Bloodshed of Eagles Page 9

  The train depot was a busy place, filled with entrepreneurs who planned to meet, and do business with, the arriving gold hunters as well as disgruntled gold hunters, who had already given up the quest, and were waiting for a train to take them away.

  An itinerant preacher was taking advantage of the gathered crowd and was standing on a box over at the corner of the depot platform, preaching a sermon.

  “And yea, verily, I say unto you, seek not the gold of the Black Hills, for if you findeth gold, what have you found? You have found Satan’s door to the eternal fires of hell’s damnation, for surely with gold, you will spend it on whiskey and sinful women.”

  “Hell, yeah, Preacher. Why, if the woman ain’t sinful, they ain’t no need in me a-wastin’ my time with her,” someone shouted, and his response drew loud laughter from those who were gathered waiting for the train.

  “Here comes the train!” somebody shouted, and those who had gathered around the preacher abandoned him and crowded down to the track to watch the train’s arrival.

  The train rolled into the station with the bell ringing and steam gushing from the cylinders. It stopped with a squeak of steel on steel and a rattle of connectors, then sat in the station with popping, cooling journals and venting steam.

  Falcon watched the passengers get off until he saw Andrew and Rosanna. Smiling, he went toward them, and shook hands with his brother and hugged his sister.

  “Hello, Colonel MacCallister. We meet again, I see.”

  Disengaging from the hug, Falcon turned to see a beautiful young woman smiling at him. It was the same woman he had met in Secretary Taft’s office.

  “Lorena Wood,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  “General Custer invited me, and I thought it might make an interesting trip. And you?”

  “I came to watch my brother and sister perform,” Falcon said. “Have you met them?”

  “Yes, we met on the train,” Rosanna said. “I must say, brother, you made quite an impression on her. She was singing your praises until we told her that we were your brother and sister, and we knew all your foibles. ”

  “But you couldn’t dissuade me, could you?” Lorena said. “I told them, Colonel, that you and I met in Washington,” Lorena said. “I also told them how courageous and gallant you were when you saved my life.”

  Falcon cleared his throat. “Hardly that,” he said. “All I did was run a few miscreants off.”

  “Well, you were certainly my hero that day,” Lorena said flirtatiously.

  “My, my, it looks as if this visit may be more interesting than we anticipated, you think so, sis?” Andrew asked.

  “You may be right, Andrew,” Rosanna replied.

  “Shouldn’t we get back to the post?” Falcon asked.

  “Why, Colonel MacCallister, I do believe this pretty lady has gotten you all discombobulated,” Tom Custer teased.

  The dining table in Custer’s house was extended to its fullest length that night in order to accommodate all the guests. Libbie managed the seating arrangement, putting Tom Custer with Rosanna, and Falcon with Lorena. Margaret was with Jimmi Calhoun, Libbie was with Custer. Custer’s brother Boston and nephew Autie Reed, along with Falcon’s brother Andrew, completed the party.

  Custer, as was his right as host of the dinner, was regaling his guests by quoting from memory one of his articles for Galaxy Magazine.

  “Stripped of the beautiful romance with which we have been so long willing to envelop the Indian, transferred from the inviting pages of the novelist to the localities where we are compelled to meet with him—in his native village, on the warpath, and when raiding upon our frontier settlements and lines of travel—the Indian forfeits his claim to the appellation of the noble red man. We see him as he is and, so far as all knowledge goes, as he ever has been, a savage in every sense of the word, one whose cruel and ferocious nature far exceeds that of any wild beast of the desert.”

  “You see nothing at all noble in the Indian?” Falcon asked.

  “I do not, sir.”

  “And yet you have Indian scouts upon whom you not only depend for information, but often for your very life.”

  “Yes, my dear sir,” Custer said, holding up his finger as if proudly making a point. “But even those Indians, the Cree, the Crow, serve not for any noble purpose, but for the money we pay them, and also, to carry on their ancient enmity with the Sioux.”

  “Uncle, I am just happy you were reinstated to duty,” young Autie Reed said.

