Jacob: Part Four ...

The Seeds of Rebellion

When the Sioux, or the Dakota as they were then known, first laid eyes on a White Man, or a Wasichu, it was exactly one hundred and ninety-seven years to the day prior to Little Bighorn, their greatest military victory over the Wasichu. The date was 25 June 1679. And it was not a band of braves or a chief that first glimpsed the Wasichu. It was two young boys who should have been tending the wamnaheza (corn) crop with the women, but decided to go fishing instead.

The two youths, both ten winters old, walked the path that led to The Lake of The Knife; one carried a net, the other a coiled strip of rawhide. The net was to catch the fish with, the rawhide strip was to be used to string the fish once caught. “I bet you we catch so many fish our fathers will allow us to go fishing everyday instead staying with the women,” said the first child, whose named was Fast Wolf. “We are too old to stay with the woman,” exclaimed Fast Wolf’s friend, Little Deer.
The boys were so intent on their discussion that when they came around the bend in the trail they did not see the si’ca woniya (bad spirit) right away. However, after a few more steps they looked up to see the wowinihan (monster). He looked almost human, but instead of hair, his scalp was covered in fur, as was the lower half of his face.
The monster was tall, at least twelve hands. And his skin was not the color of a human being’s. It was lighter. When the monster saw that the boys had seen him, he smiled. Probably to lure them to their destruction. Then he held up his hand and said something only another monster could understand.
The boys did not wait around to be devoured. The net and the coil of rawhide lay on the path where the boys had stood. The boys themselves were hightailing it back to their village to warn the people that there was a monster in the woods.
When the monster saw the boys turn and run, he shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and hefted the large sack that hung from his left shoulder. From his right shoulder hung an iron stick with what looked like a block of wood attached to one end of it. And at a leisurely pace he followed the path that boys had fled down.
The boys flew into the village shouting that there was a monster in the woods and he had tried to eat them. Of course, the people of the village were amused. Some smiled tolerant smiles. Others laughed out loud. And still others shook their heads at the foolishness of children. That is until the monster walked into the village.
This particular monster had a name. It was Daniel Greysolon, Sieur du Lhut. He was from a land far to the east, a land called France. The monster had traveled many moons to find the Dakota. He had business to discuss with them.
The monster, who was not really a monster, but only a man, strode to the center of the village. The women stayed close to their tepees, the children stayed close to their mothers, and the men stayed where they were, but all eyes followed him.
To the men of the village he was not a monster, but a man. However, he was a type of man they had never seen before. What sort of man would allow hair to grow on his face? And he did not have a fur scalp; it was a covering of some sort, perhaps beaver.
When the man reached the center of the village he spoke in the Ojibwa tongue. “I have come to trade with you.” A few who heard him understood what he said and they told the others. He then laid the sack and the iron stick on the ground. Of course, the “iron stick” was a musket. Bending down he reached into the sack and withdrew a knife with a razor sharp edge and laid it on the ground. Then he pulled from the sack a steel kettle and metal eating utensils and placed them next to the knife. Again and again the man reached into the sack and each time he pulled out a new wonder until the sack lay empty.
Then Sieur du Lhut picked up the knife, stood, and said, “I would speak with your chief.” But by now a crowd had formed around him. The women were looking at the metal implements used for cooking and the men were looking at the brightly polished, steel blade of the knife.
After a few minutes, the crowd parted and two men approached him. The younger of the two spoke to Sieur du Lhut in the Ojibwa tongue. “I am Tatanka Sa (Red Buffalo) and this is Skoon Ka Ska (White Dog), our chief. I will speak for him. I understand the Ojibwa tongue; as a child I was captured and lived with them for three years before escaping.”
Extending his arms, holding the knife flat in the palms of his hands, and looking directly at White Dog, Sieur du Lhut spoke, “I give this to you in friendship.”
When Red Buffalo told his chief what was said, White Dog took the knife from the Sieur du Lhut. It was a beauty. The Blade was nine inches long, the handle, made of deer bone, five inches. White Dog turned the knife over and inspected it from every angle, finally testing the blade with his thumb.
Waiting for this moment, Sieur du Lhut took a green twig out of his side coat pocket and proffered it to White Dog. It was eight inches long and a half an inch thick. Speaking to Red Buffalo, he said, “Tell him to slice the knife through the wood.”
White Dog did not have to be told twice. Holding the twig in his left hand and the knife in his right, he brought knife to wood. When the knife cut the twig cleanly in half, White Dog smiled and told Red Buffalo to tell the stranger to collect his gear and follow them. He was to be an honored guest of the village. Sieur du Lhut put his things back into the sack, hefted it onto his shoulder, picked up his musket, and followed the two men through the crowd of on lookers to White Dog’s lodge.
Once the sacred pipe had been smoked and the food eaten that was brought by one of White Dog’s wives, the men got down to business. Speaking through the interpreter Red Buffalo, the two men spoke. “What do you want stranger?” “I am called Sieur du Lhut and I want to trade with you and your people.” “You have such wondrous things, what have we that you desire?”
It was then that Sieur du Lhut removed the fur from his head. “This is beaver pelt.” White Dog replied, “I know what it is.” “Well, I desire the pelts of the beaver and the fox. Also there are two other animals, but I don’t know the words for them in the Ojibwa tongue. But in my tongue they are called ermine and sable. If we come to an understanding, I will go into the woods and show the animals to your people. What I propose is that this autumn and winter your people trap as many animals as they can. And in the spring I will return for the skins with canoes filled with cloth, things made of metal, knifes and hatchets. But I have saved the best for last. If you would please follow me outside, I will show you something that will make the Dakota a mighty nation. With what I am going to show you, the Dakota will easily defeat the Ojibwa, the Huron, and the Ottawa.”
Picking up his musket and holding it out toward White Dog, Sieur du Lhut said, “This will win many battles for the Dakota.” “White Dog could not resist, “The Dakota win their own battles.”
When they were outside of White Dog’s tepee, Sieur du Lhut walked to the edge of the village where he pointed to an old birch. “Think of that tree as a man.” He then placed the stock of the musket on the ground with the barrel pointing up. Taking his time so that White Dog could follow his movements, he set the hammer to half cocked to be safe. He would be looking down the barrel and if the hammer was on full cock the gun might go off.
He then took a charge from a pouch that hung at his side. On top of the charge was a ball. He tore the charge with his teeth and kept the ball in his mouth. Then he poured the powder down the barrel, put the ball of lead into the barrel and put the wadding from the package on top. Taking the ramrod, he tamped the powder, the ball and the wadding into the barrel. The wadding was there to make sure that the ball and gunpowder stayed put. Adding some gunpowder to the flash pan below the trigger, he fully cocked the musket and aimed at the birch.
There were a few people milling about, trying to observe what the stranger was doing. Sieur du Lhut asked Red Buffalo to tell everyone to stand behind him. He did not want to shoot anyone by accident. It might interfere with his trading plans. It might also considerably shorten his life.
When everyone was clear, he pulled the trigger. The loud report frightened some. Red Buffalo who was closest to Sieur du Lhut jumped at the noise. However, White Dog gave no indication of fear or surprise, but said, “Are loud noises supposed to defeat our enemies?” “No, but this will, follow me.”
Sieur du Lhut went to the tree and pointed to the hole that the ball had made. Taking out his knife, he dug the ball from the tree and handed it to White Dog. “If that little ball can do that to a sturdy tree, think what it can do to a man.”
White Dog looked thoughtful for a moment, then looked at the inquiring faces of his people who had crowded in close to see the musket ball, and then said to Red Buffalo, “Tell the … the …” and looking Sieur du Lhut over, said the word for the first time in the Dakota language. “Tell the Wasichu he will stay with us awhile, there are many things of which we must speak.”
Sieur du Lhut stayed three weeks. During that time he taught White Dog how to load and fire the musket. However, White Dog wanted to trade for the musket before Sieur du Lhut left, but it was politely explained to him that it was needed for the return journey.
He and White Dog agreed to trade muskets, balls and powder, plus knives, hatchets and other goods for the pelts of the beaver, fox, ermine and sable. How many pelts per musket would depend on the quality of the pelts.
Sieur du Lhut said he would return in nine moons with many men and canoes to carry away the pelts that would be harvested during that time. He told White Dog that he would take all the pelts that he could deliver. Sieur du Lhut left at the end of The Moon When Cherries Are Ripe (July) and would return during The Moon of the Red Grass (April).

The British knew the man Sieur du Lhut by his anglicized name Duluth. The same Duluth for which the city was named.
So ended the first encounter between the Wasichu and the Dakota. The Dakota thought that they had made a good bargain, and perhaps they did, but it was still a bargain with the devil.
After Duluth, other Wasichus came to trade. Then others came to stay the winter and do their own trapping. Every year brought more of the Wasichu. Three winters after making his pact with Duluth, White Dog was killed in battle by a ball fired from a musket held by an Ojibwa brave. The brave was given the musket by Duluth in exchange for eighty beaver pelts.
Forty winters after Duluth walked into the Dakota village, the Ojibwa, which are also known as Chippewa drove the Isanyati Sioux, as the French called them, from the Lake of The Knife. They migrated south and eventually settled on the fringes of the Great Plains on the Minnesota River. They continued to trap and sell furs to the French and then the English. Later they would trade with men from the United States, a new country to the east.
One hundred and twenty-four winters after the death of White Dog, the Isanyati Sioux had their first dealings with officials from the United States. The treaty signed at that time and subsequent treaties forced upon the Santee Sioux would portend the demise of a way of life that had held them in good stead for ten thousand years. In the end, because of the Wasichus, they would be reduced from a nation of fierce, independent people to a people dependant on hand outs from the ones who stole not only their land, but also their dignity.

The man was looking at himself in the mirror. His gaze was directed at the single yellow bar that decorated each shoulder of his dark blue tunic. So intent were his thoughts that he did not hear the woman as she entered the room. “Admiring ourselves again?” “Oh, hello Clarissa. No, I was wondering how I would look with captain bars on my blouse.” “I think you would look just fine Lieutenant Pike.” “Why, thank you Mrs. Pike.”
Lieutenant and Mrs. Zebulon Montgomery Pike, Jr. had been married four years by the summer of 1805. And he had been in the army eleven years, starting out as a raw cadet in his father’s old regiment. He and his wife were “regular army,” moving from posting to posting along the frontier of the new country known as the Untied States. But like all young men, he wanted a taste of action and adventure. However, what he got was assigned to handle the logistics and payroll of the various forts to which he had been assigned.
