After the Buffalo
written by Anne E. Schaff
adapted by Laura Koch
It's 1894 and you are a young Cheyenne . The buffalo herd have been the life of your people. From the flesh you have had meat. Buffalo tongue and liver are especially delicious. Buffalo hide has given you clothing, tepees, robes, moccasins, saddles, even dolls. Buffalo bones give you tools. Buffalo hair makes your rope.
Your men and boys have taken only the buffalo that you need to live. But now the whites have come. White hunters and white settlers have destroyed the great herds of buffalo. Once the buffalo are totally gone, what will become of the Cheyenne , your people? What will become of you, a young person?
"Already there are Cheyenne and Arapaho chiefs who have gone to the reservation ," your father says. Your father is chief of your tribe. "They have led their people to the reservation. They are now dead. They are penned up like dogs."
First the gold seekers came in 1849. You were a very small child then. The whites seemed wild with gold fever. Now the settlers come. They say buffalo leather is good for making shoes and belts. They kill as many buffalo as they can.
Your father's face is sad as he speaks. "Will we lose our freedom too? Will we be penned up like dogs?"
You know what a brave warrior your father is. He has fought with his ball-and-spike-head club. But the whites are like ants on sugar. There are so many of them and so few of you!
"Black Kettle and White Antelope speak of peace. They got to a camp at Sand Creek . They tell us to come too. They say the whites will let us be there. Is it an old man's fear that makes peace look so good? Tell me young one, what are your ideas.?"
You cannot imagine a life different from the one you have always known. You love your wild, free life. You love the races and dice games. But the white man's muskets pit out a quick death. Maybe if you went to Sand Creek you might stay free and at peace. Or is it a trap?
"Black Kettle and White Antelope are wise chiefs, aren't they, Father?" you ask.
He nods. "They say the whites will leave us alone at Sand Creek. We will not be forced into the reservation if we stay there. They tell me the Indians may camp peacefully at Fort Lyon or near by on Sand Creek."
"The lets us go there," you say.
You travel to Sand Creek. You see two flags flying. One is a white flag for peace. The other is an American flag. "Those flags," explains Black Kettle, "will protect is from soldiers."
There are about five hundred Cheyenne men, women and children here. They gather buffalo robes for the winter cold. You walk among then, worry stirring your heart.
A young Cheyenne says to you, "The Colorado soldier-the big general-has said they will fight us until we are finished. I think this is so. We are not safe. Sometime when we expect no trouble, it will come down on us like a storm."
"But the white commander said no soldiers will attack us here," you point out.
Your companion laughs. "I see this place as a trap. My family will pack and go from here. We have no taste for winter fighting, but death is in the wind. I would rather meet the white man warrior to warrior than be caught asleep!"
The words of the young man distrub you. You worry this is true.
You go looking for your father to share your fears with him. He listens and nods. "I too have heard frightening predictions from the medicine man ," your father says. "We will go."
Your father leads you and his band of Cheyenne from Sand Creek into the mountains. You will not be completely safe anywhere. But at least the whites will not know where you are
A few days later, Black Kettle and a few young warriors ride into your camp. Their eyes are wide with hate.
"All dead!" cries Black Kettle. "Our women, our children, most of our warriors are dead!"
"What happened?" you ask.
"The white Colonel Chivington rode into camp as we slept. They charged, firing and bayoneting . I raised the American flag. Then I raised the white flag. They went on killing," wails Black Kettle.
All through the winter of 1864, the Cheyenne warriors take revenge on white settlements because of Sand Creek. Young people rip out telegraph wires. You hear the screams of white settlers and see bloody scalps.
One dark night, the soldiers come to your camp. After all the raids by the Cheyenne warriors, you are not surprised. You fight against the soldiers, but they are many. You see your father fall dead, and then your mother. Before you die yourself, you remember many things. You think of the fine tipi covered in buffalo hide. You remember the porcupine embroidery and bead work that brightened your clothing. Most of all you remember the happy times. There was much buffalo meat for feasting and there was dancing and storytelling.
You know you would not have liked life on a reservation. So when the bullet enter your hear, you die without a struggle. It was perhaps more merciful than life would have been for you.
