudging their horses forward they moved towards the stand of trees. After one hundred yards they urged their mounts to trot. At fifty yards to the trees their horses were running at the gallop and the breath of the rushing steeds turned into steam as they raced across the prairie towards the trees.

One warrior came out of the wooded area trying to determine what it was that he was hearing. Sandy pulled back the hammer on the carbine, took aim and fired. The fifty two caliber bullet struck the Sioux high in the chest and sent him sprawling backwards as he fell to the ground.

Now, the two scouts were into the tree sheltered campsite. Four warriors stood up, throwing off their blankets and reaching for their weapons. One held a Spencer carbine. Again, Cahill fired from the saddle.

The shot killed the man instantly and his body fell into the fire. One warrior using a bow shot and arrow at Jim who shot in self defense. The bullet struck the man in the stomach spinning the assailant around before he fell. Jim felt his horse collapse and go to its knees. Rolling over on the ground then sitting up Jim saw that two of the Sioux had their hands up, surrendering.

Speaking in Sioux, Sandy yelled, “Ayusta!” (give up) Hecheto!”(It's finished) the remaining two Sioux did not move, Jim got slowly to his feet, saw that Cahill had the Sioux covered with the carbine then went to check on the Cayuse. The horse was down. Blood foamed as the animal exhaled through its nose. Jim saw that the arrow meant for him had missed and struck the mount, piercing its lungs.

“There's a length of raw hide in my saddle bags Jim. Get it and tie these bastards up while I keep them covered. And, bound them tight'.

When the captured warriors were tied and secured Jim walked back to where his horse lay. He saw that the animal was suffering as it tried to breath with a collapsed lung. He slowly removed the Colt revolver from the holster, pulled back the hammer with his thumb and fired one shot into the brain of the Cayuse ending both its life and its suffering. After replacing the weapon back in the holster he then removed the tack from the dead horse. He then turned and looked at the Sioux horses. All were in good shape. He noticed a large, mare, a black and white paint. As he walked up to the mare it began to shy away. “Easy girl, easy”, he said. The animal continued to move away even though it was hobbled.

“Speak to it in Sioux. That horse has never heard one word of English. To her you sound different and you smell different', said Sandy.

Jim raised a hand to pet the mare and as he did he spoke softly using the Sioux word for friend, “Cola”. Once again the animal shied away. Patiently, Jim repeated the word and eventually he was able to touch the mare. He scratched behind the horses ears, and rubbed its muzzle all the while talking to the mare. Moving slowly as he talked he removed the Indian saddle from the back of the animal and replaced it with his own.

Sandy gathered three Spencer carbines, wrapped them in a blanket and tied the bundle to one of the Sioux horses. He then helped the two captives to mount their ponies. Turning to Jim he said, “That one on the ground, the one you shot. He's still alive. Shoot him”.

“He's wounded. I can't shoot a helpless man”, Jim responded.

“If that was you instead of him, he'd be pulling off your scalp right now. Shoot him!”, Cahill ordered.

“No! If you want him shot, you shoot him!”,said Jim loudly.

Sandy took out his revolver, walked over to where the Sioux lay on the ground, pulled back the hammer of his Colt and shot the wounded man in the head.

“That was murder”, said Jim.

“Yep, it sure was. We don't have time to nurse a wounded man and an enemy at that all the way back to the fort. You're the one that shot him. I was the one who put him out of his misery, but you call it anything you want”, said Sandy as he mounted his horse.

There was a wall of silence between the two white men as they rode back to the fort. The Sioux captives aware that the two wasichu's (White men) spoke their language remained silent in the saddle. Sandy led the group while Jim brought up the rear herding the horses and watching the back trail. Two hours later they saw the patrol sent out by Barney Mathis and they kept moving towards it. When they met with the Cavalry they gave the Indian captives to the care of the troops. Relieved of the responsibility of the prisoners Sandy and Jim fell in line behind the cavalry, then rode in silence all the way to Fort Rice.

The next morning Jim stood in the sutler's store buying a new pair of socks. Somewhere out beyond the parade ground the sound of a volley of rifle shots was carried on the air. Jim turned towards the sound. “Wonder what that was?”, he said aloud.

The store clerk said matter of factually, “Just the firing squad. They're executing those two Indians that was brought in yesterday”.

“Executed? They didn't even have a trial”, said Jim.

“Didn't need one. They found the scalps of those three dead deserters tied in their ponies mane as decoration”, explained the merchant.

Jim paid for the socks, placed them in his overcoat pocket and after walking outside headed for where he saw a small crowd gathering. As he approached the people assembled there he saw the people begin to leave.

A toothless old man grinned at him and said, “You be too late. Execution is over. They be cuttin off the heads right now. May be so you'll be lucky and get to see the last one decapitated”.

Seeing Sandy Jim walked up to him. “Just what in the hell is going on?”, he asked

“The army executed those two we captured yesterday”, Cahill replied.

“I know, but I want to know why. We brought them in for questioning, not to be executed and beheaded', Jim said in anger.

“The General saw the bodies of the deserters. Not only were they scalped, but they were mutilated. They were shot full of arrows. Thighs and calf’s in their legs cut and slashed, eyes cut out. Even their stingers were cut off. Then, they found the deserter's scalps tied in the ponies manes. Guess the General kinds wants to get even. He'll send the bodies out on to the grassland and dump them where Sioux war or hunting parties are sure to find them, making sure they notice that the heads have been removed. Word I get is the heads will be placed on sticks in a location where the women and children dig for timpsula,”said Cahill.

“Wasn't it you that told me sometime ago that Sioux warriors mutilate the bodies of their enemies so they can't walk in the here after and that they removed the eyes of their enemies so they can't see to hunt or fight again in Mapiyah(heaven)?”

“Yep. I sure did”, Cahill replied.

“Then what does the General expect?”, asked Jim.

“Expect? I'll tell you what he expects. He expects to beat the Sioux into submission. He expects them to come to him to sign a treaty. He expects the Sioux to go and live on a reservation. He expects them to live like the white man and give up the old ways. He expects them to become civilized. That's what he expects”, said Cahill.

“Civilized. You call beheading two executed prisoners being civilized?”, asked Jim.

Sandy shook his head. “There's just no talking to you. Maybe the best thing for you to do is go and buy a blanket and go live with them. Sit on your ass in a tipi and have a squaw wait on you hand and foot. But, let me tell you this. You and your tipi and all the tipi's will be swept away by progress. They are in the way and if you are with them,, then you are in the way', he said as he walked away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

Rescue

 

By June 1864 four thousand troops occupied Fort Rice. Steamboats were moored on the Missouri River ready to take troops that would be kept in reserve should General Sully need them as he advanced against the Sioux following that watercourse. In addition, two artillery batteries with eight howitzers were ready to roll when the General gave the command.

Sully left two thousand men at Fort rice with orders to protect civilian emigrants, then began his campaign against the tribes. As his troops marched across the grassland Barney Mathis ordered Cahill and Joel Bean to scout two miles ahead of the column. Jim and Horace Green were ordered to search along the shore of the river and to look for any sign of the Sioux Village or indications of warriors in the area and if so their strength.

Jim now rode an army issued mount. The Indian mare he had taken was still uneasy and unfamiliar with white men. Still, on his off time Jim worked with the paint and saw that he was making some progress with the animal.

Green leaned sideways in the saddle and spat a stream of mixed saliva and tobacco on to the grass. “Ain't none of my business, but how comes it that you ain't riding with Cahill?”, he asked.

“Let's just say that we had a disagreement”, Jim answered.

“Well, like I said, ain't none of my business”.

When they reached the river they found that the bank was a combination of rock, weeds and tall, yellow grass. It was a clear day and Jim looked over the calm, flowing water examining the far banks of the waterway searching with his eyes, looking for any signs of recent activity. Seeing none he concentrated on the sky finding it powder blue, with thin, whips of clouds and no sign of rain.

Horace Green trans-versed the grassland looking for any marks made by horse or man. Finding none he joined Jim near the river. The two then continued along the river banks. A mile later, they came to a place where the bank was high and steep. Here the earth of the shoreline was a combination of tan and yellow in color. Cottonwood trees crowded each other seeking space in order to grow and down at the waters edge driftwood logs were piled high, one on top of another having floated at one time in the turbulent storm waters of the Missouri. They appeared as large, white bones baking and bleaching in the sun.

As the scouts followed the shoreline of the river they began to see signs of past activity. Trampled grass, travois marks in the soil hoof prints and footprints began to appear until eventually, they came to a place where there was a wide swath cut in the earth. Here, the ground had been scratched and scored by people, dogs and horses all moving towards the badlands. As they moved their numbers wore away the prairie grass and left a dark, brown, streak on the soil, a quarter of a mile wide, and miles long.

Jim got off of his horse bent over and picked up a handful of loam. “Good land for farming. Someday, someone will work this land. Right now, I'd say the tribes were here yesterday. The soil is still damp to the touch”, he said.

“Well, one things for sure. They'll stop before they get to the bad lands. More than likely they're up ahead. Village this size going top need water and graze”, said Green.

Back in the saddle Jim once again followed the shoreline of the river. As they rode they began to see a gray haze on the skyline, a miasma raising up into the sky. They determined that what they were seeing was smoke from hundreds of cooking fires.

Coming to a place where a small tributary branched off of the river Horace raised up in his saddle and looked in the confluent' s direction. “Got to be they went that way. They ain't going to put the river to their backs, specially where it be wide and deep. Means no escape crossin the water. Likely they be camped on this here off shoot”, he said.

Jim left the saddle then took a pair of binoculars from his saddle bags.”Alright, I'm going to the top of that rise straight ahead. From there I should be able to see something. You cover me with the Spencer”, he told Horace

Following a coulee until the land began undulated with hills and knolls he then slowly climbed to the top of the highest mound and removed his hat. Prone, he placed the binoculars to his eyes, adjusted them and looked to the north. What he saw made him take a deep breath and a hard swallow. In a coulee twenty Indian ponies stood, some drinking. Standing on the high bank of the stream was one man watching the herd. In the distance there was a lone cottonwood, a tree held sacred by the Sioux and as far as he could see were the tipi lodges of the tribes. Sunlight beat down on the white, buffalo hide structures intensifying his view of them. He saw tipi's to the north and to the west, on flat land and on hills. From designs painted on the outer walls of the tipi's Jim was able to tell that the tribal bands had come together. He saw symbols of Yanktonia, Hunkpapa, Sihaspa, Miniconju, Sans Arc and Santee. In all he estimated that before him were five hundred to five hundred and fifty dwellings. I was possible that a thousand warriors could face General Sully.

Jim slowly backed away from the hilltop and after crawling stood and walked down off of the hill. As he climbed into the saddle he turned to Horace Green and said, “Best we get back as soon as possible. From what I just seen this is going to be one hell of a fight”.

When they met the advancing column Jim and Horace reported directly to General Sully. “If what you say you saw is true and I believe it is, then it's possible that we may face a thousand warriors. Alright, what will be will be.” Turning to his officers Sully said, “Gentlemen, I want an advancing hollow square. Put the horses, mules, artillery and ammunition in the center. All troops will be on foot until such time I feel that it's the right time to attack. At this time I want to emphasize the importance of the rear guard. Gentlemen, you may form your units”.

As the officers left the briefing with their orders Barney Mathis walked up to Jim. “Nice work, how some ever, in case you ain't heard, Sandy ran into some bad luck. Sioux winged him with a lucky shot. He be back in the ambulance. The doctor said he'll be alright, but he's sure as hell out of this fight”, he said.

“I'll check on him as soon as I can. Right now I've got to tend to my horse”, Jim replied.

Soon the hollow square that stretched a mile long on both sides began its march towards the Sioux encampment. As it did small pockets of resistance began to form. Warriors first shouted insults at the advancing troops from hill tops or horse back. Individual sporadic gunfire could be heard but no rounds hit any trooper. Mounted Sioux fighters demonstrated acts of bravery as they charged at the line of blue clad soldiers yet, did no damage. Then, on orders from their officers the troops began to return fire. Warriors began to fall from their saddles as the Spencer rounds struck them. Those that lay on the ground as the military passed over them were dispensed with another shot and left for dead.

As the Sioux gathered in force the front rank of the hollow square opened, allowing unrestricted space for the artillery to commence firing. Quickly the warriors abandoned the idea of gathering together. Instead they decided to attack the rear of the square, but once again artillery fire killed many of the Sioux attackers.

Sully's hollow square kept advancing. Realizing that they could not stop the on pressing army the warriors decided to protect their women and children who were packing up tipi's and equipment. Still, the Yanktonai and Santee attacked Sully's left flank while the Tetons attacked his right. While this was happening orders were given to mount and three platoons of cavalry counter attacked supported by artillery and infantry fire. The Sioux were now forced to fight in close quarters and many fell as a result of the saber and revolver fire.

As daylight faded and darkness increased Sully halted his advance for the night. Nonetheless he ordered his artillery to bombard the Indian village. In the dark of night many Sioux left abandoning tipi's and property.

As they did General Sully called for his casualty reports. He had lost three men killed and ten men wounded. The Sioux lost between fifty to one hundred warriors killed. Jim paid no attention to the report as he had seen or heard false reports before.

At daylight the next morning Jim stood sipping hot coffee from a tin cup. A short distance away was the remains of the Sioux village. He heard the barking of a hundred dogs, the wailing of the women and the cries of children, some looking for their parents. He tossed the dregs in his cup on the ground, placed the cup with his gear then began the walk to the village. Looking up at the morning sky he saw that the vultures were beginning to circle, riding the air currents as they looked down on the dead bodies of horses, dogs, old people, warriors, women, children and infants.

When he entered the village he stepped over bodies then watched the camp dogs stand and bark or sulk away with their tails tucked between their hind legs. What he saw made him sick. Sioux bodies, some whole others blown apart by the constant bombardment of Sully's artillery lay in different positions on the blood soaked ground. Daylight not only brought the vultures but it also brought the flies and they landed on the faces of the dead, so many at times that the features of the victims were completely covered. Then, he saw her. He saw her blond hair and his heart began to beat faster and tears of joy welled in his eyes. He wanted to run to her, to shout her name, but he took his time walking to where she sat in front of one of the only tipi's still standing. Her deer skin dress was soiled with dried blood and soot covered most of her face, but her strawberry blond hair stood out like a beacon that drew him to her.

She heard his footsteps as he approached her. Raising her head she looked at him and began to cry. Between deep sobs she spoke to him, “James, James Wellington. Is that you?”

He stopped where he was as disappointment filled him. It wasn't Virginia. Then, regaining his composure he walked slowly up to the woman. “I'm sorry, but I don't think I know you and if I do I don't recognize you”, he said.

“I'm Kathleen Higgins James. Kathleen Higgins from Ulm. They took me during the uprising. I've been a captive ever since. It's been hell James. Please don't ask me what they did to me. It's too embarrassing, but as bad as it was it was nothing compared to yesterday when the army guns killed my baby”, she said as she began to cry.

Jim looked at the deerskin bundle that she held in her arms a bundle that contained the remains of her child. What could he do? What could he say to a woman who the army had in a way rescued her from captivity, but at the same time indirectly took the life of her baby?

