Flight to Freedom

Flight to Freedom (based on a true story)

November 1898

Chills ran down Bluebird’s spine as she heard distant rifle fire. The sound of death and destruction seemed to come from the direction of her village.

Their grandfather had heard talk that the soldiers were destroying all spotted horses, considering them a symbol of Native culture. Wisely, he’d urged Raven and Bluebird to spirit their small herd of Appaloosas to a hidden canyon with rich grass and a spring-fed stream trickling through it. A rock overhang and tree-covered walls protected it from the north wind.

Bluebird and Raven had made a shelter under the overhang, lest they got caught in bad weather, since it was late in the fall. They had gathered dry wood for a fire and stashed pemican and dried meat.

Bluebird whistled a warning to Raven, who was at the far end of the canyon, reinforcing the brush barrier to keep their horses inside.

At thirteen, Raven was already taller than Bluebird. He was whipcord thin, fast on his feet and an accurate shot with rifle or bow and arrow. He had eyes so dark brown they looked black, just like his grandfather.

Bluebird was petite like her grandmother, with eyes the color of black coffee. She was an equally good hunter. Between them, they kept the stew pot filled for their grandparents.

Raven arrived silently on moccasin feet. Seeing Bluebird’s worried look, he asked, “What’s wrong, Sister?”

“I heard rifles from the direction of our village. I’m frightened, Raven.”

He lost his usual easy-going smile, and his eyes shone with fear. “Let’s go back, staying inside the trees so we won’t be seen,” he said.

They set off through the forest, anxious to know everything was all right. It was eerily quiet, no squirrels’ chatter nor birds’ song. The silence was unnatural, making Bluebird shiver with dread.

“I hope I’m mistaken, but I feel danger and death in the air,” she told him.

“Don’t borrow trouble, as Grandmother would say,” Raven cautioned.

She knew he was trying to relieve her fears.

They smelled the smoke before they got near, burning their noses and making Bluebird’s stomach churn. It hung over the village like an evil blanket.

To their horror the teepees were all gone. The village’s entire horse herd was missing. Piles of smoldering ashes and dead bodies littered the ground. There was nothing left; everyone they knew and everything they’d had was gone.

It made Bluebird’s heart sick. These had been kind people who wanted only to live in peace.

They made their way to where their grandparents’ teepee had been. Like the rest, it was a charred ruin. Their grandfather was lying beside it in a pool of blood, but Bluebird suddenly saw that blood was still oozing from his wounds, which meant he was alive!

Hardly able to breathe with excitement, she knelt beside him and carefully examined the shallow furrow above his left ear. The blood was mostly coming from a bullet wound in his shoulder.

“Grandfather!” She cried. When he moaned, tears of joy came to her eyes!

Raven and Bluebird carefully turned him over. To their delight, Grandmother was underneath him. He had fallen on her to protect her.

Being such a tiny person, she’d been hidden underneath his body. They had been left there for dead.

Bluebird could see that the bullet had gone right through, leaving a large hole in the front of his shoulder. It appeared to have missed the bone. She tore a strip of material from her grandmother’s long skirt to make bandages, first putting a patch on the entry and exit wounds, then wrapping his shoulder.

Raven salvaged enough material from the burned teepees to make a litter to carry their grandfather. Grandmother was bruised from when she’d fallen, but said she was okay, so they carefully lifted Grandfather onto the litter.

With Raven on one end and Bluebird on the other, Grandmother walking beside them, they slowly made their way to their hidden canyon, stopping to rest several times, gathering moss for their grandfather’s wounds. Grandmother feared her medicine bag had burned in the teepee.

“I will search for anything of value,” Raven promised, “but first we go to our shelter.”

It was almost dark when they arrived. They quickly cut spruce branches to make a bed large enough for all four of them to sleep together, so their body heat would keep them warm. It was the ‘Moon of Cruel Winds,’ also known as the ‘Beaver Moon’, when the hair grows long and cold weather arrives. The days had been warm, but the nights were already bitter cold.

Raven slipped away at daybreak, to bring whatever he could salvage from the ruined village. Bluebird she set out with a bow and arrows to find meat for supper. Good fortune was with her; she brought back a large jack rabbit. The fur would line winter moccasins, and the meat would make a tasty stew. The rabbit’s fur was almost all white.

“This means we will have snow very soon,” Grandfather said. “The animals know when to change color to hide from predators. We are living on borrowed time, Granddaughter.”

 It had been unseasonably warm, but Grandfather’s weather predictions always came true. They had only what was on their backs; all their belongings had been destroyed.

Bluebird and Raven would hunt, and their grandmother would tan the hides to make clothing, but it was late in the season. She feared they would not have enough to survive.

