The Ghost of Crazy Horse

By Dr. James Hawley

The Ghost of Crazy Horse is the story of the Wagner family, who live on a small ranch north of Lusk, Wyoming, just south of the Black Hills. Waldo Wagner has a strong connection to the land and horses. The family enjoys sitting outside the home and watching faint lights that sometimes show up in the trees on the north edge of the ranch. His father calls the lights the ghost, or spirit, of Crazy Horse. Waldo and his brother, Eric, work with horses and enjoy hunting, fishing, and taking care of the land. Waldo meets his lovely wife, Aimee, in France while serving with the army. He brings his bride back to Wyoming, where he begins to fixate on the lightthe spirit of Crazy Horse. His wife takes care of him as he descends at an increasing pace through the winding path of Alzheimers disease.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543464412

Book preview

PROLOGUE

C RAZY HORSE SMILED as he entered the tepee where his wife, Rattling Blanket Woman, had just given birth.

Look at his hair, was Crazy Horse’s first comment.

Yes, nodded Rattling Blanket Woman. We shall call him Curly Hair.

Curly grew rapidly into a strong, brave child, though he was always somewhat shorter than others his age. He could run as fast as the fleetest youth. His hair grew long and hung down the middle of his back. However, unlike the other boys, his hair wasn’t black and thick, it was dark brown and soft.

He later had his name changed to Horse in Sight. When he was ten years old he went with a war party to fight the Arapaho indians. He took two scalps and fought bravely. His father, Crazy Horse, was so impressed with his son’s war skills that he gave the young warrior, Horse in Sight, his own name and returned to his previous name of Worm. Thus a young Sioux warrior became Crazy Horse.

At the age of fourteen, Crazy Horse left his tepee for a spirit journey. The tribe was camped near Hill Hard to Get Around - what is now known as Scottsbluff in southwestern Nebraska. He climbed the hill which looked out over the high plains. He sat on a ledge with his legs dangling off the edge. He stared into the azure sky which was speckled with wispy, patchy clouds. He sat all day and stared at the surrounding territory. The village was on the other side of the mountain, so there was no sign of mankind anywhere on the plain that he could see. He noted the pace of the shadow of the tall hill as it moved eastward across the flat plain, evidence of the westward movement of the sun.

As darkness approached, Crazy Horse stood and moved back to lean against a sharp rock which stood a little back from the edge. He sat, leaning his back against the rock, staring at the darkening sky until sleep stole his sight.

He awoke the next morning, his throat parched with thirst. His stomach rumbled and cramped with hunger. He ignored the insistence of his body to eat and drink, staring into space. A hawk dipped a wing and circled, rising in a thermal, just in front of the sharp rise of the hill. Crazy Horse stared at the red-tailed hawk and saw it rise higher into the sky. He blinked as a vision began. He saw a rider on a red roan horse riding across the sky. Above him flew the red-tailed hawk. On the left side of the rider’s face was painted a yellow streak of lightning. He had blue hailstones painted on his chest. Behind his left ear was tied a small rock. Crazy Horse stared as the rider on the red roan rode across the sky, arrows and bullets flew past the rider, but none came close to touching hin.

The rider looked at Crazy Horse and spoke to him. Crazy Horse, intoned the rider. You must not have any possessions of your own. You must give anything you have to the poor. You must protect the weak. This is what you must do.

The rider looked forward again, looking to Crazy Horse’s left. Then two of the rider’s own people reached up and grabbed the rider’s arms, pulling him back. The rider fell backward, held by his own people. They pulled him down as the vision faded.

That afternoon Crazy Horse returned to his father’s tepee. He told Worm about his vision. Worm assured him that he would be great, but he must follow his vision.

The dark clouds were lowering over the mountains to the west of the log buildings at Fort Robinson, Nebraska. An early September chill swept the air as the crowds of indians, indian policemen and soldiers crowded the road entering the fort from the east. A large rumble broke from the crowd as a light-skinned indian with brown hair rode into the fort, followed by several of his kin. The crowd parted slowly as the indian rode through them. He pulled his brown and white horse to a halt in front of a young lieutenant.

We expected you here earlier, stated the lieutenant firmly.

