The Dying Grass, page 131
His eyes half closed, a headbanded Cheyenne scout uplifts his face at jolly Mrs. Miles,
and, O, my Lizzie, if I could but lay my head down in your lap and weep—
O, dear GOD.
You know, Wood, Miles was my devoted friend. I just don’t understand it—
General, he’s played you false, I’m afraid.
Did I tell you that he held my arm while it was being amputated? He—
Hurrah for General Miles!
Hurrah,
hurrah,
hurrah!
Long have they pass’d, hurrah, hurah, hurrah!
The cannon roars out, scaring twelve hundred captured horses and shaking the alkali cliffs, and the smile of Tzi-kal-tza is the smile of a knife slicing meat off the bones of a thing.
2
Do sit down, Miles. It’s said that you gave Joseph your word that he wasn’t subject to removal. Is that the case?
It might have been his impression, sir.
I’ve interrogated poor Howard, who naturally is death on the idea of permitting Joseph to remain in his former hunting ground. He’s out for blood!
Naturally, sir.
Did I ever tell you about the time that Custer and I were putting pressure on the Kiowas? At first, of course, they wouldn’t hear of coming in to the reservation at Fort Cobb. Well, we had Lone Wolf and Santana in custody by then. They kept demanding to speak with me. I knew they had to be taken down a peg, so I refused. Finally I said to poor Custer, I said: You tell those two chiefs that we shall wait until sundown to-morrow for the tribe to ride in. If by that time the village isn’t present, Lone Wolf and Santana will be hung, and the troops despatched in pursuit of the Kiowas.
Yessir. That came out pretty well, sir.
Correct. One sometimes needs to follow a hard line. And the fact is, Miles, that those Kiowas were playing us false, and the same goes for that d——d Joseph. For two cents I’d take him out back and shoot him.
Yessir.
Well, well. Public opinion wouldn’t permit it, I suppose. The world isn’t always as we’d like it to be, is it, Miles?
That’s for sure, general. For instance, I’ve repeatedly asked General Sherman about my—
How’s he behaving?
Joseph? Smiling a blue streak, sir.
Now, we’re going to put the squeeze on him. He might as well be informed that until the rest of his confederates come in, he can rot. And whatever promise you might have made him at Bear’s Paw doesn’t signify.
In fact, general, I always considered it the merest stratagem of war.
Right you are, Miles. And if you flattered his pride to make him surrender, you did a good thing. Those squaws and papooses of his were pretty broken down. They should be grateful.
Yessir.
And thank GOD he didn’t make it into the British Possessions! The press would have savaged us, so to speak . . .
Ha, ha, ha!
Now, Miles,
sweetly and deliberately smoking his cigar,
How dangerous is this White Bird? You tell me he’s definitely managed to cross the line.
That’s so, general. Those d——d Cheyennes disobeyed my direct order and—
Scalped a few of Joseph’s squaws, no doubt.
Yessir.
Got to give them that.
General, the point here is that I caught the big fish.
Yes, yes, the Red Napoleon.
Yessir. White Bird is a vicious, cunning Indian and no mistake. I have no doubt that Sitting Bull can make use of him to disturb the country thereabouts. But compared to Joseph he’s—
Why did you let the sonofabitch get away, Miles?
I—
Don’t blame your stinking Cheyennes, at least not to me. You know d——d well an officer takes responsibility for his command.
See here, General Sheridan, sir, I demand to go on record—
I’ve been fighting Cheyennes since ’68. I know how to keep them in line if you don’t. And if you want to quarrel with me, Miles . . . Would you like a quarrel?
No, sir.
Good. Keep your brightest lookout for stray Nez Perces up that way, especially the bucks, of course. And remind Joseph that since he’s now enjoying the unmerited protection of the Government, he’d better induce White Bird to come in before we run out of patience.
I’ll do that, sir.
And light a fire under those Cheyennes of yours.
O, I certainly shall, general.
Why give me that look? Have you forgotten that I was best man at your wedding?
No, sir.
A most delightful event! Has it already been, what, eleven years?
Yessir, and my wife expected to see me in a far higher position by now.
Of course. Good LORD, that’s what any decent wife would—
General Sheridan, sir, not a single one of the mistakes in this campaign was mine. I have authority for what I say.
No one’s against you, Miles! If anything, you’re liable to win your star at long last. With your connections—
I should hope so, general. You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve asked General Sherman for my own Department. And if anybody impugns me for winning the Nez Perce War at the eleventh hour, I’ll stand on my rights. I’ve been patient for far too long, sir. I’ll go to the press if I have to.
Easy there, Miles. In your opinion, who did commit those mistakes?
I believe you understand me, sir.
I do. Just between us, how would you characterize old Howard? A couple of words will do.
He’s my superior in rank, sir, and has always advanced my—
To hell with that.
In a couple of words? An embarrassment, sir.
A sad case. He was never good for much. Thank you for your honesty, Miles.
