Heres a couple paragraphs of what was workshopped in Taos: Smoke hangs over the river valley like shreds of silver silk. The autumn dawn is perfectly still; no breeze stirs the chattery cottonwoods. The scent of coffee is strong on the air, and grunts of waking men punctuate the rising birdsong. In the cool shady grove, shards of angled morning sun dance on the currents of the river and the creek where they join as one. Just as the natural confluence of the two streams brought opposing forces together, such was the human intent that quiet morning. The eyes of a nation were fastened on this place, this sacred spot of the Plains Indians, and its collective hope was pinned on the treaty that would be signed this day. The men who came together at the banks of Medicine Lodge Creek believed that a lasting peace could be crafted, quelling the savage violence stampeding across the Great Plains. Peace for the pioneers, venturing ever further west in their quest for land and a fresh start; peace for the Indians, tirelessly trailing the buffalo in the nomadic tradition of their Old Ones. The one-note cluck of a wild hen turkey is answered by a syncopated serenade from the toms fanning and strutting in the glade beyond the grove. In a whoosh of feathers and blur of movement, the spell is broken. Shots are fired; voices raised. The day begins. Fifteen thousand Indians and five hundred U.S. troops, together with eastern reporters and eager politicians, set up camp in October 1867 along that river running through the red cedar hills of southern Kansas. Day after day, negotiations continued between the proud chiefs and the implacable soldiers and legislators representing the interests of the U.S. government. Three treaties were eventually signed in the shade of the cottonwood grove.
Posted on: Fri, 25 Jul 2014 13:15:49 +0000
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