Jacob: Part Five (Partial Rough Draft)

Five
The War

The sun had not yet shown itself over the horizon, but, it would do so shortly. However, there was enough light for the four men to make their way as they walked out of their village at Rice Creek. They had no horses, but they had four antiquated rifles and plenty of bullets. The four were on their way to hunt in the Big Woods up north. They had not been eating very well of late because of Galbraith’s stance on food distribution before the annuity arrives.
The four of course, had names. There was Kaomdei ye ye dan (Breaking Up) and Sungigidan (Brown Wing). Their two friends were named Nagiwe cakate (Killing Ghost) and Pazoiyopa (Runs Against Something When Crawling). All four were just past twenty winters.
It was daylight when the four approached Little Crow’s village where they made straight for the wakpa (river). Their intention was to borrow a wa’ta (boat) for the crossing and then return it on their way back. As they neared the river bank they saw their old friend Yellow Hair, and Brown Wing yelled out, “Yellow Hair what is an old man like you doing up so early?” Upon seeing the four youths that were only ten winters younger than himself, he answered, “This old man is repairing this wa’ta so Fighting Woman, Good Thunder and myself can cross to the north bank, we are going hunting; there is very little food in the village.” “Do you want to come with us?” asked Brown Wing. “Where are you going?” “Up to the Big Woods.” “No we are going to stay close to the village; there is still some small game hereabouts.”
As the four are getting into another boat, Yellow Hair asked them why they did not join the Soldiers’ Lodge. Answering for himself and his friends, Killing Ghost said, “We do not want to fight. It is better to hunt.” Yellow Hair’s response is that a fight is not expected. “Not with one hundred and fifty braves surrounding eight traders and Galbraith. We expect them to give us the gold and that will be that. But you have the right idea. To fight the Wasichus would only bring disaster to the Dakota.” When Yellow Hair had finished speaking he placed his foot upon the boat the four sat in and gave it a good shove out into the river. Then with a wave of his hand he turned his back on them and resumed the task at hand. He was the last Dakota to see the four men until they brought back word that they had started a war.

Robinson (Robby) Jones is sitting on the steps that lead into his small store and he is thinking about how good life is. It is a Sunday morning and though warm, it is not oppressively hot. He is not particularly a religious man, but on that Sunday morning he gives thanks for all the blessings the Good Lord has bestowed upon him. He has a wonderful wife and two fine children, Clara who is fifteen and her infant brother of eighteen months. True, they are adopted, but he could not love them more than if they had come from his own loins. After his family, Robby was thankful for his land. It was only a quarter of a section, but by gum it was his.
Sitting in the morning sun thinking of what else he should be thankful for, he sees four Indians walking on the road that passes in front of his store. They distract him from his thoughts for only a moment. Indians are a common sight. They come to the store to trade. Sometimes he and his wife would invite one or two to have dinner or supper with them. In fact he knows many Indians he considers his friends. These four though are strangers; he has never seen them before. As they pass out of sight, he again thinks of his good fortune, stands and goes into the store.
The Indians seeing Robby sitting on his stoop give him no more thought than he has given them. They are young. They do not remember a time before the Wasichus came. The Whites are a familiar sight to them as Indians are a familiar sight to Robby Jones.
Upon entering his store, Robby tells Clara he’s thinking about going over to the Baker’s place. Her mother, his wife, is there visiting, and seeing as how it’s Sunday and trade will be light, he asks Clara if she can look after things.
Robby’s land is demarcated by a split rail fence, and at the northern boundary, at the fence post closest to the road, a hen has built a nest and laid her eggs. Killing Ghost and Runs Against are arguing about who is the better shot. Brown Wing is thinking about how hungry he is, while Breaking Up eyes the ground looking for the right size stone to hurl at the next bird he sees. He almost misses it, the hen’s nest, and if he had, perhaps the seven hundred people that were to lose their lives in the coming weeks might have been spared.
“Look what I have found!” shouts Breaking Up. The other three turn to see him kneeling on the ground holding a hen’s egg. “Don’t take them,” says Killing Ghost excitedly, “they belong to a White Man we will get into trouble.” Hearing those words does something to Breaking Up. He was ten winters old when he, his family and his band were moved onto the reserve. And over the last moon or two he has seen his mother go hungry because of the White Man. He slowly stands and extends the hand with the egg in it, and for a moment holds it in front of Killing Ghost’s face. Then he violently throws the egg to the ground and shouts, “Now no one eats it! You are a coward. You are afraid of the White Man. You are afraid to take even an egg from him, though you are half starved. Yes, you are a coward, and I will tell everyone so.” “I am not a coward,” counters Killing Ghost. “I am not afraid of the White Man and I will show you that I am not. I will go to his house and shoot him. Are you brave enough to go with me?” “Yes, I will go with you,” answers Breaking Up. It is decided. The four of them will go back to the store they had just passed and Killing Ghost will kill the White Man sitting outside.
Leaning on his counter, Robby sees the four Indians coming back down the road and turn onto the path that leads to his store. Speaking to Clara, Robby informs her, “Looks like we might get some business after all.”
The Indians come single file down the path and up the steps. Killing Ghost is in the lead with Breaking Up close behind him. Seemingly, he is prodding Killing Ghost with the barrel of his rifle. At the door to the store Killing Ghost hesitates, “Stop poking me with your gun. I know what I have to do, and I will do it. Now watch me.”
As the Indians enter, Robby walks around from behind the counter and says expectantly, “Anything I can help you boys with?” Without replying to his query, the Indians walk round the small space taking things off of shelves and counters and putting them back in disarray. Finally Breaking Up says to Robby, “My friend here wants to speak with you,” and pushes Killing Ghost toward the proprietor.
With a fatuous grin, Killing Ghost asks, “What is the trade for a sack of flour?”
He has run the store for a few years and knows a paying customer when he sees one, Robby does. The Indian standing before him is not a paying customer. He decides that he has wasted enough of his Sunday in the store, picks up his rifle and says, “You boys decide on what you want and my Clara will take good care of you.” Then turning to Clara he says, “I’ll be at the Baker’s. Your ma and me will be back in time for dinner. We’ll be eating late today, about two o’clock I figure.” With that announcement, he leaves the store, smiling at the Indians as he walks out.
The four braves are caught off guard. They look at one another not knowing quite what to do. Then suddenly, as one, they rush for the door and are through it, and three of the four are down the steps, hurrying to catch up with Jones when Killing Ghost calls to them, “Wait I have a plan.” He has stayed under the small ramada at the entrance to the store.
The three halt, turn and wait as he descends the steps. “What is your plan?” Breaking Up asks. “Just follow me. Let us see where he is going,” rejoins Killing Ghost. “I thought you were going to kill him.” “Did you not hear him say he was going to his neighbor’s lodge? We may be able to kill more than just one white man. Follow me.” “Why did you not kill him at his store?” “I did not want to kill him with the woman there.”
Breaking Up looks to Runs Against and Brown Wing and says fervently, “Do you think our brother will kill the White Man before we all grow old?” Without another word, Killing Ghost starts down the same worn path that Robby Jones has just traversed. The other three, with a shrug of their shoulders, and without saying another word, follow him.
As the four reach the end of the path, and emerge from the woods, they see a clearing with a small hill at its center, on which stands a farm house. Sitting under a white oak, which sits at the bottom of the hill are three men. One of the men is Robby Jones. The other two are Howard Baker, who owns the farm and Varanus Webster, an immigrant from back east. Webster and his wife have been living out of their covered wagon on Baker’s land until they find a place of their own. Baker and his wife have two children, an infant and a boy seven years of age.
So intent are the men with their conversation, they do not notice the approach of the Indians. Mr. Baker is the first to notice them, “What have we here?” Turning to see as to what he is referring, Jones and Webster perceive the four Indians.
Before any of the White Men can say a word, Killing Ghost advances to Robby Jones and demands they be given whiskey. To which Jones replies, “This is not my home, but even if it was, this is the “Lord’s Day. There is no drinking of whiskey on Sunday.” “The missionary told us of your Lord. He said everyday is the Lord’s Day.” Yes, he was right, but Sunday is a special Lord’s Day.”Killing Ghost then turns to his compatriots and declares in his native tongue, “Wasichu un wacinhnuni wanyaka ni’ye.” (You see, White Men are crazy.)
On the frontier, men were never very far away from their guns. The first thing the Indians observed was that each man had a rifle within easy reach. Continuing in the Dakota language Killing Ghost told the other three that the first thing they had to do was disarm the White Men.
As he finished speaking, Mrs. Jones walks up carrying a bucket half filled with water in one hand and a soup ladle in the other. Saying hello to the Indians, she puts the bucket down among the men and places the ladle in the bucket and says, “With all your jawboning I thought you men would be parched by now.” As she turns to go back to the house Mr. Baker asks, “What are you women doing up there?” With a smile, Mrs. Jones replies, “Mrs. Webster and I are helping Ann with your dinner Mr. Baker, and we are also looking after your little ones.”
While the White Men are diverted by Mrs. Jones, Breaking Up whispers in the Dakota tongue, “I know how we can disarm them. We will challenge them to a shooting contest; one shot each, but reload your gun as soon as you shoot. Watch them, if they do not reload, then after the last Wasichu has fired his gun we will turn our guns on them. There are three of them and four of us. Have your bullets ready.”
Addressing the three seated men, Breaking Up says, “Would you like to see who is better at shooting, you Whites or us Indians?”
The men look at one another, smile, and Howard Baker answers the challenge with, “Sounds like a good idea. But I must warn you there ain’t a man within fifty miles that can out-shoot me. Let me get a couple planks and draw circles on them, then we’ll nail them to this here oak. And we’ll each get one shot at fifty paces, the group that has the most holes in the center of their plank wins. But only three of you can shoot. It would be unfair to have an extra man.”
After the planks of wood are secured to the tree and the fifty paces walked off, Baker tells the Indians that because they are his guest they may shoot first.
The seven men, three Whites and four Indians, stand fifty paces from the old white oak. The Whites are thinking that they’ll show the Indians a thing or two. The Indians are not thinking of the contest. They are nervous to a man, each hoping that when the time comes to fire at the Whites that they will have the courage to do so; not one of them has ever killed another human being before.
Among the Indians it does not matter who shoots first, so Runs Against stands up to the line, aims and fires. He is so nervous he misses the plank entirely. The White Men find it an effort to hold back their laughter.
The report of the first shot brings Mrs. Jones to the door of the farmhouse. As she is looking down the slight rise on which the farmhouse sits, Ann Baker calls to her, “What was that shot?” “Looks like the men are having a shooting contest with the Indians. I think I will walk down there and tell Robby that we soon have to leave, we have our own dinner to prepare and the children will be getting hungry.”
By the time Mrs. Jones reaches the site of the contest the Indians have finished shooting and Mr. Webster is just about to take the first shot for the Whites. Not wanting to distract him she says nothing. Then in short order, Robby and Howard Baker take their turn. After the last shot is fired, the White Men start walking toward the target, with Mrs. Jones following, she is intent on speaking with her husband. The Indians lag behind a moment. Robby notices and says to his companions, “Looks like they’re scolding the one who missed.”
The Indians are in fact arguing, but not about a bad shot. Killing Ghost is saying to Breaking Up that he does not like the idea of killing a White Woman. “It will be bad enough when the other Whites find out what we have done, but to kill a White Woman!” And Breaking Up tells him that they have no choice. “She knows what we look like and she will tell the other Whites and they will hang us from that tree,” he says pointing to the oak. The other two, Brown Wing and Runs Against stand back and listen to their friends and wonder what they have gotten themselves into. Breaking Up and Killing Ghost stare at each other for a moment and then Killing Ghost shrugs his shoulders and says, “Death to all of the Wasichu!”
By now the White men and Mrs. Jones are standing under the oak looking at the two planks. The Whites have won the contest. The men are smiling at one another and Mrs. Jones is just about to tell her husband that they should be leaving when a shot rings out and Robby Jones falls to the ground.
Before Webster and Baker knew what hit them, they too were on the ground; Webster dead and Baker dying. Things were happening very fast and Mrs. Jones did not have time to scream before a bullet ripped into her heart killing her instantaneously.
