“The Colorado Home Guard is missing one hundred rifles. It looks like we just found a few of them.”
“You mean, in addition to the Gatling guns we’re lookin’ for, there’s also a bunch of repeating rifles out there?”
“Yeah.”
“That ain’t good.”
“No, it’s not good at all,” Falcon said. “Come on, help me pick up the others.” Falcon put that rifle aside and for the next minute or so, they wandered through the dead Indians, retrieving rifles.
“Damn,” Dorman said as he stood over one of the bodies. “This here is Running Bear.”
“You knew him, did you?”
“Yeah, I knew the son of a bitch. This here is Cut Nose’s brother.”
“I take it you weren’t friends.”
“No, I don’t think you could rightly call us friends. Cut Nose sure set a big store by him, though, seein’ as how he mostly raised him after their pappy was killed. He ain’t goin’ to take too kindly to your killin’ ’im.”
Falcon chuckled. “Now tell me, Mr. Dorman, do you really think Cut Nose was ready to be friends with me before I killed his brother?”
Dorman laughed out loud. “Now that you mention it, I don’t reckon you killin’ his brother is goin’ to make matters any worse.”
“What do you say we get these rifles back to Custer?”
The encampment was temporary only, because the three hundred Indians were on their way to join with others during a time the Sioux called the Moon of Making Fat, at a place called Greasy Grass. Even though it was a temporary settlement, the band of Indians who were following Cut Nose were experienced nomads and they knew how to set up a camp quickly and efficiently.
The nearly one hundred teepees were arranged in concentric circles with each teepee in a precise position within those circles. As far as the occupants of the village were concerned, it didn’t matter whether they were going to be in position for one night or thirty nights; they carried on as if every location was permanent. The position wasn’t decided by hierarchy, but by precedence, the exact positioning allowing for friends and relatives to be able to locate each other.
The women were busy carving meat into very thin slices and hanging them up to dry, the children were playing games, the old men were sitting in little groups telling stories of old battles and ancient hunts, and the young men were cleaning recently cured game.
Cut Nose was aware of the fact that a large group of soldiers had left various military posts to take to the field, and earlier in the day, he had sent out a dozen warriors to see where they were and if they represented any danger to his band. He was shocked when he saw that only five of the twelve warriors returned. He was dismayed when he saw that one of those who did not return was his brother, Running Bear.
“Where is my brother? Where are the others?” Cut Nose asked.
“Running Bear is dead. The others are dead,” One Hawk replied.
“The Long Knives? Did you see the Long Knives?”
“No, we did not see the soldiers. We saw only two. Black White Man and Tall Warrior.”
“Only two, but seven are killed? Did you kill the two?”
“No, Cut Nose.”
“Did you kill one of the two?”
“No, we did not kill one of the two.”
“Ayieee! Seven were killed but not one of the enemy?”
“Cut Nose, never have I seen men fight with such fierceness and bravery,” One Hawk said.
“I did not know that Black White Man was a warrior of such skill.”
“It was not Black White Man. It was Tall Warrior who fought with such skill. It was Tall Warrior who killed Running Bear.”
“Who is this Tall Warrior? I do not know him,” Cut Nose said.
“No one has seen him before. We gave him the name because he is very tall and very ferocious. I believe he was born in thunder. That is why we do not know him.”
“I will know him,” Cut Nose said. Cut Nose pulled his knive, then sliced through one side of his nostril. The cut started bleeding immediately, and profusely. “This wound is my brother, Running Bear,” Cut Nose said. “I will keep this wound fresh, until I have killed the one who killed my brother.”
“Cut Nose, Crazy Horse comes!” someone called.
Cut nose dismissed One Hawk, then walked out to greet Crazy Horse.
As a young man, Crazy Horse had a vivid dream of a rider in a storm on horseback who wore his hair long and unbraided and had set a small stone in his ear. The warrior also had a yellow lightning bolt symbol on his cheek, and several small red dots of hail decorating his body.
In Crazy Horse’s dream, many tried to claim coups on the warrior, but nobody could touch him. People clutched at the rider, but could not hold him. After the storm, a red-backed hawk flew over the rider’s head.