Continuing the conversation, Clarissa Pike asked, “What did General Wilkinson want you for?” “Clarissa, you will not believe this, but I have a command. I’ve been ordered to find the head waters of the Mississippi and to secure a treaty with the savages west of the river. If I succeed, I may get those captain bars yet. Six years as a lieutenant is a might too long in my estimation.” “I believe you can do anything you set your mind to Lieutenant Pike. But why a treaty? That land is a wilderness; no one except a savage can live there.” “Well, the way it was explained to me is that since President Jefferson bought all that land from France we should at least know what’s out there. My orders are to procure land in order to build a string of forts. Also, the Indians are trading with the English and we want to get them to trade with us. President Jefferson does not want the English in our back yard.” Clarissa Pike thought President Jefferson foolish to have spent so much money, Fifteen million dollars, on a wasteland, but kept those thoughts to herself. She was after all the wife of an officer in the United States Army. It would not help his career if his wife was overheard criticizing the Commander-In -Chief. “I came in to tell you that dinner is ready. Come, you can tell me when you have to leave and what you might need so that I can pack it for you.”
Over dinner Lieutenant Pike told his wife that his contingent would be leaving as soon as they had provisioned. Probably in about three weeks, stores had to be sent for and brought in. Clarissa knew that her husband would be away at least eight months and for that she was not happy. However, she was glad that Zeb had finally been given a chance to prove himself. Then she remembered something. “What about that nice Mr. Lewis your father introduced us to last year in Washington?” “You mean Meriwether Lewis?” “Yes, that’s the man. Didn’t he tell us that the president was sending a surveying party out west with him heading it?” “Yes, him and Bill Clark, but they left a few days after we spoke with him and that was over a year ago; and no one’s heard from them since. As I’ve told you, the president is getting anxious to know what’s out there.”
There was not much else to say at the dinner table that night. The president of the Untied States wanted the country to have a presence west of the Mississippi, and Lieutenant Zebulon Pike was selected to establish that presence. It was six weeks before he and his contingent were ready to leave. Since General Washington’s time there has been one axiom that has held fast in the American Army and that is, “Hurry up and wait.” Though this time the waiting was very hard on Lieutenant Pike.
It is the morning of 9 August 1805.The sun has not yet risen on the Mississippi River as a keelboat leaves St. Louis headed north. At its bow are three men, Lt. Pike, Sgt. McLaughlin and the scout and interpreter Harley. It is not known if Harley is his given or his surname name. If he has another name no one had ever heard it spoken. He is a grizzled ex-trapper who had spent many years among the Sioux. Sgt. McLaughlin is an Irishman with a taste for spirits, the liquid kind. Behind the three men are ten soldiers and the supplies needed for the expedition.
Forty-three days later on 21 September 1805 Harley informs Lt. Pike that they are entering Sioux territory and that they should make camp. Then the two of them will go to the Mdewakanton village and speak with their chief and get a lay of the land. In turn Lt. Pike calls to his sergeant, “Select two men to accompany me and issue them the gifts we brought for the savages. Harley and I will proceed to their village while you set up camp.”
It was on that day that the American flag was raised over the land of the Sioux for the first time.
As the men left the makeshift camp, Harley spoke to the lieutenant, “I heard you refer to the Indians as savages. I hope you don’t make the mistake of thinking that you will be dealing with simple men. Their chief Little Crow is twice the man either one of us pretends to be.” (This Little Crow is the grandfather of the man who welcomed Yellow Hair to his village.) Turning to look at Harley, Lt. Pike said, “I plan to carry out my mission to the best of my ability. The savages … excuse me; the Indians will be treated fairly.” The two men did not speak again until they were approaching the Sioux village.
“All right Mr. Pike, time to earn your army pay. Just do as I tell ya’ and you won’t offend. When Little Crow offers you the pipe, accept it, take one pull and return it to him. And are you going to wear that cutlass? You know there’s no chairs out here? It’s gonna’ be mighty hard sittin’ on the ground with that thing stickin’ out.” Pike looked pained when his saber was referred to as a cutlass. “It is not a cutlass Mr. Harley, it is a saber. It is part of my uniform. Now please lead the way without further comment. Your job is to guide and interpret; your advice concerning my dress is not needed.” Harley responded, “It’s not Mr. Harley, it’s just Harley.”
Harley wished he was still trapping instead of guiding this fool lieutenant, but what with the French and the English, and now the Americans out here, there just were not enough animals to go around anymore.
The four men walked into the center of the Sioux village where they stopped in front of a large tepee. “This is Little Crow’s lodge, said Harley; I’ll go in and speak with him. You stay here and enter when I call. But leave the two soldier boys outside, you bring in the presents. A chief will only parley with another chief.”
With those words, Harley went to the entrance to the tepee where he called out, “May an old man and an old friend enter the lodge of Little Crow?” There was an affirmative answer from within, so Harley pulled back the skin covering the entrance and disappeared inside.
He was gone for what seemed an awful long time. Pike was just about to go into the tepee when Harley stuck his head out. Seeing Pike’s intent, he sad, “Mr. Pike, you were just about the sabotage your own mission. Don’t never enter an Indian’s lodge unless you’ve been invited. Now let’s get you and those presents inside.”
Once the introductions were complete, the gifts given, the pipe smoked and food offered (but declined), it was time to get down to business.
Speaking through Harley, Lt. Pike told Little Crow that he had come to buy land for the purpose of setting up trading posts, and that the Americans wished to trade with the Sioux and would offer more than the English. “To establish these forts, or trading post, we will need land. Land with timber near by and we’ll pay for your land in gold.”
Looking at Pike, but speaking to Harley, Little Crow said, “What use have we for the yellow metal? Ponies make a man wealthy, not that which is stolen from the earth.”
In response Pike takes out a ten dollar gold piece and shows it to Little Crow. “You see this? This and many more we will give you. And once the posts are established you and your people can use these to purchase blankets, knives, hatchets, food and even horses. You will not have to trap to trade, and with the posts right here on your land, you will not have to wait a year for the traders to return in the spring.”
Then catching his breath, Pike finished with, “We do not require much land, and you have so much, the little you sell us will never be missed.” If Pike thought he would get a quick yes or no from Little Crow he was mistaken. Little Crow’s mind seemed to be somewhere else. He said nothing in response to what Pike had just said. Instead he reached for his pipe, filled it with tobacco and smoked and thought of what would be best for his people.
After a few minutes Pike looked inquiringly at Harley. The unspoken question was, “What is he doing?” Without saying a word, Harley held up his hand towards Pike, meaning “Just wait.” And wait they did.
Twenty minutes later that Little Crow sets down his pipe and says, “It is not for me alone to decide. I speak only for the Mdewakanton. I will call a council of all the chiefs. It will be held after three sleeps. When Pike hears the translation from Harley he does not know if he is one step closer to those elusive captain bars or if they have just evaded him once again. However, he does manage to tell Little Crow, “While we wait for the other chiefs to arrive I’ll survey appropriate locales for the forts. When you and the other chiefs are ready to parley, send for me and I will come. We are camped an hour east of here.”
When leaving the village, Harley says to Pike, “You know giving beads and blankets to Indians is rather old fashioned. I think you would have made more of an impression on Little Crow if you had given him a musket and some powder.” Sighing, Pike agreed, “Those gifts were some jackass’s idea in the procurement office, not mine. Hell, I’ll give him my gun if I can return with a signed treaty.”
For the next three days Pike scouts and surveys locales for his forts. Though Pike had told Little Crow that they were to be trading post, in reality the American intent was to establish a military presence. Yes, there would be a small trading post within the forts, run by a “trader.” However, that was of a secondary concern.
On the forth day after meeting with Little Crow, Pike and Harley are summoned to the Mdewakanton village. Upon arriving they are introduced to the other chiefs of the Sioux; Mato-Tamaheda (Lean Bear) of the Wahpeton, Iśta-hba (Sleep Eyes) of the Sisseton, Mazo’Hota (Grey Iron) of the Wahpekute, Tatanka-hanska (Long Buffalo) of the Yanktonai, Ite Wakinyan (Thunder Face) of the Teton, and Wamdi-duta (Scarlet Eagle) of the Yankton.
After the formalities are attended to, Pike tells the chiefs the same thing he had told Little Crow three days earlier. However, he does add, “I now know we will require one hundred thousand acres. That will include the right-of-way between the three proposed forts and the surrounding lands for access to timber and water. Each fort, or I should say trading post, will be fifty miles apart.”
Of course, the Indians do not know what an acre is let alone one hundred thousand of the damn things. But pike presses on regardless. “I believe the land to be worth two dollars per acre. So the United States of America will pay you, the Sioux, $200,000.00 for a ribbon of land one hundred and fifty-six miles long.”
The long and short of it is that the chiefs agree to sell a small potion of their land to the Wasichus. There are smiles and handshakes all around until Pike takes a piece of paper out of his coat pocket and says, “I have taken the liberty of drawing up the treaty beforehand. Now all that is needed is for us to affix our signatures to the document.”
That causes a problem. Pike is told that their word should be enough. To put their mark on paper would mean that they are not men of honor and that they will keep their word only because of the mark. In the end only two of the seven chiefs, Little Crow and Lean Bear, sign the treaty.
In what is to be a precursor to all future treaties with the Sioux, the amount is not written into the treaty. It is left blank so that the Senate can fill in the amount during the ratification process. However, the Senate changes the amount from $200,000.00 to $2000.00, which means that the Sioux are to be paid two cents and acre and not the two dollars per acre as agreed to and promised.
However, the amount turned out to be irrelevant. The Sioux were never paid for the land. And it would be fourteen years before the Untied States came to build the forts on the land that they stole.
The next encounter the Dakota had with Wasichu officialdom was in 1806 when Pike returned and tried to enlist the Dakota’s allegiance to the American cause vis à vis The British. Perhaps because a year had gone by since the signing of the treaty and no payment had been received, it is not surprising that Little Crow responded to the entreaty by saying, “We know the English. They have treated us fairly. You American Wasichu are unknown to us. We will wait to see if you can keep your word before we pledge ourselves to you.”
As to Lieutenant Pike, he reported back that he had found the headwaters of the Mississippi, he had not. While trying to climb the mountain that bears his name (Pike’s Peak) he got himself stuck in the snow half way up and had to descend and never did make it to the summit. Tasked with exploring and mapping the Southwest, he was captured by the Spanish, had all but a few of his records and maps confiscated, and was held prisoner for a year. He was killed during the war of 1812 while leading a charge against York (Toronto). But he died a brigadier general.
When the war of 1812 broke out, the Dakota fought for the British, partly because of the promise of future benefits made by the British. When the war ended in 1815 with their defeat, the British were unable or unwilling to fulfill those promises. At a council with the British where the Dakota were offered gifts in an effort to appease them, Little Crow said:
“After we have fought for you, endured many hardships, lost some of our people, and awakened the vengeance of our powerful neighbors, you make a peace for yourselves and leave us to obtain such terms as we can. You no longer need our services and offer us these goods as a compensation for having deserted us. But no, we will not take them; we hold them and yourselves in equal contempt.”