Up to the house the two women heard the gunfire and thinking it was more target shooting went about their business. It was not until Mrs. Baker’s son looked out the window; saw the men and Mrs. Jones lying on the ground with the Indians standing over them and said, “Mommy, what is wrong with daddy?” that she had an inkling anything was wrong.
Wiping the flour from her hands, she had been rolling dough for biscuits; Ann Baker walks over to the window. Seeing the unbelievable sight of her husband and friends lying in the dust, she takes hold of her boy and calls to Mrs. Webster, “Please get the infant and come with me.” Not waiting for a reply, with son in tow, she goes over to the trap door leading to the root cellar and lifts it, telling her son to descend a wait for her. “Please hurry Mrs. Webster, I will explain in a moment.”
Mrs. Webster is slow in comprehending what is going on; however, she picks the baby up from the crib and walks to where Mrs. Baker is awaiting her. “What is it Ann?” Holding the door in her hand, Ann Baker informs Mrs. Webster that there may be trouble, but she will explain its nature once they are all safely hidden in the cellar. “Our husbands,” exclaims Mrs. Webster, “are they all right?” “Please, we must get into the cellar now!” Looking into Mrs. Baker’s eyes and seeing the fear within, Mrs. Webster rapidly descends into the blackness of the Baker’s root cellar, followed by Ann Baker who closes the door behind her.
As the door closes over the two women and the two children, down at the oak tree Killing Ghost speaks to Breaking Up, “I told you I would do it.” But Braking Up does not hear his words. He is too intent on the scene before him. Mrs. Jones and Webster are dead. Baker is alive, but bleeding badly, there is a large pool of blood next to where he lies. He moans, but very softly, and the more blood that flows from his body and onto the earth, the softer his moans become. Robby Jones is a big man and the bullet that hit him entered his chest and did not exit. He has more fight in him however; it takes the form of not giving the Indians the satisfaction of crying out. He is too weak to get up, but he paws the earth with his hands, he kicks the ground with his boots and even puts dirt into his mouth so he will not scream out.
Respecting his fortitude, the four Indians do not put another bullet into him. They know he will die, and that it is only a matter of minutes, but they were taught that in battle a brave enemy was to be accorded a death of his own choosing. Besides, their thoughts are now turning to their escape. They are forty miles from home in enemy territory. As soon as the bodies are discovered they will be hunted down. “Let us go,” warns Runs Against, “the Wasichu will be down upon us before we can leave this place.” So the four take flight up the path they had walked down less than an hour ago.
In less than one hour, the four young men changed not only the destiny of those they had just killed and those who were soon to lose their lives, but they also changed forever the destiny of the Santee Sioux.
As the woods thin, they see Jones’ store and the road that will lead them home and to safe refuge. Coming abreast of the store they see Clara standing in the doorway. Without hesitating, Breaking Up raises his rifle, takes aim and squeezes the trigger; the bullet hits Clara in the chest, knocking her backwards and into the store. As she lies on the wooden floor, staring at the overhead beams supporting the roof, and just before she dies, she wonders, “Why?”
That is also the question someone else wanted answered. “Why did you do it? Shouts Killing Ghost. In a calm voice, Breaking Up answers, “She could have told the Whites about us.” Then he adds, “We need horses. The next farm we come to we will see what is available.”
About the same time that Breaking Up and Killing Ghost were having their discussion, and Clara lay on the wooden floor dying, the trap door to the Baker’s root cellar was cautiously being opened. The occupants of the cellar have been standing in total darkness; there had not been time to fetch tallow or candle.
When no sounds are heard above, when there are no footfalls from above, Mrs. Baker decides to investigate. When she leaves the cellar, she goes to a window and looks down towards the oak and she sees the men and Mrs. Jones lying on the ground. The Indians are nowhere to be seen.
She calls to Mrs. Webster, telling her to come up. And then tells her son to stay where he is and to look after his baby brother. Then together the two women run down the incline to their husband and friends. All were dead save Robby Jones. However, he had not long to live.
Ann Baker kneels down by her husband’s body, cradles his head in her arms and with tears flowing down her cheeks she says, “We have to get some help. We have to make for the Olson place. They live just north of here.
While the two women hurry north for help, the four Indians are running south hoping to find a farm with no one about and good strong horses either in the barn or in a field. Their only thought is to get out of the vicinity before the alarm can be raised.
Luck seems to be with them so far. Off to right is a farm and next to the barn are two harnessed horses and a wagon. The horses are not hitched to the wagon; it looks like someone started to hitch horses to wagon, but stopped or was interrupted before the job was complete.
The first to see the horses is Brown Wing. “Wait look over there!” His exclamation halts the others in mid-stride. When they see what he is looking at, they group together and then hunker down off the road.
Run Against asks nervously, “Do you think anyone is around?” “Does not matter if they are or not,” says Breaking Up, “we need those horses and if someone tries to stop us from taking them we will have to kill us another Wasichu.”
But their luck stays with them. This is Sunday, and it is dinner time. The farmer is having Sunday dinner with his daughter and son-in-law. The horses were harnessed in anticipation for an after dinner ride.
With the quietude that all Indians are supposed to possess, the four advance towards the barn where Brown Wing and Killing Ghost position the horses in front of the wagon. While Runs Against does the hitching, Breaking Up peers around the side of the barn to see if anyone approaches. Once the horses are hitched to the wagon, Brown Wing jumps up into the driver’s seat and tells the other three to climb on board. With Runs Against next to him and Killing Ghost and Breaking Up in the bed behind, he drives the horses forward and out onto the road.
At that same instant the women, Mrs. Baker and Mrs. Webster reached the Olsen household. Upon seeing the state the women were in Olsen had no doubt as to their veracity. Turning the women over to his good wife, he tells his twelve-year old son Lars to saddle the family horse and ride to Ripley and tell the people what had happened and to send help at once. He himself will go to the Baker farm and retrieve the children.
Thus word of the Indians’ deed started to spread, to the northwest with Lars Olsen and due south with the four Indians. Lars reached his destination first. The people of Ripley found it hard to believe and those that did entertain the idea that some Indians might have killed some Whites put it down to a few drunken Indians.
The Indians did not have the trouble Lars was having convincing others that what transpired in Acton actually happened. When they made it back to their village at Rice Creek, they went immediately to their chief Wicaho ocokayaduta (Red Middle Voice) to tell him what they had done. But on the way to his lodge they shouted out to everyone they saw that they had killed Whites.
Red Middle Voice, when told of the four’s exploits was worried that the deaths of the whites would be attributed to his band as a whole. And that they, the entire band, would have to pay the price for what the four young men had done. Not only had they killed White Men, but they had also killed two White Women. The four would have to be given over to the soldiers and even then Galbraith would think the rest of the band complicit in some way. He was looking for an excuse to withhold this year’s annuity. He probably knew it was not coming and this would give him the reason he needed for denying us our gold and supplies. And it will not be only us, but all the Dakota of the reserve will suffer and starve.
Those were his thoughts as he asked the four to retell their story for a second time. He wanted to weigh his options and needed all the details to make an informed decision. If it had not been for the killing of the women a claim of self defense might be made.
By now many braves were crowding round. They too listened intently to the four describe how first the store owner was shot and then the other men and the woman. Each brave took credit for the person he shot. It was Runs Against who shot Mrs. Jones. He was slow on sighting his rifle and by the time he had raised his gun to point at the men they were already on the ground and the only White left standing was the woman. So he shrugged his shoulders and “I put a bullet into her.” And Breaking Up told how he had shot the woman in the store as they passed. When they had finished telling their story for the second time a yell went up from the crowd, “Death to the Whites!”
“Death to the Whites! The idea intrigued Red Middle Voice. With the regular soldiers away fighting somewhere in the south and the fort (Fort Ridgely) manned with volunteers who were nothing more than farmers, this would be the perfect time to rid their land of the hated Wasichus. However, He knew that his small band could not do it alone. At most they had perhaps three hundred warriors. And once they went on the attack the state (Minnesota) would form a militia, which based on the number of Wasichu farmers that have come in over the last few years would probably number in the thousands.
To understand why Red Middle Voice could only muster three hundred braves and what happened next on that Sunday night of 17 August 1862 it is imperative to know how the Dakota, or Santee Sioux, reservation was laid out in 1862.
As stated earlier, the reservation was divided into the Upper and Lower Agencies. With the Wahpeton and the Sisseton comprising the Upper Agency, hence they were known as the Upper Sioux. And the Mdewakanton and the Wahpekute were known as the Lower Sioux because they came under the aegis of Lower Agency. However, there were not just four villages. In fact there were nine villages along the southern bank of the Minnesota River. Each separated by a few miles. The villages were comprised of sub bands made up of extended families and friends. If all the sub bands acted in concert then more than one thousand warriors could be amassed to rid the land of the Wasichu.
The braves of Rice Creek were yelling for blood by the time the four had recounted their story for a second time. And Red Middle Voice was inclined to agree with the sentiment. Asking for quiet, he told his braves that they must enlist the other bands of the reserve if they were to go to war. “Let us see what Shakopee (Little Six) and his braves have to say.”
Shakopee’s village was the next village to the south of Red Middle Voice’s and was situated at the confluence of the Redwood and Minnesota Rivers. It might be said that his braves were the most radical of all the bands. His village supplied more braves the Soldiers’ Lodge than any other village on the reservation.
Word of the killings was rapidly spreading down the river from village to village. By the time Red Middle Voice and his braves arrived in Shakopee’s village there were hundreds of braves there waiting for them.
Shakopee was of the same mind as Red Middle Voice. He was sure that they all would pay a price for the actions of the four young braves. He believed that even if they turned them over to the army, Galbraith would find some way to punish them all. He also knew they would need the support of the entire Dakota Nation if they were to wage war against the powerful Americans.
By the minute more braves arrived and they were all ready for war. Not only braves were converging on Shakopee’s village, but also the chiefs of the other bands. Even Traveling Hail, a farmer Indian who had been elected Speaker, a position of honor and power, (he had won out over Little Crow for the office) came to see for himself if the account of the killings were true.
The chiefs spoke among themselves and it was decided that someone that could rally all the Dakota bands was needed. And there was only one man that fit that description and his name was Little Crow. Said Shakopee, “Let us go and see Little Crow.”
By August of 1862 Little Crow had adopted many of the ways of the Wasichu. He was living in a square house built for him by Galbraith and he wore the clothes of the White Man. He had been to Washington twice; he knew nothing was going to stop the White Man from taking over the lands that had been the Dakota’s since time began. But he was still the most respected chief of the Santee Sioux. He alone could unite the four bands for war.
And go see Little Crow they did. When Shakopee and Red Middle Voice reached Little Crow’s house the other chiefs were already there. There was Wabasha and Big Eagle and Medicine Bottle. There were also close to four hundred people encircling the house. Most of them were people from Little Crow’s Village but a good number of men were from the Soldiers Lodge, including Long Claws.
Without knocking, the chiefs entered the house and found Little Crow in bed. He was alone, which was surprising because he had four wives, all sisters to one another. The only light in the room came in through the window. It was from the fires outside the house, that some of the braves had built. When Little Crow was sufficiently awake, Red Medicine Bottle said “We have come to tell you what has happened today and to obtain your council.”
Sitting on his bed, surrounded by the chiefs of the other bands, Little Crow heard of the events of that afternoon. When they had finished speaking, Little Crows asked, “Why do you come to me for advice?” And then pointing to Traveling Hail he added, “That is the man you have elected Speaker; let him tell you what to do.” Shakopee stood forward and looking down at the old man on the bed said, “We know what to do. We will wage war on all the Whites and we will drive them from our lands.” “And what do those who are shouting outside my house want?” Red Middle Voice stepped forward so that Little Crow could see his face in the half light of the room and said, “They want to kill all Whites. They too would drive the Americans from the valley and get back our country.”
Looking at the men’s faces, their eyes reflecting the firelight from outside, he noticed for the first time Big Eagle. “And you my friend, do you also want to kill all the Whites?” “No, Red Middle Voice and Shakopee are fools!” said Big Eagle.