“Kathleen, I'm sorry. I didn't recognize you. I haven't seen you since we went to school together. Then, your family moved to Ulm. Listen, I'm here now. I'll take care of you. I'll see to it that you get fed, have the army doctor look at you, and make sure that you get new clothing and transportation back home”.

“Home? There is no home James. They burned it to the ground the day they took me”.

“Come, come with me. We'll have the doctor look at you, then we'll get you something to eat. You'll get a new dress at Fort rice”, said Jim.

“I can't leave my baby James. The dogs will get it' “I'll come back and take care of it”, he answered.

 

 

“Promise me?”

“I promise”, he replied.

As they walked back to the Army Surgeons tent, erected to tend to the wounded Jim asked, “After all these years how did you recognize me?”

“Your limp. You walk the same as you did back in school”, she answered.

After reporting the finding of a white, captive woman Jim led Kathleen to the medical tent. “They'll take care of you here. I'll come back to see what else you need”, said Jim.

Returning to the village he saw soldiers and Winnebago scouts shooting and killing the dogs. Large fires burned in different locations of the Sioux camp. Tipi's, meat, clothing, hides, utensils, tools, weapons, anything and everything used by the Sioux was destroyed.

Jim walked back to the place where he had met Kathleen. There he found the deerskin bundle containing the remains of Kathleen's baby. From the size of the of the pack and the weight he determined that the child had been an infant. He carried the dead child to where a roaring fire sent flames and sparks into the morning sky and with some effort managed to place the body of the baby into the inferno. As he turned to walk away he saw the soldiers and Indian scouts begin to shoot the women and children.

Back at the army bivouac Jim went to see Sandy Cahill. He found him on the ground leaning against his saddle. A large bandage was wrapped around his right thigh.

“I heard you got hit, bullet or arrow?”,asked Jim.

“Arrow, and the head of it is lodged in my leg bone. The doctor says he can't take it out here in the field. I'll have to wait until we get back to Fort Rice. Once there, I guess they'll go digging for it. I heard that you and Horace Green found the Sioux village. Looks like you tuned out to be an army scout after all”, said Sandy.

“Maybe. If so, then it's a good way to go out. I'm done. I just came here to see how your are and to thank you for everything you've done for me and of course, to say good by'”.

“Good by? Hell, there's another battle brewing. You can't quit now. Sully needs you”, said Cahill.

“No he doesn't. He's hired Winnebago scouts. According to him they work cheaper and better. They also do his bidding by killing women and children. Something I don't go for Sandy”.

“Ah yes, there it is again. You the idealist, wanting a perfect world where everyone gets along and lives happily ever after,” said Sandy.

“If I were to describe an idealist it would be you and your kind. You want to change the world. You want to take away the land of the Indian. Take away his customs, his religion and his way of life and what for? So you can take what is his, what was always his, the land and the buffalo. Your kind will carve up and divide his land into lots and sell them as real estate. You'll build and run railroads over the buffalo range. Steamboats will cruise his rivers and more and more of you will force him on to God forsaken parcels of land and force him to become a farmer. If you can't destroy him you'll destroy his way of life. However, like I said, I'm done. Th only Indian I will kill is one that tries to kill me. So, I'm saying good by. You and I don't see eye to eye and there's no way we ever will.

Here's my hand. Good luck, stay healthy and keep your hair Sandy”, said Jim as the two men shook hands.

The next day Jim rode along the side one of the ambulances that carried the wounded back to Fort Rice. Kathleen Higgins sat next to the teamster and from there she talked to Jim. “Does that Paint belong to you?”, she asked.

“Yes, why?”,asked Jim

“To tell you the truth this wagon seat is very uncomfortable”

“You can ride the mare if you want, but I don't have a saddle for her”, he said

“James, you forget that I’m a farm girl. I learned how to ride bareback before I learned to walk”.

Jim dismounted and helped the woman down from the ambulance. He then fashioned a rope bridle and helped her mount the horse. Once Kathleen was settled he climbed up on to the saddle of the army horse and the two of them began the ride to Fort Rice. As they rode side by side and out of earshot of the teamster, Kathleen asked, “What did you do with Tika?”

He turned and looked at her. “Flower? Was that your baby's name?”

“Yes. Jim? Did you save her from the village dogs?”

“Kathleen, she's where no one or no thing can get to her. Her body is safe”.

“Thank you”.

Riding together across the grassland they talked of the days when they were children and schoolmates back in Minnesota. They spoke of the people they knew and their lives up to the Sioux uprising.

“So, you came looking for your Virginia. As far as I know, no one came looking for me”, said Kathleen sadly.

“That's not true. This entire Army under the command of General Sully came looking for you and others like you”, Jim replied.

“Like me? What does that mean? Do you mean an Indian's White woman? When you get time please introduce me to the man because he loved me came looking for me. If you can't, then introduce me to the man who will want me after he knows I was used by a Sioux warrior”, she said with tears in her eyes.

For the next hour they rode in silence, neither knowing what to say. The small procession of ambulances containing the wounded along with the mounted escort made their way across the prairie.

That evening as night fell Jim made a fire, filled the coffee pot half full with water and set it on the fire to boil. As he was slicing salt pork he heard footsteps approaching in the semi-darkness. He looked up and saw Kathleen. “Got enough for two?”, she asked.

“Food? Yes. Knife, fork, spoon, plate and cup, no. however, you eat, first, then I'll eat. Hope you like salt pork”, he said.

“I haven't seen or tasted it in two years. Right now I'll bet it taste better than dry buffalo meat', she answered.

“Don't bet. This is army issue. Would you like coffee or tea? I have both”.

“Could I have coffee Jim?'

“Sure, hope you like it black, but I do have sugar”.

“Fine, with sugar please.”

After they finished their meal they sat by the fire. Jim sipped his coffee and from over the rim of the cup he saw the sadness on Kathleen's face. “Something wrong?”, he asked.

Kathleen offered a weak smile. “Just thinking of my daughter, my baby”.

“That's only natural. You'll never forget her nor should you. Rest assure that she is in heaven”.

“And, the dogs didn't get her”.

“Kathleen, I told you that they didn't or couldn't. Besides I heard that the army killed over a hundred dogs”.

“That's about the right number. When times are hard and there is no meat the people eat the dogs, particularly the puppies”, she said.

Jim decided to change the subject. “What will you do when you return to Minnesota?”, he asked.

“What do you suggest? Do you know of any white man who will marry me once he learns that I gave birth to a Sioux opa la (baby)?”

“At the moment, no, but there has to be someone out there who will not care about the baby. If it is that much of a concern of yours then don't tell him or anyone”.

“When I get back to Minnesota word will get around”, she replied.

“I understand that we will be compensated for out property losses.

For you, it means the house your parents owned. You can sell the land. Sell and go to a place like Philadelphia or New York”, Jim advised.

“And do what?”, she asked.

“It all depends on what you want. I know that you were one that graduated from high school. You have an education.”

“Right now I want to know that somewhere there is a white man who can love me, who can ignore what happened to me. I want to feel his arms around me, feel his lips on mine. I want to know the feelings of love instead of being unfeeling and cold as stone”, she responded.

“I can understand how you feel. However, right now you're very vulnerable. You have lost a child. You're heading back into a world and a society that will have questions and probably accusations, questions that I don't have the answers to give to you right now. When I reach the fort I'll quit my contract with the army, draw my pay and head out looking for Virginia”.

“Oh well, guess I'll go home and take the money and run. Thanks for supper”, she said as she got up and walked away.

Jim watched her disappear into the darkness. Then, his thoughts returned to Virginia. What if she was in the same situation like that of Kathleen? Would he feel the same about her or would he have questions?

Could he ignore the fact that a Sioux warrior made love to her, held her, possibly impregnated her? At that moment, he didn't know. He wanted to think that because he loved her it didn't matter, but did it? Did it matter?”

After their arrival back at Fort Rice Jim resigned as an Army Scout for Sully's expedition. He turned in the Spencer carbine that had been issued to him along with the ammunition. With the return of the army mount he now rode the black and white paint mare that he took from the Sioux.

He sat on a rough hewed bench behind a canvas curtain draped over a rope. On the other side of the drapery Kathleen Higgins soaked in an old copper bathtub as she scrubbed away dirt and grime.

“I'm writing a letter for you to take to a friend of mine, a Mister Sidney Tozer. He's a lawyer. He'll help you get your money and if interested sell your land. Then, I'm heading for the Sutler's Store. I'll also see if any of the women in the wagon train has a dress your size. If they do l'll try to buy it. Do you prefer any particular color?”, he asked,

“Any thing, but red”.

“Alright, I'll be back soon”.

“Take your time. This water is delightful”.

“Good, enjoy it”.

Jim left the room and headed for the sutler's store. He still had most of the money that Wilcox had given him. Now, with his army pay he was able to purchase the things he would need for his next journey, a passage through the badlands. This trip would be different. This time he would be alone.

He stood at the counter ordering canned fish and smoked and dried meat, what canned vegetables he could find and peaches. Added to that was coffee, flour and sugar, a small tub of lard and five pounds of salt. Salt was needed if by chance he wanted to save and preserve any meat that he hunted and killed.

“Anything else?”, asked the merchant.

“Do you happen to have a Spencer repeating carbine for sale, plus ammunition for it?”, asked Jim.

“Nope! But, I do have the new Henry. It's a forty four caliber. The magazine tube holds sixteen rounds where as the Spencer holds only seven. Also the magazine tube loads from the front instead of the rear of the stock like the Spencer. Here, take this one. Get the feel of it. Notice how smooth the lever action is. On the down stroke the lever ejects the spent cartridge casing. Here's the best part, it also cocks the hammer for each shot. Yes indeed this is a fine rifle”.

“How much?”, asked Jim.

“They're getting fifty dollars a piece for them back in the States. Mind you now, I have to pay for shipping costs to get them out here”.

“I asked you how much?”, said Jim.

“I'm asking seventy five dollars”, said the sutler.

“And, I'm offering sixty”, Jim replied.

“How about seventy dollars and I throw in another magazine tube?”

“Done”, said Jim shaking hands with the man.

“Sold, now how about cartridges?”

“Give me two hundred rounds”.

“I want you to know that they come with copper casings. Keep them clean or your rifle will jam”.

“Two hundred rounds”, said Jim again.

“No problem, anything else sir?”

“Yes, I need a mule and a woman's dress and I know that you don't have either. Do you know if any of those pilgrims out there want to sell anything for cash money?”, asked Jim.

“Matter of fact I did hear of such a family. Their name's Collins. Ask around.

“I'll do that. Now, let me settle my bill. If you don't mind, I'd like to leave my things here until I find a mule. That way I can pack and leave.”

“No problem”.

“Good, by the way is there any news on how the war is going?”, asked Jim.

“Last I heard, Sherman burned Atlanta”, the sutler answered.

It took awhile as Jim asked person after person if they knew a family named, Collins. Finally, when he was just about to give up he saw a young woman about the size of Kathleen. Jim walked up to her, removed his hat, introduced himself and told her of his plight. Ten minutes later and two dollars paid he carried a blue and white, checked, gingham dress back to where Kathleen sat on a bench wrapped in a blanket.

As she dressed behind the canvas curtain, she said, “Now, don't you go and look at me James, unless you intend to be perfectly honest. It's been nearly two years since I've worn anything but a deer skin dress. Right now, it don't feel right. No stockings, no pantaloons, or corset.”

“We'll go back to the sutler's store. I saw a set of long john's just about your size. Seems to me that most of the woman out here wear them. So, you'll be right in style, plus your bottom will be nice and warm”.

“James Wellington, you're not to speak to a girl about her bottom'.

“Sorry, just trying to explain

Kathleen came out from behind the curtain. “Well, how do I look”?, she asked.

Jim smiled. “You look beautiful. All you need now is a ribbon in your hair. And, shoes of course, but once again, there aren't any shoes here”.

“I'll keep my moccasins. I made them, besides I really don't look forward to wearing high button shoes. As far as a ribbon in my hair, well, I'm just glad to be rid of the lice', she said.

“Alright, go to the sutler, get what you need, like a comb and brush and anything else the suits your fancy. While you're doing that I'll be shopping for a mule. Then, when that's over I'll meet you at the store”.

Jim walked slowly along the rails of the pens holding the livestock of the emigrants. One pen held horses and mules, another held a few oxen. Placing one foot on the bottom rail he leaned on the fence and looked over the mules. As he did he heard a voice behind him say,” Looking to buy an animal?”

Turning, Jim saw a tall, thin, man about forty years old. He had a chewing tobacco stained beard and wore his pant legs tucked inside his boots. “Yes, I'm in the market for a mule. Do you know anyone that has one for sale?”, he asked.

“Yep, me. Got three of them. Two jenny’s and a jack. Now, I'll be telling ya that the jack is one cantankerous, son of a bitch if there ever was one. You'd be doin me a favor by takin him off of my hands for, say twenty dollars”.

Jim smiled. “How about I take a look at him first, then we'll talk price”.

“Fair enough. Wait till I get a rope on him”.

Watching the man rope the mule Jim took a long, good look at the animal. The man was right, the mule was stubborn, but then again most mules were. Finally, the mule stood quietly by the rail. Jim jumped down from the top rail and walked up to the jack. He checked the eyes, the teeth noticing that the mule was young. Next, he examined the withers. Satisfied he turned to the man and said, “Why so cheap? Is there something else I should know?”

“Nope. Like I said, he be one mean bastard. I've sold him three times and for much more than twenty dollars. Each time he were brought back. Twenty dollars and he's yourn”.

“Draw up the bill of sale”, said Jim handing the man a twenty dollar gold piece.

That night Jim and Kathleen sat by the cook fire about fifty yards west of the fort's main gate. “When will you be leaving>”, she asked.

“In the morning, about sun up”, he answered.

“They say the army is taking us back to Minnesota some time next week”.

“Good, get out of this land and rid yourself of all the bad memories”.

“I'll try, but there are things it seems that will never go away. Being used constantly by Wambleesha. That was his name you know. It means, White Eagle. He used me and kept me captive until he knew I was pregnant. Then, he took another wife. A Sioux.

The birth of Tika was hard. The tribe mid wives refused to attend me, so I gave birth to my daughter alone, by myself. I gave her a Christian name, Sara. I didn't want her. Still, I gave her life. I was her mother until this war took her away from me. Maybe it's God's way, taking her and setting me free. Now, I'll be going back to where I saw my family killed and my home burnt to the ground. So, I ask you Jim, how do you rid yourself of those memories?”

“I don't know Kathleen. I don't know. Here, I want you to have this just in case you need it. It isn't much, only a hundred dollars. It should last you until you get to Mankato', he said handing her five, twenty dollar gold pieces.

“Thank you James. Thank you for everything, especially for understanding”.

“You're welcome. Now, go. It's getting late and they'll be closing the main gate.

They both stood up and when they did Kathleen raised up on her tip toes and kissed Jim on the cheek. In the light of the fire he saw tear drops well in her eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eleven

The Village Of The Dakota

 

In the heat of august, 1864, Jim rode again on and across the grassland of the Dakota Territory. However, this time he rode alone. The captured Sioux, paint pony had accepted him and the mule, although at times stubborn presented no real problems. With a lack of rain the ever present tall, yellow wheat grass was turning brown. At times prairie chickens took flight in front of him, flying short distances only to take flight again as he headed towards them once more. There were times when he dozed off in the saddle and would be wakened by the sound of beating wings and ruffling feathers.

