Major Robert Linebaugh, grinning broadly, strode out to greet his young friend when B Troop filed into Fort Laramie after a hard day’s march. “Hello, Thad, glad to see you back. Looks like we’ll be riding together again. The old man has given me command of an expedition to chase down those Indians you reported on the Powder.” His smile faded as he realized the reduced number of troopers B Troop returned with. “I heard you ran into a hornets’ nest over at Buffalo Creek. What happened, Thad?”
“It was pretty bad, Robert. We got sucked into a nice little trap . . . got chewed up right smartly. I lost nearly half my troop, either dead or wounded.”
“How did it happen?” He glanced in Jason’s direction and nodded solemnly. “Didn’t you scout the camp first?”
Thad followed Linebaugh’s glance and hurried to defuse the thought. “Oh, it wasn’t Jason’s fault. If it wasn’t for him, I might have lost almost all the troop. That damn Sioux scout, Walking Crow, led us into it. He was in cahoots with the hostiles. We ran into a solid wall of repeating rifle fire. I swear, Robert, I thought they were going to overrun us for sure.”
Linebaugh stepped back from Thad’s horse. “Well, we’ll settle that account straightaway. I’m taking five cavalry troops out after them. We’ll be ready to take the field as soon as D and H Troops get here from Fetterman. There’s also some replacements for your troop coming with them. We’ll have two troops from here as well. That ought to be enough to deal with them.” He gave Thad’s horse a pat on the rump. “Go on and get your troop in bivouac. I’ll expect you tonight at supper.” He grinned. “Seven o’clock sharp. That’s an order, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, Sir!” Thad responded smartly and returned Linebaugh’s grin.
After seeing that the troop was settled in, Sergeant Brady made out the duty roster and posted the horse guards. On his rounds through the bivouac area to see that the wounded were taken to the post surgeon, he stopped to talk to Jason. Jason was in the process of making coffee. He had just finished grinding the beans between two rocks, Indian style, and was dusting the last of the grounds off his hands over the pot.
“Set yourself, Brady, and have a cup of good coffee for a change.”
“Well, if them Injuns couldn’t kill me, I s’pect your coffee can’t. I’ll chance it.” He walked over to his own tent and fetched his cup. Jason rolled his saddle blanket out for Brady to sit on. “I noticed you didn’t get invited back to supper with the major and his ladies. What happened last time? You didn’t fart at the supper table, did you?”
Jason laughed. “I think I just wasn’t enough entertainment for Miss Lynch. I guess she just wanted to meet a real by-God Injun fighter and I disappointed her.” He swirled the coffee around in the pot to mix the grounds good, pulling it off the fire just as it started to boil and setting it on the edge to let the grounds settle. “I ain’t ever seen an honest-to-God Injun fighter myself except, maybe, another Injun.”
Brady grunted and held out his cup when Jason offered the pot. “The lieutenant says we’re going out after that bunch you seen on the Powder soon as troops from Fetterman get here. That’ll probably be tomorrow. Hell, I reckon that bunch will be long gone by then, you think?”
Jason shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. They most likely won’t be on the south fork of the Powder, where I saw ’em. But I expect they’ll be somewhere north of there. This time of year, a village that size moves ever’ so often, following the game. I doubt if they’re concerned much about the army bothering them. They most likely won’t be in any hurry.”
* * *
Later that evening, across the parade ground near the officers’ quarters, Thad Anderson dined on stewed chicken and dumplings. Seated to his left, Martha Lynch captured his rapt attention with her girlish enthusiasm for the gallant officers of the U.S. Cavalry. While he genuinely appreciated the opportunity to enjoy chicken, a rare treat on a frontier post, he was finding it difficult to maintain the sophisticated and gallant image he strived to impress upon the young lady. It might have been easier if Florence had fried the chicken. As it was, he found it difficult to attack it with a knife and fork and he hesitated to pick it up with his hands for fear of getting them covered with dripping grease and gravy. Martha seemed to have no trouble with her nice slice of breast, cutting it into neat little pieces and nibbling away without interrupting her conversation. Drumstick and thigh were another matter and Thad struggled to shear off a few bites from the bone.
Florence Linebaugh finally came to his rescue. “For goodness’ sake, Thad, you’re going to starve to death. Pick it up in your hands.”
Thad blushed and mumbled his thanks. He picked up the thigh and quickly chewed the flesh from the bone. Martha smiled her approval and, after he had duplicated the maneuver on the leg, she took her napkin and gently mopped the gravy from his cheeks. Thad felt like a child and his blush deepened in color. She, realizing the effect she had upon him, smiled coquettishly, delighting in her ability to reduce the young lieutenant to a schoolboy.
