Before the sun had crept the width of a lodge pole, Tom Hill called for my father. The colonel would meet Joseph in the space between the two camps.
My father left his rifle pit. With two warriors he walked toward the soldiers' camp. Several Blue Coats walked toward him. General Howard was not with them. One of the officers had silver birds on his shoulder. It was Colonel Miles. Tom Hill walked beside him.
They met in the center of the plain. Chief Joseph laid down his rifle. The warriors placed their rifles on the ground. For a time they talked to the Blue Coats. The colonel waved his arms and pointed at our camp and then behind him. My father shook his head and made the hand sign that means "never."
He turned and began walking back to his rifle pit. The white colonel pulled a pistol from his belt. The other Blue Coats grabbed my father and held his arms in back of him. They shoved him around and marched him back to the soldiers' camp.
Anger rose in my throat. Again the Blue Coats had broken a truce. My father trusted too much, and now he was a prisoner.
Then something strange happened. A white officer rode into our camp. It was a curious thing for him to do.
Yellow Bull acted quickly. As the officer passed him, Yellow Bull grabbed the reins with one hand and pulled the Blue Coat from his horse with the other. Our warriors surrounded the officer and pushed him into the gully where I stood.
The warriors jumped down after him.
"Kill him!" shouted Two Moons. He pulled a knife from his belt and took one step toward the officer.
"Yes, kill the soldier who wars on women and children," said Swan Necklace.
"Kill the soldier who shames the flag of truce," said Ferocious Bear.
The warriors moved closer to the officer. His back was pressed against the wall of earth, but he did not drop his eyes. He looked at Two Moons and his gaze was steady.
Yellow Bull stepped between them. "Wait," he said.
White Bird came through the tunnel. He stood and stretched out his hand. "You are children," he said. "Do not harm this man. As long as he lives, Joseph is safe. When he dies, the Blue Coats will kill Joseph."
Tom Hill, who was back among us, came in from one of the rifle pits. He talked long with the officer and changed his words so we could understand.
The officer's name was Lieutenant Jerome. He had come to see if we were ready to surrender.
White Bird laughed, but it was a dry sound without joy. "This Blue Coat is also a child," he said. "Let him stay in this shelter. Yellow Bull will guard him. Sound of Running Feet will see that he has water and food and a buffalo robe to keep him warm. Those are my words."
The old chief left through the tunnel and worked his way back to the rifle pits. Two Moons beckoned to Swan Necklace and crawled into the tunnel. Before leaving, Swan Necklace turned toward me and put his hand over his heart in the sign of love.
The soldier spent the night wrapped warmly in a buffalo robe. He slept soundly, but Yellow Bull and I did not sleep at all.
When the soldier awoke he washed his hands and face in water that I brought from the stream. He drank two buffalo horns filled with water and ate buffalo meat and cold mush while Yellow Bull and I watched. He walked back and forth, back and forth. Yellow Bull's eyes followed him. He sat with his rifle across his knees. The soldier had no chance to escape, but he showed no fear.
The soldier Jerome pulled a piece of white paper from his pocket. He took out a pencil and made many marks on the paper. Then he called for Tom Hill.
When Tom Hill came into the shelter, the soldier spoke the marks. Tom Hill told us what the marks said. They said that the soldier had good food, a warm bed, and good treatment. He hoped that the Blue Coats were treating Chief Joseph the same way.
White Bird sent Tom Hill to the Blue Coats with the talking paper. Soon Tom Hill was back with a talking paper for the soldier. It said that the white colonel would send my father back to us if we would let the soldier Jerome go free.
"No," said White Bird. "The Blue Coats have tricked us before. They will not trick us again. If the colonel speaks true, he will bring Joseph to the ground where we met before. We will bring the soldier Jerome to the same ground."
Tom Hill put these words so the soldier could understand. He changed them into marks on the paper, and Tom Hill carried it back to the white colonel.
He watched Tom Hill enter the camp of the Blue Coats. We waited. Soon my father walked onto the plain. White officers were on each side of him.
