Journal Notes

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At daybreak on November 29, 1864, the sound of the drumming of hooves on the sand flats interrupted the hushed routine of the Indian women and children. Some of the women believed it was only buffalo running hard in the near distance, but it was Col. John Chivington and his men and they had come to attack and kill the Cheyenne in the camp.

Mochi was among the numerous Indians frantic to escape the slaughter. She watched her mother get shot in the head and heard the cries of her father and husband as they fought for their lives. Mesmerized by the carnage erupting around her, she paused briefly to consider what was happening. In that moment of reflection one of Chivington’s soldiers rode toward her. She stared at him as he quickly approached, her face mirrored shock and dismay. She heard a slug sing viciously past her head. The soldier jumped off his ride and attacked her. Mochi fought back hard and eventually broke free from the soldier’s grip. Before the man could start after her again she grabbed a gun lying on the ground near her, fired, and killed him.

To learn more about Mochi read Mochi’s War: The Tragedy of Sand Creek.

It’s time to enter to win a copy of Mochi’s War: The Tragedy of Sand Creek.

Sunflowers were in full bloom at the site of the Sand Creek Massacre yesterday. I stood alone at the top of a bluff looking down on the dry creek bed Cheyenne women, children, elderly, and the infirmed raced along as they tried to flee from Col. John Chivington and his troops hell-bent on massacring them more than 150 years ago. I convinced myself I heard the voices of the survivors in the wind through the tall grass. For a moment I occupied the same ground Mochi had and I’ll never forget the emotion that washed over me.

The following are remembrances past down from one generation of Cheyenne to another about the events at Sand Creek in 1864.

“They never really forgot what happened. They would cry whenever they told about Sand Creek… When everyone started running the young ones would get lost. Those that hid watched the soldiers from their hiding place. During that time when it was almost over, soldiers came out and cut open the bellies of women who were going to have a child. When they cut the child out they cut his throat.” Emma Red Hat and William Red Hat, Jr.

“The battle scattered people… At Sand Creek, you can go there at any time of the day or night and if you close your mind to everything else you can feel the children, when they’re congregating and laughing and having fun. The old ladies mostly congregating and laughing and having fun. The old ladies mostly congregate in the shade. The young warriors congregate in the rocks.” Robert Toahty

To learn more about Mochi read Mochi’s War: The Tragedy of Sand Creek.

Traveling to Colorado today to launch the book Mochi’s War:  The Tragedy of Sand Creek.  I’ll be at the Tattered Book Store in Denver Thursday, June 11 from 7 – 8 p.m. and in Eads, Colorado at the Pioneer Theatre from noon to 1 p.m. on Sunday, June 14.  In between those dates I’ll be Montrose, Colorado talking about women of the Old West.  Hope to see you there.

Enter to win a very special book entitled Mochi’s War: The Tragedy of Sand Creek.

Colorado Territory in 1864 wasn’t merely the wild west, it was a land in limbo while the Civil War raged in the east and politics swirled around its potential admission to the union. The territorial governor, John Evans, had ambitions on the national stage should statehood occur–and he was joined in those ambitions by a local pastor and erstwhile Colonel in the Colorado militia, John Chivington. The decision was made to take a hard line stance against any Native Americans who refused to settle on reservations–and in the fall of 1864, Chivington set his sights on a small band of Cheyenne under the chief Black Eagle, camped and preparing for the winter at Sand Creek.

When the order to fire on the camp came on November 28, one officer refused, other soldiers in Chivington’s force, however, immediately attacked the village, disregarding the American flag, and a white flag of surrender that was run up shortly after the soldiers commenced firing.

In the ensuing “battle” fifteen members of the assembled militias were killed and more than 50 wounded Between 150 and 200 of Black Kettle’s Cheyenne were estimated killed, nearly all elderly men, women and children.

As with many incidents in American history, the victors wrote the first version of history–turning the massacre into a heroic feat by the troops. Soon thereafter, however, Congress began an investigation into Chivington’s actions and he was roundly condemned. His name still rings with infamy in Colorado and American history. Mochi’s War explores this story and its repercussions into the last part of the nineteenth Century from the perspective of a Cheyenne woman whose determination swept her into some of the most dramatic and heartbreaking moments in the conflicts that grew through the West in the aftermath of Sand Creek.

To learn more about Mochi read Mochi’s War: The Tragedy of Sand Creek.

Enter to win a very special book entitled Mochi’s War: The Tragedy of Sand Creek.

This book captivates a ruthless woman warrior who was born out of the pits of the Sand Creek Massacre. The word ‘warrior’ sends a tingle of fear down the spine and conjures up an imaginary fierce, merciless fighter seemingly invulnerable to fear or intimidation.