The sun beat down on him and to concentrate on something other than his discomfort he closed his eyes and thought of her. His Virginia.” The last time I saw her, her hair gleamed in the sunlight. She tied that blue ribbon bow from the candy box in her hair and smiled at me. The last time I saw her I wanted to kiss the sweet lips that were soft, like rose petals. The last time she laughed with me she gave me a gift of love and joy. When I heard the church bells ring each Sunday morning it meant that I would be with her soon that day. The last time I held her hand and held her in my arms, it was like god blessed the ground that she walked on. But, that seems so long ago now”.

Suddenly, the paint stopped walking, bringing Jim back to reality. He soon saw why. Ahead of him in the yellow-green grass he saw the decaying body of what was once a Lakota warrior. Jim dismounted and walked with the soft, summer breeze at his back, examined the remains.

After studying the dead man's body Jim came to the opinion that the warrior had received a mortal wound and only got this far before he died.

In all probability, the Lakota man was wounded while he was alone. Had he been with others they would have taken him back to relatives. The condition of the body made it impossible to tell if he had been shot with a gun or pierced with a lance or arrow,

Back in the saddle he watched the land change from grassland to bad land. He saw before him the black, gray, and tan, rocky hills and knolls. At those places the grass was green, but the rocky soil produced no wild flowers. He urged the paint forward and as the land was flat both the horse and mule moved across the hill surrounded prairie traveling for miles. He began looking for water knowing that the horse and mule would need it soon. At that moment he was alright, after deliberately abstaining from drinking from his canteen. Then, he saw a place ahead of him where the blue sky reflected off of a seep and he rode to it and dismounted.

He allowed the animals to drink their fill and when they were finished noticed that they wanted to eat the tender green grass that grew around the flow. As they ate he knelt down, removed his neckerchief and placed it in the water. Then, with the wet cloth he washed his face, removing the sweat, dust and dirt, and did the same to the back of his neck. When he stood he replaced the neckerchief to its original place, enjoying the coolness of the cloth.

From now on he had to be more vigilant, more alert. The tribes had been forced into this area by the advancing troops of Sibley and Sully’s artillery . Many Sioux had scattered. Now, here in the badlands they could be anywhere, on top of or around the next hill or rocky knoll. He removed the Colt revolver from the holster and checked it, masking sure that the caps and balls were in place. They were.

Shielding his eyes from the sun he looked up into the heavens and determined in his mind that he had three or four more hours of daylight left in which to travel and he mounted the paint again. The mule resisted, but eventually began to move.

An hour later he left the yellow-green grass and entered tall, brown grass that grew on the prairie, a place where dry, tan rock formations jutted up out of the ground. For awhile it was difficult going for the horse and mule, then Jim realized that the grass grew shorter near the rocky hummocks and he rode to where they were. As the sun began to set he began looking for a place to stop and camp for the night. Sioux or no Sioux, tonight he would have a fire, hot food and coffee.

Later, finding what he thought was a good place to camp, although it lacked water, he dismounted. Leading the animals into the shelter between two large boulders he tethered them to ragged rocks jutting out of the ground. He unsaddled the horse and unpacked the mule, then spent the next hour rubbing them both down with dry grass. Dry brown grass or yellow-green grass, that's all the badlands offered. As far as he could see as he gazed upon the landscape there were no signs of trees, alive or dead. The buffalo did not range here so there were no buffalo chips he could use in place of firewood. He would need to burn grass for his cooking fire. Knowing that the flames would consume the fuel quickly he gathered arm fulls of prairie growth and piled it next to the fire pit he had dug in the soil.

Jim managed to cook with one hand and feed the fire with the other. When he was finished eating he found a comfortable spot where he could lean back against a smooth boulder, relax and drink his coffee. As he did his thoughts again returned to her. “Where are you Virginia? Where ever you are I'm coming for you. Please know that dear. Know that I haven't abandoned you. Know, that I think about you at every available moment. Know that I love you, love you with all my heart “.

Darkness came quickly and he looked up into the night sky and saw the millions of stars that glimmered and gleamed in the firmament. He looked for and found the north star. Standing. he drained the last of the coffee in his cup. The brew was cold now. It cooled as he had sat thinking of her. He drank it anyway.

The next morning after a quick breakfast he was saddled, packed and on his way again. As he mounted the paint he searched the skyline for any signs of movement, such as hunting or war parties. What he did see were the high ridges that appeared in the usual, tan, brown and black colors, only now the ridge line present before him was treeless and barren.

His thoughts then turned to water or the lack of it and he reached for and took up his canteen and shook it. He judged it to be half full. Now, his priority became finding another water source, a stream or one more seep.

Shortly after high noon he came to a place where again high grass grew. However, he saw the path of naked earth created by the hoof beats, wagon wheels, canons and caissons along with the marching feet of the infantry as Sully and his command pursued the Sioux south, in the badlands. Jim turned north, towards the Montana Territory.

Two days later he rode into a green grass carpeted valley, surrounded by high grass and moss covered mounds and knolls. Ahead he could make out what was the Little Missouri River and the horse and mule, both thirsty began to smell the presence of water and began to increase their gait. To him, the river sent a message. Not only was there water to drink, but the waterway was a path that led to the village of the Dakota. Hopefully, it also led to Virginia. If not maybe, just maybe it led to One Horn and Matosapa.

He made a camp among a stand of limber pine. Happy at first to at last have water, he was also pleased to have firewood and he walked on a thick, red-brown carpet of dead pine needles as he look for kindling. Finding more than he needed he built a fire under the spreading branches of a large pine. Here, the wide branches would dissipate the smoke as it raised in the air, making it difficult to be seen. Nonetheless, there was nothing he could do to disguise the odor of burning pine wood carried on the wind. It was a chance he had to take.

The animals were secured, their reins tied to trees and to make it difficult for any young warrior wishing to steal the horse and mule and counting coup Jim tied one end of a length of rawhide high on the mules hind leg. The other end he wrapped around his wrist. Just as the Sioux paint had not liked the smell of white men when he first took the pony, the mule disliked the scent of Indians. Then, with the horse and mule somewhat protected Jim rolled out his blankets. After making and eating a quick supper he turned in for the night.

Up at sunrise he packed, then rode following the winding river. He came to a shallow place. On one side of the river green grass had grown. Now, as autumn began to warn of winter that grass was beginning to yellow. Nonetheless, on this day it extended all the way to the waters edge. On the other side long, tall pines grew and behind them in the distance were the rocky hills. Here, where he sat in the saddle the river was divided by a long, sandbar that was exposed to the eye. Jim looked to the other side and saw that a rocky tor, surrounded by weathered rock stood behind the trees. “What was hidden from his view?”, he asked himself mentally. Where he sat the river bank was flat, almost barren, not over grown with foliage. Being cautious, he decided not to cross at the shallows and continued to travel following the Little Missouri. Eventually, he came to a sandy beach. He stopped and visibly inspected the site. Here there were several flat rocks, level stones, revealing a place where the women cane to wash their clothes. Shifting his gaze from the beach he saw a well worn path and decided to follow it. He kept the paint at a slow walk. The mule followed. As he moved through sparse lodge pole pines he finally cane to the end of the narrow trail. Stopping once more he sat in the saddle looking upon a small Dakota village.

He reached for, grasped the Colt revolver then loosened it in the holster. Then, he leaned forward and did the same to the Henry carbine in the saddle scabbard. Again he sat and watched and listened for any sound or movement. The first thing he noticed was that it was perfectly still, no babies crying, no barking dogs no children at play. It appeared that the village was empty, deserted. A half dozen ravens pecked at the remains of a dead dog. He saw the sacred cottonwood pole standing upright, used for the sun dance. After waiting awhile, still cautious, he decided to dismount. When he did he tethered the animals to pole standing erect before an empty tipi. The buffalo hide had been partially removed by someone and he could see inside. Articles of clothing, baskets and blankets were neatly placed in the empty lodge. He turned and went to the next tipi. This one had a coyote skin door that was closed.

Jim removed the revolver from its holster, pulled back the door opened it and entered. In the dim interior light of the dwelling he saw cooking utensils, clothing and stored food, all apparently abandoned.

Going from one tipi to the next, searching, investigating, trying to determine just why the village was empty, Jim entered the last tipi in the clearing. Inside, in the faint light he stood and listened to a soft, but hacking cough that was coming from a pile of animal skins. With his revolver at the ready he walked slowly to the bundle and gently pulled back several pelts. When he did he looked down upon an old, wrinkled face of a woman. Her eyes were closed and it appeared that she was having trouble breathing. He placed a hand on her forehead and felt the heat of a fever that was raging through her body. Feeling the touch of a hand on her the woman opened her eyes and in a weak voice asked, “Nituwe he?” (Who are you?) “Miyeho ca kola” (I am friend) Jim answered.

As the old woman spoke, Jim understanding, the Dakota dialect

knew what she was saying. “Sick, very sick. Old, very old. I am an old woman. I am very hungry”, she said.

“Grandmother, you have pneumonia”, Jim said in English. Then, tapping his chest he said, “I'll make some tea”.

Went he went outside he stood in a cool August breeze as he unloaded the pack from the mules back. The animal stood uneasy, detecting the scent of Sioux who had lived in the village. Finding his coffee pot and tin box of tea he re-entered the tipi, started a fire and began to boil water that he took from his canteen. Soon, he had a strong tea brewed. Pouring it into a tin cup he allowed it to cool a little. Then, lifting up the old woman and supporting her he held her as she took small sips of the tea.

When she had enough she pushed his hand away gently. “Iyena, Iyena” (Enough, enough) she said in a weak voice. He helped her lay back again and covered her with skins, then added fuel to the fire to keep her warm.

As the days passed Jim prepared broths and soups feeding the woman until she was able to feed herself. Eventually, the old woman was strong enough to sit up. One day she spoke to him in a strong voice. “I am Left Handed woman. I am also a spirit woman. Who are you?”, she said in Dakota

“Jim, or James”, he answered.

“Jimorjames”, she repeated.

“Jim, Jim”, he corrected her with a smile as he tapped his chest with a finger.

Nodding her head in understanding, she repeated his name, “Jim”.

“Some of your people call me, Sicha-siha (Bad foot), he added.

One night in the glow of a dying cook fire Left Handed Woman told Jim why the village was deserted. She told of how the young men, the warriors were away fighting the Long Knives. The war parties of the Kagi (Crow) came. The old men tried to fight, but were overwhelmed. The women and children ran. Others were taken captive. He Wonjetah (One Horn) ran like a little girl. One Horn is a medicine man and keeper of the sacred bundle. But, without the sacred bundle, the Tashina pte (Buffalo robe) he has no power. The Tashina pte contains the sacred pipe, the chanupa. Without the chanupa he can not oversee the seven sacred rites and the people will know that he does not have it. It was I who ran into One horn's lodge and gathered up the sacred bundle. From there I ran deep into the forest. There, as I hid from the Kagi the grass and the trees talked to me. Me a spirit woman. They told me where to hide the Tashina pte. Do you believe me, Sicha-siha? (Bad Foot).

“Yes grandmother. I have been searching for a white woman, my beloved who was taken by the Dakota, A time ago I heard that she might have been with two men. One was named, One Horn. The other is called Matosapa. The woman has long yellow hair”, he said speaking in her language.

“The young girl is with Matosapa”,said Left Handed Woman.

“And, where is Matosapa?”

“Only One Horn knows, they are cousins”.

“Then, I must find One Horn”, said Jim.

“Ape tohatu”, (Wait for time) said the woman.

In the days that followed Left Handed Woman told Jim about the seven rites given by the White Buffalo Woman. One of these rites was the Hunk, the rite of relatives. Then, she gave him the direction needed to find the sacred bundle containing the chanupa.

“Go to the spirit of the east and see a cottonwood with the appearance of the evil spirit with horns. There, in back of the tree is a hollow place. Inside of the hollow place you will find the White, Buffalo Robe. Bring it to me”.

The next day Jim saddled the paint and with the mule walking behind he rode out of the village and headed east following the old woman's directions. He traveled over dying wild flowers. A signal that the frost had been there and that winter was on its way. The sight of tall grass changed to the sight of short barley grass appearing like feathers popping out of the soil. Then, in the distance he saw the tree line appearing green, yellow and orange on the horizon. Although it was summer the leaves on the trees were announcing that the end of summer was near. A cool, sometimes, cold breeze blew at him. He thought about the buffalo coat packed and contained in the mule pack, but decided not to stop and put it on.

Entering a small clearing surrounded by trees he stopped his mount and from the saddle took a good, long look at he area. His eyes searched for a cottonwood tree that appeared to have horns, but couldn't find it. He dismounted and led his animals to a place where there was plenty of grass, most of it dead and dry yet, there was some green. And the paint and mule began to feed. On foot he walked among the trees looking for that one particular tree. Then he saw it. The mistake he had made was in looking for a live tree. The one he found stood tall, white and gray absent of bark or leaves and with only a few remaining branches, also dead. However, it did have two prominent branches that pointed up to the sky, like arms raised or two horns.

Jim walked around the tree and in the back of it saw the hollow place Left Handed Woman had told him about. He reached into the tree's cavity and with his searching hand felt the hair of the bundle, then slowly and carefully, removed it. He stood looking at it. He saw the yellow-white color hide that came off of an albino buffalo. Knowing what was inside he would not open it, it being a sacred thing to Left Handed Woman.

Instead, he held it with reverence, then carried it back to where the horse and mule grazed. After mounting the paint he rode back the deserted village.

That night, before the fire that glowed inside the tipi, Left Handed Woman passed a clay bowl to Jim. In Dakota she said, “This is berry soup. You give food, I give food”, she said as she cut off a slice of cooked elk meat. Jim had hunted and killed the animal on his trip back to the village. Then, the spirit woman said, “I am the one now who smokes the sacred pipe”.

He sat and watched as the old woman opened the sacred bundle and removed a deer skin pouch. From the pouch she took the red-stone bowl and stem of the pipe. Jim knew the legend of the sacred pipe and he watched as Left Handed Woman held the bowl in her left hand, signifying woman and the stem in her right hand, signifying man. He listened to the prayers she made to Waken Tankan (Great Spirit) and watched as she joined the two pieces of the pipe together. From a bead decorated pouch she removed a pinch of tobacco and placed it in the bowl of the pipe. Lighting the tobacco with a burning twig from the fire she drew in the strong smoke and blew it out of her mouth. Then, raising the pipe she presented it to the east, west, north and south. As she did more prayers and chants were given. When she was finished she looked at Jim and in her own language said, “We are now relatives. You are like my son”.

“Thank you. I am honored”, said Jim, speaking Dakota.

The old woman smiled and said, “Wote, wote {Eat, eat).

As the days and night passed by the old woman told Jim about the Paha Sapa, the Black Hills. To the Sioux the place was sacred,, the center of the world. There, warriors go to receive visions and to speak to the Great Spirit, Waken Tanka, she had said.