  “Yes, it would have been disastrous for the Seventh had I not been allowed to return in time to lead the regiment on this upcoming expedition,” Custer replied immodestly. “General Terry admitted as much to me. Can you imagine? Grant, that fool in the White House, wanted to put Reno in charge of the Seventh. And while I’ll admit that Reno fought well enough during the war, he wouldn’t have the slightest idea of what to do should the Seventh be attacked. It is a totally different thing when you are fighting Lo.”

  “Lo?” Lorena asked. She had a confused look on her face. “Who is Lo?”

  “The soldiers call the Indian Lo, my dear,” Libbie explained. “It comes from Alexander Pope’s Essay on Man.”

  Libbie began to quote the poem:

  Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor’d mind

  Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;

  His soul proud Science never taught to stray

  Far as the solar walk or milky way;

  Yet simple nature to his hope has giv’n,

  Behind the cloud-topped hill, an humbler heav’n.

  The others at the table applauded in appreciation.

  “Libbie just learned to recite that poem to aggravate me,” Custer said, and again they laughed.

  “Uncle, you were explaining why Major Reno would not be up to leading the regiment,” Autie Reed said.

  “Yes,” Custer continued. “The Indians, always mounted on fleet ponies, often charge in single file past your camp. They are magnificent riders and they show that in such a demonstration. They pass by in easy carbine range, but the soldiers, being unaccustomed to firing at such rapidly moving targets, are rarely able to shoot them. The Indians, riding singly, or by twos or threes, would, with war whoops and taunts, dash across the plain in a line parallel to that occupied by the soldiers until, finally, they turn and ride away.”

  Custer paused to take a bite of his bread, and he used the remaining roll as a pointer.

  “And here,” he said, “is where an inexperienced officer, like Reno, would make a fatal blunder. For the inexperienced officer would pursue the fleeing Indians. The Indians would make a great show of trying to get away, all the while leading the soldiers well away from the main body to where they could be surrounded and destroyed by the aid of overwhelming numbers of Indians, previously concealed in a ravine until the ambush could be put into play.”

  “General, you tell that story as if you are speaking from experience,” Falcon said.

  Custer laughed.

  “You are right, Colonel,” he said. “You are absolutely right. As a new officer, engaging the Indians for the first time, I did make just such a mistake.”

  “As long as you don’t make such a mistake again,” Libbie said, but there was no smile on her face as she spoke the words.

  Custer chuckled quietly. Then he reached over and put his hand on Libbie’s. “My dear sunshine,” he said. “How flattering it is to have you worry about me after all these years.”

  “I confess to being a little worried,” Libbie replied. “This next scout is a little different from the sightseeing expedition you took into the Black Hills. On this one, you are looking for Indians.”

  “Libbie, don’t you worry about Autie,” Tom said. “I’ll watch out for him.”

  “And who is going to watch out for you, Uncle Tom?” Autie Reed asked.

  “Sonny, I have two of these,” Tom said, pointing to the Medals of Honor that were pinned to his tunic. “I assure you, I am quite capable
of looking out for myself, my big brother, my little brother”—he looked at Boston—“and especially my little snot-nosed nephew.” He looked at Autie Reed.

  “I don’t need you to look out for me,” Autie Reed said, stung by the suggestion. “I can look out for myself.”

  “Really? Well, nephew, you were sure looking for me when the bullets started flying over your head,” Tom teased.

  “Bullets were flying over your head?” Lorena asked.

  “Yeah, Tom’s bullets,” young Autie Reed replied.

  “You should have seen him,” Tom said. “I was hiding behind a rock when he came riding up. I shot a couple of bullets over his head and he turned and ran.”

  “Which is exactly what he should have done,” Libbie said. “After all, he’s just a boy.”

  “I’m old enough, Aunt Libbie. I wouldn’t have been so frightened except I wasn’t expecting anything there.”

  “Which should be a good lesson for you,” Custer added, holding up his finger. “Always expect the unexpected.”

