“All right,” Reno replied. Then, standing in his stirrups, he gave a hand signal indicating his battalion should cross the creek. At this point, the water was easily forded and the hooves of so many horses kept a sustained splash of bubbles sparkling in the sunlight, until finally all were across.
The regiment, minus Benteen’s battalion, now proceeded down the creek, with Reno on one side and Custer on the other.
“I hope we ain’t goin’ to need the pack train,” Dorman said, twisting around in his saddle. Falcon also tried to look behind him, but the pack mules were so far back that they couldn’t be seen.
They continued on for about three more miles, then came to a fork where the creek they were following joined the Little Bighorn. Here, Reno led his battalion back across the creek so that the two columns were joined. They saw a lone teepee, inside of which was a dead warrior, ceremonially laid out with his life possessions to include a bow and arrows and a shield.
“I’ve got the bow!” Boston said excitedly, coming out of the teepee and holding to bow over his head.
“The shield is mine!” Autie Reed claimed, displaying it with enthusiasm equal to Boston’s.
“Burn the teepee,” Custer ordered, and a couple of troopers set fire to it.
They heard a yell from the top of the hill that was just north of the teepee. It was Fred Gerard, waving his hat and shouting.
“Here are your Indians, General, running like devils!” Gerard called.
Some distance ahead, Falcon saw what Gerard was talking about. A party of warriors were galloping at full speed toward the river.
“We haven’t come this far to let them get away!” Custer said. “Reno, take the scouts with you and push ahead at a trot!”
“Scouts!” Reno shouted, and Falcon joined Varnum, Dorman, and the other scouts as they moved out ahead of the column at a brisk trot.
Falcon could tell by the gait of his mount that the horse was on the verge of physical collapse. Man and animal had been pushed hard for over a month now, long hard days, short, often sleepless nights, and with little food or forage.
But the horse gave Falcon all it had, and for that, Falcon was grateful. To Falcon’s right front, he could see a huge cloud of dust boiling up from behind the high bluffs that hid the Little Bighorn Valley.
When they reached Medicine Tail Coulee, which led down to the river at the central ford, Reno halted, and they looked across the creek.
“Major,” Falcon said, pointing. Here, for the very first time, they could see the village clearly. It was large—so large they it was impossible to see just how large it was because the other end of the village just disappeared in the distance.
“Damn,” Reno said.
“When’s the last time you seen somethin’ that big, Falcon?” Dorman asked.
“Last time I was in New York,” Falcon replied. He was exaggerating, and he knew that Dorman knew he was exaggerating, but even in the exaggeration, there was some truth.
Custer and Cooke came riding up quickly.
“What do you see?” Custer asked.
Falcon pointed to the village across the river. This time, Custer needed no binoculars. He could see the village quite clearly.
Custer took off his hat and waved it over his head as his horse, Vic, made a couple of high-stepping circles.
“We’ve got them this time! We’ve got, ’em boys!”
When the rest of the regiment rode up, Custer held up his hand to halt them.
“Trumpter Martin!” he called.
The Italian trooper rode quickly to the general.
“Orderly, I want you to take a message to Colonel Benteen. Ride as fast as you can and tell him to hurry. Tell him it is a big village and I want him to be quick and to bring the ammunition packs.”
“Yes, sir,” Martin replied.
“Orderly, wait!” Cooke, the adjutant, called. “I’ll give you a written message.”
Cooke wrote something on a page from a small book; then he tore the page out and handed it to Martin.
“Now, Orderly, ride as fast as you can to Colonel Benteen. Take the same trail we came down. If you have time, and there is no danger, come back, but otherwise, stay with your company.”
“Yes, sir!” Martin shouted and, taking the message, he whirled his horse about and started galloping back along the column.*
“Major Reno, I want you to cross the river here and attack the south end of the village. I will support you,” said Custer.
“Yes, sir,” Reno replied.
“Colonel MacCallister!” Custer called. “You come with me.”
Falcon, who had been riding with Dorman and Reno, left Reno’s battalion and joined Custer. Just as he joined, Boston and Autie Reed came riding up. Tom Custer was sitting his horse, very close to his brother. He frowned