It was hard to hear what was being said because of the war whoops and the shouting from outside. Knowing that most of the members of the Soldiers’ Lodge came from Red Middle Voice’s village, Little Crow asked him, “Are those that are making all that noise from the Soldiers’ Lodge?” “Yes, and as you can hear they are ready to fight.” “Then should not their leader be here? Send for Yellow Hair.” “I know Yellow Hair has many coups or would have if he ever yelled coup, but he is a Wasichu he will not fight against his own kind.” “First of all, we are Indians, do we not fight against our own kind? Have you yourself, Red Middle Voice, not killed many Chippewa? Was not your first coup feather given for killing a Winnebago? Yellow Hair may at one time have been a Wasichu, but now he is a Dakota. He is as much a Dakota as you or I. If nothing else, perhaps he can explain what the Wasichus will do about the killings” “We know what they will do. They will punish us all,” opined Red Middle Voice.
Shaking his head and sighing, Little Crow called to one of his wives. When she entered the room he said, “See if you can find Long Claws outside and tell him that I want Yellow Hair. If you cannot find him, you bring me Yellow Hair.”
The conversation did not lag while they awaited the arrival of Yellow Hair. Shakopee stood looking out the window. In the firelight he could see the smiles on the faces of the young braves. He saw the joy in their manner and the hope in their eyes. Turning back to Little Crow he said, “Our people must pay the traders more for pork and sugar than the White Man pays in New Ulm. Then the traders put up signs saying they will sell nothing to Dakotas on credit. They say if the Dakota are hungry let them eat grass. The money for the land goes to Ramsey and Hugh Tyler; I do not know who Hugh Tyler is. The annuity does not come. Some say it will never come. If it does the White Man will say it is his and take it away.”
“Shakopee is right,” offered Red Middle Voice, “and we have no choice but to fight, our hands are already bloody.”
Wabasha (Red Leaf) when he heard Red Middle Voice’s words said, “Those are the words of a child. Red Middle Voice knows that blood will not wash off blood.”
And Traveling Hail asked, “Does Shakopee and Red Middle Voice want hundreds of Dakota to die in a war just so the four young men who killed the settlers will be spared?”
By the time Yellow Hair walked into the room it was evident that there were two factions present, the chiefs who wanted to go to war and those that counseled peace. No one in the room had any great love for the Americans, but a few of the men could see beyond the hatred to what a war with them would mean for the Dakota. One of those men was Yellow Hair.
“You sent for me Little Crow?” “Yes Yellow Hair, have you heard about the killings of the white settlers?” “Yes, it is the talk of the village, but what need have you of me?” “You lead the Soldiers’ Lodge; did you not see your men as you entered?” “I saw some of them. And I know they want war with the Americans.”
At this point Red Middle Voice intruded into the conversation. “Yellow Hair will you lead the men of the Soldiers’ Lodge into battle against the Americans?” He, Yellow Hair, had been standing just inside the door, but then he slowly walked into the room. As he passed each chief he looked them straight in the eye, each in turn. When he reached Red Middle Voice, he stood before him and said, “We should not talk about war with the Americans. The Dakota are brave and strong. They are not fools. Red Middle Voice talks, but what comes from his mouth is the babble of children, as empty as the wind. We have no cannon and little ammunition. There are few Dakota and many Americans. The Americans are as many as the leaves on the trees in the Big Woods. Count your fingers all day long and White Men with guns will come faster than you can count.”
Looking to Little Crow and Big Eagle for support and then turning back to Red Middle Voice, he continued, “I can see with my mind’s eye the stream of blood you are about to pour upon the bosom of our mother the earth. I have lived among the people you think to defy. If we go to war it will mean the total surrender of our beautiful land, the land of a thousand lakes and streams. You are about to commit an act like that of the porcupine who climbs a tree, balances himself upon a springy bough and then gnaws off the very bough upon which he is sitting. And when it gives way, he falls upon the sharp rocks below. I do not say we have no cause to complain, but to war with the Americans is self destruction.
“If you men of the council vote for war, I will fight the soldiers that will surely come. The braves of the Soldiers’ Lodge will do as they wish. But I make war only on soldiers and on the men of the militia; not on farmers, women and children. I hear that those killed today were unarmed farmers, a woman and a girl child. I am done.”
When he had finished speaking heads nodded in agreement with what had been said.
Feeling he was losing the consensus for war, Red Middle Voice pointed to the window and said, “Listen to the voices of the young men. They want to kill. If the chiefs stand in the way, they will be the first to die.”
Perceiving the implied threat, Little Crow said, “Dakota chiefs do not fear to die. They will do what is best for their people and not what will please children and fools. What Red Middle Voice proposes is madness.”
Red middle Voice did not like being called a fool and shouted, “Little Crow is afraid of the White Man. Little Crow is a coward.”
Little Crow looked around the room. The men were all standing. He had remained seated because he was first among the chiefs. Had it not been he that the Great Father had asked to Washington? Not once, but twice. Had he not fought every step of the way when the Wasichu took their land? But as he looked at the faces of the men standing before him, he saw that if he did not act as a chief should act then they would turn to another to lead them. Maybe even Red Middle Voice.
So he stood from the bed and said, “Taoyateduta is not a coward and he is not a fool. He has led not only the Mdewakanton, but all the bands of the eastern Dakota for many winters. All you men who now stand before him, he has led into battle. He has proved his courage on the war path.
“You are like little children. You act as though you are filled with White Man’s devil water. You are like dogs in the Hot Moon when they run mad and snap at their own shadows. We are only little herds of buffalo left scattered. The great herds that once covered the prairies are no more. The White Men are like locusts when they fly so thick that the whole sky is a snowstorm. You may kill one, two, ten; yes as many as the leaves in the forest and their brothers will not miss them. Kill one, two, ten and ten times ten will come and kill you.”
When he had finished speaking there was silence in the room. The only sound heard was the chanting and shouting that came in through the window. Then Shakopee spoke, “The whites fight among themselves far from here. They have no time for little herds of buffalo. Those that infest our land can be killed and driven away. There will never be a better time to go on the warpath.”
“Yes,” said Little Crow, “they fight among themselves away off. Do you here the thunder of their big guns? No; it would take you two moons to run down to where they are fighting and all the way your path would be among white soldiers as thick as tamaracks in the swamps of the Ojibwas. Yes; they fight among themselves, but if you strike at them they will all turn on you and devour you and your women and little children just as the locusts in their time fall on trees and devour all the leaves in one day.
“You are fools. You cannot see the face of your chief; your eyes are filled with smoke. You cannot hear his voice; your ears are full of roaring waters. Braves, you are little children, you are fools. You will die like rabbits when the hungry wolves hunt them in the Hard Moon.”
And then Little Crow said, Taoyateduta is not a coward. I will die with you.”
It took a moment for what he had said to sink in. Little Crow was going to lead the Dakota into war. Shakopee and Red Middle Voice went to the window and shouted “Kill the Whites!” When those outside heard the words they knew that there would be war and a great shout, no it was more like a roar, went up from the crowd.
Wabasha, Big Eagle, Yellow Hair and the others that had lobbied for peace were stunned. Later, Big Eagle and Yellow Hair spoke about Little Crow’s decision to go to war. “Do you think he changed his mind because Red Middle Voice called him a coward?” “I do not know, but I do know that this war will not end well for the Dakota.” Who said what is not important. What is important is that the person who said, “… this war will not end well for the Dakota.” was right. He was oh so right!

It is 18 August 1862. It is two hours before the sun rises, today the war with the Americans starts in earnest, Yellow Hair has just returned to his lodge and is speaking with Suni. “It looks like we are going to war.” Suni, who is lying on their buffalo skin bed, asks he husband, “Is it not good that we drive the Wasichu from the valley?” “If we could drive them from the valley, yes, that would be good, but this land is now a state. I know you do not know what that means, but it means that it is a part of the United States. I have spoken with the White Men down at the agency and the Great Father’s war is not being fought for the wasicunsapas (Negros), it is being fought because some of the states wanted to leave the union. The president, I mean, the Great Father, will never let the Dakota take back their land.”
After pondering what Yellow Hair had said, Suni changes the subject. “Is my father leading his braves?” “Yes, he feels it is his duty, though he counseled for peace. “When does the war begin?” “It begins at sunrise. The braves are going to the agency and kill all of the whites and half- breeds. Some are even talking of killing the cut hairs.” “Are you going with them?” “Yes, I need a gun and bullets, but I do not make war on farmers and store clerks. When the braves have done what they set out to do then I will get what I need from Myrick’s store. I do not think he will object. And when word of the killings gets to the fort, the soldiers will come. Then I will fight, though I know in the end we will be defeated.”
As the sun rose over the agency, out of the receding darkness over one hundred braves appeared. They were painted for war and led by Little Crow who had discarded the White Man’s clothes; he wore no shirt, leggings, a breech clout and his war bonnet. They stopped for a moment in the middle of the settlement; next to Little Crow stood Yellow Hair. Then he, Little Crow, pointed to various buildings and as he did so groups of braves peeled off and surrounded the buildings.
A few whites looked out their windows or stood in doorways wondering what the Indians were up to. At that point no one was worried. They had seen Indians painted for war before, but they, the Indians, would never think of attacking a government installation, which is what the agency was.
The two largest contingents of braves were around the storehouse that harbored the food and supplies. The other surrounded Andrew Myrick’s store, the man who had told them to eat grass.
On a signal from Little Crow the braves opened fire on anyone in sight. The first to die was James Lynd a clerk for Myrick who had been standing in the doorway of Myrick’s store. Then someone shouted, “Now I will kill the dog who would not give me credit!” and bullets torn into the store. A second clerk was killed at that time. Myrick ran out the back in an effort to reach the relative safety of the woods. Kaġa Tha’ta (Wind Maker) saw Myrick leaving the store and shot him. Almost before he hit the ground he was surrounded by a half dozen braves. They took great satisfaction in seeing the fear in his eyes as he lay bleeding on the ground. Then one-by-one each brave took an arrow out of his quiver, strung it and then shot it into the still living body of Andrew Myrick. Just before he died, Ite Du’ta (Scarlet Face) knelt down, grabbed a handful of grass and stuffed it into Myrick’s mouth. Then he stood, and looking down at him as he died said, “Myrick is eating grass himself.”
At the time Myrick was having grass shoved into his mouth, Little Crow and Yellow Hair walked behind the blacksmith shop to where the corral was located and happened upon a number of braves trying to take the horses. They were fighting with three White Men who were hampering their efforts. Astonished at the scene before him, Little Crow asked, “What are you doing? Why don’t shoot these men? What are you waiting for?” The braves promptly fired, killing all three men. Turning to Yellow Hair, Little Crow said, “I think some still do not know that we are at war.”
Yellow Hair watched as the horses were taken away and then he glanced down at the three dead men and said, “If they do not know it yet, they will soon find out.” And then added, “Will you send out scouts to watch the fort and let us know when the soldiers come?” Still shaking his head at the folly of the braves in not immediately killing the whites, Little Crow answered Yellow Hair’s question, “That is a good idea, but what makes you think that the soldiers will come today?” “I saw some whites making for the river and no one was in pursuit. They will get to the fort and tell the soldiers what has happened here. If nothing else the soldiers will see the smoke when you burn the buildings; the fort is only thirteen miles form here.” “Little crow did not look pleased, “You should have said something. I would have sent men to stop them.” “You mean you would have sent men to kill them.” “Yes, of course, we would kill them. Have I not said that this is war?” “They were mostly women and children. How many eagle feathers does a brave receive for killing a child?”
Little Crow, heaved a sigh and said, “You are right. I did not want to go to war and now I may not be able to control the young ones once they have tasted blood. But what are you going to do Yellow Hair?” “I have to get a gun before they are all gone. I’ll get one from Myrick’s store or one of the other stores. Then I’ll get on my pony and round up some braves and wait for the soldiers at the ferry crossing. That is if you agree with my plan.” “Yes, it is a good plan. Killing these clerks has not been hard. But I believe the soldiers will be harder to kill.” “Perhaps, but remember, we will have the element of surprise on our side. Tell the scouts we will await their word on the far side of the river where the ferry docks.” Then the two men looked at one another, both thinking the same thing: “All this is for naught. In the end the Wasichus will win and the Dakota will be finished.”
