by Patrick E. Craig
Hannah Roberts leaned on the sill and looked through the small panes of the second story window in the old farmhouse.
"Oh pancakes," she thought, "another gray day."
It wasn't exactly raining, but the fog had blown in from Bodega, loaded with moisture from the cold Pacific, and the Cypress trees along the fence line dripped and looked mournful. The mist condensed on the window and ran down over the sill in errant rivulets to attack the peeling paint on the outside of the house. Grandpa had told her the ranch was well over one hundred years old and it really showed today. Hannah frowned and leaned her face on her hands as she watched the billowing fog stream by.
"I've been in Petaluma almost a week and we haven't had one sunny day yet."
Hannah studied her reflection in the window. Her brown hair was pulled back from her face showing her dark eyes, and the touch of red and gold in her bangs softened the strong brow and determined looking chin. "Of all the places in the world, how did I end up in California for the summer? I miss my friends!"
Just then she heard her Grandma call up the stairs, "Boo, breakfast is ready, honey."
Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about her situation. Her Dad had gotten an offer for a new job in Texas, so she was staying with her grandparents while her parents looked for a new home. Hannah hated the thought of moving from Michigan. All her friends were there and she had been getting ready for the riding competition at the stable where she took lessons when her Mom gave her the news. She really missed her youth group at the church.
"My whole summer is ruined! You'd think I could at least have a sunny day to make up for it." The only good thing about being here was that her cousin, Jacie Masters, whom everyone called Punkin, was coming for a two-week visit.
"I hope she’s not stuck up," thought Hannah. "I could really use a friend right now." Pulling on her sweatshirt, she started down to the kitchen.
As she went along the hallway lined with faded pictures and family portraits, Boo realized that she actually did like the old house. The day her folks dropped her off, Grandpa had taken her for a tour of the ranch. She had a "thing" for old buildings and mysterious settings and the old ranch house certainly had those. The rambling three-story structure was set on a knoll in the middle of 1600 acres of land between Petaluma and the coastal hills. Hannah particularly loved the old barns and corrals surrounding it. The house was built out from a huge stone wall that stood against the side of the knoll. Grandpa told her there had been an older building here that burned down, leaving one wall with a big fireplace in it, and that Grandma's Grandfather built the house out from the wall. The winding road that led up to the knoll and ended in a circular driveway in front of the house, reminded her of an old southern mansion, like Tara in "Gone With The Wind."
Tall Cypress trees on the back slope of the knoll acted as a break against the wind that seemed to blow in every afternoon through the gap in the western hills. The house had a somewhat ramshackle appearance because of all the rooms that had been added over the years, but in spite of that it was still stately and beautiful. A wide porch swept around the front of the house and broad stairs ran up to the doublewide front door. Pillars held the old porch roof up where it joined the house just below her bedroom window. Boo had already planned on sneaking out and climbing down the post to go exploring at night.
The second story was a maze of rooms and the top of the house had a huge attic with a widow's walk looking out toward the ocean. To the west, the fields rose up into the foothills of the coastal range. There were forests of Eucalyptus and Pines, and tall, bald outcrops of rocks. Grandpa has said there were good riding trails and she was anxious to saddle up the grey mare that Grandpa kept in the pasture. Northward, the land broke up into canyons winding crookedly up to the top of the ridge. Out of these came small streams that fed into the lake beyond the big pasture.
"Fishing and swimming," said Grandpa, "If we can get some sun."
All together the ranch was an interesting place. When they had driven in the gate Boo noticed the little sign that said, "Welcome to Ghost Dancer Ranch," and she had made a mental note to ask Grandma about the name.
Boo skipped the last two steps of the back stairwell coming down from the back of the second story and landed in the kitchen. Grandma bustled about, frying up some bacon and eggs
"Sit down, girl, and pour some milk. Eggs will be ready in a minute."
Boo poured a big glass of fresh milk and after a long, satisfying drink she said, "Grandma, why do they call this place Ghost Dancer Ranch?"
"Well, honey," said Grandma, "One of the last of the great Ghost Dancers came here in 1891 and hid out on the ranch. Ever since then the locals always called it Ghost Dancer Ranch."
"What's a Ghost Dancer, Grandma?" asked Boo.
"Finish your eggs and I'll tell you the story," said Grandma.
After breakfast Boo followed Grandma into the small room off the kitchen that served as Grandma's sewing room and office. Boo sat down as Grandma rummaged around in the closet until she found an old box. She opened it and began to spread old newspaper clippings on her desk. Boo could read some of them. "Ghost Dance rebellion comes to California," said one. Another said, "Ghost Dancer Red Bull captured in Ukiah."
