Lying flat in the knee-high grass, Jordan took careful aim at the rearmost of the three pronghorns that made their way down to the river’s edge to drink. On second thought, he waited. Might as well let them get a drink of water before I scare them to hell and back, he thought. He gave the antelope a few minutes to slake their thirst; then he sighted down on his target again. He slowly squeezed the trigger, and the pronghorn dropped to its knees before falling over dead on its side. Startled, the other two bolted in opposite directions before racing toward the hills.
Jordan didn’t move at once, waiting to see if the sharp crack of his rifle had summoned any wandering war parties. When there was nothing to disturb the quiet of the river after several long minutes, he got to his feet and went to retrieve his horse. Since the antelope’s carcass was lying handy to the water’s edge, he decided to butcher it right where it was. He was no longer concerned about Preacher Rix. There had been no sign of anyone following him since leaving camp that morning. So he went to work with his skinning knife, slitting the animal’s hide along the belly.
He was well into his work, quartering the animal when two Indians suddenly appeared on the low bluff about a hundred yards down river. They held their ponies in check while they looked the white man over. Jordan paused and stared back at them, wondering what the next move was going to be. He glanced over his shoulder, upriver, to see if there were any more in that direction. Then he glanced across the river to make sure that way was clear in case he was forced to make a quick retreat. There wasn’t much else he could do at this point. It would depend on what the two Indians had in mind, so he continued to watch them, waiting for them to call the play.
After some discussion between the two warriors, they turned their ponies toward him and walked slowly along the bluff. Jordan casually wiped his skinning knife on the pronghorn’s hide and returned it to its sheaf. Without a pause, he reached over and picked up his rifle. Within fifty yards now, one of the Indians held up his arm and made a sign of peace. Jordan returned it, but kept his rifle ready to fire at the first hint of deception. As the warriors approached, Jordan recognized Iron Pony, one of the Crow scouts who rode with the patrol he had accompanied. The Crow scout recognized Jordan at almost the same time. A smile appeared on his face then, and he urged his pony forward to greet Jordan.
“If I was a Sioux, I could have shot you back there,” Iron Pony said, grinning widely.
“That’s a fact,” Jordan admitted. “At least you coulda shot at me.” He pulled out his knife again and resumed his butchering. “What are you two doin’ out here? You’re kinda close to Sioux country, ain’tcha?”
Iron Pony dismounted and helped Jordan wrap the meat in the pronghorn’s hide. “We’re scoutin’ for your friend Lieutenant Wallace,” he said, grinning as he watched Jordan’s face for his reaction. “The patrol’s about a mile behind us.”
Jordan merely grunted in response as he loaded the meat up behind his saddle. When it was secure, he asked, “What brings the army out this way?”
Iron Pony went on to explain that there had been several raids on some of the ranches in the outlying areas, some within a half day’s ride of the fort. “Lieutenant Masters led a patrol that raided a Sioux camp upriver from here, but most of the Sioux got away. Wallace is set on findin’ them and wipin’ them out.” The grin returned to his face. “He said if he had been leadin’ the patrol instead of Masters, none of the Sioux would have got away.”
“I just came from that camp,” Jordan said. “There are about fifteen or twenty more Lakota warriors with that bunch than there were when Masters hit ’em. You’re pushin’ mighty deep into their territory. They may even have joined up with some of the other bands that jumped the reservation. I’d be mighty careful if I was you. How many men on this patrol?” When Iron Pony replied that there were twenty, not counting the lieutenant, Jordan shook his head solemnly. “That ain’t enough. I rode a-ways with this war party, and they’re all armed with rifles.”
Iron Pony shrugged. “Wallace says he ain’t scared of the Sioux—says they can’t stand up to a real cavalry attack.”
“Is that a fact?” Jordan shook his head, a picture in his mind of the arrogant young officer. “Just the same, you’d better watch yourself if you’re goin’ after this bunch.” He stepped up in the saddle, and the other Crow scout called out from the bluff above them that the patrol was in sight. Jordan and Iron Pony rode up to meet them.
Riding a few paces out in front, Lieutenant Wallace led the patrol, looking very much like he was passing in review on a parade ground. Jordan and the two Crow scouts pulled up and waited for the soldiers to reach them. Curious upon seeing someone with his scouts, Wallace scowled when he recognized the insolent scout who had invited him to kiss his behind. Corporal Macy sprouted a wide grin when he saw Jordan sitting beside the two Crows.
“There ain’t no tellin’ what you’ll run into out here,” Macy joked after Wallace halted the patrol. “What are you doin’ in these parts, Jordan?”
“Just tryin’ to get by,” Jordan replied, smiling.
Lieutenant Wallace chose to ignore Jordan’s presence, speaking directly to Iron Pony. “Any sign of the hostiles?” he asked.
