Ashes of Heaven (22 page)

Nodding, Seamus said, “That's why I like it just this way. I know where the money is if I truly need it. And, you have my instructions to turn it over to my Samantha if … if I shouldn't make it back.”

The officer gripped Donegan's forearm. “Then it is true, isn't it?”

“What's that?”

“I've heard talk that you've planned on riding back north to Miles's post on the Tongue River this spring.”

“Talk does make its way around Laramie post, don't it?”

“It's true?”

“Aye,” he sighed. “I gave my word that when General Miles marched out come spring, I'd be there to scout for him.”

“Don't you realize how far that is from here?”

“You remember, Colonel, I rode down here from the Tongue.”

“Yes, yes you did,” Evans replied with a wag of his head. “But with spring coming on, the Indians will be up and moving about again—hunting, raiding, letting the wolf out to howl—”

“Tell me, Colonel. Does George Crook have any scouting wages to pay a working man back there with him in his Omaha offices?”

“Can't say I've heard any word of Crook planning a spring campaign.”

“So does Mackenzie have something for an idle man to do over to Camp Robinson?”

“There might be something you could scare up to do around that agency, what with all the talk that Crook is busy convincing Spotted Tail to go bring Crazy Horse in—”

“Bleeming, bloody damn!” Seamus whispered harshly, glancing over the major's shoulder as Collins went about neatly folding the dresses, preparing to tie them in brown paper with coarse baling twine. “If I had to wait for those mights you've throwed at me, had to wait on all the could-be's the army promises a man, why—I'd still be damned poor and my wife wouldn't have had that grand celebration the day we named our son. And I sure as hell wouldn't have enough money to buy her the dresses she deserves, Colonel.”

Evans nodded reluctantly. “But there's always work to be done here—teamster, blacksmith—something rather than chancing your way north through the hunting bands, something better than to keep on fighting just when things are quieting down.”

“Things ain't going to quiet down enough for my wife and that little boy until they're quiet enough all the way north into Montana Territory, Colonel. I intend to go there to find an old friend I've lost track of over the years. And together we'll do us some digging.”

“Gold?”

“I pray it's gold we dig up,” he replied. “But to do that, I've got some work to finish. And so has the army, Colonel. All them warrior bands ain't gone in yet. Which means Mrs. Donegan and her boy are sitting right here till her mister helps get things settled down.”

“Will there be anything else now, Seamus?” Collins chirped, tying a knot in the twine he had wrapped around the second package.

Donegan held up two tin fifes. “A pair of these, my friend. One for the wee lad, and one for his pa. I'll take one along with me to the north country and learn to play it so I can teach the boy when I return.”

“You're dead set on riding back into that Indian country, are you?” the major asked.

The Irishman's eyes glimmered softly as he stuffed the two small fifes in a big patch pocket on his canvas mackinaw coat. “I've got a family to support now, Colonel.” He stuck the fingers of his left hand through the twine on both packages and raised them from the counter. “I'm too old and set in my ways to join your bleeming army. And I'm too proud to dig latrines, to hammer shoes on your horses, too proud to slap the backs of wayward, cantankerous mules.”

“Give me time, I'll find something for you to do here instead of you sticking your neck out—”

He laid a hand on the officer's shoulder, stopping Evans midsentence, then explained, “I know what work I'm good at, Colonel. It's honest work and I get paid a fair wage for it. After all, I've got a family I love more than life itself.”

Evans nodded in resignation. “Because you've got a family to support.”

“The older I get, it seems, the less opportunity jumps up in front of me … so when General Nelson A. Miles tells me he'll pay good wages for an Irish scout—by God, I'll ride as far as it takes, eat all the beans and hard-bread I can shove down, and I'll help him find the last of them warrior tribes, sir.”

*   *   *

“The Bear Coat speaks with straight words,” Two Moon declared, the first to talk that morning after their first night spent under army canvas. Army food lay in their bellies, army coffee and blankets had warmed them after their long journey.

