Punished Woman Fork Valley / Battle Canyon

It was the last battle of the 15 year long Indian Wars that was to be fought in Kansas.  It was September 27, 1878. It was two years after the destruction of much of the 7th US Cavalry under Custer at the Little Bighorn.  The rag tag band of Cheyenne, about 200 women, children and old ones, and 90 warriors of the Dog Soldier Society led by Little Wolf and Dull Knife had sneaked out of there forced reservation outside Fort Reno, Nevada to attempt the 1500 mile journey northwest to their homeland, the Yosemite Valley. They didn't know there were plans to make their home a National Park.



They, as almost all Indians moved to reservations had been, were told there would be good land and plenteous food provided by the US Government.  Instead the land was barren, the food rejected for US Army consumption or just rotten. Disease and even starvation was taking lives every day.  No amount of intervention by concerned army or civilian whites made a difference. There was too much money to be made in this new 'Indian Trade'. For the Cheyenne it was stay and surely die, or escape and die trying to get home.

 The newspapers and press of the nation screamed 'Reservation Jumpers out!' 'Renegades on the warpath' White settlers at risk of horrid death and mutilation'.  Its good the press never exaggerates today, isn't it? So the army was ordered out.




Followed, but never stopped the 300 found themselves in a very defensible position. A canyon that ended in a box with a cave at the end in which to hide their women and children and old men.  The warriors took their few guns to rifle pits that the women built at several points around the canyon walls and  the rest placed themselves closer to where Colonel William Lewis, commander of Fort Dodge, would lead his approximate 1,000 cavalry, infantry and artillery south of the canyon to lure them in.  It was a by the book Indian ambush.  Till one Indian fired his rifle too soon.  Then it was an all day battle.

Col, Lewis had declared to his troops that he would catch all the Cheyenne or die trying.  He did the latter. The Colonel was mortally wounded after having his horse shot from under him late in the day and was taken from the field. The second in command called a halt to the fighting and regrouped his troops to the south.

The next day the Indians had abandoned their last pack horses and supplies and continued off northwest again, this time all on foot. In several months a few of them actually made it to the Yellowstone Country, only to soon be returned to Oklahoma.


All of this occurred within 10 miles of our campsite at Scott's Lake State Park. All of this is still remembered, grieved, assimilated by white and Indian alike to this day. And now by us.

Life size iron silhouette stands atop the bluff
 to the northwest of the park ranger station

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Upon leaving the site of the battle we drove the couple of miles north back into the park.  There a mule deer mama greeted us but refused to share her meal.

Then we spent a couple of very lazy hours on the quiet beach at the lake, a short walk from the coach.

The water is all artesian here. Cold springs feed from the lake bottom. But the water in the swimming area was a warm 85 degrees or so within three feet or so of the surface.

Then we were invited to learn how to play a dominoes game of  'Chicken Feet', or 'TRAIN', as our new friends and next door neighbors called it.

Bob and Zaida have about 1500 acres in crops and beef cattle about 20 miles 'as the crow flies' west of the park.  They love to bring their fifth wheel over several times a year to enjoy the cool valley and new friends they make in camp. Their son now farms their ground and they are enjoying a retirement that less and less small farmers are finding affordable.  Yes, they are small farmers out here.  Bob says that in their county they are the third smallest.

Greg and Dianne rolled their big popup in this afternoon as well.  They are on a three week vacation from their home in North Jersey, along the ocean. They are heading as far west as the Gunnison Canyon and Robb State Park in Colorado, then south to Big bend National Park in Texas.  They love to camp, hike, and travel but they especially love square dancing!  Greg is a professional and licensed (by ASCAP) caller.

He's called alot of square dances. Even competitive dances in pools!

But I think Bob and Zaida had him beat with one he'd never heard of.  A donkey square dance.

Bob described the affair and what I remember is you get a donkey.  Keep him in his trailer outside.  Then in the middle of the dance you stop the music, take the men to one room and women to another, blindfold them, and guide them one at a time to a place where you squeeze their right hand inside a big plastic bag with a round opening filled with gooey stuff that makes them think you are stuffing their hand up the donkey's ... OK.  I'll take the water square dance anytime!

Now pass the ice cream!

Finally, as the supermoon rose again over the bluffs to the east we said our farewells.  Greg and Dianne to leave early tomorrow morning.  And Bob and Zaida, and probably we too, to sleep in as late as possible.

And all of this just miles from where starving native Americans were being tracked and hunted down like escaped zoo animals. "When  will  we  ever  learn?  When  will  we ev-er  learn."

-Ken