Later in 1815, at the Portage des Sioux, the United States signed peace and friendship treaties with the Mdewakanton, the Teton, the Wahpeton, and the Yankton bands. A year later the rest of the Dakota bands signed identical treaties.
In 1819 the US Army finally showed up to build the first fort provided for in the treaty of 1805. The fort originally name Fort St. Anthony, but renamed Fort Snelling was later used as a prison for the Dakota.
In 1825 the Treaty of Prairie de Chien was signed in an effort to stop the warring between the Dakota and their enemies. A boundary was set to keep the tribes apart. However, the wars continued, so the Americans proposed another treaty. Under that treaty the Dakota ceded a twenty mile strip of land to the United States. This was done to keep the Indians apart. In return the Indians were to receive cash and tools. And as usual, the payments were slow in coming, if at all, and the tools were of inferior quality.
Then in 1832 the US gave the land to the Winnebago’s. Naturally this did not set well with the Dakota. Little Crow who had signed the 1825 and 1830 treaties saw the give-a-way as treachery on the part of the Americans. And it was. Up to that time they had signed four treaties with the United States and not one of them had been lived up to by the Americans in either the spirit or the letter of the words written within those treaties.
Five years later, in 1837, the Americans wanted an additional five million acres of Dakota land, Santee Sioux land in particular. Knowing it would be a hard sell; the government brought twenty-six chiefs to Washington to show them the might and majesty that was America, and ensconced them at the Globe Hotel. In other words they wanted to intimidate the Indians into selling their land.
The government proposed paying one million dollars for the acreage in installments over a twenty year period. Part of the payment was to be in the form of farm equipment, medicine, and livestock. Significantly intimidated by Washington the Indians signed the treaty and went home. It took a year for the first payment to arrive. Of course, the lands were arrogated before the ink was dry on the treaty. And when the materials did arrive, they were either of an inferior quality or worthless altogether.
The significance of the 1837 treaty lies in the fact that it was the first time “traders” were allowed to lay claim to the Indians’ payments without any proof and without consulting the Indians. Monies were subtracted from the payments and paid directly to the traders.
The next treaty forced upon the Santee Sioux was the one signed at the Traverse des Sioux in 1851. Which is were Yellow Hair reenters the story. However, before we get to him, there was one other factor that added to the plight of the Santee Sioux. In 1849 the Territory of Minnesota was created. Overnight the Dakota went from living on their own land to inhabiting land within a United States territory. And once a territory, the pressure from the Wasichus to acquire land for the immigrants pouring into that territory became great indeed.

Late in the Moon of the Snowblind (March) the Mdewakanton band started back to their summer hunting grounds. The winter buffalo hunt had gone well. Yellow Hair had learned how to skin a buffalo, how to use its stomach to boil the meat, and the myriad other uses of the beast.
As Suni and Yellow Hair rode side-by-side, one pony drag carrying their tepee and belongings, and the other stacked high with dried buffalo meat, Yellow Hair spoke. “These last few moons have been quite an experience. Never in my life did I think I’d participate in a buffalo surround. And Catcher of the Wind is some buffalo pony.” Suni looking at her husband with pride, said, “My husband, you have done well. You have killed as many buffalo as any man, but what happened that time you got so far ahead of the others. Do you remember? It was two sleeps ago and when you returned you said that Catcher of the Wind saved your life. I did not have time to ask you then because you were off once again chasing the herd, but what happened.”
Smiling to himself, Yellow Hair answered, “Somehow I got long way in front of the others. I was chasing a small group of buffalo, maybe eight or nine. I finally killed a bull and a cow and let the others go. I jumped from my pony and tied him to the bull and started to skin the cow. Then my pony started to dance around in a half circle and snort as though he was trying to tell me something. I remembered your father telling me Catcher of the Wind was a very smart horse, so I stopped what I was doing and stood to look around at what might be spooking him. I saw nothing, so I went back to work. But he would not stop his prancing and neighing, so once again I stood and looked around, and that is when I saw a large bull bearing down on me. He must have been crazed by the smell of the blood. The wind was blowing in his direction. I had just time enough to untie my pony and get on him. Wheeling him around, we galloped a short distance and stopped. The bull went to the cow and rutted the ground. He smelled the blood alright. He moaned and ripped at the ground surrounding the cow. If I had not been alerted by Catcher of the Wind I would have ended up under the hoofs of that bull. As it was, I drew my bow and arrow, charged the bull and got him with one shot through the eye. He fell to the ground dead. Of course, I was aiming for his heart, but he lowered his head to charge and it got in my way.”
“Yes, of all my father’s ponies, except Star, the one he rides into battle, Catcher of the Wind was his favorite.” “Well, I sure owe my life to that horse.” And then Yellow Hair added, “You know what surprised me the most about the hunt?” “What was there to be surprised about? I told you everything. I did not forget anything.” “You did not tell of children running to my kill and watching me skin the animal and before I could get the skin pulled off, rushing in to take the liver. I would turn to see a child with a big smile on his face, holding a liver; because the animal was just killed, and in the cold, steam was rising from it. Then he would devour it as I had the half cent peppermints my father used to buy me when I was a child.” “Yes, pulling a still warm liver, or a kidney, out of a just killed buffalo and eating it is what a child looks forward to before the hunt. I remember as a child, as my father skinned and cut meat, getting in his way because I could not wait to eat the liver.”
Suni thought, as she rode next to her husband, “I have taught him well. He is a respected warrior and hunter. I have told him many things, but what I now carry in my heart I do not know how to say. But he must be told.” Turning to Yellow Hair, she reached out her hand, “Take my hand husband, there is something you must know.”
Yellow Hair stretched out his hand and Suni firmly grabbed onto it. She would have liked not to have the drag attached to her pony. She envisioned herself telling Yellow Hair what must be told and then spurring her pony and galloping away to let him ponder what had been said. However, there would be no galloping anywhere with a drag tied to her pony.
Holding her man’s hand, but not looking at him Suni said, “Soon there will be a time that I will not be able to hunt with you. Soon I will be like the other women of our band. Soon I will no longer tie my pony’s tail for war. And soon you may want a second wife.”
Yellow Hair let go of his wife’s hand, and placing a finger under her chin, raised her head until she was looking into his sky blue eyes. “What is this nonsense you speak? Yes, in the future I will go on the war path and you will stay home, as it should be. And I will hunt, but I always liked hunting with you. Especially when we took breaks under a tree or in a glen. And as for another wife,” and here he smiled, “I think one is enough trouble.” At the remembrance of what transpired under those trees and in those glens, Suni blushed. Then straighten her back and said, “My husband I am with child.” Though she did not gallop off, she did kick her pony to pick up its pace and rode in front of Yellow Hair without looking back.
The Mdewakanton band of the Santee Sioux returned to their summer camp and the women prepared the earth to receive the seeds of the vegetables grown the summer before. The men went out in hunting parties and for the first time since she was fourteen winters old, Fighting Woman did not accompany them. Nor did she mind staying behind with the women, which surprised her greatly. But her thoughts were on the life she carried within, not on stalking deer for hours on end.
When the hunting parties returned the men told of scarce game and of seeing more and more Wasichus where once there were deer and elk.
It soon became evident that the game they depended on for food to feed the village was either being hunted by the Wasichus or driven away by their presence. Some people of the village were alarmed at the scarcity of game. They worried that within a few winters there might not be food enough for the children, which prompted Little Crow and his council to meet to discuss the problem of the diminishing game and if anything could be done to slow the advancement of the Wasichu onto their lands.
At the same time that Little Crow was meeting with his council, to the north another meeting was taking place. In the capitol city of St. Paul, the territorial governor, Alexander Ramsey, was meeting with Luke Lea, the Commissioner of Indian Affairs out from Washington.
With his back to the room and looking out of the study window at his children playing in the yard, the governor said, “I appreciate you coming all the way out here Mr. Lea to help us with our problem. We will need the help and support of Washington if we are to avoid war with the savages. Everyday more immigrants pour into the territory and settle on land that is supposedly owned by them. The Indian agent hears complaints daily from the Indians concerning settlers living on their land. He tells me he fears some of the wild, young bucks might cause trouble if things continue as they are.”
“Washington, or I should say the president, is acutely aware of your problem Governor Ramsey. I assure you that your letters have not gone unread in the White House. That is why I am here, to help you in anyway that I can,” replied the Commissioner of Indian Affairs.
Ramsey knew the Commissioner was pacing behind him. He could hear the click click click of his peg leg on the wooden floor. Lea had lost a leg fighting the British in 1814. As Ramsey turned from the window and faced his guest, he said, “The answer is easy Commissioner, we just need more land. We’ve got a few thousand savages laying claim to millions of acres of land that is just ripe for settlement.”
Lea interposed, “I have been authorized to purchase up to twenty-five million acres at a cost to the Treasury of three million dollars, more or less. May I suggest you summon their chief and I’ll make the offer? Three million dollars is a lot of money.”
“First of all there are four bands, or tribes, and each band has sub bands, each with their own chief. And they may be reluctant to sell anymore of their land to the United States. From what I hear, we have not exactly honored our past commitments. And once payment is finally made there is not much left after the traders take what they say is owed them.” so informed Ramsey.
Well, Governor we’ll just have to persuade them that selling us their land is in their best interest. It should not be too hard. After all, they’re just ignorant savages. And if we have to deal with four or eight chiefs then so be it. You know the situation out here better than I do, what do you suggest?”
Some Commissioner of Indian Affairs, thought Ramsey. He doesn’t know the first thing about the Sioux, just another political appointee. But aloud he said, “I suggest we divide and conquer. We’ll have two confabulations. And at each we’ll dicker with only two of the four main bands at a time.”
So it was decided in April of 1851 that there would be two convocations with the Santee Sioux in the summer of that year. Preparations were made, word sent out to the chiefs, and champagne was ordered from the east.
Half way through the Moon of Making Fat (June) two soldiers of the United States Army rode into the Mdewakanton village. Because they could not speak the language of the Sioux, Big Eagle was sent for to interpret their message. However, he could not be found, so Little Crow sent for Fighting Woman and if she could not be found, Yellow Hair was to come. While waiting for an interpreter, Little Crow brought the soldiers into his lodge and offered them the sacred pipe. By the time they had partaken of the pipe, Yellow Hair was shown into the tepee.
Seeing Yellow Hair, Little Crow smiled and said, “Yellow Hair I need your help; these men have come to me, but for what reason I do not know. Please ask them why they have come.”