When the dishes had been cleared away, the men retired to the porch to enjoy a cigar. The major was anxious to talk about the hunting expedition coming up. Thad could understand his friend’s excitement. Robert was the colonel’s adjutant and, as such, his duties had been strictly confined to the administrative operations of the post. Partly because Robert had continuously requested field experience and partly because Colonel Whitman thought his adjutant should have that experience, he was given this command. Although they were several steps apart in rank, Linebaugh knew his young friend had a good deal more experience in the field. For that reason, and because they had become close friends, the major fully intended to consult Thad whenever he had doubts regarding any decision. This was a privilege he could not afford to take with any of the other officers who would be under his command on this patrol.
Thad was fully anxious to be of assistance to his friend but he also realized his limitations regardless of the number of campaigns he had ridden. His foremost advice to Linebaugh was to trust Jason Coles because, when in doubt, he himself would consult Jason.
“Then what you told me earlier, about Coles . . . that was how you really feel? That he was not to blame for leading you into that ambush?”
“Absolutely not,” Thad quickly replied. “If we had known what we were riding into, we would never have charged into that camp like that. We were told we could rely on Walking Crow’s advice. If anyone is to blame, it might be Major Gaston. After all, he sent that damn Judas goat to us with the idea we could trust him.”
“Good.” Major Linebaugh rose and stubbed his cigar out on the porch post. “We’ll have a glorious campaign and show those red savages what it means to defy the U.S. Cavalry.” He turned to look his friend in the eye. “You know, if this campaign goes well, it might go a long way in getting me a field command.”
“I’m sure it will, Robert.” Thad followed his host’s lead and stubbed out his own cigar.
“It’s a beautiful night.” Robert winked as he said it. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Martha might enjoy a walk.” He led the way back inside to join the ladies.
“Thad was just remarking that he thought it a beautiful night to take a walk, Martha, and wondered if you might enjoy taking the evening air.” The major exchanged glances with his wife and received an approving nod.
“Really?” Martha responded and looked up into Thad’s astonished face. “Did you really make that remark, Lieutenant, or did Robert just put the words in your mouth?”
Thad was flustered, not knowing whether to be angry or grateful to his friend. “Why yes . . . I mean, no . . . I mean it would be a nice night for a walk.” He looked down at her beaming face and could feel the crimson creeping around his neck. Her expectant expression should have reassured him. Instead, it fostered a feeling near panic. “Maybe it’s too cool for you. I wouldn’t want to . . .”
She didn’t let him finish. “Why, Lieutenant, are you retracting your invitation?”
“No . . . no, Ma’am.” He flushed totally to the delight of Robert and Florence. He glanced their way for help only to be met with wide grins. He looked back at the young lady still smiling up at him but offering no absolution from his shyness.
“Then you do want me to go for a walk?” she finally asked.
“Yes, Ma’am, I sure do.”
“With you, I presume.” She knew it was mean to tease him but she couldn’t resist it. The man was shy beyond belief.
“Yes, Ma’am, with me.” She turned to get a shawl and he stammered, “Unless I’m being too bold.”
She abruptly turned around to face the flustered young officer. “I declare, have you changed your mind again?”
“Oh, no,” he stammered.
She laughed and patted his hand in an attempt to put him at ease. “I’m going to get a wrap to cover my shoulders. You stand right there and don’t move till I get back.”
Within a few minutes, she returned and he jumped to open the front door for her. Florence Linebaugh gave her sister a knowing nod as she passed through the doorway. Her husband winked at Thad. When they had closed the door, husband and wife looked at each other and laughed. “I certainly hope Lieutenant Anderson is a sight more bold facing the Indians than he is with a woman,” Florence said with a giggle.
* * *
A soft breeze from the prairie drifted across the packed dirt of the parade ground, bringing the lingering aroma of coffee and fried bacon from the mess tent. They had walked in silence after an initial exchange of pleasantries about the weather and the supper just enjoyed. Martha’s step was light and her face seemed to shine in the fading light as, one by one, the stars appeared, soon to take over the night sky. Thad, still recovering from an acute case of sudden awkwardness, walked beside her—rather stiffly—as if his feet were asleep. He was taken with the younger sister of his friend’s wife but he feared his shyness and lack of polish would not see him in good stead with a lady of her obvious breeding. In truth, he would have been equally as shy if walking beside the bawdiest saloon girl in Laramie.
