Cries from the Earth: The Outbreak Of the Nez Perce War and the Battle of White Bird Canyon June 17, 1877 (The Plainsmen Series, Book 14)
Terry C. Johnston
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Publish Year note: First published April 1st 1999
By mid-1877, trouble in the Northwest is brewing like a foul broth. Ill will is growing between white settlers and the Non-Treaty bands of the Nez Perce. The American government is forcing the Indians from their homelands onto the reservation. Many go quietly, thinking more about their families than of the pride of their warriors. But for a few holdouts, there's no room for compromise. Their history, their heritage and their ancestors are buried beneath that land.
Although severely outnumbered and outgunned, a few brave warriors will heed the call of...CRIES FROM THE EARTH.
such was not a practice of the Nee-Me-Poo. By late morning, the captured weapons had been brought to the village: something on the order of sixty-three carbines and perhaps half that many pistols. Along with the cartridge belts they had torn off the dead soldiers—these warriors were ready if the army should want any more fighting! Considering how many soldiers had marched against them that morning, Yellow Wolf was amazed there were not more casualties among his people. Bow and Arrow Case had
no mistake: the sale of liquor to the tribe became a constant source of trouble in the months preceding the outbreak. Not only did it cause turmoil for such notorious whiskey traders as Samuel Benedict and Harry Mason, but also the trade in alcohol had been escalating every year around the time of the Camas Prairie gathering. Dancing, horse-racing, getting drunk on the white man’s liquor—these activities all went together, summer after summer, making for a potent brew that would eventually spell
favorite horse over the covered grave where they put Old Joseph to rest for all time. Thin, peeled lodgepoles painted red were planted all around the grave. A pair of bells hung from the very top of each pole so that the stirring of the slightest breeze might make a gentle music above this place. Ever since, Joseph tried time and again to convince himself that he and Ollokot had not given away the land of their father. Why, the Nee-Me-Poo did not even have a word for “enemy” in their language.
eyes sting as he watched Sun Necklace and the strident Toohoolhoolzote lead the war party out of camp, headed south from Tepahlewam for White Bird Creek and the Salmon River settlements. He felt his heart grow heavy as he trudged away from the throngs, watching a woman here, and a woman there, hoist herself up on the back of an old, steady travois pony to yank the lacing pins from the front of her lodge. One by one, the women yanked those long, peeled shafts from their holes, slowly unfurling
grunt as each one struck him, even though her papa was already wrenching their horse around, yelling at Mamma to get moving. “They got me, Jack!” Baker cried as he flopped to the ground. “Good-bye!” Maggie twisted herself around as far as she could while still clinging to her papa, finding Baker lying in the middle of the road, his chest, back, and arms bristling with the shafts. Then Maggie realized she and her father were in just as much danger as the warriors screeched and yowled, galloping