Read Wolf Mountain Moon Online
Authors: Terry C. Johnston
Wolf Mountain Moon (26 page)
“Just two, General?”
“Two, Leforge. That's all. So, believe me, I'm going to get my money's worth out of
you.”
“You're really keeping me on to scout for you?”
Miles pointed a big finger at the squaw man. “Damn right I am. While you might not be my prisonerâI do in a way consider you my hostage.”
“H-hostage?”
Miles went on. “You brought those Crow here, squaw man. Those Crow probably just killed any chance I ever had of getting the rest of the Sioux to surrender to me. Not to Crook, but to
me!
So now you're staying put, and when this outfit's ready to march again in a few days, you're going to take me south, Leforge.”
“South?”
This time Miles turned to his chief of scouts, asking, “That's where the hell those Sioux came from, wasn't it, Kelly?”
Luther nodded, grim-lipped as he answered, “South, General. Probably camped along the Tongue.”
The colonel slowly leaned onto his desk, rising out of his canvas chair. “And Mr. Leforge here is going to make up for the murder of those five peaceful Sioux by leading me up the Tongue after the one Sioux warrior we all know won't ever give up and make peace.”
“C-crazy Horse?” asked Leforge.
“Goddamned right,” Miles grumbled. “If those Sioux don't accept my offer of peace after what your Crows did, Leforgeâyou're gonna be the one who takes me right into the lap of Crazy Horse himself.”
*
Hanging Woman Creek, site of present-day Birney, Montana.
*
Also known as Fat on the Beef in historical literature.
â
Sometimes referred to as Lame Red Skirt.
*
Arikara, or Ree, Indians from the Upper Missouri country.
*
The Crow, or Absaraka, tribe.
Chapter 1517 December 1876
BY TELEGRAPH
Steamers Crushed in the Ice at St. Louis
Etc., Etc., Etc.
MISSOURI
Ice Jam at St. LouisâSteamers Caught and Crushed.
ST. LOUIS, December 11.âA reporter lately up from the arsenal gives these additional particulars of the destruction of steamers this month. It appears that nearly all the boats of the Keokuk Northern line were in winter quarters near the arsenal and supposed to be secure from damage. When the ice started these steamers were forced from their moorings and carried down stream. The War Eagle and Golden Eagle, two large and valuable boats, were forced on shore opposite the arsenal wall in such a manner as to
block the passage, and the other boats crowded and caused a complete jam. ⦠At 2
P.M
. the ice again moved, crushing the boats still closer together, and doing additional damage. Again at 4
P.M
. there was another movement of ice which pressed against the boats with terrific power and forced them still farther down, crushing guards, upper decks and wheels and doing great damageâ¦. The hull of the Mitchell was stove in and she filled, but her position prevented her from settling to the bottom.
Headquarters Cantonment at Tongue River
December 17, 1876
To
Philip H. Sheridan
Assistant Adjutant General
Department of Dakota
Saint Paul, Minn.
Sir:
I have to report the occurrence of an unfortunate affair at this place, yesterdayâ¦.
Those killed were believed to be Bull Eagle, Tall Bull, Red Horse, Red Cloth, and one other prominent Chief of the Sioux nation. I am unable to state the object of Bull Eagle's coming, but am satisfied he came with the best of motives. I can only judge from the following: When he surrendered on the Yellowstone, after the engagement on Cedar Creek, he was the first to respond to my demands, and, I believe, was largely instrumental in bringing his people to accept the terms of the Government.
[Bull Eagle] seemed to be doing everything in his power for the good of the people, and endeavoring to bring them a more peaceful condition. He appeared to have great confidence in what I told him. I gave him five days to obtain meat; during that time he lost three favorite ponies which were brought to this place. During my absence he came in, bringing five horses that had strayed or been stolen from some citizen in the vicinity, and requested his ownâ¦.
[The five murdered Sioux] were within a few hundred yards of the parade ground, where they were deliberately placing themselves in the hands of the Government, and within the camp of four hundred Government troops.
[This whole affair] illustrates clearly the ferocious, savage instincts of even the best of these wild tribes and the impossibility of their controlling their desire for revenge, when it is aroused by the sight of their worst enemies, who have whipped them for years and driven them out of their country. Such acts are expected and considered justifiable among these two tribes of Indians, and it is to be hoped that the Sioux will understand that they fell into a camp of their ancient enemies, and did not reach the encampment of this command.
Very respectfully
your obedient Servant
(sgd.) Nelson A. Miles
Colonel 5th Infantry
Brevet Major General U.S.A.
Commanding.
Seamus Donegan took a deep breathâso deep, the cold air hurt within his chest. He nudged the roan and kept the gelding's nose pointed north.
Down the Tongue all the way to the Yellowstone.
Seamus had been there before. Last summer with Crook and Terry, after Custer got half his regiment wiped out. About the time Nelson A. Miles got itchy to break loose from the senseless thumb twiddling of the two generals and headed toward the Tongue for the winter.
It wasn't just cold in this country anymore. No. This had become pure hell: one day after another of endless, soul-thieving cold. Then yesterday he was certain the temperature played a card off the bottom of the deck on him. Instead of warming through the day, it got even colder. Mercilessly cold.
And the wind never stopped.
Tugging the thick, wide wool scarf up to the bridge of his nose, Seamus used it to swipe quickly at the tears seeping from his eyes because the galling wind was strong enough, stubborn
enough, to sneak inside every gap of his clothingâdespite the Irishman's best efforts to pull his head down inside the big flap collar of his wool-and-canvas mackinaw like a turtle, turning his face to one side as he fought to keep one eye on some landmark off in the distance. North by west.
One eye that constantly watered from that wind beneath the long gray frosted hairs of the wolf-hide cap.
“It's your'n now, boy,” old Dick Closter had told him that Sunday morning at Crook's wagon camp on the Belle Fourche. “I'm going back to postâput up my feet and play some cards by the stove. So I figger you need it more'n me.”
“Swear I'll get it back to you soon as I come down through Fetterman.”
The old mule packer's eyes had softened beneath the two bushy white beetles nestled on his brow. “You just keep it, son. And remember me as your friend when you wear it.”
Behind him whipped the wide-brimmed hat attached only by that wind string knotted around his neck. Tossed this way and that, it would again one day provide shade from a blazing sun or protect his eyes from the piercing glare off winter snow. Seamus snorted. No glare these last few daysâwhy, the sun had been no more than a buttermilk-pale button in the sky, if that. What with the way the storm clouds danced past one right after the other, day after day. Seamus sniffed and dragged the horsehide gauntlet mitten under his sore, reddened nose.
For three and a half days he had followed Three Bears and the other Lakota scouts, who had led him northwest to the mouth of the Little Powder. He had wanted to push right on down the Powder itself, rather than chance the arduous crosscountry journey. But Three Bears had advised against it. To ride the Powder in the wintertime was a gamble: the Crazy Horse people preferred its valley at this time of the year. Upstream or down, a lone white man was taking a very, very big chance.