To many of those in our present generation, America during the 1850’s would have been a harsh place to live. White land owners, Black slaves, and Native American Indians all shared their own set own set of challenges and difficulties.
The Native American way of life in this time period was a very simple one. It was a community based lifestyle that centered on hunting, fishing, farming, and trading for survival. Although Native American is a very collective term, the different tribes are very different from one another. The Apache tribe of the South and Southwest differed greatly from the Sioux Indians of the Dakotas. Some tribes were quite peaceful to outsiders, while others were went to great lengths to preserve their cultural way of life. Some tribes were more accustomed to trading and conversing to the settlers than others.
One thing that remained the same for everyone throughout the west was the common theme of limited supplies. The farther west you would travel, the scarcer the general stores and potential traders became. All of your supplies had to be hunted, grown, or found. The most valuable item that one could come across was a breed of cattle (buffalo and oxen included). Depending on whom you were out in the west changed how you would utilize it. For most European, and American settlers, cattle were meant two main things: food and labor. Cattle could help drive heavy wagons much easier than man could on just his two feet alone. If the cattle were to die, the average explorer would end up eating its flesh, often leaving behind carcasses. Native Americans were a little bit more creative when it came to such a versatile tool. Cattle could not only be used for labor and food, but many Indians removed the hide to use for clothing, especially in the colder months. Even the bones were used for either tools or weapons. In certain rituals, the heart of the animal was saved and then later buried. Nearly the whole animal was used.
The summer of 1854 seemed to have abnormal weather. It was much hotter in years passed, and as a result, the ecosystem in the Nebraska Territory was thrown for a loop. There was less rain, and this drought caused a lot of the vegetation to shrivel up. Many wild buffalo migrated to find better grazing areas. Two Native American siblings were surprised to find a lone cow wandering down by one of the last few flowing rivers. A thought popped into their head to bring this gift from the gods back to their village elders.
“Its eyes are funny looking,” says the boy from his perch, “Like he’s tired or something.”
His sister giggles, “I guess he would have to be to put up with you crawling all over him like that.” She scratches the poor cow behind the ear in a show of solidarity. Putting up with her little brother is a challenge she knows all too well. “But seriously, Itan, get down from there,” she says, “That thing looks like it’s on its last leg. If it falls over and crushes you, I don’t want to be the one who has to explain to Ahte why his eldest son can’t go hunting with him tomorrow.”
“But Macawi, I’m tired,” the little boy whines.
“I know, little one. But you are going to have to be brave for the village. What would lala say if he saw you now?” she asks jokingly. Putting on her best imitation of their elderly grandfather, she croaks, “This cow is a gift little chief. The fortunes smile on us today. The least you can do is smile back.” When he tries to hide his smile, she knows she has him. “Look, I’ll tell you what. You can even ride on my back for a bit. Just leave the poor cow alone. If it dies before we get back I’m not carrying either of you. Besides we’re almost home. Look, the circle is right over that hill. Here, take my han– or you could just jump off, that works too. I thought you were tired?”
“Well, I was,” Itan says, “but like you said, we’re almost home…” His grin is so wide it threatens to split his head at the ears.
Macawi chuckles, knowing what is coming next. “Alright, alright,” she laughs, “You can go call ahte, and I’ll take the cow to the center.”
“You’re the best Macawi!” the boy shouts as he takes off towards the tipis.
Finally cresting the low hill with the once lost cow in tow, Macawi looks out at her home. The white tents circling a broad open space where several people can be seen going calmly go about their business. In the distance, she can hear her little brother calling out, “Ahte, ahte, come see what I found!”
Macawi smiles as she watches Itan run into their father Olowan’s arms. “Ahte, look what we’ve found!” he repeats excitedly.
“What is it, my child?” Olowan responds, ruffling his son’s black hair. Itan points to where Macawi stands, and Olowan’s eyes follow, and then his gaze drops to the cow that stands by her side. “What is this?” He asks his daughter, setting down Itan and approaching the cow.
