“Seven,” Nowlan said to Falcon. “He has seven bullet wounds, but none of them are fatal.”
“Do you think he can survive?” Falcon asked.
“Yes, I think he can.”
“I think he can, too.”
“I know I would certainly like to give him a chance,” Nowlan said.
“Major Reno,” Falcon called. “Let us bring the horse back. I think he can survive.”
“For what purpose, MacCallister?” Reno replied, a little irritated by the request. “It’s going to be all we can do to get the wounded troopers back. We have no time nor room for a horse.”
“Major, think about it,” Nowlan said. “If we can save Comanche, he will be the living representative of what happened here.”
“Bring the horse back,” General Terry said, speaking before Reno could answer.
“Thank you, sir,” Nowlan said. He reached up and patted the horse on its face, then spoke soothingly into its ear. Comanche nodded his head, then followed Nowlan off the battlefield.
“Get them buried, and draw a map so we know where they are,” General Terry ordered.
As the burial detail went about its sad and grisly task, Falcon returned to the site of Reno’s Redoubt. There, he saw the men busily constructing litters for the wounded. Fifty-two men had been wounded in the two-day fight and there was but one doctor left alive to treat them. Dr. H.R. Porter was a civilian and Dr. De Wolf had remained with Reno’s battalion when Custer divided his command. Dr. De Wolf had been killed trying to climb the bank when the battalion retreated from its first position, leaving Porter alone to deal with the wounded.
“We have quite a few miles to cover,” Reno said. “I think we should construct travois. It would be faster and easier than having to carry them.”
“Have you ever ridden on a travois, Major?” Falcon asked.
“No, I haven’t. But I have certainly seen the Indians use them.”
“A travois is fine if you are going over smooth, level ground,” Falcon explained. “But if you are traveling over rough and rocky ground, like the ground we passed over on the way to this point—it can be a very rough ride. And for a wounded man, it can be extremely painful.”
“All right,” Reno said. “I see no need to subject these men to any further discomfort. We will use stretchers.”
Far West
After a long, slow, and difficult march, the remnants of the Seventh Cavalry, carrying their wounded on stretchers, finally reached the steamboat
Long grass had been pulled from the banks of the river and laid to a thickness of several inches on the deck of the boat. Heavy tarpaulins were spread over the grass to create one large mattress, and on that mattress, the wounded soldiers were carefully and gently laid in rows, leaving enough separation to allow Dr. Porter to move through them. Comanche was placed in the stern of the boat, and a couple of troopers were detailed to look after him.
As preparations were being made to get under way, Major Reno and Captain Benteen asked Falcon to come to Reno’s tent. Reno had already established himself as the new commander, having marked his tent with the regimental flag. He had also reissued sabers, and both he and Benteen were wearing them when Falcon answered the summons.
“Mr. MacCallister,” Reno began.
It did not escape Falcon’s notice that Reno had called him mister, instead of colonel.
“Captain Benteen and I have talked it over, and we think it would be better if you returned to Ft. Lincoln on the steamer.”
“You are in command, Major,” Falcon replied. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Because Falcon had agreed so readily, no further explanation was necessary, but Reno felt that it was.
“It’s just that—well, Custer always referred to you as a colonel, and while you are a lieutenant colonel in the Colorado Guard, you have no authority or military standing within the Seventh Cavalry,” Reno said.
“Nor have I ever assumed as much,” Falcon replied.
“I’m not saying you have,” Reno said. “But many of the men heard Custer referring to you as a colonel and they might not understand the nuances. We have been through a very difficult campaign. I cannot afford to have the troopers confused as to who is in command.”
“What the major is saying is, he feels his authority would be threatened by your presence,” Benteen said. “If you are on the boat, that won’t be a problem.”
“I understand,” Falcon said. “Of course, I will be more than pleased to return on the steamer.”
“And perhaps you could do something else for me,” Benteen said. He took an envelope from his pocket. “In going through the mail, I found this letter from General Custer to Mrs. Custer. It is going to be very difficult for her to receive this letter after her husband is already dead. You know her—perhaps it would be easier for her to get it from you.”
“Yes, I think it might be easier for her,” Falcon agreed. “That is very thoughtful of you, Captain.”
“I think it is well known that I did not like Custer,” Benteen said. “But I hold no animosity toward his widow.”
