that, hurling orders for the entire battalion to take up their arms and make ready to defend their lives and their property against their ancient and mortal enemies.
“I knew better,” Donegan said, all but under his breath.
“Knew better about what?” Luther asked as he trotted up.
“Crook should’ve knowed better than to try mixing Pawnee and Sioux in the same scouting party.”
“The mortal truth, that is. Too much blood been spilled between ’em already,” Frank North added sourly. “I figured Crook would know.”
“It was bound to come to this,” Seamus said with a doleful wag of his head as he slipped one of his revolvers out of its holster and confirmed that the cylinder was fully loaded. “They been enemies too bleeming long.”
“You have our men wait here, Luther,” Frank instructed his brother. “We’ll head up to the fort.”
“On that pony?” Donegan asked.
“Damn right—on
“I’ll have the men stay here and keep watch over the herd and our camp,” Luther volunteered, waving one of his sergeants over. “I figure they can hold their own against the Sioux without us.”
“Even though those Lakota outnumber the Pawnee more’n two to one,” Donegan replied, “your boys ought to make a good stand of it.”
The three civilians leaped into the saddle and loped away, heading toward the ferry. Problem was, between the Pawnee bivouac and the riverbank lay the Sioux camp. As the three riders came in sight of the Sioux mercenaries, Seamus could see that most of them had gathered in a large knot around Three Bears as he harangued them.
“Damn, but that one’s a red preacher if he’s anything at all!” Donegan muttered. “If he ain’t sermonizing to Crook about this or about that, he’s preaching to his warriors about you and that pony!”
Just as the trio approached the group, the Sioux all fell silent, staring with undisguised anger at the white men. Frank tapped the pony with a spur. Being a high-spirited animal, the pony began to dance and cavort as the three passed by the Sioux warriors. At the same time, Frank spontaneously began singing the Pawnee war song— well known to many of the older Lakota warriors.
Luther promptly joined in. At which time Seamus switched the reins to his left hand, positioning his right near the butt of the revolver he wore cocked over his left hip.
Not another word was spoken. Not one of the Sioux moved anything but their eyes as they watched the three white men pass by, two of them singing that song of their mortal enemy.
Atop the bluff at the fort, Frank spotted Clark and demanded the lieutenant accompany him to find Crook.
“I’m told the general’s over in the sutler’s store,” Clark said. “Purchasing the last of his personal items for the march.”
North said, “Suppose you go tell him we want to see him about this pony business.”
“Yes,” Clark seethed as he began to stomp off. “I’ll do just that.”
Donegan waited with Frank and Luther as Clark went into the sutler’s shack and returned with Crook.
“General—there stands the pony in question,” the lieutenant explained. “Per your instructions regarding the mounting of our auxiliaries—after your meeting with the Sioux scouts—I took Three Bears to the herd across the river and allowed him to select a new mount because his was played out.”
“So explain how this altercation with Major North came about.” Crook said, his eyes flicking from Frank to Luther, then back to the lieutenant.
Clark replied, “Major North refused to let Three Bears have the horse the chief picked out and took him back from the Indian.”
“I see,” Crook muttered, clearly nettled that he had to be dragged into what he saw as a trivial matter.
“Wait a minute, General,” Frank said, stepping forward. “I didn’t
The lieutenant edged forward, saying, “I am not wrong!”
“Mr. Clark,” Crook snapped. “You will wait until I ask you to speak. Go ahead, Major.”
Frank said, “The horse the Sioux picked was the one you yourself allowed me to choose for myself back at Fort Laramie, General.”
Rubbing his nose thoughtfully for a brief moment, Crook cleared his throat and turned on his aide. “Mr. Clark, it is clear to me that you should have gone to the Norths’ camp before you took the Sioux chief to the herd to select a replacement mount. That way the major could have shown you which horses we were holding to remount the Sioux for the campaign.”
“With the general’s permission,” the lieutenant protested, “I think the matter of this pony being returned to Three Bears should be given more weight—”
“Permission denied, Mr. Clark,” Crook snapped angrily. “This is a horse I gave to Major North. None of the horses given out to the Pawnee will be returned to the Sioux. Is that understood?”
Clark nodded, abjectly humiliated. “Perfectly, sir.”
“I will not have it said that George Crook gave … then took away. Is that understood as well, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely understood.”
Donegan almost felt sorry for Clark, if it hadn’t been for the fact that the lieutenant had thrown in with the wrong side in a dispute over right and wrong.
North graciously suggested, “General—I have an idea, with your approval, of course.”
“I’m listening.”
“I have forty extra horses that you gave to my men after the roundup and capture. They will probably be all the extras we shall need on this campaign—so I’ll be glad to turn all the others over to the Sioux scouts. Why not have them take all the rest of the horses that were kept out as extras?”
Crook’s eyes brightened once more. “A splendid proposal, Major.” He turned to Clark. “You’ll see that you pass word on to our Sioux auxiliaries, Lieutenant?”
Clark grumbled, “Yes, General.”
“Perhaps that will soothe their ruffled feathers.”
“War feathers, General,” Seamus corrected.
“Quite so, Irishman. Quite so,” Crook replied.
“General, if I may,” Frank North said, “while we’re here, I’d like to address this matter of something the lieutenant said to me: that he was planning on having command of all the Indian scouts.”
Clark hurriedly added, “That is what you told me, General—”
But Crook interrupted the officer by raising his hand, saying,
“I get the feeling you have a problem with that, Major North.”
Frank explained. “Not really me, General. My men won’t go for it. They’ve fought under me and Luther for so long, and now you’d put them under the command of a soldier who rode boldly into our herd beside an old enemy, the one called Three Bears, to take one of our horses? I don’t think your plan’s going to work.”
“I believe I see,” Crook brooded, tugging at one of the two long braids in his beard. Then quickly he looked up, pointing at Frank, “You go tell your battalion that they remain under your command and will take their orders from no one else but the commander of this expedition.”
“Understood, General,” Frank replied.
Crook wagged his head as he looked at a sullen Lieutenant Clark, then turned back to Frank North. “Still, my heart wishes the Sioux and your Pawnee could get along better. To be friends now that we’re all soldiers together.”
Frank rubbed a boot toe on the frozen ground, in the manner of a man looking for the right words to put on a difficult subject. “General—if I may—to force the Sioux and the Pawnee to become friends will be very difficult, for they have been bitterest enemies for many generations.” North went on to briefly relate how long ago the Pawnee felt the pressure of the Lakota bands when the Sioux first moved onto the plains.
Crook said, “I see. So it would be fair to say the Pawnee and the Sioux have had themselves a blood feud for a long, long time.”
“Now, General—if you wish to issue an order commanding the Pawnee to make up with their bitterest