White Bull and the others had asked Two Moon to speak for them. After breakfast and coffee, after they had passed the pipe among themselves, Two Moon stood now and talked as he looked at the Bear Coat, pausing frequently while Old Wool Woman translated for the half-breed, while Big Leggings translated for the
ve-ho-e
soldiers.

From the moment the soldier chief had begun to speak to them the night before, White Bull had begun to feel more certain he had made the right decision. And after their council with the Bear Coat was over, when the Lakota gathered with Hump in one tent and the Shahiyela gathered with Old Wolf and Crazy Head in another, most of the leaders admitted they were beginning to feel more confident that they had come north.

“We see what you have in your heart,” Two Moon continued. “It is well. We have decided to go back to our village, still a day's ride up the Buffalo Tongue River. Our chiefs will bring the village down so we can move right into the post. And we will surrender to you.”

When the half-breed spoke his white man words to the Bear Coat, the translation made the soldier chief smile. The other soldiers in the small room slapped themselves on the back, leaning forward over the seated chiefs and warriors, extending their arms to the Bear Coat. One after another they all gripped the soldier chief's hand and shook it in that white man way. So different, White Bull thought, from the way the Bear Coat shook our wrists yesterday.

That gesture told us we were his prisoners—not a happy thing. But this gesture among the white men this morning was one of unmistakable joy. These soldiers treat us so differently than they treat one another, when we are all warriors. All family men with wives and children. All men with hopes …

How White Bull hoped the good word of today would still be the good word of tomorrow.

Then Bruguier was talking to Old Wool Woman in Lakota as the soldiers grew quiet. A moment later, she was speaking to White Bull and the others.

“The Bear Coat is glad you have chosen to surrender to him here at his Elk River post,” she explained. “He says it's a very good thing that you will return to our village to bring them here to surrender. So the Bear Coat wants one man to stay with him while the rest travel to bring up the village.”

“One man?” Two Moon echoed.

“Yes. This man will be as I was while I stayed with the Bear Coat,” she instructed. “If the rest return, that man will be released. But if the village flees and does not come to the Bear Coat, then that man will be the soldier chief's prisoner.”

“He will not hold you captive as he did before?” asked Sleeping Rabbit.

“No. I am free to go back to my people,” Old Wool Woman said. “To return here with them to surrender.”

“He wants a man to stay as hostage?” asked Crazy Mule.

“A warrior leader,” she explained.

Then Two Moon turned to the group who sat around him. “Who among our young men will do this for our people?”

White Bull watched their eyes drop. They were fearful of treachery. “How quickly our young men talk of fighting,” the holy man chided them. “But when our leaders ask them to do a truly brave thing, these warriors lose their tongues.”

“One among you, surely,” Two Moon prodded the others. “One man to stay here with the soldiers, to stay with the women and children until we return with the village.”

“I am not a woman or a child!” retorted Brave Wolf.

“Yes!” agreed Roan Bear. “A warrior does not make a prisoner of himself unless he is willing to give his life over to his enemy.”

On and on they argued that morning, back and forth, looping all around the question, and still Two Moon could not convince a single young warrior to stay behind when the others left.

Just past midday in that cramped office, an exasperated Two Moon confided to Old Wool Woman, “Tell the Bear Coat that we cannot decide who will stay as his prisoner. We are going to talk among ourselves some more and when we have our answer, we will come to the soldier chief's house again.”

They filed out, tromping back to their tents where the
Ohmeseheso
and the Lakota sat around their fires and talked in low tones as the sun fell and night eventually spread across the land.

Two Moon spoke to the young men again the following morning, when all were up and had relieved themselves. Time dragged on and on, but still not one of them volunteered to stay with the soldiers as a prisoner. It became plain to White Bull that this was a matter of nothing more than pride. The simple, vulnerable pride of men who have agreed to surrender, but never entertained the idea they would be made prisoner.

“Old Wool Woman,” White Bull said, standing beside the fire as he handed his tin soldier cup to Iron Shirt. “I want you to go tell Big Leggings my words for the Bear Coat.”

