When they were done, they dressed in breechclouts, leggings, and moccasins, and prepared for their official visit to Crazy Horse.
Crazy Horse awaited them with He Dog, one of his closest friends and supporters. They all greeted one another as old friends, with restrained pleasure, as was the Sioux way.
Because they had come to speak, Hawk and Sloan sat on either side of Crazy Horse. Willow, Ice Raven, and Blade joined the circle as well. First, Crazy Horse lit his pipe, which he shared with the others in the spiritual way. After they smoked, Crazy Horse’s wife, Black Shawl, and her mother, who lived in the tipi as well, served the guests food, well-prepared buffalo meat which was sweet and rich. Only when they had finished and complimented their host on his hospitality did it become time to talk. And it was Crazy Horse who began.
“I know why you have come. Sioux have come from the agencies as well. Men from Red Cloud, who once fought the whites so vigorously, now tell me that we can never best their numbers.”
“Red Cloud has been in Washington, and yes, he has seen that the whites are incredibly numerous,” Hawk said.
“The white settlers are a wave, a great wave, spilling over the country,” Sloan said.
“Throughout my life, we have gone through one treaty with the whites to the next. We have told them where they must not build their railroads, then we have watched as their railroad builders have come anyway, protected by the white soldiers. We have often asked before attacking why they are where they have promised that they will not be. The Black Hills are Sa Papa. The whites were not to be there. Cougar-in-the-Night—your army was to keep the whites out of the Black Hills.”
“My army despairs. They attempt to stop the settlers. But there is gold in the Black Hills. When white men get gold fever, they can’t be stopped.”
“Red Cloud’s opinion is that the Black Hills are already lost,” Hawk told him.
Crazy Horse waved a hand in the air. He looked from Sloan to Hawk. “You live at the base of Indian lands. Your father, the man we called the white Sioux, lived there in peace. He made use of the gold he found only where he knew he did not trespass on holy land. Why can’t the rest of the whites understand this? We’ve listened when they speak. ‘The railroad must be here.’ They bring their railroad. We’ve watched them, we’ve waited. Nothing is ever enough. They always demand more. They claim that they are at peace and raid Indian villages. Where will it end?”
“It won’t end,” Hawk told him truthfully.
Crazy Horse smiled. “You came to ask me to come in and listen to the whites’ words about buying the Hills.”
“Yes.”
“Are you asking me?”
“I’m asking you.”
“But you know I’m not coming.”
“Yes, I know.”
“So, the invitation is given and refused. Cougar, you know as well that this is true. You can return to your army with the assurance that you have done all you could do. I will not see the whites. I will not agree to sell the Black Hills. Perhaps the whites swarm over them. It is not with my agreement. I promise no safety to the whites there. Or here. The white man has asked for war. I try to keep my distance from him. When he steps on me, then I must throw him from my back. That is the way that it is.”
“Perhaps bloodshed can still be avoided,” Hawk said.
Crazy Horse stared straight at Sloan. “The army wishes us all dead.”
Sloan shook his head. “Not the army,” he said. “But yes, there are men, some of them generals, who want the Indians gone. They cannot kill the agency Indians because there will be a terrible outcry among Americans back east if they hear that peaceful Indians are being murdered at the agencies.”
“And will that matter?”
“Yes,” Sloan said, “Because among the whites…well, among the whites, the Americans, men who want power must be granted some of it by the people around them. To become really great chiefs, they must be elected by the people. To some people, a great victory against the Sioux would enhance a man’s favor. But equally, Crazy Horse, there are gentle people among the whites. Many people, like those who said that black men should not be slaves, who don’t believe that any human being, living at peace, should be murdered.”
“So you think I should try for peace and forget what the whites have done to me and my people?” Crazy Horse demanded.
Sloan shook his head again. “No.” He stared at Crazy Horse. “I hate what has been done. I am disgusted by the slaughter that has befallen so many of our Plains brethren. Crazy Horse must fight if attacked. With Sitting Bull, Gall, and others, you are the backbone of our people. Maybe the time will come when the Sioux will be so outnumbered there is no more choice. Now I know that to hold against the whites is the only choice you can make.”
Crazy Horse smiled at Hawk. “He is not a white man.”
“In his way, he is. The words we bring to you are important, but those we bring back from you are equally so. Cougar will tell the army that Crazy Horse is strong, that many Sioux—and allies!—stand with him. And it is hoped that the army generalswill tell the white fathers that they cannot steal the hills as they have stolen so much else. Yes, the whites swarm there now. But perhaps the Sioux will benefit because a line will be drawn and a price will be paid.”
Crazy Horse shrugged. “The army will ride against us, but that time has yet to come. When it does, we will make a stand. Hawk, you have brought your new wife?”
He nodded, taken aback by the abruptness of the question. Crazy Horse seemed intrigued, but Hawk was aware that his old friend meant as well that they were done discussing the business of the Black Hills and the council the whites—and Red Cloud—-had been so anxious for Crazy Horse to attend.
“I have.”