He listened carefully as she advised him on how to find Matosapa and the young white woman. She told him to take the sacred bundle into the Paha Sapa. “Once in the sacred hills hide the buffalo robe. Once the robe is hidden ride further into the hills for another day. When stopped by warriors demand to see One Horn, saying that you have the sacred bundle and wish to talk with the Medicine Man. If threatened show my sign which I will give you. One Horn will doubt you at first. Take this pouch. Inside are some white hairs from the tashina pte (buffalo robe). One Horn will recognize them and know that you speak the truth. Then, tell him that in exchange for the sacred bundle you want Matosapa and your woman. For the Buffalo Robe One Horn will do and give anything.

Now, my son. Go down to the river and there pick the purple berries that are used for dye and bring them back to me. With them I shall make and give you my sign which will give you safe passage in and out of the Paha Sapa (Black Hills)”, she said.

That night Jim sat and watched as Left Handed Woman squeezed the juice out of the poke berries. When she had enough of the juice that she wanted in a clay bowl she unfolded a piece of white, doe skin. Placing her left hand in the purple berry juice she then pressed the impression of her stained hand on to the deer hide.

“This is my sign. The people will recognize it and honor it. They will know that we are relatives, that you are my son”, she said in Dakota.

“I will wait until I know that you are finally well and strong, Ina(mother)”, he said.

“You will leave in the morning. Winter comes soon”.

The next morning as the sun began to rise Left Handed woman stood outside of her lodge. She looked at Jim and said, in Dakota, “It is finished. I shall see you again in the place of the souls. May the great Spirit bless you”.

Jim took the old woman in his arms and kissed her cheek, and said so she could understand him, “Many thanks mother”. When he released her Left Handed Woman turned and without another word entered her tipi. When she did Jim climbed up into the saddle and rode off, heading for the Black Hills.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

Paha Sapa

 

When he was about an hours ride out of the village it began to snow. Jim looked up at the slate colored sky. He didn't know the exact month of the year, but he judged it to be the end of August or maybe the middle of September. It didn't matter, it was snowing and large, wet, flakes were dropping, landing and sticking to the ground. Fortunately, he had unpacked the buffalo robe overcoat and he stopped the horse, dismounted and put on the garment.

In the distance he saw the tree line of Ponderosa pines appearing black on the hills, giving the area its name. A two hour ride took him into the Paha Sapa (Black Hills). He entered a valley where along the flowing streams towering cottonwoods offered bright yellow foliage as they prepared to drop their leaves. A cold, shallow, running stream ran between banks of growing green grass coated now by falling snow as the horse and mule drank from the rivulet. Jim sat in wonder, marveling at the beauty of the place.

As he gazed upon the valley and the trees he noticed an abandoned eagles nest at the top of a cottonwood tree. Dismounting, he removed the sacred bundle from its place in the pack on the mule,. He wrapped it in a piece of canvas and carried it to the base of the tree. There, Jim removed his overcoat and with the Tashina pte (Buffalo Robe)secured to his body began the climb to where the nest was securely anchored to the branches of the tree. When he got there he placed the pack in the nest, then carefully covered it with leaves from the tree. Satisfied that the bundle was safe as well as hidden he slowly and carefully descended to the ground. Removing the Bowie knife from the scabbard on his hip he notched the underside of a large branch extending out over the ground creating a blaze mark, one that only he would know to look for.

On the move again he crossed the stream and headed deeper into the valley. Ahead of him he saw three young deer feeding on tender green grass as they fattened up for the on coming winter. One buck raised its head and looked at him and sensing no danger continued to feed.

Jim camped that night building and using a large fire. He wanted to be seen by the Sioux. His fire burned between two, very tall, pines. He had made his site beside a brook that gently flowed to somewhere deep in the valley to a place that was out of sight to him. As he began to cook his meal snow began to fall again. There was no wind, no sound other than an occasional crack or pop of pine sap burning within the firewood he had gathered.

Soon, the branches of the trees and the stunted cattail plants were covered with snow. When he finished eating Jim moved the horse and mule into shelter under the trees and covered them with blankets. Retuning to the stream he washed his cup and plate, then back at the fire he added more wood creating larger flames.

On the third day and deeper into the valley Jim knew that the Sioux were close and getting closer. The jack mule picking up the scent of the Indians began to act up. The mule only behaved that way when he detected the smell of Sioux carried in the air.

He came to a place where water gently fell from the high, snow and ice covered, wooded banks of a rise, then cascaded down to the valley floor where it splashed then pooled and eventually ran over smooth black rocks that jutted up out of a stream. He listened to the sound of the falling water. Then, knowing that the Dakota were near, reached back into his saddle bags. Jim removed the white doe skin with Left Handed Woman's purple hand print. Then he sat and waited.

Three warriors came out of the pine tree forest. The Sioux came slowly. Their pony’s created a crunching sound as they stepped upon crusted snow. He felt their eyes on him as they watched every and any move that he made. One of the warriors spoke to him in Dakota. “What do you want here?”.

“I am the one who searches for the Medicine man, One Horn”, Jim answered in their language.

“Why?”, asked the warrior.

“It is a secret talk”, Jim responded.

“The Black Hills are a sacred place. No white man is wanted or allowed”,

“We are relatives”, said Jim as he displayed the white doe skin with the spirit woman's hand print.

Jim then sat and watched the three Sioux men talk to each other in a hushed tone. Finally, the man who had been doing all of the talking said, “Follow us”. He followed behind them and as he did the mule, upset by the sight and scent of the Indians began to bray as he walked.

One man suddenly rode ahead then out of sight. The talkative Sioux turned to Jim and said, “He goes ahead to tell One Horn”.

“Waste (Good),” Jim replied.

As darkness fell the Dakota found a place to camp for the night. A fire was built and dried deer jerky was removed from skin pouches. The meat was offered to Jim. As he took it he said, “Pilamayaye (Thank you very much)”.

In the glow of the fire one warrior asked, “Who are you?”, speaking in his native tongue.

“My name is Jim. I am also called Sicha Shia (Bad Foot)”, Jim answered.

“I am Yellow Horse”, said the warrior tapping his chest with a finger.

The two men engaged in a long conversation. Jim spoke in the Dakota language and when unable to find the right word he resorted to sign. When he felt comfortable with Yellow Horse, he asked him, “Did you take part in the uprising at Mankato or Ulm?”

“No. I was away hunting. After Mankato and Ulm I did fight at Birch Coulee. There, I did kill many long knives”, Yellow Horse answered.

“How about White Stone Hill? Did you fight at White Stone Hill?”, asked Jim.

“For a short time. The long knives had guns that shoot far and fast. We could not get close”, the warrior explained.

“Do you know of a Dakota called Matosapa?”, asked Jim.

“Yes, of course. Matosapa is a great war chief. He has taken many scalp locks. He is brave and courageous “.

“In what battles with the long knives did Matosapa fight?”, asked Jim.

“This I do not know. It is possible that he was at Big mound and Dead Buffalo Lake, said Yellow Horse.

“As you know, the great, white, war chief, Sibley defeated the Sioux at those places”, Jim reminded Yellow Horse.

“Defeated? I think not, Sicha Siha (Bad Foot). We are many and we are still here. Here in our land we will fight”, the Dakota responded.

“True, you are many, but the wasichu (white man) is like the stars in the night sky. More than all of the tribes of the Sioux can count. As Yellow Horse knows the wasichu now fight each other. Soon that war will end. Then the white man will descend upon the tribes, all tribes. Now, you fear the white man's cannon. Imagine ten times ten the number of cannon that could be set upon your warriors. You may fight my friend but the outcome of the fight is in the favor of the wasichu”, Jim explained.

“Perhaps you are right. We know that the long knives can not be everywhere. They can not protect every wasichu. They can not protect every wagon train that crosses our hunting grounds and at the same time protect every fort near our rivers. Where the long knives are strong at one place they will be weak at another. It is those weak places we will attack. It is my wish Sicha Siha that we never meet in battle. To me, you are not only a relative, but also my friend”.

“My hope is for peace”, said Jim.

“Peace, without slavery,” Yellow Horse replied.

Early the next morning the three men were on the trail heading deeper into the hills. Yellow Horse led the way. Behind him was the young warrior called, Spotted Owl. Jim followed. As he rode he marveled at the beauty of the place. White birch trees grew up out of green grass, now covered with a thin layer of snow. They stood in front of dark green pines that grew for what seemed miles in all directions. Although he could not see them he could hear the sounds of flowing streams and babbling brooks.

They stopped at a small pond to allow the mounts and mule to drink. Here, during the night snow had fallen and covered the ground. The snow fall had been more than a dusting. Still, it presented no problems for traveling. Jim looked long at the nearly white sky as the sun began to rise coming up and over a ridge where pine trees grew. He also saw the trees reflection on the surface of the water. There was no wind. The air was still. The only sounds were those made by the drinking animals. “This is truly a holy place”, Jim thought to himself.

At about noon Yellow Horse checked the location of the sun in the sky. He then looked for and found a place that was snow free and dry. Deciduous trees with red and yellow leaves would protect them from any wind should it occur. The Dakota warrior led the way into the place he had chosen to rest.

As the horses and mule rested Yellow Horse walked over to Jim and offered him a raw hide pouch. Jim saw that the leather bag held pemmican. “Food. Eat”, said Yellow Horse.

Jim reached into the bag and with two fingers scooped out a mixture of pulverized dried meat, melted fat and berries. He then tasted the blend and finding it to have a pleasant taste said, “Lila Waste,(Very Good)”. He then leaned back against a tree and as the Dakota shared their food by passing the pouch around among them, he drank from his canteen, The warriors drank from a skin pouch. After wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his overcoat Jim asked, again in Dakota, “How far do we have to travel?” Yellow horse stood up, walked to his horse and said, “Not much further now”.

Once mounted again the trio continued their journey through the Black hills going deeper into the valley. As they rode past the hillsides the valley became larger, wider, the hills became higher transforming the valley into a canyon. It seemed that each mile that they made there was some type of water source, streams, falls, rivulets and ponds. With plentiful game and a constant supply of fresh water the Paha Sapa was not only a sacred place, it was a sanctuary.

They came to a pond where dead wood, sod and leaves had been used by the beavers to construct a damn. Behind that barrier the water appeared dark and cold. The banks surrounding the pond held the recent snow dusting. Weeds and grass appeared dead, offering a dry gray and tan color. Stumps jutted out of the ground, the remains of the beavers work as they gnawed through and felled the trees needed for their project. Behind the waters edge the tall pines grew, dark in the shadows cast by the towering hills. Far in the distance sunlight illuminated the remaining evergreen forest that grew under a towering, white stone faced mountain.

Near sundown they rode into a large clearing. Jim saw that there was only a lean to and it appeared to have been constructed hastily. Seated inside the makeshift dwelling, before a fire sat a man. Jim assumed that it was One Horn. As they dismounted Yellow Horse turned to Jim and said, “Go. Talk”.

Jim walked to the lean to. There he gazed upon a Dakota Sioux, a man he judged to be about forty or fifty years old. The man was dressed in buckskins, On his head he wore the preserved skin of a coyote, complete with head. The front legs of the prepared animal dropped down over the man's shoulders. Yellow paint covered his forehead, eye area and the bridge of his nose. Vertical white stripes decorated his cheeks and reached his mouth and chin. The seated man had no expression on his face, and with cold, black eyes he looked at Jim. There was no greeting and no invitation to sit at the fire.

As Jim began to speak he was immediately interrupted by the Medicine Man.“Do not bore me with your attempts to speak the language of my people. I speak your words. This I learned at the Redwood Agency. What do you want and why do you enter the Paha Sapa to see me?” Jim sat down and crossed his legs, getting comfortable for what he thought was going to be a long, conversation.

“I came for two reasons. One, to do you a favor. Two, I seek Matosapa, your cousin. I have been told that you and only you know where he is”, said Jim.

“You speak to me about a favor. What favor can you offer me, you a wasichu (white man)”.

“I can give you the sacred bundle. The chanupa you left when you ran like a girl when the Crow came to your village.” Jim answered. When he did he saw the expression change on One Horn's face.

“You come here and insult me. No such thing happened”

“I see the yellow paint on your face. The color yellow signifies intelligence. I also see the color white which means you are in mourning.

Surely as your people's Stone Dreamer you are not foolish enough to give up the chance to once again have the Tashina pte(buffalo robe).

“I do not know what you talk about. I have spoken. No such thing happened”, said One Horn.

“No? Then why do your people wait for the performance of the seven rites? Why do the young girls wait for you to talk to Waken Tanka so that they may enter womanhood? And, why do you insinuate that my Ina is a liar?”

“Your mother? Who do you claim to be your mother?”

“Chinatown, Left Handed Woman. Here is her sign”, said Jim displaying the white doe skin.

One Horn's reaction was one of complete silence. Jim watched the man who now knew that his secret was exposed. The fact that he, the Stone Dreamer, the medicine man, the keeper of the sacred bundle had fled in fear for his life when the Crow war party entered the village and he had left the Tashina pte behind. “How do I know that you speak the truth, that you do have the sacred bundle?”, asked One Horn

Jim reached inside his overcoat pocket and removed the small, skin pouch Left Handed Woman had given him. He tossed it in front of One Horn who picked it up then opened it. Reaching inside he removed the white hairs that had been clipped from the white, buffalo robe. The Stone Dreamer swallowed hard and the hand holding the white hairs began to tremble.

“Where is the Tashina pte?”, asked One Horn.

“Only I know. I answer your question with my question. Where is Matosapa?”

“What do you want with him?”

“He is wanted by my people for the killing of many. It is said that he was the war chief during the raids at Mankato and Ulm. If you are familiar with the language of my people then I ask you do you know the words, arrest warrant?”

“I do. You say that Matosapa was at Mankato and Ulm. He could not be at both places at the same time,” said One Horn.

“Then he should return and hear the evidence against him. Witnesses will say where he was on those days”.

“Your witnesses will lie. Just as your traders and agents lie. It was they that provoked this war. It was they that cheated and starved our people. Can you not see why Matosapa took the path of war?”

“Yes. Yes I can. What I can not understand is that after burning the Redwood Agency and killing traders why did the Dakota then kill innocent men, women and children. Most of them were farmers without any sort of blame and had very little or no contact with your people”, said Jim.

“The blood ran hot within our warriors”, One Horn replied.

“And now, the blood runs hot in the wasichu (white man), in the long knives and in those who talk to the Great Father in Washington. It is he that listens and sends his armies against you. We can sit here forever speaking about who and what is wrong but it will get you nor I anywhere.

This is my deal. I give you the Tashina pte and you give me Matosapa”, offered Jim.

“Is the Tashina pte near?”, asked One Horn

 

“I shall return to this place in three days. When I do I will have the sacred bundle with me. I shall sit upon my horse. When you present Matosapa to me I will dismount and hand you the Tashina pte. If Matosapa is not here to meet me I shall ride away taking the robe and chanupa with me”, explained Jim.

“And, if I decide to send my warriors against you, what then?”, asked One Horn.

“Then, I'll find you without honor. Then, I will show the sacred bundle to your warriors and at the same time tell them how it is that I am in possession of it. Then, it will be them that takes away your position with the people. There will be a new wickasaw wakan (medicine man) and you shall be banished. You will live in the wilderness living on roots and berries”.

