SQUAWS TAKE LEAVE OF THEIR HUSBANDS.
The condemned men, and the others who were to be deported after the
execution took place, were called upon to bid good-bye to their wives
and children, who were to be taken down to Fort Snelling. The wives were
allowed a few at a time to go inside the jail and with the children have
words of conversation with the husband and father. After a reasonable
time they took leave of them. There were no hysterics, no sobs, no tears,
but the heart-beats and the thoughts were there. Love? Yes. How deep, no
white on-looker could tell. It was a supreme moment to the poor Indian
and his dusky wife. Their roads were very divergent from this time, and
in low tones they answered in their own tongue. Some of the soldiers made
slighting remarks, but there are those among educated whites who have no
serious moments, no serious thoughts; they have not time to be serious,
and no inclination; but this was a serious time for those poor creatures;
they knew the hour had arrived when they must say good-bye forever on
earth to their red-skinned partners in life's joys and sorrows. No hand
shake; no embrace; no crying; but a sorrowful, affectionate look, and
they turn their back on them forever.
The women and children are taken down to Fort Snelling, and in a camp
prepared for them they are put for the winter, and a strong guard placed
about them to prevent any outrages being committed. The night the news
was carried to them of the execution the wails of the poor creatures
could be heard for a long distance away: "Rachael mourning for her
children and would not be comforted, because they were not."
Much sorrow was expressed for them because we could but feel that they
were unfortunate creatures, endowed with all the attributes of human
beings.
The mortality among them was very great and hundreds died before the
winter of suspense had passed away.
In April, 1863, the camp was broken up and the remaining ones were placed
in a steamer for St. Louis, from whence they were to be sent up the
Missouri River to the Crow Creek agency. Some died on the way, and as
they left their homes and looked for the last time on their native hills,
a dark cloud was crushing out their hearts. Soon after landing at Crow
Creek every tepee had its sick and anxious hearts--mothers and children
far away from their dead.
The deported ones joined their families in time, and as the years glide
on they have had time for reflection, and the events, as they undoubtedly
come trooping back to them, furnish food for thought.