"You may not know this, but my family on my Dad's side is part Sioux Indian," said Grandma. "My Dad was one-quarter Sioux, so that makes you one-sixteenth. We are descended from the Horse Tribes of the Great Plains that fought the white soldiers in defense of their tribal homelands."
"You mean like Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull and all the famous Indians we see on the history channel?" asked Boo.
"Exactly," answered Grandma. "The Sioux were fierce warriors and even though they were outnumbered they fought the Army almost to a standstill. It wasn't until after the Battle of Little Big Horn that the U.S. Government sent so many soldiers to the frontier that they finally overwhelmed the tribes."
"Isn’t that where General Custer was killed?" asked Boo.
"Boo Bear, you do know your history," smiled Grandma, "But that wasn’t the end of the story. After their defeat almost all of the Indians were confined on reservations. Rations and supplies that had been guaranteed by treaty were poor quality, if they arrived at all. A lot of the government agents were crooks who stole from the tribes."
Grandma paused for a moment and then went on. "By 1890 a major revolt was brewing among the Indians. A Paiute Indian named Wovoka, who claimed that he was the messiah come to prepare the Indians for their salvation, started a movement called the Ghost Dance. Tribes all over the country came to Nevada to meet with Wovoka and learn to dance the Ghost Dance. Wovoka claimed that the earth would soon perish and then come alive again, to be inherited by the Indians, including the dead, for an eternal existence free from suffering."
"Gee, Grandma, that sounds a little like Christianity," said Boo.
"Well, actually Wovoka got a lot of his ideas from the Bible, but he added in some of his own. He was very strict about living at peace with everyone and being honest in all your dealings. He warned about following the ways of the whites, especially drinking alcohol, which he called "the destroyer." His followers believed that if they exhausted themselves dancing the Ghost Dance they could have a kind of death experience and catch a glimpse of the paradise-to-come, filled with their ancestors."
"But how did the Ghost Dance come to Petaluma?" asked Boo, fascinated by the story.
"Well, honey, this is where our family comes in. In early October of 1890, Kicking Bear, a great Sioux warrior, visited Chief Sitting Bull in Dakota. He told him that great numbers of Indians were followers of the new religion. But Kicking Bear lied to Sitting Bull. Instead of telling the Chief about Wovoka’s desire to live peacefully with all people, he tried to use the new religion to instigate a revolt against the whites. He got Sitting Bull to go on the warpath and showed him special Ghost Dance Shirts, which he claimed would protect the Indians against the white man's bullets."
"When the American government heard about Sitting Bull’s involvement, they immediately sent troops to arrest Sitting Bull, and to bring the "uprising" to a close. The American troops, still angry about their defeat at The Little Big Horn, murdered Sitting Bull and instigated the terrible massacre at Wounded Knee. Some of the survivors fled to Nevada and California. One of them, a war chief named Red Bull, came to Petaluma, bringing his wife and daughter and hoping that General Vallejo would protect him, but General Vallejo had died a year earlier and there seemed to be no help for them. As providence would have it, they met a local rancher, John Jamison, who was sympathetic to Red Bull. He invited the chief to stay at his ranch."
"The rancher, who was your Great-Great-Grandfather, fell in love with the chief's daughter and married her in 1893. Your Great-Grandfather Alton, my father, was born in 1900. When the local authorities found out Red Bull was hiding out on the ranch, they came to arrest him. Jamison warned Red Bull and he fled. The authorities didn’t bother your Great-Grandma Ruth since she was married to an influential local man, but Red Bull was captured in Ukiah and sent back to the Dakota's where he was hanged in 1895."
"Ever since then, they have called this place Ghost Dancer Ranch. They even say that the ghost of old Red Bull still dances the Ghost Dance, out in the caves on the back part of the ranch, but that's just ignorance gone to seed. I married your Grandpa Roberts in 1965 and your Dad, John Alton Roberts, was born in 1967. Then you came along in 1994, and now here we are."
"Wow, Grandma," said Boo, "How come I never heard that story before?"
"Well, honey, your Dad never seemed to be too interested. He didn't like farm life and as soon as he could he left here to pursue a career in business. Your Aunt Sharon knew the story but when she got married to Bob Masters and moved to Marin County, she didn’t seem so interested in the ranch anymore. You're the first one of my Grandkids I've told it to."
Grandma glanced at the clock above the desk. "Oh, goodness, look at the time! I've got chores to do now, Boo. Why don't you stay here and read some of these clippings?" said Grandma, and she left Boo alone in the office.
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Deep in the dark cave two voices whispered together.
"We must awake the others, for the time has come."
"Yes," said the second voice, "But we must be careful, for the enemy will send his warriors to help the child."
"Yes, careful, careful, we must be very careful. Let the drum sound to awaken those who sleep, for we must be strong and walk in the strength of the Dark One."
"Let us dance, then…"