Yellow Bull told the soldier Jerome to climb out of the gully. White Bird and Looking Glass waited for him. Two Moons and Ferocious Bear joined them. All walked out to meet the Blue Coats.
The soldier Jerome shook hands with my father. They changed places. Our chiefs and warriors brought my father back to our camp. The Blue Coats pulled down their white flag and the shooting began.
Nineteen
OUR WARRIORS FOUGHT the rest of that day and the next. They fought with new anger. Chief Joseph had not been treated as an honored prisoner. The Blue Coats tied his hands behind him, then tied his hands to his feet. They rolled him in a blanket like a papoose. He could not stand. He could not walk. He could not use his arms. The white soldiers slept in a tent, but my father lay all night beside the mules, without food or water. He was not untied until the paper that speaks came from the soldier Jerome.
Two suns came and went. We had lost no people since the first day of battle, but food was short. Soon even the children would have to go hungry. We were cold and wet with snow. The cruel wind cut to our very bones. The children cried. The women and old men said nothing, but there was pain in their eyes.
The third sun was a sad time for us. The sadness began in the morning when it grew light and we saw that a party of white soldiers had arrived during the darkness. The one-armed general had joined Colonel Miles. An army of Blue Coats would soon spread across the land.
When the shooting began that morning, the first shells fell among us. During the night the white soldiers had dug a trench for their cannon and the shells no longer struck the bluffs beyond the rifle pits.
Another act of shame. The soldier Jerome knew that no warriors were in the shelter pits. Again they warred on the helpless.
Shells fell among the women and the children, the old men and the wounded warriors. One shell burst in a shelter pit, covering six of our people with earth. We dug fast, scooping away the choking dirt with pots and hats and our hands.
I pulled a small boy from the pit. His eyes and ears and mouth were full of earth and he gasped for air, but he was safe. Others dragged three women to safety. But we could not reach an old woman and her granddaughter. There was too much dirt. Without air, they died.
My father said that we were beaten. The time had come to surrender.
Not everyone agreed. Some of the warriors wanted to charge the Blue Coats. They said the Blue Coats were bad fighters. We might whip them and be free to join Sitting Bull. They would be glad to die for the people.
My father said no. We could not fight the cannon, and there were too many soldiers. All our warriors would die, and the women and children and old men would be at the mercy of the Blue Coats. My father reminded them of what had happened to the women and children at Big Hole. It was better to return to Lapwai and live on the reservation.
Looking Glass said he would never surrender. He looked at my father. "I am older than you," he said. "I know the white generals are men with two faces and two tongues. If you surrender, you will be sorry. It is better to be dead."
White Bird held up his hand. "Looking Glass speaks the truth," he said. "Surrender if you wish. We will not stop you. We will take those who would rather die and strike out for the Old Lady's country."
The council broke up. The sadness was not yet over. A rider on horseback appeared in the distance. Looking Glass believed it was a Sioux scout, part of a band from Sitting Bull. He stepped out of his rifle pit for a close look. A bullet struck him in the head and he fell sprawled and silen
t on the ground.
We had lost another chief. Now only my father and White Bird were left to lead us. My father was not a war chief and White Bird was old.
Under a white flag, my father crossed the plain to the camp of the Blue Coats. The day was gray and he was wrapped in a gray blanket. His head was down. His rifle lay across the saddle. Wearily, he climbed from his horse and walked up to Colonel Miles.
"Let us stop fighting," said Colonel Miles. "No more battles, no more blood."
The one-armed general stood beside him. Ice crystals clung to his beard. "The war is over," he said. "I have lost brothers. Many of you have lost brothers. Do not worry more. It is time for us to rest."
Even with his head bowed, my father towered over General Howard. He drew his blanket closer about him and nodded but did not speak.
Colonel Miles said that he had plenty of food and warm blankets for us. He promised that he would take our people to a nearby camp for the winter. Then we could all go back to our old homes.
