Thunder Rolling in the Mountains (7 page)

The one on the spotted horse was younger, no older than I. She too sat sideways. Her eyes were green like spring grass. Her hair, the red-gold of a setting sun, had come loose and hung around her shoulders. Her face was dirty. There were twigs and burrs in her hair and mud on her skirt. I guessed that she had tried to run away.

The women seemed frightened but they stared straight ahead and said nothing.

Chief Joseph walked over and put his hand on the bridle of the gray horse. "Do not be afraid," he said, using white words. "The soldiers killed many of our women and children at Big Hole. But we do not kill women."

The chiefs met in council and decided to let the settlers go, even the men. Lean Elk told them to get off their horses.

When the settlers stood on the ground, a warrior led their fresh horses away. He brought back some of our worn-out ponies. With broken-down horses, it would take them several suns to get to the white soldiers. By then we would be far across the mountains.

"You are free to go," said Lean Elk. "But do not spy on us."

The settlers left quickly. They were glad to get away.

A moon showed in the east beyond the towering peaks of the Absarokas when we saw the settlers again. Fires burned around the edge of our camp. Swan Necklace and Ferocious Bear rode between the fires, pushing one white man and the two women before them.

My father strode over and began to talk with the warriors. His voice rose in anger. Swan Necklace and Ferocious Bear turned their horses away, and my father brought the settlers to our fire.

The settlers had broken their word. Once they were out of sight, the men slid to the ground and came back along the river, spying on our camp. Our scouts found them skulking in the brush along the river. There was a fight, and three of the men ran away. Our scouts captured the woman with yellow hair, her young sister, and her brother. But two of the men were shot. That made my father angry because the settlers had given us their guns.

He shook his head. "Swan Necklace has become as foolish as Wah-lit-its," he said. "He will make trouble for us, killing unarmed men."

I motioned to the settlers to sit down. Yellow Hair and Dirty Face were the first white women I had seen so close. I stared at them. They were not pretty but they did not look evil.

The white man smiled at me. I said to myself that he was a wicked man and would kill me if he could.

I looked away and did not smile.

While I prepared our evening meal, Bending Willow began to cry. I did not leave the fire, but her cries stopped. I heard soft murmurs and turned to see Yellow Hair rocking the cradleboard. Soon Bending Willow was fast asleep.

The settlers ate baked camas roots and antelope I cooked on sticks. They did not complain. After our meal the white man said some words in our tongue to Chief Joseph, but my father would not answer. He stared into the glowing coals. His heart was troubled. I knew he was worried about what to do with our prisoners.

After our meal I sat beside the young, green-eyed prisoner. She shrank back against the buffalo robe held up by stakes that protected us from the cold.

I smiled and touching my chest said, "Sound of Running Feet." Then I waited.

She did not say her name. So I touched her cheek and pointed to her chest. "Dirty Face," I said.

She looked wildly from side to side. It was no use; she did not understand.

That night the settlers slept in front of the fire, next to our shelter. I gave them buffalo robes against the cold. Dirty Face pulled her robe around her and began
to cry. Yellow Hair spoke softly to her. She put her arm about the girl's shoulders and comforted her, as a mother would comfort a hurt child. It puzzled me to see that white women acted no different from women of the Ne-mee-poo.

T
HE NEXT DAY
Yellow Hair and her sister rode beside me on two of our ponies. They used our saddles and rode like Ne-mee-poo, with their legs hanging down on each side of the horse. Their full skirts were hiked up over their knees and showed their high boots with many buttons.

A cold wind blew down upon us. Dirty Face's hair whipped around her face, and she kept brushing it out of her eyes. At night she moaned and cried out in her sleep. By day she shrank back in fear each time a warrior passed near her.

There was nothing for her to fear. We did not harm women. I wanted to tell her so, but I had no words to say to Dirty Face and she had no words to say to me. She did not understand my hand signs. A thought came into my head.

I pulled a hat out of my pony's pack. It was a basket hat. Many of our women wore them. I put the hat
on. Then I took it off and handed it to her, making signs.

