Pretty-shield

Medicine Woman of the Crows

Frank B. Linderman

• Publisher: Harper Perennial
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9780063052208
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Social Science Biographies
• Index: Social Sciences

A rare, documented account of the life of a Crow medicine woman, drawn from interviews conducted by legendary writer and ethnographer Frank Bird Linderman and told in her own words. In the spring of 1931, Pretty-shield, a grandmother and medicine healer in the Crow tribe, met Frank Linderman for a series of interviews. When Linderman asked Pretty-shield about her life, the old woman relaxed and laughed. "We shall be here until we die."

In this rich account, Linderman, using sign language and an interpreter, pieces together the story of Pretty-shield's extraordinary life, from her youth migrating across the High Plains with her people to their forced settlement on the reservation, to how she became a medicine woman. Pretty-shield vividly recalls the centuries-long traditions of the Crow people, bringing into focus the many complex facets of Crow womanhood and the ways in which Indigenous communities care for each other.

Pretty-shield: Medicine Woman of the Crows reveals the everyday concerns and deep-rooted customs of tribal life for a new generation coming to terms with the violence and racism of America's past, and offers a fascinating and authentic portrait of the Crow, their customs and traditions, their relationship to nature and healing, and the timeless insights of their lived experiences. As Pretty-shield reminds us, "Listen to the old ones... keep their wisdom within your heart, and understand that wisdom in your mind."

An essential contribution to the American experience, Pretty-shield illuminates a segment of our society which has for too long been relegated to the shadows of history, and celebrates Crow life and its contributions to our rich culture.

Eighteen

“GOES-AHEAD WAS WITH GENERAL CUSTER ON THE DAY HE was killed on the Little Bighorn, was he not?”

“Ahh,” she smiled, with great pride in her eyes, “and for that the Great Chief in Washington sends me, every moon, a paper that I trade away for thirty dollars. And I need it for my grandchildren. I wish it were more,” she added, a quick change in her expressive face.

“Tell me about this,” I urged. “Tell me all that you remember about the fight on the Little Bighorn.”

She got up and went to the door, stood there looking out at the hill that is thickly covered with gleaming white monuments marking the supposed spots where, on the twenty-fifth of June, 1876, General Custer, and Troops C, E, I, F, and L, of the famous Seventh United States Cavalry, died to the last man.

“Were they ever buried?” I asked, standing behind her.

“I do not know, Sign-talker,” she answered, with uncertainty in her voice. “I do know that this country smelled of dead men for a whole summer after the fight, and that we moved away from here, because we could not stand it. Ahh, war is bad,” she sighed, turning back into our room. “There was always somebody missing, because of war.

“I was a young woman when Son-of-the-morning-star [General Custer] fought our old enemies, the Lakota and Cheyenne, on the Little Bighorn,” she went on, speaking slowly, as though collecting her thoughts. “Many of our young men went with The-other-one [General Terry]. More than one hundred, maybe fifty more, went with Three-stars [General Crook], who got whipped on the Rosebud by Crazy-horse and his warriors. Besides these many Crows went with Son-of-the-morning-star. These are the ones that you have asked me to tell you about. I will begin at the beginning.

“We were camped above the mouth of Rotten-sun-dance-tepee [Clark Fork] when some blue soldiers came to ask our chief for some wolves [scouts]. These blue soldiers came to us in a fire-boat on the Elk river [Yellowstone]. It was in the moon when leaves were showing [May], and our chief gave a feast to our visitors who talked with our warriors in council.

“I, being a woman, did not hear what was said there. But after the talking twenty-five of our young men promised to meet the blue soldiers at the mouth of Tongue river. Half-yellow-face, my uncle, carried their pipe [was their leader]. The second night, when these Crows, who were going to be wolves for the blue soldiers, camped near the spot now occupied by the city of Forsyth, the Lakota stole every horse that they had, every one. The Crows were afoot,” she chuckled, “and they had not yet seen the white man’s war; and my man, Goes-ahead, was with them.”

