Little Red Cloud and the Americans

By Hal Clay

Here is a story with humour, about a Native American Tribe living at a time in America during the rush to the West, and the take over of land from the white settlers. If you are looking for unusal events, this is highly recommended for the young reader. It shows what adventures an Indian boy can get involved in, trying to save his homeland. The time was 1830.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hal Clay
• Release date: Nov 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311092724

Hal Clay

Hal Clay has been in the Animation and Entertainment business since his youth, starting at the Walt Disney Studio and continuing as a freelance Animator and Script writer for TV spots and feature films and ending up in Europe for cultural reasons, and the love of Art. He now resides in Over Stowey, Somerset, England, and in Munich, Germany – teaching, painting, and writing humorous novels.

Book preview

1

THE PAWNEES. A quiet village lays nestled in a valley surrounded by small fields of corn. The Pawnee Indians can be seen moving between the many tepees in their part of the reservation. Others were working in the fields. Suddenly a dark purple cloud appeared in the sky above. Four Choctaw Indians from the host tribe were standing on a hill. The villagers looked up and saw this as a bad omen which the dark purple cloud usually came when they arrive to collect the tribute that their Chief demanded of the Pawnees. The men on the hill patted their leather money pouches, nodded to each other, and started down to the village and spread out in different directions to collect what they called Rent, which they said was the privilege for staying on Choctaw land. The tallest of the four collectors stopped at a tepee in the village and yelled angrily at the occupants.

Guess who is here?... Open up!

The farmer inside stops his work. Sadly he looked at his wife and baby girl, and shook his head.

Oh, no. They’re here again.

His wife was holding their baby girl. Can’t they leave us alone? This is no life for us.

The opening to the tepee was pushed aside and the Tribute Collector came in and smiled glaringly at the little family.

Oh, I hope I’m not interrupting anything. Now let’s see, there was something I wanted to say? He rubs his chin. What was it .? He goes up to the child and touches its nose with his finger. That’s it - The tribute! I remember - The rent is due. This is Choctaw-land, remember?"

The farmer looked at the man, But we don’t have any money to pay you. We will have to give you food again. That’s all we have.

Well, I guess that will have to do. Our Chief, Middle Size Buffalo is a generous man. What have you got?

The farmer went to a basket in the corner and held it up. We will have to give you our week’s supply of grain, and some vegetables and sugar beets.

Hmm, . . not much.

It’s all we’ve got.

The tribute collector walked impatiently over and took the offering and emptied it into a large sack.

"I guess I will have to come again - sooner the next time." He left, muttering angrily to himself.

The wife turned to her husband, How can the Pawnees live when we must give up food all the time?

The farmer shook his head hopelessly, "Even our Chief has to pay for what they call rent to those awful Choctaws."

In another part of the village, an Indian brewer was stirring liquid in a large copper kettle. Another emptied a basket of corn into the mixture, another filled up a large barrel of liquid, and another one poured out a sample of their Indian drink. Suddenly in the opening to the shed stood a fat Indian rent collector and smiled broadly, holding out his arms to show he is ready.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Where’s the kickiboo?"

Without saying anything the brewer handed him his earthen mug, meanwhile another Indian dragged up a large barrel for him to take away. The fat collector drank a long time, burped and smiled.

Now that’s what a real Choctaw needs - a drink! ... burps…

The brewer shook his fist at him, It’s not your kickiboo, it’s ours.

I know, I know ... By the way, how come you Pawnees can make such stuff? He held out his mug for more.

A settler from Scotland who was on his way West, showed us how.

What did you give him in return?

He took one of our squaws. That’s all.

Not much of a price for such a drink, I say. He swallowed.

The brewer sarcastically, He got the best squaw for the best kickiboo.

The fat collector rolled the barrel out of the tent. He stoped and turned, I’ll drink to that, my friend! and then he left with a laugh.

The brewer turned to his helpers, There goes half of our brew.

Their Chief must be pretty big to drink all that.

"He’s not so big. He’s just middle sized. That’s why they call

him Middle Sized Buffalo."

But where does all of our kickiboo go?

I hear his squaw drinks most of it. She’s really big.

But let’s move ahead to more unfortunate problems that confront the Pawnees:

Two Choctaw Collectors come down the hill carrying a large empty chest and walk towards the largest tent in the settlement - the royal household of Grey Thunder, an unhappy but proud Indian chieftain. As the Choctaws walk through the village, the Pawnees look and turn their heads away in disgust - Even the dogs turn away. Finally the collectors reach the Royal Tepee.

