sight of your soldiers would do to our villages.”
“You
Custer and Moylan mounted and were led by the Cheyenne chief to a campsite three-quarters of a mile above the villages. Only then did the warriors drift away from the timber, resigned that there would be no fight this day.
As his troops pitched their camp along the Sweetwater, Custer had a chance to really study the faces of his haggard soldiers. Skin sagged beneath sunken cheeks. Eyes without brightness peered back at him as he rode through their ranks. Smudge from countless fires caked their faces. Teeth stood out as if all were grinning skulls. He began to realize to what extent the long and hard winter had exacted its toll on his men. No soldier had come this far unscathed. They had had more than five months of freezing, too little to eat, and still had untold miles yet to go.
Something deep within Custer tugged, unlike anything he had felt since the days of the Shenandoah. A warm knot of sentiment rose in his throat as he gazed at these young soldiers—his Seventh Cavalry. While they grumbled and complained as soldiers always had from the time of Alexander and Caesar, still these boys in blue had followed. Wherever Custer led, soldiers followed. Talk around the campfires had it that glory awaited Custer at every turn. Honor would surely come to every soldier who followed in Custer’s wake.
“Monaseetah.” Custer showed her a stump to sit on. Moylan had brought her from one of Lieutenant Bell’s ambulances. Custer signed for her, “I need your help freeing the girls. I think they’re in these camps.”
“I will help.” She removed the infant from the folds of blanket at her back, rocking him in her arms.
“We have found the village of Rock Forehead. He is the one your people call—”
“Medicine Arrow. A wild and wicked man. Black Kettle did not respect his counsel. Said he had too much power—power he gained through fear.”
“Fear can be a great ruler, Monaseetah. It controls as few things do.”
“An evil man. There are stories he has killed men with his curses.”
“Romero said the same thing. Don’t tell me you believe those stories too!”
“Yes,
“He’s an old man! Flesh and blood—like me! Old dogs like him have worn teeth. I’m more worried about his young warriors—they have the sharp teeth.”
She hid her face.
“Monaseetah? Is this old man so evil that he will hold the white girls in his village, while saying he knows nothing of them?”
Monaseetah’s eyes darted this way and that, like the sudden flight of frightened hummingbirds. “Yes,” she whispered.
“You are afraid of something?”
“Yes.”
“Of Medicine Arrow.”
“Not afraid of him. Afraid of something I cannot see. The evil he can do. If it were something I could see, I would use my knife to kill it. We can fight what we can see. It is only what I cannot see or touch …”
“There is no evil here,” he soothed, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “You are safe with us here. No man can hurt you.”
Her head sank against his shoulder. For a long time they sat staring into the flames before Custer spoke.
“Are the two white girls in Medicine Arrow’s village?”
“They are here, Yellow Hair. I will help you free them from the evil one whose curses kill his enemies.”
Custer smiled down at her. “I welcome your help, little one. But there is no danger from that old man.”
Monaseetah straightened, her eyes narrowing, her lips drawn in a thin line of determination. “Yellow Hair, he brings a curse upon many. If you sat in his lodge, he has probably cursed you. Medicine Arrow must be defeated so the good men of my people can rule once more.”
“With your help, Monaseetah, we will free the two white girls.” Custer helped her to her feet, enfolding her in his arms. “Then we can end the reign of this evil one over your people.”
CHAPTER 24
CUSTER wasn’t at all surprised the next day when Medicine Arrow and most of his head men showed up in the soldier camp, announcing they came in friendship, wanting to talk with Yellow Hair.
“Medicine Arrow,” Romero translated Custer’s greeting, “it is an honor to have you visit our camp. Make yourselves warm by our fire.”
“Tell Yellow Hair we thank him for his kindness,” Medicine Arrow replied, settling on a wooden hardtack box.
“Are you hungry?” Romero inquired.
“No. Tell Yellow Hair there is no need for food now. We come as a gesture of friendship. In that spirit, I have asked some of our young men to come with me to perform for you. Following some riding tricks, you will enjoy a serenade of singers with flutes and hand drums.”
The old chief signaled one of his young warriors, who rode back to the edge of the camp where he gave word that the performance could begin. In colorful dress and paint, a dozen horsemen charged single file into camp, each one dropping off his pony to one side or the other, striking the ground with his heels before vaulting once more onto the animal’s back. Around and around the large gathering of soldiers they rode, performing their tricks.
“General Custer?”
Custer eyed Moylan, suspiciously. “What is it, mister? You seem agitated.”
“Can’t really talk here, sir. About the Indians.”
“No need to worry. They don’t understand English. Besides, we’d surely draw their suspicions by walking away to talk. Why not just say what you need to say—wearing a smile? Like you’re watching the riding. Move your eyes around some as you talk, not focusing all your attention on me.”
Custer pulled back laughing as a rider swept by him, making a valiant try for the soldier chiefs buffalo-fur cap. “Out with it, Moylan.”
“Watch commander brought word from our pickets. Wanted you to know they’ve spotted some unusual activity in the villages.”
“What seems to be going on with our Cheyenne friends?”
“They’ve brought their pony herd into the village.”
“Perhaps they’re moving them to another pasture.”
“Not this time, General,” Moylan said.
“Then spill it.”
“They’re loading the horses. The village is preparing to take flight.” Moylan blurted it out like a man shedding himself of a hot potato, anxious to watch someone else juggle it.
Custer’s eyes narrowed as he watched a sudden, drawn look cross the face of Romero, who was standing at his side. Then he threw an icy look in Medicine Arrow’s direction. “Romero, looks like you’ll have some translating to do here shortly.”
“Damn that cutthroat bastard!” Romero growled.
“Tell you what, Lieutenant,” Custer said as he slapped Moylan on the back, “keep that best Sunday- courtship-supper smile of yours as you stroll off to find Tom and Captain Yates. Fetch Myers and Dr. Renick. Thompson and Robbins too. Tell them all.”
“And when I’ve told ’em?”
“Have them select some steady hands from their units. Those men should pack their pistols and wander back here in pairs. No more than three together. It must seem casual. Don’t alarm the chiefs.”
“What’ll they come here for?”
“Tell them to be ready to act at an instant’s notice—but not until I give the order personally. You understand