I came as I come, stated Crazy Horse solemnly. He intended the meaning to be that he came as soon as he could. My wife, Tasina Sapewin, he looked around at the other indians, then back at the lieutenant, I mean, Black Shawl, is ill. I had to see her to her safety.

Lieutenant Lee, satisfied at the explanation, nodded slightly. Please dismount.

Crazy Horse looked over Lieutenant Lee’s head and saw the towering head of his over-tall cousin, Touch the Clouds. Touch the Clouds nodded also. Crazy Horse returned his gaze to Lee and also nodded without making a sound. He dismounted with slow deliberateness. He walked toward Lt. Lee and stood, facing the man.

Lt. Lee took him by the arm and led him to the adjutant’s office. Several indians, including American Horse and seven foot tall Touch the Clouds, followed them into the small office. As the group entered the office two men dressed in faded blue uniforms, who were sitting behind small, wooden desks, rose quickly. Crazy Horse expected to see General Bradley there. He was prepared to explain to the general that he was innocent and did not plan to kill General Crook. But, General Bradley wasn’t there.

Good afternoon, sir, said the first, looking directly at Lt. Lee. He turned his glance to Crazy Horse. Is this the….

This is Crazy Horse, stated Lt. Lee by way of introduction. And I am Lieutenant Jesse Lee.

Sir, acknowledged the officer behind the desk. I am Captain James Kennington, officer of the day. He thrust a limp hand toward the other officer. This is Lt. Calhoun.

Of course the officers knew each other already, but protocol required the introductions for the benefit of the indians. Most of the indians also knew who the officers were, but formality was considered important.

I was led to believe that we would be received by General Bradley, stated Lt. Lee sharply.

He is unable to be here personally, explained Captain Kennington. I will escort the … Crazy Horse personally to his - ah - temporary quarters. He took Crazy Horse by the left wrist and led him from the building.

As they exited the adjutant’s office, Captain Kennington turned Crazy Horse ninety degrees to the right. Crazy Horse felt his right wrist taken in a steel grip. He turned to see a short indian walking ot his right, holding his wrist. The indian had his long, black hair pulled out of the dark blue soldier jacket and hanging down his back. Crazy Horse recognized his friend. Little Big Man. Captain Kennington held his left hand forward, parting the large crowd of indians, most of whom were from Red Cloud’s band, including Red Cloud himself. Crazy Horse could feel the electric hate in the air.

Many years before, while camped on Chugwater Creek, near modern day Chugwater, Wyoming, Red Cloud had been involved in a drunken free-for-all and had killed a Sioux chief whom he blamed for killing one of his kinsmen. However, even though Red Cloud and Crazy Horse had both fought against Yellow-Hair Custer at the Little Big Horn, Crazy Horse felt Red Cloud was a coward and had betrayed his people to the whites. Thus, Crazy Horse’s band and friends did not get along with Red Cloud’s band.

With Captain Kennington holding his left wrist and Little Big Man holding his right wrist, Crazy Horse was led through Red Cloud’s crowd toward a small building just to the west of the adjutant’s office. The group stepped up on a board sidewalk in front of the building and the full import dawned upon Crazy Horse. He was to be a prisoner!

The interior of the building was very dim, being poorly lit by the setting sun. Crazy Horse was immediately aware of the stale, sickly smell of dust, mold and old urine. He planted his feet and leaned backward, trying to return to the fresh air of the exterior. Little Big Man’s grip tightened and the captor tugged hard on the arm. Crazy Horse’s eyes widened, his breath increased into a roar. He jerked his left hand away from Captain Kennington and yelled as, using his left hand, he reached under the blanket which was slung over his right shoulder. He grabbed a small knife which was tucked into the back of his belt. In one, swift, fluid motion, he swung to his right and swiped the knife across Little Big Man’s hand. With a whoop of pain, Little Big Man let go of the wrist.

From the now hyper-excited crowd of indians, some sympathetic to Crazy Horse, some supporters of Red Cloud, came shouts of Shoot him, Kill him, and other unintelligible words, shouted both in English and Lakota.

Crazy Horse’s eyes, wide and gleaming, glared like a mountain lion trapped by dogs. He tried to spin, but found his swing stopped quickly. He felt a sharp pain in his back, just to the right of the spine. His head swirled around, his glance passing Little Big Man, and seeing several indians and soldiers milling around behind him. He felt another sharp pain in his right flank, just above and lateral to the first pain. He felt warm fluid flow onto his right buttock and heard a loud thunk as the bayonet hit the door frame beside him.

