When I reached her the next morning, Clemmie was already packing her traps onto the kitchen wagon. Sheridan, Custer, and their staffs had cleared out right after supper rather than spend another night in Fort Arroyo.
“There you are,” she said. She sounded mad. “I need to tell you something.”
I peeked around. As usual whenever Clemmie appeared, most of the company flocked around, all of them bobbing their necks about like geese going after June bugs trying to catch a peek of my sister.
I moved in close so she wouldn’t be talking so loud in case she called me “sister” or talked about our mama. We’d spent every second we were free together in the Sergeant’s quarters and some of the men had already started teasing me about my “sweetheart.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I will kill you, strangle you with my own two hands, if you get yourself laid out. You hear me?” Though she spoke hard, tears trembled in her eyes.
“I am not gonna get killed.”
“You might have to go after the renegades. Only the idiot whites believe those bloodthirsty savages see a dime’s worth of difference between white and black. They’ll come after you, Cathy. If they ever get hold of you…” Her anger cooled and she whispered, “A woman? Lord.” She’d heard the stories, too. “Killing’d be the best thing they could do to you.”
“Me?” I said. “Don’t you know I am killproof? Already had one army, one gang of bushwhackers, and one Old Mister try to get the big job done. And they all failed, didn’t they?”
She smiled and hugged me. This last I didn’t resist for every single man gawking at us would of given up his crossed-saber cap for so much as a kind glance from my sister and there she was lavishing me with affection. For them to behold an actual hug and water running from the eye of the prettiest woman in the state on my account? Well, that was sure to do my standing as a man a power of good. With everyone except Vikers, of course. For, there he was, sneaking around as usual, watching our farewell hug with his head tipped to the side, trying to work out what was really going on.
Dust hadn’t settled behind our visitors before the Sergeant passed along Sheridan’s order that we were to “map, blow up, or poison every location where a redskin might get a sip of water.” He read off a list of those he’d chosen for the expedition. To our surprise, me and Lem were on it. It seemed that my “romance” with Clemmie had taken the degenerate stink off me.
I gathered up my gray wool blanket, ground cloth, Spencer carbine, and one-quart canteen. Since it was a warm April with the barrel cactus already dotted with yellow flowers and the prickly pears blossoming pink, all of us on the detachment left our heavy overcoats with their handsome shoulder capes behind.
We were each issued sixty rounds of ammunition and five days’ rations. A pound of hardtack and three-quarters of a pound of salt pork. Knowing how tedious this fare could become, I traded Pinkney two gourds of pulque for a couple of onions and three potatoes. Once we got our personal gear stored, we used every minute of the remaining time overhauling our horses and their gear.
I had Bunny’s saddle and bridle gleaming bright as the day they were issued. And Bunny, herself, I groomed until she was pretty enough for the state fair.
We were ready to take to the field.