  “Believe me, Uncle, it is a lesson I have learned well,” Autie Reed said.

  As they were just finishing dinner then, Lorena offered to help with the cleanup.

  “Oh, don’t be silly, dear,” Libbie said. “Mary and the servants will take care of everything. Won’t you, Mary?”

  “Yes, ma’am, we sure will,” the maid answered with a broad smile.

  At that moment, there was a knock on the front door and one of the servants answered. A moment later, she came back into the dining room.

  “It’s the singers, sir,” she said.

  “Oh, good, good,” Custer said. He looked at his dinner guests. “Come, the singers are here. I think you will enjoy this.”

  “Singers?” Lorena asked.

  “My dear, every army post goes to great lengths to make sure it has men who can sing,” Libbie said. “And I think we are blessed to have the very best here at Ft. Lincoln.”

  “Come,” Custer said. “Let’s step out onto the front porch and listen to them.”

  The dinner party moved out onto the front porch where, standing on the lawn before them, there were three ranks of smartly uniformed men. The sergeant in charge saluted, and Custer, Tom, and, belatedly, Falcon returned the salute.

  The sergeant turned to his men, held his hands up for a moment, then brought them down. The men burst into song:

  I’ll take you home again, Kathleen,

  Across the ocean wild and wide

  To where your heart has ever been

  Since you were first my bonnie bride.

  The roses all have left your cheek.

  I’ve watched them fade away and die.

  Your voice is sad when e’er you speak

  And tears bedim your loving eyes.

  Oh! I will take you back, Kathleen,

  To where your heart will feel no pain

  And when the fields are fresh and green

  I’ll take you to your home again!

  After the singing, those on the porch applauded.

  “Sergeant Cassidy,” Custer said. “March the chorus to the sutler. Tell Mr. Smith to charge the first drink to my account.”

  “We thank the general, sir!” Sergeant Cassidy replied, with a salute. He turned to the chorus. “Detail, right face. Forward, march!”

  As the chorus marched away, they began singing.

  The hours sad I left a maid

  A lingering farewell taking

  Whose sighs and tears my steps delayed.

  I thought her heart was breaking.

  In hurried words her name I blest.

  I breathed the vows that bind me;

  And to my heart in anguish pressed

  The girl I left behind me

  Lorena asked again if there wasn’t something she could do to help.

  “I’m sure you can find something much more pleasant to do,” Libbie said. “In fact, if I may suggest such a thing, Colonel MacCallister, why don’t you show Lorena around the fort? I’m sure she would enjoy the tour.”

  “I’d be glad to,” Falcon replied. He glanced toward Lorena. “That is, if Miss Wood would be interested.”

  “Oh, I can’t think of a better way to close out a delightful evening,” Lorena replied.

  “You had better put a wrap on,” Libbie said as they started toward the door. “The nights get a little cool, even this late in the spring.”

  “You might try this,” Tom said, taking off his shell jacket, complete with the two medals, and slipping it over Lorena’s shoulders.

  “Why, thank you, Captain,” Lorena replied.

  “Captain, would you prefer to walk Miss Wood?” Falcon asked.

  “Why, Colonel, is my company so unpleasant that you would deal me off to another?” Lorena asked.

  “No, no, of course not,” Falcon replied, a little flustered by her response. “I was merely trying to be magnanimous to my host, that’s all.”

  “I appreciate your generous offer, Colonel, but I prefer to approach the young lady on my own,” Tom replied with a broad smile.

  “Then, by your leave, sir, I shall enjoy the walk,” Falcon replied.

  They walked down the front steps of the Custer house, then turned to look back at it. Cream colored with brown trim, a wide porch spread all the way across the front of the house, then ran down along the left side. It was a two-story house with dormer windows protruding from the roof of the second story. Five chimneys serviced the stoves inside, so that the house would stay warm in the winter.

  “The Custers certainly live in a nice house,” Lorena said.

  “Yes, that’s one of the advantages of being the commanding officer,” Falcon replied.