To Martha Lynch, this was an interlude to file away in her scrapbook. The whole adventure was exciting, from the train trip from St. Louis to the rough frontier of Fort Laramie. She would not have missed it for the world. But the visit was becoming dreadfully boring and she was of a mind to return to St. Louis. That is, until the appearance of this young lieutenant a few days before. She had to admit she was attracted to him from the first night when she had evidently offended his friend, Jason Coles. She made a mental note to apologize to Mr. Coles if she had the opportunity. Tonight, she was almost reluctant to acknowledge a growing fondness for Thad Anderson. She must warn herself not to become too infatuated with the handsome young officer, so dashing in his blue uniform trimmed with the yellow cord of the U.S. Cavalry. There could be no harm in an innocent flirtation. She just had to guard against becoming too attracted to him. She had no plans to become attached to a cavalry officer, serving on the western frontier. Her life was back east where she taught school and lived with her parents. She had no desire to complicate her life at this point. Still, he was disarmingly charming in a boyish way and totally guileless.
I’m letting my imagination run away with me, she thought. After all, we’re only taking a walk. He hasn’t proposed marriage for goodness’ sake. She silently scolded herself for letting herself fantasize. In reality, she truly believed she would wilt under western skies. She did not envy her sister’s life on a frontier post. She was not sure she could love a man enough to endure the inconveniences of a cavalry officer’s wife.
Martha seemed to be deep in thought so Thad didn’t say anything for quite some time. They did not touch as they walked past the stables but he could feel the nearness of her. Life as a bachelor officer was a lonely existence for a man as young as Thad. Some of the officers, and quite a few of the enlisted men, took Indian women occasionally. He didn’t blame them, the urge became almost overpowering sometimes, but he could not do it. Now, walking alone with a lovely young woman, his brain was almost dizzy with awakened emotions. He wanted so much to reach out and touch her but his lack of confidence was enough to prevent it. How embarrassed he would be if his advances were met with disdain. So he continued to walk in silence.
Near the end of the stables, they paused before turning back toward the parade ground. She broke the long silence. “The sky is so vast out here in this country. Even with all the sounds of an army post, it seems so still. Don’t you get lonely out here?”
He hesitated before answering. “Yes, Ma’am, I guess I do.” He paused again. “But I guess I didn’t realize how lonely I was until tonight.”
“Really? What a sweet thing to say.”
He felt foolish for blurting out such a boyish statement and wished immediately that he could take it back. He was grateful for the darkness that hid the blush he could feel on the sides of his neck. “I hope I wasn’t too forward in saying that.”
“Oh, Thad, relax. I’m not going to bite you. You’re not being forward at all. I wouldn’t be out here with you if I didn’t want to be.” She reached over and took his hand in hers and they walked hand in hand.
When they got back to the cottage, Thad was prepared to say good night but Martha invited him to sit on the porch for a while. “It’s too nice a night to go inside just yet. Sit down and talk to me for a moment. Tell me about the girl waiting for you back home in . . . wherever.” She pulled him down on the step beside her.
Having been in a relaxed state of near euphoria for the last several minutes when walking hand in hand with her, he was once again flustered. “What? . . . I mean, what girl? There isn’t anyone waiting back home.”
She already knew that. “Where is home? Robert said you are from the South.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Stop calling me Ma’am.”
“Yes, Ma’am . . . Miss Lynch . . . Martha.”
“I do declare,” she exclaimed, shaking her head in amazement. “I thought all soldiers were bold and naughty. I must say you’re somewhat different, Thad Anderson. And don’t go blushing all over yourself again. I mean that in a good way. I’m glad you’re different.”
He didn’t know how to respond to her remarks so there followed a long moment’s silence while his brain settled down. After another moment, he spoke. “Virginia.”
“What?” she asked, puzzled.
“Virginia,” he repeated. “I’m from Virginia.”
After some prodding from Martha, he told her about his boyhood home in the Shenandoah Valley when, as a boy too young to fight when the war came to his peaceful part of the world, he lied about his age and enlisted in the Army of Virginia anyway. He guessed he was one of the lucky ones. He had survived the entire war with only minor wounds and had advanced to the rank of captain. Unfortunately, his formative years were spent on the battlefield and consequently he had no training for any civilian vocation. When he was offered a chance to join the Union Army, he decided it was really the only choice he had.
She listened and, as she listened, she could not help but be drawn closer to this young soldier whom she barely knew before this instant. Careful, she cautioned. Don’t let this starry night and this innocent young man stir feelings you don’t want to generate. But she could not deny the closeness she felt, and without realizing it, she found her hand in his again. She decided it was time to say good night.