One Horn thought for a moment then said, “Three days Sicha Siha (Bad Foot). When you returned I will have Matosapa with me”.

“Good. I will leave at sunrise”, said Jim

During the night it snowed again. Jim crawled out of the hut he had made by bending saplings then tying them down so that they could be covered with saddle blankets and covers. That night he had slept, curled up in a ball relying on the buffalo overcoat to keep him warm. He shook the blankets seeing that it had been a dry snow and that they would not be wet against the hides of the horse and mule. Saddled and packed he began his trip back to the cottonwood tree that held the abandoned eagles nest.

This time the trail was different. Landmarks that he had fixed in his memory were covered with snow and distorted. He managed to follow the trail, but as the snow began to fall heavily it was almost a white out. Low growing weeds and bushes were covered in white. Pine tree and cottonwood branches were bent with the weight of several snowfalls. The remaining yellow leaves on some tree appeared vibrant while others seemed bleak. Here and there yellow-tan rocks remained free of snow as winds cleaned their surface.

At the end of the first day he made camp in a large, natural cave near a cascade that fell from the cliffs above into a large pond below. There, he was out of the cold and any wind that might come up. At the same time the horse and mule were out of the elements. Jim led them both to the pond for water then moved them both into the cave where he proceeded to rub them down. Then venturing outside he gathered as much dry grass that he could, shaking off the snow before he brought it into the cave. With his animals fed and rubbed down, then covered with their blankets. Jim built a fire using wood left by others who had used the cave before him. He then made coffee. From his saddle bags he removed a side of dried fish along with dried out berries that reminded him of raisins his mother used to make hot cross buns at Easter time. When the coffee was finished boiling he sat inside the red rock cave and at what would be his evening meal. Then, in deep thought he said aloud, “I'm almost there Virginia. Soon, this nightmare will be over. We'll be together soon now love. Soon”.

The next morning he went to the pond and found that it was mostly ice free. The rising sun was reflected on the water and the liquid surface appeared as a pool of melted gold. As the horse and mule drank their fill Jim made sure his canteen was full. The animals wanted to feed on the bright green grass that was exposed, but he couldn't allow it. He was in a hurry.

Mounted and with the mule following behind, Jim continued his journey. If he made good time and if it didn't snow during the next twenty four hours he would make it back in time where One Horn and hopefully Matosapa waited with Virginia. He was able to locate the trail mostly hidden by a white, blanket of snow. White snowfall covered bushes grew on each side of the trace outlining its contour. As yet, the previous snows that had landed and coated the landscape were not too deep and he thought that he was on schedule to make the round about trip. An hour later he saw the stand of cottonwood trees in the distance and as he neared the woodland he began looking for the empty eagles nest. After some searching he was finding it difficult to distinguish one tree from another. Clotted dead leaves at the tree tops resembled osprey or eagles nest's giving him false hopes. Then, as the paint pawed through the snow to get to grass Jim seated in the saddle finally saw it sitting high, gray and white on a large branch near the apex. It held his precious parcel, the thing that would give him Matosapa and Virginia.

This time the accent to the nest was precarious. He had located the blaze mark he had made on the underside of a branch. Ice and snow covered the top of the branches making handholds and foot placement difficult. Jim took his time, moving slowly, but safely to the eagles nest. When he finally got there, he rested for a few minutes taking the time to survey the land below. From that vantage point he could see for a good distance and he took his time looking, searching for other hoof prints in the snow, signs that others were about, ready to kill him. He saw nothing to indicate that anyone was about. Satisfied, Jim placed the sacred bundle inside his overcoat where it was safe next to his chest, then he buttoned the coat and began climbing down.

He finally stood at the base of the cottonwood. The horse and mule pawed at the snow searching for more grass to eat, exposing some green, some dry and tan. Jim looked up at an overcast sky. As sunlight had warmed the snow covered earth it also created a fog. A thick, watery mist now hid the ground in the distance. Still, there didn't appear to be any snow or ice melting. That was good, he could follow the tracks he had made back to One Horn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

Wild Rice

 

When Jim rode into the clearing he saw One Horn standing in the open. A light snow was falling and the snowflakes had begun to coat the coyote skin covering the mans head. He also noticed that a tipi had been erected, a sign that women were about. It was the women who put up and took down the buffalo skin dwellings. It came to him then that Virginia was probably with them. Near by a chestnut colored pony stood tethered to a pole.

Dismounted, Jim stood by the paint and waited for One Horn to come to him, sending a signal that the wasichu (white man) was in charge and not the wicasa wakan (holy man). When One Horn stood in front of Jim he said, “Give me the Tashina pte (buffalo robe) so that I may see that it is real and undamaged.”

“I do not see Matosapa”, Jim answered.

“He is in the lodge”, One Horn replied.

“Tell him to show himself. When he does you shall received the sacred bundle”.

Jim saw the anger in One Horn's eyes. Nonetheless, the medicine man turned toward the tipi and in English so that there could be no misunderstanding yelled, “Matosapa! Show yourself”.

Three minutes passed, then the animal skin door of the shelter opened and a tall Dakota warrior stepped out on to the snow covered ground.

“Good, now here is the bundle”, said Jim.

One Horn held the white, buffalo robe with reverence. Opening it slowly he then looked inside and saw the sacred pipe, the chanupa. “You have brought me the Tashina pte, Sica Siha(Bad Foot). In return I have brought you what will be your terrible death. There stands Matosapa”.

 

Jim took the reins of the horse and mule in his hand and began walking towards the man. When he got to him he deliberately ignored the man, which was an insult. Then, he asked, “Do you speak English?”

“Yes”, answered Matosapa

“Good then you shouldn't have any trouble understanding what I'm about to tell you”, said Jim.

“Just as long as you understand that if I do not like what you say or if you continue to insult me that your life is in jeopardy”.

“Are we going to stand out here in the cold jawing or inside by a fire?”, asked Jim.

“If you prefer the warmth of a fire I suggest that you enter”, replied Matosapa as he pulled back the animal skin door flap

“After you”, said Jim as he unbuttoned the heavy overcoat then opened it wide so he could reach the Colt revolver.

“You don't trust me?”, asked the Dakota.

“Nope”.

“Already Bad Foot you have insulted me twice”, mentioned the warrior.

“And we haven't even had a conversation yet”, said Jim sarcastically.

“Enough! What do you want with me? I have come here to the Paha Sapa (black Hills) to pray to Wakan Tanka (God) so I can have a vision. You come here making demands. Forcing One Horn, my cousin, to order me to meet with you. You are one wasichu against an entire Dakota nation. You are either very, very, brave or very, very, stupid. I came here at One Horn's request just to see which one you are”.

“I know how information and talk reaches those in the Paha Sapa. So, by now you know I have an arrest warrant for you for the murder of white settlers in Minnesota. You also took captives, many women and children”, said Jim.

“Your warrant, as you call it are just marks and figures on a piece of paper. I should allow you to serve your warrant. Then, I would sit back and look at the worry in your face. You would worry each day if my warriors would come for me to set me free. You would worry each night if I could escape from the ropes that you bind me with allowing me to rise up and kill you. You would get no sleep. Each day you would grow weaker, until at last in the need for sleep and rest you pass out. If that happened Bad Foot then, you would be easy to kill. Remember there are many, many miles from the Paha Sapa to Minnesota.”

“Jim smiled. “True Matasopa, but it is not too far to the long knives fort. There I would produce you along with the warrant. Then I would have an army escort from fort to fort, until I give you up to the citizens of Mankato”

“Ah, the citizens of Mankato. The same people who hanged thirty three Dakota warriors for crimes they did not commit”,Matosapa responded.

“Dakota warriors killed, raped, pillaged and burned. They also took captives”, Jim replied.

“If what you say is true then, I ask you. Which Dakota warrior? You see I am familiar with your laws, your rights given to you by a piece of paper in Washington. Unfortunately, those rights are not given to the people of the seven campfires”, said the war chief.

“It is said that you took many captives. I search for one particular woman. My future wife. Her name is Virginia Martin”, said Jim.

“It is true. I took many wasican wiya (white women). I enjoyed listening to their screams and cries as I took them from behind like the cur bitches they were”, said Matosapa as he got to his feet. The warrior left the fire and moved to the rear of the lodge.

Jim watched every move the Dakota made and as he did he moved his right hand slowly and placed it on the grips of the Colt revolver. Then, he saw Matosapa turn holding a war lance in his hand as he walked back to the fire. Standing, the war chief proudly displayed the scalps attached as trophies to the wooden shaft. “This is what is left of the white, captive, women I took”, said Matosapa.

Jim fought a sick feeling, the nausea that suddenly gripped him. The scream he wanted to release from his throat would not come. As tears formed in his eyes he looked at the long, strawberry blond hair with the cerulean blue bow still in place. Finally, he was able to control himself and speak. “Oh, you dirty bastard! You filthy son of a bitch!”, he screamed over and over.

He saw the anger in Matosapa's eyes and the Dakota said, “Another insult. Now I have the answer to my question. You are very, very stupid”, said the Dakota as he changed his grip on the lance, then pulled back his arm in order to make a thrust. As he did Jim pulled the Colt from the holster, thumbed back the hammer and fired. The first ball struck Matosapa just under the breast bone. The second shot penetrated the sternum. Matosapa was knocked off of his feet be the impact of the forty four caliber ball. He lay on his back gasping for air. A lung had been punctured. Jim got to his feet and walked over to the Sioux. “Before you die I want you to know that you are going back to Minnesota. You said you were familiar with the white man's paper, a warrant. I forgot to tell you it read, Wanted Dead Or Alive! Knowing the people of Manakto they will see to it that you will not walk in the place of the souls. You will not see. You will not hear. Once again Jim thumbed back the hammer of the Colt revolver and placed a shot into the head of the war chief.

With weak legs and trembling hands he had to sit down. He kept looking at the scalp lock. Deep sobs racked his body and tears ran down his cheeks and into his beard. He hugged himself and rocked back and forth in his grief. She was gone. He would never see her again. All their hopes, dreams and plans had vanished. All he had now was her hair and the blue bow.

An hour later he had composed himself to the point that he could stand. He removed the Bowie knife from the sheath on his hip and cut a large piece of buffalo hide from one side of the tipi. Then, picking up the war lance he cut the rawhide thong that had held Virginia's hair to the shaft. Carefully and with reverence he placed the scalp lock in a hastily made pouch.

Jim walked outside and placed the small bag in a safe place in the backpack on the mule. Finished, he turned and walked slowly back to the tipi. There, he cut one whole side out of the dwelling and placed in on the ground. He stood looking around waiting to see if any of Matosapa's warriors were about. He still had three unspent rounds in the Colt and the Henry was near to him, hanging in the scabbard attached to the saddle on the paint. He went inside the lodge again and with some effort managed to pull the dead body of Matosapa out of the tipi. After placing the corpse on the buffalo hide he wrapped the body, securing the wrapping with raw hide thongs cut by the Dakota women for many uses.

Back inside the tipi he removed several lodge poles from the structure and for the next two hours constructed a travois This he attached to the chestnut horse. Finally he placed Matosapa's wrapped body onto the primitive vehicle and secured it. Then, he was ready to travel.

It took him five days riding through deep snow until, at last he left the Black Hills. Then, out on the flatland he no longer had the high rock sides and peaks of the canyon walls to protect him from the wind. The grassland was covered with ice and snow. Snow covered everything, ponds and seeps, buffalo chips and any firewood that might exist. Once in awhile he could make out the outline of a small copse of pines, standing tall in the frozen ground. However, the wood those trees would produce would be green and hard to burn. A high noon sun reflected bright, hurtful rays directly into his eyes and he was forced to stop and cut slits in his bandana. After he tied the neckerchief in place and adjusted it in order to have a clear vision of the prairie ahead of him he got the animals moving again.

He cursed the ice, snow and cold, yet at the same time was glad for it. The freezing cold prevented the putrefaction of Matosapa's body. Nonetheless, as daylight faded he was aware that he would have to spend the night on the open, frozen land. At the same time the horses and mule would go without, but they could paw through the snow searching and finding grass that grew beneath the white layers. It was more than he could do.

With the setting sun, the winter wind subsided, then stopped. Jim dismounted. One place to spend the night was as good as another under the current conditions. He unpacked the mule then hobbled it. The travois was dropped and allowed to lay on the ground. Next, he unsaddled the paint and when finished hobbled his mount and the chestnut. With the side of his buffalo hide, winter boot he scraped the snow away creating a place to sit. He then sat munching the last of his buffalo jerky. When darkness fell covering the grassland in darkness, Jim placed the Henry carbine across his knees at the same time fought the weariness in his body. Relying on the horses and mule to wake him if man or beast came near him he nodded off to sleep.

As he slept she came to him in a dream. He saw her standing near the sour apple tree on his farm. Her back was towards him and when she turned around she smiled. “Thank you for coming for me Jim. Deep in my heart I always knew that you would. Things are different now dear. We can never be together. Now, you must let go of the feelings and love you have for me and find another. Find a new love”, she said.

He watched her face slowly fade away and he called to her, “Wait! Wait, Virginia, wait”. Then, in horror, he watched her face turned into a ghostly black and white. Her blue eyes turned to yellow and they flashed in anger. Her mouth turn up at the corners creating a hideous grin and she growled. With a start Jim woke to find that he was surrounded by a pack of wolves. He saw their glowing, yellow eyes in the darkness and heard their warning snarls. They were after the horses and mule. He got to his feet quickly, pulled the lever of the Henry, then stood aiming at the eyes that glowed in the night. He fired. He heard the yelps and cries of pain when his shots hit true. The, as quickly as the wolf pack had come, they were gone.

Jim walked to where the animals were hobbled and in the darkness ran his bare hand over their legs. He couldn't see clearly in the night, but he could feel for the wetness of blood from any bite wounds the wolves might have caused. Finding none he went back to his place in the snow, cursing the fact that he had no fire. A fire would have kept the predators away. He wished that he had the other loaded magazine for the Henry, but it was in the mule's backpack and he couldn't work in the dark. At the same he couldn't remember exactly how many shots he had fired. “Was it eight, or nine?”, he asked himself mentally.”It was eight. I'm sure of it”,he reasoned.

The cold and fatigue took its hold on him once more and he drifted off to sleep again. This time there were no dreams. As he slept large snow flakes began to fall, coating him with a white frigid covering.

Up early the next morning he was saddled and packed again. With the pack mule and chestnut following behind him his horse trudged through the fresh snow. Jim looked at the sun through the slits in his bandana and judged by the height of it in the sky that it was about ten o'clock in the morning. Then, approximately fifty yards away he saw the large deer buck feeding on snow covered vegetation. Catching the scent of the horses and mule the deer raised its head and looked at the animals standing still in the distance. As yet, it had not picked up the scent of man astride one of the horses and the buck lowered its head and continued to feed.

Jim carefully removed the bandana from his face and slowly reached for and withdrew the Henry from the saddle scabbard, then gently pulled the lever which put one round into the chamber. With slow, deliberate, quiet moves so as not to spook the deer he brought the carbine to his shoulder, aimed and squeezed off a shot. He watched the buck stagger as the bullet struck with force, then it dropped, dead before it hit the ground.