“We found it by the river,” Macawi says, scratching its ear again. “It must have wandered away. I know we’ve been struggling for meat lately, and so it seemed the right thing to do would be to bring it back here.”
“That was wise indeed, Macawi. This animal is a gift to the tribe. It will benefit our people well. We must inform our Chief,” Olowan replies. “Why don’t you take Itan and go find the other children? I will take it from here.” And with that he watches as his children run away, the sounds of his son’s excitement fading in the distance: “Hey guys, you’ll never guess what Macawi and I found…”
Olowan shakes his head and smiles, and begins to guide the cow to the chief’s hut. He finds the chief sitting crossed legged in front of a fire, his face very pensieve. “Chief Conquering Bear, I have brought forth a gift my children have found by the river,” he announces himself.
The chief looks from Olowan to the cow by his side. He immediately stands up and walks over to the animal. “This is a gift indeed,” he says, traces of a smile appearing on his face. “Your children were smart to bring it back here to the village. Our people are no longer in fear of starving.”
“Yes, that is the very reason they brought it back to us,” Olowan replies proudly.
“Take this animal to High Forehead to be prepared,” the chief instructs Olowan. I will announce that tonight, we feast again.”
Excitement flows through the village the rest of the day. Word has it that a miracle happened upon their village and that High Forehead had slain a cow that was now being prepared by the women for a feast tonight. Their bellies would finally be full! The feast that that night is full of joy. People eat, talk, laugh, and sing, and hope is brought into the tribe once more.
The cheers continued throughout the village and the excitement lingered, as if all the village people had caught the same illness. Conquering Bear was overjoyed and beyond happy for his people, but that could all soon quickly change.
“Who is that over there Macawi?,” asks Itan. Macawi slowly turns around to face the direction in which Itan is pointing. Macawi, with determination, tries her best to look beyond the hill to try and see who the tall silhouette of a man may be. “I do not know,” says Macawi, “but I will tell the Chief.” With a pep in her step, Macawi quickly ran to Chief Conquering Bear to tell him what Itan had seen. “Chief, there seems to be a visitor upon us.” With a look of concern Conquering Bear left his tent in hast.
“Who dare enter our village?” proclaimed Chief Conquering Bear. With a slight pause the voice in the distant replied, “I am Emer. I come to reclaim my peoples cow.” Not knowing whether or not to believe Emer, Chief retorted, “How do we know that the cow belongs to you?” With a stern expression upon his face Emer commenced to telling Conquering Bear that while his people were moving across the land one of their cows strayed away from the herd.
Beginning to believe Emer, Chief Conquering Bear replied, with a look of empathy, “I cannot return your cow for we have sacrificed it for the well-being of our village people, but I can offer you a horse from my personal herd.” “That will not satisfy my needs, for I want the cow,” says Emer. Pondering the situation, Chief decides to offer him one of the cows from the tribes herd, but once again Emer shuts him down. “I do not know what more you could want, ” explains Conquering Bear. Emer, In quick response, “If you cannot give us our cow back, then we want 25 pounds for our lose.” Shaking his head, Chief Conquering Bear tells Emer that he, nor his village people have that to proposition with.
After negotiating all that he and his village people had to offer, Chief Conquering Bear was left with little to do to help the young man and his people. He did not know what more to do make the situation go away.
Listening in the background, Itah leans over and says, “Ahte, what happens now?” With worry upon his face, Olowan looks into Itan’s eyes and says, “ I do not know ciks, I do not know.
Just like that, the joyful village quickly turned to one filled with concern and worry.
For several days that followed, the stalemate between Conquering Bear and Emer grew more tense, reaching a boiling point when the farmer sought the aid of the U.S. Military. Despite having no authority in the matter, these men demanded that the Sioux arrest one of their own people, and turn him over to their custody; wary of grounds set in the Treaty of 1851, the Chief dismissed this proposition as outrageous and refused to meet their request. The next day, the world changed.
Itan woke up early the following morning to the repetitive sound of footsteps outside.
“Macawi?” said Itan as he crawled out of bed. “Ahte?”
“Shh!” came the voice from outside their home. Itan whirled around quickly, visibly flustered.