Upon seeing Yellow Hair, both soldiers’ jaws dropped and they sat there with open mouths. Here was a white man dress as a savage, if you could call it being dressed. He wore only a breach clout and moccasins. The more senior of the two, a second lieutenant by the name of Murray, without thinking, blurted out, “My God, where did you come from?”
Without responding to the lieutenant’s query, Yellow hair asked the man his reason for coming. But still the lieutenant persisted, "”What is a White Man doing running around half naked in an Indian camp?”
Yellow Hair staring into the lieutenant’s eyes said. “I am Dakota. Now state your business. You are in the presence of Little Crow chief of the Mdewakanton. He has met with the President of the United States and many generals. They consider him a friend. One word from him and you’ll be a private when you get out of the stockade, if you ever get out. Now I’ll ask you once again, what is your business?”
Taken aback, the lieutenant said, “We have been sent to invite Little Crow to meet with the Territorial Governor and the Commissioner of Indian affairs at Mendota at the beginning of August. He added that the Wahpekute would also be there. The Governor and Commissioner have something of great import to discuss with both chiefs. If he agrees to come, an escort will be provided. The exact date has not been set, but it will most likely be the first week of August.
Yellow Hair had to stop and think for a moment, and then he asked the lieutenant, “What month is this and what day?” The lieutenant in his turn took a moment before answering. “We left St. Paul two days ago and it was the twenty fourth, so today must be the twenty sixth. And the month is June.”
Yellow Hair conveyed the message to Little Crow, adding that the Wasichu big wigs wanted to meet with him and the Wahpekute chief in a moon and a half. Little Crow sighed and slowly shook his head before saying, “It seems the Americans want more of our land. It is the only time we hear from them. Tell the soldiers that I and council will attend.”
After the soldiers had departed, Little Crow asked Yellow Hair to stay a moment; he had something to say to him. “With so many Wasichus coming into our country I think it is time that I learn the American tongue. Will you teach me how to speak like a Wasichu Yellow Hair?” “Little Crow, I would be honored. But, I am out hunting everyday. Everyday we have to go further and further from the village to find game. I was thinking that since Fighting Woman stays in the village that she could teach you. She taught me your language.” “That would be fine Yellow Hair. Tell her I would like to start tomorrow. Now there is one more thing I would like your help on.”
Yellow Hair sat expectantly waiting to hear what the request was. Then Little Crow spoke. “Do you read the Wasichu words that are written?” “Yes Little Crow I can read.” “Then it would be good if you went with us, their treaties I cannot read. And to date we never seem to receive what has been promised.” Yellow Hair thought for a while before speaking. “Little Crow you know even though I was born a Wasichu I am now a Dakota in body and spirit. I wish never to return to the land of the Wasichu. And I will do anything I can for the Dakota in general and the Mdewakanton in particular. But there is one that my allegiance must be given to first. Fighting Woman is with child and is expected to give birth at the time of the conference. So my chief I must decline your request. I may be needed here.” “Yellow Hair, you may think you are all Dakota, but I think some Wasichu blood still flows in your body. Having babies is woman’s work. But that is all right, I will have Big Eagle speak on our behalf to the Wasichu chieftains.”
In a two week period starting near the end of the Moon When the Cherries are Ripe (July) and the beginning of the Moon of Black Cherries (August) three significant events took place in the newly formed territory of Minnesota. The first was the Treaty of Traverse des Sioux which was signed on 23 July 1851. The conclave was held on the western bank of the Blue Earth River. The participants were the United States of America, represented by Alexander Ramsey, Governor of the Minnesota Territory and Luke Lea, Commissioner of Indian Affairs on the one side, and the Sisseton and Wahpeton bands of the Dakota Nation on the other.
The gathering had a festive look to it. The Indians’ tepees were arranged in a circle denoting the hoop of life. The Wasichu stayed in tents, grand affairs, suitable for the station in life of their inhabitants.
Because the Treaty of Traverse des Sioux and the Treaty of Mendota where identical except for acreage purchased and the amount paid, we will dispense describing the commotion and hoopla surrounding the first event. The Sisseton and the Wahpeton were paid $1,665.000 for all their lands in the State of Iowa and the Territory Of Minnesota, which came out to three cents per acre. Then the United States turned around and sold the land for $1.25 per acre to white settlers. The Dakota, or Sioux, did not want to sell, but were threatened and coerced into signing away their lands. The same tactics where used on the Mdewakanton and Wahpekute, and we will get to them shortly, but first the second event of significance.
It is the first day of the Moon of Black Cherries in the Winter of Loss as the year 1851 came to be known to the Dakota. It is a decalescent day in the Mdewakanton village. The skins that cover the entrances to many of the tepees are lifted to allow an in sweep of air that will funnel up and out of the opening at the top of each tepee. The overwhelming heat is oppressive. The sun is almost overhead and most of the people are immobile because of the heat. The children of course, are active and playing their games. The chief and the men of the council are away negotiating a new treaty with representatives of the Great Father in Washington.
An old man walks up to the lodge and asks permission to enter. Instead of getting the reply he expected, the skin is pulled back and a head is extended, and the woman whose head it is, says, “Short Bull, this is no place for a man. If you are looking for your friend he is down at the river. I think you should go to him. At a time like this he may need you.” As the old man turns to leave, he hears a scream from within the tepee and thinks, “Woe befalls the man caught inside that lodge.”
Finding the one he seeks walking back and forth by the river bank, the old man cries out, “Yellow Hair, I see that this is Fighting Woman’s time.” Thankful for the distraction, Yellow Hair complains to Short Bull that he is not allowed in his own lodge. “And at a time like this!” Trying not to smile, Short Bull says, “Come let us walk, I will tell you the ways of the expectant father.”
As they walk, Short Bull bends down and collects a handful of small stones. Stopping and facing the river he throws the stones into the flowing water one at a time. Without looking at Yellow Hair, he says, “I may not look like it, but I have fathered three children, two boys and a girl. They are all gone now, the tragedies of war. But what I am trying to tell you my friend is that the time to worry is after they get here. What is going on in your lodge at the moment is not meant for men to be a party of. When the women want you, when your child has arrived, you will be sent for. Being brave in war is nothing compared to what you are going through now. I think first time fathers should be given the feather of the eagle instead of one who is brave in battle.” When he had finished speaking, Short Bull puts his hand on Yellow Hair’s shoulder and adds, “Let us go back now and await the call from the women. It is too bad you do not use tobacco. This is a good time for the pipe.”
Approaching the place where Short Bull first encountered Yellow Hair, a woman, it is Red Eagle Woman, runs up to them and exclaims, “Yellow Hair you have a wića (a male child) and he and Fighting Woman are both fine.” At this point Yellow Hair’s legs get weak and he has to sit down on a nearby boulder so as not to fall to the ground. Then he says, “When can I see Suni?” “She is waiting for you now. And so is your son.” “I like the sound of that …my son.” Then he shouts, “I have a son!” and runs off towards his lodge. Short Bull and Red Eagle Woman looking at one another; break out in big grins before laughing out loud.
The child is a fine and healthy boy. He is named Wakinyanhoton Waśte, (Good Thunder). And the Yellow Hair lodge knows peace and happiness; at least for the time being.
Now to the third occurrence that took place within that two week period at the end of the Moon When Cherries Are Ripe and the beginning of the Moon of Black Cherries in the Winter of Loss, the signing of the Treaty of Mendota.

The procession stretches back almost a quarter of a mile. They march at a slow pace so as not to kick up too much dust. But their slow pace is to no avail; it is the hot, dry season. The man at the lead is one William Murray, actually Lieutenant William Murray, a recent graduate of West Point and the man who extended the original invitation to Little Crow. He is on his first posting and he and his wife, the former Mary Collins, look forward to the adventure that will be their lives together.
He had been detailed to escort the Mdewakanton to the conference at Mendota. On the Wasichu calendar the date is 1 August 1851. Behind Lieutenant Murray and his soldiers ride the Mdewakanton men and behind them walk the women, children, and the dogs of the band. They have been traveling for two days and shortly he, Lieutenant Murray, will have completed his mission. Mendota is coming into sight.
The Wahpekute are already in camp and the Wasichu tents are set up and waiting, however, except for soldiers, there are no Wasichu in sight. Thinking there might be something amiss, Little Crow in full regalia, a full war bonnet with eagle feathers cascading down his back, shirt and pants made of deer skin, and the claw of a bear strung around his neck, asks Big Eagle to inquire of Lieutenant Murray, “Why the chiefs of the Wasichu are not here? I see only soldiers.”
“The conference does not start until tomorrow. The representatives of the Great Father in Washington will be here in the morning. But I’ve been ordered to show you every consideration, and if there is anything you need you have only to ask.” Before speaking further, Lieutenant Murray points to an area adjacent to the tents. It is roped off with two soldiers guarding it. “That is the food stocks. You may send your people to collect anything that is available. I was told your needs and those of the Wahpekute were anticipated, you should lack for nothing.”
After having been assuaged of his fears that the conclave may have been some sort of trap, Little Crow tells the woman to unload the tepees from the drags and set them up. He then sends Big Eagle, H'da ye yan’kay, (He Runs Rattling) and Hinhankaġa duta, (Red Owl) over to the soldiers guarding the food to secure provisions for the night.
That night as the Wahpekute and Mdewakanton sit around their fires discussing what they might expect from the Wasichus the next day; in a stone house not five miles away, three men sit in front of a fire of their own. They are Alexander Ramsey, Luke Lea and Henry Sibley, Sibley being a fur trader of some repute. He is also a US Congressman and a thief. And they too are discussing the next day and what their plans might be. Or, to be more exact, they are trying to devise an opening gambit for the next day’s assembly.
Sibley: The problem as I see it gentlemen, is how do you get the Indians to sell you their remaining lands in the territory.
Lea: We tell them that because their game is vanishing and the prospect of starvation is on the horizon, we are willing to help them by buying their land.
Sibley: But it is because of us, the White Man that their game is disappearing. The Indians know that, they’re not stupid. Regardless of what you think Mr. Lea.
Lea: Look, we have an Indian problem. And we have the problem of needing their land to accommodate the immigrants that are flowing into the territory everyday. It has been decided in Washington that the best way to solve both problems is to acquire their lands and use their money to turn them from savages into farmers. There are only a few thousand savages … all right Mr. Sibley, I see that look on your face, from now I’ll refer to them as Indians … there are only a few thousand Indians in the Territory, and it is Washington’s intent to turn them to farming. Once the land is ours, each head of household will be offered eighty acres and the Indians will be paid the annuity owed them for their lands in mostly farming tools, seed and whatever else farmers need. The Indians will need to be taught how to farm, so men will be hired to teach them and the cost will be deducted from future annuities. It’s a brilliant scheme gentlemen. We open up a whole new territory for settlement and turn savages, I mean Indians, into law abiding farmers, using their own funds.