At the sound of the rifle report the jack mule began braying and kicking its back legs. “Stop it, you stupid son of a bitch!”, Jim yelled.

He rode up to where the dead deer lay. Dismounting, he withdrew the Bowie knife from the sheaf on his hip. Before butchering the animal he checked the mood of the horses and mule, not knowing what they would do when they detected the smell of death. He decided to hobble them. If he lost them he would be on foot in the freezing cold.

Making cuts into the hide of the deer he then cut out the meat he wanted, saving the liver and heart. Using the knife again he removed a piece of hide large enough to wrap the meat in, then wiped the knife clean in the snow. He then took handful after handful of the fresh snow using it to wash the blood off of his hands. As he stood he checked his back trail knowing that the wolf pack or what was left of it would be following him. Leaving the deer carcass would serve two purposes. The dead deer would feed the pack, so there would be no waste. When the pack stopped to feed they would stop following him.

It was past noon when he entered the Dakota Badlands. To him, it was a good place to be. Here, the dry snow had been blown off of the mounds exposing dried grass, sparse in places, but enough for the horses and mule to feed. It had been awhile since they had anything except what they found under the snow and ice.

Dark, brown, rock formations, some high others short formed natural barriers that would protect him from the harsh, cold wind should it blow at night. Then, he saw the dark, green growth of pines growing on top of a knoll and he quickly searched for the largest copse that appeared to grow between two hills. He headed it for it. Reaching the created place between the mounds Jim dismounted and took care of his animals. He led them to where they could get to and eat the most dry grass. Then, he hobbled them. While the horses and mule ate, Jim gathered dead, dry, pine wood for his fire. Out of the wind he struck steel and flint, creating sparks that caught, then ignited the dry grass tinder. Soon, he had a fire. Now, he had heat and shortly he would have hot food.

He had little or no concern about the Dakota or any other tribes in the area. It was winter. Most of the tribes were in places like the Paha Sapa. Protected from the harsh elements of cold weather they lived on the food they had preserved for the wintertime retreat. If necessary, they hunted.

Jim went through his food pack. His coffee was gone. So was his tea. A few hardtack biscuits remained. Fortunately now he had the venison. He took his tin cup out of the pack and filled it with snow. Walking back to the fire he placed the cup where the heat of the fire would not only melt the snow, but in addition, boil the water the heat created. He then picked a handful of pine needles from the nearest tree. Cutting the meat into small pieces, he placed them on a sharpened stick and held the makeshift skewer over the fire. He noticed that at last, the water in the tin cup was boiling and he dropped the pine needles into the rolling water and brewed a type of tea.

As he ate he was deep in thought. He thought of Virginia again. The thoughts were different now. The thoughts were of what might have been had things been different. Thinking of her also made him think of home and for the first time in the last couple of years, that's where he wanted to be.

Finished with his meal Jim stood and sipping from the cup he looked to the east. This was the direction he was traveling, the course that would take him back to Minnesota. South from where he stood was the Missouri

River, a place he wanted to avoid. Army patrols and civilian woodcutters and ice cutters would inquire about the dead body of Matosapa strapped to the travois. He was in no mood to have his journey interrupted when he had to stop and explain. Nonetheless, the river he wanted to find was the Minnesota River. Once he found that, all he had to do was follow its course all the way to Mankato.

During the next two weeks, there were times when he went hungry. Several times he saw small herds of wild horses pawing at the snow, breaking through the frozen crust in order to reach the vegetation underneath. Often and needing a rest he allowed his animals to do the same. Still, he could see that the horses and mule were loosing weight due to a lack of fodder. What little game he came across consisted of an occasional rabbit or a prairie chicken that came out of the snow where it used to keep itself warm.

Two weeks later, he traveled on a foggy morning. Peering through the mist he could only see ahead about twenty yards. Then, he heard something. He stopped the paint. When he did the chestnut and mule did the same. He listened carefully. Then he heard it, the sound of moving water. Nudging the paint forward he rode carefully through the haze. Then, he stopped again. As the sun broke through the fog lifted and he saw that he was on the west bank of the Minnesota River. He was almost home. To his left, about a hundred yards away a small flock of wild ducks were feeding on wild rice. Jim climbed down from the saddle and walked to the waters edge. There, on the river banks the rice grass grew. The seeds of the plant had dropped to the ground. Jim removed his hat then bent down and began picking up the seeds placing them inside his felt hat. As he did the ducks flew away, protesting and sounding an alarm.

Hungry, he decided to stay where he was and camp through the night resting both the animals and himself. He built a fire with some difficulty as the scattered wood he found was damp from the fog. With river water in his pot he boiled the wild rice. When it was finished cooking he dug into the completed meal using his spoon, enjoying the taste of real food that he hadn't had in days.

On a cold, winter, Monday, morning Jim rode down the middle of the main street of Mankato. Men going to work and women shopping stopped and looked at the sight of a man with a dirty beard wearing a grimy, buffalo robe overcoat. The unkempt stranger was riding an Indian pony and a mule and chestnut followed behind him. What raised their curiosity and made them stare was what appeared to be a wrapped corpse tied to a travois being pulled by the chestnut. A crowd formed and began to follow the man on horseback.

As he rode, he looked at both sides of the street. Even though he had been away for a few years it appeared that nothing in the town had really changed. The same stores were open and doing business. People still went to the banks on Monday mornings to either deposit or withdraw money from their accounts. Snow banks created by shopkeepers who shoveled the snow off of the wooden sidewalk in front of their stores and offices still waited for the spring melt for it to disappear.

He reined up in front of the office of the County Sheriff. After dismounting he walked to the rear of the chestnut and released the travois from the horse. Those people who had followed him and created a crowd backed away and moved, giving him room to maneuver. When they did Jim muscled the loaded travois from the street, onto the sidewalk and propped the dead Dakota's body against the outside wall of the Sheriff's office. When he did the Sheriff came rushing outside, saying. “What in the name that's holy is going on here?”

Jim reached inside his dirty overcoat and removed the warrant. “I want you to know that the warrant for the arrest of Matosapa, also know and Black Bear has been served. The warrant stipulated, dead or alive. He resisted arrest by attacking me and as a result he is brought back dead. That was his choice. Not mine,”said Jim as he handed the dirty, stained piece of paper to the Sheriff.

A loud murmur went through the crowd of on lookers.

“He's the one that started the revolt!”, someone shouted.

“My farm was burnt to the ground because of that lousy bastard”, shouted another.

“Watch you language. There are women and children here”, someone scolded.

“Jim! Jim! Someone called to him. He turned and searched the crowd with his eyes and eventually found Sidney Tozer. Jim left the sidewalk stepping down into the street and when he did he was met by his friend and lawyer. “Damn it Jim, we more or less gave up on you. Not hearing from you we actually thought you were dead,” said Tozer as he shook Jim's hand.

“Not hardly, still alive and right now in need of a hot cup of coffee”, Jim replied.

“Certainly, let's get out of the cold. We'll go to my office. I'll send my clerk for the coffee. There are many things we have to discuss. I'll send a telegram to Milford. I'm certain he'll be on the next riverboat coming down from St. Paul.”

“How is he”, asked Jim.

“The same, maybe a little richer. Who can tell? All I know is that as one of his many lawyers, everything he invests in is profitable'.

When they entered Tozer's office the wood stove was generating a lot of heat. Jim removed the filthy buffalo overcoat. When he did he saw the disgusted look in Sydney’s eyes when he looked at the filthy, dirty and stained buckskins Jim wore. “Don't get too close Sidney. I smell worse than a pole cat.”

“I don't know what to say Jim. Did you find her? Did you find your Virginia?”

Jim hesitated before he answered. “She's gone Sidney. Virginia is dead.”

“Oh, I am so sorry Jim”.

“Thank you. Now how about that cup of coffee?”, Jim replied in a low and sad voice.

To change the subject Jim asked about the war. “How is the rebellion going?

“It's almost over. The South is on its knees. Grant wins every battle now. However, he's taking a lot of casualties.”

“Stupid. War is stupid, whether it's the fight down there in the South or out on the plains against the Indians. It is stupid. Just another case of man killing man”.

Tozer nodded his head in agreement. “Now that you're home, what are your plans?”, he asked.

“Do I still have a room at Milfords house here in Mankato?”

“Of course”.

“Is the same staff there?”

“Yes”.

“Well, if you could, send a runner to the house telling them that I'm back. And tell Ed to heat a lot of water and fill the bathtub. After that I want a long sleep. As for plans I don't have any at the moment. Right now I need transportation from the livery stable to the house. Can you give me a ride in your carriage?”

Tozer's clerk entered the office carrying a pot of hot, black coffee. He walked over to the pot belly, wood burning stove and placed the utensil on top of the heater, placed two cups on Tozer's desk and went to his own and sat down. When he did Sidney continued their conversation.

“Certainly, but in awhile. Sit, relax, enjoy your coffee. I'll go next door and telegraph Milford letting him know that you are here”, answered Sidney.

Two hours later Sidney Tozer stopped his horse drawn carriage in front of Milford Wilcox's Mankato home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Fourteen

Opportunities

 

Jim stood shaking hands with Milford Wilcox. “Damn it Jim, I had you dead a dozen times. You look good. You have a weathered look about yourself, nice full beard. Of course it needs trimming and by the looks of you, you lost weight,” said Wilcox.

“Neither the army or the Dakota Sioux served mashed potatoes and gravy”, Jim replied with a smile.

“Come, let me hear about your adventures over a sniffer of good brandy. I heard that you have a Henry repeating rifle. Is that true”, asked Wilcox.

“Yes, yes I do”, Jim answered.

“Did you use it?”

“I shot wolves and deer with it”.

“How about the Colt revolver I gave you. Did you use that?”,asked Wilcox.

“Yes, unfortunately, yes. And, I'd rather not talk about it”.

Quickly changing the subject Wilcox asked, “What are your plans?”

“Right now, I don't have any. I'm not a farm boy any more Milford. As the saying goes, “I've Seen The Elephant”. After I rest up I'll ride out and look at what's left of the farm. I'll figure out what's it worth and put it up for sale. After that, I'll figure out where to go and how to rebuild my life”.

“The towns people consider you to be a great Indian fighter. You can write your own ticket if you go into politics”, Wilcox suggested.

“I don't know anything about politics”, Jim replied.

“You don't have to know anything about it. Simply pick a party, get its backing. Once you are elected, they'll tell you what to do. They'll tell you what laws they want created, what bills they want passed, and which one's they don't”, Wilcox explained.

“You know damn well, that I don't work like that”,Jim Responded.

“Of course I know. I'm just telling you what you could do now that you're back”, said Milford.

Ethel Bush entered the room. “Excuse me gentlemen, but I need to know what to do with those awful buckskins that are on the back porch”, she said.

“I told Ed to burn them. Tomorrow I'll have some other things I'll want destroyed. By the way. I don't want anyone in or near the pack I placed in the backyard,”said Jim.

“There must be something of great importance in that pack”, said Wilcox.

“Important to me. Just me”, Jim replied.

Sidney Tozer entered the house and gave his black, bowler hat to Harriet Aikens. He then entered the living room, walked over to Wilcox's whiskey cabinet and poured himself a brandy. Turning to Jim he said, “I have some good news for you. There was a five hundred dollar reward on the head of Matosapa. At first the county insisted on not paying, claiming you were under employ to the local government and just doing your job. Technically, they're right. However, here's the reward,” said Sidney as he handed Jim five, one hundred dollar banknotes.

“Paper? What happened to gold coin?', asked Jim.

“It's the war Jim. It's the war”, Wilcox said.

“Also the newspapers want you to meet with their artist's. They're planning to run a special feature about you. They want to know how you exactly killed Matosapa, said Sidney.

“Not interested. As for the reward, give it back. My pay was ten dollars a week, plus ten dollars a week for the use and care of my horse. That comes to five hundred and twenty dollars a year. Now, three times that comes to three thousand and one hundred dollars the county owes me”, said Jim.

“Bravo Jim, don't let them take advantage of you”, said Wilcox.

“They will resist that kind of expense Jim. What should I tell them?”, asked Sidney.

“Tell them that they're getting off easy. I'm not adding interest that I would have accumulated had my salary been deposited in the bank like it should have been. If, they don't pay me, I'll sue, adding the interest. You can also bring to their attention that since I'm being viewed as a local hero and Indian fighter the jury will probably be on my side', Jim explained.

“Ah, now you're getting smart. Capture the moment Jim. Take advantage of this opportunity of being a celebrity. While we are on the subject of opportunity and since you have turned down politics as a vocation, let me submit to you another idea I have. Come into business with me. Sit on my board of directors. By doing so, your reputation here in Minnesota will draw business to our many enterprises. I suggest that you invest your,”soon to be riches” by purchasing stock certificates in our operation. Right now stock is selling at a dollar per share.. Buy, say three thousand shares. By doing that you send a message to our board members that you are a legitimate investor and at the same time persuades the average citizen to purchase shares”, suggested Wilcox.

“I was a farmer. True, I knew how to run the business end of my farm, but I don't know a thing about big business and corporations. I'm not a business man”, said Jim.

“As a farmer, how much money did you make in a good year?”, asked Wilcox.

“Probably, three maybe four hundred dollars”, answered Jim.

“As a member of the board your salary is two thousand dollars a year. When our business enterprises prosper so do the directors. Happy shareholders love to give raises and benefits to those who give them a nice return on their money”, said Milford.

Their conversation was interrupted when Ed Barnes entered the room.

“Excuse me gentlemen, but I just returned from town. I thought that you would like to know that the people are mutilating Black Bears body”, he said.

“Why? Why in the name of hell would they do such a thing?”, asked Jim in anger.

“Revenge. They remember seeing the bodies of their loved ones. Even little boys are involved. They're placing firecrackers in the ears of the corpse”, Barnes continued.

“Real good Christian people. People who go to church on Sunday. They pray to Jesus then act like barbarians with a dead man's body. It's been three years after a disaster caused by cheating traders and government officials and now they take revenge on a lifeless man. I should have left him in the Black Hills. Now, I'm sorry that I didn't”, said Jim in disgust.

“I told you sometime ago that the Indian is in the way of progress. Now, the victories of Sibley and Sully have proved that they are no match in combat against the white man”, said Wilcox.

“Milford, you're wrong. Before they are defeated and forced on to reservations the United States Army will be defeated many times. Many white scalps will hang from the lodge poles of the plains Indians. Trust me”, said Jim.

“Oh well. Thank you Ed for bringing us the information. Now Jim, what do you think of my offer?”, asked Milford.

“I haven't got the money yet. If I do your offer is mighty generous”.

“Think about it my friend. Think about it. Now, the hour grows late. Nothing like good brandy followed by a good night sleep', said Wilcox as he got up out of his chair and walked towards the stairs.

Tozer drained the brandy sniffer in his hand and placed the glass on the whiskey cabinet. “Time for me to go. I'll see the town solicitor in the morning. Good night Jim”.

On a Saturday morning Jim walked into the barbershop of Edgar Tilley.