He was reassured to see Macawi, until he registered the downtrodden look on her face.
“Wha-”
“Shh, get dressed and come quick, this is scaring me.”
The boy threw on his clothes and met his sister outside, they ran towards the center of the camp. As they darted past the huts and rows of men, the duo could hear agitated voices bantering with one another. They got closer, closer, then a shout:
“ENOUGH!”
The two halted in their tracks. Macawi grabbed Itan and pulled him behind a set of bushes. From here, they watched the horror unfold. The cluster of men in suits stood in four, ordered rows of seven men apiece; one man in the front row was lying down, on his back and receiving medical attention from two adjacent men. The Sioux leaders stood opposite them; the elder council’s hut was directly behind the leaders, and an increasing number of curious villagers and warriors were filling in around the sides of the tent. The rectangular regiment of uniforms was surrounded by a growing semi-circle of Sioux warriors, dressed in their traditional hunting garb. Among them stood Olowan, sporting a stern, but fierce look on his face.
“Ahte looks angry, why is he an-”
“Be quiet Itan, I’m trying to hear”, whispered Macawi sharply, cutting him off.
Chief Conquering Bear stood out in the middle of the clearing, talking to the leader of the men in uniforms. The man had a violent look on his face, and was shouting at the Chief, commanding him to surrender High Forehead to their custody “or else”. The wise leader merely smiled back at the man, and calmly attempted to reiterate how they already had installed a plan for such a scenario with his superiors. The man in uniform’s face had transitioned from a light, rosy shade, to a dark, savage crimson. However, he said nothing. Instead the man gritted his teeth and said,
“Fine, you must be ill in the head, Chief. ”
And with that he turned about and strided towards his men. Believing the conflict to be finished for the time being, Conquering Bear sighed and began his return to the tent.
“The only cure for your disease is death.”
Time seemed to stop.
A vicious, crackling sound wave rippled through the air and pierced the eardrums of all in proximity.The entire camp, Indian and Uniforms alike, stood in a silence that seemed to carry on for an eternity. Conquering Bear delicately reached for his chest, visibly in pain. His knees gave out; the mighty Sioux commander collapsed onto the earth beneath him, as the soil cushioned the impact with his absorbed life force.
“Good riddance,” murmured the regiment’s Leader, with his gun still smoking. “Let that serve as a message to those who cross any squad I’m in.”
With that, he holstered his glistening, silver pistol. At which point several of the Indian doctors rushed to help the Chief and remove him from the expanding scarlet puddle forming around his midsection.
Macawi glanced towards her brother, and made eye contact as the first of many tears ran down her numb face. She pulled younger boy in close, and felt the cloth on her upper shoulder began to dampen where his head rested.
The Sioux shifted their attention from their fallen leader to the group of uniformed men in the center of the throng. As the armed men in uniforms began to form up their lines to make a retreat, a passionate cry roared through the air, breaking the silence. The Sioux warriors, lead by Olowan, drew their weapons, and charged their leader’s assailants in a righteous frenzy. The soldiers attempted to bring their rifles to bear on the warriors, but the effort was in vain, as the Indians stormed in too close and overwhelmed them.
Macawi clutched Itan tightly as the stampede of warriors barrelled towards the center of the encampment from all sides. She hoisted him up and sought shelter on top of a nearby boulder. From here, they watched as the carnage unfolded.
The scene was brutal. Sioux stormed in from every direction, converging on the center of the horde with their carefully constructed weapons drawn back and ready to swing down like a hammer into the skull of the nearest foe. Macawi shielded her brother’s eyes from the slaughter, but she resolved herself to watch until the coast was clear, and she and Itan could escape unharmed. One by one the uniformed men were bludgeoned to death, in similar fashion to one another; a well place chop from a tomahawk easily brought down even the toughest of the men. However, one such scene stood out to the girl, and it would remain with her for the rest of her days.
