May is Texas Writers Month, and judging by the prodigious output of the authors who either claim Texas as their state of residence or state of mind, 1998 is shaping up to be a banner year for Texas literature. New Texas history books abound, from Robert Dallek’s new LBJ bio, Flawed Giant, to El Llano Estacado, by John Miller Morris. We’ve got new Texas mysteries, including Neal Barrett’s Bad Eye Blues, Bill Crider’s Death By Accident, and Mary Willis Walker’s All the Dead Lie Down. We’ve got contemporary non-fiction, fiction, and a memoir or two, including Lunchbox Chronicles, the new one from NPR commentator Marion Winik (She calls it her "Erma Bombeck book.") There seems to be a little bit of everything for everybody, but there’s a haunting feeling that the best of ‘98 is yet to come. Cities of the Plain, the third novel in Cormac McCarthy’s border trilogy (preceded by All the Pretty Horses and The Crossing) is slated for publication May 18. Now that’ll be something to sink your teeth into. For those of you who just can’t wait for the latest from Texas’ greatest living novelist, you can read an excerpt of the new novel at the Borzoi Reader site. (And for more info on Cormac McCarthy’s classic Blood Meridian and the true events that inspired it, see A Weirder, Wilder Texas, the early November edition of Texana Ranger.

One good way to pass the time waiting for the new McCarthy book is to catch up on new non-fiction books about Texas history. One of my favorite scribes in that department, Charles M. Robinson III, has a new biography of Kiowa warrior Satanta (1815-1878), packed with enough action, tragedy, and historical insight to fill a whole series of novels. Robinson is the author of The Buffalo Hunters; Bad Hand: A Biography of Ranald S. McKenzie, and an upcoming book on the Texas Rangers. Satanta: The Life and Death of a War Chief is a fine work on a fascinating individual who, despite his bloody reputation as the leader of the infamous Warren wagon train massacre, was certainly a better man than many of his "civilized" enemies. Satanta’s people, the Kiowa, were a Plains tribe who, like the Comanches, had been transformed by their acquisition of the horse and the gun The Kiowa became, in effect, fierce, nomadic mounted cavalry units who raided and hunted their way across the Southwest, thwarting efforts to civilize the frontier for many years. As civilization inevitably encroached on the Kiowa, Satanta rose to the occasion with his talent for combat, leadership, and diplomacy. A skilled orator, Satanta’s eloquence caught the imagination of the Eastern press and helped draw attention to the tragedies being perpetrated on Native Americans by white men in the name of progress and civilization. "A long time ago this land belonged to our fathers; but when I go up to the river I see camps of soldiers on its banks. These soldiers cut down my timber; they kill my buffalo; and when I see that, my heart feels like bursting; I feel sorry ... Has the white man become a child that he should recklessly kill and not eat? When the red men slay game, they do so that they may live and not starve."

Satanta and other Kiowa leaders were sentenced to prison in Huntsville for their crimes, and Santana was later paroled by the controversial Reconstruction Governor Edmund J. Davis. But Davis’ Democratic successor, Richard Coke, sent Satanta back to prison. "I cannot wither and die like a dog," the proud Kiowa said. Shortly afterward, Santana committed suicide by jumping off a second story landing of the prison infirmary -- where he was being treated for a previous suicide attempt.

In 1963, more than a century after his death, Satanta’s legacy was so contentious that hard feelings rose when his descendants sought permission to move his remains from Huntsville to Fort Sill, Oklahoma. Representative James Cotton fought the legislation proposing the reburial, saying: "Satanta led numerous raids on the white settlements in Texas, including some in my district.

Satanta is a prime example of why our frontier past continues to haunt and invigorate Texas writing. With so many figures who were not only larger than life but whose eloquence and depth of emotion still rings true today, it’s no wonder we’re blessed with great stories, and talented Texas writers to tell them.

(5/1/98)

A slide show: The Great Plains Indian as Environmentalist

History of the Tenth Cavalry (captors of Satanta)

More wisdom from some of the great American Indian chiefs

Order Satanta: The Life and Death of a War Chief