These thoughts contributed much to her merriment. “Ahh, the Lakota were cunning horse-thieves,” she admitted. “Tst, tst, tst! Yes, the Lakota could steal horses almost as cunningly as the Crows. We always had many Lakota horses, sometimes hundreds of them,” she laughed. “But I am forgetting my story.

“Somebody had now to go back to the Crow village for horses before these Crow wolves could go on to the white man’s war,” she continued. “And when the two who came for horses left our village, twelve more young warriors went with them to join the waiting-ones who were afoot. These Crow wolves had no interpreter with them, so that when the party finally reached the blue soldiers at the mouth of the Tongue river, a half-breed Lakota talked for them there. [Probably Frank Gruard, said to be a Sandwich Islander, whom the Indian believed to be a half-breed Sioux.]

“Our village, a large one with many, many lodges and large herds of horses, moved to The-long-drop. It was here that a Shoshone warrior came to us, asking for some more Crows. He told our men that a big blue soldier chief, named Three-stars [General Crook] had many, many men on Goose creek, where the city of Sheridan, Wyoming, stands today. This Shoshone said that his own people were going to help this big soldier chief to whip the Lakota and Cheyenne, and that this chief, Three-stars, wanted some Crows to join him, to be with him when he wiped out our old enemies. But he did not wipe them out. Instead, he got a good whipping himself. And, of course, the Crows and the Shoshones, who were with him, got a good whipping, too. And yet I believe that they did better work, that they fought harder, than the blue soldiers, who picked a bad place for their fight with Crazy-horse on the Rosebud.

“But I know only what my man, Goes-ahead, told me after the white man’s war was finished. Anyhow more than a hundred, perhaps nearly one hundred and fifty, of our young men went away with this Shoshone wolf that Three-stars had sent to our village. [Plenty-coups says one hundred and thirty.] Plenty-coups, who was then a young chief, and very brave, carried the pipe for these Crow wolves. Besides Plenty-coups, there were Flathead-woman, Medicine-crow, and Alligator-stands-up, all strong leaders and brave men, who went with the others to help Three-stars, the blue soldier chief, who was waiting for them on Goose creek.

“I cannot tell you about the fighting. I remember that they brought Bull-snake back to us badly wounded, and that many blue soldiers who had been with Three-stars were killed. I remember, too, that we moved our village to Yellow-willows [near Powell, of today] to be out of the way. There were not many young warriors left with us. There were many old men and some young boys, so that we kept rather quiet in the village at Yellow-willows until our men returned. It was here at this camp on Yellow-willows that the Crow warriors who had been with Three-stars reached us, after the fighting. The big village that had been so quiet now became lively again. And how quickly the women looked to see if their men had come back to them.”

Here Pretty-shield paused, a quizzical look in her eyes. Leaning toward me she asked in a half whisper, “Did the men ever tell you anything about a woman who fought with Three-stars on the Rosebud?”

“No,” I replied, wondering.

“Ahh, they do not like to tell of it,” she chuckled. “But I will tell you about it. We Crows all know about it. I shall not be stealing anything from the men by telling the truth.

“Yes, a Crow woman fought with Three-stars on the Rosebud, two of them did, for that matter; but one of them was neither a man nor a woman. She looked like a man, and yet she wore woman’s clothing; and she had the heart of a woman. Besides, she did a woman’s work. Her name was Finds-them-and-kills-them. She was not a man, and yet not a woman,” Pretty-shield repeated. “She was not as strong as a man, and yet she was wiser than a woman,” she said, musingly, her voice scarcely audible.

“The other woman,” she went on, “was a wild one who had no man of her own. She was both bad and brave, this one. Her name was The-other-magpie; and she was pretty.

“I have said that I know nothing about the fighting on the Rosebud, except what my man, Goes-ahead, told me. When I saw the big party of Crow wolves, who had been with Three-stars, coming back from the war, they were all singing. This told us that they had been lucky. I saw the two women, Finds-them-and-kills-them, and The-other-magpie, riding and singing with them. Finds-them-and-kills-them had a gun, and The-other-magpie a long coup-stick, with one breath-feather on its small end.

