The Dying Grass, page 19
now they are lashing war-bells around their ankles
and dancing the War Dance
and White Bird tells them: Now, my People, you must do the best that you can. No one told you to kill those Bostons. In peacetime you cannot kill them, either by night or by day. Now we have war, so you may kill any Bostons you wish, day or night, except that you must not kill their women. And what becomes of us we shall see.
WELL, COLONEL, THIS MEANS BUSINESS
JUNE 15
Well, colonel, this means business.
Yes, sir.
Are your men in readiness?
Yes, sir, except for some transportation that must come from Lewiston.
Wilkinson, get ready to go to Walla-Walla at once.
Yes, sir.
And send in the half-breed. I understand he speaks English quite freely?
Yes, sir.
What’s his name?
Mr. West.
Colonel, how well do you know Mr. Brown?
A reliable man, general. Never told us anything untrue—
And he vouches for this half-breed. Are you acquainted with his character?
Well, he’s a half-breed, sir.
By your order, sir, Mr. West is waiting for you.
Send him in.
Yes, sir.
Good afternoon, Mr. West.
Good afternoon, General Howard. Good afternoon, Colonel Perry.
Mr. West is short, his hair long, loose and black. He possesses in common with his in-law Chief Joseph the following quality: Whether that smile or grimace of his expresses pain will never be betrayed. The general memorizes his face, picks up a pen and commences writing as neatly as a lady.
So you come from Mr. Brown?
Sure.
Have you read these letters which you brought?
No. They were sealed.
That’s right. Now tell us in your own words what you have seen at Mount Idaho.
Cottonwood House white people killed in the night time.
How many?
Mr. Day, he is dying. Maybe dead now. Mr. Norton dead in the road. And Mrs. Norton, she get a bullet through both legs. Mr. Moore, I didn’t see his wound, but they say he get a bullet in the hip. Chamberlain family, they almost all dead. Mr. Chamberlain shot. One child, they cut out his tongue and cut his neck. A very good boy; I like him. Maybe he is dying, maybe not. The other one, they crush his face between their knees, crush him like a louse! He is dead in the road, with his brains squeezed out. I saw him, general, I am telling you three times! Mrs. Chamberlain in bad shape. Very bad Indians. They rape her, take turns, and—
That’s enough.
They say seven more white people dead on the Salmon River, but I don’t know.
Who did it?
Maybe Salmon River Indians.
Nez Perces?
I think so.
Were Chief Joseph and his confederates involved?
Maybe,
gazing down through the window into the silverleaved cottonwoods along the river.
But I don’t know.
Thank you, Mr. West. If you would kindly wait outside, I’ll prepare a letter to Mr. Brown.
Without a word, Mr. West turns his back, opens the door, passes through, and gently shuts it behind him. The general writes for another moment, signs his name, and lays down his pen.
Well, colonel?
Sir, since the Salmon is White Bird’s hunting grounds—
I’m aware of that. When will your transportation arrive?
Within the hour, general.
So your men are prepared to move out to-night?
They sure are, general.
Fletch, send for Captain Trimble and come straight back here. Colonel Perry, bide here an instant. Is Wilkinson back yet?
Waiting outside, sir.
Send him in.
Yes, sir.
Wilkinson, are you ready?
Yes, sir.
Lieutenant Bomus will accompany you. I think the best plan would be to ride to Lewiston, and then requisition a stagecoach.
Yes, sir.
It’s a hundred and ten miles to Walla-Walla—
Yes, sir. We can be there by to-morrow morning.
Early morning, if possible.
Yes, sir. We’ll ride like blazes.
I know you will! Bomus, is your buggy ready?
Yes, sir.
Here’s a despatch to Colonel Wood in Portland. Is it legible?
Yes, sir.
Seal it then. Fletch, come in. And I’ve drawn up this other despatch to General McDowell in San Francisco just now after examining Mr. West. Gentlemen, although I bear the responsibility, I do invite your opinions. Fletch, would you kindly read it back to us before it’s sealed?
Yes, sir. Indians began by murdering a white man in revenge for a murder of his. Since then they have begun war upon the people near Mount Idaho.
Stop an instant. You understand that General Sherman himself will see this. Can we offer him more than a theory regarding the identity of these murderers?
Toohhoolhoolzote, sir? All the Dreamers could be behind it, but—
Looking-Glass?
I think he’s loyal, sir. When that half-breed rode in just now—
You mean Mr. West?
Yes, sir. When he came here, Looking-Glass’s brother accompanied him without fear. A good Indian—
Then could Joseph have done this?
But, general, he seemed quite reconciled. Remember how we raced horses with him and he was laughing like a child?
What about White Bird? You heard Colonel Perry’s opinion.
Sir, he kept hiding behind his fan—
Personally, sir, I’d suspect Ollicut, who dominates his brother—
All right. We don’t know. We’ll leave it at Indians. You know, gentlemen, I would have done anything to prevent this.
Yes, sir.
Colonel, the next chapter depends on you. By the way, has Mrs. Perry reached The Dalles safely?
Yes, sir. Thank you for asking.
