Thunder Rolling in the Mountains (6 page)

Those whose wounds were not dangerous, we tied onto ponies. I helped White Feather onto her horse. She made a face from pain as I boosted her into the
saddle. Early in the fighting, a bullet struck her in the shoulder. It knocked her to the ground and made her dizzy. She grabbed at something to pull herself up. It was the boot of a Blue Coat. He smashed his rifle butt into her face. The blow split her lip and broke one of her front teeth. Her lip was swollen and she was no longer pretty, but she would live.

Before we started off, we buried many of our dead. As we wrapped them in soft buffalo robes, we wailed songs of mourning. The sounds pierced the air as our loss pierced our hearts. With each one, we buried some of that person's prized possessions—a flute, a necklace, bracelets of copper wire, an embroidered headband. When I helped bury my beautiful mother, my tears fell hot on her wrappings. With knives we dug shallow graves in little ravines along the riverbank. There we placed our dead and pulled earth over them.

Chief Joseph led the women, children, old men, and the rest of our warriors away from Big Hole. White Bird, who was too old to fight, rode with us. The other chiefs stayed to fight. We left many buffalo robes and much food. Our things were scattered on the ground.

We traveled toward the low, rolling hills, then swung south toward the mountains. As we moved away, the sounds of battle grew faint. In the gray dawn, a broad path stretched behind us where our
ponies' feet trampled the grass. The travois poles made furrows in the ground. Our warriors would find it easy to follow.

The morning mists cleared and the summer sun beat down upon us. Clouds of dust rose around the travois. We stopped often to shade the eyes of our wounded and to wet their parched lips. After a long half-sun, we halted at a little stream shaded by willows. The sun was still in the sky, but our wounded could travel no farther.

That night Fair Land died. My father held her hand as she died and he grieved with me. We grieved for my mother, too. As the spirit of Ollokot's wife entered the afterworld, we saw my mother die again.

My father sighed deeply. "We never make war on women and children," he said. "But the Blue Coats kill our women and children first. That is a shameful way to fight."

The war no longer stirred me. Before this we had beaten the Blue Coats with little trouble. Few of our people had been killed. But now we lost many. My heart was wrenched out of me. I feared for Swan Necklace and I feared for my people.

But I could not think about my fears. Bending Willow cried for my mother and for my mother's milk. I fed her soft mush but she spat it out and cried harder. Then Deer Woman knelt by my side. Her baby had been killed by the Blue Coats. She picked
up Bending Willow and held her close, letting her drink the milk that her own baby no longer needed.

We slept little that night. There were many wounded to care for. I carried water, changed bandages, and fed camas mush to those who could eat. I comforted those who cried out in pain.

In the morning, as we were packing the horses, the warriors rode into camp. Swan Necklace was safe.

"Do not fear for me," he said. "Bullets cannot kill me as long as I have my war whistle."

When he went into battle, he sounded his war whistle. It was made from the wing bone of a crane and its piercing cry called Swan Necklace's guardian spirit to protect him.

"Red Moccasin Tops lies dead," I answered.

"His guardian spirit protected him only from wounds on his body," said Swan Necklace. "He was shot in the throat."

"And Wah-lit-its? And Rainbow? And all our other brave warriors who lie dead?"

"Perhaps Wah-lit-its was shot before he could pick up his charm of weasel skin and raven feathers," said Swan Necklace. "Rainbow's guardian spirit protected him in battle only after sunrise. Then he could walk among his enemies. He was struck while the sky was dark."

I wondered at his words and prayed to the Great Spirit Chief to protect him.

We buried Fair Land with her elk-hide dress that she wore on feast days and a shell necklace from the Land of the Great Waters. We wailed songs of grief for her.

Before we left our camp, the War Council met once more. Looking Glass was in disgrace. He had failed the people.

"We have traveled too slowly and have been too careless," said White Bird. "We cannot fight again. If we kill one soldier, a thousand will take his place. But if we lose one warrior, there is no one to take his place."

The council heard his words and chose a new leader. It was Lean Elk, a young warrior with a tight mouth and burning eyes. At noon he sent us south with his burning gaze.