He took her arm and saw her to the door, reluctant to let her go. He felt that when she went inside, the door would be closed to him forever—that this evening had been but one lone beam of starlight in his lonely life. “Good night, Martha. Thank you for this evening.”
“Good night, Thad.” She squeezed his hand and started to open the door. Then she paused and asked, “When are you leaving to look for the hostiles?”
“Robert said the other troops should arrive tomorrow. I guess we’ll move out the day after.”
She looked up into his face. “You be careful. I want to see you again.” With that, she reached up and, pulling his head down to her, kissed him, then quickly turned the knob and slid through the door. Outside the closed door, she left a totally amazed and bewildered . . . but exuberant young officer.
* * *
In the early afternoon, the following day, D Troop, with Lieutenant Harry Lassiter in command, and Captain Linus Blevins’ H Troop arrived at Fort Laramie from Fetterman. Riding beside Lieutenant Lassiter, with three Sioux scouts trailing behind him, Simon Bone’s bulk seemed to dwarf the size of the spotted gray Appaloosa he rode. Jason, watching the column of troopers file through the gate, was not overjoyed to see Simon Bone at any time. But he was especially annoyed to see the surly cur perched atop one of his Appaloosas. He had evidently bullied Lassiter into having his choice of the army’s mounts.
“Well, well, looks like you’ll have one of your old sweethearts with us on this campaign,” Sergeant Brady chided as he watched D Troop ride by.
“Looks like,” Jason answered.
Brady roused himself from the steps of the cavalry barracks, where the two had been seated. “I reckon I better go pick up my poor orphans,” he said, referring to the replacements sent to his troop from Fort Fetterman. Jason went to take care of his horses, which he had let out to graze with the army’s mounts. He didn’t care for the fact that the herders had to take the horses out so far away from the fort to find grass. The army did it to help conserve the grain supplies. Jason preferred to feed his horses as little grain as necessary. They were Indian bred and raised and they could live off just about anything. He didn’t want them to get dependent on grain like the army’s mounts.
Major Linebaugh called an officers meeting before the evening meal to discuss plans for the campaign the following day. The chief scouts were asked to attend. The meeting was conducted in the post headquarters by the post commander, Colonel Whitman, and after a general overview of the purpose of the campaign, he turned the meeting over to Major Linebaugh.
Jason, always uncomfortable after spending so much time in a crowd, was anxious to get out on the prairie again. He only halfway listened to Robert Linebaugh as he briefed the other officers on the unsuccessful patrol against the renegade Cheyennes a few days before. From across the room, he could feel Simon Bone’s steely gaze, almost constantly upon him, but he paid no attention to the burly brute. He had other things on his mind, mainly a Cheyenne named Black Eagle. Simon Bone didn’t concern him at the moment.
When the meeting was ended and the officers were filing out to go to the mess tent, the scout from H Troop walked up to Jason, who was still seated in a chair in the corner of the room.
“You’d be Jason Coles I reckon.” The man extended his hand. “I’m Shorty Boyd. Reckon I’ll be working with you some.”
Jason shook the extended hand. It was no puzzle why the man was called Shorty. He was a wiry little fellow, maybe five feet two or three, no taller. Jason guessed him to be sixty years of age at least. It was hard to tell with a man who had spent most of his life on the prairie. He might be a lot younger but sixty was close to his prairie age. All the man’s hair was on his face for there was not a hair left on a pate that was a pale dome topping the otherwise sun-weathered head.
“I heered you done fer that thar Sioux scout, Walking Crow.” Jason did not reply and Shorty continued, “He were a pretty good scout at one time. Heered he led you into an ambush.” He waited expectantly for an explanation.
“You heard right,” Jason replied. “I guess he decided to join the bunch still holding out and maybe he wanted to give ol’ Sitting Bull a present.”
“You done fer him?” Shorty evidently wanted his information confirmed.
“I did,” Jason replied.
Shorty laughed. “Ol’ Bone over thar, he ain’t gon’ be tickled to hear that. Him and Walking Crow was good friends.”
Unmoved by the news, Jason glanced across the room where Bone was still sitting and still glaring at Jason. He looked back at the scrawny little scout before him and asked, “You and Bone big friends?”
“Hell no. Bone ain’t got no friends, ’cept maybe them dang Sioux scouts that follows him around.” He got up to leave. “I heered some good things about you, son. We can work together.”