“good morning sir. You must be Jim Wellington. It is sure a pleasure meeting you sir. What can I do for you today, haircut, trim the beard or perhaps a shave?”, asked the barber as he shook Jim's hand.

“Both, I want the hair short. You know, like what's in style now. Trim the beard, but I want it close to the skin”, Jim requested as he took a seat in the chair.

“Yes sir, no problem. So, tell me, what was it like when you killed that fella, Matosapa?”, asked Tilley as he placed the cloth covering most of Jim's upper body.

“How do you know that it was me that killed him? Maybe I found him dead on the grassland, Jim suggested.

Tilley laughed. “Shucks, everyone here in town knows that there are three bullet holes in that Indian, George Maxim, the local undertaker dug two forty four caliber lead balls out of the Indians chest. Lots of people saw you ride into town dragging that dead body in tow. And, you had a Colt forty four revolver on your hip. There aren't too many of those that belong to the average citizen. Military? Yes. Average citizen? No”, said the barber.

“Interesting. Just where is this undertaker located?”, asked Jim.

“Next block over. You can't miss it. He has a large coffin in the window, along with other samples.

Men passing by and looking through the large plate glass window of the barbershop and recognizing Jim suddenly needed a haircut, using that need as an excuse to enter the shop. They anxiously took a seat in the hardback chairs that lined one wall, then sat patiently waiting for Jim to talk about his exploits as an army scout and Indian fighter. Soon, young boys stood outside, looking, some staring through the shop window.

Jim kept quiet, not saying anything. When Edgar Tilley was finished brushing loose hair from Jim's clothing Jim stood up, put on his hat and coat and paid the barber. Those who did not know him noticed his limp and began the story that James Wellington had been wounded in an Indian fight. He still carries an arrow head in his leg, causing him to limp.

Once outside he walked to the next block, crossed the street and found the undertakers place of business. He stood looking at the salesman samples and the variety of coffins available from the manufacturer. When he entered the morticians parlor a man came through a black curtain that concealed what ever was in the back room.

“Good day sir. May I be of service?”, said the man.

“Are you mister Maxim?”, asked Jim.

“Yes sir, and you are?”, asked George Maxim.

“Wellington, James Wellington”.

“Ah yes, the local Indian fighter. How may I serve you, Mister Wellington?”

“First, let me advise you that I dislike the title, Indian fighter. I'd appreciate it if you just refer to me as Jim or Mister Wellington.”

“Of course sir. I had no intention of insulting you. Please accept my apologies, said Maxim.

“Fine, fine. Now, you have several small coffins in your display window. I would like to buy one, said Jim.

“I am sorry sir, they are not for sale. They are salesman samples. Made for display only.. answered the mortician.

“I see. Sorry to hear that. Nevertheless, a wise man once told me that every man has his price and for the right price, everything is for sale”.

“Allow me to explain. These samples do not belong to me”, said Maxim.

“I understand. Now, name your price”, Jim replied.

“One hundred dollars”.

“Now, we're making progress. Try again”, said Jim with aggravation appearing in the tone of his voice.

Beads of sweat began appearing on George Maxim's forehead. “Fifty dollars”.

“Much better, but I'm thinking more like thirty dollars. I find my offer to be more than fair, since you and I both now the sample coffins are only worth five dollars.

“Yes sir, which sample would you like?”

“That one there in the window. It appears to be made of rosewood with the white lining containing bits of blue”.

“An excellent choice sir, excellent”.

“Do you happen to have a box for it?”, asked Jim.

“Yes sir. Would you like me to pack it for you?'

“Please. Now, tell me, where is Matosapa's body?”, asked Jim.

“It is being cremated now as we speak”, said Maxim.

“Where?”

“My crematorium is out back”.

“I will want his ashes and make sure that they are his. Place them in a nice urn. Nothing cheap. I'll pick them up tomorrow”, said Jim.

“Tomorrow is Sunday. I'm closed'

“Let's say tomorrow, about nine o'clock in the morning. You'll be open, I get the urn and ashes and you can still make it to church in plenty of time. I know how much church means to you, you a good Christian man. By the way, I will find out how much the town is paying you for your services, so make the price for the urn a fair price”.. Jim suggested.

“Very well. I'll see you in the morning”, said Maxim as he handed the wrapped coffin to Jim.

“Yep, nine o'clock. Now prepare my bill. I will sign it in the morning. Then, I want you to send it to my attorney, Sidney Tozer. May I say mister Maxim that it has been a pleasure doing business with you”, said Jim as he left the funeral parlor.

That night, in the privacy of his room Jim placed the strawberry blond scalp with the blue ribbon in the small coffin.

The next morning he walked to the livery stable and rented a horse and carriage. At five minutes past nine he received the urn containing Matosapa's ashes. With the small coffin in one hand and the funeral urn in the other he handled both with reverence. He placed them carefully in the carriage, climbed up into the seat and began his ride.

He passed families heading for church. Some waved. Children pointed.

Eventually he made his way out of town and into the country side. The first stop he made was at the Martin Farm. Jim climbed down from the carriage, removed his coat while ignoring the chill. Then, he took a shovel he had borrowed from the liveryman from the rear of the buggy and walked to the two graves that held the remains of Virginia's mother and father. He pulled the weeds that had grown in and near the neglected grave sites. Then, selecting a place next to her parents, he began to dig.

Jim dug, making a small grave. He wanted it to be deep. That way the small coffin would not be disturbed. Standing in the burial place he reached for and took the miniature redwood casket in his hand. He held it close to his chest, knowing that now, he had to let her go. He bent down and gently placed the petite coffin at the bottom of the grave, then climbed out of the opening. And, standing and with tears in his eyes he prayed and said his farewell to her. For the ten thousandth time he told her how much he loved her. The, he began to fill the grave.

The noon day sun beat down on the frozen snow covered grassland as Jim rode out on to the prairie. He set the brake of the carriage, got out and then picked up the urn containing the Dakota War Chief's ashes. He walked well away from the carriage out into the open plain to a place where the wind constantly was blowing. He looked up into the heavens and in a loud voice said, “Matosapa, your body should rest on a funeral scaffold as it is the custom of your people. This, I would have done, but others interfered”. Jim then turned, facing, east, west, north and south. Then, speaking the Dakota language said, “Black Bear, my brother, I am the one who killed you. Forgive me, for your death and the death of our people is caused by evil in our time. Now, I am the one who honors you with prayer. Me, James Wellington”.

 

He opened the urn and as the winter wind blew it picked up the fine ash contained in the vessel. Jim looked up at the heavens and still speaking Dakota said, “Wakan Tankan, hear me great spirit. I send you a mighty warrior. Here is Matosapa. Carry him on the four winds, to the place of souls”. When the urn was empty he placed it on the ground, then climbed up on to the carriage seat. He sat looking at the sky then with a flick of the reins he had the horse drawn buggy turned and heading back to town.

Back at the house owned by Wilcox Jim sat in an overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace. A fire was burning. It seemed that all he had done lately was to sit and stare into burning fires, most of them camp fires. Hypnotized by the flames, the red, yellow and orange blaze seemed to suck memories out of his brain. Memories, some good, some bad. Good was loving her. Bad was loosing her. Good, was the friendship of Abner Dooley. Bad was loosing him. Deep in thought he heard the chanting voice of Left Handed Woman. He saw again the yellow clay that One Horn used to paint his face. One Horn was replaced in his reverie by Sandy Cahill, a man who truly believed that the Indian was in the way of progress and had to go, one way or another. Unfortunately, there were a lot of Sandy Ca hill’s in America.

The sound of someone calling his name brought him out of his daydreaming. “Jim, Jim, time for supper.” Called Ethel Bush.

“Be right there,” Jim answered.

“It's roast beef, mashed potatoes, carrots and apple pie. Hot damn”, said Ed as Jim took a seat at the table”.

“Watch that filthy mouth of yours”, said Harriet Aikens.

Four months went by. Jim spent most of his time riding the countryside looking at various farms, just as he use to do before he left with Sibley's command. To him, it was boring work. Most of the houses and outbuildings had been destroyed and the fields were covered with ice and snow. Occasionally, there was a thaw. Still, the work did not hold his interest.

Shortly after the first of April, 1865 Sidney Tozer deposited three thousand, one hundred dollars in Jim's account. “As my lawyer, how much is your fee?”, asked Jim.

“As your lawyer, twenty five dollars. As your friend, nothing”, said Sidney.

“You're sure now?”

“Yes, however, as both your lawyer and your friend I want to give you some advice”.

“And, that would be?”

“Follow Milford's suggestion. Invest in his corporation.”

“Why? You and I both know that I'm no businessman “.

“Why? I'll tell you why. First of all it will take your mind off of Virginia and how unlucky you are for loosing the one you loved. Do you actually think that you are the only one on God's green earth that has lost a loved one? How about the mothers, wives, children and yes sweethearts, north and south who have lost those fighting in this war? People have lost sons, fathers, brothers and husbands. So, you see Jim, you are not the only one who has a loss. And, another thing. Get out of this town. Go up to St. Paul. There are too many things here that make you remember the past. Every time the church bells ring, you think of her. You're a good farmer. You can be a good businessman. Milford will teach you. Finally, you can become wealthy. Think what you can do for the Dakota, the children and elderly of the Dakota. Hell Jim, the way I see it if you don't take Milford's offer, you are one selfish, son of a bitch”, said Tozer.

Jim laughed. “Are the riverboats running?”, he asked.

“I think one is due in on Friday”, Tozer answered.

“Good, wire Milford and ask him to meet me at the dock in St. Paul”.

 

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

Hardscrabble

 

When the riverboat pulled up to the dock at St. Paul a military band was playing patriotic songs. From the rail of the upper deck Jim saw Milford Wilcox waiting on the pier.

Jim joined the other passengers as they walked down the short gangway leading to the wharf. On the dock he put down his carpetbag and shook hands with Milford. “What's all the excitement about and why a band?”, asked Jim.

“It's the war. Word reached us about three hours ago. Lee has surrendered. The war is over. The war is over Jim,” Wilcox announced.

“Thank God for that”, Jim replied.

“Come my friend. We'll go first to the house. There, you will freshen up. Then, we'll lunch. I think that you will your accommodations much better than those at Mankato.”

“Thank you Milford, however, after lunch I think I'd want to put up at a boarding house.”

“Why, may I ask?”

“No offense, but I'm a simple man Milford. I'm not use to butlers, maids, fancy things like oysters and caviar. All I need is a boarding house where I get a room and meals. That's all I need. At the same time I pay the rent. Besides, how would it look when the other board members realize that I'm living in your house?”

“Hmm. I must admit that I never thought of that. Good thinking Jim. Good thinking”.

Two days later Milford Wilcox called for a meeting of the board. “Gentlemen, at this time I introduce to you James Wellington. A recent investor in our corporation. As chairman I nominate Mister Wellington for election to the board. And, before we go any further let me say this. I want him on this board. Are there any questions?”, asked Wilcox.

Harry Stevens raised his hand. “I have a question Milford. How many shares does Mister Wellington own?”

“Unless you are willing to open your own portfolio I find your question out of order Harry”, said Wilcox.

“Not so. The members of the board have a right to know the amount of shares the nominee has before he is elected and given the right to vote on any and all decisions that comes before this board,” said George Baxter.

Jim got up slowly from his chair. “Let me answer the question. I am in possession of three thousand shares of this corporations stock”, said Jim.

“Excellent, excellent, that's all I wanted to know. Thank you”, said Stevens.

“I would like to know your business background sir”, said Baxter,

“Mister Wellington is versatile to say the least. He comes to us as an explorer. As one who fought in the Minnesota-Sioux Wars he is familiar with the land on and near the Missouri River. A place that will soon be settled by white emigrants now that the war is over. Possibly, this is a place for future investments. Who better to tell us of the conditions there than one who fought and lived there? Next, Mister Wellington is an expert on the farmland in Blue-Earth and Nicole Counties, farmland that as you know we have considered acquiring for sometime. At the same time he speaks the Dakota language and beyond that understands the Dakota culture, something to keep in mind in our future operations in the west. Now, I think that Mister Wellington through both his experience and his investment qualifies him for membership to this board. Besides, I want him. I suggest we take a vote. Any objections? Fine, Mister Wellington, welcome to the board.

The next order of business is that I will have a dinner party and ball to celebrate the end of that awful war. I will host it this Saturday night. Casual dress gentlemen. That way your wives won't need to buy a new dress. George, since you are a widower might I ask if your daughter, Doreen will be accompanying you?”, asked Milford.

“If she is free”, Baxter answered.

“See that she is” Wilcox responded.

That Saturday evening dinner was served at eight o'clock P.M. Wilcox sat at one end of the long table. Jim as a special guest sat at the other. He had been introduced to the members of the board of directors only this time he met their wives. When he came in contact with Doreen Baxter, she offered her hand for Jim to kiss. When she did he looked deep into her eyes then reached up and took her fingers in his hand and gave her a weak handshake. He smiled at her when he noticed the bothered look on her face.

During dinner the men talked business with Wilcox. As they did Jim sat quietly deep in thought sipping from a glass of champagne. His thought ans the conversations of the others was interrupted by Doreen Baxter. “So tell me Mister Wellington, were you in the war?”, she asked.

“No, I wasn't”, Jim answered.

“How strange. You certainly are young enough. I have been told that nine year old boys served in the regiments. And, you, a strong young man from Minnesota didn't join the fight to preserve the Union”, she added.

“Nope”, he answered.

“Nope? Is that all you can say?”, she asked.

“Oh, I could say more, much more, but I'm too much of a gentleman

“And, I say sir, that enough is enough. May I remind you that my daughter is a lady and will treated as such”, said George Baxter.

“Shut up George. Let the two of them banter back and forth. I'm enjoying this,” said Wilcox.

Now, allowed to continue Doreen said, “Perhaps Mister Wellington you were, let's say troubled about joining the cause?”

“If you are asking if I was afraid to go to war, the answer is no”, Jim replied.

“Well, lucky for you the war is over. We are at peace now”, said Doreen.

“The late war is over. Now, a new one will begin”, said Jim.

“And just who will we fight I ask. We have already defeated Mexico. England was mart enough to stay out of the last struggle. It must be that the next fight is with Canada. That's the only one left”, said a laughing Donald Fisk.

“It won't be Canada. It will be with the Plains Indians, the Sioux, Cheyenne, Arapaho, all united against the government and its army, Jim explained.

“Sir, right now at this very minute the United States has the largest army in the world. Do you mean to sit there and tell us that a few tribes of savages can do what General Robert E. Lee could not do?”, asked George Baxter.

“That's exactly what I'm telling you. The largest army in the present day world will be downsized. Those commands that are left have never fought the Indian. Those few forts that exist and the new forts that will be built will contain only portions of regiments which means they will lack strength in combat. At the same time the army will be out numbered and out gunned. The tribes have much better weapons then they did years ago. Many have repeating rifles. Some they took off of the dead bodies of wagon train emigrants. Most were bought in trade with white traders who don't give a tinkers damn how the Indian uses the guns. Remember, we here in Minnesota fought against the Sioux. Some say that we punished them. I'm telling you that what we did was force them to unite with their allies. As I see it, the Indian will defeat the United States Army time after time, until the army develops a new strategy in combating the tribes.”

