23 July-2 August 1876
Another Courier Gobbled Up—The Utes on the War Path
OMAHA, July 20—A message received this morning from the commanding officer at Fort Fetterman, says a private courier has just arrived from the command on the field, who left the night of the 17th. The day previous a courier was started with the mail and official matter, but has not yet arrived. All quiet and well in camp.
Captain Nickerson, aid de camp to General Crook, returned last evening from Rawlins, Wyoming, whither he went on business connected with securing the Ute Indians of the White river and Bear river regions in Colorado, to unite with General Crook in his campaign against the Sioux. Although there was a delay of about twenty days, occasioned by the obstinacy of the employed scout or agent, the Utes will nevertheless be able to reach General Crook in a few days, to take a hand in the war against the Sioux, who are their inveterateenemies, and who have fought and plundered them for years at every available chance.
Sitting Bull Said to be Dead, Sure Enough
ST. PAUL, July 20—A
“You can entrust your letter with me, Mrs. Donegan.”
Just then the shrill notes of “Boots and Saddles” floated over the Fort Laramie parade in the chill air of dawn.
Sam looked up into the face of the tall plainsman, his dark-brown hair spilling over his collar in curls, just the way Seamus’s did. She realized again that her husband had spent nights and days, miles and seasons, boredom and terror, with this famous man. Shivering with dawn’s chill, she slid the folded pages she had sealed with wax into his open hand and pulled her heavy shawl more tightly around her shoulders.
Cody asked, “Is there anything special you want me to tell him when I see him, before I hand him your letter, or after? Anything I can tell him for you in person?”
Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out, “Tell him to hurry home.” Then her gaze fell to the ground, sorry she had said it. When she finally looked back up, she found Cody grinning softly at her.
He looked down at the folded, sealed pages in his hand. “There is no doubt in my mind, Samantha—that you are in all ways a woman who could surely bring a man home from a distant war.”
She watched the tall man stuff her letter inside his shirt before pulling his fringed gauntlets over the cuffs of his buckskin coat. Everything about him was fringed now. Gone was that theater costume of black velvet he had worn into Laramie two days before. Fort sutler Collins had provided Cody with a box in which the scout packed the scarlet-trimmed outfit before he had Collins tie it up in yellow twine and post it back to Rochester, New York.
“It’s where my wife waits for me,” Cody had explained yesterday to Samantha, that one long and intensely busy day Colonel Wesley Merritt allowed his Fifth Cavalry to prepare before embarking for Fetterman, and on to the Big Horns. “So, you see? I am no greenhorn to this matter of men going off to war.”
“That … New York seems so far away,” Samantha
said.
He nodded, lips pursed beneath that brush-straw mustache. “Yes, but even when Lulu waited back at McPherson for me—it was all the same to me. A mile or ten thousand. A day or a whole campaign. When a war comes between a man and his woman, it matters not how far they are apart, nor does it matter for how long, Samantha. What remains important is that those two people keep one another in their hearts.”
“Yes,” she said, suddenly deciding. “You can remind him of that, Mr. Cody.”
“Bill, please.”
“Bill, yes. Remind Seamus of what I’ve told him and written him so many times: that there are times that I think of him, almost feel him draw near just through the power of what I feel in my heart—and that makes this lonely ache a little more bearable.”
Cody slipped the wide-brimmed sombrero from his head and held it over his own heart as he took up the reins to the big buckskin. Beyond them the bugles were blaring the notes that formed up the ranks. Then with the rattling noise of a child’s wind-up wooden toy clattering across an uneven floor, the sergeants in every one of those cavalry companies yelled and shouted and bawled and hollered out their one-word order.
“Mount!”
Cody leaned close for a moment. “To feel him near you with the power of your love for him—ah, that will make a man like Seamus more happy than you could ever know, Samantha. I am dead certain that your words will drive all the lonely ache from his heart, believe me!”
He planted the hat back atop his long curls, then slipped one tall, knee-high boot into a stirrup.
“Tell him …” Then she suddenly felt shy as Cody turned there in midmounting, waiting for her to continue. She held her fingertips against her lips as she whispered, “Tell Seamus that I love him.”
He nodded and rose to the saddle, bowing slightly at the waist when he said, “By all means, Samantha. To Seamus that will mean the most.”
She came forward a step, her fingers lacing around the reins just short of the buckskin’s bit. Important that here in these last few moments she could stand close to a man who would soon be standing this close to Seamus —she wanted to say so much but could not think of where to begin, how to get it all out.
“Mr. Cody—”
“Bill. I asked you please, Samantha.”
With one hand holding the shawl around her, she now took her other hand from the buckskin’s reins and placed it softly on her swollen belly, rubbing it slightly the way she liked to sense the contact on her taut skin below the layers of clothing, the way she knew the child must like to feel her touching, caressing.
“Yes, Bill. And tell him … tell Seamus that
Cody smiled with his lips pursed for a moment, then blinked his eyes, moving his lips before any words came out. He turned away briefly, swiping his eyes clear. When he turned back to look down at her, the plainsman had to clear his throat before he could say, “That, Samantha …
She watched him tap the brim of his hat as he squeezed his knees against the buckskin’s ribs and the horse moved off.
“Column of fours!” bawled a loud voice that carried over the entire width and breadth of the grassy parade. “By the right—turn!”
Easing quickly into a lope, the plainsman reined away toward the head of the column that was making its turn four by four by four, the blue-starred and red-striped guidons barely troubled in the still, cold air of that dawn this twenty-third day of July.
Then the infantry band started up. Oh, how she had come to hate the song.
The hour was sad I left the maid,
A ling’ring farewell taking;
Her sighs and tears my steps delay’d—
I thought her heart was breaking.
Something gripped her chest more every time she heard it. Forced to watch more and more men marching off to this God-blessed war against the Indians.
In hurried words her name I bless’d;
I breathed the vows that bind me,
And to my heart in anguish press’d
The girl I left behind me!
How she hated hearing the brass horns, rattling drums, and reedy clarinets pitch into the notes of that mournful song.
Full many a name our banners bore
Of former deeds of daring,
