Dorman smiled. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, he is. Hell, if we could get over these mountains, we could join back up with him.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
“How are we goin’ to go?” Dorman asked. “There is no pass here. There is no way the horses could make it over these mountains, even if they was both healthy, which they ain’t. Hell, my horse is barely standin’ as it is.”
“Yeah, I know,” Falcon replied. “But if our horses couldn’t make it, even they were healthy, then that means the Indians’ horses can’t make it either. And if we get a head start on them, we’ll have the advantage over them. We’ll go by shanks mare.”
“It’s goin’ to be one hell of a walk, Falcon, my friend, but I’m game if you are,” Dorman said. “But what do you mean head start? They aren’t more than three or four hundred yards behind us. That sure as hell ain’t much of a head start.”
“We’ll fire a few shots before we leave. The Indians don’t know our horses are wounded. If we leave the horses here, that might convince the Indians that we’re still here, just waitin’ under cover till we get a good shot, the way we did with Cut Nose.”
“Yeah,” Dorman agreed. “Yeah, your idea just might work at that.”
“Fire a couple of shots at them, and let’s go.”
Both Dorman and Falcon fired a couple of shots each. Then they moved through the back of the little copse of trees where they had taken their stand, rushed through the bushes, ran over pebbles and past rocks and boulders, until they started climbing. Below them, they heard the Indians firing at long range. Then they heard shouts and a furious fusillade of shots as the Indians made their final rush.
“Those are going to be some mad Injuns,” Dorman said, puffing with the exertion of climbing.
Falcon laughed. “Damn, Dorman, you mean they weren’t already mad?”
The two men climbed for the rest of the day, reaching the highest peak in the entire range. Once there, they looked back. From this vantage point, they could see for miles.
“Holy shit! Look at that!” Dorman said, pointing.
Falcon didn’t need it pointed out to him. He saw exactly what Dorman was pointing at. He could see hundreds, perhaps thousands of Indians. These weren’t the Indians who were chasing them; these were other Indians, not only warriors, but Indian ponies pulling lodge poles, accompanied by women and children, moving along several different trails, separated from each other, but all going in the same general direction.
“Have you ever seen that many Indians at one time?” Falcon asked.
“No, sir, I have not,” Dorman said. “Two Bears was right. These Injuns is comin’ from ever’where.”
“We have to tell Custer about this. I don’t think he has any idea what he’s letting himself in for.”
“You don’t really know the gen’rul all that well, do you?” Dorman asked.
“I haven’t known him very long. Why do you ask?”
“’Cause it ain’t goin’ to make no never mind what we tell him. He has his mind made up to go after the Injuns, and that’s exactly what he’s goin’ to do, no matter how many of ’em there is.”
“Well, we’ll just have to convince him,” Falcon said.
For the next three days, Falcon and Dorman climbed mountains, reaching the top of one, only to see another to be negotiated, and another after that. They had taken their canteens and what rations they could carry with them, but by the third day, they had neither food nor water left, and they were exhausted. To make matters worse, they saw no game at these elevations.
“We’re goin’ to have to stop here for a while,” Dorman said. “I don’t think I can go any farther.”
Dorman sat down, then pulled off his shoes and socks. His feet were covered with blisters.
“Look at that,” he said. He lay back. “You go on if you can,” he said. “I reckon I’m just goin’ to lay here till I die.”
“Isaiah, we’ve come this far,” Falcon said. “We can’t give up now. We don’t have any food, we don’t have any water, we’ve got to go on.”
“It’s comin’ on nightfall,” Dorman said. “I reckon if we’ll just spend the night here—maybe get a little rest, I’ll be ready to go on come mornin’.”
“All right,” Falcon agreed. “The truth is, I could use a little rest myself. We’ll spend the night here.”
They bivouacked under some overhanging rocks on the top of one of the highest peaks in the Bighorn range. During the night, the temperature fell very near to the freezing point. The conditions for Falcon and Dorman were miserable, because neither of them had anything more than the clothes on their back. A cold, heavy rain fell, whipped by a roaring wind that uprooted trees by the hundred. The two men spent a miserable, sleepless night.
On the morning of June 1, they found a trail that made walking a little easier than what they had been used to, so they were able to make better time on this day. Dorman estimated that they only had about twenty miles to go now, and because the trail was not as steep, it would not be as hard as the first part of their journey. However, as they were much weaker than they had been when they started the ordeal, they were not able to take as much advantage of the easier trail as they thought.
When they reached the bottom of this hill, though, they found a stream and they drank thirstily.
“Look there,” Falcon said, pointing to a large fish that was floating just under the surface. Falcon leaned over the bank, studied the fish for a moment, then stabbed his hand down into the water and flipped the fish up onto the bank. The fish began flopping around, trying to work its way back to the water, but Dorman was able to stop it.
