Bloodshed of Eagles

Chapter Fifteen

May 27, 1876

The Bighorn Mountains

It was getting dark as Falcon and Dorman followed the path of a swift-running mountain stream. They had been riding in silence for a couple of hours, with the only sound being the scraping of shod hooves on the gravel along the streambed.

Dorman interrupted the silence.

“There’s someone down there,” he said.

“Where?” Falcon asked.

“Down there, in that ravine.” Dorman pointed. “Do you see him?”

“I see something,” Falcon said. “Don’t know if it’s a rider or just an animal. It’s too dark to make out.”

“We’d best keep our eyes open,” Dorman said. “If it’s an Injun and we seen him, then that means he sure as hell has seen us.”

The two men rode on, maintaining their silence. Dorman took a bite of his tobacco twist, then held it out in offer to Falcon.

“Never picked up the chewin’ habit,” Falcon said.

“You’re smart. It’s a nasty habit,” Dorman replied. “Only, when you got a hankerin’ for terbaccy, like now, well, a chaw is a lot better’n a smoke. Injuns can smell terbaccy smoke from a mile away.”

The moon was but a sliver of silver in an overcast sky, making it very dark, too dark to proceed any further. They moved into some trees, tied off their horses, then stretched out on the ground.

“Benteen tells me you were married to a Sioux,” Falcon said.

“Yeah, I was,” Dorman said defensively.

“I was married to a Cheyenne.”

Dorman raised up on his elbows and looked over at Falcon, though in the darkness, Falcon could barely see him. Dorman chuckled.

“I’ll be damn,” he said. He chuckled again. “I should of know’d there was somethin’ I liked about you. That Injun that I was talkin’ to back there? Two Bears? He was my brother-in-law.”

“Too bad.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t much care for the son of a bitch when I was married to his sister.”

“Where are you from, Dorman?”

“If you had asked me that fifteen years ago, I wouldn’t have give you a answer. I would’a figured you was tryin’ to take me back.”

“Take you back?”

“I was borned a slave,” Dorman said.

“I wouldn’t have taken you back.”

“Someone tole me that you was in the Rebel army.”

“I was,” Falcon said. “My brother was in the Yankee army. But the thing is, neither one of us held with slavery.”

“Then how come you fought for the South?”

“There was a lot more to that war than slavery.”

“Not for me, there wan’t,” Dorman said.

“I can understand that.”

“My pap was a Jamaica man. My mammy was a slave woman down in Louisiana for the D’Orman family. When I got old enough—around fifteen or so, I reckon—I just up and run off. I kept on a-runnin’ and a-dodgin’, avoidin’ anyone I thought might be a slave catcher, till finally I wound up out here. Some Sioux found me wanderin’ around in the Paha Sapa, more dead than alive. They took me back to the village with them, fed me, and brought me back to life so to speak. You can understand why I made friends with them.” Dorman chuckled. “They didn’t quite know what to make of me. I was the first colored man any of them had ever seen. They called me ‘Black White Man.’” Dorman laughed. “Black White Man,” he repeated. “But I don’t reckon bein’ called a white man would have got me into any restaurants back where I come from. Anyhow, I married up with a Sioux woman, stayed with her till she up an’ died on me. Then, didn’t really feel like stayin’ with the Injuns any longer, so I left. I started carryin’ mail, choppin’ and sellin’ wood, until the gen’rul hired me to do some scoutin’ for him. Lots of folks don’t know this, Falcon, but them soldier boys only get thirteen dollars a month. Do you know how much money I get?”

“I don’t have any idea.”

I’m getting a hunnert dollars a month. Can you imagine that? A colored fella like me, gettin’ a hunnert dollars a month?”

“That’s a lot of money, all right,” Falcon agreed.

“Yes, sir, it is. ’Course, the question is, is it enough money to get myself kilt over?”

“Do you think that is likely?” Falcon asked.

“I don’t know,” Dorman answered. “If I didn’t tell you I was a site more fearful ’bout this particular scout than any other’n I been on, I’d be lyin’ to you.”

“What makes you fearful?”

“Even before we left Ft. Lincoln to come on this scout, I seen me a couple of Injuns that I know,” Dorman said. “They say there’s a feelin’ runnin’ amongst the Injuns that somethin’ big is goin’ to happen. It’s like Two Bears told me. They’re actually plannin’ to run all the white men out of Montana and Dakota territory. I don’t mind tellin’ you that I don’t feel none too particular good about this.”

“That’s funny,” Falcon said. “Libbie Custer has the same feeling.”

“When women has feelin’s like that, you ought to pay attention to ’em,” Dorman said. “Lots of times, women just knows more than men.”

“I wouldn’t want to argue with that,” Falcon said. He yawned. “But are we goin’ to talk all night, or get some sleep?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m going to get some sleep,” Dorman replied. “And if you answer me this time, you’ll be talkin’ to yourself.”

May 28, 1876

Both men slept well, and both were awake by sunrise the next morning. After a cold breakfast of jerky and water, they saddled up and got under way, riding as alertly as possible. As they approached each knoll, one of them would dismount and hand the reins of his horse to the other, then go up to the top of the knoll to have a look around before riding over it. They had been taking turns doing that all morning, and this time it was Dorman’s turn. Dismounting and giving his horse over to Falcon, the scout moved cautiously to the top. There, he got down on his stomach, took off his hat, and rose up to have a quick look over the crest.