Raven returned with some charred pots, pieces of blankets and Grandmother’s medicine bag. It was singed, but the contents were intact, as was her stash of tanned hides which had been stored underneath it.

She immediately tended Grandfather’s wounds, then set to work lacing pieces of blanket together, her nimble fingers working quickly. She too believed Grandfather’s warning that cold weather was upon them.

Overnight, the winds changed from south to east, and then to northeast. There was a skiff of snow on the ground by morning, and heavy clouds hung dark and threatening. Raven and Bluebird hurried to hunt for meat, before more snow fell and game became harder to find.

Raven checked his rabbit snares first, while Bluebird followed the tracks of a large buck deer. She found him near the edge of the forest.

Her arrow went true, and the deer ran but a short distance before falling. Bluebird hurriedly cleaned him. Raven would help her drag it back to camp.

She worked with her back to the northeast, protecting her face from the driving ice pellets. The wind made such a roaring in the trees that at first, she didn’t hear the approaching team of horses pulling a wagon. When she turned and saw them bearing down on her, terror filled Bluebird’s heart.

She left the buck half-cleaned and raced for the cover of the forest. Before she could reach the trees, they overtook her. One of the men jumped down, knocking Bluebird to the ground, hollering to his partner with a fiendish laugh. She couldn’t understand his coarse words, but their meaning was clear.

The huge, bearded man reeked like he hadn’t bathed in years. Weighing twice as much as Bluebird, he pinned her down. She struggled, gagging at the smell of him, as he groped her, holding her hands in one big fist. Her heart raced and she fought to get her breath as terror overcame her.

Bluebird managed to get one hand free and reached out to stab her attacker, only to find that her skinning knife had flown from her hand when he landed on her. She saw it in the snow, just out of reach. She kicked and fought for her life.

His partner then joined him, jerking Bluebird’s arms over her head and laughing at her struggles. She screamed in fear, trying to bite at the first man’s wrist while his partner held her arms. In retaliation, he punched her on the side of her head. Everything went black.

Raven was near the edge of the forest when he heard his sister’s screams. He told her afterwards that when he’d seen what was happening, he quickly sent an arrow flying into the throat of the man who was trying to pull her tunic up. Before the other man could react, he’d received an arrow through his heart.

Bluebird regained consciousness to find Raven pulling the men off her, one at a time. She was dazed and her head was spinning from the blow and she was shaking too much at first to help her brother.

Raven took charge, saying, “We must get rid of the bodies; nobody would believe an Indian against a White man, that we acted in self defense.”

He stripped the heavy winter coats off both men and tossed them onto the wagon, then removed the rest of their smelly clothes, throwing them aside. “We will burn all but the heavy coats.

Methodically, Raven ripped the arrows from the men’s bodies. “We must hide the evidence,” he told her. Together they dragged the nude bodies to the riverbank, one at a time, and pushed them off the steep bank into the swiftly moving water and watched them float away.

 “The water will carry them for miles,” Raven assured her, “what’s left won’t be found until spring. Without clothes and bloated from the water, they won’t be identified. Nobody knows we survived; we must keep it that way.”

The ice pellets turned to snow, driving sideways with the wind. It was so thick they could hardly see the partially skinned deer. Raven threw the carcass onto the wagon and drove the team to their shelter. The wagon was loaded with food, tools, clothing and blankets. It was the long overdue supplies for their village, according to the treaty.

Grandfather looked up from his bed. Raven and Bluebird told him and Grandmother what had happened. “When the men and the wagon fail to arrive at the fort, the Army will send out a patrol to find them,” Grandfather said.

“Our only hope is to make that wagon into a sled and escape into Canada, like Sitting Bull and his followers did. They found refuge there; we can, too. 

“They won’t send out patrols in a blizzard. By the time it lets up, our tracks will be completely hidden.” He told Raven and Bluebird how to attach curved branches with rawhide to the wheels to make runners, so the wagon would glide on the snow.

They tied several of their Appaloosas to the back of the sled; the rest would follow. Bluebird and Raven rearranged the supplies, making a sheltered nest for their grandparents. They donned the heavy wolf-hide coats that had belonged to the men, since they would be walking and driving the team. By dark, they were many miles away, keeping to forested areas for protection from the wind.

Bluebird hoped Grandfather’s plan worked. If found, they would be killed for sure. They would not have survived the winter without the food and supplies that were destroyed in their village.

They stopped every few miles to rest. Raven and Bluebird took turns driving the sled and walking beside the horses to wipe snow from their faces. Without that team of horses, they would all perish in the blizzard.

Grandmother could see that Bluebird was worried. “What is troubling my brave granddaughter?” Bluebird reluctantly admitted her fear about punishment for killing the men.