What a stainless wife! My beau ideal of an Army woman! All the same, she’s better off downriver. Yes, Trimble, come in. As I’ve informed Colonel Perry, we’ll need both companies to march for Mount Idaho by dusk at the latest. What is it now, Fletch?
Yes, sir, the half-breed—
Here’s his letter to take back to Mr. Brown. But he’s to wait. Seal it up.
Yessir.
Colonel Perry, Captain Trimble, you’d better galvanize your troops. No delay will be accepted. I’ll inspect both companies shortly. That’s all.
Yessir.
Lieutenant Bomus, give me back that paper for a moment. Now I’ve added the bit about Colonel Perry’s command. As you see, it should be inserted here. Can you read it?
Yes, sir. It’s very clear.
Now read back the rest.
Other troops are being brought forward as fast as possible. Give me authority for twenty-five scouts. Think we will make short work of it.
That’s right. Now here’s one more despatch for San Francisco; don’t read it back; just seal it. And here’s a private letter for Portland. Wilkinson, Bomus, are you ready to set out?
Yes, sir.
After the telegraph goes through, please have someone inform Mrs. Trimble and Mrs. Parnell that their husbands have marched on duty with Colonel Perry. I’ll visit Mrs. Theller myself and see how she’s getting along. Wait in Walla-Walla until an answer comes through from Portland. Colonel Wood will inform you when we can expect the troops and supplies to arrive in Lewiston.
Yes, sir.
After you hear from Portland, if no reply has come in from San Francisco, ride back to Lewiston and show Colonel Wood’s reply to Colonel Watkins. Agent Monteith should be present in case he can supply any new information; I believe he’s riding out to-morrow. And while you’re in Lewiston, use your eyes, both of you, because I need to know what mood Smohallie’s Indians are in.
Yes, sir.
Then good-bye and good luck to both of you, he says, beginning to write something else.
Good-bye, sir, they reply.
Fletch, prepare a clean copy of this other letter to Mr. Brown as quickly as you can. Mr. West will ride in company with the troops. Where’s Looking-Glass’s brother?
Gone, sir, back to his reservation.
All right.
What news of Perry’s wagons?
Another half-hour, general.
I’ll hold Colonel Watkins responsible if they’re not in time.
Yes, sir. General, I was supposed to remind you—
What?
Your son’s birthday—
Yes. Ten years old to-day. Kind of you, Fletch—
He rises and thankfully departs this stifling little cabin, which is dark, cracked and resinous. All his life he has loved the outdoors. He breathes deep. The afternoon is nearly over; the pack mules have finally arrived from Lewiston. Striding across the parade ground to the cavalry corral, he finds Perry’s bunch stowing their three days’ rations in their saddlebags and patching their trousers. They are eager to ride, their hopes as blue as the Clearwater River. Some of them helped Crook clean up the Pi-Utes ten years ago; several fought the Secceshes. As for Perry, who thinks nothing of marching through knee-deep snow just to capture a couple of squaws, he certainly has “sand” enough, praise GOD. And Perry’s men, how happy they appear, to see a little more action in their Indian service! The canny ones rub soap or tallow inside their shoes. Two very young shavetails sit reënforcing the seats and knees of their breeches with white canvas patches. The post trader is making the rounds, offering cocaine at a dollar twenty-five a bottle, although only one tall, nervous soldier pulls out his money; from the way he keeps blinking in the sun, he probably wishes to get some medicine for his eyes. A swarm of Germans reënters the long barracks at a trot, then rushes out again, several of them with bundles for the laundresses. Anyhow, they have a half-hour yet. He likes Germans; they remind him of his old Eleventh Corps. Glancing north, he sees the sentry striding imperturbably back and forth before the guardhouse. He nearly expects to glimpse Mrs. Perry peeking out the window of her pleasant home, but of course she is absent. The FitzGerald children remain out of the way, thank goodness. LORD, how warm Lapwai can be! The arid hill across the river seems to reflect the sunshine back upon the parade ground, which of course must be an illusion. His forehead glows as if he were helping Lizzie pull the soup-pot out of the fireplace. Anyhow he is long past caring about sunburn. He approaches quietly, not wishing to spook Perry’s bunch. Mr. West, man of the hour, draws a map in the dirt, marking the known locations of dead white people with little sticks. The infantry are especially interested. Perceiving the general, they leap to their feet and salute; at which he smiles silently. The horses dance about, flirting their heads and shaking their tails against the flies; and the mule drivers keep packing food, powder and bullets into even loads on the aparejos.
Perry, I’ll ensure that you get credit for Joseph’s capture.
Thank you, general. And if Theller—
We’ll see. How long have you known him?
O, a good long while! Since before the Modocs—
He looks grand in his trial blues. Good hunting to both of you.
Thanks, general.
Now, Perry, do you need anything?
No, sir.
On the other side of the parade ground, Company “H” is in a slightly more advanced state of preparedness, nobody rushing in and out of barracks, the mules nearly all packed, Trimble beaming and bustling in his old slouch hat, which must be left over from the Modoc War.
Well, captain, everything in order?
Couldn’t be better, general.