Iron Pony told him that there had been no sign of Sioux war parties on the move, then relayed the information given him by Jordan. He concluded by advising, “Jordan says the camp has more warriors now, maybe fifteen or more.”
Skeptical, Wallace asked, “How does Mr. Gray know this?” When Iron Pony told him that Jordan had ridden with them to the Sioux camp, Wallace turned to acknowledge Jordan’s presence. “He rode with them?” Staring accusingly at Jordan, he sneered. “That would make him a renegade, wouldn’t it?”
Jordan was tempted to inform the egotistical officer that the invitation to kiss his ass was still open, but he felt an obligation toward the men under Wallace’s command. Directing his comments to Macy, he warned, “I wouldn’t go after this bunch with less than a full troop of cavalry. That camp Masters hit a few days ago has been reinforced, and they’re madder’n hell about the raid on their village.”
“Thank you for your expert opinion, Mr. Gray,” Wallace said, his tone heavy with sarcasm. “But I think I’ll rely on my scouts for information about the enemy.” Turning to Iron Pony, he ordered the scouts out again. Returning his gaze to Jordan, he said, “If you’re thinking about joining this patrol, you can tag along behind. Just be sure you don’t get in the way.”
Jordan couldn’t help but laugh. “Join your patrol?” he replied. “Hell, I’ve got better sense than to join any patrol you’re leadin’. If you find that Lakota village, you’re gonna have more than this patrol can handle, and that’s the fact of the matter.” Feeling the anger rising in his blood, he abruptly turned Sweet Pea’s head and took his leave. Passing Macy, he said, “Watch yourself. If you find that camp, it ain’t gonna be no picnic.”
He turned once to watch the patrol start out along the bluffs, following the river. Then he urged Sweet Pea forward, looking for a good spot to build a fire and cook some meat. He felt that if he didn’t have something to eat pretty soon, his stomach would be growling loud enough to summon a Sioux war party down upon him.
Selecting a wide gully that ran from the bluff to the water’s edge, he soon had a fire going. Cutting some of the raw meat into strips, he fashioned a spit out of a willow branch and squatted on his heels watching it cook. While he waited, his mind formed a picture of Lieutenant Thomas Jefferson Wallace sitting rigidly erect in the saddle as if on parade. Jordan had an overwhelming dislike for the man. He would have disliked Wallace even if he wasn’t betrothed to Kathleen. And he sincerely believed that if Kathleen could see her fiancé in the field, she would see him for the arrogant son of a bitch that he was.
His empty stomach churning with the sizzle of roasting antelope, he pulled the first strip off before it was thoroughly done and devoured it. Satisfied for the moment, he was content to wait for the rest of his dinner to cook. While it roasted over the flames, he climbed up on the bluff to have a look around. The patrol was long out of sight to the northwest, and there was no sign of any movement on the prairie. He turned slowly around in a complete circle, searching every direction. Satisfied that the patrol had not attracted any curious Lakota scouts to his fire, he descended the bluff to enjoy his meal.
After being empty for so long, his stomach, when finally filled to capacity, began to exert weight upon his eyelids. Like a mountain lion after a kill, he felt a strong temptation to take a short nap while his meal digested. Giving in to the urge, he climbed the bluff again to make sure he was alone, then settled himself by the fire, content that Sweet Pea would warn him of any danger.
* * *
Jordan awoke with a start. Immediately alert, he sat up and reached for his rifle. There was no sound but the gentle sigh of the river as it slid by the sandbar behind him, creating tiny eddies near the bank. He looked at Sweet Pea, only to receive a questioning gaze from the horse. Puzzled by the feeling of urgency, he scrambled up to the top of the bluff and searched the prairie around him once more. There was nothing. It then registered that it was late in the day. He had slept the afternoon away. It would soon be dusk. Maybe that explained his feeling of urgency when he awoke. He was wasting daylight when he could have been on his way to Fort Laramie and Kathleen. Maybe I should just go ahead and make camp right where I am—start out for Laramie in the morning. It suddenly dawned upon him that he was looking for excuses to stay, and he realized that it was the fate of the cavalry patrol that caused his concern. They were riding into certain trouble.
“Hell,” he blurted. “I warned ’em. If that pigheaded lieutenant has to see for himself, it’s not my problem.” Still, his conscience was not placated. There were the lives of the scouts and the enlisted men to be concerned for. Maybe he should have been more persuasive in his warning, instead of bristling before his rival. Well, he conceded, it’s too damn late to do anything about it now. Returning to the gully where he had built his fire, he unsaddled Sweet Pea and prepared to make camp. After collecting enough wood to feed his fire all night, he cut some more of the antelope meat for supper.