He turned, his back to the doorway, facing the sea of humanity. His legs became as weak as the water in the Greasy Grass Creek. He began to sink to the rough board porch in fount of the building. An indian wearing a blue coat rushed up to his right and supported him, not allowing him to fall.

I am killed, muttered Crazy Horse, talking to no one in particular.

Dr. McGillycuddy, the camp surgeon, rushed to his side. Get this man to the adjutant’s office, shouted McGillycuddy. Not seeing a fast enough response, he continued, Now!

A soldier grabbed Crazy Horse under the right arm as an indian scout grabbed him under the left arm. The two half led, half dragged Crazy Horse to the nearby adjutant’s office. Under direction of Lt. Lee and Dr. Mcgillicuddy, they laid Crazy Horse on the adjutant’s bed.

It is too soft, complained Crazy Horse as he rolled off the bed onto the floor.

Lt. Lee looked at Dr. McGillycuddy. Leave him, ordered McGillycuddy. The doctor knelt down and inspected the wounds. He had been stabbed twice in the right flank. The wounds are fatal, commented McGillycuddy looking up at Lt. Lee. He has only hours left to live. He looked at Crazy Horse’s face which was contorted in pain. I can only offer comfort. Lt. Lee nodded and Dr. Mcgillicuddy gave the patient an injection of morphine.

Crazy Horse slept. Touch the Clouds was allowed in and he sat near Crazy Horse. Soon, Crazy Horse’s father, Worm, arrived and was admitted to the small office. After another two hours, Crazy Horse began to stir.

Son, I am here, said Worm.

Dr. McGillycuddy gave him another injection of morphine.

Crazy Horse looked at Worm. Father, he said weakly, it is no good for the people to depend on me any longer - I an bad hurt. He closed his eyes and slept.

Crazy Horse’s labored breathing slowed and, with a final gasp, stopped. Touch the Clouds, who knelt beside Crazy Horse, looked up at Dr. Mcgillicuddy. The doctor shook his head. Touch the Clouds pulled the red blanked up over the war chief’s head. This red blanket had initially been worn over Crazy Horse’s shoulder when he arrived. It had been placed over Crazy Horse’s body to keep him warm.

This is the lodge of Crazy Horse, intoned Touch the Clouds.

Around eleven thirty on the night of September 5, 1877, Crazy Horse, war chief of the Sioux, shirt-wearer, died on the floor of the adjutant’s office.

The next day the body of Crazy Horse was released to his parents. Worm placed the body in an ambulance which had been loaned to him by the army, and took the body east. The body was prepared in the Lakota way and placed on a scaffold in the Nebraska badlands. The body remained on the scaffold for one year. Then Worm, who by now had taken the name Crazy Horse back, and his wife removed the bones and placed them in a leather pouch. The bones were kept with the family for some time, then permanently placed in a safe place for eternity. The family, including Crazy Horse’s father, mother, and wife, never revealed the location of the bones of Crazy Horse.

CHAPTER 1

W HAT’S THE BIGG EST rattler you’ve ever seen, Papa? questioned six year old Waldo Harvey Wagoner.

Eric Wagoner, one year and four months older than Waldo piped up. I bet Papa’s seen a ten foot rattler!

Nah, there ain’t such a critter as a ten foot rattler, countered Waldo.

Is too, screamed Eric.

Boys, soothed Bruce Wagner, their father. I think the biggest I have ever seen was about four feet long. Eric frowned as Waldo stuck his tongue out at him. However, said Bruce softly, I can’t say that that’s the biggest ever found. He leaned back and stared at the distant Black Hills. I reckon somebody might have seen one bigger.

But there’s a ten foot rattler somewhere around, right, Papa? queried Eric.

Perhaps, nodded Bruce. Now it was Eric’s turn to stick his tongue out at Waldo. Now, boys, let’s not fight. It’s been a long day. He glanced from one boy to the other. It’s time to relax and enjoy the scenery.

The three leaned back in their wooden lawn chairs as one. They stared to the north as the fabled Black Hills shimmered in the summer evening heat. After about three minutes of silence, the boys began to fidget in their chairs, though they were trained well enough to remain quiet.