The Pawnees live pretty good if you ask me.

"Nobody asked you, besides this is only Chief Grey Thunder’s family that looks so fine. You should see how good the rest of the Pawnees look.

How can I tell, when they all turn away from us?

Come on, let’s take what we can from their Chief before he spends it all on food.

The collectors approach the large tent. Inside the walls are covered with bearskins and decorated with shields and weapons of all sorts. At one side an imposing but comfortable throne dominates the large tepee, guarded by two more Pawnee Indian guards, one a big Indian named Rumble Belly, the other half as large, is called Tiny Crow. Each is holding a lance. In the centre Chief Grey Thunder sits on a blanket playing a game of stones with his thirty year old niece Winona, a light skinned beauty with black oriental eyes. Grey Thunder sees the collectors entering the room. He looks hopelessly at his niece.

Oh no ... not again! He throws his stones down onto the blanket. Sorry my dear - just as it was getting interesting.

The boy sitting next to the Chief, asks Are they here for the rent, Father?

Yes, and for anything else they can think of, Little Red Cloud.

The two men stop in front of Grey Thunder, lower the chest to the ground and open it. Both bow broadly with sarcastic grins and wait.

"Little Red Cloud, could you bring in that bag of money for these . . foreigners?

I will, Father if you think it is all right. He leaves.

Grey Thunder looks at his niece. "... all right or not - we must."

Winona smiles, Uncle, I have the feeling that maybe things will get better some day.

Not much hope in that, my dear. The Americans forced us here, and we have no choice but to stay and pay for it.

Strange noises are heard coming from the hallway. Everyone waits until Little Red Cloud returns and places a bag on the floor.

Have them check to see if it is all there, Father.

Grey Thunder gestures to the men to look into the bag. One of the collectors opens it and looks inside. A fierce looking red scorpion leaps out and runs from the tent as the surprised tribute collector falls over backward. Everybody laughs, except the Chief.

Little Red Cloud, this is too serious to be making jokes. Middle Size Buffalo may not deserve it, but go and get the proper sack and give it to these men.

Winona is looking intensely at the stones in front of her.

Little Red Cloud returns again with another bag. The angry collector takes the bag, and puts it to his ear to listen if there is anything inside. Scowling at the boy, he puts the bag into the chest, closes the lid and without bowing the Collectors leave. They carry the chest outside, where it is lifted onto a wagon full of bags. They push the wagon through the silent village. The villagers in front of their tents watch the heavily loaded wagon moving slowly over a rise and out of sight.

As Little Red Cloud watches, Grey Thunder stands up and stamps his foot on the ground.

I’ve had enough! I hate this land.

Winona stares at the table, Uncle Grey Thunder, have a look at these stones!

I just gave away 5,000 gold pieces and twenty fox furs, and I’m supposed to spend my time playing with stones?

No, no, Uncle. Look carefully. Don’t you see the meaning?

Are you up to your fortune-telling again? All I see is a black stone, and over here a large red stone with lots of smaller ones in- between.

Look, on the right, the big black stone with six little ones in the middle - and far on the other side, two red stones. One is big, the other smaller. To me this is a tribal black King and a misplaced Red King so far away that they cannot get together.

The boy looks at Winona, Don’t stones get that way some times?

I’ve never seen them in this order, Little Red Cloud. I see the smaller red one next to the red King. That may have an important part to play. That could even be you.

Grey Thunder studies the stones on the blanket. I’m beginning to see what you mean, my dear, The Black one is that money -grabbing Middle Sized Buffalo, and the Red one is the honest Chief, (that’s me), and they can’t stand each other, right?

Little Red Cloud, lightheartedly, Maybe they should stay separated?

He looks at his son, I think you said the right thing, Little Red Cloud. Maybe the Red King should go his own way. Maybe ... The Chief lifts his arms and bangs his fists together. Maybe these stones are telling me that our Tribe has to get out of the claws of that Buffalo Chief and go west to Oklahoma, our own homeland.

Winona’s eyes brighten up, If we do go, we won’t have to pay tribute anymore.

Grey Thunder smiles and leans back. That’s right, Winona. We’ll be free from those blood-sucking collectors.

Why are we here in the first place, Father?

Our people were forced here by Andrew Jackson, the President of the United States. After the first Indian wars the government tried to keep the Indians out of our God-given land.

Little Red Cloud narrows his eyes. "Was that to keep us weak?