It was close to dark when the first of the column appeared along the far bluffs. Jordan, already alerted by Sweet Pea’s nicker, stayed low behind the lip of the riverbank until he identified the riders. Still, he didn’t expose himself for a few minutes. Something didn’t look right about the formation, and he soon realized what it was. Lieutenant Wallace was not out in front in his usual position, and the column was strung out with long intervals between some of the troopers. He counted only fourteen men. Where were the others? This didn’t look good. Climbing up from the bank, he hailed the column.
The call from the riverbank startled the limping column of soldiers, and there was an immediate rustle of weapons bristling. “Hold your fire!” Macy yelled. “It’s Jordan Gray.” He turned his horse and loped over to meet Jordan.
“What the hell happened?” Jordan asked when Macy stepped down.
“It was a damn massacre,” Macy replied, his face streaked with gunpowder and grime. “They musta seen us comin’. They led us right into it. We were lucky the rest of us got out alive.” He shook his head slowly, recalling the battle scene. “They got the lieutenant. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive. They killed six for sure. The rest of us fought our way back. There wasn’t nothin’ we could do for the dead. There was just too many Injuns.”
“Are they followin’ you?” Jordan wanted to know first.
“Not no more. They chased us for a couple of miles, but me and a couple of the men dropped back and picked off three or four of ’em. They turned back then.”
Jordan looked over the weary troopers as they gathered around him and Macy. Some wore makeshift bloody bandages. All were spent. “Where are your Crow scouts?”
“Don’t know,” Macy replied. “Lieutenant Wallace sent ’em out on the flanks, and we ain’t seen ’em since. The Sioux mighta got ’em. They mighta seen what happened and decided to save their own scalps. I couldn’t say.”
“You might as well make camp here,” Jordan said to Macy. “These men look too worn-out to go any farther tonight. You can set up some sentries on the bluffs to make sure the Sioux didn’t decide to come after you. And you can cook the rest of that antelope carcass if you want to.”
After Macy organized the guard detail and the horses were taken care of, he filled Jordan in on the details of the ill-fated raid. “We were comin’ up on a line of hills when we saw the first of ’em: half a dozen of ’em on top of a hill. We took off after ’em. They fired a couple of shots at us, then disappeared down the other side of the hill. We tried to cut ’em off. There was a long draw running between the ridges, and it looked like the shortest way to head ’em off. But when we got to the end of it, there weren’t no Injuns in sight. Then about two hundred yards off to the right, a party of maybe a dozen or more popped up out of a ravine and started shootin’ at us. Lieutenant Wallace ordered us to charge ’em.”
Here he paused to look Jordan directly in the eye. “I told him maybe we ought to hold back till we found out where the other six Injuns had got to. But he was rarin’ to go after that bunch in the ravine—said they’d scatter soon enough when they saw a genuine cavalry charge. For a minute, it looked like he was right, ’cause they took off down the ravine. The farther we rode, the tighter that ravine got, till it couldn’ta been no more’n forty yards wide near the end. I tried to call the lieutenant back, but he was out in front, chargin’ like hell. I didn’t like the look of it, but I didn’t have much choice but to follow him.
“When we got to the end of the ravine, it took a sharp turn, and we found ourselves out in the open with hills all around us—and there was them Injuns settin’ there lookin’ at us. Any fool could see right then what was gonna happen. I halted the men, but Lieutenant Wallace just kept on, chargin’ at ’em in full gallop. He hadn’t gone ten yards before the hills on both sides of us came alive with Injuns. I swear, there musta been a hundred or more. The lieutenant’s horse went out from under him. Bullets were flyin’ everywhere. We lost three men before we could retreat back to the ravine, but by the time we pulled back, they had closed that door behind us. There wasn’t nothin’ to do but climb up over the side and ride like hell. They picked off three more of us before we made it to the clear.” He shook his head, obviously feeling some guilt. “The last I saw of the lieutenant, he was fightin’ with four or five Injuns. We couldn’t do nothin’ to help him. There was too many of ’em, and I had to save as many of the men as I could.”
“No,” Jordan said, “it wouldn’t have done any good to sacrifice the rest of your men. You didn’t have much choice.” In all honesty, Jordan could not say he felt a great deal of sympathy for Wallace. He was more inclined to feel that the brash young officer got what he deserved. It was the men he had caused to sacrifice their lives who bothered him. He was stunned by Macy’s next comment, however.
“I never cared much for Wallace,” Macy began, “but it’s a shame to have to tell a woman she’s a widow after she ain’t been married but a week.”
“Kathleen? Married?” Jordan blurted, barely able to believe his ears.
Macy, puzzled by Jordan’s reaction, replied, “Yes, sir, Kathleen Beard, the surgeon’s daughter. They got married about a week ago. You know her?”