Everyone living in the agency knew that there was whole scale slaughter taking place and all tried to escape. They were helped in that endeavor because after the initial volleys, the Indians turned their attention to looting. The storehouse doors were ripped off their hinges because they were padlocked and no one knew where the key was located. In front of the storehouse stood eight wagons in a line. The wagons up until a few minutes ago belonged to the traders, now they were plunder of war. Each wagon in turn was loaded with food stocks, flour, salted pork, corn meal and the like. Then the wagons, when fully loaded, left for the village of the man who drove it.
While the Indians at the storehouse emptied its contents onto the waiting wagons, others set about torching the buildings. A few whites had tried hiding in the buildings, but when they were set ablaze the whites ran out into the open where they were quickly dispatched to the next world. Some women, ten in number, were taken captive.
When the storehouse had been emptied and all the buildings set afire, there lay twenty dead whites and mixed-bloods. As mentioned earlier, ten women where on their way to various villages to be slaves or the wife of the man who claimed her. Because the Indians were so intent on gathering trophies of war, forty-seven people from the agency escaped and made it to the fort. They did not all arrive at the same time. The first arrived at about ten o’clock in the morning. Because some had to take round about routes to avoid the Indians, the last of the refugees arrive at the fort about twelve noon.
The commander of the fort, Captain Marsh, had a hard time believing the first accounts of the goings on at the agency. However, as stragglers arrived and told their stories, Captain Marsh gave more credence to what he had heard earlier. Though he still believed the outrages were conducted by only a handful of malcontents.
During the summer of 1862, the fort’s entire contingent of fighting men consisted of only one hundred and thirty men. And the day before the uprising Captain Marsh had sent Lieutenant Sheehan and the fifty men of Company C to Fort Ripley, which was situated on the Mississippi River. So Captain Marsh assembled forty-seven men, had them issued forty rounds each and one day’s rations. He did not think putting down a small uprising would take any great time or effort on his part. But he would be leaving the fort undermanned, so he sent a rider to catch up with Lieutenant Sheehan with a message. The message read: “It is absolutely necessary that you should return with your command to this post. The Indians are raising hell at the lower agency.” Then Captain Marsh left with Quinn the interpreter and Company C. Marsh and Quinn rode mules, the men of Company C walked. The fort was left in the command of a nineteen year old lieutenant by the name of Thomas P. Gere. Gere had command of twenty-nine men. He also had forty-seven fugitives from mayhem to look after.
After Yellow Hair left Little Crow he went to Myrick’s store and entered through the back door. The ground floor housed the store and a small storeroom. Myrick reposed on the second level, which consisted of his living quarters. When he entered the store the looting was just getting underway. The braves were too intent upon their labors of removing anything of worth so the place could be burned to pay him any attention. Myrick was the largest trader at the agency, and even though most of his supplies were in the main storehouse there were still ample pickings within the store. In fact, there was so much plunder that no one had ventured upstairs yet. Everything of value was thought to be in the store downstairs.
Yellow Hair, seeing that there were no guns at hand, decided to look around upstairs, there might be an old piece under the bed. You never know.
At the top of the stairs there were two rooms. The one to his left faced the front and was obviously someone’s bedroom. The door was closed to the other room, which faced the rear of the store. He went into the first room without much hope of success, knelt down and looked under the bed. The only thing he saw was nice layer of dust. Rising, he dusted off his knees; he was wearing only a breech clout and moccasins. Then he went to the wardrobe, opened it and peered inside. No rifle, just a Sunday suit and a few shirts. On the floor were a pair of boots and a pair of black shoes that were obviously meant to be worn with the suit.
Mentally shrugging his shoulders, he turned his attention to the other room. When he tried to open the door, he found that it was locked. At that point he almost went downstairs. He was thinking that he had dallied too long. He should be out there with the looters looking for a rifle to claim, or at least a hand gun. As he was about to put his foot on the stair’s top riser a thought suggested itself in his mind. Why was that the only door locked in the entire store. As he came in the back way he saw that even the cellar door was wide open. If there had been anything of value it would most certainly be in the cellar under lock and key.
So once again, why was the door locked? He retraced his steps and stood before the door and thought for a moment. “What would be the best way to affect ingress? Then he went back the same way he had just come and bounded down the stairs two at a time. When he reached the bottom he saw Wićasta Ta’wa (His People) with a sack of flower over his left shoulder, headed for the door. “Wićasta Ta’wa where is your gun? May I use it for a minute?” Stopping at the door and turning to see who had spoken to him His People broke out in a big grin. “Some fun, huh Yellow Hair? I have enough food stacked outside to feed my mother and me for two moons maybe three!” His People was only nineteen winters old and this was his first war. The first day of one’s first war is always exhilarating, especially for the young. But once His People and the other young braves became seasoned campaigners, if they lived long enough, they too would come to know war for what it is. It is not about glory, it is not about country, not when in the thick of battle. When facing another man who wants to kill you, war becomes about one thing, and one thing only; it becomes about staying alive.
“Yes, Wićasta Ta’wa, it is some fun. But I need your gun for a minute, may I use it?” “Of course Yellow Hair it’s over there behind the counter. Do you know where there are some whites hiding? Are you going to kill them?” “I do not know. There may be people hiding upstairs, but I will need your gun to find out.” Well, if you need any help killing the whites call to me. I have a pistol I took from Myrick’s desk. It is on a shelf behind the counter with the rifle.” “Thank you, if you do not mind then I will take the pistol, it will be easier to use.” “Sure, now if you will excuse me, this flour is getting heavy.” And with those words, His People went through the door and down the steps to his waiting pile of plunder.
Yellow hair retrieved the pistol and went back up the stairs. Standing at the door he aimed the gun at the lock. But before he pulled the trigger he thought about what His People had said. There might be someone hiding in the room. He, or they, may have locked it from the inside. They would be scared and they may have a gun. And if he shot the lock off and pushed open the door it might be the last act of his life. So he knocked on the door and said in English, “If someone is in there please open the door, I will not harm you. It is me Yellow Hair. Everyone at the agency knew Yellow Hair and they all liked him. Well almost all, Galbraith and Myrick did not like him all that much. Galbraith because he was trying to get the Indians to adopt the ways of the White Man and here was a White Man going in the other direction and becoming a savage. Myrick did not like him because he hated all Indians. It did not matter to him if you were born that way or became one by choice. His distain for Indians was the main reason he was lying out back with his mouth full of grass.
When he received no reply, he said to the closed door, “Here goes, please don’t shoot me.” He re-aimed the gun and shot at the lock. The wood around it splintered and what was left of the lock would never again impede someone’s ingress.
He pushed the door open and jumped back. There was no loud report of a gun. He gingerly looked around the door jam and saw that the room was empty. Empty that is except for the three large crates sitting on the floor in the middle of the room.
Yellow hair entered the room and approached the crates. Speaking to himself he said, “What could possibly be in these things.” There were no markings on them and when he gave one the crates a shove, it did not move. Whatever was inside was heavy. A second time he spoke to himself aloud, “Well, Jacob Yellow Hair there is only one way to find out.” He then drew his knife and was about to pry open one of the lids when His People and Tate Mima (Round Wind) burst into the room. Breathlessly His People asked, “We heard the shot Yellow Hair, are you all right?” “As you can see I am alone and unharmed. Here, take your gun and thank you.”
When the two braves had caught their breath and calm down, Round Wind was also very young; they noticed the crates for the first time. “What is in the boxes Yellow Hair?” asked Round Wind. “”I do not know, but I was about to find out when you two came to my rescue.”
Without further folderol Yellow Hair opened the center crate. What he beheld astounded him and his two companions. There in front of him, filled to the brim, stood a crate filled with rifles, brand new, spanking clean, rifles. The oil glistened on the barrels; the smell was intoxicating and the sight overwhelming. Without saying a word he opened the other two cases. One held more rifles as the first, and the other was filled with cartridges. He assume they would fit the rifles but wanted to make sure. So he extracted a rifle and a box of cartridges. They were a perfect match.
His People looked at the prize and said, “I bet there is not a bent barrel in the whole lot.” Then he looked down at the rifle he held in his hand and made a face before hurling it to the ground. He then took one of the rifles and a box of ammunition while saying, “Thank you Yellow Hair.” And then jokingly added, “I always knew that for a Wasichu you were not half bad.” His companion, Round Wind, who was not holding a rifle to throw down, bent barrel or other wise, helped himself to a gun and a box of bullets. And then said after the deed was done, “I know you found these Yellow Hair, but you don’t mind if we take one for ourselves?” “No, you are welcome to them, but I ask a favor in return. Actually two favors. We will need these guns to fight the soldiers so do not tell others of them. And please go and find Little Crow and bring him here.” The two were so pleased with their new rifles they would have offered to carry Little Crow to Yellow Hair if he had asked them. Instead, they said they would be right back with the chief.
When Little Crow climbed the stairs and walked into the room and saw what Yellow Hair had found, a broad simile played across his face. “Well done Yellow Hair, these guns and the ammunition will come in handy.” Yellow Hair, with no smile upon his face responded, “They will be put to use sooner than you think. We will need them when the solders from the fort and we meet at the ferry. I must go and round up enough braves for the battle and I would like them all to be armed with guns. An arrow is good enough for a deer or a the buffalo, but I do not think the soldiers are going to let us get too close to them. And unlike the deer and the buffalo they will shoot back at us.”
Getting serious, Little Crow asked, “What do you need Yellow Hair?” “Can you round me up a wagon so we can put the crates in it? Then I will take the wagon and the guns and get the men we will need.”
Of course, Yellow Hair got his wagon. And Round Wind and His People helped load it. It was good they were there. The crates were heavy and it took the strength of the young braves to get them down the stairs and into the wagon. Yellow Hair thank them for their help, tied his pony to the rear of the wagon and headed west in search of braves. Most braves had left the agency after it was looted and burned. Those with booty were either in their villages or on the way. Those without plunder took to the countryside in search of farms where they could kill more whites and get some booty for themselves.
As Yellow Hair was climbing into the wagon Little Crow had said, “I will send braves to meet you at the river, and you tell those that are roaming from farm to farm that first the soldiers must be stopped then they can rid the valley of the farmers. Tell them that those are the words of Little Crow their chief.” After the two horses had pulled the wagon about twenty yards, Yellow Hair turned his head to look at the retreating figure of Little Crow who waved at him with the new rifle he held in his right hand.
While traveling west on the main road, Yellow Hair came across burned out farms and dead bodies lying in front of them. There were also bodies strewn along the road itself. Just as he was about to give up hope of finding any men he happened upon a war party of about seventy-five braves who had surrounded a wagon of settlers. As he drove up to the assemblage he heard the leader Hoḧpa (Hawk) say, “We are going to kill you all.”
It was then that Yellow Hair saw Helen Carrothers who was a very good friend of Looking Elk the medicine man that had prepared him for his Vision Quest. She spoke the Dakota language and had studied under Looking Elk. She knew of the healing powers of barks and wildflowers and roots and herbs. Yellow Hair knew that if She was killed that Looking Elk would mourn for her as though she was his own daughter.
Before he knew what was happening, the men of the war party started shooting the settlers. He jumped from the wagon and went to Mrs. Carrothers and told her to follow him. She hesitated and said, “My children!” Yellow Hair then saw the two young ones clinging to her dress. “Go jump in that ditch over there. I will bring the children.”
Once he had the three of them safely out of sight he stood to see what the braves were about. The sight sickened him. He had been on many war parties, but he had never seen a Dakota act in such a brutal fashion. These were young braves who have never been on the war path before. They were raised on stories of bravery. It takes not a brave man to smash a baby’s head against a wagon.
He also saw cowardice on the part of the whites. One man who Yellow Hair later learned was name Henderson whose wife was sick and laying on a mattress in the wagon ran off and left her to her own fate. And there was a man named Earle whose seven-year old daughter was clutching him tightly and begging him to take her away who withdrew her grasp and ran off leaving her and her mother to the mercies of the Indians. But on that day, at that locale, there was no mercy to be had. And while running from the Indians he passed a son of his, and without slowing down told the boy to stop and face the Indians with his gun that held only pebbles. The boy did as he was told. He slowed the Indians just enough to allow his father to escape and to lose his life. The father lived to tell the shameful tale.
Yellow Hair knew he could not save the whites; the Indians were in a blood lust. But he was going to save Helen Carrothers and her children for Looking Elk if it meant he would have to die in their stead.
