Retribution or Accident: A New Perspective on an Old Tragedy
As a direct descendant of Big Ox (Kathryn Souders is my aunt, and I am the grandson of Thomas J. Reed), I'm impelled to put forth a fresh perspective in response to Emily Spear DeWitt's great great grandmother’s account of an incident that culminated in the demise of my great-great-great grandfather's son. This is a personal conviction that has grown within my spirit.
DeWitt's version paints a picture of a tragic accident - an errant bullet from a .22 rifle, ostensibly intended for a pesky dog, striking down a young man. Yet, as I contemplate this narrative in the context of the fraught relations between the indigenous tribes and the settlers of that time, my soul insists on a different truth.
In the harsh winter of 1887, the relationships between the settlers and our ancestors were anything but amiable. This tension escalated when a Crow native was accused of slaughtering cattle. Could it be that the shooting of Big Ox's son was an act of retaliation, a cold-blooded murder guised as an unfortunate accident? I believe this to be so.
Contrary to DeWitt's account, I suspect there was no dog, but a calculated lie to veil an act of intentional retaliation.
Emily Spear DeWitt's portrayal positions her great great grandmother as a victim, a solitary woman amidst seven hundred Indians. But who were the true victims here? A grieving Big Ox, his tribe who lived in perpetual dread, their lives taken or disrupted, and their voices reduced to mere footnotes in history.
Eight years passed before DeWitt’s grandmother confessed her guilt, but did that confession bring peace to Big Ox and his grandchildren? No. Yet, she returned to the very community she had wounded, shielded by the laws of the "Great White Father in Washington." And not just that, her story became the subject of newspaper articles, turning their pain into her spectacle.
This retelling is not a cry for vengeance but an appeal for understanding and a counter-narrative. As Big Ox's descendant, I feel it's my duty to give voice to our ancestors, to shed light on our history, and to show that the life of my great-great-great grandfather's son was not extinguished by mere chance, but by an act steeped in disdain and prejudice.
Emily Spear DeWitt, the great-great-granddaughter of the woman who took that life, narrates one side of the story. But I, as a descendant of Big Ox, my intuition, and my heart push me to offer this counterpoint. He was not just a random victim, but a symbol of the cultural conflict that marred our shared past.
Him and the memory of his son deserves reverence and acknowledgement. Thus, this account is intended to honor them not as unfortunate victims of a stray bullet, but as a testament to the struggles their people faced, so that his life and the unjust death of his son resonate through the pages of history. Aho!
As a direct descendant of Big Ox (Kathryn Souders is my aunt, and I am the grandson of Thomas J. Reed), I'm impelled to put forth a fresh perspective in response to Emily Spear DeWitt's great great grandmother’s account of an incident that culminated in the demise of my great-great-great grandfather's son. This is a personal conviction that has grown within my spirit.
DeWitt's version paints a picture of a tragic accident - an errant bullet from a .22 rifle, ostensibly intended for a pesky dog, striking down a young man. Yet, as I contemplate this narrative in the context of the fraught relations between the indigenous tribes and the settlers of that time, my soul insists on a different truth.
In the harsh winter of 1887, the relationships between the settlers and our ancestors were anything but amiable. This tension escalated when a Crow native was accused of slaughtering cattle. Could it be that the shooting of Big Ox's son was an act of retaliation, a cold-blooded murder guised as an unfortunate accident? I believe this to be so.
Contrary to DeWitt's account, I suspect there was no dog, but a calculated lie to veil an act of intentional retaliation.
Emily Spear DeWitt's portrayal positions her great great grandmother as a victim, a solitary woman amidst seven hundred Indians. But who were the true victims here? A grieving Big Ox, his tribe who lived in perpetual dread, their lives taken or disrupted, and their voices reduced to mere footnotes in history.
Eight years passed before DeWitt’s grandmother confessed her guilt, but did that confession bring peace to Big Ox and his grandchildren? No. Yet, she returned to the very community she had wounded, shielded by the laws of the "Great White Father in Washington." And not just that, her story became the subject of newspaper articles, turning their pain into her spectacle.
This retelling is not a cry for vengeance but an appeal for understanding and a counter-narrative. As Big Ox's descendant, I feel it's my duty to give voice to our ancestors, to shed light on our history, and to show that the life of my great-great-great grandfather's son was not extinguished by mere chance, but by an act steeped in disdain and prejudice.
Emily Spear DeWitt, the great-great-granddaughter of the woman who took that life, narrates one side of the story. But I, as a descendant of Big Ox, my intuition, and my heart push me to offer this counterpoint. He was not just a random victim, but a symbol of the cultural conflict that marred our shared past.
Him and the memory of his son deserves reverence and acknowledgement. Thus, this account is intended to honor them not as unfortunate victims of a stray bullet, but as a testament to the struggles their people faced, so that his life and the unjust death of his son resonate through the pages of history. Aho!
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