“Damn,” DeRudio said. “They got Benny.”
The Indians continued to ride up and down the bank of the river, but at that precise moment, Benteen arrived with his troops and they immediately joined into the battle, providing enough additional firepower to keep the Indians from crossing the river.
The warriors, frustrated because they were unable to cross the river, rode back and forth on this side, sometimes firing across at Reno’s troops, and sometimes just galloping up and down shouting and screaming. With the Indians keeping Reno, Benteen, and their men penned down, several Indian women began streaming out of the village. As they came across their own dead, and Falcon was surprise at how many of the Indians had been killed, they knelt beside them, screaming and crying.
Then, they turned their fury toward the dead soldiers, stripping them and mutilating them. They seemed to have a particular hatred for Dorman and they stripped him, bashed in his head, carved out his heart, and cut off his privates.
“I hope he was dead when they started in on him,” O’Neil said.
“He must have been,” DeRudio said. “He didn’t make a sound.”
“He wouldn’t have anyway,” Falcon said.
Falcon lay in the little ravine with the others for the rest of the day.
“What if they come after us?” O’Neil asked. “We sure can’t hold them off.”
“No, but if they do, we will kill as many of the heathen devils as we can,” DeRudio said.
“Find a couple more positions,” Falcon suggested. “If they come toward us, fire, then move, and fire, then move, and fire again. Maybe we can make them think there are more of us here.”
“Good idea,” DeRudio said. “Let’s look around, pick out second and third positions.”
The carefully conceived plan wasn’t needed, becaise darkness moved in and the river could no longer be seen.
“If we are ever going to get out of here, now is the time,” Falcon said.
“I agree, “DeRudio said.
It was slightly overcast, and the moon was but a thin crescent, so when they moved out of the thicket, they were able to use the darkness to cover their movement. They couldn’t see the river from there, but they were able to find their way easily by following the trail left by dead bodies: Indians, soldiers, and horses.
“DeRudio, there’s a party of Indians coming toward us,” Falcon whispered.
“Get down,” DeRudio ordered.
“No, wait,” Falcon said. “There are only eight of them, and if they do come toward us, we’ll have the advantage, because I don’t think they see us. Stop moving, pull your pistols, and wait.”
Following Falcon’s suggestion, the three men held their pistols at ready, but they weren’t needed. The Indians veered away before they reached them.
Once the Indians disappeared into the night, the three men continued their approach to the river.
“O’Neil, climb into the water,” DeRudio said. “See how deep it is.”
“Give me your hand and hang on to me as you go in,” Falcon said.
O’Neil got into the water, but it was neck deep there, and the current was so swift that it nearly swept the sergeant off his feet. Falcon pulled him out.
“It wasn’t this deep where we rode across,” DeRudio said. “We can’t cross here.”
“Wait,” O’Neil said. “Lieutenant, I’ve got to have a drink of water. My throat is so dry I’m dying.”
“Good idea,” DeRudio said, and he and O’Neil lay down to drink from the water. Falcon, who had a full canteen, drank from it, and kept watch while the others slaked their own thirst.
Moving downstream, they found a place where they could cross and, plunging into the water, they worked their way to the other side. But when they came ashore, they discovered they were on an island, and, in the dim glow of moonlight, saw that the other side was a high, steep bluff that would be impossible to climb.
“Now what?” DeRudio asked in frustration.
“We’re on an island,” Falcon said. “I think that means we’ll be safe for the night. Let’s wait until it lightens up enough to see what we are doing. And to let the troops see us,” he added. “I wouldn’t want to escape the Indians, only to be shot by our own men.”
“Good point,” DeRudio said.
The three men waited through the night. Then, in the lighter gray of predawn, they saw a body of men riding down the bank on the opposite side. They were in uniform and the one in front was wearing a buckskin jacket.
“That’s our men!” O’Neil shouted.
“Yes, that’s Tom Custer,” DeRudio said. “Tom!” he called. “Tom Custer! Over here!”
The riders stopped and looked toward O’Neil’s voice. Then, suddenly they all began shooting, the bullets frying the air and cutting through the bushes. They were Sioux, wearing uniforms they had stripped from dead soldiers.
Falcon knew, at that moment, that Tom Custer was dead, and the fact that some Indian was wearing his tunic probably meant that General Custer was dead as well, for he would never have abandoned his brother.
None of the bullets fired by the Indians hit either Falcon, O’Neil, or DeRudio, and fortunately, none of the Indians came into the water after them.