When the carnage was over the Indians went to the ditch where Mrs. Carrothers and her children were lying. She was shielding her children with her body and Yellow Hair stood over them. Hawk, the leader spoke, “Yellow Hair, you know all the Wasichu must die. Stand aside. If it bothers you to watch, leave us. We know what we have to do.”
“Yes, I know what you have to do. You have to come with me. You are needed to fight the soldiers that are coming. Can you stop killing women and children long enough to fight men? Men who will fight back and not run away as these farmers have done?” When he had finished speaking he looked Hawk dead in the eyes and then continued, “This woman is a friend of Looking Elk. He does not want her or her children harmed. Are you, Hawk, going to go against the medicine man of our band? And if you think you might, then think again because you will have to kill me to get to her.”
Hawk wavered for a moment and then to save face said, “Where are these soldiers? We will fight them. And you may take the White Woman, I respect Looking Elk. If he wants the woman then he may have her as my gift. You may take her to him.”
Yellow Hair reached out his hand to Mrs. Carrothers and helped her up. Then he said to Hawk, “I will go with you. Little Crow has told me to bring you and your men to the river. It is there that we will meet the soldiers in battle. But first send two men with the woman and her children to make sure they make it to our village and Looking Elk.
Hawk had about seventy-five men with him and some did not have guns. And none of them had ponies. If they were to reach the river before the soldiers they would have to leave right away. Yellow Hair told Hawk to drive the wagon while he dispersed guns to the braves who did not have one. When he saw that each man had a gun, he passed out the ammunition, telling those with the older guns to make sure they were the right kind of bullets for their guns.
When he had finished he climbed up front and sat on the seat next to Hawk. And in silence and with seventy-five men walking behind them they rode east to met, in battle, the men of the United States Army.
Meanwhile, as Yellow Hair traveled east, Captain Marsh and Company C marched west. Along the way they met settlers who had been driven from their homes. They told him of passing burnt out farmhouses with the dead lying about. Soon they were seeing the dead for themselves.
The column slowed as the neared a still smoldering farmhouse. When they reached the homestead, they saw the body of Dr. Humphrey lying by what used to be the front door; the house had been burned to the ground. Dr. Humphrey was the well liked physician for the agency. Because he had made many trips to the fort to assist Dr. Müller, its own doctor; the soldiers knew him well.
As they paused to take in the scene, Humphrey’s twelve-year-old soon rushed from the bushes where he had been hiding and he told Marsh of having witnessed the murder of his family.
The boy told of the attack on the agency. How when it started his father bundled the family, his mother, his two sisters and himself, into a wagon and made a run for the safety of the fort. “We got only as far as this house when my mother couldn’t go any further. You see she just had a baby and was feeling poorly. The house was empty, so we went inside to rest. Then my father sent me to find some water for my mother. As I was bringing the water back I heard a shot, so I started running toward the house. When I got within sight of it I saw my father lying on the ground surrounded by Indians and there were other Indians coming and going in and out of the house. Then all the Indians came outside and closed the door. One of them put the handle of a hoe through the loop so the door could not be opened. Then they set fire to the house. As the fire took hold, the Indians stood quietly watching the flames grow. Then from inside the house I heard my mother scream and then I heard my sister crying out for our father. When the Indians heard my mother and sister cry out they started whooping and dancing about. Just about then the glass in a window broke and my sister tried to crawl out, but a brave shot an arrow at her driving her back into the house. As the fire grew in intensity, the screams grew louder until all of a sudden there was quite. By then the house was completely on fire, even the roof was burning. That’s when the Indians left. As soon as they were gone I ran to my father. His vest was covered in blood, I think he was shot and his throat had been cut. I tried to get to the door so I could get it open and let my mother and sisters out, but the flames were too hot. I couldn’t get close. I went to the window my sister tried to climb out of and called to her, then I called to my mother. I couldn’t see inside because of the smoke. Then the windows started to explode and black smoke was poring through them. I heard someone coming and ran back to the trees. It was a small band of Indians who watched the fire for a few moments before moving on. Then, I don’t know how much later, you came along.”
After hearing his story, Marsh told the boy to go to the fort where there were people who would look after him. He then got upon his mule and commenced his march to the agency.
Before long they came across the Reverend Hinman, a missionary at the lower agency. He was making his way to the fort and he witnessed what had happened at the agency that morning. He tried to warn Marsh that he was greatly out numbered and that if he went as far as the Redwood Ferry he would meet his match and then some.
“I thank you kindly for your heartfelt warning preacher, but this is army business. We will proceed. This is just the work of a few malcontents. We’ll have them rounded up by supper time. And if they have retreated back to their villages the chiefs will hand them over. You continue on to the fort, you’ll be safe there.” And with that Captain Marsh hurried on to his death.
While The Reverend Hinman was being patronized by Captain Marsh, Yellow Hair and Hawk, along with the seventy-five braves were making their way to the Redwood Ferry. They kept the silence between them until they saw a man on the road coming toward them. “It is Skoon Ka Ska” (White Dog), said Hawk. “He is a cut hair, we will kill him.” Yellow Hair looked over at Hawk and said, “You like to kill unarmed men don’t you?” “He worked with the whites. He is a traitor. He and all cut hairs will die armed or not!” “Well, this one won’t. We have need of him. I will explain when we reach the river.”
When they came abreast of White Dog, Yellow Hair told him to climb in the back of the wagon. White Dog looked both ways, up and down the road and saw that he was quite alone. He had heard the shouts of “Kill the whites.” He had also heard some call for the death of all the cut hairs and mixed bloods. That was why he was on the road going away from the agency.
“No thank you. I am going in the opposite direction,” said White Dog. “You better do what he says,” interjected Hawk, “because if it was up to me I would kill you where you stand.”
Yellow Hair smiled at White Dog and told him that if he would come with them no harm would befall him. Nodding his head to Yellow Hair and without looking at Hawk, White Dog climbed into the wagon.
Once underway, Hawk looked over to Yellow Hair and thought long and hard before saying, “When I was a boy my father told me about Yellow Hair. How he was the first to ride into battle, shouting “Hoka hey and Blihéic iya po (Come on charge and Take courage respectively). I was told that he could have had more coup feathers that anyone, but that he never called coup. And that he would knock the enemy to the ground but would not kill him. He always left that for someone else to do. And at the Kill Dance he would give witness to the others’ coups, but would allow no one to give witness to his. So, I know you are a great warrior and that you are brave, but might I ask why do you not kill? Especially those that want to kill you.”
Not looking at Hawk, but at the road ahead, Yellow Hair tried to answer Hawk’s question. “I don’t think you will understand, but I will tell you why I do not kill. And by the way, I did not see anyone trying to kill me this morning, certainly not those women and scared farmers.” “They would have killed you with their presence. They have driven off the game and the buffalo that we needed to live. They have taken our valley, our rivers and our lakes and put us on a small strip of land. They have made us dependant on them for the food we need to live. They do not pay us for our land but give the gold to the traders. They …” “Hold on young Hawk. All that you say is true. And if driving out a few farmers would get us our lands and our dignity back I would be all for it. Though we would not have to kill them, we could round them up and take them to the boarder of our land and tell them that if they returned they and their families would be killed. If we could do that I would be the first to join the rounding up parties. But that is silly talk. The talk of children. If we killed them or expelled them, the Americans would send vast armies to our lands and retake every square inch at the point of a gun. You are young and I admire your spirit, but the Wasichus are here to stay. But you asked me why I do not kill, and this is the reason why. Because Wakan Tan’ka is within all. White Buffalo Woman has told us so. I know it is the Dakota way to kill our enemies. And I have killed many when it meant my life or theirs. But that does not mean I must rejoice in the killing by calling coup. Now let us not talk until we reach the river, I have some thinking to do.” And once again they rode on in silence. White Dog had listened to the conversation and said a silent prayer of thanks to Wakan Tan’ka for Yellow Hair’s beliefs.
When they reached the river, over one hundred braves were waiting for them. Hinhan duta (Red Owl) seemed to be in charge and walked over to Yellow Hair. “Little Crow sent us to meet you. He said we were going to stop the soldiers from crossing the river and coming into our villages.” Before answering Yellow Hair looked at the men seated in small groups talking among themselves, they were all painted for war. “Tell your men to come over here to this wagon I have guns and bullets. Every man should have a gun and a pouch full of bullets. Then I will tell you what I have in mind. But first, have you heard from the scouts?” “No, we just got here a little while ago.” “Well, it does not matter, they will report long before the soldiers arrive.”
After Yellow Hair had given out the remaining guns and ammunition, he told Hawk, Red Owl, and White Dog to come with him down by the river. “The first thing we have to do is secure the ferry on the other side of the river,” said Yellow Hair. “And the body of the ferry operator has to be hidden.” The man who ran the ferry had stayed to shepherd those fleeing the agency that morning across the river. After the last crossing he went back to see if there were any stragglers. There were not, but there were five braves who descended on the man, killing and mutilating him.
Yellow Hair looked across the river and that back to where the braves were and informed Hawk and Red Owl of his plans. “My plan is simple. The soldiers will be coming to see what has happened at the agency and they will have to cross the river at this point. So we will have the ferry on that side of the river waiting for them. When they do not see the operator they will think he ran off like everyone else. We will be hiding behind that bluff over there. It will give us the high ground. When they cross the river and assemble on this side we will start shooting at them.”
“You are right Yellow Hair that is a simple plan, so why do we need White Dog, asked Hawk. Yellow Hair answered, “We need him because he will be the one to tell the soldiers that it is safe to cross over. Because he is a cut hair they will trust him.” Then to White Dog, “I want you to call to the soldiers and tell them that we are at the agency and want to parley. Once the soldiers are on this side of the river you may leave.”
As he was speaking to White Dog, Yellow Hair noticed two braves on the other side of the river. “I think those are our scouts. Hawk, you have some men get the ferry over to the other side and hide the operator’s body. Red Owl, hide your ponies in the brush and make sure that they cannot be seen. Then get all the men out of sight behind the bluff. White Dog you get up to the buff and wait for me. I will talk to the scouts.”
By the time Yellow Hair had told the others what to do, the scouts had crossed the river. They approached Yellow Hair and one of them said, “Little Crow told us to report to you.” “Yes, we have been waiting for you. What of the soldiers?” “They will be here soon. They are less than fifty, are all on foot except Marsh and Quinn and they have one wagon.” “Thank you, we will wait for them behind that bluff where you see White Dog standing. Go over there and tell the others what you have told me.
Yellow Hair was sorry to hear that Captain Marsh was leading the soldiers. He had always been fair with the Dakota and he disbursed the food when they were hungry. Yellow Hair hoped that he would not have to kill him.
Everything was made ready and there was nothing else to do but await the soldiers’ arrival. The waiting seemed long because no noise could be made. The men were anxious to go into battle against the soldiers. They were mostly young and had never fired a gun at another man before that morning. What happened at the agency and the farms was not war, but slaughter. However, with trained soldiers firing at you it could be called nothing else but war.
Yellow Hair spent the time walking amongst the men, talking with them to put them at ease. Then he told White Dog where he wanted him to stand and what he was to say to Marsh. He wanted the soldiers to see White Dog as soon as they crested the last hill. That way they would be less likely to suspect a trap. Also he, White Dog, would act as lookout and inform them when he saw the soldiers. When there was nothing left to do but wait, he sat down next to Hawk and did some thinking. “This will not be like riding into a village and knocking a man to the ground. This will be pointing a gun at another man from far away and killing him. A man that woke up this morning with thoughts of his wife or his sweetheart in his head, not with thoughts that today he was going to die.”
After what seemed an eternity, White dog called down, “I see their blue coats they are coming!” There was a cessation of all talk, mouths became dry and men looked to the man next to them to see if they were a nervous as they were.
When Marsh and his men were close enough to hear him, White Dog shouted, “Everything is right over here. We do not want to fight and we will hold council.” Marsh responded, “What was the trouble?” “There was some trouble with the traders, but you can settle our differences. The Dakota are at the agency waiting for you. I will go and tell them you are coming.” Then he waved to Marsh and descended to the far side of the bluff where Yellow Hair told him that he had done well and was free to leave.