L
EAN
E
LK
kept us on the move. Warriors rode at the head of our band and in the rear. The women, children, and old men rode in the middle with our extra horses. We were on our ponies before daybreak and traveled until the sun was halfway up the sky. Then we stopped to cook a meal. The ponies grazed while we rested. Then we got back into the saddle and traveled again until long after dark. Each sun we journeyed far.

More of our wounded died. Gray Eagle, the father of White Feather, died after three suns. One old woman who had been hit in the belly stayed behind to die alone. She said she could go no farther on a travois. I believe that she felt she slowed our march and endangered the tribe. We laid her in the shade of a willow and left food and a bottle of water beside her.

We crossed the mountains and turned again toward the rising sun. When we rested, we talked. People
talked against the whites and agreed that they were all enemies. Settlers from the Bitterroot Valley had fought beside the soldiers at Big Hole. The same people who had smiled at us and sold us sugar had killed our women and children as they slept. Anger ran deep through the camp.

When our scouts stole horses from the ranches we passed, no Ne-mee-poo said a word against them. The horses we took could not be used by the soldiers who came after us. On one raid for horses, the warriors killed three men on a ranch. But our warriors obeyed Chief Joseph. They did not scalp the dead men. Instead they covered the bodies with blankets. They took no money, only cloth to bandage our wounded.

One morning scouts warned that soldiers were nearby. The one-armed general and his men were at the place we had camped last night, between two clear streams filled with trout. There was shade from cotton woods and willows and deep grass for horses. The soldiers stopped there to rest.

The chiefs called the warriors together. "If the general has no horses, the Blue Coats cannot ride," said Lean Elk.

"If he has no mules, the general will have no wagons. Without wagons, he cannot follow us. Tonight we steal his herds."

That day we rested in the Camas Meadows. The
camas blossoms had faded. The roots were still small, but we gathered enough to feed us for many suns. Some we ate raw; the rest we dried. We would mix them with huckleberries and shape them into cakes. The cakes were easy to carry on our horses.

While we worked, the chiefs planned the raid. After the sun had dropped behind the mountains, the warriors went out in three bands, with Ollokot, Looking Glass, and Too-hul-hul-sote as leaders. Swan Necklace and Two Moons rode with Ollokot.

When the raiding party left, I slipped out and climbed on my pony. I did not tell my father. I knew he would forbid me to go.

Beneath a half-moon the warriors rode, swift and silent in the night. I rode behind them, careful to stay back so they would not hear me. As we neared the soldiers' camp, the horses slowed.

I watched as the warriors rode among the tethered animals and cut their hobbles. They had worked for only a few minutes when a soldier called, "Who are you there?"

A shot rang out. One of our warriors had fired his gun. It alarmed the soldiers. They began shouting. A bugle sounded.

The warriors yelled and waved buffalo robes to make the herds run. Then they pulled back, firing over their shoulders as they rode away. Before they left, one of the warriors grabbed a blazing stick from a
fire and set the wagons ablaze. General Howard was left with piles of ashes.

Suddenly there were wild screams and a herd rushed past, plunging through the mist. Ollokot caught the animals with his fast riders and turned them back toward our camp.

Stampeding animals were all around me. The Great Spirit Chief must have been watching, because the animals parted and made a river on each side of me. I could feel their hot breath, but as they pounded past, they did not even brush my legs.

Swan Necklace rode by with several horses. He did not see me. After he had passed, he fired his rifle and snapped a whip over their backs. The horses screamed and ran in among the herd.

A powerful hand grabbed my arm, the fingers pressing so hard against the bone that I winced. A cold knife blade touched my throat. A gruff voice said, "Who is here?" It was Too-hul-hul-sote.

"It's Sound of Running Feet," I whispered. My mouth was dry with fear.

"Ahhh," he said in disgust. "You are going to get yourself killed." He dropped my arm and put the knife back in his belt. Too-hul-hul-sote snatched my pony's reins, then rode off after the stampeding herd, dragging me behind him.

Before we had ridden far the darkness faded. In the
first gray light, we saw that we had captured only three horses; but we had taken all of the general's mules.

We had no time to talk about the raid. The soldiers were close behind us. Half of the warriors slid off their horses and made ready to fight. The rest of us rode on with the mules.