“During the fight on the Rosebud both these women did brave deeds. When Bull-snake fell from his horse, badly wounded, Finds-them-and-kills-them dashed up to him, got down from her horse, and stood over him, shooting at the Lakota as rapidly as she could load her gun and fire. The-other-magpie rode round and round them, singing her war-song and waving her coup-stick, the only weapon she had. When the Lakota, seeing Bull-snake on the ground, charged to take his scalp, The-other-magpie rode straight at them, waving her coup-stick. Her medicine was so strong that the Lakota turned and rode away; and Bull-snake was saved. All the men saw these things, and yet they have never told you about them.

“Both these women expected death that day. Finds-them-and-kills-them, afraid to have the Lakota find her dead with woman-clothing on her, changed them to a man’s before the fighting commenced, so that if killed the Lakota would not laugh at her, lying there with a woman’s clothes on her. She did not want the Lakota to believe that she was a Crow man hiding in a woman’s dress, you see.

“Yes, Sign-talker, there was a woman and a half-woman who fought on the Rosebud with Three-stars. The woman, I remember, wore a stuffed woodpecker on her head, and her forehead was painted yellow. Her coup-stick was big medicine that day, and she rode a black horse. She went to the war because her brother had lately been killed by the Lakota. She wanted to get even, and she did. Riding straight at the Lakota, with only her coup-stick, she spat at them: ‘See,’ she called out, ‘my spit is my arrows.’ She rode against a Lakota’s horse, even stuck the Lakota with her coup-stick, counting a coup on him, just as Finds-them-and-kills-them fired with her gun, and killed him. When the Lakota fell The-other-magpie took his scalp. She was waving it when I saw her coming into the village with the others. Yes, and I saw her cut this scalp into many pieces, so that the men might have more scalps to dance with.”

Pretty-shield had been speaking rapidly, her dark eyes snapping. Now she leaned back in her chair. “Ahh,” she said a little bitterly, “the men did not tell you this; but I have. And it’s the truth. Every old Crow, man or woman, knows that it is the truth.”

And then as though she feared that she might have been unfair, “I am sure that your friend, Plenty-coups, has told you only the truth. But if he left this out he did not tell you all of the truth,” she added quite severely. “Two women, one of them not quite a woman, fought with Three-stars, and I hope that you will put it in a book, Sign-talker, because it is the truth.

“The return of the Crow wolves and these two women to our village was one of the finest sights that I have ever seen,” she continued, excitement gone from her eyes. “I felt proud of the two women, even of the wild one, because she was brave. And I saw that they were the ones who were taking care of Bull-snake, the wounded man, when they rode in.

“Ahh, there was great rejoicing. And of course we had a big scalp-dance. I think that the party had taken ten scalps besides the one that The-other-magpie cut into so many pieces, so there were enough for many dancers. We women, who had felt a little afraid with so many warriors gone, began now to be gay, where before we had been quiet. There was feasting on fat meat, and the big dance that lasted all night. The drums! Ahh, I liked to hear the drums, because when they were beating loudly our hearts were light as breath-feathers. And yet on this night my own man, Goes-ahead, was not with us. He was with Son-of-the-morning-star [General Custer] and the other soldier chiefs at the mouth of Tongue river. I wished him back. In those days women were always wishing that their men were back from war, or from horse-stealing raids against the Lakota, or the Pecunnie, or the Arapahoe, or the Cheyenne. And yet they were such happy days!

“Now, after all this traveling around, I am coming to what you wished to know, the fight on the Little Bighorn. When Son-of-the-morning-star left the camp of the blue soldiers at the mouth of Tongue river he went up the Rosebud. My man, Goes-ahead, White-swan, Half-yellow-face, Hairy-moccasin, White-man-runs-him, and Curly were his wolves. The country was filled with Lakota and Cheyenne. They were like ants on a freshly killed buffalo robe that is pegged to the ground. Of course the Crow wolves knew this by the sign that the enemy left, tracks, old fires, and dead buffalo whose meat had been but half taken, many such things that told the truth. Such things tell a good deal, show that men are traveling, and that they are in a great hurry to reach some place.