Sibley: Mr. Lea, for a Commissioner of Indian Affairs you sure don’t know much about Indians. You ever meet one?
Ramsey: All right gentlemen, let’s not get personal. There is too much at stake here. If we cannot convince the Indians to sell, we may have to call in the army to protect the settlers. Remember more than a few of the immigrants are squatting on Indian land. And the Indians are not going to starve to death without putting up some sort of fight. Gentlemen, if in the next few days we fail to obtain a signed treaty granting us the lands owned by the Sioux it may mean war, so let’s devise our plan without further acrimony.
The men talk into the night and in the end it is decided that the best approach is tell the Indians that the Great Father in Washington is only interested in their well being and has decided to buy their lands so that they, the Indians, will have the wherewithal to purchase food from the traders at the agency. And if that does not induce the Indians to sell their lands, then it will be implied that soldiers can be sent to drive them away.
The next morning as the sun was coming up over the small plain adjacent to the Minnesota River that would host the conference, the first of the Wasichus started to arrive. Of course the traders were well represented, followed by land speculators and attorneys. Settlers from the surrounding countryside had loaded themselves onto the family wagon and were arriving in droves.
The Santee Sioux watched the arrivals with interest. Many wondered why the Wasichus were in such a festive mood.
As the early morning progressed, more soldiers appeared and went about setting the stage for the impending congress. Ten chairs where set up half way between the tents of the Wasichus and the tepees of the Sioux. They were arranged in a semi-circle facing the tepees. Shortly thereafter a wagon rolled up to the tents. It was filled cases of champagne.
When the sun was directly overhead, in rode the men who were charged with stealing the remainder of the Sioux’s land; Alexander Ramsey and Luke Lea. Henry Sibley and three other traders rode in with them.
The negotiators ensconced themselves in the largest tent and send for Lieutenant Murray. “Lieutenant,” said Alexander Ramsey, “please extend our felicitations to Little Crow, Red Leaf (Wapa sa, chief of the Wahpekute) and their headmen, and invite them over here for a glass of champagne before the conference begins.” “Yes sir,” said the lieutenant.
The tent proved too small for everyone. Little Crow’s council consisted of fourteen and Red Leaf’s eleven. So the group adjourned outside where the chairs had been set up. Of the ten chairs three were taken by Lea, Ramsey and Sibley. Three others had traders from nearby agencies sitting in them. And three were occupied by attorneys on staff at the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Washington. The last chair was sat In by Hugh Tyler, secretary to Ramsey. With the Wasichus in the chairs and the Indians seated on the ground, the mess sergeant and two orderlies handed out glasses of champagne.
“May I propose a toast?” announced Ramsey, “To our brothers the Sioux.” When Big Eagle had finished translating Ramsey’s words, he said to Little Crow in his native tongue, “It looks like we are in trouble. When a Wasichu calls you brother you better look to your ponies and see if they are all still there.”
When the pleasantries were out of the way, Commissioner Lea suggested they get down to business. He then made a long winded speech. He in effect said that the Great and Generous Father in Washington was willing to buy all their land so they would have money to purchase food and supplies from the traders at the agency. He spoke for fifteen minutes and when his peroration was over, Big Eagle rose to interpret his words. “They want to steal more of our land.” was all he said. Commissioner Lea did not understand what Big Eagle had said; nevertheless he looked hurt that his oratory had been so succinctly condensed.
The negotiations took three days. Or more aptly, the coercion took three days. The Indians did not want to sell any land to the Wasichu, let alone all their remaining land. And if they did want to sell land, they would not sell it to the Americans who have not lived up to a treaty once. The Indians would agree to terms and the representatives from Washington would agree to the same terms and have the Indians put their mark on the treaty. But when treaty got back to Washington, Congress thought it had the right to alter the terms (always to the United States benefit) and hold the Indians to a treaty they had not agreed to. And to make matters worse, if one band signed a treaty all other bands of the same tribe were expected to adhere to said treaty under penalty of reprisals from the United States Army.
When the Sioux reminded Lea and Ramsey that the Treaty of 1837 was abrogated after the signing, Ramsey acted affronted by such accusations and said, “Everything we promise will be faithfully preformed.”
Still the Sioux refused to sign a treaty giving away their lands. Ramsey decided to try a new tact. “You know if the Great Father wanted you lands, all he would have to do is send in his soldiers. He has many. They are like the leaves on a tree and you are few.”
And Commissioner Lea was a bit more blunt. “If you do not sign, your present annuities may cease altogether. No man puts his foot in his mouth by long talk, but may often get hungry at it. Let Little Crow and the chiefs step forward and sign.”
“If we give you our land where will we live,” asked Little Crow. “We will set aside land for you. It will be reserved for the Santee Sioux only. It is called a reservation. It will be along both banks of the Minnesota River. It will be twenty miles wide, ten on each side and seventy miles long. It will stretch from the Cottonwood River northwest to Lake Traverse. And it will be yours until the grasses no longer grow,” answered Commissioner Lea.
Commissioner Lea offered $1,000.000.00 for their lands. Now to the Sioux $1,000,000.00 or $10,000,000.00, it was all the same. They have no concept of the dollar. And even if they did, they do not expect the Great Father to live up to his end of the bargain.
When Sibley heard the amount offered he rose and asked Commissioner Lea if he might have a word with him in private. Granting Sibley’s request, Lea asked, “What is it, what do you want?” “I want you to give them Indians a fair break. They don’t know what a dollar is. Are you trying to steal their land? If you don’t offer a fairer price I’ll go to the newspapers and tell them what you’re doing. No… I’ll tell the Indians and then you’ll never get your treaty.”
So instead of four cents an acre, the Sioux were promised six cents an acre for land that was worth at least a dollar an acre. And don’t think old Henry Sibley was being altruistic. He was a trader first and foremost. The more money the Sioux received meant the more money that would go into Henry Sibley’s pockets. In the end, the amount specified on the treaty was $1,410,000.00.And the Santee Sioux, never did see all of the monies promised. In fact, in the end, they saw very little of what was owed them.
Knowing they had no choice, Little Crow and Red Leaf affixed their marks, followed by their councils. They signed two copies, one for Washington and one for themselves. However, Sibley and the other traders had the chiefs sign another document, telling them it was a third copy. It was not; it was a lie and became known as the traders’ paper. It stated that certain amounts, alleged debts, were owed by the Indians and the signees pledged to pay those debts. It also authorized the government to pay the traders directly from all future annuities. No receipts were needed, no proof whatsoever. Whatever the traders said was owed, was owed. And when the traders were finished taking theirs, Ramsey and his secretary jumped in and took theirs. Ramsey charged the Indians (unbeknownst to the Indians) a fifteen percent fee for negotiating the treaty, to be deducted from the Sioux’s first payment. Right off the top, so to speak. Then because everyone else was sucking at the teat, Hugh Tyler charged the Sioux $55,000.0 for getting the treaty they did not want to sign ratified by the Senate. How much Tyler actually influenced the Senate is not known and is academic; he got his off the top also.
The Sioux could expect their first payment (what was left after Ramsey, Tyler and the traders were paid) in one year’s time. However, the land speculators and the settlers were on the land and building houses before the Wahpekute and Mdewakanton returned to their villages.
Now if you think the Sioux, more particularly the Santee Sioux, were ill treated up to now you would be correct. But within one year of being forced to sell their land there was a new outrage in the offing. A year after signing the treaty the US Senate finally got around to ratifying it. During the process the provision calling for a Sioux homeland vis à vis the reservation was struck from the treaty.
Almost one year to the day of the signing of the Treaty of Mendota, Governor Ramsey asked for a meeting with Little Crow and Red Leaf to explain the Senate’s action. He had already met with the Sisseton and Wahpeton chiefs. Red Leaf traveled to Little Cloud’s village on the appointed day and together they awaited the arrival of Governor Alexander Ramsey. The same man who said to their faces, “Everything we promise will be faithfully preformed.”
When he arrives he is met with courtesy and respect. As are all guest of the Dakota. By this time Little Crow knows the Wasichu tongue and Red Leaf has spoken English for years, so there is no interpreter needed. The three men retire to Little Crow’s lodge where the sacred pipe is proffered to Governor Ramsey.
Ramsey hands the pipe to Red Leaf and says, “My friends, something has come up and I need you, no I ask you, to sign an amended treaty to the one we signed last year. Little Crow looks at Red Leaf and Red Leaf looks at Little Crow. The unsaid communication is, “What are the Wasichu up to. We have no more land, what can they possibly want from us now?”
Ramsey is explaining that the clause establishing a reservation for the Sioux has been eliminated from the original treaty and that is why he has come, to have them sign the amended treaty when Red Leaf stands, and looking down at the Governor of the Minnesota Territory says, “There is one more thing that our Great Father can do. Gather us all together on the prairie and surround us with soldiers and shoot us down.”
Ramsey is speaking fast and loose. He tells the chiefs that everything will be worked out. They still have not moved onto the reservation and he tells them the land is theirs, but it might take awhile for the government to put it in writing. Of course Red Leaf asked the obvious question. “Why is not the ownership of our land in the paper you have brought us to sign today?”
It is a pertinent question and right to the point. The truth of the matter is that the Wasichus in Washington do not know where else to relocate the Sioux. So it was thought best to allow them to move to the banks of the Minnesota River … for the time being. They can always be moved somewhere else if and when that land becomes desirable.
The two chiefs sign the treaty. And start moving their people to land that can be taken away from them at any time. What else can they do?
The Santee Sioux settle along the south bank of Minnesota River. The Sisseton’s and Wahpeton’s are farther north and the Mdewakanton and Wahpekute set up their villages by the Redwood River to the south. To manage the Indians and the reservation, two agencies are established. The first is at the confluence of the Minnesota and Yellow Medicine Rivers. It is known as the Upper Agency or the Yellow Medicine Agency and it will oversee the Sisseton and Wahpeton. The Lower Agency is located on the Redwood River and is known as the Redwood Agency. It will handle the Mdewakanton and Wahpekute.
Five years later the Wasichu are back. Now they want half of the reserve, the part that is on the north side of the Minnesota River; almost one million acres. Though the reservation was not in the Treaty of 1851 and the United States could “legally” expropriate the land, it was thought a token payment would look better all the way round. So, after bringing Little Crow and the other chiefs to Washington and three months of negotiations (coercion), the Sioux were paid $266,880.00 for the land; about twenty seven cents an acre for land that was assessed at five dollars per acre.