Winona, Well, that’s probably what he wanted. I guess.

Little Red Cloud jumps to his feet and shakes his fists. The Pawnees are not weak! We are strong Indians, and we will go west to Oklahoma if we want to!

Chief Grey Thunder gets up. . . and nobody is going to stop us - not even the whole American government!

A cry goes up, Yippi ... Hurrah ! It is from Rumble Belly and Tiny Crow.

Little Red Cloud picks up the stones on the blanket and tosses them up in the air - over and over again, laughing and dancing with Winona and his father. Rumble belly and Mini Crow join in. Grey Thunder’s brother, Flying Wolf enters the tepee and looks around,

What’s all the noise about?

We’re going to be free, Uncle Flying Wolf.

Outside the dark cloud that hovered over the settlement moved away, and the sun started to shine again.

Soon the news traveled outside to the people in the village, from one family to the other. An old Indian lady came out of her tepee and smiled at the sky.

The Spirits haven’t forgotten us. We are eternally grateful for your blessing.

A little child asked, What happened, Grandmother? Why is everybody jumping around?

Our tribe is going to leave for its homeland!

Where is our homeland, Grandmother?

It’s called Oklahoma, my child. That’s where I was born before we had to move to this place.

Was it better than here?

Much better. We had low hills and green grass, lovely woods and lake for you to swim in, if and when we get back.

Can I take my puppy with me?

I’m certain he will like Oklahoma too.

Everybody was excited and felt good to be a Pawnee now. The farmer danced with his wife and little girl. The men rode their ponies around in circles. In the centre the brewers sat on their barrels and sang. Grey Thunder and his family came out to join them. Luckily the sound of their revelry could not be heard over the hill.

THE CHOCTAWS lived not far away. On their side of the hill they had a larger and more solidly built village with real homes for their tribe. On the edge of the settlement was an imposing fortress with high walls. This was the Palace of the Chieftain, Middle Size Buffalo - leader of his folk. It was he that made a treaty with the Americans, guaranteeing that he controls any other Indian tribe allotted to his Reservation, the Pawnees being one of them. For this, he could demand tribute.

In his palace courtyard Chief Middle Size Buffalo, a small fat man on his horse, is struggling to get the animal moving. He is not a good rider, and the horse knows it. Middle Size wants to go forward, but the horse will only go backwards. The rider is not a strong leader.

Aw, come on now Horsey ... can’t you please me just a little bit?

The horse shakes its head, and then backs up in circles. The rider is doing all he can to control his horse but to no avail. A messenger rides through the gates, stopping in front of his Chief.

Sire. I have urgent news for you!

This upsets Middle Size who is not used to getting messages. He loses his balance and falls to the ground with one leg still in the stirrup. The horse now walks forwards dragging the rider with him. He smiles at the messenger, pointing at the horse, You see, he can do it. He’s going forward!

The messenger dismounts and stops the horse. Middle Size is still on the ground with his leg in the stirrup,

You had something to tell me?

The Pawnees are revolting, Sire.

Yes, I always thought so. Quite a stinky lot, but is that important?

What I meant was - they want to leave for their homeland. They refuse to pay anymore tax, Sire.

Trying to get out of the stirrup, They should be glad to pay tax to me, and not to the Americans. They must not leave! Besides they make the best drink I’ve ever tasted. Where is my Commander? He must do something!

The horse moves off, pulling Middle Sized Buffalo after him, smiling, pointing embarrassingly to the horse as if it was his fault.

Where is my commander ... Long Nose! Where are you?

Not far away in the fortress, the Commander Long Nose looks out of the window and is about to yell back, but is pulled back by two strong feminine hands. The window is closed.

Early the next day a Choctaw warrior stood on a rise above the village and ordered his men to go into the village to inform the Pawnees that they must stay in their tepees. One after another the Choctaws entered the tents, only to find them empty. There was a frantic search but they soon find out that not one Pawnee could be found!

IN THE COMPOUND Middle Size Buffalo sat on his throne. Next to him was his Dwarf Little Big Mouth, holding a crystal ball. Middle Sized was trying to concentrate. Standing before him, the sleepy Commander Long Nose waited while the dwarf looked at his crystal ball.

I cannot find them here either, my Lord.

By the gods, where can they be? Long Nose, what do you have to say? Don’t just stand there.

The Commander shook his head, I was informed that they are on their way to the West, Sir, to Oklahoma, to their homeland.

