Red Devils - 8 - Cora Sue Reads about Custer's Death

Here are the notes that Cora Sue made on White Cow Bull’s Story.

WHITE COW BULL'S STORY OF THE BATTLE – written by the newspaper’s reporter.

  White Cow Bull, I learned, had earned the name at age fourteen by shooting a stray longhorn bull with a single arrow.

The Shahiyela [Cheyenne] camp was farthest north. We Oglala were camped just southeast of them, with the Brule in a smaller circle next to us. Next were the Sans Arc, then the Miniconjou, the Blackfoot Sioux, and farthest south next to the river were the Hunkpapa. I was twenty-eight years old that summer.

While we were together in this village, I spent most of my time with the Shahiyela since I knew their tongue and their ways almost as well as my own. In all those years I had never taken a wife, although I had had many women. One woman I wanted was a pretty young Shahiyela named Monaseetah. She was in her middle twenties but had never married any man of her tribe. Some of my Shahiyela friends said she was from the southern branch of their tribe, just visiting up north, and they said no Shahiyela could marry her because she had a seven-year-old son born out of wedlock and that tribal law forbade her getting married. They said the boy's father had been a white soldier chief named Long Hair (George A Custer). He (Custer) had killed her father, Chief Black Kettle, in a battle in the south [Washita Massacre] eight winters before, they said, and captured her. He had told her he wanted to make her his second wife, and so he had her. But afterwhile his first wife, a white woman, found her out and made him let her go.

"Was this boy still with her here?" I asked him.

I saw him often around the Shahiyela camp. He was named Yellow Bird and he has light streaks in his hair. He was always with his mother in the daytime, so I would have to wait until night to try to talk to her alone. She knew I wanted to walk with her under a courting blanket and make her my wife. But she would only talk with me through the tepee cover and never came outside.

"Tell me about the battle with Long Hair," I said.

That morning many of the Oglalas were sleeping late. The night before, we held a scalp dance to celebrate the victory over Gray Fox [General Crook] on the Rosebud a week before. I woke up hungry and went to a nearby tepee to ask an old woman for food. As I ate, she said:

"Today attackers are coming."

"How do you know, Grandmother?" I asked her, but she would say nothing more about it.

After I finished eating I caught my best pony, an iron-gray gelding, and rode over to the Cheyenne camp circle. I looked all over for Meotzi (my name for Monaseetah) and finally saw her carrying firewood up from the river. The boy was with her, so I just smiled and said nothing. I rode on to visit with my Shahiyela friend Roan Bear. He was a Fox warrior, belonging to one of that tribe's soldier societies, and was on guard duty that morning.

The first we knew of any attack was after midday, when we saw dust and heard shooting way to the south near the Hunkpapa camp circle.

Just then an Oglala came riding into the circle at a gallop.

"Soldiers are coming!" he shouted in Sioux. "Many white men are attacking!"

I put this into a shout of Shahiyela words so they would know. I saw the Shahiyela chief, Two Moon, run into camp from the river, leading three or four horses. He hurried toward his tepee, yelling:

"Natskaveho! White soldiers are coming! Everybody run for your horses!"

"Hay-ay! Hay-ay!" The Shahiyela warriors shouted their war cry, waiting in a big band for Two Moon to lead them into battle.

"Warriors, don't run away if the soldiers charge you," he told them. "Stand and fight them. Watch me. I'll stand even if I am sure to be killed!"

It was a brave-up talk to make them strong in their fight. Two Moon led them out at a gallop.

After Two Moon's band left to fight Major Reno, a new threat developed from Custer's detachment advancing down Medicine Tail coulée toward the river and the Cheyenne camp.

"They're coming this way!" Bobtail Horse shouted. "Across the ford! We must stop them!"

We saw the soldiers in the coulée were getting closer and closer to the ford, so we trotted out to meet them. An old Shahiyela named Mad Wolf, riding a rack-of-bones horse, tried to stop us, saying:

"My sons, do not charge the soldiers. There are too many. Wait until our brothers come back to help!"

He rode along with us a way, whining about how such a small war party would have no chance against a whole army. Finally Bobtail Horse told him:

"Uncle, only Earth and the Heavens last long. If we four can stop the soldiers from capturing our camp, our lives will be well spent."

Bobtail Horse said: "They are our enemies, guiding the soldiers here."

He fired his muzzle loader at them, then squatted behind the ridge to reload. I fired at them too, for I saw they were shooting at the five Sioux warriors, who were now splashing across the ford at a dead run. My rifle was a repeater, so I kept firing at the Crows until these Sioux were safely on our side of the river. They had no guns, just lances and bows and arrows. But they got off their ponies and joined us behind the ridge. Just then I saw a Shahiyela named White Shield, armed with bow and arrows, come riding downriver. He was alone, but we were glad to have another fighting man with us. That made ten of us to defend the ford.

I looked across the ford and saw that the soldiers had stopped at the edge of the river. I had never seen white soldiers before, so I remember thinking how pink and hairy they looked. One white man had little hairs on his face [a mustache] and was wearing a big hat and a buckskin jacket. He was riding a fine looking big horse, a sorrel with a blazed face and four white stockings. On one side of him was a soldier carrying a flag and riding a gray horse, and on the other was a small man on a dark horse. This small man didn't look much like a white man to me, so I gave the man in the buckskin jacket my attention. He was looking straight at us across the river. Bobtail Horse told us all to stay hidden so this man couldn't see how few of us there really were.

The man in the buckskin jacket seemed to be the leader of these soldiers, for he shouted something and they all came charging at us across the ford. Bobtail Horse fired first, and I saw a soldier on a gray horse (not the flag carrier) fall out of his saddle into the water. The other soldiers were shooting at us now. The man who seemed to be the soldier chief was firing his heavy rifle fast. I aimed my repeater at him and fired. I saw him fall out of his saddle and hit the water.

