Medicine Water and his men came upon them--John German, his wife, son, and six daughters, headed toward Colorado along the Smokey Hill Road. The warriors struck in the early morning, catching them completely by surprise. The son, Stephen, made a run for a nearby ridge as the warriors came in, to make a stand there.
Catherine, 17, was hit by an arrow in the thigh. One of Medicine Water's men grabbed her, yanked out the arrow, kicked her several times to quiet her, and threw her on his horse.
One of the warriors shot down John German, and another crushed his wife's skull with a tomahawk as she ran to his assistance. German was not dead; Buffalo Calf Woman finished him off by bashing his head in with a tomahawk. Then the eldest daughter, Rebecca, jumped from the wagon and attacked a warrior with an axe. She was disarmed and knocked unconscious. Several of the men raped her, after which she was killed. Joanna, the next eldest, was killed, then scalped. Stephen, killed by the ridge, was also scalped.
The youngest girl, Adelaide, began to cry and a warrior aimed a gun at her. But Stone Calf's niece threw herself in front of the child, saving her life, and claimed the two children as her own. The younger teen-agers, Catherine and Sophia, were "married" into the Cheyennes but repeatedly "taken on the Praire" - i.e., gang-raped. Ref. Meredith, Grace E., "Girl Captives of the Cheyennes." Los Angeles: Gem Publishing, 1927.
With horrified eyes, Rebecca and Joanna German watched the drama unfold outside the wagon. Their mother was dead already; their father, in spite of the two arrows protruding from his shirt, was trying to get to his feet. The Cheyenne woman didn't give him a chance. Rushing up, she raised a stone hammer high over her head and brought it down violently on his, burying it in his skull and spattering his brains.
Rebecca couldn't stand it any longer. She grabbed an axe from the wagon, and, her long auburn hair flowing behind her, jumped out and swung it savagely at one of the warriors. It connected, and the man went down, but she didn't get an opportunity for a second swing. Another Indian grabbed the axe, twisted it from her hand, and banged the handle into the back of her head. She crumpled immediately, and, with a shriek, Joanna rushed out toward her. A Cheyenne saw her coming, whirled around, and fired an arrow at her; it struck just under the younger girl's ribs, on the right, and sank deeply into her. Blood staining her gingham dress, she groaned and fell beside her sister.
Yelling and laughing, the Indians gathered around the two fallen women and began tearing at their clothes. In seconds both had been stripped, and the arrow that had ripped into Joanna had been pulled free. Leaving her squirming on the ground with blood draining from her wound, they turned their attention to Rebecca, who was just beginning to regain consciousness.
Four warriors surrounded her immediately; each one of them grabbed a wrist or an ankle, spread-eagling her on the hard prairie. Her eyes widened as a fifth man stripped away his loincloth and knelt between her legs; already his erection was growing.
She struggled briefly, but as he pushed himself inside her she relaxed, apparently realizing that it would not help. Her head bouncing with the Cheyenne's thrusts, she looked up at her terrified younger sister Sophia, who was being held by another warrior nearby. "Don't fight them," she panted. "Maybe they'll take us captive, let us live! As long as there's life, there's hope!" Tearfully, Sophia nodded agreement. "And if they do kill us," Rebecca went on, "then show them we can die with courage too!"
"Rebecca, I can't!" the younger girl wailed.
"You may have to," her sister advised grimly.
By that time, the warrior raping her had finished; immediately, another took his place. Six of them raped her, one after the other, leaving her limp on the ground with semen running from her vagina. With scarcely an interruption, Rebecca kept encouraging her sisters to survive, by whatever means necessary.
When the sixth man finished and rose to his feet, one of her previous attackers knelt beside her. He didn't remove his loincloth; instead, he grinned broadly and drew his knife from his belt. He waved it over her body, bringing it close to her face, making sure she saw it.
Rebecca closed her eyes briefly. "They are going to kill me," she said flatly. "I guess because I attacked them. But you and the others--"
"Rebecca, no!" Sophia screeched.
