Three Years on the Plains: Observations of Indians, 1867-1870

In Short

This book serves as a primary-source record of the American West between 1867 and 1870. Written by a military chaplain stationed in the Wyoming Territory, it blends travelogue, ethnography, and political commentary. The narrative captures the raw, often brutal reality of life on the frontier, juxtaposing the vanishing customs of the Sioux and Pawnee with the encroaching industrial might of the Union Pacific Railroad. It remains a vital artifact for understanding the ideological friction that defined the post-Civil War era and the systemic collapse of tribal autonomy.

The Story

The narrative begins with a stark realization: the romanticized "noble savage" found in popular literature is, in the author's estimation, a fiction that obscures the complex, often messy reality of the living Indian. Stationed at military outposts like Fort Laramie, the author serves as a witness to a world in transition. He frames the era not merely as a series of skirmishes, but as an inevitable and tragic displacement.

The arc of the book follows the mounting tension between the U.S. government and the Great Plains tribes, particularly the Sioux. The author meticulously catalogs the cultural markers of these tribes—their methods of burial, their internal politics, and their religious ceremonies—while simultaneously describing the encroaching infrastructure of the railroad. He details the building of stations and the daily dangers faced by pioneers and soldiers alike, including the constant threat of raids, horse theft, and the harsh, unforgiving geography of the "Bad Lands."

Central to this progression is the 1868 treaty process. The author provides a rare, granular look at the negotiations, recording the speeches of figures like Red Cloud, who articulate a profound sense of loss as their ancestral hunting grounds are carved up by surveyors and soldiers. The narrative then shifts to the personal level, chronicling individual tragedies, such as the funeral of a chief’s daughter at Fort Laramie, and the haunting, often graphic reports of massacres—most notably the Chivington massacre at Sand Creek. These accounts serve as the emotional core of the text, highlighting the hypocrisy of "Christian" soldiers engaging in indiscriminate violence.

The book moves toward its conclusion by shifting its focus to the political aftermath of these conflicts. The author describes the delegations of chiefs who travel to Washington, D.C., attempting to appeal to the "Great Father" in the White House. These final chapters are marked by a sense of exhaustion and quiet resignation. The dialogue between Red Cloud and government officials exposes the irreconcilable gap between the tribal view of the land as an indivisible heritage and the American government's view of it as a resource to be managed and settled. The work ends not with a resolution, but with a series of linguistic tables and maps, grounding the lofty political debates in the cold, hard reality of miles, treaty terms, and the systematic conversion of tribal life into a relic of the past.

How It Unfolds

The cultural landscape The author opens by establishing the setting, categorizing the tribes and their traditions while dismissing the popular myths of the day. He explores the origins of tribal customs, from the "Sun Dance" to the burial rituals of chiefs, documenting them with the precision of an outsider observing a world he knows is fleeting.

The encroachment of industry The focus shifts to the Union Pacific Railroad and the rapid expansion of frontier stations like Julesburg and Sidney. These outposts serve as the staging grounds for both commerce and conflict, where soldiers and settlers confront the disruption caused by the iron rail.

The cycle of violence The book tracks the escalation of war, detailing the brutal raids and the retaliatory military campaigns that follow. The author provides accounts of specific confrontations, such as the skirmishes at Fort Phil. Kearney and the tragic, senseless slaughter of the Cheyenne at Sand Creek.

The diplomacy of the desperate In the final section, the narrative centers on the peace councils. The author transcribes the desperate, dignified pleas of tribal leaders as they negotiate with government officials in Washington, revealing the disconnect between the two parties’ understanding of the land and human dignity.

The People

The book is populated by a cast of characters who represent the competing forces of the frontier. Red Cloud, the Oglala Sioux chief, emerges as the most formidable presence. He is depicted as a man of immense gravity and political acumen, struggling to protect his people’s sovereignty against an enemy he describes as being as numerous as "blades of grass." His interactions with the government highlight the tragedy of a leader who understands he is fighting a war that cannot be won with bows and arrows.

Black Kettle, the Cheyenne chief, serves as the personification of the tragedy of peaceful intent. Despite his efforts to negotiate in good faith and his history of rescuing captive white settlers, he is eventually caught in the crossfire of a conflict driven by forces beyond his control. His death serves as the author's primary evidence of the government's failure to honor its own promises.

The Author stands as the mediator and chronicler. A man of faith, he is caught between his role as an army chaplain—an extension of the government—and his role as a sympathetic witness to the human cost of the expansion. He is neither a pure advocate for the tribes nor an apologist for the military, but a man attempting to make sense of the carnage he documents.

Finally, the Indian Traders, such as the man known as "Platt," represent the parasitic underside of the frontier. They are the individuals who exploit the dependencies created by the reservation system, turning the government's "bounty" into a cycle of debt and poverty, thereby standing as the cynical antagonists to the ideals of peace and progress.

In Its Own Voice

"The Indian of our day is an untidy lord of the soil, over which he roams unfettered by any laws of society, and often--in his wild state--not controlled by its decencies or in possession of its privileges."

The author frames the cultural tension as a lack of "civilization" and "decency," which he attributes to the neglect of the government and local settlers.

"The white man's word may be good to the white man, yet it is but wind when spoken to the Indian."

A sachem challenges a judge’s promise of protection, illustrating the deep-seated skepticism toward the legal and moral authority of the settlers.

"Our nation is melting away like the snow on the side of the hills where the sun is warm, while your people are like the blades of grass in the spring when summer is coming."

Red Cloud uses this metaphor in Washington, D.C., to articulate the inevitable demographic and territorial eclipse of his people by the American expansion.

What It's Really About

At its core, the book is a reflection on the moral cost of manifest destiny. The author grapples with the paradox of a nation that claims to be guided by Christian charity while simultaneously executing a policy of displacement and destruction against the tribes. He questions the utility of treaties that are fundamentally designed to fail and the role of the military in enforcing economic expansion under the guise of security. Ultimately, the book is an inquiry into the nature of "civilization"—asking whether it is found in the building of railroads and the creation of bureaucracy, or in the preservation of the ancestral ties and dignity that the tribes, in their own way, sought to maintain.

Why Read It Today

This book is essential for readers who prefer their history unvarnished by modern interpretation. It captures the specific, jarring voice of a 19th-century military man who is both an observer of a "vanishing" race and a participant in the machinery of their destruction. It is not an easy read; the prose is formal and occasionally marked by the era's patronizing attitudes toward indigenous peoples. However, the author’s inclusion of firsthand testimony, such as the haunting accounts of survivors of the Sand Creek massacre, provides a chilling reminder of the violence inherent in the American frontier.

The book feels like a conversation with a witness who knows he is recording something that will soon be forgotten. You will find yourself lingering on the descriptions of the vast, indifferent landscape of the Plains and the stark contrast between the military rituals at the forts and the desperate survival strategies of the tribes. It is a dense, sometimes fragmented, but profoundly authentic account that strips away the mythology of the West to reveal the messy, human, and often tragic reality underneath. For those interested in the complexities of colonial expansion, this volume remains an unsettling and deeply rewarding piece of primary history.