finish his warning, a large-caliber bullet took off the back of his head, sending out a shower of blood, brains, and bone. Some of the detritus hit Trevathan in the face, and his eyes grew wide in shock as he wiped his face, then looked at his hand and realized what he was seeing.
“Remount,” Trevathan yelled, his voice edged with panic. “We must retreat!”
“No, we need to attack!” Matt shouted.
Trevathan remounted, then swung his mount around. “Retreat!” he ordered, spurring his horse into a gallop even as he gave the order.
As the men watched in shock and alarm the panicked action of their commander, Trevathan was hit in the back by an arrow. He fell from his saddle, but his foot hung up in the stirrup and the panic-stricken horse galloped at full speed up the creek bed, dragging Trevathan behind it. Trevathan’s head slammed against a big rock opening up a huge, gaping hole that left a trail of blood.
“Mount up!” Matt shouted to the soldiers, most of whom were staring at the scene of their commander being dragged through their midst.
“Bristol! Manning! Get your men in the saddle!” Matt said. “We need to attack now!”
“Mount up!” Lieutenants Bristol and Manning shouted, and the troopers, goaded into action, finally reacted.
“Column of twos, forward!” Matt shouted.
Mounted now, the cavalrymen felt a renewed sense of confidence in their leadership as they galloped out of the kill zone.
“Lieutenant Bristol!” Matt shouted.
“Yes, sir!” Bristol responded. Like the enlisted men, both Bristol and Manning had bowed to Matt’s authority.
“The Indians are on both sides of us. You go left, I’ll go right!”
“Yes, sir!” Bristol replied.
The galloping troopers split into two different directions. Very quickly, they came upon the Indians. The troopers had the advantage of superior numbers and mobility, and their surprise counterattack routed the Indians. Some were able to mount and ride away, but most of the others were on foot, and they ran from the attacking troopers, disappearing into the gullies and crevices that traversed the area.
“Company, halt!” Matt ordered, and the troopers, including the two lieutenants, responded to his command without question.
By now, nearly all the Indians had managed to escape. Then Matt saw one of them at some distance. The Indian was sitting on his horse, staring back at the cavalrymen without the slightest indication of fear.
“Trooper Jones, you know a lot of the Indians who left the reservation. Is that Geronimo?”
“No, sir,” Jones said. “That particular Indian goes by the name of Delshay.”
“Delshay?”
“Yes, sir. He isn’t nearly as old as Geronimo, but he’s damn near as smart.”
For a long moment, Matt and Delshay continued to stare at each other. Finally, Delshay turned and rode away, his leisurely movement giving evidence of his disdain for the army troops who had been in pursuit.
“Lieutenant Bristol?” Matt said.
“Yes, sir?”
“It is your command, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Bristol, now being the senior officer present, took command and the company, with twelve killed, including Captain Trevathan and Sergeant Emerson, returned to Fort Bowie. Nine of the returning cavalrymen were wounded, a couple of the wounds severe enough that the soldiers had constructed travois to bring the men back. The bodies of the dead were brought back, draped over their horses. Six horses had been so badly wounded that they had to be destroyed, and that required doubling up some of the bodies on the remaining horses.
Colonel McKenzie met the dispirited company as they rode through the gate.
“Where is Captain Trevathan?” McKenzie asked Matt.
“Belly down on one of the horses,” Matt replied.
“Lieutenant Bristol!” McKenzie called.
“Yes, sir?”
“I want you, Manning, Jensen, and the senior NCOs at headquarters as soon as you dismiss the men.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lieutenant Bristol gave the report, mercifully not condemning Trevathan for his mistakes.
“Mr. Jensen, you are the senior scout,” McKenzie said. “It was your responsibility to keep Trevathan from riding into an ambush.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” Bristol said. “But if it hadn’t been for Mr. Jensen, our losses would have been much higher.”
“Yes, sir,” one of the NCOs said. “Mr. Jensen, he saved our lives, is what he done.”
Matt Jensen tendered his resignation that very day. Two days later, he was on a train heading back up to