Hump, his younger brother Horse Road, and their Lakota stepped in close around the Northern People seated in a ring at the fire.

“Tell the Bear Coat that I will stay,” White Bull continued as the group fell silent. On all sides many young warriors quickly put their hands to their mouths in amazement.

“You will stay?” Old Wool Woman repeated.

“Yes,” the holy man said. “I do not know what the Bear Coat wants with me, I do not know what the soldiers will do with me … but I will stay.”

Two Moon quickly came to stand before the older man. “You are certain you should do this?”

“If none of us will stay, then we are all prisoners,” White Bull explained to them quietly above the crackle of the fire. “If we are to make peace with the Bear Coat, then one of us must stay while the village comes to this place.”

“Surely, one of our younger men can step forward now and do this brave thing!” Old Wolf scolded the warriors.

“No,” White Bull declared, waving his hands to quiet the hubbub. “I have decided this is for me to do. If we are to believe in the Bear Coat, then the Bear Coat must believe in us. This is the only way we can make peace for our people. Go now—make your plans to return to the village. They are cold. They are very hungry. Bring them here where we can feed them and make them warm.”

Leaping to his feet, Iron Shirt began dancing in a tiny circle at the edge of the fire, singing his war song. Other men began chanting theirs. This was good and powerful medicine that enveloped White Bull at this moment of his courage. This was like a bravery run.

Surely what he had agreed to do was like
four
bravery runs!

No—this giving of one's self over to the soldiers for the good of his people was like something no man of the
Ohmeseheso
had ever done before!

Chapter 18

Mid-February
1877

“THE NEW GOLD FIELDS”

THE BIG HORN COUNTRY LOOMING UP.

AN EXPEDITION TO START IN APRIL.

AN OUTFITTING POINT WITHIN 150 MILES.

Best Route, Etc., Etc.

An expedition of from 200 to 300 miners and prospectors will leave Rawlins for the Big Horn country between the first and the tenth days of April, 1877, headed by the oldest miners and mountaineers in the west. It is desired by those going to increase their number as greatly as possible in order to secure safety and success in prospecting … All persons should go prepared to outfit themselves with a saddle-horse, packhorse and prospector's outfit. There are large stores at Rawlins where everything required for a complete outfit can be bought cheaper than parties could take the goods there. The merchants have agreed to furnish this expedition with their provisions at the actual cost of them laid down at Rawlins. Horses are plenty and can be bought at from $30 to $75. Any person desiring information will receive a prompt answer by writing to any of the following committee:

DR. T.M. SMITH,

P.J. FOSTER, Merchant,

JUDGE H.F. ERRET,

G. CARL SMITH, Attorney

at Law, Rawlins, Wyo.

Seamus could tell by the way the newspaper was folded and creased just so, that Samantha had intended for him to read that newspaper advertisement.

This was no casual dropping of the paper after she had read this latest edition of the
Rocky Mountain News,
freighted up from Denver with provisions bound for Fort Laramie. She had purposely wanted him to discover it here this morning after she and some other wives had gone next door.

Didn't she know how long the gold sickness had burned in him? As far back as those youthful days when he'd first come to Amerikay, listening to the overblown tales of the great California gold rush. Then just when he figured he might be old enough to strike out on his own for the Colorado hills, the Great War had come along and swept him up.

As soon as Appomattox had ended that horrid war and he was mustered out, why—Seamus had thrown in with a seasoned veteran and started for the gold diggings of Virginia City and nearby Nevada City. But he and Colonel Sam Marr had run afoul of Colonel Henry B. Carrington's army, and bumped right up against the Lakota of Red Cloud.

One of these days, Seamus had promised himself, he would get up to the gold diggings. If Virginia City had played out … he'd heard some of Tom Moore's packers talking about Last Chance Gulch. The last time he'd received word from Sam Marr years ago before heading out for Oregon Country and Captain Jack's war,
*
Last Chance Gulch was where Sam had staked a claim. Maybe he would have his own last chance after all up there in Montana Territory.