How’s that runt sheep doin’? questioned Waldo, unable to maintain his silence any longer.

Doing fine, replied Bruce, smiling. Her mom’s gonna make sure she makes it.

Eric frowned. I thought she was a bum lamb.

No, just born a little early, answered Bruce. Her mother didn’t die.

What do you mean? questioned Eric.

A bum lamb is one who doesn’t have a mother, explained Bruce. Either the mother died, or rejected the lamb. This one’s mother didn’t kick him off. He’s just a runt.

Oh, grunted Eric.

Yeah, that’s what I said, smirked Waldo. I said that runt sheep.

He’s a lamb, not a sheep, corrected Eric.

That’s enough, commanded Bruce sternly.

Good evening, gentlemen, stated their mother, Gayle, walking up. May I join you?

Certainly, Darling, agreed Bruce.

Thank you, nodded Gayle, pulling a chair up on the other side of Bruce. With Gayle was Marcia.

Marcia was tall for her age, with long, blonde hair. She had fine features and thin, delicate hands. She was the oldest of the children, being nine years old.

Where’s Clara? asked Bruce, looking around.

She was so tired after supper that she went straight to bed, explained Gayle. A warm, early summer breeze ruffled Gayle’s red hair. Her hair was a marvel of beauty - being thick and luxurious. She brushed it one hundred strokes every night and every morning - not so much out of vanity as out of habit.

Poor kid, laughed Bruce. She must have really been tired. He looked at Gayle. What did she do today that made her so tired?

She helped me with the house cleaning while Marcia, Gayle placed a soft, white hand on Marcia’s arm, sewed all day.

I’m really tired too, Mom, sighed Marcia, Waldo’s sister, sitting on the ground beside her mother.

Thank you for helping me with the dishes, said Gayle, smiling at Marcia.

It was only her turn, griped Eric. I help when it’s my turn.

And I thank you, laughed Gayle.

Boys, stated Bruce excitedly. Look out there! He pointed to the line of trees almost a mile to the north.

What? questioned Eric.

There it is! responded Waldo leaning forward in his chair.

What? repeated Eric.

There, repeated Bruce pointing excitedly.

What is it, Honey? queried Gayle.

The lights of Crazy Horse, explained Bruce.

Where? quizzed Eric sitting up straighter.

Just in the trees, stated Bruce. Look. He glanced around at the children. It’s that faint red light just in the trees.

I see it! bellowed Marcia excitedly.

Waldo sat on the front edge of his lawn chair. He squinted and was able to see a small point of red light dancing wildly about in the limbs of a ponderosa pine in the distant line of trees. I see it! he exclaimed.

Yeah, intoned Eric. I see it.

What is it? asked Marcia.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, leisurely lighting his worn briar pipe. He puffed several times to get the tobacco burning then puffed out a perfect smoke ring. It’s the spirit of the great warrior, Crazy Horse. He looked around at the captive audience. His wife smiled at him and the children hung onto the edge of their seats. Crazy Horse’s bones are in a pouch, hidden somewhere. He took another puff of the pipe. He leisurely exhaled, blowing another perfect smoke ring, which rose slowly before being scattered by the late evening breeze. No one knows where the bones are. He leaned back and sighed. Some say, he nodded, purposefully goading the audience’s curiosity, that Crazy Horse’s bones are hidden in those very trees.

This was not the first time Bruce had shown the family the ghost light, but the amazement and questions were part of the ritual.

Those trees ain’t that old, insisted Eric.

Yeah, they are, countered Waldo. Crazy Horse’s bones could easily have been put in them.

You boys need to quit fighting and get ready for bed, insisted Gayle. You have a big day tomorrow.

But the sun’s just gone down, argued Eric.

It’s still late, gently corrected Gayle. And you boys need your rest. She looked at Marcia. You need to go to bed too.

Yes, ma’am, agreed Marcia.

We need to get some sleep too, said Gayle laying her hand on Bruce’s shoulder. Come on.

Gayle took eight year old Eric’s left hand in her right hand, and Waldo’s right hand in her left and led them toward the house.

Good night, boys, shouted Bruce.

Good night, Daddy, replied the two boys in unison.

The next morning Waldo woke early and, after stopping by the bathroom to urinate and wash his hands and face, ran to the kitchen and