"I can't stop them, there's nothing I can do about it! All I can do is show them we're just like them, that we're not afraid to die! And all you can do it try to live, and if you can't, do the same thing!" Looking up at the knife-wielder, she fixed his dark eyes with her blue ones, as if daring him to do it.
He laughed at her challenge; the other Indians urged him on, and he brought his knife down slowly until the point was touching Rebecca's right breast, a bit above and inside the nipple. She glanced at it but her expression didn't change, even when he pressed down rather hard with it.
Laughing again and nodding at her show of courage, he suddenly ripped downward with the blade, tearing a shallow groove in her breast down alongside the nipple. Blood welled up and out in a quick rush. Sophia screamed; Rebecca gasped and her eyes went wide but she herself made no other sound.
Again nodding approval, the Indian put the point of the knife back into the cut he'd already made and began pushing down on it, harder than before. Her body went rigid; the resistance of the skin gone, the blade started sinking smoothly on down into her breast. Sophia's shrieks were ignored; Rebecca, stoic but gasping, maintained eye contact with the warrior while he buried his knife in her chest.
For an instant he kept it there while the girl squirmed on the ground, her arms and legs tight against the hands that were restraining them. "Get on with it," she snarled, frothy blood appearing on her lips as she spoke.
The Cheyenne didn't understand; he pulled his blade out of Rebecca's chest and watched her blood spout for a few seconds. She thrashed her head from side to side, fought for breath. The Indian studied her strained face for a moment, then, with a nod, started working his knife into her belly, grinding it deep and twisting it viciously. More blood boiled up and out; Rebecca groaned again, bit her lip hard to keep from shrieking. The full length of the blade was imbedded in her stomach, and the Cheyenne kept twisting and cutting until finally her body relaxed. She moaned once, and her breath went out for the last time.
As the man who'd killed Rebecca began to scalp her, several others turned their attention to Joanna, who'd managed to draw herself up to a kneeling position and who had watched the killing of her sister from a few yards away. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched the wound in her side; blood still ran over and between her fingers.
Two of the Cheyennes went to her; one pulled her hand away from the wound and examined it. Looking up at the other, he shook his head, and the second warrior answered in words unintelligible to the girl, who kept moving her frightened eyes between the two of them. She looked very small, very young and fragile, her breasts high and still developing, her pubic hair very sparse, her skin quite white, contrasting strongly with her thick dark hair.
And her terror obviously increased when the warrior who'd examined her wound drew his knife and knelt down beside her. "No," she said, forcing her voice to be calm. "No, don't kill me."
The Indian looked at her eyes for a moment, then slipped his left arm under hers, held her shoulders, and pulled her up to her feet. Groaning and wincing from the pain, she clutched at his shoulder as she struggled to stand. The Cheyenne watched her fight for balance for a few seconds, then shook his head again and, without warning, stabbed his knife into her right side, driving it between her ribs.
"AH!" she screamed, taken by surprise. "Ah, oh, God, oh God! Oh, please, please, no, no...!"
With an expressionless face, the Indian jerked his knife out and pulled her around so that her back was pressed again his body. His knife flashed downward again, burying itself in her stomach; she shuddered violently, then grabbed his wrist with both her hands. The knife was still imbedded in her body, and her efforts prevented him from withdrawing it for a moment; at last he jerked on it, and as it came free it tore her flesh terribly. She made a gurgling, choking sound as blood poured from her, splashing on the ground.
"Oh, please," she moaned, softly this time. "Please no, no more, please, please...!" The Indian ignored her and stabbed her several more times, piercing her abdomen and both of her breasts. Blood gushed, coating her body; she struggled futilely as his knife bit into her body yet again.
Pushing her back to her knees, the warrior wound her hair up in his fingers and started cutting into her forehead. She moaned once more, then relaxed in his grip. Before he'd finished taking her scalp, she was dead.