Now when Marsh heard what White Dog had to say, he thought to himself that he had been right all along. The uprising was the work of a few drunken Indians, and now that they were sober they sat at the agency in fear at what he might do. To Quinn, he said, “Think I’ll let them stew in their own juices for a spell.” And then to his sergeant, a man named Bishop, he said, “Tell the men to relax for a bit. We’ll move out in an hour.”
Over on the other side of the river when the soldiers were observed sitting down instead of boarding the ferry, Hawk said to Yellow Hair, “I do not think your plan is working out.” And Yellow Hair replied, “I do not think so either, but I have another plan.” “So do I. I say we attack the sons of dogs.” “That is my plan also.”
Yellow Hair told Hawk that they would go upstream, to the northwest, cross the river and work their way behind the soldiers. Then they, the soldiers, would be between them and the river with no place to run and then they would put Hawk’s plan into effect and attack the sons of dogs, which is what they did.
The Dakota, keeping low, went a half mile upriver and crossed to the northern bank. Then quietly they started to deploy to Marsh’s rear. Before leaving the river, Yellow Hair told Red Owl to keep about twenty braves with him where they were and then make their way southeast along the bank. This was to cut off an avenue of escape. It was Yellow Hair’s aim to surround the soldiers on three sides with the river to their backs. But it did not quite work out that way.

Private Rollins is thirsty, so he unhitches his canteen from his belt to take a drink. However, as soon as he holds it in his hand he knows that it is empty. “Oh, damn! I forgot to fill it before we left the fort,” are his thoughts at the moment. However, being a resourceful chap, he stands and walks to the river to fill his need for a drink and to fill his canteen.
While he waits for the canteen to fill, he notices leaves and twigs floating by. And there are not just a few leaves and twigs; there is an abundance of such. After he has quenched his thirst and his canteen is back on his hip, he can ponder the mystery of the leaves and twigs at leisure. What he comes up disturbs him greatly. So he cast a cautious eye to the far bank of the river. After a moment he sees something that disturbs him even more than the leaves and twigs. They are hard to see at first, but if you look closely enough you can see horses in the thicket just back from the river, the one over by that bluff.
Private Rollins does not bother going to his sergeant, he does not think there is time, he goes directly to his captain. “Captain Marsh I think we are being surrounded by Indians crossing the river above us, right at this very moment.” “Hold on son, what makes you think so?” “Well there are Indian ponies hidden in that thicket over there across the river. And just now when I was down at the river a whole mess of debris went by. Like when we cross a river.” “Show me where the ponies are.”
Yellow Hair is watching the interplay between Marsh and Rollins and when they walk to the river and Rollins points to where the ponies are hidden he knows the time to strike is now. It is too bad, he has not gotten his men to the south as of yet. But the soldiers are cut off on three sides. It will have to do. If they wait any longer the soldiers might make for the ferry and get across.
By now some soldiers are standing, trying to see what Rollins is pointing at and they are the first to go down when Yellow Hair gives the order to fire.
Seeing that the fire was coming from the east and the north, Marsh orders his men to run for the bushes and trees to the south. He does not have to tell them twice.
For the next three hours the soldiers make there way southeast, always keeping within the cover of the trees. And all the time the Indians are taking pot shots at them. Their number is diminished by half by the time they run out of cover. The woods end and there is only open ground before them.
They are low on ammunition for they have been firing at the Indians as they went. If they do not take some sort of decisive action the Indians will rush them when their bullets run out. Captain Marsh calls Sergeant Bishop to his side. “Our only avenue of escape is the river. We must make it to the other side; we can wade across. I will go first. And when I reach the bank, start sending men across, four at a time. I’ll cover them from that side and you and the others cover them from here; you come over with the last group.”
He takes off his sword and removes his pistol from its holster and holding both over his head wades into the river. All is going well. No one is shooting at him as he nears midstream. Then one moment he was there and the next he wasn’t. Then his head comes to the surface, he has dropped the sword and pistol and he seems to be struggling to stay afloat. He sinks again, but resurfaces a moment later. Sergeant Bishop tells two men to get out there and save the captain. But before they can reach him, he goes down for the third time and last time and is lost from sight.
The death of their captain, to say the least, demoralizes the men even more so than they were a moment ago. Sergeant Bishop tells them that their only hope is to wait until dark and then try to get back to the fort under the cover of darkness. He adds, “The Indians don’t know we’re low on ammunition, so conserve your fire. Fire only if an Indian is coming in here and then fire only if you’re sure of hitting him.”
From a small hill overlooking the river Yellow Hair watched Marsh wade into the water. It would have been easy to shoot and kill him at that point, but Yellow Hair told the braves to hold their fire. He did it for two reasons. One, he wanted Marsh to live, and two, if they fired on Marsh then no one else would attempt the crossing. Once the soldiers are waist deep they will be easy to pick off. It will be like an old fashion turkey shoot.
When he saw Marsh go under for the third time, he felt sadness for a man who had treated the Dakota with dignity and respect.
By now it is late afternoon and darkness is about two hours away. The Indians keep the soldiers pinned down and continue to whittle away at there numbers. When darkness finally arrives, Yellow Hair tells the braves that they had done all they could for that day. Better to return to their villages and rest for the next day’s battle, which he was sure would be an attack on Fort Ridgely.
One note of interest: at noon of that day, about the time Captain Marsh and his men reached the river at Redwood Ferry, a stagecoach pulled into Fort Ridgely. A Cyrus G. Wyckoff disembarked. Cyrus G. Wyckoff was a clerk for Clark W. Thompson, superintendent of Indian affairs in St. Paul and he informed the soldier in charge, it was not Lt. Gere because he was down with a case of the mumps, that he had the annuity payment for the Sioux. In the coach was $71,000 in gold, the same $71,000 that was the cause of the uprising in the first place. If it had arrived twenty-four hours earlier there would not have been an uprising.
Throughout the afternoon of that Monday refugees continued to arrive at the fort. By sundown their ranks had swelled to over two hundred. And then a few hours after sundown the first of Captain Marsh’s decimated command began to arrive. Of the forty-six men that left with Captain Marsh, fourteen made it back healthy and in one piece, and another eight came back with wounds of various degrees.
Also, while Yellow Hair and his men had Captain Marsh and his men at a disadvantage, Red Middle Voice and Shakopee and their men roamed the countryside killing as many whites as they could.
Not all the Dakota were at war with the Americans. Many saved the lives of white friends. One such man was named Chaska (Little First Born) and one such person that he saved was a Mrs. John Wakefield. Chaska is singled out for mention because of what happened after the uprising was put down. First, what he did for Mrs. Wakefield.
It is late in the afternoon of that first day when word of the uprising finally reaches the Upper Agency. Most at that time refuse to believe that the docile Indians they have known for years could do anything of the sort. However, Dr. John Wakefield is not about to take a chance with the lives of his wife and his two children.
Not wanting to alarm her, he tells his wife that as long as she was going to visit with her sister anyway, she should not wait for the stage, but make her way to Fort Ridgley today. “I’ve arranged for George Gleason to take you and the children to the fort.” “John, tell me what’s wrong. Why are you sending us away?” “It’s just that I’ve got a lot of work to do and it will be a little easier to get done if things are quiet around here.” Sara Wakefield knows that is not the truth, but obeys her husband and leaves with Mr. Gleason.
On the way out of the agency a shopkeeper informs them of the killings at the Lower Agency. “Take me right back home Mr. Gleason.” “Now ma’am, that is just foolish talk that shopkeeper was talkin’. We both know that the Indians in this part of the country are a peaceful lot. So don’t worry your head none. “I’ll git you and the youngins to the fort. Now please don’t fret.”
Later, while traveling on the road to the fort they come across two Indians walking towards them. The Indians are Chaska and a man by the name of Hapa (Skin). Gleason pulls up the wagon to ask if they had heard anything about trouble down at the Lower Agency.
The Indians say that no, they had heard nothing. So, Gleason bids them fair well and moves the horses along. Still feeling apprehensive, Mrs. Wakefield turns to look at the Indians. That is when she see Hapa raise his gun a shoot Gleason, who promptly falls out of the wagon. As he lies on the ground shouting out in pain, the pair of Indians walk back to the wagon and stand over him while Hapa reloads his gun. Another shot and poor Mr. Gleason is no more. After reloading for a second time, he takes aim at Mrs. Wakefield. However, as he pulls the trigger, Chaska grabs his arm, pushing it skyward and the bullet sails harmlessly over her head. “The Wakefield’s are good people,” says Chaska, “they have treated all Dakota with kindness and respect.” Hapa is furious that he has wasted a bullet. “All whites must die,” says Hapa indignantly. “All whites are bad. Better be dead.” “You must kill me before you kill any of them.” ‘’Then the children I will kill, they will be trouble when we go to Red River.” “No, I am going to take care of them.” As Sara is driven away, she turns to see Mr. Gleason’s dog standing over his dead body.
And true to his word, for the next six weeks, he and his mother protected Sara and her two children. At times it was close. Some nights Sara and her children would have to hide in the woods when the killing frenzy came upon the braves. Sara witnessed many women being killed while in Chaska’s village. When Chaska was away, his mother made it her responsibility to protect and hide her. When Chaska was in the village there was no question of harming her. He was a much respected warrior.
We will return to Sara Wakefield and Chaska later in the narrative.
At the time Sara Wakefield arrived at Red River, the people at the Upper Agency were beginning to believe the reports that were coming in regarding the attack on the Lower Agency.
Little Crow had sent some men to the agency to try to enlist the help of the “Upper Sioux,” the Sisseton and the Wahpeton and when Little Crow’s emissaries had finally convinced the chiefs that the stories they were hearing were true, a council was called. On that day, visiting from the west were a group of Yanktonais and they were invited to the council. The Yanktonais did not live on a reserve, they lived as the Sioux had always lived; free as the wind. They were lucky so far, the migration of the Wasichus had not yet reached their lands.
The council was a repetition of the one held in Little Crow’s house the night before. Factions called for war, and factions called for peace. The Sisseton were for war and most of the Wahpeton were for peace. Little Crow’s men advocated war along with the Yanktonais. The Sisseton needed little encouragement, but the Wahpeton, who were mostly Christian, argued for peace.
John Other Day, a leader of the farmer Indians made the following speech:
“It will be easy to kill the farmers and their wives and their children. Most of the farmers do not even own guns. How brave you are against the unarmed and women and children, but what will you do when the soldiers come? I will tell you what you will do. Those with ponies will ride to the west. You Yanktonais, will you stay and fight one thousand, maybe two thousand armed and dangerous soldiers? Or will you go home to the plains were the soldiers cannot follow? And what about those who do not own ponies? What will become of them? Do you care? Or do you only want to kill whites and then run?”
In the end, those that wanted to go to war went to war and those that did not went back to their farms or their villages and hoped that when the soldiers came they could tell the peaceful Sioux from those that made war.
When it became apparent that many of the Upper Agency Sioux were going to war, John Other Day left and rode hard and fast for the agency. When there, he told his brothers to go house-to-house and bring all the whites to the brick storehouse. “Tell them that an attack is coming. Tell them that the war has come to Yellow Medicine.”
That night, as the whites huddled in the storehouse, John and his brothers kept watch outside for signs of the attack that was sure to come. However, it was a quiet night. There was nothing, and no one, stirring in the abandoned agency. All of its inhabitants were inside the storehouse.
Just before daybreak the attack came. Out of the darkness a group of braves surrounded the warehouse. John stayed outside and faced the attackers. He was much too respected for the braves to fire on him without a chief’s sanction. As time wore on John’s brothers lost their nerve and one by one faded into the darkness.
Then there was a shot off in the direction of the stores and loud whoops and cries of jubilation. The stores were being looted. For a moment the braves surrounding the warehouse held their ground. Then they looked at one another and the looks said, “We are missing our fair share of the booty.” And then they ran south to where the stores were located.
As soon as the Indians were gone John called into the storehouse for some men to come and hurry and get some wagons and horses. They were going to leave while the Indians were otherwise occupied. Counting John, there were sixty-two people who were hell-bent on putting miles between themselves and the agency. The women and children climbed into the wagons and the men walked along side.