Shooting that man stopped the soldiers from charging on. They all reined up their horses and gathered around where he had fallen. I fired again, aiming this time at the soldier with the flag. I saw him go down as another soldier grabbed the flag out of his hands. By this time the air was getting thick with gun smoke and it was hard to see just what happened. The soldiers were firing again and again, so we were kept busy dodging bullets that kicked up dust all around. When it cleared a little, I saw the soldiers do a strange thing. Some of them got off their horses in the ford and seemed to be dragging something out of the water, while other soldiers still on horseback kept shooting at us.

Suddenly we heard war cries behind us. I looked back and saw hundreds of Lakotas [Sioux] and Shahiyela warriors charging toward us. They must have driven away those other soldiers who had attacked the Hunkpapa camp circle and now were racing to help us drive off these attackers. The soldiers must have seen them too, for they fell back to the far bank of the river, and those still on horseback got off to fight on foot. As warriors rode up to join us at the ridge a big cry went up.

"Hoka hey!" the Lakotas were shouting. "They are going!"

I saw this was true. The soldiers were running back up the coulée and swarming out over the higher ground to the north. Bobtail Horse ran to his pony, shouting to us as we caught our ponies.

"Come on! They are running! Hurry!"

He and I led the massed warriors across the ford, for the others knew we had stood bravely to protect the village and willingly followed us.

Another warrior named Yellow Nose, a Sapawicasa [Ute] who had been captured as a boy by the Shahiyela and had grown up with them, was very brave that day. After we chased the soldiers back from the ford, he galloped out in front of us and got very close to them, then raced back to safety.

I kept riding with the Shahiyelas, still hoping that some of them might tell Meotzi later about my courage. We massed for another charge. The Shahiyela chief, Comes-in-Sight, and a warrior named Contrary Belly led us that time. The soldiers' horses were so frightened by all the noise we made that they began to bolt in all directions. The soldiers held their fire while they tried to catch their horses. Just then Yellow Nose rushed in again and grabbed a small flag from where the soldiers had stuck it in the ground. He carried it off and struck blows on a soldier with its sharp end. He was proving his courage more by counting that coup than if he had killed the soldier.

Now I saw the soldiers were split into two bands, most of them on foot and shooting as they fell back to higher ground, so we made no more mounted charges. I found cover and began shooting at the soldiers. I was a good shot and had one of the few repeating rifles carried by any of our warriors. It was up to me to use it the best way I could. I kept firing at the two bands of soldiers first at one, then at the other. It was hard to see through the smoke and dust, but I saw five soldiers go down when I shot at them.

Once in a while some warrior showed his courage by making a charge all by himself. I saw one Shahiyela, wearing a spotted war bonnet and a spotted robe of mountain-lion skins, ride out alone.

"He's charging!" someone shouted.

He raced up to the long ridge where the soldiers of one band were making a defence standing there holding their horses and keeping up a steady fire. This Shahiyela charged in almost close enough to touch some of the soldiers and rode around in circles in front of them with bullets kicking up dust all around him. He came galloping back, and we all cheered him.

"Ah! Ah!" he said, meaning "yes" in Shahiyela.

Then he unfastened his belt and opened his robe and shook many spent bullets out on the ground.

It was a day of bravery - even for our soldier enemies. They all fought well and died in courage, except for one soldier on a sorrel horse. He broke away from the others and started riding off down the ridge. Two Shahiyelas and a Lakota chased after him, shooting at him as they rode. But the soldier's horse was fast and they couldn't catch him I saw him yank out his revolver and thought he was going to shoot back at these warriors. Instead he put the revolver to his head, pulled the trigger, and fell dead.

In a little while all my bullets were gone. But by that time the soldiers lay still. We had killed them all. The battle was over. Soon we were shouting victory yells. When the women and children heard us, they came out on the ridge to strip the bodies and catch some of the big horses the soldiers had ridden. Some women had lost husbands or brothers or sons in the fight, so they butchered the soldiers' bodies to show their grief and anger.

I began looking for bullets and weapons in the piles of dead bodies. Near the top of the ridge I saw a naked body and turned it over. The face had little hairs on it and looked like the white man who had worn the buckskin jacket and had leered at me across the ford - the same one I had shot off his horse. I remembered how close some of his bullets had come, so I thought I would take the medicine of his trigger finger to make me an even better shot. Taking out my knife. I began to cut off that finger.

Just then I heard a woman's voice behind me. I turned to see Meotzi and Yellow Bird and an older Shahiyela woman standing there. The older woman pointed to the while man's body, saying:

"He is our relative."

Then she signed for me to go away. I looked at Meotzi then and smiled, but she didn’t smile back at me, so I wondered if she thought it was wrong for a warrior to be cutting on an enemy's body. I decided she wouldn't be as proud of me if I cut off the white man's finger, and moved away. Pretending to be busy looking for bullets, I glanced back. Meotzi was looking down at the body while the older woman poked her sewing awl deep into each of the white man's ears. I heard her say:

"So Long Hair will hear better in the Spirit Land."

That was the first I knew that Long Hair was the soldier chief we had been fighting and the white man I had shot at the ford.

The tribes split up after their victory at Little Bighorn. I never saw Meotzi again after that summer.

*

I was aware that Cora Sue was having difficulty with writing and looked over at her. Tears were flowing down her face. “It is so hard,” she said, “to read and write about what happened to Pa. It is so awful.”

So I stopped writing too, and I hugged her until she stopped crying. I told her I felt I had to go on, but she didn’t need to if she couldn’t take it, and just about that time the coffee came, so we had a good excuse for a break.