“There is a difference, though,” Falcon said. “They were all part of their established tribes, and it was during a time of war between the Indians and the white man. Mean to His Horses is a renegade, pure and simple.”
“That’s true,” Colonel Whitehead said. “There is another big difference.”
“What is that?”
“Roman Nose, Crazy Horse, Tall Bull are all dead. This son of a bitch is still alive.”
Benteen was a late arrival at the dance and when he arrived, Whitehead excused himself.
“I need to dance with my own wife or I’m going to hear about it,” he said.
“Mrs. Benteen isn’t here?” Falcon asked.
“At the moment, she is in St. Louis,” Benteen answered.
The two men sat in silence for a moment.
“Well?” Benteen said.
“Well?” Falcon replied, confused by the cryptic comment.
“Aren’t you going to join the chorus?”
“What chorus would that be?”
“The chorus that says I betrayed Custer, that if I had brought my battalion up quickly enough, I could have joined him and the outcome would have been different. ‘
“Major, you forget. I was with Reno that day,” Falcon said. “If you had not come to Reno’s aid, I might not be here today.”
Benteen was silent for a long moment. Finally he gave a relieved sigh and shook his head.
“I thank you for that, Colonel,” he said. “It is good to hear something from someone who was there, and who knows all the details and nuances. Sometimes I think I am going to be like Judas Iscariot—damned for all eternity because I betrayed Custer.
“I didn’t like the man, and I’ve made no excuses about that, but damn it, I did what I thought was best that day. Custer had the largest battalion, he had competent officers, I had no idea that he was in such dire circumstances. Reno was the most inexperienced officer in the entire regiment, and he had only half as many men with him as Custer had. Given the choice, I thought Reno and his men were in more danger than Custer.”
“You made the choice of a battlefield commander,” Falcon said. “There are very few men who have ever actually been in that position, which means there are very few who have the slightest idea of what it is like to make life-or-death decisions in the blink of an eye. And, as I told you, your decision to help Reno probably saved my life.”
“Poor Marcus,” Benteen said. “He has fallen on very hard times, you know. He was cashiered from the army for public drunkenness and lewd behavior, but I have heard from some of the officers who served with him that it was all a put-up deal.”
“Where is he now?” Falcon asked.
“He is in Washington, D.C., working as a very lowlevel clerk. He tried to get a book published about his role in the battle, but it was rejected. I uh,” Benteen cleared his throat. “I sent him some money a few months ago. I hated to embarrass him that way, but I knew that he was just barely hanging on.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Falcon said.
“Godfrey, Larned, Varnum, they have all abandoned him,” Benteen said.
At that moment, the current dance having ended, Colonel Whitehead returned to the table, breathless and sweating. “I tell you,” he said. “I don’t know how the ladies are able to dance every dance as they do. One dance is enough to wear me out. Fred, you must put your name on some of the dance cards, I’m sure the ladies would be happy to dance with you.”
“Thank you, Colonel, but I’ll defer to the younger offices and NCOs. Besides, as none of my men are here, I feel a little out of place.”
“Surely, Major, you aren’t suggesting that the dance be open to the colored soldiers?” Colonel Whitehead said.
“No, Colonel, not at all,” Reno replied. “I just made the comment that, as they cannot participate in the dance, I, as their commanding officer, feel that I should not be here as well.”
“Well, I think that is foolish. But, it is certainly your right to make such a decision. Oh, dear me, the sergeant major’s wife is headed straight for me with that look in her eyes. I guess I must dance with her.”
Colonel Whitehead excused himself and joined the sergeant major’s wife as the regimental band swung into the next tune.
“Did you hear about Tom Weir?” Reno asked.
“I know that he died,” Falcon said.
“You remember that he wanted to go help Custer, but got no farther than the very next hill. By the time he got there it was too late. It’s obvious now that Custer and all his men were already dead, and the Indians were coming hard toward Weir. He barely made it back in time.”
“Yes, I remember that.”
“Weir resigned his commission almost immediately after we got back to Fort Lincoln. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen. He went back to New York City. I got a letter from one of his friends there who said that he was afraid Tom was losing his mind. He wouldn’t eat, he wouldn’t leave his apartment. All he did was lay around
