“Take you back?”
“I was borned a slave,” Dorman said.
“I wouldn’t have taken you back.”
“Someone tole me that you was in the Rebel army.”
“I was,” Falcon said. “My brother was in the Yankee army. But the thing is, neither one of us held with slavery.”
“Then how come you fought for the South?”
“There was a lot more to that war than slavery.”
“Not for me, there wan’t,” Dorman said.
“I can understand that.”
“My pap was a Jamaica man. My mammy was a slave woman down in Louisiana for the D’Orman family. When I got old enough—around fifteen or so, I reckon—I just up and run off. I kept on a-runnin’ and a-dodgin’, avoidin’ anyone I thought might be a slave catcher, till finally I wound up out here. Some Sioux found me wanderin’ around in the Paha Sapa, more dead than alive. They took me back to the village with them, fed me, and brought me back to life so to speak. You can understand why I made friends with them.” Dorman chuckled. “They didn’t quite know what to make of me. I was the first colored man any of them had ever seen. They called me ‘Black White Man.’” Dorman laughed. “Black White Man,” he repeated. “But I don’t reckon bein’ called a white man would have got me into any restaurants back where I come from. Anyhow, I married up with a Sioux woman, stayed with her till she up an’ died on me. Then, didn’t really feel like stayin’ with the Injuns any longer, so I left. I started carryin’ mail, choppin’ and sellin’ wood, until the gen’rul hired me to do some scoutin’ for him. Lots of folks don’t know this, Falcon, but them soldier boys only get thirteen dollars a month. Do you know how much money I get?”
“I don’t have any idea.”
I’m getting a hunnert dollars a month. Can you imagine that? A colored fella like me, gettin’ a hunnert dollars a month?”
“That’s a lot of money, all right,” Falcon agreed.
“Yes, sir, it is. ’Course, the question is, is it enough money to get myself kilt over?”
“Do you think that is likely?” Falcon asked.
“I don’t know,” Dorman answered. “If I didn’t tell you I was a site more fearful ’bout this particular scout than any other’n I been on, I’d be lyin’ to you.”
“What makes you fearful?”
“Even before we left Ft. Lincoln to come on this scout, I seen me a couple of Injuns that I know,” Dorman said. “They say there’s a feelin’ runnin’ amongst the Injuns that somethin’ big is goin’ to happen. It’s like Two Bears told me. They’re actually plannin’ to run all the white men out of Montana and Dakota territory. I don’t mind tellin’ you that I don’t feel none too particular good about this.”
“That’s funny,” Falcon said. “Libbie Custer has the same feeling.”
“When women has feelin’s like that, you ought to pay attention to ’em,” Dorman said. “Lots of times, women just knows more than men.”
“I wouldn’t want to argue with that,” Falcon said. He yawned. “But are we goin’ to talk all night, or get some sleep?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m going to get some sleep,” Dorman replied. “And if you answer me this time, you’ll be talkin’ to yourself.”
Both men slept well, and both were awake by sunrise the next morning. After a cold breakfast of jerky and water, they saddled up and got under way, riding as alertly as possible. As they approached each knoll, one of them would dismount and hand the reins of his horse to the other, then go up to the top of the knoll to have a look around before riding over it. They had been taking turns doing that all morning, and this time it was Dorman’s turn. Dismounting and giving his horse over to Falcon, the scout moved cautiously to the top. There, he got down on his stomach, took off his hat, and rose up to have a quick look over the crest.
Then, suddenly, Dorman spun around and, bending low, ran back to his horse.
“We’ve got to get out of here, now!” Dorman said. Leaping into the saddle, he turned his horse back down the trail and lashed it into a gallop.
Falcon followed without question, and the two horses raced toward a bluff that was some distance ahead of them. Not until they reached the bluff did they dismount and pull their horses in behind some trees.
“Tie ’em off and come up here and have a look,” Dorman said.
Falcon did as Dorman suggested, and no sooner did he reach the top than he saw what had Dorman spooked. There were scores upon scores of Indians, at least one hundred and maybe more. They were now where Falcon and Dorman had been but a few moments earlier, and as the Indians advanced down the side of the knoll, they were scattered out all across the valley, as if they were looking for something.
Suddenly, one of the Indians stopped and stared at the ground. Calling one of the other Indians over, he pointed to the ground, and a few others came over as well. For a moment, they appeared to be talking excitedly among themselves, though they were too far away from Falcon for him to hear.
“They’ve spotted our trail,” Falcon said.
“They have that all right,” Dorman replied. “And they are going to be on us like a fly on shit if we don’t get out of here.”
“Let’s go,” Falcon said, turning toward his horse.
