supposed to draw rations from the agency here. Military equipment, ammunition, and the like are to be requisitioned from Fort Robinson and hauled by civilian contractors. Which in practical terms means that we are expected to be self-sufficient apart from foodstuffs. Fortunately I do have some limited authority to make purchases on the local market, which would be in Deadwood.”
Longarm was struck by the fact that the officer seemed more conscious of his command’s shortcomings regarding supply than he did about his military mission here. But then Longarm remembered that Wingate did say his expertise lay in the area of supply. Logistics, Wingate called it; plain old boring supply was what it actually was.
“If I remember correctly, that tall lodge with the red and black buffalo design is Tall Man’s,” Longarm said.
“Is it? I don’t recall.”
You damn well should, Longarm grumbled silently to himself. In case you have to lead a charge against these people. Then it’ll be too late to wonder where you should focus your attack.
But that was none of his business, really. And apparently was well beyond L. Thompson Wingate’s command abilities too.
“Let’s go see what Tall Man has to say. Then we’ll ride on up the line an’ meet Cloud Talker next.” Longarm bumped his horse forward, and the supply officer—who seemed just about as completely out of his element here as a hog in a whorehouse—followed meekly along.
Tall Man grasped Longarm firmly by the upper arms in what was, for him, a warm embrace of welcome. “It has been too long, Longarm. You are well?”
“Yes. And you?”
“Two children since last we talked, but both girls.” He made a face, then brightened and shrugged. “Next year a boy. I am sure of it.”
“Yellow Flowers is carrying another child?” Longarm asked.
This time Tall Man grinned and puffed out his chest. “Not her, my friend. Yellow Flowers is a good woman and pretty, but she only gives me daughters. Now I have Yellow Flowers to prepare my food and keep my lodge but a new wife to make my sons.” His grin got bigger. “Fourteen years old, this wife, and a belly soft as mouse fur. Big belly now.” He laughed and held his hands in front of his own lean stomach as if cradling a cannonball. Or a kid. “A son. Yellow Flowers says so too.”
“I’m happy for you, Tall Man. You should be proud.”
“Yes, very.”
“So tell me, Tall Man. What is the trouble here that you would ask for me to come? You know I am always happy to visit with my friends the Crow, but it saddens me to think there may be a problem.”
Tall Man looked at Wingate, then took Longarm by the elbow and pointedly turned his back on the officer, leading Longarm away in the direction of the grazing horse herd.
After a few paces he whistled to attract the attention of a boy of ten or eleven, then spoke rapidly in his own tongue. The boy nodded and raced away.
“Yellow Flowers will prepare a meal for our guests. It will be ready soon.”
“You honor me.”
“It is my pleasure to honor a friend who would come far without knowing why he comes.”
“When you wish to tell me. Longarm suggested.
“Yes.” They paced along in silence for several minutes, hiking up a hillside that overlooked the camp in one direction and the pastured horses in another.
“We are few,” Tall Man said eventually.
“Yes.”
“Outnumbered by the Piegan five, six to one.”
“Yes.” It was an exaggeration, of course. But what the hell.
“If we were many … ah, well. Those days are past. Sickness has taken many of our people away. Others have gone to live as if white, wearing shoes and trousers and working for wages in the far cities.”
“Many?” Longarm asked.
“Too many. Our young people have become lazy. They do not want to rise up and fight the Piegan. Those of us who would fight are too few. And so we ask our friends to come and to speak for us against the lies of people who are not of our people.”
“Lies, Tall Man? What lies?”
“These Piegan, you know how they lie.” Longarm nodded solemnly. It was true. The Piegan did lie.
Damn near as much as the Crow.
“This time they say the Crow are murderers. They want to see a Crow hanged from a tree like a prairie chicken hung in the bush to age. They say if they do not have justice, they will break the pipe of friendship we gave to them when first we came here. They will break the pipe and they will kill all our people, even our children, and they will kill whatever of our women they do not want to use as their whores and their wood cutters.”
“I see.” Longarm handed Tall Man a cheroot, then struck a match to light his own smoke and Tall Man’s.
“If they come, we will fight, Longarm. We will die, but we will fight. They will kill us all, but the Piegan will know that the Crow are warriors still.”
“They would know,” Longarm agreed.
