A crime against humanity occurred more than one-hundred years ago, a massacre that still resonates, and haunts people to this day. I’m referring to the massacre at Wounded Knee Creek, the slaying of hundreds of men, women and children, their lifeless bodies left on the frozen ground surrounding this small, winding body of water.

In writing my novel, The Caregiver at Wounded Knee, I traveled to the Pine Ridge Reservation in southwest South Dakota. In late April, the grasslands had not yet drank enough water or basked in enough sun to turn themselves green. Even so, I was taken in by the evocative beauty of the land. I noted the rolling hills that seemed to stretch on and on as if they wished to reach out and touch the tip of eternity.

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As I drove to the site of the massacre I passed White Clay Creek. My characters, Rose and Nathaniel have a picnic along the banks of this creek. It’s the place where Rose flees to after witnessing the massacre, where she struggles to cope with the traumatic aftermath. Thankfully, Rose and Nathaniel create more happy memories there.

I included two real people in my novel, Doctor Charles Eastman and Elaine Goodale. Dr. Eastman by the way; was a real person, his Indian name being Ohiyesa. He was educated in the east and graduated from medical school. He married Elaine Goodale, a school teacher from Massachusetts. Together they operated a clinic in the community of Pine Ridge and were in many scenes throughout my novel.

When I reached the site where the massacre occurred, I couldn’t help but notice how big of an area the site encompassed. The creek itself surprised me. It wasn’t as deep or wide as I thought it would be and the banks leading to the water were fairly steep in some places. It looked serene and almost peaceful, but I thought, oh if those waters could talk.

I stood on a hilltop where I’m told a Catholic church had once stood and I gazed across the plateau below where the Lakota people were camped. I tried to picture the area where the soldiers were stationed, along with their Hotchkiss guns, which looked like small cannons to me. What went through the hearts and minds of the Lakota people?

I tried to imagine how the stomachs of Rose and those of her tribe were knotted with hunger, how cold they were as the icy wind swept over the land, how frightened they must have been as they were surrounded by soldiers with, Lord knows, what kind of nefarious intentions.

And I cried. I more than cried. I wept. I shed what felt like a gallon of tears for the injustice perpetrated against this tribe, for native people everywhere.

The military was confiscating the Lakota weapons, when gunfire ensued. Hundreds of women and children fell, wounded, dying, or dead. It’s been said they were simply caught in the crossfire.

And yet the body of a woman, who was shot in the back, was found by Dr. Eastman more than a mile from the site. Likely chased down and shot by 7th Cavalry. Eight or nine young schoolboys, who were returning to boarding school, were playing on a slope, nearby. They were no older than ten. They all were shot dead. An estimated 300 Lakota men, women and children were killed; compared to 31 Army soldiers, many who died from friendly fire.

After the massacre the bodies of the dead were buried in a mass grave at the top of a small hill. I added a scene where Rose and her brother visit the site to pay their respects. It wasn’t easy for her to return to the scene of such trauma, but in her mind, it was necessary.
 

The long rectangle shaped grave is now outlined with concrete and is surrounded by resting places of many other members of the Lakota tribe. A monument has been placed there, engraved with the names of many of the victims.

There are signs on the Pine Ridge Reservation offering directions to those who want to visit the site. If you’re ever passing through, I recommend a stop there. I know I will be forever changed by the time I spent traversing this hallowed ground.​​​