As luck would have it Galbraith was in St. Paul that night, he had escorted a company of recruits, known as the Renville Rangers, to that city and they were on their way to fight for the Union. If Galbraith had been at the agency, the Indians probably would have attacked the warehouse first and left the stores for later. There was no one more hated than Galbraith. However, his wife was at the agency and John knew what would happen not only to her, but also to the rest of them if she was seen leaving in their company. For that reason as well as many others, John urged his charges to move with a bit of alacrity, if you please.
At first, there was discussion as where to go. Some argued for going to Fort Ridgely, but John told them that is where they would be expected to go and the Indians would be waiting for them along the road. He said the only safe place would be St. Paul because it was one hundred twenty miles from the conflict and there they could obtain supplies and find succor.
After five days and four nights, with very little food (their only source of food was what they found in abandoned farm houses along the way) they reached the safety of St. Paul. Sixty one whites were alive because of one Indian.
In his official report Galbraith wrote:
“This Other Day is a pure full-blooded Indian, and was not long since one of the wildest and fiercest of his race … noble fellow. Must he too be ostracized for the sins of his nation? I command him … to a just God and a liberal government …”
Yes, John Other Day saved the life of Galbraith’s wife. Did Galbraith appreciate the irony of an Indian saving the life of his loved one when he had let so many Indians’ loved ones suffer starvation when he had a storehouse of food at his disposal? However, we are getting ahead of our story.
As Tuesday morning the 19th dawned, word of the uprising had made its way to St. Paul. At nearby Fort Snelling the two hundred twenty five men of the Sixth Minnesota Infantry were under the control of Governor Ramsey and he promptly put Henry Sibley in charge of them and conferred upon him the rank of colonel. He, Sibley, would also command the volunteer force Ramsey would organize. He was expected to go to Fort Ridgely “with the utmost promptitude.” This he did not do.
The evening before Sibley accepted his commission of colonel, Little Crow, Big Eagle and Yellow Hair met in Little Crow’s house to discuss the plans for the next day’s campaign. Little Crow was the first to speak. “You did well today stopping the soldiers at the river.” “I,” said Yellow Hair “did very little. I never even fired my gun.” “Well, you were in charge, and they never made it to the agency or our village.” “I participated in stopping them from getting to the village because I have a family here, and after seeing the dead people, especially the women and children at the agency and on their march, the soldiers would have, I think, shot any Indian they saw regardless of age or sex.”
Next Big Eagle spoke. “Little Crow can you not keep the young braves in line, waging war on women and children is not the Dakota way.” “The one’s that are doing so are mostly Red Middle Voice’s and Shakopee’s braves. I have told them many times to capture the women and children, do not kill them. I told them we will need them as hostages when we sue for peace.” “Then why are there so many dead,” asked Yellow Hair. “Because they are young and know no better,” answered Little Crow. “But enough of that, tomorrow we attack the fort.”
Well, you and Big Eagle make the plans,” interposed Yellow Hair, “I am going to my lodge. I have a wife and son waiting for me. If you attack the fort I will fight. But you must first assure me that we will make war only on the soldiers. If you cannot control your braves I will stay in the village with the women.” He then said good night and left the house.
There was silence for a moment after Yellow Hair left. Then Big Eagle spoke, “He is right you know. When the whites see some of the things I have seen they will punish all the Dakota. I saw a white baby nailed to a tree on my way back to the village. And there were women without clothes on lying in the ditch not a mile from this house. I am almost ashamed to be a Dakota when I see things like that.”
In answer to what Big Eagle had said; Little Crow affirmed once again, “Tomorrow we fight the soldiers at the fort. We will ride out at dawn. You, my old friend, are not as young as you were, you better get some sleep.” “Before I take my old self off to my lodge, let me ask you, should we not have a council first?” “Yes, we will have a council, but I want to have it on the plain in front of the fort so the soldiers will have time to worry. My scouts tell me there are no more that thirty or forty soldiers in the whole fort. And I want all the wild, young ones to know that we will kill only soldiers and that the whites in the fort will be taken captive and not harmed.” With that assurance, Big Eagle took his leave, but stopped at the door, and with a smile he said, “You also are not as young as you were my friend.”
As the sun rose the next morning it looked down on Little Crow and two hundred of his warriors advancing on Fort Ridgely. Two miles short of the fort, they halted in the middle of the plain and held council.
Little Crow was the first to speak. Pointing to the fort he said, “There are forty soldiers over there. We are two hundred strong. But the scouts tell me there is a column of fifty soldiers on the march and they will reach the fort in two hours.” Little Crow was referring to Lieutenant Sheehan and his company returning to the fort. “So we must attack now. When the soldiers see how many we are the will drop their guns and run. Over there are big guns (cannons) that we can use against the soldiers that will come later. Over there we will find blankets, cattle and many ponies. There are bullets and there is powder and lead, enough to fight for a year. We …”
At this point he was interrupted by Mato tamaheća (Lean Bear) “Little Crow speaks the truth. There is much we want and need at yonder fort, but there is still much more at the settlement down river (New Ulm, populated by immigrants from Germany). For every pony at the fort there are ten down river. For every barrel of flour at the fort there will be fifty waiting for us at New Ulm. There are more women at that town and they will be younger and much better looking than the ones at the fort. And it will be easier to take than the fort; there are no soldiers there, just farmers with no guns. I have spoken.”
Next it was Mankato’s (Blue Earth) turn to speak. “We should listen to Little Crow, attack the fort first. The big guns, as he has said, will keep the soldiers out of our valley, and the fort has enough guns for all our braves. You will find no big guns and very few muskets at New Ulm.”
For the next few hours the same was said on both sides; those that thought the fort should be attacked first said their piece. And those that believed it would be in their best interest to attack New Ulm before they attacked the fort had their say.
Finally it was put to a vote.
Overwhelmingly, the vote was for an attack on New Ulm. It was a major defeat for Little Crow.
Some of those who had voted against an attack on New Ulm crossed the river and went north in search of farms to burn and pillage, not to mention white settlers to kill. They numbered about seventy-five. The remainder, all but three, headed for New Ulm with war whoops and much talk. The talk was of plunder and of new wives that were to be had at New Ulm. Of the one hundred twenty-two braves riding to New Ulm, not one was older than thirty winters.
The three that remained on the plain after all had departed, were Little Crow, Big Eagle and Yellow Hair. There was also one wagon and two horses. One horse was hitched to the wagon and on the other sat Big Eagle, who said, “What do we do now?” Yellow Hair, thinking that was a very good question, looked to Little Crow for an answer.
With a lowness of spirit, Little Crow answered, “Now we go back to the village.”
Big Eagle nodded and rode to northwest towards their village, Yellow Hair and Little Crow, without further words, climbed onto the wagon and also headed northwest.
While they rode, Yellow Hair thought. He thought about the war that Red Middle Voice and Shakopee had inveigled Little Crow into leading. “Now here we are on the second day of that war and Little Crow has no control over the braves. And where were Red Middle Voice and Shakopee this morning? They were probably off killing unarmed farmers and their families,” thought Yellow Hair.
Yellow Hair had no way of knowing it at the moment, but Little Crow was thinking along similar lines. So the two rode on in silence, both men lost in their own thoughts.
When they got back to the village, Yellow Hair jumped from the wagon as they passed his tepee. He was about to say something encouraging to Little Crow, but thought better of it when he saw the look on the man’s face. And besides, he himself did not feel very encouraged.
When he entered his lodge Suni asked him why he was back so soon. He told her about the young braves voting to attack New Ulm instead of the fort. And then quite un-expectantly he said, “This is not a war. This is madness. Yesterday I did what was asked of me. And I did it to protect our village, but now I see that people are dying for revenge. Some of the whites have been good to us. No Suni, I will not make war on the Wasichus any longer.”
Then Yellow Hair asked about Good Thunder. “Where is the boy?” “He is out with his friends looking at the captives that are being bought here. Did you not see the tepees that have been set up since last night? People from the other bands are coming here in great numbers.” “No I did not notice, but I had my mind on other matters as we rode through the village.” “And the braves are bringing their captives here as well. They think that when the soldiers attack it would be better to have them all in one place.”
Any woman or child taken prisoner was the personal property of the man who captured her. The braves took women to be their wives or to trade them for ponies or other things of value. Children were often killed right before their mothers. If a child was not killed, he or she would be brought up as a Dakota.
Yellow Hair was vexed. However, he knew one thing for certain; he was not going to fight unless the village was attacked. And this he told to Suni. “I believe you are right my husband, I have seen and spoken to the women the braves are bringing here. They tell me how they were forced to see their husbands and children killed. All I could think of was Good Thunder and how I would feel if someone killed him as I looked on.”
That night the braves came back to the village, many carried the scalps of whites and some brought women. These braves were the ones that went in search of farms. Those that went to New Ulm came back with nothing. The attack had failed. It had failed because there was no leadership. Every man was out for plunder; he was out for himself.
Those with the scalps asked Little Crow to call a Kill Dance so that they might be given the feather of the eagle for their bravery. However, Little Crow, Wabasha and the other chiefs and elders told the young braves that they would receive no eagle feathers. They told them that killing farmers and women and children was cowardly. In fact they were worthy of nothing but scorn and contempt.
That night Little Crow addressed the braves as they stood in the middle of the village. “You ought not kill women and children. Your consciences will reproach you for it and make you weak in battle. You were too hasty in going into the country. You should have killed only those who have been robbing us so long. Hereafter, make war after the manner of the White Man. We will hold a council tonight to see what path this war will take. Take your scalps and your captives to your lodges. We will meet outside my house when it is dark and moon is in the sky. Now go, I have spoken.”
Because of the failure to take New Ulm the younger braves were more receptive to Little Crow’s war plans and at the council that night it was decided that the fort would be attacked the next day.
The next morning Little Crow set out with four hundred braves to assault the fort. Yellow Hair stayed in the village with the women. However, by then the fort had one hundred eighty defenders and the Dakota were repulsed, mainly because of the big guns. Little Crow went back the next day with eight hundred warriors only to fail once again.
The next day after the second attack on Fort Ridgely, New Ulm was attacked again, but to no avail.
On 26 August two things of significance took place. First, Henry Sibley, or I should say Colonel Sibley, who had not engaged the Indians in a single battle amassed a fighting force of fourteen hundred men. His headquarters were at Fort Ridgley. The Indians knew almost to the man how many men Sibley had under his command.
It was also on 26 August that Little Crow thought it prudent to move his village to Yellow Medicine. He did this for two reasons. He wanted to put some distance between his people and Sibley and he hoped to enlist the Upper Sioux, the majority who had opted for peace, in his fight against the Wasichus.
The Mdewakanton and Wahpekute struck their tepees and they loaded into wagons and upon the backs of the women their belongings. They gathered their horses, cattle and oxen and headed north. It was a sorrowful procession consisting of men, women and children and two hundred and fifty white captives. The women walked and the men rode ponies or rode in wagons. Among the captives were Sara Wakefield and her two children.
The next day they reached Yellow Medicine. The stores and houses had not been burned as they had been at the Lower Agency. In fact, they found farmer Indians living in the houses. They were there to protect the property of their white friends.
Little Crow promptly told them they would have to leave because the buildings were to be burned. And they were, as soon as they were vacated. Little Crow then sent his braves to speak with the Sisseton and Wahpeton and ask them to join the fight.
His men rode into the camp of the “friendlies,” and told them that if they did not join the fight then they too would be killed. Of course, this did not sit well with the men who had been threatened. After Little Crow’s braves had left, word was sent out to the other camps of the Upper Sioux to meet, and to come prepared for war. They were not going to war against the whites, but with their brothers the Lower Sioux.
They rode into the “hostiles” camp, three hundred strong and painted for war. They jumped from their ponies and formed a line, across from this line stood Little Crow and his braves. Their leader Paul Mazakutemani, a farmer Indian, spoke to Little Crow and his men:
“The Mdewakanton have made war upon white people and have now fled up here. I have asked them why they did this, but I do not yet understand it. I have asked them to do me a favor, but they have refused. Now I will ask again in your hearing. Mdewakanton, why have you made war on the white people? The Americans have given us money, food, clothing, plows, powder, tobacco, guns, knives and all things by which we may live well; and they have nourished us even like a father his children. Why then have you made war upon them?
