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

“No, I tell you,” Beaver Dam’s voice quaked. “On my way here I saw a party of Arapaho. When I got close, they looked like friends, so I went to their fire and ate their food. After they asked me all their questions about our village, only then I found out they were wolves for the blue soldiers. They pulled their guns and pointed them at me. They captured me.”

Young Two Moon asked, “Did they take you to the big soldier camp?”

Beaver Dam nodded emphatically. “The soldiers tied me up tight, hit me, put guns to my head—here—and to my breast—here—trying to make me tell them more about our village. I saw you and Crow Necklace in the soldiers’ camp … saw you steal the scouts’ horses that night you walked through the soldier camp.”

“Why didn’t you call out to them?” Gypsum demanded. “Ask them to help you escape?”

“If I had, Young Two Moon and Crow Necklace would be dead—killed by the soldiers or their scouts. I could not betray them, so I kept my mouth closed and waited.”

“Your story is very hard to believe,” one of the others snorted.

Beaver Dam looked at the warrior. “We were a small group coming home from Buffalo Bull Sitting Down’s country, and when we spotted some people far off, they sent me to find out who those people were.”

“And they were the Arapaho who captured you?”

“Yes!” Beaver Dam replied anxiously, then wagged his head dolefully. “Now I do not know where my people are.” He looked up at Young Two Moon anxiously. “Are my relatives here?”

“No,” he told young Beaver Dam. “Your people have not come here.”

So the youngster said hopefully, “Perhaps when I did not come back, they turned around and headed back to Buffalo Bull Sitting Down’s people.”

“That is too far away,” Young Two Moon said. “Wiser to seek out the Crazy Horse people.”

“Perhaps,” the youth considered. “White Bull is still with them.”

“How is it you have this horse?” Gypsum asked angrily, his hands flexing as if he would jump the youngster at any moment. “It is not a soldier’s American horse.”

“I know this horse!” cried another of Gypsum’s warriors. “It belongs to Sits in the Night! The enemy stole his horses last night during our dance!”

Gypsum edged his pony closer, grabbing Beaver Dam’s rein. “Where did you get this horse?”

He swallowed hard, his voice tight with fear. “Once the soldiers began their attack this morning, the Arapaho let me go, saying that it was too late for me to spoil their surprise. They said to pick a horse from the captured herds. I knew this horse. It belongs to Sits in the Night, and I knew it is a strong one which can outrun most soldier horses. I picked it.”

“You’ve had time to come up with a good story, little one,” Gypsum snarled, then suddenly lunged for the youngster, knocking him off his pony.

Both of them toppled to the ground, grappling as other warriors leaped into the fray, attempting to pull Gypsum off Beaver Dam. Two men held the older warrior back as he swung for the youngster.

Left-handed Wolf said, “This young man has told his story, and it is not so long since he left us that he could have betrayed his people to the soldiers. I think you should let him be.”

“No!” Gypsum snapped, lunging for the youngster although restrained by the others. “I must kill him! My sons are dead because of him!”

“This man did not kill your sons,” Left-handed Wolf argued as Gypsum struggled. “Listen! Hear those soldiers shooting? They have not stopped shooting at our people all morning long. Those soldiers and their Indians—they are the ones who killed your sons. Not this boy! If you want to fight, go fight the soldiers, Gypsum. Don’t let me catch you fighting this boy now! He is one of our people—”

“He is not our people!”

“He is Tse-Tsehese!” Young Two Moon shouted, shoving his way into the tightening circle of angry men. “We have enough enemies among the soldiers and their scouts from the agency who betray us—we must not fight among ourselves.”

“I will fight the soldiers,” Gypsum growled, flinging his arms out wildly, knocking down one of those who held him. “But first I will kill this one who caused the soldiers to kill my sons in the ravine!”

Yanking up his long braided rawhide quirt, Left-handed Wolf pressed it hard against Gypsum’s cheek as the others regained their hold on him. The cold wind tousled its ten thin strips of leather. “If you touch this youngster—I will come back to whip you myself!”

Gypsum’s eyes narrowed. “So—you are turning your back on your people too?”

In a flash Left-handed Wolf raked the quirt down Gypsum’s cheek, cocked his arm back, and snapped it forward, striking the warrior on the temple with the thick antler handle.

Gypsum’s knees turned to water as he slowly sank between his two holders.