Dirty Face pulled the hat over her flying hair. She smiled a shy smile. She said no words, but for the rest of that day she looked less like a trapped deer.

I felt good inside.

When the shadows grew long, we stopped for the night. Before the ponies were tethered, my father chose two that had carried heavy loads that day. He called to the settlers.

"You go now," he said. "Travel down the river. Go back to your homes."

I gave them bundles of camas-root cakes and dried fish to eat on the way.

Yellow Hair and Dirty Face climbed on the horses. Warriors swam the animals across the river. The white man crossed, riding behind Two Moons. The settlers started off along the riverbank, the man walking beside the horses. With tired ponies and a walking man, they would move slowly. That gave us more time.

For many suns we traveled toward the rising sun. Our path led us past fountains of bubbling mud and beside small lakes. Whenever we could, we followed a stream. Scouts brought word that soldiers waited for us on all the trails. No matter which one we took, the Blue Coats waited for us.

Peaks of the snowy Absaroka Mountains rose up through the falling snow. "There are many tall peaks
in the Absarokas," said Lean Elk, "more than the fingers you have on both hands. They all have passages between them, even those that look closed."

He took us through a strange canyon. The towering rocks nearly met over our heads. They shut out the sun and made the world full of dark shadows. No birds sang here and the only sounds came from our ponies' hoofs as they struck the earth and from the roar of the rushing stream below. The path threaded through mountains and between rocks. It twisted and turned. It was so narrow that there was scarcely room for a single horse. In places we could not pass until our scouts had chopped off pine boughs that hung across the path.

Once more we slipped through the general's fingers. We crossed the river on the other side of the Absarokas and entered the land of the Crows.

Looking Glass rode ahead to let the Crows know that our people were on their way. The Crows had always been peaceful with us against the Sioux, the Bannocks, and the cunning Assiniboins.

At last we arrived at a Crow camp. The braves ate with us. They smoked long-stemmed iron wood pipes with the face of their chieftain carved on the bowls and treated us as friends. They gave us bullets. But in the end, fearing the revenge that the White Soldiers might put on them, they refused to help us.

My father called the council—all the chieftains who could give him advice. Lean Elk with his burning gaze, Ollokot, Looking Glass, White Bird, Too-hul-hul-sote, Lone Bird, Yellow Bull, Antelope Red Stone, and Ferocious Bear gathered to talk. Chief Joseph looked at each man as never before.

"Now all the tribes are enemies. Every white man in these mountains is already our enemy," he said. "We were warned on that night, thirteen snows ago, when Preacher Chivington raided Black Kettle's village far south at Sand Creek. With white soldiers he came down on the camp before the sky turned light. He smashed heads, cut throats, slashed off ears. Blood ran across the earth and into the stream. That night the tribes learned to hate the settlers. And now..."

"We hate ourselves," said Lean Elk through his teeth.

"Ourselves," shouted young Gray Panther.

Yellow Bull, the father of Red Moccasin Tops, drew a finger across his throat.

Ollokot said nothing.

My father went on. "The one-armed general is far behind us. But the click-clack has told soldiers at every fort to look for us. They come from all sides. We are in danger."

Then Ferocious Bear struggled to his feet and stood silent. From the day we had left Wallowa and crossed
the flooding Snake, from the battle of White Bird Canyon, from those days to this moment, no one knew what he thought.

But my father said to the old man in a gentle voice, "Speak."

"Looking Glass has cost us much," said Ferocious Bear. "White Bird said, 'Go north to the Old Lady's country. Go join Sitting Bull.' But we heeded Looking Glass and came south. We have lost many warriors. We have lost many women, many children."

Too-hul-hul-sote nodded his great head. "Ferocious Bear's words are strong," he said. "Looking Glass said the Crows would fight beside us. But the Crows will not help us. They are no longer our brothers. We must travel north to join Sitting Bull."

Looking Glass was angry. His black eyes flashed like his glass when struck by the sun's rays. "So be it," he said.

"So be it," said my father.

