In the Footsteps of Crazy Horse: Chapters 7–8

There was a scenic overlook.

There was a scenic overlook.

“In May of 1877, after weeks of travel, they came that far,” Grandpa Nyles said. “I imagine from there they could look down into the valley and see Fort Robinson. That moment, when they were looking down, was a critical time.”

In the end, Crazy Horse and the elders thought the welfare of the women, the children, and the old people was more important.

Several riders had stopped their horses at the edge of the bluff.

“We know the answers,” Crazy Horse retorted sadly.

He glared at the distant white-man buildings.

Down in the valley was the Long Knife stronghold.

But waiting, also, was a new and unknown way of life under the control of whites. That unknown made Crazy Horse’s people reluctant to finish their long and arduous journey.

His voice was loud, strong, and defiant.

Crazy Horse dismounted and led his horse toward the Long Knife. A few paces from the man, he stopped.

He was careful not to point the muzzle toward the Long Knife.

He gazed at them evenly, no anger or apprehension in his eyes, only a quiet calmness.

The old man’s voice had faltered as he told the story.

The whites were afraid of him. After all, he had fought the great General Crook to a standstill at Rosebud Creek, and he defeated Custer at the Greasy Grass.

They were afraid he would lead an uprising against them.

“On the other hand, some of the Lakota leaders were jealous of him. They were afraid the Indian Bureau would make him chief over them. So basically someone decided to get him out of the way. I think the intent was to send him to Florida and put him in prison there.”

“Yeah, there were prisons there. Indians from various tribes were sent there, notably Cheyenne and Apache. Anyway, Crazy Horse knew there was trouble coming, so he wanted to talk to General Crook, the man in charge. He took Black Shawl to safety, to the village of his cousin Touch the Clouds, east of here.”

“They escorted him back here,” Grandpa Nyles continued.

But when all this commotion was happening, because people were yelling, a soldier came around the building.

He saw a Lakota fighting with the Indian policemen, so he thrust his rifle, with a long bayonet on the end of the barrel, at Crazy Horse.

“The wound was serious—a mortal wound, as they say. He fell there, at that spot. Later he was taken to the post infirmary—the hospital, I guess. He finally slipped away around midnight. His father and his cousin Touch the Clouds were with him.”

“The wound was serious—a mortal wound, as they say. He fell there, at that spot. Later he was taken to the post infirmary—the hospital, I guess. He finally slipped away around midnight. His father and his cousin Touch the Clouds were with him.”

Jimmy’s mom bounded out of the house when they pulled into the driveway.

It felt good to be home, to see his mom again, to hear her voice, to feel her hands caressing his face.

“A very special journey, that’s what it was. The visionary journey of Jimmy McClean and his grandpa.”

Jesse Little Horse simply grinned in that cocky, mocking way he had.

Jesse Little Horse simply grinned in that cocky, mocking way he had.

“Yeah,” chimed in Jesse. “Didn’t think we’d have to teach you a lesson on the first day of school.”

After all, Crazy Horse, when he was Light Hair, had endured worse than Corky Brin and Jesse Little Horse.