There are many reasons that a Native Indian woman would fight and become one of the women warriors. Most nineteenth century women warriors who fought in battles and conflicts did not pursue the life of a warrior on a permanent basis.

Most women fought because there was an urgent need for them to do so, which the reader will find out quickly that was the case for the young 24 year-old Cheyenne warrior.

The authors of this book writes of the malice in the young woman’s heart and the revenge that sat heavily on the edge of her tomahawk. The woman warrior fought to the death using bloodthirsty tactics to achieve victory. Not the usual image that we would associate with women, but there were many Native American warriors.

When asked to name some famous Indian women, most people have difficulty in recalling anyone other than Pocahontas or Sacagawea, the reader will have no difficulty with remembering Mochi, the Cheyenne Warrior after engaging themselves in this title, Mochi’s War.

Rebecka Lyman

Cheyenne and Arapaho Tribal Tribune

To learn more about Mochi read Mochi’s War: The Tragedy of Sand Creek.

Advance praise for Mochi’s War:

“The authors have again collaborated to write Western history in an accurate yet accessible manner for mainstream readers…this biographical account provides a counterpoint to the many works that have mythologized such women as Pocahontas and Sacajawea.” – Library Journal ***starred review***

Select praise for other books by Chris Enss and Howard Kazanjian:

“Unbelievable…” – The New York Post (Death Row All-Stars)

“Bittersweet and engrossing…” – True West Magazine (The Cowboy and the Señorita)

MOCHI’S WAR: The Tragedy of Sand Creek

TwoDot, an imprint of Globe Pequot, is proud to announce the June 16, 2015 release of Mochi’s War: The Tragedy of Sand Creek, by Chris Enss and Howard Kazanjian (978-0-7627-6077-0, $16.95 trade paperback).

After the Sand Creek Massacre of 1864, one woman survived physically unharmed, but emotionally devastated by the destruction of her tribe and determined to avenge her dead relatives. Her story has rarely been told, and Mochi’s War is the first book to tell it in full.

On November 28, 1864, Colonel John Chivington and his militia attacked a Cheyenne Indian village in southeastern Colorado. Between 150 and 200 Cheyenne Indians were estimated killed, nearly all elderly men, women, and children. The events at Sand Creek motivated Mochi to embark a decade long reign of terror. With each raid she remembered the horror of the massacre, and it goaded her on to terrible violence against those encroaching on Indian soil. The war between the Indians and the government lasted ten years after the Sand Creek Massacre occurred. Mochi’s war ended with her arrest and imprisonment in 1874 – the only woman ever to be incarcerated by the United States as a prisoner of War.

Mochi’s War: The Tragedy of Sand Creek explores the story and its repercussions into the last part of the nineteenth century from the perspective of a Cheyenne woman whose determination swept her into some of the most dramatic and heartbreaking moments in the conflicts that grew through the west in the aftermath of Sand Creek.

A portion of the book’s proceeds will go to the Sand Creek Massacre National Historic Site.

Enter to win. Final week to enter to win a copy of

None Wounded, None Missing, All Dead: The Story of Elizabeth Bacon Custer.

A group of some forty officers and their wives congregated in the parlor of George and Elizabeth Custer’s home at Fort Abraham Lincoln in Dakota Territory. A fiddler entertained several men and women at one end of the tastefully decorated room. More guests paraded past a table filled with a variety of food and drinks at the other. Elizabeth remained by the door, kindly welcoming latecomers to the party, already in progress. She touched a finger to her lips, indicating that the attendees should enter quietly.

The music stopped, and a hush fell over the guests. Elizabeth’s sister-in-law Margaret Calhoun and her husband, Tom, and family friend Agnes marched into the parlor and crossed to the musicians. All three wore costumes: Maggie dressed as a Sioux Indian maiden. Agnes and Tom were dressed as Quakers. George and the others in attendance stifled a chuckle as the trio struck a dignified pose for the captive audience. They were acting out a scene from a current event in the region. The object of the entertaining charade, or tableau, was to guess the event and whom the players represented.

Partygoers enthusiastically shouted out their best guesses. Others issued comical remarks that made everyone erupt into laughter. When guests announced that the performers were portraying Quaker missionaries evangelizing to Native American, the actors broke character and took a bow. The happy audience applauded their efforts, and the music started up again.

To learn more about Elizabeth Bacon Custer and how she lived to glorify her husband’s memory read None Wounded, None Missing, All Dead.

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None Wounded, None Missing, All Dead: The Story of Elizabeth Bacon Custer.