“Well, since you seem to know all the answers perhaps you can tell us just how we can prevent this war, or any war?”,asked Doreen.

“Certainly, it's easy. Simply treat the Indian with respect and honor.

Instead of stealing his land allow him to keep it then work in the same way you deal with whites when it comes to real estate. Either rent his land or buy it. When treaties are made honor that contract instead of changing the wording or definitions of words. That takes advantage of his lack of knowledge of the English language, legal terms and law. Instead of insisting that the Indian change his culture make a point to understand it. Right now, it is inherit that young men seek recognition in their tribes by performing great deeds either in hunting or battle. Allow their young men to achieve recognition in other fields, such as, education, medicine, business or politics. Most important is the need to keep those institutions that deal with the Indian corruption free. As for other wars simply stop the greed of big business and government”.

“Ladies and Gentlemen the orchestra is anxious to play for your pleasure. A buffet of light refreshments has been set up in the ballroom. Please enjoy”, said Wilcox changing the mood.

Jim was the last to leave the table. Milford Wilcox deliberately waited for him. “It seems to me the Doreen got under your skin my friend”, he said.

“Just a young woman wanting an audience by displaying her independence in a businessman’s world. Nothing more”, Jim replied.

“I was hoping that the two of you would hit it off, as the saying goes. You would be wise to take up with her. She has money, social connections and in a dark bedroom she might be a great surprise. At the same time you might begin entertaining the thought of marriage. You having a wife would indicate to the board that you have stability”, Wilcox continued.

“I'll tell you what Milford. I'll consider taking a wife after I see you take one”, Jim responded.

“Touche', however, we're talking about your future, not mine”.

The two men entered the ballroom. Wilford left to attend to his guests and Jim walked to the buffet table and poured himself a cup of punch from the large silver bowl. He then stood with his back to the wall and watched the couples dancing.

Doreen walked up to him and in a demanding tone said, “I want to dance”.

“Go right ahead”, Jim replied.

“Why are you acting this way?”she asked.

“And, just which way would that be?'

“Rude, sarcastic at times like right now'.

“I didn't know I was. It must be a habit of mine'.

“Well, it's a bad habit”.

“You could be right. However, it is not as bad as the problem you have”.

“And, in your opinion what would that be?”

“Thinking that you're right most of the time. Wanting and getting your own way, and being a spoiled. Little rich bitch all of the time”, Jim answered.

“Well, I've never been so insulted in my life. You sir are not a gentleman”.

“And, you Miss are a royal pain in the ass”.

“I should slap your face”.

“Maybe you should, but you won't”.

“And, why not may I ask?”

“Because you and I know you want me. You want to bed down with what you imagine a frontiersman and Indian fighter would be like. You want me to be the one who lifts your nighty. The one who takes you hard and rough just like you've always wanted it to be. However, what you really want is a trophy husband. One that you can show that you defeated, socially and intellectually. You see yourself as the dominate female in our not so happy home.

Take a good look at yourself in that mirror on the wall. You are attractive, but not beautiful. Yes, you have bouncing curls and ruby lips and you dress in the latest Paris fashions, that Daddy buys for you but times running out on you. I'd say right now you're pushing thirty. Ahead is spinsterhood. You'll end up being an old woman with plenty of money, one cat and a rocking chair. And, Miss Baxter as you rock you'll always wonder what it would have been like to lay with a man”.

In anger Doreen raised her hand to slap him. He caught her wrist and held it. “When you're ready, send me your card”, he said releasing her and walking away.

During the month that went by Jim spent a lot of time reading current events in the local and out of state newspapers. He read books and articles pertaining to various business practices. For lunch he often sat at a table window in the small restaurant that he favored. On this day as he ate he read an article about the Fetterman massacre and the Gala Sioux War Chief, Red Cloud. His reading was interrupted by someone tapping on the glass window. Looking up he saw Doreen Baxter. She gave him a wave and a smile then headed for the entrance as she folded her parasol.

As she neared his table Jim stood and looking at her said, “Well, well. Look who it is, Lady Baxter”.

“Don't be cruel James. It doesn’t become you”.

“And, just why is the queen out of her castle this fine day?”, asked Jim.

“Shopping. When I get bored, I shop.”

“I'll wager that you shop a lot”

“Stop it'.

“Sorry, would you care to join me for lunch?”

“Thank you, no. Some tea perhaps”.

Jim discreetly signaled the waiter who then took Doreen’s order.

“Do you come here often?”, she asked.

“Yes, I do”.

“So, what have you been doing since I saw you last?”, she asked.

“Same old thing. Business is business”.

“Do you prefer this kind of life or would you like to be back fighting Indians?”

“Well, when I had to deal with Indians I always knew where I stood'.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I don't know what you are up to”.

Doreen took a sip of tea, then dabbed at her lips with a napkin. Opening her purse she reached in with a lace gloved hand and took out a card. She handed it to him. “I'll expect you at eight. The servants are off so let yourself in. Please don't be late”, she said as she got up from the table.

“Well, since you said please”.

“You're such an ass”, she said turning and leaving.

The next morning before a board meeting Jim was seated at the long table when Milford came in. He took a look at Jim and said, “Why do I get the feeling that you have tasted the forbidden fruit?”

Jim smiled and answered. “I have no idea. And, as a gentleman I am prevented from even discussing the matter”.

“Where was George Baxter?”, asked Wilcox.

“I don't know, but he sure as hell wasn't with me”, Jim answered.

When the meeting began Milford Wilcox read the audit report to the members of the board, relating the financial account of all the various enterprises in which the corporation was invested. “As you know, we made a profit selling goods and supplies to the Union Army. Now, the war is over. We still have a vast supply of saltpeter. I recommend that we sell to DuPont at a price just above cost, liquidating that stockpile. Next, reconstruction in the south at this time means the Republican Party seeks to punish the people of the former Confederacy. Good sense and good business means that we should avoid any and all business ventures in the southern states until things return to normal. Besides, England is now buying cotton from Egypt. At the same time what use to be plantations are now mostly in ruin. I suggest that we look else where for new investments”, said Wilcox.

“That means doing business in the north or east”, said Fisk.

“True. Does anyone have an idea?”, asked Milford.

“Coal. Coal, sand and clay”, said Jim.

“Why”?, asked Baxter.

“American industry at this time basically sits where there is a water source. Water wheels supply the power to the machines. The railroads are using cut wood to burn in order to make steam for their locomotive engines. Riverboats cruising the rivers are doing the same. The navy will be building more ships constructed of steel and powered with steam. Right now coal companies are digging in Pennsylvania. The companies operating there are in control of the producing fields. However, right now the State of Illinois sits on top of one of the largest coal deposits in the world. Right now, no one is interested in it. My suggestion is to grab the mineral rights now, before any competition comes along and see's what I see”, said Jim.

“How difficult will it be to mine?”, asked Wilcox.

“Mining isn't the problem. Transportation is. We'll need a railroad. The way I see it we mine the coal then load it on to railroad hopper cars that then take the coal to Chicago. What Chicago doesn’t buy we load on to barges. The barges then float down the Mississippi River, delivering coal to any and all who want to buy from us. At the same time the place I have in mind also has large deposits of silica sand and clay”, Jim explained.

“What good is sand and clay”?, asked Frisk.

“Once we have the coal we have an inexpensive source of heat. The heat will be used to manufacture glass from the silica sand. At the same time by mining the clay in the area we can manufacture bricks, tiles and pipe”, Jim answered.

“Interesting. Very Interesting. Is there a particular place in Illinois that we should prefer?”, asked Wilcox.

“Yes sir, right now it is a little spot on the map being called, “Hardscrabble”.

“How difficult will it be for us to get established?”, asked Fisk.

“It shouldn't be too hard. The main thing is to get there and gain the mineral rights before someone else does”, Jim replied.

“Very well. Jim since this is your baby you get to nurse it. Make arrangements to go to Illinois and that town. What's it called again?”, asked Milford.

“It has no name. Right now it's just, Hardscrabble”.

“Oh yes, Hardscrabble”, Wilcox responded.

“I forgot to mention that Hardscrabble has not been incorporated as yet”, offered Jim.

“Excellent, We can create a company town. We buy up all the prime real estate, control the workers and their salaries and handpick the local government”, said Baxter.

“You do that and I withdraw from the enterprise”, Jim stated.

“Why?”, asked Baxter.

“The Pennsylvania coal towns are company towns. They own the mines, houses, company stores and even charge their workers for the tools they use. Young boys eight and nine years old go down into the mines with their fathers every day. Do we want to have the reputation of using child labor in our enterprise? If so, then like I said, I'm out”, said Jim.

“I'm sure at the moment most of us agree with you. As I have said, this is your idea”, said Wilcox.

“Fine, I'll probably be there for at least a year. I will return from time to time to report to this board. Most of the time I will be in contact using the telegraph. I'll leave sometime next week” Jim advised.

A week later Jim stepped down from a passenger car belonging to the Rock Island Railroad onto the platform in Chicago. Hardscrabble was now eighty one miles away on the Vermillion River. Unfortunately there was no direct rail service to the settlement. Out of necessity Jim rode the American Central train to a location where he could purchase a horse and tack. He then traveled on horse back following directions, then finding and crossing the Vermillion River, arriving in Hardscrabble late in the afternoon.

Over supper at the only boarding house in the village Jim discussed his plan to organize a coal mining operation with David Blum. As Blum reached for another slice of roast beef he looked at Jim and at the same time listened to his offer. “I'm sorry that you came all this way friend, but you have been beat to the wire in this horse race. Many people are interested in investing here. As a matter of fact the glass industry is trying to get its foot in the door,”said Blum.

“Who do I have to deal with for the coal enterprise?”, asked Jim.

“A man by the name of Worthy S. Streator. He has large holdings in railroads and is well connected politically. Right now, as I've mentioned he has all of the coal rights. He'll bring in the railroad connecting this soon to be town to Chicago and the Mississippi River. When he's finished he and his investors will also own the mineral rights. Still, if you're interested you have an opportunity to invest in the glass industry,”,said Blum.

“Right now I feel as though I'll need a bit more information when it comes to glass”, said Jim.

“To be on the safe side while you study your options why not let me show you around. I'll show you the possible financial opportunities and how this village will transform into a city”. Blum suggested.

The next day the two men made a tour of the village. Jim stood looking at the area already set aside for the glass industry. “The plan is to manufacture bottles and jars of all sizes. Think about how many products can and could be bottled. They say that in England beer drinkers who used to have a four and a half gallon keg in the kitchen that lasted a week before going flat now are content to take home a crate of four quart bottles. They keep longer and in good condition', said Blum.

“Interesting. You say that Streator and his people have bought the mineral rights here. Does that include sand and clay?”, asked Jim.

“Not at the moment. Why would you want clay?”

“I want the sand for the making of glass. I want the clay for the manufacturing of tile and pipe. You see, Mister Streator will need other revenue for his coal and railroad. I see him selling me coal to heat my kilns and charging me a fair price to transport my finished products to market. So, Mister Blum I want the sand and clay in Hardscrabble. Do we have an agreement?”,asked Jim

Blum removed his pocket watch from his vest and noticed the time. “It is almost noon. May I suggest that we stop by my office and sign the necessary papers and forms. Having done that what say we lunch at the pub and restaurant? I'll unroll the planned platting of lots and real estate. That should give you an idea of what we vision here”.

Taking bites from a somewhat salty ham sandwich Jim looked at the proposed layout of the town. After wiping his mouth with a napkin he said, “I see you have plans for a schoolhouse”.

“Actually, the schoolhouse has already been built. As a matter of fact Miss Audrey Webber, the new teacher is setting things up as we speak. Her reading books came in last week”.

“Where is the school?”, asked Jim.

“It's one block after the church. You can't miss it”, Blum answered.

Jim got up from the table smiled and said, “Well, Mister Blum I want to thank you for taking the time to help me. I now must wait until I receive further orders from my corporation. It seems to me that everything from here on in will be in the hands of lawyers. Meanwhile, if you don't mind, I'd like to see things here on my own. I hope you understand”.

“I understand perfectly. If you have any further questions do not hesitate to ask me”, Blum replied.

Jim walked through the streets of the village and finally came to the schoolhouse. The front door was open and he quietly walked inside.

The teacher, Audrey Webber was busy washing the chalkboard that hung on one wall. She did not hear

Jim enter the building. He stood watching her for a few moments then, in a quiet voice and in the Dakota language said, “It has been too many summers since I saw you last”.

With her back towards him he saw the sudden movement of her body when she was taken by surprise at the sound of his voice and her body stiffened. Then, he spoke to her again in Dakota. “The last time we were together, you kissed my cheek”.

From where she stood crying she finally answered as she turned around. “James. Oh James, it is you. How did you find me?”, she asked.

“Hello Kathleen. It's just the luck of the draw. I remember my mother telling me years ago your mothers maiden name, Audrey Webber. I had to check. I was hoping all the way here that it wasn't just a coincidence.”

“I'm glad you did James. I took her name to change my identity.

When I got back to Minnesota the army gave a list of names of all the rescued captives to the press. Naturally, the newspapers printed the story along with our names.”

“How are you Kathleen?”

“Fine, but tell me why are you here in this so called town?”

“I might be here for a year, then its back to Minnesota”.

“I could never go back to anywhere near Ulm or Mankato”.

“I have to questions for you”, said Jim

“Well, ask them”.

“May I call on you?”

“Of course James. Of course. What is your other question?”

“Could you live in St. Paul?”

 

Afterword

The Sioux uprising of 1862 in Minnesota was led by Chief Little Crow. In this writing the author created Matopsapa a fictional character as the war chief responsible. After the attacks on the cities of Ulm and the farms in the area Little Crow escaped into Canada. He made the mistake of returning to the United States and was shot and killed near Hutchinson, Minnesota.

Little Crows body was dragged through the streets of Hutchinson. It was mutilated and scalped. Firecrackers were placed in his ears and his body dumped among garbage that had collected in an alley.

In 1971 Little Crow's body was returned to his grandson for a proper burial. Today a stone tablet sits on the roadside where Little Crow was killed. In 1937 a large bronze statue was cast and erected in Hutchinson. Another was created in 1982.

Little Crow was honored by the McLeod County Historical Society which published Gary Clay Anderson's, “Little Crow”.

The writer of “Wellington's Quest”, writing fiction has the body of Matosapa mutilated by the citizens of Mankato. At the same time the writer has James Wellington honor Matosapa by praying for the warriors soul. All in all, whether in reality or fiction what occurred is another case of man's inhumanity to man.

R.F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Table Of Contents

 

Chapter One The Wars Begin

Chapter Two The uprising

Chapter Three Aftermath

Chapter Four Camp Release

Chapter Five Deputized

Chapter Six Dead Buffalo Lake

Chapter Seven Fort Pierre

Chapter eight White Stone Hill

Chapter Nine Winter On The Yellowstone

Chapter Ten Rescue

Chapter Eleven The Village Of The Dakota's

Chapter Twelve Paha Sapa

Chapter Thirteen Wild Rice

Chapter Fourteen Opportunities

Chapter fifteen Hardscrabble

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 16.02.2014

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