Too-hul-hul-sote dropped the reins of my pony and slapped it on the rear. "Get back to camp," he shouted, and turned to join the warriors who crouched behind rocks.

Not long after we had reached Camas Meadows, the rest of the warriors came riding in. They were in high spirits. Only one had been struck and his wound was light. The bullet had skimmed his arm. It left a bloody path but did not stop him from joining in the feast. His hurt was so small that the warriors gave him a new name: Little Wound.

It was the happiest time for us. Our warriors sang and old people crooned songs they had forgotten. We had taken a small revenge against the one-armed general. It gave him shame.

A new spirit ran through the camp, some of the same spirit we had before the white general came. We had beaten his soldiers in the battles for the Clearwater and White Bird Canyon.

"We beat them again," Ferocious Bear said.

He sat on his spotted pony and shouted to everyone in the camp, to the lame and to the women who could only weave baskets and gather camas root.

At last he went to our last Red Coat and put a heavy hand on him. He said nothing, just gave Swan Necklace's arm a powerful squeeze.

W
E RESTED
for a whole sun after the battle. We knew the soldiers could not follow until they got more mules. Lean Elk was less happy than the rest of the camp. He thought we should have taken the horses, too. He called me to his tipi.

I combed my hair and braided it with strips of soft otter skin. I scrubbed my face with a wet cloth. I wiped the dirt off my elk-hide dress. Then I walked slowly across the camp, my skirt brushing the long grass. I was sure I was in trouble.

For a long time Lean Elk was silent. He looked at me with his burning eyes until I felt no bigger than a chipmunk. "I hear you played at warrior last night," he said. He was not pleased.

My words clattered like pebbles. "I ... I ... I ... I ... w ... wanted to see the raid," I said.

"And your childish wish cost us a herd of horses," he said.

Anger chased away my fear. "I am not the one who fired the rifle," I said. "I went without a weapon. I am not a warrior, but I am not such a child as to warn the soldiers."

Lean Elk tried to look stern, but the corners of his mouth would not stay still. He drew a hand across his lips to hide his smile. "So you think you know more about war than our brave warriors," he said.

"No," I said. "But I did not fight. I only watched."

"Next time obey your father," he said. "Ne-mee-poo women do not fight."

"The Blue Coats killed my mother. I would fight them if they came again," I said. "I would be as brave as the wife of Wah-lit-its. She fought beside her husband."

"She had battle thrust upon her," said Lean Elk. "You sought it out. You got in the way. Too-hul-hul-sote nearly killed you. He was very angry. Let us have no more of this playing at warrior. It does not become the future wife of a Red Coat."

I did not know what to say. I had been in the way and Too-hul-hul-sote had nearly cut my throat. I nodded and spoke no more.

We left the meadow the next morning in a steady rain. The trail grew steep. After two suns we marched into the Land of the Spirit Fountains, where a broad
path ran along the riverbank. Elk and black-tailed deer grazed in the distance. It was still summer on the meadow, but leaves were turning scarlet in the high country. The streams ran from bank to bank with green water that would soon turn to ice. The rivers already were crusted with ice. Chokecherries that puckered the tongue rattled dry and bitter on their stems, yet you could hold your breath, shut your eyes, make a face, and suck them down.

This was a wondrous place. I had heard about its pools of churning mud and its fountains that sprayed into the heavens. Soon we came to a small fountain close to the trail where water bubbled out and ran down to the rims. I stood beside the bubbling water and felt something move beneath my feet, cold with the earth's deepest cold. It grew warm and spread out. It rose around my body with the warmth of human breath. There was a great rumbling and from the center of the pool white clouds of water spouted high above my head into a sky turned suddenly blue.

We had stopped for food when there was a great commotion. The scouts came riding in, but they were not alone. White settlers rode with them.

Two of the settlers were women. The one on a gray horse had seen as many snows as my mother. She had eyes the color of an early morning sky, a narrow nose, and a sharp chin. Her hair was the shade of dried
grass, which she had twisted on top of her head. She was so strange looking that I felt sorry for her. She wore many long skirts and sat with both legs on the same side of the horse. It seemed a foolish way to ride.