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

CHEYENNE, October 24.—Gen. Crook being satisfied that Red Cloud and Red Leaf’s bands of Sioux were about to depart with a view of joining the hostiles in the north, they having refused to comply with the orders to come into the agency to receive rations, stubbornly remaining in camp on Shadron Creek, from whence it is known that they were communicating with the northern Indians and receiving into their camps such as come in, he, without awaiting the arrival of Gen. Merritt’s troops, determined on disarming them, and at daylight on the morning of the 23d Gen. McKenzie, with eight companies of the Fourth Cavalry, one battalion of which was commanded by Major Gordon, and another by Captain Mauck, successfully surrounded these two bands consisting of 3,000 lodges, and captured bucks, squaws and ponies without firing a shot. They were marched into the agency after having been disarmed and dismounted. Spotted Tail, who has evinced an unswerving loyalty to the whites, was made head chief and Red Cloud deposed. Spotted Tail and Little Wound have agreed to furnish Gen. Crook with all the warriors he may need to co-operate with him in the coming campaign, which will be inaugurated at once. Gen. Crook feels that a great object has been attained in this last movement and that we shall now know our enemies from our friends.

“The Bear Coat Chief wants to talk to you again,” Johnny told the despairing Sitting Bull seated alone at his small fire after the half-breed had dismounted near the Lakota leader’s lodge.

For the last two days Bruguier had been away from the Hunkpapa band, hanging back with the other chiefs when the village split apart during the chase.

“It is good. Let him talk to the others. I have nothing more to say to a soldier chief who will not listen.”

Sitting Bull was isolated now. Unlike the other chiefs, he alone had chosen to keep on running, to keep on fighting, putting the feet of his people on that hard path the day the soldiers harried their big village right up to the banks of the Yellowstone. While Gall, Red Skirt, Small Bear, and Bull Eagle decided to cross the river, beginning to talk of surrender, of heading in to the agencies, of giving up the fight they had been waging since spring, the Hunkpapa leader instead turned his people north to escape the Bear Coat and the army who came trudging along behind him.

Johnny had wrapped up his blanket and robe, riding off to follow the trail of the Bull and his thirty lodges while the soldiers continued their pursuit of the big village. Perhaps for some it was better to talk than to fight those long-reaching rifles and that big gun the Bear Coat’s troops had used to drive the Lakota people south across the Yellowstone.

Four days ago Johnny had fought bravely in attempting to hold the soldiers at bay while the village retreated. Even Sitting Bull’s nephew White Bull had been injured, shot through the elbow, his arm wrapped in a crude sling the past few days. And in their retreat the chiefs had argued more and more on what path to take—to surrender, or to stay on the free road.

It must surely hurt the old chief, Johnny brooded, now that even White Bull had elected to stay with Red Skirt’s Miniconjou and the rest.

But for Sitting Bull there was but one path. Once more he vowed he would never give up, even if it meant running north to the land of the Grandmother. Even if it meant he had to live on the scrawny flesh of prairie dogs.

As the sun came down and the wind came up, Johnny Bruguier gazed around him at the miserable camp of those who had elected to stay with Sitting Bull two days ago when the villages splintered. Those fortunate enough to get their lodges down before the soldiers invaded their camp had been taking in all of the very old and the very young they could, while the rest made do under bowers of blankets and robes, anything at all that would turn the frost of another night of running from the relentless pursuit of Bear Coat.