The one-armed general watched Chief Joseph and Colonel Miles shake hands. Then my father walked back to his pony and picked up his rifle.
General Howard reached for it.
Chief Joseph pulled back the hand holding the gun. He stood very tall. He looked down at the one-armed general. "I am not surrendering to you," he said. He pointed to Colonel Miles. "This is the man that ran me down."
My father turned to Colonel Miles. He handed him his gun, butt first. Then he stepped back.
"I am tired of fighting," he said. "Our chiefs are killed. Looking Glass is dead. The old men are all killed. He who led the young men is dead. It is cold and we have no blankets. The little children are freezing to death. My people, some of them, have run away to the hills, and have no blankets, no food. No one knows where they are, perhaps freezing to death. I want time to look for my children and see how many of them I can find. Maybe I shall find them among the dead."
He raised his arm. His blanket flapped in the raw wind. "Hear me, my chiefs," he called. "I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever." In sorrow, he drew his blanket over his head.
One by one, our warriors stepped from the rifle pits and filed across the plain. They laid their rifles on the ground in front of the generals.
From the shelter pits came the women and children, followed by the old. Wounded warriors crawled from the pits. Some of them leaned on the women and old men. Some of them crawled on their hands and knees. Slowly, the long lines of people moved across the ground and up the hill.
My heart was filled with sadness. I could not join them. Even when I saw Deer Woman trudge slowly up the hill bearing Bending Willow on her back, I could not join them.
Twenty
THE LIGHT FADED and darkness came as I crouched in the gully. The Blue Coats bandaged the wounds of our warriors and let the people bury our dead. They passed out food and blankets. Smoke rose from cooking fires.
The smell of food filled my mouth with water. I had not eaten for three days. Hungry and cold and sad, I huddled against the dirt wall and shut my eyes.
While my father spoke to the generals, White Bird and a large band of our people had slipped away from the camp and started north. Now they were a long march away.
I must start alone for the Old Lady's country, I told myself. But I would wait until the camp was asleep.
As the night wore on, voices died away. Soon all was quiet. A horse nickered, a man coughed, a baby cried. Nothing more. Still I waited.
I waited until the stars moved the space of my two hands across the heavens. Then I wrapped a pan, a knife, and a buffalo horn for water in my wedding blanket. I crawled to the end of the gully that was farthest from the camp.
As I crept over the dirt, my hand touched something hard and cold. I ran my fingers over the object. It was a rifle. I stuck the barrel through the knot on my bundle and pulled myself out of the gully.
The glow of watch fires outlined the edge of the camp. I crawled to the creek, squeezed through the brush, and let myself over the side. Silent as a snake in a stream, I slid down the bank to the water.
Before I could get up, a strong hand clamped over my mouth. Another hand grabbed my arm. "Quiet!" whispered a rough voice.
Fear struck through me. I did not move.
The hands relaxed their grip. "Are you not going home with Chief Joseph?" asked the voice, gentler now.
I peered through the darkness. It was Swan Necklace. He had not surrendered with the warriors. A burst of joy rose in me.
"I am going to Sitting Bull," I said. "I will never go with the white man."
"Let us start," said Swan Necklace. "Better we die together than trust ourselves to those who speak with two tongues."
We followed the creek until it turned back toward the camp. Then we climbed out of the gully and began to walk toward the star that never moves.
Snow covered the ground. Swan Necklace was still stripped for battle. He had no moccasins. I untied my bundle and cut strips of buffalo hide from the robe. Swan Necklace wrapped his feet in the soft fur and pulled our wedding blanket around his shoulders. He carried our guns and I carried the rest.
We walked until light streaked the sky. My moccasins were worn and my feet ached with cold. Swan Necklace said nothing but his legs were bare.
Swan Necklace found us a protected place out of the wind. While he dug a hollow on the side of the hill, I looked for buffalo chips. They were covered with snow and hard to spot, but I found enough for a small fire.