F
EROCIOUS
B
EAR
and Too-hul-hul-sote were right. In three suns the Blue Coats caught up with us. We were traveling across a broad plain. Our scouts saw the dust from their horses and waved a red blanket to warn us. Lean Elk ordered the warriors to pull their ponies around and get ready to fight. While the warriors waited for the white soldiers, we escaped up a dry streambed into a wide canyon.

For two suns Chief Joseph led us up the canyon. The trail took us across rolling hills covered with sage brush. The canyon rim was rocky and no trees grew there. We saw no Blue Coats, only rabbits and ground squirrels and woodchucks.

The shadows were long when Lean Elk and the warriors joined us. He was angry and at once called the council together. Chief Joseph halted our march and the women made camp while the chiefs met.

Swan Necklace led his pony to our fire. Across its
back lay an antelope. He skinned it and cut the meat into chunks for roasting. We had not had fresh meat since we entered the Absarokas.

"It is a bitter day for us," he said, wiping his knife on a clump of dry grass.

"Were many killed?" I asked.

"None. Three were wounded but not bad." He grinned. "The buffalo gun I took from a ranch shoots good. It speaks so loud the Blue Coats think I have a cannon." For a moment his heart was light.

"The Blue Coats lost many men," he said. "They fight like women."

I was puzzled. "Why was the day bitter?" I asked.

"The Crows fought beside the Blue Coats," he said, his mouth twisting with disgust. "When I saw them my heart was just like fire. We battled the Crows for two suns."

I caught my breath. The world was against us. We could not fight forever.

Swan Necklace saw the fear in my eyes. He placed a gentle hand on my chin and turned my face toward him. "Do not fret, my love," he said. "As long as I live no Blue Coat will harm you."

I smiled with my lips but not with my heart.

He loaded the rest of the antelope onto his pony and took it to the cooking fire of Two Moons.

Before the morning star shone we broke camp.
Lean Elk urged us to hurry. He said we must now fear all the tribes. We must go fast to the Old Lady's country.

We left the canyon and moved north for six suns. Lean Elk drove us from dark to dark. The stars shone above us when we got onto our horses and they shone when we got off. We rested little and traveled much. We were weary and our ponies were weary.

When we struck camp the frost glittered on the prairie like a lake sparkling in the sun. The ground was still hard when the sun climbed halfway up the sky. I no longer packed my buffalo robe. After I climbed on my pony, I pulled it around me and Bending Willow.

Our food ran low. There was no time to hunt. On the morning that we came to a herd of mountain sheep, there were only two cakes of camas roots and berries in the bag on my pony's saddle. The young men killed several sheep but not enough to stay our hunger. Each family got only one small piece of meat. We waited until nightfall to eat it. We did not stop to cook while the sun was high.

We buried the skins and the horns beside the trail. It hurt me to see the fleecy skins covered with earth, but we had no time to tan them for robes or make the horns into drinking cups.

One day we met a band of Crows. They had been
hunting and had camped to dry buffalo meat. They were no longer our brothers, so we took their horses and left our worn-out ponies behind. With fresh horses we could move faster.

On the sixth sun we came to a great river. On the other shore stood a few buildings. Beside them were boxes and boxes filled with supplies for the soldiers. At this place the river was broad but not deep. The water was so low that we could swim our horses across. There was no need to make bullboats.

Some of our warriors crossed the river first. They called us to follow them. There were only a few white men and they did not want to fight.

Our food was almost gone. My father asked the white men for food. They gave him a slab of bacon and a small sack of hard bread. It was so little that it was worthless.

My father's eyes were hard and angry. He led us up a small creek and told us to make camp. Then he left with the warriors. Soon we heard guns speak. The shooting went on until light streaked the eastern sky.

It was not long after that the warriors rode into camp. They called us to bring the pack ponies and follow them. We hurried back to the river.

The white men had fled. The warriors chopped open the boxes and we loaded the horses. We took flour and sugar, beans and bacon. We took coffee. We
took pots to cook in—the first we had seen since Big Hole. The camp would feast that night.

After we had loaded the ponies, our warriors burned the rest of the supplies. No Blue Coats would eat that food. As we rode north, a cold wind carried the smell of smoke from the river.