3
Next come the slanders and insults in the newspapers back East, one after the other, like Indians galloping in tightening circles around a wagon train
(my conscience acquits me)
and when Miles in his public pronouncements (as offensively retrogressive as lead shot twined into a Tlingit rattletop basket) declines to thank any but his own troops for the victory:
What about Theller, for the love of GOD? He could at least have gratified the widow, and recognized his sacrifice
(Hooker and Crook must have gotten to him; now even Sheridan’s against me:
my future’s as long and narrow as a Winchester)—
I’d think he’d show an ounce of consideration for me, who
comes mar-ching home!
and Fletch, and Perry, Wood
(who is already yearning to put his hair up like a Dreamer)
and Bomus, Trimble (forgiven now), Mason, Miller, Whipple, Sladen, Guy and
(Captain Jackson’s bugler, what was his name? I hope the hostiles failed to disinter him for his scalp)
and a reception concert in honor of Brigadier General O. O. Howard at the New Market Theatre in Portland this Monday evening, November 12, 1877, featuring
Mrs. C. Richlings Bernard from the Grand English Opera; she will perform the grand sesella from “Lucia di Lammermoor” while Lizzie and the children sit in the front row, and a solo and chorus will acquit themselves of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” after which someone will sing “Let Me Like a Soldier Fall”
—decency as forgotten an invention as the coffee-mill Sharps—
and all the brave men who
even Sturgis
nor will I descend to political maneuvering
and
Stand up for these, the wrong’d, the aggriev’d,
In deepest pits of darkness found . . .
(How much longer do you suppose that old man can sit a horse?
Poor one-armed fellow!)
he takes up his pen and begs to differ, for the sake of his own army
(I was never put on Earth to be a business man)
and for Lizzie, who weepingly disparages him for never standing up for himself and his children
Father?
Not now, Guy.
(Will she never see what I do stand up for? No, never,
praying for us, baking our bread in her wrought-iron pan;
that’s not for me to ask of her, much less of anyone else, including so-called Christians such as General Sherman who
does he pity me now?
unlike me never hesitates to be pitiless, I’m called upon only to defend Him to the best of my capability, no matter when I cannot answer all they ask:
Toohhoolhoolzote demanding to know, perhaps even in good faith if I may profane that phrase in relation to such a thickheaded old villain, why I should presume to remove him from his so-called MOTHER
and Lieutenant Hazzard in his stifling office during the Seminole campaign
[exactly twenty years ago now it’s been since I felt GOD’s grace]:
Well, then, Howard, how do you account for these discrepancies in the Bible?
grinning at me, lighting his pipe, slapping a mosquito on his cheek—
I cannot tell right now, Hazzard. But perhaps I’ll be able to explain them at some future time,
and Hazzard flummoxed, myself proudly, courteously unmoved),
but Miles coolly declines to express any consideration for our effort. Who would have thought it? Just as in whist the partner of the player winning the first trick gathers the tricks for that deal, so my good friend Miles now sweeps in the honors which, strictly speaking . . .
How was Wood able to size him up so accurately? Frankly, I have sometimes been too credulous,
trusting for instance in the word of Joseph,
and believing as I do that one must endure with men of bad habits, even profane men, I may have forborne too much.
LORD forgive me, I never desired but to be of service! Hence I hoped to be a good man in a high place—
Wood, would you please come in for a moment?
Yessir.
With your talents, I think you could do a fair job presenting a true account of the surrender to the press.
I’ll get right on it, general.
Colonel Miles, I am astonished at your accusation—
General Howard, you virtually gave up the pursuit—
His brother in CHRIST Reverend Cooke sends him, no doubt out of kindness, an issue of a newspaper from Helena, Montana. Governor Potts has addressed the Legislative Assembly as follows: The Indian situation in the Territory has been very unsatisfactory. The raids of the Nez Perces and Bannack Indians were very destructive of life and property. Nothing so much retards the settlement and growth of a country as continual trouble and depredations from Indians. The most intelligent estimate made by the United States authorities, places the number of hostile Indians, with Sitting Bull’s camp near the northern line of the Territory, at between fourteen and fifteen hundred lodges. The people, capable of bearing arms, should be organized, drilled and disciplined. The present situation of this Territory appears to warrant the consolidation of the two Military districts into a Department, and the public sentiment of the people points with entire unanimity to Brevet Major General Nelson A. Miles, Colonel of the 5th Infantry,
with entire unanimity, O yes. I see.
I’ll need to retire now. No. I won’t bow, not ever. But perhaps in five years, I’ll leave the Army. Then what? I’ll show Lizzie all the love whose existence she has learned to doubt; and the instant the debts of the Freedmen’s Bureau are finally liquidated, I’ll farm. No, I’ll breed horses once again. Shall I buy Arrow from Chapman? No, it wouldn’t look right. Besides, this campaign has begun to wear him out. Joseph’s Appaloosas are fine, but I’d like a trick horse, perhaps a hackney show horse with a cheerful mincing prance. GOD forgive him. I forgive him. Do I? Dear LORD, I humbly request of You the Christian forbearance and fortitude required to truly and fully forgive Colonel Nelson Miles, who used to be my friend.
