Siege At Baker Ranch Poem by David Welch

I.
Myron Baker wasn't much of a man
for gunplay, whiskey, or ladies of the night.
He'd made his move out the western way
for space to live his life just as he liked.

He'd gotten himself a good spread of land
not too far south of the rolling Black Hills,
his pa said the land was thick with Injuns,
said soon enough he would probably be killed.

But young Myron could not afford much else,
and built a cabin quickly on the spot,
then came a corral, a herd of horses
that he planned to raise and sell from the lot.

After a year he brought out his young wife
she was Larissa, and she was his pearl,
and in her arms she bore green-eyed Meagan,
his precious and little one-year old girls.

His in-laws to came too Mary and Harold,
burned too many times by New York's business scene
they hoped to help out however they could,
and the west had long haunted Harold's dream.

Myron built a new room for the cabin
and then they all began settling in,
Myron taught Harold how to work horses
until the man wore a proud wrangler's grin.

Amongst waving grass and low-rolling buttes,
it seemed as if things were finally fixed,
but then in June some dark news would arrive,
the year being eighteen seventy-six…

Myron was rounding up several new colts
when a hurried blue-coat raced on in,
back to the ranch house Myron pushed his mount,
to see what ever was going on with him.

He found the man speaking low with Harold
out by the corral on that gray-light morn,
the works he spoke put a chill in Myron:
"Disaster up on the Little Bighorn! "

Custer's command had been killed to the last
the campaign, a shambles, advanced no more,
the Sioux and Cheyenne were now all aflame
war-bands set out to even up the score.

Even worse, the warrior Diving Bird
had been seen not far north with twenty braves,
Myron thanked the man for bringing the news,
as he rode off they frowned, fearing Sioux rage.

He asked Harold to got back to the house
and he went back out to drive in the herd,
the whole time his mind did nothing but echo
the young soldier's hurried and frightened words.

He'd never had much trouble with the Sioux
even traded horses with a few bands,
and he'd heard that some weren't playing it straight
when it came to the boundaries of their lands.

He knew they hated miners in the Black Hills,
and even sympathized more than a bit,
but he doubted in war they'd discriminate,
so he'd defend what was his, that was it.

II.
It was several days before trouble came,
the quiet seemed at odds with all the news,
the papers told of a nation enraged,
with loud cries for the Sioux to meet their doom.

Myron was out feeding hay to the horses
all bunched up in the corral and barn now
when the air was split by a piercing shriek,
'twas a war cry, much too close and too loud.

Myron quickly looked up from the pitchfork
saw a warrior charging with his lance,
before Myron even had time to think
he cast the pitchfork hard out of his hands.

It struck hard against the surprised warrior,
broke his sternum, and threw him from the horse,
gunshots broke out, Myron looked up a saw
a circling band of two dozen more!

He broke into a run for the cabin,
nearby his father-in-law did the same,
a shot struck Harold right deep in his thigh,
Harold scream out and limped for the door, lame.

Myron grabbed him, jerked him quickly inside,
Mary and Larissa closed the shutters,
then opened gun-ports he'd cut in the wall,
as the sound of pounding horses unnerved.

Myron broke out all of his firearms,
two Winchesters, a Sharps, and scatter-gun,
along with a pistol for him and Harold,
with ammo for each and every one.

Outside the war-cries just grew ever closer
waves of bullets struck the cabin in turn,
said Myron, "We can't let them get too close
or this whole house they are likely to burn! "

And so the knelt setting about their task
Larissa let loose with the shot-gun fast,
a horse screamed in pain and all heard the sound
of a heavy body falling to Earth.

Then Myron and Harold pumped out quick shots
with their rifles at any who did pass,
the first shots were slow, and failed to hit home,
and they both learned to lead their foes, fast.

They heard a shout, and then came another,
two more warriors shot off of their mounts,
then the sound of hooves faded just a bit,
and they returned to their circling around.