However, the Sioux did not even see that paltry amount. By the time the traders descended on the agencies waving their traders’ paper, claiming alleged debts, there was nothing left. Sibley alone claimed $145,000.00!
Tatanka Nazin (Standing Buffalo), the chief of the Sisseton, probably said it best when he said:
“My Great Father was to give me money and goods. I know my Great Father is good and that he wishes only my good, but some of his children are not all as good as him. They are traitors. I was to receive a great quantity of money every year. The money left the hands of my Great Father but in passing from hand to hand, each one taking his part, nothing reached my hand more than a dollar. My heart was sad in seeing that.”
As Little Crow left the signing ceremony, the words of Luke Lea reverberated in his mind, “… it will be yours until the grasses no longer grow.”

It is the Moon of the Changing Season (October) in the Winter of Outrage (1858) and there is no migration to hunt the buffalo this winter. There are no buffalo to hunt. Some of the Sioux have gone the way of the Wasichu. They have become farmers. They have adopted the dress of the Wasichus, pants and shirts, and they have cut their hair. They are known to those who still live the old way as “cut hairs.” Some call them “Corn Indians” or “Farmer Indians” because they raise crops, primarily corn. Those who adhere to the traditional ways of the Dakota are called “Blanket Indians.”
Yellow Hair’s son is now seven winters old. He and Suni are raising him in the old ways. He will not be a “cut hair.” Little Good Thunder and Yellow Hair are down by the river testing Good Thunder’s new bow that he father has made for him. Along with the bow Yellow Hair also has fashioned a quiver and six blunt arrows.
“But father, why can I not have arrows that will kill game?” “When you can hit what you are shooting at six times out of six we will make you some hunting arrows. But for now you must practice, soon I will be too old to hunt and your mother and I will depend on you to feed us with the game you will bring back from the hunt.” Yes father you are old, but you and mother will always eat as long as I can hunt.”
Smiling at his son, Yellow Hair thinks that maybe at twenty-eight winters he is indeed old. Going out everyday seeking game and finding less and less has made him feel old. As father teaches son the proper way to hold a bow and how much pressure to apply to the string, they look up to see Little Crow and Big Eagle approaching. When Good Thunder sees them he shouts “Grandfather, uncle, look at my bow; I am going hunting!”
Yellow Hair is surprised to see them. They had been gone for almost four moons. “When did you return?” “The agent brought us back this morning,” responded Little Crow, and then added “We went to your lodge and Fighting Woman said you were down here with the little one.”
Big Eagle seemed more interested in the doings of Good Thunder than anything else. After seeing the boy shoot a few arrows at a birch he says, “I worry for our young ones. The old ways are going the way of the buffalo. Will my grandson be just another farmer living in a square lodge? The Wasichus’ lodges are square shaped! How can Wakan Tan’ka reside in a square lodge?” Little Crow and Yellow Hair look at one another knowing what Big Eagle has just said is true. The tepee is round because the father the sun is round, because the mother the earth is round and Wakan Tan’ka lives in both.
Then Big Eagle holds out a hand to his grandson and says, “Come let us go to your mother. As we walk you can tell me what you have been doing while I was away.” In response, Good Thunder collects his arrows, puts them in the quiver, takes his grandfather’s hand and together they start for the village. Looking over his shoulder as he is led away he says, “Father, uncle are you not coming?” “Not right now. I will speak with your father first,” says Little Crow.
As he watched the retreating figures, Yellow Hair asks, “What happened in Washington? Did you enjoy your time there?” We return with bad news Yellow Hair. The men in Washington have taken half of the land left us, all the land north of the river.”
Yellow Hair is stunned at the news. “They cannot do that! It was granted us forever.” “It seems as though nothing is forever where the Wasichus are concerned. They promised payment, but I do not think we will see much, if anything, once the traders are done with us. It is a shame that to live we have to buy our food from them. And all year long they make their marks in their books and when our payment for the land we did not want to sell comes in the Moon of Making Fat they show their books to the agent and he turns over all our gold to them. And we are fortunate to receive a few dollars after a year of waiting.”
Yellow Hair nods in agreement at what Little Crow has said before saying, “I once asked the trader at the agency to see his book. I wanted to see if he was writing down the price he told me my goods cost. But he would not show me. I think it was because he knew I can read and cipher.”
Little Crow shakes his head in sorrow. “Last year I went to Flandrau and complained to him about the trader’s prices but it did no good. All these agents, Murphy, Flandrau, Brown, they are all traders. It seems that after they enrich themselves at our expense the government puts them over us as the Indian Agent. And that Flandrau, he was the worse. After Spirit Lake, he told me if we did not go on the warpath against Inkpaduta he would hold out, and not pay, that year’s payment. And if he did that the trader would not sell to us and we would starve. These are not good men. I find it hard to believe that Wakan Tan’ka lives in them.”
The Spirit Lake of which Little Crow speaks is known in the Wasichu culture as the Spirit Lake Massacre which took place in 1857 (The Winter of the Tall Pines). About forty Wasichu were killed and four women taken captive by hostile Indians. Two of the women were subsequently killed and two were sold to friendly Indians who took them to the agency and turned them over to the agent who paid the ransom.
The Indians who perpetrated the killings were Dakota of the Wahpekute band. Their leader was Inkpaduta (Scarlet Point) and history tells us he was a thoroughly bad egg. However, history is written by the victors. The Indians who rescued the two women were also Dakota.
Inkpaduta had not signed the Mendota Treaty and felt no obligation to abide by it. He and his people are Dakota. They do not live on the reserve and allow the Wasichu to feed them as if they are children or old men. They are warriors first, and they are hunters. They have no use for the Wasichu’s gold.

It is the Winter of No Elk (1854) and Scarlet Point sits in his lodge listening to Wakanhdi O’ta (Many Lightning’s). “I am telling you, your brother Sintomniduta is dead. And so are his wife and five children. They were killed by the whiskey trader Lott and now he has disappeared, he is nowhere to be found.”
Scarlet Point cannot believe the news. “Why just the other day I was playing with his youngest child. Carrying him on my back and pretending to be his pony. When I left their lodge they were gathering to eat. They were laughing and happy even though food was scarce. And now I am told they are all dead at the hands of this Wasichu Lott?”
If Henry Lott had been anywhere in the vicinity he would have only have hours to live. And his death would not have been a pleasant one. However, because he knows not where Henry Lott has gone to, Scarlet Point decides to see if the Wasichu are indeed the men of honor and of laws as they have claimed.
Scarlet Point is standing before Major Quinn. “I demand justice for my brother and his family” Major Quinn who has no great love for Indians wants the bugger out of his office, but he has been ordered to give lip service to the concerns of the savages. “What can we do? Lott is gone, but if he is ever found we will bring him to trial.” “Then I will speak with the general if you will do nothing.” Quinn does not want to hear this. Going over his head and bringing the general into this may be bad for his career. “All right, we can indict him and try him in absentia. Do you know what that means?” “Does mean you will hunt him down and kill him?” “No, not exactly … we will put him on trial and if he is found guilty and if he is ever found he will be punished.” “If … if … if, if I had killed seven Wasichus you would hunt me into the sacred hills. There would be no trial, there would only be my dead body.” In disgust, Scarlet Point leaves the major’s office.
To protect his career, Major Quinn appoints Granville Berkley as prosecuting attorney. The trial is a farce. And to show where he really stands in relation to the Indians, Berkley skewers Sintomniduta’s head to a pole and places it over his, Berkley’s, house.
It is now the Winter of Many Snows (1856) and Scarlet Point and his band have been living off the land as the Dakota have done since time immemorial. But it is hard. To live they must steal cattle and food from the Wasichu settlers. At one point after a foray to obtain food they are caught by the local militia led by a Captain Smith. Smith demands that the Indians turn over their firearms. It is winter and Scarlet Point tells Smith that his people will starve without guns to hunt with. It makes no difference to Captain Smith. He takes the Dakota’s guns and leaves them to fend as best they can. A winter and a moon later, it is the Moon of the Dark Red Calves (February 1857) and one of the band tries to steal livestock from a Wasichu. He is shot, killed and decapitated. By now Scarlet Point and his people have had enough of the Wasichus. Even though they are starving and forced into stealing in order to eat, they have not killed anyone … yet.
A few weeks after his brave was decapitated, Scarlet Point and his band reach Spirit Lake. The lake is sacred; Wakan Tan’ka resides in the lake. No one may fish or even place a canoe onto the sacred waters. And here are the hated Wasichu living right on its very shores. “It is bad enough what they have done to my people, but the affront to you Wakan Tan’ka is unforgiveable, “ It is the last straw for Scarlet Point. That is when the killings begin.
After the killings, the band is pursued by the army, but because of the heavy blanket of snow on the ground the army is forced to return to the fort. When Scarlet Point and his band come into the vicinity of the Upper Agency, Flandrau tells Little Crow to apprehend the renegade or risk losing that year’s annuities.
Against his wishes and his better judgment, Little Crow gathers his warriors and goes after the Wahpekute band and their leader Scarlet Point. It is the Moon of the Red Grass Appearing (April) and the snow has abated somewhat. Yellow Hair has been made a war chief because of his many coups. He is leading one group of braves while Little Crow and his men ride a mile to the east in an effort to out flank the Wahpekute. However, the band is not camped where they are thought to be. Yellow Hair and his men practically stumble upon them in the early morning while dew is still on the ground and on the leaves.
A short battle ensues, but the Mdewakanton’s hearts are not in the fight. They manage to kill three of the Wahpekute before retreating. Yellow Hair understands and does not try to rally his men for another charge. He feels as they do, if the agent wants Scarlet Point then let him send the army to capture him. Yellow Hair sends out a scout to locate Little Crow and tell him that the battle is over, that he and his men are returning to the village. Upon hearing Yellow Hair’s message, Little Crow also turns for home.
When Little Crow reports back to Flandrau, the agent harangues the Dakota chief to mount another expedition and go after Scarlet Point, but to no avail. Little Crow tells him he can do what he wishes concerning that year’s annuity. “The traders see all the gold and all we see are strange markings in a black book.” He then walks out of Flandrau’s office feeling like a Dakota chief, which is the first time in a long time that he has felt as such.

That was one winter ago and now Yellow Hair and Little Crow stand on the south bank of the Minnesota River looking at one another and then Yellow Hair inquires, “What do you need of me? If we have lost half the reservation there is nothing I can do about it.” “Yes my friend I know. But I have got to tell the people of our village and I would like you by my side when I do so. I am afraid that the young braves might do something foolish. I know they yearn to go on the warpath. But you are much respected in our band as a warrior. Your coups are many and they are still talked about around the fires at night. If you council peace they will listen. In me they see an old man who gives too much to the Wasichu. But they have not seen what you and I have seen. They bring me to Washington to show me their might, and if that was not enough, this last time I was brought to New York, the great city. I have seen as you have that the Wasichus are as many as the blades of grass on the prairie.”
