here. Captain, you and your brother will take Captain Cushing along with most of your Pawnee to scout the middle trail heading due north. Major Royall?”
William B. Royall saluted smartly. “General?”
“Major—you will command half our unit. Companies E, G, and H. Take Cody along with some of North’s Pawnee to scout the right-hand trail leading off to the northeast. There, onto that open land yonder.”
Royall nodded, clearly showing his happiness at being freed for the chase with half the regiment. “I assume, General, that you’re going to lead the third wing yourself?”
“I am. Direct command of companies A, C, and D. Mr. Sweete, you’ll ride with me. Sergeant Wallace will follow with four of the companies. In addition, six of the Pawnee are to be assigned to Mr. Sweete here. If for nothing else, the trackers can now serve to communicate between our separate wings. I’ll hold M Company in reserve, to remain some distance to the rear with the supply train.”
By the time the sun rose blood-red on that day, portending even greater heat than in days already suffered, Major Eugene Carr had completed his division of nearly three hundred officers and soldiers, including civilian and Pawnee scouts.
Less than an hour later, after traveling at as fast a clip as the weary mounts could stand, Carr had to admit that the trail sign was irrefutable.
“I can see now that the Cheyenne are moving toward the river,” Carr said quietly to the old plainsman beside him. “Just as you and Cody said they were.”
“You can still flank ’em if you push now, General,” Shad replied.
Carr nodded. Then stood for a few moments in the stirrups, squinting into the distance. “If my command can flank them from the northeast—getting the entire outfit between them and the river—then we will have them bottled up.”
“Then it won’t make no matter if you find Tall Bull in camp, or on the move already this morning.”
“Which would you prefer, Mr. Sweete?”
“On the move, General.”
“Why?”
“You surprise those Dog Soldiers in camp—the men gonna fight like hornets while the women and old ones skedaddle in retreat. Your men will get no quarter from that bunch if you catch ’em hunkered down in camp.”
“But if we surprise them on the march?”
“The whole bunch will be at a gallop from the first shot—covered by the warriors just long enough to make an escape, scattering as they go.”
“If choices are mine to make, Mr. Sweete—I choose to make a fight of it: like Custer had for himself on the Washita. For these men who have obeyed my orders and endured such hardship in the last few days—I want my chance to make a fight of it for the glory of the Fifth.” Carr’s eyes narrowed on the gray-headed scout. “By damn— we
At the edge of the earth, the sun had gone from blood-red to orange, then bubbled to a pale yellow before it now hung ash-white against the immense pale-blue dome overhead. Already the air in Shad’s face carried all the heat of a blacksmith’s bellows.
“If you figure your boys are ready and got some fight left in ’em, General,” Shad said, swiping his big black bandanna across his dripping face, “then let’s go seize this day!”
21
“YOUR FACE IS masked with the worry of an old man, my friend,” Porcupine said.
“This camping place—I do not like it,” High-Backed Bull grumbled. With a hand he swept a gesture across their village in the narrow valley beside the springs.
Their next march would take Tall Bull’s camp of Dog Soldiers to the Buffalo Dropping River itself, that river which the white men called the Platte. From there they would cross and turn directly north for the high plains where the white man’s Medicine Road had cut deep ruts in the flesh of the earth. Beyond those plains only a matter of but a few days’ marches stood their sacred Bear Butte. There Tall Bull and White Horse and Porcupine would renew the flagging spirits of their warriors. They would refresh their vows and perhaps hold a sun dance. Once there, the fighting bands would have little worry of being followed by the soldier columns.
But until then Bull would worry. The soldiers were back there. Coming slowly, slowly. But coming all the same.
“Why here?” Bull asked Porcupine. “Why did Tall Bull have us stop here beside this spring?”
Porcupine shrugged. “This is the place our people have camped across many summers. At least once each year—so we know this country well. Besides, the water is good here.”
“But why stop for so long?”
“The old ones gave their approval. They told Tall Bull it was safe to camp here, safe to rest the village.”
“The rattle-talkers see no need of caution?” Bull asked, incredulous. “No need to keep on moving with the pony soldiers coming behind us?”
“No. They consulted their medicine and recommended some rest for the village. It is not so bad, Bull—not with the way we have had to drive the animals and people for far too many suns. They deserve a chance to rest, to make repairs, before we are pushed on again.”
“We will be pushed, Porcupine—the pony soldiers will push us!”
The older warrior tried a halfhearted chuckle. “You worry so for a young man. Leave that to the old ones.”
“Leave the worry to the old ones, who talk only to their stuffed owls and dried badger entrails?” Bull suddenly stood, staring down in the new sunlight at Porcupine. “It seems I can trust only to one thing anymore. To my weapons, to the sharpness of my scalping knife—to the quickness of my pony and the strength of my arms to continue making war on the white man.”
“You must relax, young one,” Porcupine answered soothingly. “I think you see the one who fathered you in the face of every white man. He—”
“I know he comes soon.
“He is old now, Bull. Gone are his days of fighting—”
“We must move on!” Bull interrupted. Then a light crossed his face, his eyes growing wide in abrupt, exquisite excitement. “Or—we can lay a trap for the white men. To draw their soldiers in and destroy them.” He lunged for Porcupine, gripping the bewildered war chief’s shoulders. “Say yes—that we can lure the white men into a trap!”
Porcupine shook his head. “This is a place of rest, decided upon by the chiefs.”
Bull yanked his hands from the older warrior, feeling sickened to his stomach, doubt rattling around inside his belly the way stream-washed pebbles clattered around inside a stiffened buffalo-scrotum rattle. “You have gone soft on me while I was not looking, Porcupine.”
“The medicine men have said—”
“What they say does not change a thing. The soldiers are still behind us.”
“We are far ahead of them—and they have been moving so slowly. You saw for yourself when we have attacked—”
“This bunch of pony soldiers—they will not stop. They will keep coming, and coming. They want Tall Bull’s woman back. They want the other one too. These soldiers will not stop until they have destroyed us. Those women that Tall Bull and White Horse will not release, they will be our undoing.”
Porcupine put an arm around Bull’s shoulders, attempting to calm his young friend in some way. “The soldiers are too far behind us to attack. But if they do find us before we have crossed the river, Tall Bull has made a vow that will please your heart.”
“What is this vow of his?”
“Tall Bull has sworn that if the soldiers come—he will see that his white concubine is the first to die.”
• • •