We rubbed each other's feet to warm them, then huddled beneath the blanket. Heat from the fire spread through us and we slept until the sun was high.
I woke to the touch of Swan Necklace's fingers. He brushed my cheek until my eyes opened. "Wake, my love," he said softly. "We must be on our way."
It was our first good sleep since our people came through the Bear Paws. I scrubbed my face with snow to waken me. We had no food. I cut the elk-hide no fringe from my skirt and we chewed the strips as we walked. It fooled our stomachs for a time.
The going was hard. Cold wind blew down from the Old Lady's country. We had to push hard against it. Its icy fingers poked under our robes and made us shiver.
It was almost dusk when Swan Necklace spotted an antelope searching for grass in the snow. He aimed carefully. The shot echoed through the quiet air and the antelope fell dead.
We ran to where it lay, its blood making a scarlet pool on the snow. Swan Necklace knelt and began to skin the antelope. I pulled out my knife to help him.
Suddenly a hunting party rode over the hill. They galloped toward us. The snow muffled the sound of the horses' hoofs, but the jingle of their bridles sounded loud in my ears. I knew by their rawhide saddles that they were Assiniboins.
My heart beat like a woodpecker pounding on a lodge pole. The Assiniboins were a fierce tribe and made many wars. They had never been our friends. Were they helping the Blue Coats as the Cheyennes and the Crows and the Flatheads had done?
The horses stopped beside us. There were five riders and five extra horses. They had been on a long hunt, and two of the horses carried meat and hides.
Their leader raised his arm in greeting. He had hi been on this earth as many snows as my father. Strips of ermine showed white in his braids. His beaded moccasins were made of soft elkskin. Beneath his saddle was a fine blanket of red wool and otter skins. It was a chiefs blanket. Across his saddle lay an old musket, the kind most of our warriors used before we picked up rifles on the battlefield.
The other four men had no guns. They carried bows made from the horns of mountain sheep. They must have traded with our people for them, because only the Ne-mee-poo made such bows.
The leader made signs to say that all the tribes were brothers. He touched his chest and said his name was Red Elk.
We signed back that we were friends and said our names. We signed that we were fleeing from the Blue Coats and on the way to join Sitting Bull.
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Red Elk nodded. He spoke a few words of our language. With signs and words he told us that the hunting party was on its way to a nearby Assiniboin village. We were welcome to join them.
His words were good but I did not trust him. When Red Elk saw our fine rifles that had once belonged to white soldiers, his eyes gleamed. His eyes followed them as we put them across our saddles. His eyes stayed on them all the way to the Assiniboin village.
Twenty-one
RED ELK RODE into the village. Tipis clustered near a stream and fires burned bright beside them. A vast herd of ponies was tethered beyond the tipis. Women, children, and old men shouted greetings. They came to look at the load of meat and they came to look at us. They stared hard.
A child poked Swan Necklace's foot wrappings with a curious finger. A woman touched my elkskin skirt. The leather was white as snow and it had taken many suns to sew on the blue quills. She rubbed the skirt between her fingers, then frowned when she saw the ragged edges. I was glad that I had cut away the fringe to stay our hunger. It saved my skirt.
Red Elk motioned to Swan Necklace and me. We got off the horses and followed him to his tipi. Children pointed at us as we walked through the village. Dogs barked. I wondered what the Assiniboin would do with us.
At Red Elk's dpi, Alighting Dove, his wife, was cooking. She was a small woman and moved quickly, like a bird. She speared a chunk of antelope meat and placed it over the fire. In a large pot, kouse mush bubbled. The good smell made me feel weak.
Swan Necklace ate with Red Elk and Charging Hawk, his son. Alighting Dove and I brought them food.
Charging Hawk was a young warrior. He had more snows than Swan Necklace but he did not have a wife. He was short and thick through the chest. Pieces of shell from the Land of the Great Waters gleamed green and blue and silver in his braids. He wore fringed leggings and a buckskin shirt trimmed with elk's teeth. On each arm were many copper bracelets.