move out. To Custer’s frustration, however, it was taking some time to get the pack train across the creek.
Custer kept the column waiting while he went back to check.
“McDougal, what is the problem here?”
“The mules won’t take to the water,” Boston said. Both Boston and Autie Reed were with the pack train.
“Colonel Keogh!” Custer called, using Keogh’s brevet rank. “Are you within the sound of my voice?”
“Aye, General,” Keogh called from the darkness.
“Get these mules across the creek.”
Keogh, astride Comanche, materialized from the dark. Swinging down from the saddle, he looked over at McDougal. “Come on, lad, if you, a Scotsman, and I, a son of Ireland, work together, I’m sure we’ll be to convince these recalcitrant English mules to cross a wee bit of a stream.”
It took an hour and a half to get the train across the stream; then the column resumed its march. It was so dark, however, that the only way they could maintain unit integrity was for the rearmost man in each troop to pound his cup against his saddle.
Falcon was riding with Benteen when Keogh came up beside him.
“I’ve not an idea in Sheol where we are, I can’t tell head nor tail from this miserable pack of mules that make up the train, and I can’t see two feet in front of my face.”
All the time Keogh was complaining about the mule train, the banging of the cups rang throughout the valley.
“I wouldn’t worry about the mules,” Benteen said. “Nothing but an Indian could run one of them off. One of the packs might slip off and be left behind, but we could always recover it in the morning when it’s light enough to see.”
At that moment, the banging of tin cups on the saddles stopped, and the column came to a halt. Then word was passed down from the front.
“Dismount, but don’t unsaddle. Rest in place.”
“Dismount, but don’t unsaddle. Rest in place.”
The command continued to be passed down the ranks, though with slight variations so that, by the time it reached the last troop, it was:
“Dismount, leave the saddles on. Rest where you are.”
Shortly after the column halted, Lieutenant Varnum rode back to find Falcon.
“Colonel MacCallister, it’ll be light soon. I wonder if you would like to ride out on a scout with me.”
“Only if you quit calling me colonel,” Falcon replied. “That makes it a little awkward, don’t you think?”
Varnum chuckled. “Yes, sir, I guess you are right.”
“And I’d be honored to go on a scout with you.”
“Here, you might need a little breakfast,” Keogh said, handing Falcon a couple of pieces of hard bread and a strip of dried meat. “The jerky is from the last elk we cooked,” he said.
“Thanks.
“Say, Captain Keogh, how about switching horses with me?” Falcon teased. “Mine is a little tired.”
“Colonel, m’lad, you can have Comanche when you pry his reins from my cold, dead hands.”
“So, is that a no?” Falcon asked. Those near enough to hear the banter between the two laughed.
Falcon and Varnum rode off on their scout. They had gone only about five miles ahead when Falcon called out. “Lieutenant, look ahead. Do you see the smoke?”
“Yes,” Varnum said. “That’s not just a few lodges, is it?”
“No, I think not,” Falcon replied. “The way the smoke is spread out, I’d say that village is three, maybe four miles from side to side.”
They started forward again when Falcon saw someone coming.
“There’s Bloody Knife,” he said.
“Good. I sent him, Mitch Bouyer, and Charley Reynolds out last night.”
Seeing Falcon and Varnum, the Crow scout rode toward them.
“What did you see?” Varnum asked.
“Many Sioux camped on Little Bighorn,” Bloody Knife said.
“Where are the others?”
“They wait, make sure Sioux not leave.” Bloody Knife twisted around and pointed to an escarpment. “From there, you can see camp.”
“Good, good. MacCallister, you can wait here with Bloody Knife and the others if you like. I’ll go back and get Custer.”
Falcon climbed to the top of the ridge, then looked out toward the Little Bighorn River, which was twisting in a series of U shapes as it ran through the broad valley. On the east, from which side Falcon was looking, the river ran alongside steep bluffs, ranging from eighty to one hundred feet high. On the opposite side of the river was a wide, flat plain. There, in the distance, Falcon saw something that looked like a low-lying brown carpet.