That night Little Crow told his people that their world had been cut in half. And as he expected, the young braves were most unhappy about it and said so. He tried to tell them that he had no choice but to accede to the new treaty. But the young ones saw only a tired old man. Then Yellow Hair told those assembled that Little Crow fought long and hard to preserve the north bank of the river. That he spent three moons in Washington, away from his home and wives fighting the Wasichu, but in the end they, the Wasichus, were going to have our land.
“If they want it let them fight for it,” shouted Kicking Bear, a brave of twenty-one winters. When the other braves heard what he had said, shouts went up from around the fire. The young braves were working themselves into a frenzy and if they were not stopped, and stopped soon, they would be down to the agency looking for blood before anyone could stop them.
Yellow Hair: You know me. You know I have won many coups in battle. I am not afraid to fight. Yes we can attack the Wasichu’s fort (Fort Ridgely) and we can be victorious. We can come back here and have the Killdance. Stay up all night telling of our coups and in the morning go to sleep thinking that we have won the battle or the war, over the Wasichu. But I tell you this. Within a moon more Wasichu soldiers will descend on us than can be counted. Little Crow and I have see their numbers and they are many. It is true that the Long Knives are in a great war against themselves (The Civil War), but they are as numerous as the stars in the sky. They can send thousands of soldiers to kill us and our families and it would not be noticed by the generals.”
Yellow’s Hair’s speech had the desired effect. The hot heads cooled down and were reduced to mumbling among themselves. And the tribe was forced to accept the loss of the north bank.
A winter passes and there is less and less to hunt with the coming of every sunrise. Yellow Hair and Suni are in the woods with Good Thunder searching for ash saplings in which to make the boy’s hunting arrows. As they watch him run from sapling to saplings as Running Close had done years earlier, Yellow Hair turns to Suni and says, “I thank Wakan Tan’ka that Good Thunder is only old enough to hunt muskrats. By the time he is big enough to hunt elk and deer there will be none. There may be none by next winter.”
Suni takes Yellow Hair by the hand saying, “Come, let us not think of that now. Our son is standing over there waiting. See the smile on his face? He is about to hunt his first animal and is happy. That is what we should think on this day. A boy’s first hunt is very important. We have arrows to make and while we make them we will show him how, so he can make his own in the future. Then you and he will go out and hunt muskrats. It is the father that must teach the son how to hunt.”
Yellow Hair smiles at Suni before saying, “You are right, Good Thunder will be a great hunter. He will learn from me and I learned from the best; you my dear wife.” He then leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. Seeing this, Good Thunder yells out, “Father, mother, hurry it is getting late!”
Three more winters pass. It is the Winter of the Red Bird (1861) and a new agent is appointed to manage the reservation. His name his Thomas Galbraith; though he refers to himself as Major Galbraith, he is not a major of anything. He thinks the title will give him more authority over the Indians. He is an arrogant man of a punctilious nature. It is he more than anything else that will be the cause of the deaths that soon will transpire.
He takes residence at the Upper Agency at Yellow Medicine and from there he is hell-bent on instituting the government’s policy of turning the Indians from their traditional ways to farming. Those that take the offer of land, cut their hair, wear the clothes of the White Man and send their children to the Christian missionary school are treated differently than the “Blanket Indians.” When food is in short supply the cut hairs are given food from the stores at the agency. The blankets are told to hunt if they are hungry. This practice results in resentment toward the farmer Indians from the Dakota who have not abandon their tribal lifestyle and customs.
In the Moon of the Frost in the Tepees (January) of the Winter of Distress (1862), the snow is deep upon the land. There is no game to hunt and the people are hungry on the Dakota reservation. By the Moon of the Red Grass Appearing (April), the people have killed and eaten their ponies and dogs to stay alive. However, the people believe relief is at hand. The yearly food stores have arrived from the government and the gold of their annuity should be here any day now.
It is the practice, if not the rule, that the food and the gold be distributed together. And if not for the war, the traders might have let some food out of the stores. But rumors abound that there may not be a payment this year. It is said that the government needs all its gold to fight the war, and besides the North is losing. General McClellan is losing battle after battle even though the Army of the Potomac has superior numbers to anything that Lee muster against it. At least that is what is being said at the agencies this winter.
And if it is true that there will be no payment this year, why should the traders give away food for nothing. There was after all the expense of purchasing it and transporting it all the way out here to the fringes of civilization. So what if a few Indians starve to death. Business is business.

The man and woman are standing over their son, looking down at him as he sleeps. Then the man speaks, “I am not going to raise my son in this manner. He goes to bed hungry every night when there is a warehouse filled with food, filled with flour, pork and sugar not two miles from here. I have been reduced to trading my gun for food. And you my beautiful wife are forced to dig roots to feed our son. Now I have no gun and there are very few edible roots left. However, we still have our ponies and those we will not eat! We will need them to get us to the western lands. I am told that there are still buffalo and elk on the western plains. And the Wasichus have not yet settled there. We will have a few years to raise Good Thunder in the ways of the Dakota before the Wasichu arrive, and arrive they will. But when they do we will move on to Grandmother’s land.” (Queen Victoria’s Canada).
“Yes my husband, this place is no longer for us. It is no longer my home. It is a prison. A prison where the jailer will not feed his prisoners.”
At the same time that Suni and Yellow Hair were discussing their future, the Wahpekute from Yellow Medicine are approaching the Upper Agency. It is their intent to ask the agent Galbraith to open the warehouse that is filled with stores and distribute the food. They and their families are starving. The babies have distended stomachs from lack of food. They are suffering from malnutrition and they cry at night from hunger.
It is the middle of the Moon of Making Fat (June). The Indian Agent listens to their plea and then tells them that there will be no food allotment until the annuity arrives.“And when will that be?” asks Wakan o żan (Medicine Bottle). “Any day now,” answered the agent. “Now return to your homes and be patient. No food can be given until the annuity arrives.”
The next morning, fearing the Indians might return and cause trouble, Galbraith sends to Fort Ridgely for help. Two companies totally one hundred men are dispatched to the agency to protect the property and persons under the auspice of the United States Government. They are led by Lieutenant Timothy Sheehan.
Three week after being told to leave the agency and go home to await the arrival of the annuity the Dakota return in great numbers and this time they have no intention of leaving without food. Lt. Sheehan knowing that his hundred men will not prevail if hostilities break out, persuades Galbraith to distribute some food. But he only gives enough to keep body and soul together for a few weeks.
However, the food is distributed only to the Wahpekute. The Redwood Dakota know nothing of the confrontation between Galbraith and the Wahpekute. And the young men of the Mdewakanton down at Redwood have had enough.

The morning after the Wahpekute receive the small allotment of food, a voice calls from outside Yellow Hair’s lodge. “Yellow Hair, it is Śake han’ska (Long Claws) may I enter?” “Yes, please come in.” Upon entering Long Claws sees Fighting Woman and tells her that he is honored to be in her lodge. The young men of the village are in awe of Fighting Woman and Yellow Hair because of their many coups.
After Long Claws sits down opposite Yellow Hair he says, “We have decided that the time has come to do something. We can no longer allow our mothers and our sisters and our little brothers to go hungry. We are forming a Soldiers’ Lodge and we plan to stop the traders from talking our gold when it comes.”
When Long Claws is finished speaking, Yellow Hair glances at Suni. He says nothing, but he wants to know what she thinks of what Long Claws has just said. He does not intone his question. A brave does not ask his woman’s opinion in matters of this sort, especially not in front of another brave.
Suni knows the questions on Yellow Hair’s mind. “Do you think this is a good idea?” And, “Should I get involved?” In response, she smiles and nods once. The interplay between husband and wife is so subtle and quick, Long Claws misses it entirely.
Yellow Hair turns to Long Claws and says, “First I must ask you of who you speak when you say ‘we’?” “We are the young men of the village. The old men are like women. All they do is please the Wasichu.” “Why have you come to me?” “We want you to lead us. None of us have been into battle, we have no coups. By the time we came of age there were no more battle to be fought.” How many are you?” “At least one hundred and half that much more, will you lead us Yellow Hair?”
Yellow Hair is now thirty-two winters old and is not as rash acting as he was a few winters ago. Before committing himself he wants to meet with those that will form the Soldiers’ Lodge. “Call your braves together and we will meet tonight at the council fire. Then I will give you my answer.”
Long Claws smiles at Fighting Woman and Yellow Hair and says, “Good, we will see you tonight.” As he is leaving Yellow Hair calls out, “Tell me one thing.” “Yes, if I can.” “What do you want to do after you get the gold from the traders?” “I thought you knew Yellow Hair. We want war. We want to kill all the long knives and all the Wasichu.”
When Long Claws has gone, Yellow Hair says to Suni, “I will have to lead them. If I do not they will get themselves killed and probably destroy the village. You know how the Wasichu blame all Dakota for the acts of a few.”
That night almost one hundred and fifty braves are gathered to hear what Yellow Hair has to say. The oldest is twenty-six winters, the youngest is fourteen winters. Many of the young men of the Mdewakanton have left the reservation and have gone west to live with their brothers the Lakota. The Lakota do not live on a reserve, at least not yet.
Yellow hair has told Little Crow of the meeting and asked him to keep the older men and the women away. “I hope to lead them off the warpath, but if there are others looking on they may feel that they must cry out for war or otherwise they might look like cowards.” Little Crow agrees, and says, “See what you can do. If the Wasichus are attacked, Galbraith will call in the soldiers. The payment will be here any day now then this talk of war will be forgotten.”
The young braves sit around the council fire talking among themselves. The mood is almost joyous. Occasionally a war whoop is heard. Yellow Hair sits by himself and says nothing. He is staring into the fire and thinking. He will say nothing until the men quiet down.
Slowly the noise abates and one by one those around the fire fall silent. When there is absolute quiet except for the crackling of the fire, Yellow Hair stands and tells those assembled, “My name is Yellow Hair. I was once a Wasichu, but now Damakota (I am Dakota). When the braves hear those words a cheer erupts from around the fire. Yellow Hair holds up his hands, palms outward until again there is silence. As he slowly lowers his arms he says, “What has been done to the Dakota cannot be forgiven. It is time to take action. I know how your young blood yearns for battle. How you dream of striking the enemy, how you want to kill those that have treated us and our people so badly and have made us hungry. I too am angry, but getting ourselves killed and our village destroyed is not smart. I know you look around and see that there are not many soldiers; that most have gone off to fight in the Great Father’s war. You think that if we go on the warpath there will be no one to oppose us but farmers. But I tell you the Great Father has many soldiers and if we give cause he can send many here to fight us and never miss them.”