“You did not tell me you were going to fight with the white people; how then shall I approve it? No, I will go over to the white people. If they wish it they may kill me. If they don’t wish to kill me, I shall live. So all of you who don’t want to fight with the white people come over to me. I have now three hundred men. We are going over to the white people. Deliver up to me your captives … and come with me.”
When Paul had finished speaking, one of Little Crow’s men stepped over the line and stood behind him. Then another come over bringing with him two women captives. All and all, only a few went over to the friendlies side, but it was enough to dishearten Little Crow. However, he did not want his men to know what was running through his mind. He knew from the beginning there was no way to win, but he held out hope that they could fight long enough to get the whites offer a new treaty, one that would be more favorable to the Dakota.
He was their leader and he must not let his men know of his thoughts. So, he boldly spoke to the men facing him across the camp. “We will not give up the fight. We will wage war until this valley is once again ours. It is our birthright. Now you and the traitors who have deserted their brothers go.”
It was not a big victory, but it was a start. Paul and the friendlies knew that if they were to be spared being thought of as hostiles, they would have to secure the release of the captives and turn them over to the whites. Then and only then could they avoid being tarred with the same brush as Little Crow and his men.
After the confrontation with the Upper Agency Indians, Little Crow called a council, and at the council it was decided that Little Crow would take one hundred men and go north and raid two settlements, Hutchinson and Forrest City. And Big Eagle would go south with two hundred men to New Ulm, which had been abandoned for fear of a massive Indian attack. They would go to claim the spoils of war. They intended to strip the town clean and then burn it. In anticipation of all the booty they were to bringing back, many wagons were brought along. The only thing is that Big Eagle and his men never made it to New Ulm. Instead they handed the enemy their heaviest military casualties of the war at a place called Birch Coulee.
On his way out of camp, Big Eagle sees Yellow hair talking to a woman captive and turns his horse in that direction. When he reaches Yellow Hair, he says, “Come with us, we are not going to fight, we go to bring back much needed supplies from New Ulm.”
Without addressing what Big Eagle has just said, he introduces the woman to Big Eagle, “This is Sara Wakefield, Chaska and his mother have been protecting her from some of the more troublesome braves. You know the ones that I mean, the ones that are drunk every night.”
Nodding to Mrs. Wakefield, Big Eagle tells Yellow Hair that he must speak with him. Before walking away with Big Eagle, he tells Sara that if Chaska or his mother is not around and she needs anything, send word to his lodge and either he or his wife, Fighting Woman, will come.
“Now, what can I do for you my friend?” “You must come with me. You cannot stay here with the women,” exhorted Big Eagle. “I can do anything I want. I think we will all be dead within a week. Sibley is bound to come after us sooner or later. And with the number of men he has, and the feelings those men will have towards us after they have seen the dead farmers and their wives and their children, we will not stand a chance.”
“Ride with me. If what you say is true than this may be the last time we have to speak. We will be back in two sleeps. And besides the pony I gave you is getting on in years, he needs a little exercise.”
“Alright, I will go and tell Suni I am going with you. Go with the rest, I will catch up with you.
At the fort the relatives of the dead wanted their people buried. It had been two weeks. So they went to Sibley and asked that a party be sent out to bury the dead.
After being advised that the area was free of Indians, he sent out a burial detail accompanied by a military escort. They totaled one hundred and sixty men. A few of the relatives were allowed to go. Nathan Myrick, the brother of Andrew Myrick, was one of them.
The patrol went to the Lower Agency first where Nathan Myrick buried his brother and then returned to the fort. The detail buried thirty bodies at the agency and then headed west where they found another fifty bodies that needed burying. Along the way the found entire families lying dead in and around there homesteads. Then they came to the river crossing where Captain Marsh and his men were ambushed. There were thirty-three dead soldiers at that ferry crossing. All the bodies had been stripped and scalped. By nightfall they had buried approximately one hundred and sixty-six bodies.
They only had rations for two days, so it was decided that they would camp over night and take a different route back the next day looking for more bodies.
The closest locale with water was a place called Birch Coulee and that is where they set up camp for the night.
Riding Catcher of the Wind hard, Yellow Hair caught up with Big Eagle and his braves an hour after they had left camp.
Turning to see Yellow Hair’s approach, Big Eagle left the column and rode back to meet him. “I did not think you were going to come.” “I was worried about Suni and Good Thunder. But you know her, eleven winters of motherhood has not mellowed her at all. She told me that now that Good Thunder is grown she should go on a few raiding parties. When I started to object she started laughing and told me she was only funning me. That is some daughter you’ve got there Big Eagle.” “Hey, she is not my daughter any longer, she is your wife. I had to put up with her foolishness for eighteen winters. You have had her for only twelve winters. Come and tell me of your sorrow in another six winters.” Then both men laughed and rode to the head of the column.
Yellow Hair is exhilarated to be out riding his pony in the warm sun. He doesn’t much care where they are going, but just to have something to say he asks his father-in-law, Big Eagle, “So what is the plan?” “The plan my friend is to get food. Little Crow has three thousand people depending on him. He is worried about the war; he is worried about feeding his people. He is worried about the captives; he told me he would like nothing better than to turn them over to the Sisseton and Wahpeton, but he knows the young braves would never stand for it.”
“So we are gong to New Ulm to get food?” “Yes, but first we will go to the agency to see if any stores are left. It is on the way. The scouts are down there now making sure it is safe to go there. If not, we will circle around and go straight to New Ulm. Little Crow told me he rather have the food than a few more soldier scalps. Tonight we will camp above the agency and tomorrow morning go in. If it is cleaned out as I expect, we will make New Ulm by the afternoon.”
The day wore on. Then late in the afternoon the scouts met the column. Huha du’ta (Red Legs) reported to Big Eagle. “We saw soldiers, about one hundred fifty in number. They are making camp at the coulee of white trees.”
Big Eagle wants to know what the soldiers are doing. “Are they looking for us?” The other scout Zitkadan ho’ta (Gray Bird) answers, “I do not think so. They rode and acted like they never heard of an Indian. The act like they are the only ones in the valley. This would be a good chance to wipe them out.”
That last statement got Big Eagle to thinking. While he thought he looked to Yellow Hair and then he said. “We could ride around them; that would be easy. But then on our way back fully loaded it would not be good if we were to run into them. We have a few more men than they do and we also know their whereabouts, while they have no idea we are close by. What does that suggest to you Yellow Hair?”
“It suggests to me that you are thinking of attacking them, but why?” “Look Yellow Hair, we know the fight is coming. Why Sibley has not moved against use before now is a mystery. But he can’t sit on his tail all winter. And he has almost doubled the fighting men that we do. Now, if we can whittle down his numbers then when the fight comes we will have that much better of a chance to win or at least fight to a draw.”
Yellow Hair is shaking his head slowly as he says, “We already now this war is lost, it was lost before it began, so what are you talking about?” “What I am talking about is what Little Crow and I have discussed many times over the last few days. Yes, in the long run we cannot win out over the Wasichus, but if we can fight Sibley to a draw then we can ask for a council of peace and demand a new treaty. One that will not let the traders touch our gold, one where we can set up our own stores. Just last night he told me that you would be the perfect choice to go east and buy out supplies and have them shipped out here. You used to be a Wasichu; you know how things work in the white world. So let us rub these soldiers out now that we have the chance.”
“I don’t know,” said Yellow Hair.
“Well think of this. One of those soldiers, if left alive, may be the one to ride into our village and club Good Thunder or shoot Suni. We are going to attack them regardless of what you do. But you are a Dakota and I thought you might want in on some of the fun.”
“Damn him,” thought Yellow Hair, “the sly old fox has fixed it so that I must fight.” With a heavy sigh, he said, “Lead the way O Great War Chief.” And then he smiled.
Big Eagle smiled back at Yellow Hair and told him they would attack before sunrise the next day. “We will make short work of these soldiers,” opined Big Eagle enthusiastically.
It is shortly after midnight when Big Eagle and his men cross the river, went up the bluffs and saw the white tents of the camp. The camp was about two hundred yards from the ravine and woods. And it was on flat and opened ground, it was not going to be easy to defend.
The plan was to surround the camp and attack before daybreak while the men were sleeping. There were pickets posted, but they were too close to the camp to very effectual.
The night is cool and Yellow Hair is lying in the tall grass observing the camp when Big Eagle crawls up besides him. “We are going to take out the pickets silently with arrows. Then we will attack them from all four sides. We should get most of them on the first assault.” “I have my bow and arrows on my pony. Do you want me to take out a picket?” Big Eagle shakes his head and says, “No, not with that new gun of yours. You and the others that have guns like yours can reload faster than those that have to put in ball and powder in after every shot. I want you and the others to place yourselves evenly around the camp. When you hear me whoop that that will be the signal to start firing. And keep firing, braves with shotguns will be crawling under your fire to get close enough to shoot the defenders at point blank range.
In the early hours just before sunrise, everything is going according to plan; that is until one of the pickets notices something in the grass. Thinking it only a dog, but not wanting to take any chances, he fires at the rustling grass. He does not hit anything or anyone, however, the camp comes awake and the Indians that had been sneaking up on the pickets rise and shoot their arrows at the rapidly retreating pickets, killing two. When the braves are safety back in the woods, the Indians start firing into the camp. A number of soldiers are killed on the first volley. As are a great number of horses.
The Indians try rushing the camp, but are repulsed. They try a second time, but the defenders kept them at bay. One brave is killed and one wounded.
Assessing the situation, Big Eagle calls his men back and tells them to keep a constant barrage on the camp. “Keep them pinned down and stay in the woods.” Were the orders he gave his men. Then as an afterthought, he tells his men to shoot all the horses so that a message for help can not be sent back to Fort Ridgely.
For the rest of the day the Indians keep up their fire on the camp. They have plenty of ammunition and food. And water is readily available at the coulee. Late in the afternoon the Indian women, who had been left on the far side of the river, cross over to prepared food for the braves. When the food is ready to be eaten, Big Eagle tells his braves to take turns coming in to eat.
By contrast the Indians have it much better than the soldiers. They, the soldiers, are laying in shallow ditches, which were hastily dug to provide some protection from the Indians fire. Many are ensconced behind dead horses and some are even using the bodies of dead comrades as breastworks. And as the day progresses and the sun heats up the prairie, the bodies of the dead, both animal and man, start to bloat and smell.
After all the braves have eaten and rested, Big Eagle realizes that he has not seen Yellow Hair since they rushed the camp for a second time. He goes from brave to brave asking if anyone has seen Yellow Hair. The answer is always the same, no. Finally he sends a brave to search the grass where Yellow Hair was last seen. “Be careful, keep on the ground. If you find him call out and we will come to you.
After a few minutes, Big Eagle hears the whistle of the of the Red Bird, but he knows it is the brave’s signal, for the Red Bird sings only at morning time.
He crawls to the brave and finds him next to a recumbent Yellow Hair and asks what is wrong with him. “He has been shot in the shoulder, but look here on the side of his head.” Big Eagle moves over to see what the brave is pointing at, and he sees the crease mark along the left side of Yellow Hair’s head. It was obviously put there by a ball shot from a musket. It hit him just above the temple and traveled along the side of his head.
Observing Yellow Hair is breathing they know that he still lives. They decide to wait until dark before they move him. In the meantime they attend to his shoulder wound.
At about the time the Big eagle noticed Yellow Hair was missing a small detachment of men left the fort to investigate what is purported to be the sound of gunfire. The sounds of gunshots from the morning’s battle have come to the fort. They were not clear and they were not distinct. The sound has traveled over the prairie and through the valley. But if you put your ear to the ground hear the sound of guns being fired.
Because of concern for the burial party a small force is sent out immediately, but is back within the hour saying that as soon as they left the fort the sounds had ceased. They believed the sounds to be an aberration, an unknown phenomenon of the prairie. But the sounds persist throughout the day. Finally, Sibley is persuaded that the sounds are indeed gunshots.
He sends out another force. This time comprised of two hundred and fifty men. It can only be the burial party in trouble. All the whites in the vicinity are either at the fort or have fled to St. Peter or St. Paul.
Before he notices that Yellow Hair is missing, Big Eagle was told of the two hundred and fifty soldiers headed their way. The war chief gave the order, “Take fifty men and do not let them see you. Make all sort of noise. Make them think that you are five hundred. Fire at them from a safe place and see if you can drive them back to the fort.”