Now that is a problem - of course there are a number of solutions to problems, aren’t there? What can we do?

You could go after them, Sir.

Go after them. That’s it. I’m glad I thought of that just before you did. Yes, sir, I’m glad I thought of that. Commander, we will stop them. To their Homeland! Who do they think they are those Pawnees?

The dwarf said, "It was their home, Sire."

Oh was it? Well maybe. But I need the rent and the kickiboo too. President Andrew Jackson said I could keep them here. Now what to do? Let me see ... What do you say, Dwarf?

Looking out from behind the throne, the dwarf struggled to say, Now, yes, now ... a, that is really a very, shall we say...

Commander Long Nose straightened up. You could use your warriors, Sir.

Yes, glad I thought of that! Guard! Call out my warriors.

He went to the window and yelled, Call out the warriors! Middle Size Buffalo bumped against the dwarf who lost his crystal ball. It fell out into the courtyard, and landed at the feet of a guard named ‘Fallen Tree’. The surprised guard looked up and saw his Chief yelling,

"Call out the WAR-R-R-IORS!!!

About thirty Choctaw fighters grabbed whatever they could. Rushing about in great confusion, they finally got themselves into a semblance of a line-up. They looked up at the window and saw their red-faced chief waving his arms frantically and pointing.

Stop the Pawnees! ... Now Go!

The warriors made a mad rush through the compound gate, until there was no one left but ‘Fallen Tree’ holding the crystal ball.

ON THEIR WAY WEST to their beloved Oklahoma Chief Grey Thunder and his son Little Red Cloud were leading a long line of Indians followed by their wagons and live stock, resolutely marching towards their future home. It was slow-going for the Pawnees with their goats and cattle. The roadway was mostly full of potholes, which made the going even tougher. Often there was no road at all, and scouts were sent to ride ahead to look for the best route to travel. Many of the wagons carried long wooden poles to set up temporary tepees and piles of animal hides to cover them with. Other wagons are carrying the many things needed for cooking, and there were wagons just for women and children filled with the pets that they could not leave behind.

Meanwhile behind the Pawnees, Choctaw warriors were after them, racing around hills, through vineyards, over bridges and through a forest in order to cut the retreating Pawnees off. Eventually when they did arrive, they were ahead of the Pawnees, but completely exhausted.

As Grey Thunder walked by, he looked at the warriors - familiar to him over the years, all lying on their backs, huffing and puffing and bending over trying to get their breath back.

What are you guys doing here? Is it a jogging party? - or just for the exercise?

The Choctaw warriors were unable to speak a word and could only helplessly watch the whole train of Pawnee folk march on.

Little Red Cloud shook his head. Man, do they look worn out!

His father agreed, Can’t help but feel sorry for them. Too much discipline, I guess.

Winona said, "It’s hard to imagine Middle Size Buffalo able to be that tough on his men. Wonder what got into him?

Chief Grey Thunder smiled, No idea. Oh well, we have our own problems. Let’s keep going. It’s a couple more days, or maybe weeks ahead of us, until we get to our homeland.

The Pawnees marched on with their women, wagons and livestock, as the Choctaws sat and watched them disappearing over the hill.

IT IS TWILIGHT when the tribe comes to a stop. It has been a long strenuous day for everybody.

Grey Thunder gets down from his wagon. It’s getting dark, Son. Let’s make camp here and rest for a day or two to gain our strength for the trip to Oklahoma.

Right, Father. I’ll help with the arrangements and get the wagons unloaded.

See if you can find Uncle Flying Wolf and ask him if he can make a corral for the horses. And Winona, could you overlook the preparations for the women?

I will, Chief.

Little Red Cloud sings as he dances away. Off we go to our Homeland, our Homeland. Homeland ...

So the camp is made. Accompanied by Rumble Belly and Mini Crow, Prince Little Red Cloud walk from one camp set-up to another. He goes by the women starting to cook and smiles. They wave back, happily.

It smells good, Ladies.

It’ll taste better when we get home, Prince Little Red Cloud.

He passes by warriors laying down their weapons and brushing down their horses for the night.

Haow, comrades. How is it going?

One of them beats on a drum, and they do a little dance for Little Red Cloud. Couldn’t be better, Sire. We’re glad to be going home.

The Prince moves over to a large table set by children carrying dishes and cups..

"Haow, Kids.

A boy of nine asks, When will we be in Oklahoma? I’ve never been there, Little Red Cloud.

You were not even born when we used to live there.

Do they have schools there too?