Yellow Hair stops speaking to let his words be understood. And then he continues, “Yes, I will lead you. Yes, we will take our gold from the traders and we will take the food that is rightfully ours. But if I lead, you must follow. When we fight it will not be in the old way. Coups do not matter when your family is hungry. We will not fight for coups. We will fight for our dignity. We will fight for food. We will fight because we are Dakota!”
The aggregation jumps to its feet and cheers. Some raise tomahawks or knives over their heads and shake them at the night sky. This time the cheering is drawn out and Yellow Hair does nothing to curtail it. Instead he stands erect, arms folded across his chest and looks at the young faces that are illuminated by the firelight.
Eventually the cheering and whooping dies down and Yellow Hair tells his men to sit down. “If I am to lead you remember this. The Dakota do not make war on women and children. That was the old way. We, you and I, are the new way. He sees a few nods of agreement, but not many. Old ways die hard.
“Tomorrow Long Claws and I will go to the soldiers’ fort. We will scout and learn if the soldiers will oppose us and side with the traders. This we must know before we can make our plan. Now go to your lodges and tie your ponies’ tails for war. When I am ready I will call for you and I promise it will not be long. Yellow Hair sends his men on their way by shouting blihéic iya po (take courage).
The next day Yellow Hair and Long Claws ride over to Fort Ridgely to speak with Captain John Marsh. “Thank you for seeing us Captain.” Hell man, I’ve been wanting to meet you since I first heard about the White Sioux with yellow hair. You’re kind of well known in these parts, but no one ever sees you.” “Sir I am Dakota and I have come to speak with you on a matter of some import. At least it is important to my people. Some Wasichu, I mean some Whites, think we Dakota are somewhat less than human. They think that they can steal from us and leave us go hungry. We have put up with it because we knew we could not win in a fight with the Americans. There are just too many of you.” Here Marsh interrupts and states, “You’re an American aren’t you?” “I told you I am Dakota! Please allow me to finish.” “Yes, I’m sorry, go right ahead.” “We were forced to sell our land at the point of a gun. And then we were moved to a reserve, then half the reserve was taken from us. The men from Washington tell us we are well paid for our land and should have no complaints. They tell us we were treated fairly. I ask you, is it fair to threaten someone to sell something they do not want to sell? Is it fair to offer three cents an acre for land that is worth over a dollar an acre? Is it fair to give the money to thieves masquerading as traders? Is it fair that we are now reduced to starving? Is it fair that our babies, our children, cry out for food that we do not have because it is in a storehouse and the agent refuses to give it to us because the men in Washington are late in sending our yearly payment for the land that they stole from us?” Finishing, Yellow Hair looks straight into Captain Marsh’s eyes and waits for answers to his questions.
Before responding, Marsh looks at Yellow Hair and shakes his head and then a broad grin forms on his face. “Sir that was some speech, you ever think of running for congress?” Yellow Hair does not see the humor and is just about to say so when Marsh raises his hand and says. “Don’t take any offence. I was only joking. I happen to agree with you. Tell me, why have you come to see me?”
Yellow Hair is pleased at Marsh’s attitude, pleased and surprised. “Sir I have one, and only one, question for you.” Alright, let’s hear it.” “Will you send soldiers after us if we stop the traders from taking our gold this year?” “You mean that’s it, that’s all you want to know?” “Yes sir that is all I want to know.” “No, we will not come after you. My boys are soldiers, not collection agents.”
As they ride back to the reservation Yellow Hair tells Long Claws, “Pass the word that when the gold arrives and we are summoned to the agency, for all to be ready for war. We will surround the traders; they will be there with their books as they are every year. We will put them under arrest and take the books and burn them. Then we will tell Galbraith that the gold belongs to us and we are taking it. And before we leave we will tell the traders that if they want to continue to sell to us the prices must be disclosed before hand. If we do not like what they are charging then I will go east and buy food with the gold. We will become our own traders.”
Yellow Hair’s plan was based on the gold arriving within a few days. He had not counted on the dilatory nature of the bureaucrats in Washington. Because of the war the men at the Bureau of Indian Affairs dithered as to what form that year’s annuity should take. Should it be gold or should it be bank notes? By the time they came down on the side of gold, the Dakota on the reservation were starving and the seeds of rebellion were planted, had sprouted and were bearing fruit. And another war was about to break out.

On the morning of 4 August 1862 two braves ride into the Yellow Medicine agency and ask for Lieutenant Sheehan. When Sheehan presents himself he is told that shortly many more braves will be riding into the agency shooting their guns into the air. The two braves want to reassure the soldiers that the demonstration is to be a peaceful one. They, the braves, are angry that so much food that is rightfully theirs stays behind locked doors when their women and children are going hungry.
A few minutes later hundreds of Dakota ride into the agency whooping and shouting and firing their guns into the air. One group peels off and rushes the warehouse where the food is stored. Tate Mima (Round Wind) and Yellow Hair raise axes over their heads and bring them down on the warehouse door. It splits open and the men pour into the warehouse. The other Dakota cover the soldiers with their guns. They outnumber the soldiers eight to one.
Praise must be given to Lieutenant Sheehan. For when he sees that the Dakota are only after food, he orders his men to stay their fire. But he has his orders. He knows the Indians respect the power of his cannons so he has one aimed at the warehouse where the Indians are busy loading a wagon they had brought with them. That gets their attention and stops their endeavors. As the soldiers and the Dakota stare at one another over the barrels of their guns, but at an impasse, Lieutenant Sheehan goes to find Galbraith.
“Listen Agent Galbraith …” “It’s Major Galbraith.” Sheehan thinks to himself, “Of all the pompous jackasses I’ve ever known …” But aloud he says, “Major Galbraith we have a situation here. The Indians are hungry, they greatly outnumber my men and I do not believe they are going to leave this agency until they have secured what they have come for, or until they and many of my soldiers are dead.” “I am sorry Lieutenant but rules are rules. The food cannot be allocated until the annuity arrives. I’ve already been very magnanimous by allowing food to the savages on a previous occasion. But this time I must be firm, no food, and especially at the point of a gun. Why I would lose all control over the Indians if I were to relent now.” “How much control do you think you’ll bring to bear with your scalp hanging in some Indian’s tepee?” And without waiting for an answer, Lieutenant Sheehan turns his back on Agent Galbraith and calls to his sergeant, “Allow the Indians to finish loading that one wagon and then send a rider to the fort and have him report to Captain Marsh what has happened here and ask him to come immediately.” Turning back to Galbraith he says, I’m taking it upon myself to allow the Indians to take enough food to last them twenty-four hours. I will ask them to return tomorrow with their chiefs so that this may be worked out. By then Captain Marsh will be here and thankfully it will be his problem.
The next morning, well before the sun is overhead, a group of Dakota ride into the Yellow Medicine Agency. They are led by Little Crow and Big Eagle from the lower agency and Medicine Bottle from the upper. Also in attendance is John Williamson, a missionary who had lived among the Dakota for many years and spoke their language. John Myrick the trader is also present along with the agency’s interpreter, Peter Quinn. There are also a few of the other, smaller traders, but because Myrick is the largest and does more business than all of them combined, they, the smaller traders, defer to him.
The Wasichus and the Dakota are congregated in the agency’s office and Galbraith opens the meeting by stating imperiously, “I want it on the record that this meeting is taking place only at the insistence of the army. Now what is it that you Indians want?” Quinn starts to put Galbraith’s words into the Dakota language when Little Crow stops him by saying, “We understand what was said. We also understand the meaning behind the words. You ask us what we want. I will tell you Mr. Indian Agent.” Before continuing, Little Crow looks at each Wasichu directly in the eye and then says, “We have waited a long time. The money is ours, but we cannot get it. We have no food, but there are these stores, filled with food. We ask that you, the agent, make some arrangement by which we can get food from the stores, or else we may take our own way to keep ourselves from starving. When men are hungry they help themselves.”
After Little Crow’s statement, the smaller traders speak among themselves and then look to Myrick for guidance, but he sits impassively looking straight ahead saying nothing.
Galbraith feeling that he must take charge, he cannot have a savage speak to him in such a manner, says, “You have been promised a payment this year and it will eventually arrive, but until it does, I cannot dispense any more of the food stores. If you had taken up farming you wouldn’t be hungry. You notice that your brothers who farm are not starving.”
Big Eagle can stand it no longer and says, “They are not hungry because you give them food. You want us to know that if we too cut our hair and wear the clothes of the Wasichu that we also could have food from the stores that you say cannot be given out. The Wasichus are always trying to make us give up our life and live like them, go farming, work hard, and do as they do, and we do not know how to do that, do not want to do that anyway. It seems too sudden to make such a change. If the Dakota had tried to make the Wasichus live like them, they would have resisted, and it is the same way with us.”
Galbraith replies, “Go home, the monies will be here any day now, then you can have the food.” This prompts Medicine Bottle to speak for the first time, “We cannot eat lies!”
Myrick looks to the traders and says, “It’s up to you now, what do you want to do?” After conferring among themselves the spokesman for the group says, “Whatever you say we’ll go along with.”
Myrick, when he hears this, stands and makes for the door without speaking. But Galbraith stops him by saying, “I insist you give us your decision before you leave.” Turning in the doorway Myrick looks directly at Little Crow and says, “So far as I am concerned, if they are hungry, let them eat grass or their own dung.” And without another word he turns and walks out, but he leaves a very quiet room behind.
No one says a word for a few moments, but when Myrick’s words sink in, when the Dakota realize that that is the best that they can expect from the Wasichus, they rise, say a few choice words to Galbraith in their own language that Quinn refuses to interpret, and follow Myrick out of the building.
When Captain Marsh hears what Myrick had said and sees the look on the Indians faces as they leave the meeting he knows there will be trouble if he does not act in a decisive manner. His one hundred men will be no match against a thousand hungry Indians who will also be fighting for the lives of their women and children. So he walks over to the Indians and asks them to wait a moment before leaving.
Captain Marsh storms into the building where Galbraith and the traders are still conferring and says in a very calm, but nevertheless menacing voice, “I order you to release to the Indians all the food that you are hoarding. And if any man jack of you so much as looks at me in a wrong way I’ll put you the whole lot of you under arrest!” Thus Captain Marsh avoids bloodshed, however blood will flow, but no today.
Two weeks later the day is 17 August 1862 or the middle of the Moon of Black Cherries in the winter of Distress as the Dakota would say. The annuity gold is on the last leg of its journey. It is also the day that the Dakota who are also known as the Santee Sioux go to war with the Untied States of America.