A Cold Day in Hell: The Dull Knife Battle, 1876

Men like Brave Wolf, who had taken a vow as a Contrary. Even Last Bull did not molest such a crazy, wanting-to-die warrior. It was gratifying to Morning Star to find that Brave Wolf and a handful of other young Contraries kept moving in and out of camp to the east in their lonely vigil—their keen senses on edge for the soldiers they expected to come from that direction. Up among the huge boulders along the sides of the canyon they rode, listening for any sound, watching for the glint of a rifle barrel or bridle in the winter moonlight.

Then the moon fell in the southwest and only the stars lit the sky with a cold blue light. Brave Wolf and the others returned to camp, reporting in to the three Old-Man Chiefs. What starlight fell from the sky was not enough to help them see an enemy far away in that rugged country.

The singing and dancing continued as the People grew more and more weary, and the Kit Foxes worked themselves into a frenzy of war lust.

Sometime after the moon had fallen, Sits in the Night went to check on his ponies he had driven down below the village to graze. As he was approaching the open glade where he had left them Sits in the Night saw someone driving the ponies off to the east. His heart in his throat, he reined about immediately and raced back to the village. There he told his story to the camp crier, who immediately went through those gathered at the dance to tell the story of someone stealing the horses.

“I got there in time to see people driving off my ponies. I could see them whipping my ponies. I could hear the blows as they struck my animals. I think the soldiers have come—for farther down from there I heard a rumbling noise!”

“Aiyee!” screeched several people in terror.

Many held their hands over their mouths, their eyes wide as silver conchos, afraid that Box Elder’s vision was coming to pass.

The crier declared, “We had better look to making breastworks! The soldiers are nearly upon us!”

Crow Split Nose—chief of the Himo-we-yuhk-is, the Crooked Lances, and second in command of the Elk Society only to Little Wolf—stepped forward to bravely declare, “I think it would be a good idea for the women and children to tear down the lodges and take them up to that cutbank to the west where there is a good place to throw up breastworks. They should do this at once.”

Emboldened by the news of strangers around their camp and the courageous words of those who would defy Last Bull’s Kit Foxes, many of the families turned away at this time and once more prepared to take blankets and robes and special treasures into the surrounding hills to safety.

But as quickly the brazen chief and Wrapped Hair appeared in their midst, screaming for their warriors, sending the bold young men here and there—ordering them to whip anyone who attempted to leave the village. If simply cutting cinches would not work, the Kit Foxes were to beat their own people with their bows.

“No one will leave this village tonight!”

Wrapped Hair agreed, raising his voice in the martial call. “We will stay up all night and dance—then defeat the soldiers come morning!”

Last Bull whirled on Crow Split Nose with a cruel sneer, spiting out his words, “Why are you so afraid of the ve-ho-e soldiers, Crow Split Nose? You will not be the only man killed if we are attacked!”

“I do not care for myself,” the Elk Society leader replied stoically. “I care only for the women and children who will be killed because of your foolishness. I want to get them up where they will be safe when the bullets fly about our heads. We must leave only men in camp.”

“Yes—there will be men in camp!” Last Bull roared.

“Good,” Crow Split Nose said, his eyes gleaming with fury. “Come morning you will know what is to happen to our people. Wait until morning, Last Bull—and your fate will be at your door!”

Laughing off that challenge, the war chief of the Kit Foxes turned to his warriors and once more commanded them to scatter, staying on guard to see that no one fled camp. Once more he waved his arms and the drum began, the songs rising into the cold night air as the hundreds of feet pounded the frozen earth.

It filled Morning Star’s heart with sadness as he watched his own three sons join the dancing.

Chapter 25

25 November 1876

At long last the final company was “up,” closing the file, those last soldiers joining the rest in that gently sloping patch of ground before the entire command once more fell silent between the hulking shoulders of that canyon they would be plunging into momentarily.

They had covered more than twenty-five miles in darkness to stand here on the threshold of attack, listening to the distant voice of that war drum.

Then Mackenzie returned with Rowland and the Cheyenne scouts, coming alive, the colonel animated suddenly—officers old and young clustered around him. He raised himself in his stirrups as his staff came to a halt, fanning out in a crescent around their leader.