“My man, Goes-ahead, White-man-runs-him, and Hairy-moccasin, were ahead of Son-of-the-morning-star and his blue horse-soldiers. Half-yellow-face, who was my uncle, and carried the pipe [commanded], and Curly were with Son-of-the-morning-star. Curly said that he was sick, and I guess he was. Maybe what he knew was ahead of him made him sick. It was enough to make anybody feel a little like lying down for a while.

“Do you know where Busby is?” she asked, suddenly.

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, Busby wasn’t there in those days,” she laughed. “But at that point the three Crows, wolves, who were ahead of Son-of-the-morning-star saw sign that told them many, many Lakota lodges had been there, and that they had not been long gone. Some of their fires were yet smoking a little; and the three Crow wolves found a few Lakota horses there, too. These they caught. This camp was the very one that had whipped Three-stars, but nobody then knew that he had been whipped by Crazy-horse and his warriors on the Rosebud.

“My man, Goes-ahead, Hairy-moccasin, and White-man-runs-him, knew that there were more Lakota and Cheyenne somewhere ahead than there were bullets in the belts of the blue soldiers who were with Son-of-the-morning-star. They believed that they ought to tell him this, so they went back, and told him. But he only said, ‘Go on again,’ and then drank from a straw-covered bottle that was on his saddle.

“My man, Goes-ahead, and the other two Crow wolves, went on again, as they had been told. But when they came, once more, to the place where the big Lakota village had been, they waited there for Son-of-the-morning-star to come to them with his horse-soldiers. They knew that there were too many Lakota and Cheyenne ahead, and were afraid to go on alone.

“When he got there, and had looked around a little, Son-of-the-morning-star asked my man, Goes-ahead, if there was a better place to camp near there. Goes-ahead said that there was, that at a creek white men call Thompson there was a better place. The water that is in this creek comes from the high mountain springs, and is cool and good.

“The blue horse-soldiers went to this creek and made their camp. Before the next morning came the Crow wolves were again out, looking for the Lakota and Cheyenne. The sun was not yet near the middle of the sky when they saw the biggest village they had ever looked upon in their lives. It was on the Little Bighorn river. The flat was white with lodges, and the hills black with Lakota and Cheyenne horses, as far as they could see.

“My man, Goes-ahead, told me that he felt afraid when he saw so many lodges. He, with the two others, Hairy-moccasin, and White-man-runs-him, turned here, going up the creek that white men call Reno. They met Son-of-the-morning-star coming down this creek, and told him what they had seen. They said that there were more Lakota, more enemies, than there were bullets in the soldiers’ belts, that there were too many to fight.

“But Son-of-the-morning-star was going to his death, and did not know it. He was like a feather blown by the wind, and had to go.”

She pressed her fist against her forehead, and bent her head. “Tst, tst, tst! He would not listen,” she murmured. “And he was brave; yes, he was a brave man.

“Two-bodies, a half-breed interpreter, listened,” she went on [probably Mitch Boyer]. He spoke to Son-of-the-morning-star, saying, ‘You can yet get safely away.’

“But the soldier chief wanted to fight. He had to fight, because he had to die. And this made others die with him,” she added, speaking slowly and with deep feeling.

“My man, Goes-ahead, told me that Son-of-the-morning-star drank too often from the straw-covered bottle, and that as soon as Two-bodies told him that he might yet get away he made a big mistake by dividing his blue horse-soldiers into three parties, sending two of them away from him.”

Pretty-shield was deeply affected here. She stood up, leaning over the table. “It was now that my man, Goes-ahead, stripped himself for battle, tying some breath-feathers in his hair,” she said, speaking rapidly. “And it was now that the little chief, Reno, went away as he had been ordered, with all of the Arickara wolves. White-swan and Half-yellow-face went with them, by mistake. And it was now that Curly, who said he was sick, ran away. Ahh, I know these t...