Jordan didn’t answer at once, couldn’t in fact. His brain was flooded in a confusion of thoughts. He had no notion that they would marry so soon. Somehow, he had harbored the impression that Kathleen would plan a big wedding, and it would take time to have a wedding dress made and lots of other things that a girl found necessary to prepare. He had been counting on that time to give her opportunity for second thoughts. Kathleen married! How could he have been so wrong about her? Evidently he had been the only one who felt an attraction. The blunt impact of Macy’s words left him speechless for a long minute. Then he realized that the corporal was staring at him, openly curious about his sudden paralysis.
“I know her,” he replied softly. “I reckon I didn’t figure they’d get married that quick.”
“Well, her husband is most likely dead by now,” Macy said. “And it’s a damn shame. She’s a right nice little lady.”
“You said you saw him fightin’ with some Indians. Did you see him actually killed?”
“Well, no,” Macy said. “I didn’t have time to do much lookin’. He was so far out ahead of the rest of us that they cut him off, and I had the men to worry about, too.”
Jordan could picture Wallace in his mind, riding ramrod straight in the saddle, charging ahead, expecting the Sioux to scatter and run before him. He couldn’t help but wonder if the corporal might have made more of an effort to rescue the lieutenant if Wallace had been more popular with his troops. He couldn’t deny the thought that flashed through his mind that it meant that Kathleen was no longer married. He wasn’t proud of it, but the thought was there.
“What are you plannin’ to do now?” Jordan asked.
Macy shrugged. “Nothin’ much I can do,” he said. “I ain’t got the men to go against that many hostiles. I reckon it’s up to the brass to decide if they’re gonna mount a regiment or somethin’ to clean that village out.”
And in the meantime nobody’s really sure if Wallace is dead or a captive, Jordan thought. The picture of a grieving Kathleen entered his mind, a new bride, now a widow, and he knew what he had to do. “Damn,” he uttered softly. Noting the quizzical expression on Macy’s face, he answered the corporal’s unspoken question. “Nothin’—there’s just somethin’ I’ve gotta do.” He rose to his feet and picked up his saddle. Macy didn’t say anything until Jordan started for his horse.
“What are you fixin’ to do?”
“I’m gonna go see if the lieutenant’s body is out there in that ravine. If I can’t find it, I’m gonna find that Sioux camp. He might still be alive, and it’s somethin’ I need to know for sure.” He somehow felt that he owed Kathleen that much.
“It’ll be dark soon,” Macy said. “You might better wait till mornin’.”
“Mornin’ might be too late if he is a captive. There’s gonna be another full moon tonight. There’ll be plenty of light to find that ravine.”
Macy found it hard to understand Jordan’s concern. He knew the contempt the broad-shouldered young man held for the lieutenant. What he was planning to do might very well place him in danger of being killed or captured as well. Macy was about to say as much when one of the sentries called out a warning.
“Riders comin’!”
The alert was sufficient to cause every man to seek some form of cover and prepare to repel a possible attack until the sentry called out again. “It’s Iron Pony and Otter.”
In a few moments, the two Crow scouts rode in, their horses showing signs of hard riding. Macy strode forward to meet them, curious to know where they had been all this time. Iron Pony recounted the series of circumstances that separated them from the column. They had ranged out about a mile or so from the patrol. When the shooting started, they tried to reach the column, but were intercepted by the Sioux—the same party of six who had originally baited the soldiers. The Crows had to make a run for it, eventually losing their pursuers in the hills. During the chase, they had almost blundered into the Sioux village. By the time they were able to make their way back to the ravine where the ambush took place, the soldiers had retreated. Iron Pony and Otter watched from the western ridge while the Sioux warriors scalped the fallen troopers. When asked about Lieutenant Wallace, Iron Pony told them that Wallace was taken captive and was still alive when they last saw him.
Jordan’s task was clear to him now. He had to make an attempt to rescue Wallace—not for the lieutenant’s sake, but for Kathleen’s. Upon hearing that Wallace was alive, Macy volunteered to take a few of the men and go back with Jordan. Jordan rejected the offer, figuring the chances were better for one man to sneak close enough to the Sioux village to see what was going on. “I’ll take Iron Pony,” he finally decided, “to show me where the Sioux camp is—if he’s willin’ to go.” The Crow scout readily agreed to guide him to the camp. “I can wait till you get somethin’ to eat,” Jordan told him. Turning to Macy, he said, “He’s gonna need a fresh horse.”
Iron Pony tore off a portion of the antelope meat and ate it while one of the soldiers put his saddle on an army mount. In a matter of minutes, he was ready to follow Jordan. Macy and the rest of the patrol watched as the two filed out of the camp and disappeared into the bluffs, just as the full moon made its first appearance over the distant hills.