Well, boys, our Christian General sure took a tumble into the ditch this time.
Serves him right,
GOD forgive him. GOD forgive him. GOD forgive him.
If he’d just hauled Mr. Joe behind the woodpile and whipped him, right at the start, all them people round about Mount Idaho would still be kicking—
And our boys at White Bird Cañon—
And Cottonwood—
And—
The biscuit’s full of worms again, boys.
O shut up.
They raped that Helen Walsh. Just about ripped her open is what I heard. And Howard stood aside and—
He could have saved Mrs. Manuel if he’d—
I’ll bet you White Bird’s using her this very instant, over there across the line.
No, they strangled her before Lo Lo. Mr. Joe confessed—
He did?
And Uh-Oh Howard—
Just like at Chancellorsville. Should have been cashiered.
Dragging us across Hell and gone—
Even at Camas Meadows he couldn’t keep one eye open. That Mr. Joe he come right in and—
And Howard won’t never take a white man’s word for nothing.
He’s nothin’ but a GODd——d old ass-fucker.
Yeah, how’d you know?
JUST DESERTS
NOVEMBER 1877
1
Good morning, general, says his best friend.
Good morning, general.
So you concur with General Sheridan.
I do, sir.
Now what about this half-assed promise that Colonel Miles supposedly made to Joseph? You were present.
Yes, general. He did make it in my hearing. But the terms of the surrender were violated by the Indians’ conniving at White Bird’s escape—
General Howard, I know you for a true gentleman. Joseph may have made a fool out of you, but that don’t matter for shit.
General—
As far as I’m concerned, he ought to be hanged, and all his redskinned devils exterminated right down to the last GODd——d squaw. We’d better make an example of them.
General, I hope there will be fair trials.
Howard, you were always soft.
But I do agree, general, that we can’t send the Nez Perces back to Lapwai. It wouldn’t be fair to the good Indians who have obeyed the Government.
Right. So I’m going to override Miles. The Secretary of the Interior will follow my recommendations. Miles will be mortified, of course. He’s gone to me over Sheridan’s head—
O, did he?
I suppose you’ll feel a certain satisfaction, general. Vengeance is mine, saith the LORD.
Not on my account, sir!
Or do you now entirely believe that GOD is love? Mrs. Sherman used to opine that.
I certainly do not, general.
By the way, general, it’s time to consider your health. You’re worn out—hardly any good to the Army—
General, I hope to prove the contrary.
All right, Howard. That will be all. You can keep your Department. As for those d——d Nez Perces, we’ll bury them deep in the Indian Territory.
So long, Mr. Joe!
The Americans are your friends, and want you to go back to your old home, and if you don’t, you will go to some other good Reservation.
LIEUTENANT GEORGE W. BAIRD, to White Bird, 1878
The reservation system is a system under which the Indian people can never make much progress. It is a system plainly for the benefit of white men—settlers and Indian employees.
BRIGADIER GENERAL OLIVER OTIS HOWARD, U.S.A., 1907
It would be a hardship which our white frontiersmen could not bear to shut them up together upon a ranch, however fertile, and keep them there by military force in order to convert them from shepherds and herders into successful farmers. They would in time doubtless come to it by some such pressure, especially if attended by a reasonable degree of starvation. Such inhumanity is plain when whites and not Indians are concerned.
BRIGADIER GENERAL OLIVER OTIS HOWARD, U.S.A., 1907
I think if I should dwell a year or two with any savage tribe I should live as they live; I should dress as they dress . . . and I should probably eat out of the common pot, and be, to all intents and purposes, an Indian.
BRIGADIER GENERAL OLIVER OTIS HOWARD, U.S.A., 1907
I have endeavored to show how my grandfather’s stories of the wild Indians with whom he had to do, affected my childhood; how these tales became almost like a nightmare to me and continued to haunt me even when I was a cadet at West Point.
BRIGADIER GENERAL OLIVER OTIS HOWARD, U.S.A., 1907
In dealing with Indians we must neither fear nor hate them. After instructions are given by the proper authorities, see to it that the Indians are made to understand the orders. Afterwards, see to it that they are carried into execution without hesitation or delay.
BRIGADIER GENERAL OLIVER OTIS HOWARD, U.S.A., 1907
THE MEDICINE LINE
OCTOBER–NOVEMBER 1877
1
In the fog, with TRAVELLER THE SUN orange-brown like an old grizzly bear tooth, they ride and walk toward the Medicine Line as they can. Then TRAVELLER goes away. They flee together or alone, days and horizons apart. Some are barefoot, many lack blankets and a few go nearly naked. They are all hungry. Huge wet snowflakes cling to their shoulders. Then the snow begins to freeze
as they sing their WYAKIN songs,
walking frozen-toed or stick-whipping their shivering horses,
wondering whom they will see again,
Black Eagle struggling to make himself brave for his lost father Wottolen
(after three suns, some Crees will give him clothes and moccasins),
About Asleep comforting the little brother behind him on his horse
(tonight those lucky boys will stop farther down the creek and kill two buffalo),