Myron saw through the slot when they fell back
and spotted one with an eagle head-dress,
Crazy Horse's lieutenant, the Diving Bird,
who'd left the messenger in such duress.

He sat aloft on a painted pony,
directing men with a sweep of his hand,
a proud and fierce-looking warrior soul,
determined to fight hard for his land.

But Myron had sweat for his patch of dirt
he wasn't the sort that could accept retreat,
if he had to kill Diving Bird himself
he'd do so before admitting defeat.

III.
It was near midnight when they came again,
four warriors armed all with flaming brands,
Myron bolted up from a fitful sleep,
and poured out bullets as the horses ran.

He managed to shoot one off of his horse,
but the trio screamed and charged in once more,
Harold said"They're fools to keep charging in! "
But Myron though hard, and wasn't so sure.

He called for all to cease firing
and listened close as if searching for proof,
then he heard soft thumps coming from above,
one of them had gotten up on the roof!

The charging men had been a distraction,
and Myron grabbed the shot-gun in a hurry,
fearing that they would set the roof aflame,
he opened fire with a hot fury.

A hole was blasted where he shot the brave,
the dead man rolled off and struck hard on the ground,
the charging warriors roared in anger,
so Harold shot another one of them down.

The survivors fled back towards their camp,
but no withdrawal did the Sioux men beat,
instead they took turns sniping at their foes,
to deny Myron and his family sleep.

Come Morning Myron looked out and saw perched high
sixteen warriors atop their steads,
with lances and rifles and tomahawks
preparing for the morning's bloody deeds.

But what chilled Myron's soul more than anything
was the small tree trunk that two riders held
by the branches, to batter down the door,
and visit upon them a living hell.

The others let loose a barrage of shots,
to try and suppress Myron waiting within,
he fired endlessly took down two more,
then leapt back as the riders bore down on him.

The battering tree smashed right through the door,
a slew of war-cries went up, loud and piercing
the shot-gun blasted, two more warriors fell,
the noise left all their heads and ears ringing.

Harold went down from a shot to the chest,
the doorway was a commotions of words,
but standing there clutching his aching head
was the muscled form of Diving Bird.

Myron leapt forwards and drew his pistol,
then jammed it straight into Diving Bird's ear,
Roared, "If you value your War-chief's life,
you will all stop, and ride straight out of here! "

The Indians outside froze when they saw them,
none understood the words that he did say
except for an old man, missing an eye,
who spurred forwards to attempt a parlay.

IV.
Myron's jaw clenched as he eyed the old brave,
who stood quiet and took in the whole scene
glared intensely at Myron where he stood,
said, "Well then white man, what do you mean? "

Myron just stared iron back at the man,
said"Leave my home and do not ever come back.
I'll set him free when you're all out of site,
and on foot he will have to make tracks."

The brave was still, and then asked of Myron,
"How can we know that your word will be good?
Your kind once promised us our sacred hills,
now they scar the slopes, and chop all the wood."

Myron angrily shook his head and declared,
"It's with the soldiers that you need to fight!
I can make no rules, I give no decrees,
have scant power for the wrong or the right!

"I only fight here for the things I have built;
for my family, my land, and my home.
I do not much care for government words
like you I am just protecting my own."

This brought a glint to the man's tired eye,
it was an impulse that every man knows,
he motioned the braves to follow him out,
one-by-one the proud warriors rode.

And Myron was just as good as his word,
he let Diving Bird walk away on two feet,
he thought he detected a look of respect,
but maybe he saw what he wanted to see.

Myron was left nearly broken by this,
they had taken every horse that they found,
worse still were the tears from the womenfolk
when he put poor Harold into the ground.

And though the war would rage for one more year,
and on both sides cruelty got its fill,
for Myron the war had taken its toll,
he could only struggle on and rebuild.

The fight would continue to its sad end,
filled with terrors that make good people blanche,
but the Sioux kept their word, and never again
did they show face on the Baker Ranch.