Where did you get that cartridge belt?
Made it myself, sir.
A neat job. Are your recruits ready to fight?
They’re as pleased as children to get out into the field.
How’s Lieutenant Parnell?
A great right hand to me, sir.
Good. By the way, Trimble, I’m sure you know that I hold you in equal regard with Colonel Perry. He’s in command simply because he has the brevet. Otherwise I’d hardly know how to choose between you—
Thanks for saying so, sir. I’m proud to follow his orders—
Carry on.
Mrs. FitzGerald’s children stare at him from Perry’s front porch.
The leather perfume of the harness shop he has always liked. All trim appears in good to excellent condition. He passes by, impatient to hear the bugle blow “Assembly,” and arrives at the Thellers’ residence. Mrs. Theller, white-bonneted, is currying her husband’s stallion.— Good afternoon, General Howard, she says.
Good afternoon, madam. You women have the harder part, staying home and waiting. I pray that Lieutenant Theller won’t be away from us long.
Thank you, General Howard. I’ll be all right.
A spirited Appaloosa! Your husband rides fearlessly—
He’s always loved fast horses—
Please come to me if you need anything.
The woman nods and tries to smile, brushing pale brown horsehairs off her dark skirt.
He draws Perry aside to say: We both know that ninety-odd men may not suffice for the work ahead, but if we wait for reënforcements, these renegades will keep on murdering.
I understand, sir. We’ll do our best.
I know you will! The Congressional penny-pinchers can’t begin to understand the requirements of our Indian service—
No, sir.
Form up!
Have I ever told you how General Sherman refers to the situation? He calls it the Quaker policy.
That’s sure how it is, general—
Remember, colonel, these Indians aren’t Modocs. Show firmness, and they’ll come right around.
Company “H,” present!
Yessir.
Well, Captain Trimble, your men make a brave show.
Thanks, general.
Company “F,” present!
And yours also, colonel.
We mean well anyhow, sir—
And I expect you to do well.
Thank you, sir.
A beautiful afternoon.
Yessir.
What is it, Perry?
Sir, do you suppose Joseph is actually behind this?
We did forget, I think, that even in the veins of Joseph there runs some of the Cayuse blood on his mother’s side. And it was the Cayuses who massacred the Whitman couple who labored so devotedly to bring them to GOD. Blood tells! Why lose sight of that?
Yes, sir.
How soon will you be ready?
In a quarter-hour, sir. We’re just watering the mules. The horses have drunk their fill.
Very good. When Mrs. Perry arrives in Portland, my wife will look after her.
I sure appreciate it, general. What now, Theller?
Beg to report, colonel, the men can march out at once.
Well, sound “Boots and Saddles.”
“Boots and Saddles!”
Who’s your bugler?
John Jones, general.
He blows with verve . . .
I’ll tell him, sir.
Where’s Mr. West?
He’s fixing to ride ahead, sir. I gave him a fresh horse—
Don’t let him out of your sight until Grangeville.
Yessir.
All right, Perry. Fletch, come over here.
Yessir.
They look slouchy.
Well, our postwar Army—
What’s your impression?
Trimble’s all right, general. A brick. After all, he’s the one who captured Captain Jack. Parnell I don’t know so well, but he seems solid. Sure helped Crook whip the Pi-Utes! And Perry and Theller are like brothers.
Do go on.
Sir, Wilkinson always says that the difference between Theller and Perry is the difference between local time and railroad time.
Don’t get tricky on me. Anyhow, the responsibility’s mine. Send for Theller.
Yessir.
Lieutenant Theller, a private word.
Yes, sir.
It’s natural that your wife’s alarmed.
General, it’s just that she and Mrs. Osborne used to attend the same church. But Delia’s got plenty of “sand” in her, actually. When Colonel Perry and I were chasing the Modocs she even—
Of course she does. And I promise to look after her.
GOD bless her, but she adores him almost too much for an Army wife! To me she resembles a nurse holding a wounded soldier’s hand
like that pretty, gentle young widow at Mount Pleasant Hospital, as modest as Lizzie (who always buttons her collar right up to the throat); her name escapes me; she sat with our boys when they were dying, and I remember one handsome lieutenant from Connecticut who had never been engaged and asked most respectfully if he could kiss her on the lips. She held him while he bled to death.
Thank you kindly, sir. I appreciate it.
That will be all, lieutenant. Now, where’s Perry?
Sir, we’re all in order. A hundred and three effectives.
Well, they make a very fine appearance, and so do you, my boys. Go and show these Indians their mistake.
So we will. Good-bye, general!
Good-bye, colonel. You must not get whipped.
No danger of that, sir! Sound the move out.
Yes, sir.
Forward!
Forward—
to the bugles’ two long notes of walking-music,
the line of cavalry troops as if on parade
a fine dust of desiccated horse manure now powdering everyone’s lips
and the regimental band drawn up, serenading Perry
and the jingle of blue-clad men and the smell of horses in the golden grass
of what will be the United States of America
as Mrs. Theller, Mrs. FitzGerald and all the laundresses wave their handkerchiefs so proudly
