His name was Stone Dreamer. He was frail; eighty winters. All his teeth were gone, and his hair resembled a few thin strands of gray wool. Yet he had proud eyes, and his wits hadn't deserted him, as old men's wits so often did.
He was called Stone Dreamer because of his youthful vision-seeking. When he went apart, fasting and praying to the One Who Made All Things, his eyes blurred briefly, and then the various-sized stones on the ground rose into the air, hovered before him, and spoke in turn about deep, important matters.
Stones, like so many natural objects, were holy to the Cheyennes. Stones symbolized permanence, the unchanging verities of life, the everlasting earth, and the One who shaped it from nothing. Stone Dreamer's vision taught him that, compared to these things, the ambitions, loves, hatreds of a mortal were blades of grass tossed by a windstorm. They were as nothing.
When he returned from the wilderness, he told the council of his vision. The elders were impressed. Here was a young man clearly meant for a special life. He was instructed to become a Bowstring, a member of the society of the brave, the pure, and the celibate, who could be equally comfortable slaying enemies in battle or philosophizing on issues of peace and tribal life.
So he joined and rose through the ranks. Bowstring, Bowstring Society leader, village chief when he grew too old for fighting, peace chief when he grew older still. In October of 1867, he put up his tipi with two hundred fifty others sheltering about fifteen hundred Cheyennes at the western end of the natural basin of the Medicine Lodge Valley. This was' three days' ride from the sun-dance ground to be used by the great caravan of white chiefs with guns who were moving down from the north to make peace with the five Southern tribes.
About three thousand Comanches, Kiowas, Kiowa-Apaches and Arapahoes encamped within twenty miles of the treaty site. They were eager for the gifts of soap and brass bills, tin cups and iron pans, blankets and calico, as well as the weapons described to them by Murphy, the Indian superintendent, who had ranged lower Kansas ahead of the great caravan, urging the tribes to come in. The Cheyennes would not go as close as the other tribes because they had certain memories uniquely their own. Chivington. Sand Creek. The Pawnee Fork.
The peace parley began at the site not far above the demarcation line between Kansas and the Indian Territory. A special emissary rode all the way to the Cheyenne encampment to ask that they, too, meet with the white chiefs. In due course, all the elders were consulted. "What do you think, Stone Dreamer?" he was asked.
"We should go," he said. "But not for the gifts. We should go because it is folly to wage a war that cannot be won. The white men are too many. We are too few. If we do not live in harmony with them, they will trample us to nothing."
He hated to say such bitter words, but he believed them. A renegade whiskey peddler, Glyn, had once showed Stone Dreamer a picture of a white man's town; it was an engraving of Fifth Avenue in New York, from Leslie's, though Stone Dreamer didn't know any of those specifics. He merely covered his mouth and popped his eyes at the inexpressible wonders he saw on the page.
He saw rows of solid structures he presumed were forts, lining both sides of a broad way. Along this way, scores of horse-drawn vehicles traveled in both directions, surrounded by hundreds of people on foot. This was but one tiny part of one white man's village, the trader said, and there were hundreds of such villages.
So Stone Dreamer, who wanted to pass his final winters sensibly, at peace, spoke for accommodation. Some others, among them his friend the peace chief Black Kettle, agreed. Other war chiefs including the unquestionably brave Roman Nose did not. Nor for the most part did the younger men, especially those rising to leadership in the soldier societies. When Stone Dreamer considered the headstrong behavior of this group, he sadly concluded that age no longer generated respect, and traditional tribal discipline was breaking down. One of the most feared and admired young men, also undeniably brave but needlessly cruel in Stone Dreamer's opinion, ranted and swore that he'd never submit to the white chiefs while he could draw breath.
These words of Man-Ready-for-War carried special weight, for it was almost certain that he would be chosen a Dog-String Wearer next spring at the annual reorganization of his society. The Dog-String was a wide hide sash, about nine feet long and decorated with paint, quills, and eagle feathers. Four Dog Society men were awarded the sash each year. Those so honored for bravery wore the sash in battle, slipping it over the head by means of a long center slit.
The bottom of the Dog-String bore either a red-painted wood peg or a shorter slit to accommodate the point of a lance. If a battle went badly, it was the privilege of the Dog-Strings to peg or pin their sashes to the ground, signaling their intent to stand and give their lives, so the others might escape. A Dog-String Wearer's death was special, heroic, and was described in song and tale long after his bones went to dust and blew away.
Man-Ready-for-War and young men like him spoke more persuasively than old men like Stone Dreamer. So the Cheyennes remained apart in the valley of the Medicine Lodge, while other great Indian chiefs — frail Satank, who proudly wore a medal graven with the head of James Buchanan; bearlike Santana, another feared Kiowa, who favored a U.S. Artillery officer's coat — led their deputations to the conference ground, listened to the soothing words of the white chiefs, made their marks on a treaty paper that gave away still more of their tribal land, and then, rewarded, reveled in the distribution of the trade goods and guns.
Still the Cheyennes remained apart, though contrary pressure began to grow because of the gifts. Man-Ready-for-War sneered at the idea of a birthright sold for a few bolts of cheap cloth or pistols he had heard were defective. Sadly, Stone Dreamer decided that his wish to live out his last winters peaceably was to be denied.
The shadows of October lengthened and grew cooler. Then, almost on the day when the white chiefs were to pull down their great canvas marquees and ride away, a last emissary came riding among the heavily armed Cheyennes, bringing a last plea for them to come in. Stone Dreamer argued for it almost all of one night. Finally, about four hundred who were willing to face the scorn and wrath of the rest agreed to go in, since about fifteen hundred Arapahoes were also going. Stone Dreamer took heart.
He rode to the conference ground as part of a mounted band, careful to stay near his wise and good friend Black Kettle, and away from a party of Dog Society men who decided to go at the last minute. For what purpose Stone Dreamer wasn't sure, unless it was to replenish their arms or, more likely, make trouble. At one point some of these heavily armed Dog Soldiers rode near him, and he overheard jocular talk of a fierce demonstration for the whites.
Stone Dreamer wore his finest tribal raiment, while Black Kettle wore a long blue robe and the tall hat of a U.S. dragoon. This was not so offensive, in Stone Dreamer's view, as the Army coats some of the Dog men wore in lieu of traditional shirts. The plundered coats bore holes torn by lead balls or lance points that had killed the original wearers. Some of the young men made it even worse by pinning on stolen medals, or hanging Christian crosses around their necks.
In the failing light, the pale and melancholy light of a dying day, the Cheyennes reached the creek and saw on the far side the marquees and Army tents, the wagons and horses and massed blue uniforms of the Commission party. The Dog Soldiers immediately began to wave lances and rifles, howl and hoot and sing. Several charged straight across the creek in a threatening way. The white-bearded chief in charge of the Commission held up his hand to signal restraint to his men. Stone Dreamer saw many Army rifles gleaming as the howling braves splashed through the creek. At the last moment they checked, and rocked with laughter at the expense of the anxious whites.