Spirited music and laughter burst through the doors of Chicago’s Opera House. The velveteen drapes subdued the whir of roulette wheels that lined the theatre lobby and muffled the voices of the faro dealers. Patrons poured into the establishment, seeking entertainment and shelter from the freezing cold. Chicago was a city of handsome dwellings whose elegance and refinements were reflected in the brilliant social life. A throb beat through its every artery. One of the many acts that attracted the attention of the bustling crowds was Lydia Thompson’s British Blondes. This troupe of celebrated actresses, boasting overwhelming proportions and specializing in dancing and pantomime, performed nightly for packed houses. They had many devoted famous fans, including the Grand Duke Alexis of Russia, Wild Bill Hickok, and George Custer.

Over the Thanksgiving holiday in 1869, when George had left for his travels east without Elizabeth, he had attended the show a couple times, enjoying not only the burlesque styling of the irresistible sirens, but also partaking in the popular games of chance that greeted people when they entered the building. George had been in in Michigan taking care of family business and then he had traveled to Illinois to visit Philip Sheridan, his former army commander and respected mentor, who was ill. News that he was in the Windy City spread quickly, and George was soon inundated with invitations to attend dinners and theatrical openings. His reputation as a soldier and military leader, combat experience, preceded him. Everyone wanted to be in George’s company, as he delighted in the attention.

To learn more about Elizabeth Bacon Custer and how she lived to glorify her husband’s memory read None Wounded, None Missing, All Dead.

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None Wounded, None Missing, All Dead: The Story of Elizabeth Bacon Custer.

The day was gray, and a raw, cold wind swirled outside the windows of the late judge Daniel Bacon’s home in Monroe, Michigan. It was early fall, 1868. The judge’s daughter, Elizabeth, and son-in-law, George, sat inside the parlor of the stately home, each quietly involved in his or her own task. George was hunched over a writing table, working on a book about his days at West Point. Elizabeth set aside some sewing she was doing and drifted over to a piano in the corner of the room. Her husband glanced up from his writing long enough to see Elizabeth wasn’t going far. After weeks of being apart, he wanted her near him at all times.

The genteel army wife made herself comfortable at the polished keyboard and then reached for a stack of music bound in a faded leather pouch. She untied the ribbon holding the music together and sifted through the pages. Inside one of the pieces of sheet music was a daguerreotype of George. It had been taken in April 1865, and he was dressed in the uniform of a major general, the two stars on his collar clearly displayed. Some of the music had left its imprint on the picture, the notes like a melody over his face.

Elizabeth sat her husband’s picture on the stand next to the song she selected and began to play. The ebullient sound filled the air. Although he was tapping his foot in time with the beat, George’s attention was trained on the assignment before him.

To learn more about Elizabeth Bacon Custer and how she lived to glorify her husband’s memory read None Wounded, None Missing, All Dead.

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None Wounded, None Missing, All Dead:

The Story of Elizabeth Bacon Custer.

George Custer raced his stallion, Jack, at full speed over the seemingly limitless grass-covered plateau miles away from the main entrance of Fort Riley, Kansas. The foam-flecked animal was inches behind Elizabeth and her fast horse, Custis Lee. Both riders urged their horses on to even greater speed, the cold wind biting at their smiling faces.

George steered his ride along the foot of a high hill. Reaching a steep decline, he abruptly brought his horse to a halt. Elizabeth, riding sidesaddle and dressed in a black riding skirt, uniform jacket, and a light-blue felt hat with a leather visor in front known as an excelsior hat, pulled farther ahead of her husband. Quickly looking around, George turned Jack in the direction of a narrow trail through a flinty apron of rocks. He followed the crude path as it wound around the hill and then suddenly dropped back down, coming out the other side of the steep decline in front of Elizabeth. She waved playfully at him. The horses found their rhythm and broke into a smooth gallop. Elizabeth glanced over at George and giggled like a little girl. The two rode on toward a distant, tumbled pile of thunderheads, sooty black at their base and white as whipped cream where they towered against the dome of the sky.

They slowed their horses and stopped next to a cluster of rocks. George dismounted and helped Elizabeth down from her mount. Draping their arms around each other they stood quietly, staring at the land stretched out before them. “The prairie was worth looking over,” Elizabeth noted in her memoirs, “because it changed like the sea.” “People thought of the deep-grass as brown, but in the spring it could look almost anything else,” she added, “purple, or gold, or red, or any kind of blue.”

To learn more about Elizabeth Bacon Custer and how she lived to glorify her husband’s memory read None Wounded, None Missing, All Dead.