The Long Knives Are Crying by Joseph M. Marshall

Author:Joseph M. Marshall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fulcrum Publishing
Published: 2017-08-08T19:20:18+00:00

A Hawk and a Whirlwind

Stands in Timber, a young Cheyenne with a pleasant face, stood on a rise north of the village and took in a sight that made his blood stir. No one knew how many people there were in camp; only guesses could be made. He estimated there were around five thousand people, and one of his friends thought there were nearly nine thousand horses. There were so many horses that they had to be broken down into several smaller herds and spread around the encampment to graze. So many that the grass at each new campsite was eaten down to the ground in a matter of three or four days.

Sitting in front of his lodge, he had felt a throbbing, the rhythm of life that begins to rise whenever so many people come together. He had felt it so strongly that he was compelled to climb the low rise, thinking perhaps he could see it, or perceive it somehow.

He stared at the forest of poles stretching upward like long, thin, intertwined fingers from the tops of hundreds of lodges. An endless forest, it seemed. Below them walked the people of three nations—the Lakota, along with their relatives the Dakota and Nakota, and the Blue Clouds and Cheyenne. Stands in Timber drew in a deep breath. Somewhere inside of him was the feeling that he would never again see such a sight.

People and horses were everywhere. Laughter and conversations floated on the lazy breeze. Full meat racks and empty drag frames stood upright between the lodges. Children moved about in small bunches. Women worked, scraping hides or slicing meat into thin strips to hang on the racks. Babies in cradleboards were numerous, as were dogs staying as unobtrusively close to the meat racks as they could. Old men sat around in small clusters, watching it all.

Walking slowly down the rise and entering the circle of the encampment was like walking into the warm waters of a lake. He could feel a sense of belonging surround him. He followed a line of lodges until he came to the Oglala neighborhood, intending to visit with his friend Crazy Horse. They had not spoken since two campsites ago. As always, there was a crowd at his lodge. Stands in Timber took a seat on the ground at the outer edge of the small group.

Little Big Man was speaking. Next to him, Grey Bull listened patiently, but, from the expression on the older man’s face, Stands in Timber knew Grey Bull was not pleased with what he was hearing.

“From what the agency people hear,” Little Big Man was saying, “the outpost upriver from Fort Laramie has a large number of Long Knives. I believe those who attacked Two Moons came from there. It would be wise to consider attacking it. We have at least seven hundred fighting men here now. Is that not why we are coming together, to do something about the Long Knives? What better way than to take the fight to them? They would not expect that.

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