Jason watched the little man as he went out, then he got up and waited by the door for Thad Anderson. Thad had signaled for him to stay for a moment while he went over some details of the patrol with the major. The briefing finished, Thad joined Jason at the door and they walked out on the porch together.
“Major Linebaugh will be with B Troop at the head of the column tomorrow when we ride out. I’ve suggested to him that you be sent out ahead to find the hostiles since they may have moved their camp.” Jason nodded. This was how he preferred it. “You can take Little Hawk and Cross Bear with you. Is that all right with you?” Jason nodded. “How far ahead of the column do you think you should be?”
“What time is the column leaving?” Jason asked.
“Six,” Thad said.
“I’ll pull out at four.” He turned to leave.
“Jason, don’t get too far ahead of us tomorrow. We’ll be using the other scouts on the flanks but I don’t want to be out of contact with you for too long. All right?”
“All right,” Jason said and turned to leave again, this time to come face-to-face with Simon Bone, who was coming through the door. They stared at each other briefly, eyeball to eyeball, and Jason stepped back to let Bone pass. Bone saw this as backing down and was quick to exploit his advantage.
“You better step outta my way, Coles,” he spat.
Jason looked at him with the same gaze he would use on any pesky varmint. He was not in the mood to play games with a bully the likes of Simon Bone. He met the man’s stare but said nothing. After a tense moment passed, Bone broke it off. Laughing scornfully, he stomped off toward the saloon off post. Jason went in search of his two Crow scouts.
Little Hawk and Cross Bear kept to themselves, always near their ponies. They, like the other Indian scouts, worked for the army but they would never be able to work alongside the Sioux scouts. There was too much bad blood between their tribes. This suited Jason because he never liked hunting Sioux with other Sioux, just as he would prefer not to hunt Crow with Crow. It just wasn’t natural. Walking Crow had proved that to be a fact.
When he found the two scouts, he informed them of their mission and told them to camp with him by the horses that night because he planned to leave before the troops got started in the morning. Little Hawk was openly pleased to be riding out away from the column and told Jason so. Cross Bear, a man who was named appropriately because he never smiled, was also pleased but he merely grunted.
After talking to the Crows, Jason returned to the garrison to get some supper. Walking near the officers’ quarters, he heard his name called. Turning around, he saw Martha Lynch hurrying to meet him from the major’s cottage. “Mr. Coles,” she called, “please wait.”
He paused and watched the slight young lady, running with tiny little steps on her tiptoes, holding her skirts up out of the dust of the parade ground. When she caught up with him, he touched his finger to his hat. “Miss Lynch.”
She smiled brightly, looking into his eyes when she spoke. “Mr. Coles, I think I owe you an apology.” He did not reply, puzzled that she thought so. “I realize now that I rambled on like a silly schoolgirl the other evening at supper and it was inconsiderate of me to press you for stories of Indian fighting. I am sorry. Will you accept my apology for my rudeness?”
Jason was amused. He wondered why the girl bothered. It was of no consequence to him. “No need to apologize, Miss Lynch, I haven’t given it further thought.”
For a brief moment she dropped her flirtatious air and Jason saw a glimpse of a more likable personality. “I just don’t want you to think I’m totally without serious thought,” she said, her voice soft but steady.
He laughed. “I’m sure you have a great many serious thoughts, Miss Lynch. Don’t bother your head about me.” Now, he wondered, are you going to tell me why you really wanted to talk to me? He didn’t have to wonder long.
“I hear you’ll be scouting for Lieutenant Anderson’s troop tomorrow.” He nodded. “I suppose, if you find the hostiles, there’ll be fighting.”
“There generally is.”
“I would imagine it could be very dangerous . . . for all the soldiers, I mean.” Her face reflected a genuine concern.
“It could be.” Jason never counted himself as particularly clever when trying to figure women out but he thought he was beginning to see where this trail was leading. “Miss Lynch, I’ll try to keep an eye on Lieutenant Anderson as best I can.”
She didn’t answer at first, her gaze still steady on his. Then she laughed. “I would consider it a personal favor if you did.” Then, as if regretting that she had revealed too much of her feelings, she attempted to trivialize the issue. “He’s such a nice young man and I know Major Linebaugh thinks so much of him. Of course, I hope you take care of yourself too . . . and the major.”
He couldn’t help but smile at the young lady’s attempt to extricate herself. “Miss Lynch, Thad Anderson is a fine young officer. He don’t need me to look after him in the field. But, for your sake, I’ll see that he gets back here in one piece.”
Disarmed, she grinned impishly. “You don’t have to tell him about our conversation, do you?”
“No, Ma’am.”