“What do you suppose those men would have done to you, Bluebird? They would have taken their pleasure and then killed you. It is not murder when you are defending your life. Your brother is right; they would never believe an Indian over their own people.

“Besides, they think the whole village was wiped out. They don’t know there were any survivors. Grandmother’s wise words eased Bluebird’s mind, but she still wished they were miles away.

They raided the food supplies, enjoying beans and peaches to supplement the deer meat. With grateful hearts and full bellies, they crawled under the blankets and slept.

At daylight, they were on the trail again, heading straight north. Grandfather said that another day’s travel would bring them to the Canadian border, where they’d be safe.

Twilight came early. They were exhausted from traveling, and glad to stop for the night in a small clearing in the forest. Grandfather said it was safe to make a small fire to keep warm. Bluebird huddled over the flames, roasting deer meat and heating beans from the supplies on the sled. They enjoyed the luxury of hot food and warmth. Grandmother dug in the snow and found some “Indian Tea” leaves.

When she put them into hot water and let them steep, the familiar aroma warmed and cheered the family from the inside out, giving Bluebird hope that they would make it to safety. They had their herd of Appaloosas, a strong team of huge draft horses, and a sled full of supplies. If they could just get across the border, they would survive.

Grandfather Gray Wolf dozed, remembering the days when he was young and strong. He thought of the time he and Little Flower and their baby daughter had escaped from the combined forces of General Howard and Colonel Miles.

The proud Nez Perce nation had been fleeing toward Canada to avoid being forced onto a reservation. Chief Joseph and his peaceful tribe had been chased relentlessly. Many men, women and children had been slaughtered by the Army.

Now they were in a valley, with all escape routes blocked. Worn from the thirteen-hundred-mile chase, many were weak and sick from hunger and cold.

Chief Joseph, realizing that his people could go no further, had decided to surrender. He summoned the few surviving young men. “Choose your best horses. Under cover of darkness and the snowstorm tonight, wrap blankets around you, your wives and your children. Silently slip into the forest, between the two armies who are closing in on this valley, and ride away.

“They will find only this chief with his weak, old and sick survivors. It is the only chance I see for a remnant of our proud people and our beautiful horses to survive.

Go swiftly and silently. May the Great Spirit guide you and keep you safe. May your families grow and prosper. We will rest easier in confinement, knowing that some of our people remain free.”

The snow had soon covered their tracks. By morning there was no trace of the small group of escapees. Gray Wolf smiled to himself, thinking of the good lives they had carved out in their new home for many years, until the massacre when their grandchildren were young. They had indeed been a village of peaceful people.

Over the years, they had traded and inter-married with White Bear’s Blackfoot village a few miles away, and that is where they had fled for help when their homes were destroyed.

Now White Bear’s village too, was gone and they were fleeing again. Would they ever find peace?

He prayed to the Great Spirit for help. Physically unable to fight like a warrior this time, Gray Wolf feared for Little Flower and Bluebird and Raven. He needed more than his own powers now. He relaxed, giving his burden to the Great Spirit, and dozed again.

Grandmother Little Flower’s husband was healing and gaining strength. He was fifty-six summers now, but he was a strong man and he would recover. She continued tanning rabbit hides while her grandchildren drove the big horses. 

It was a blessing that the hides Little Flower had been saving had not burned in the teepee. She finished making fur-lined moccasins and mittens for everyone. With warm hands and feet, they would survive the cold. She began lacing rabbit hides together, alternating the brown and gray ones with white hides. The variety of colors in the furs made a pleasing patch work design. As they travelled, grandmother continued lacing hides together to make a quilt.

From the many bolts of cotton material on the supply sled, she chose a blue one with white flowers for the quilt backing. The rabbit fur blanket would make a warm but light weight covering for her granddaughter’s bed. She stitched the layers together with thread where each hide joined, and hemmed it on all sides.

Again, they took shelter for the night in dense forest, where the wind was broken by the trees. The storm was less fierce in the lee of the wind, and they slept together, safe and warm.

In the morning, there were patches of blue sky and less snow was falling. The wind still blew, but the trees blocked the worst of it. They started on their way again with high hopes that the storm was calming. By mid day the sky had cleared and the sun was shining, turning the open areas into a sparkling sea of white.

When the sun was hanging on the western horizon, they came out of the forest into a sheltered valley with tree-covered slopes on either side. It stretched a mile long and half a mile wide, with snow barely ankle-deep. Most of the storm had missed this valley. Grandfather said it was a good place to stop. To Bluebird’s relief, he assured them that they were finally in Canada, and could settle here in this lush, beautiful valley.