Olowan’s encounter with the leader. As the battle raged,Macawi saw Olowan confront the man from her perch. As her father charged in, the man smirked and drew his gleaming gun, directing it towards the brave patriot. Before he could fire, Olowan closed the gap on him and slammed into the man; “Rattan” was his name, as the cries of his comrades betrayed his identity. The force of the collision jarred the small pistol from Rattan’s grip as Olowan drove him into the ground. The man struggled to push the powerful Olowan off of him, to no avail; the much larger Sioux pinned him to the ground with one massive arm. Noticing a flicker of light to his right, the desperate man glanced in that direction. His pistol, lay unperturbed from where it initially landed. Macawi’s father lunged at the gun just as Rattan did. The soldier reached the handle of his sidearm first though, he tightened his grip around it and fired just as the full weight of Olowan fell on top of his upper body trapping his arm against the floor. At first, Macawi believed her father was dead, as he did not appear to be moving initially. Then he sprang up, pinning the terrified man to the mud with his knee, keeping his right arm, gun still in hand, at bay. Rattan continued to strike and claw at the warrior with his free hand, but Olowan’s fortified frame prevented him from doing any real harm. The man still refused to relinquish the gun, despite the vice grip Olowan held on his wrist; this was about to change. Rattan’s eyes widened, and he screamed out in pain as Olowan took hold of the soldier’s upper arm with his other hand, and bent his arm backwards at the elbow, splintering it at the elbow; anytime from then on, Macawi would cringe upon hearing a tree limb snapping at its base. The man’s hand went limp and the gun dropped to the dirt, and he continued to cry out in pain. Olowan picked up the gun and jammed the barrel down Rattan’s throat, causing him to gag and choke. Then, he turned his head away, shutting his eyes, and just as he had seen the contemptuous soldier do earlier, pulled the trigger.
Macawi couldn’t bear to look any further, the sight of the man’s blood oozing from the gaping orifice in the back of his skull was too much. She shut her eyes and pulled the trembling Itan in close to her. They remained in the embrace until the shouts around them had ceased. When Macawi opened her eyes, and glanced over the boulder, she could see that the fighting had quelled.
An eerie silence falls over the once hospitable environment. The center of the encampment was covered both with mutilated bodies and the horrified villagers who had run for cover. Macawi watches the warriors of her village disperse into the surrounding area while: there is no sight of her father. The sound of a wailing child pierces the air.
“Waa…Waaaaaaa!” Macawi covered her brother’s mouth in an attempt for their position to remain hidden. Her eyes swelled with tears as the memory of her father exploding a man’s head teased her sanity. Over Itan’s crying, Macawi hears footsteps approaching their boulder and screams. A familiar voice whispers into their ears. “You two be quiet…There may be more of them wandering around here.” Olowan’s unexpected arrival gives Macawi a feeling of relief and fear. “Father!” The two small bodies clutch the legs of their father as if his strength will somehow defeat the intense pain they feel in their frail hearts. Olowan picks them up and swiftly retreats back to the village.
The two siblings are taken to a small tepee harboring other frightened residents and are ordered to stay put. Olowan speaks solemnly. “I want you two to stay here with the rest of the villagers. Do not leave. I will be back once we find out what we shall do next.” The battle-ready warrior then vanishes outside towards a group of warriors. “Macawi, I’m scared.” Itan grasps the still quivering hand of his sister and looks into her saddened eyes. “Did we cause this?” Macawi responds, “No brother! There is no way we could have imagined any of this!” in a manner resembling a strong, assertive whisper. The boy becomes quiet and looks towards the ground in despair. A few minutes later, the siblings hear a group of warriors conversing just outside of their tepee.
“The word has been received. The wanderers have been intercepted by war chief Red Cloud. For now we can search the village for anyone else.”
“Chief Conquering Bear has sustained an injury to his chest and is still bleeding. It is not looking good.”
The sound of their father’s voice interrupts the conversation.
“Tonight, men, we raid the white man’s trading post. We will get in there and take as much as we can carry back. Kill anyone in your sight.”
Macawi closes her eyes and thinks to herself, “When will the killing stop? Should we have brought back that cow? What will happen to the chief?” As she ponders, Itan turns to her and, in a shaky voice asks “When will father return?”