  “Do you have a house like that on the post that you command?”

  Falcon chuckled. “Not exactly,” he said. “My command is a state guard. We have some quarters, but none as nice as these.”

  As they passed one of the barracks, they heard singing.

  “Oh, listen,” she said, holding up her hand. “Why, it’s beautiful.”

  “Yes,” Falcon replied.

  They stayed just outside long enough to hear the song, which was being sung in four-part harmony. Then they moved on through the post, their way lit but dimly by the ambient light spilling through the windows of the barracks and post quarters.

  They heard the loud trill of a woman’s laughter, then other women joined in. This came from “Soapsuds Row,” so named because it was a row of houses occupied by laundresses.

  “Most of them are NCO wives,” Falcon explained. “And the money they make, combined with their husbands’ army pay, gives them a pretty good income.”

  They walked away from the quarters, and from the stables, until they were in the most remote corner of the post, on the other side of the parade ground, and some distance from any of the buildings. From there, they could see the Missouri River gliding by, the water gleaming a soft silver in the light of a three-quarter moon.

  “Halt! Who goes there!” a voice called from the darkness.

  Lorena gasped. “Oh, what is that?”

  “It’s a sentry, walking his post,” Falcon answered. Then, louder, he called out, “A friend.”

  “Advance, friend, and be recognized,” the sentry’s voice called back.

  Taking Lorena’s hand, Falcon moved toward the sound of the voice.

  “Halt,” the sentry called again.

  Falcon stopped and waited until the guard appeared from the gloom of darkness.

  “Identify yourself,” the guard said.

  “I am Colonel Falcon MacCallister,” Falcon said. “This is Miss Lorena Wood. We are both guests of General Custer.”

  The guard brought his rifle into the present- arms position.

  “The colonel and his lady may pass,” the soldier said.

  “Thank you, soldier, and good evening,” Falcon said, returning the salute.

  Falcon and Lorena continued in one direction, while the guard continued in
the other, gradually opening the distance between them.

  “That was rather exciting,” Lorena said. “Seeing the two of you salute each other, like that.”

  From the middle of the post came the long, mournful sounds of a bugle playing taps. Looking back toward the flagpole, Falcon and Lorena could see a soldier in silhouette. As they stood there, listening to taps, feeling a gentle breeze blow against them, with a vaulted sky full of diamonds and a gleaming river behind them, Lorena leaned into Falcon. She shivered, and as she did so, Falcon put his arm around her shoulders.

  When taps was completed, there was a long moment of silence.

  “That is one of the most moving things I have ever heard,” Lorena said.

  “Yes, taps can be quite impressive,” Falcon said. “But that is the last official act of a military day. I had better get you back before the general sends out a search party.”

  “Oh, I hardly think—” Lorena began, but she was interrupted by a call from the dark.

  “Miss Wood? Miss Wood, it’s Tom Custer. Are you out there?”

  “Yes, Captain Custer, I am here.”

  “Alone?”

  “I’m with her, Tom,” Falcon said.

  “Oh. All right. The general was just getting a little worried, is all.”

  “I’ll walk her back now,” Falcon said.

  “No need,” Tom replied. “I can walk her back.”

  “I guess you were right,” Lorena said. “General Custer did send a search party after me.”

  May 12, 1876

  The next day, the ballroom was given over for Andrew and Rosanna to give their performance. Every trooper of the Seventh Cavalry, except for those who had special duty or punishment detail, was present. General Custer himself introduced the act.

  “Men of the Seventh Cavalry,” he said. “As most of you know, I was recently in Washington and New York. While I was in New York, I attended a show in which Andrew and Rosanna MacCallister were the principal players. And as I watched that show, I couldn’t help but think of you back here, and I wished that you could have been there to watch these two wonderful actors perform.

  “I knew that wasn’t possible, though, as we will soon leave for a long scout.” He held up his finger. “But if I couldn’t take you to them, I could at least bring them to you. So I invited them to Ft. Lincoln and, I am proud to say, they accepted my invitation.