Then, suddenly, Dorman spun around and, bending low, ran back to his horse.

“We’ve got to get out of here, now!” Dorman said. Leaping into the saddle, he turned his horse back down the trail and lashed it into a gallop.

Falcon followed without question, and the two horses raced toward a bluff that was some distance ahead of them. Not until they reached the bluff did they dismount and pull their horses in behind some trees.

“Tie ’em off and come up here and have a look,” Dorman said.

Falcon did as Dorman suggested, and no sooner did he reach the top than he saw what had Dorman spooked. There were scores upon scores of Indians, at least one hundred and maybe more. They were now where Falcon and Dorman had been but a few moments earlier, and as the Indians advanced down the side of the knoll, they were scattered out all across the valley, as if they were looking for something.

Suddenly, one of the Indians stopped and stared at the ground. Calling one of the other Indians over, he pointed to the ground, and a few others came over as well. For a moment, they appeared to be talking excitedly among themselves, though they were too far away from Falcon for him to hear.

“They’ve spotted our trail,” Falcon said.

“They have that all right,” Dorman replied. “And they are going to be on us like a fly on shit if we don’t get out of here.”

“Let’s go,” Falcon said, turning toward his horse.

“Wait,” Dorman said. He pointed to a nearby mountain. “Let’s go that way.”

“You know that way?”

“Yeah, I’ve hunted there. It will be rough for the horses, but I think we can make it. And even if the Injuns follow us, there are so many of ’em that they can’t all come through at the same time, and the ones that have to hold back are goin’ to slow the other ones down.”

“Good idea,” Falcon said.

The two men started out at a trot, taking advantage of the flat ground while they could. By the time they reached the base of the mountain, the Indians had discovered them and, though they were still some distance away, they were coming up hard and fast.

The mountain looked very close, but Falcon had spent his entire life in mountains, and he well understood the illusion of a mountain being much farther away than it appeared to be. Not wanting to overtax the horses, they trotted, galloped, and walked, reaching the actual mountain after about eight miles. But by the time they were actually at the foot of the mountain, the horses were beginning to tire from their long flight.

“If we don’t give these horses a blow, we’re going to kill them,” Falcon said.

“I think you are right,” Dorman replied. “All right, we’ll let ’em take a break.”

The two men dismounted. Falcon took off his hat, poured some water from his canteen into it, then held the hat in front of the horse. The horse began drinking thirstily.

“As I recall, we are some distance away from water right now,” Dorman said. “Could be you’re goin’ to need that water for yourself.”

“I’m going to get thirsty, that’s for sure,” Falcon replied. “But I can take it better than the horse. I can’t have him going out on me now.”

“Yeah,” Dorman said. He took off his own hat. “Yeah, I reckon you would be right about that.”

Like Falcon, Dorman gave his horse some water. Then both men unsaddled their mounts and for the next few minutes, allowed the horses to crop the nearby grass.

At the end of half an hour, they put the saddles back on, and had just finished when Falcon saw the Indians closing fast.

“There they are!” he shouted. “We have to get out of here!”

Falcon and Dorman swung into their saddles, just as a volley of shots rang out.

“Quick, into that timber!” Falcon shouted, pointing to a nearby thicket. “It’s our only chance!”

The two riders wheeled toward the timber that lay to their left. Falcon’s horse was hit by a bullet. It stumbled, and nearly went down, but recovered and continued to run, keeping pace with Dorman’s mount despite its wound. There were so many Indians that, even though they were shooting as individuals, it was almost as if they were firing in volley. Fortunately, because they were shooting from horseback, the firing, though intense, was very inaccurate.

Just as they reached the timber, Dorman’s horse was also hit, and it was limping badly as it carried Dorman into the woods. Once inside the tree line, Falcon and Dorman hastily dismounted at the edge. There, they drew their long guns and began firing back. Dorman had the Henry Falcon had given him, and so was able to maintain a high rate of fire. But the bullet that had hit Falcon’s horse had also shattered the chamber of his own Henry.

Tossing the useless Henry aside, Falcon drew his pistol and took aim at one of the Indians who had come closer. He fired, and the Indian tumbled from his saddle. Although there were only two of them against at least four score Indians and more, Falcon and Dorman’s fire was so accurate that, within a few moments, at least ten of the Indians lay dead or dying on the field. The rest of the Indians withdrew from immediate pistol range, but they didn’t leave the field of battle. Instead, they just gathered on the other side of the open area, out of range, not only of Falcon’s pistols, but of Dorman’s rifle.

“Look there, Falcon,” Dorman said, pointing. “Ain’t that Cut Nose there leadin’ ’em?”

“Yeah, that’s him all right,” Falcon said.

“Next time them heathen bastards come across, let’s make particular sure that we kill that son of a bitch,” Dorman said. “Him bein’ the leader, if we kill him, it might take some of the fight out of the rest of ’em.”

“We’ll have to get him into range,” Falcon said. “If he stays back there and directs the fight, we’ll never get a chance at him.”

“Oh, I’ll get the son of a bitch into range all right,” Dorman said.

“How are you going to do that?”

“I’m going to use you as bait,” Dorman said.

Falcon chuckled. “I’m not sure I’m all that excited about being used as bait, but I have to admit that I’m interested in seeing how you are going to do that.”

“I’m going to speak the words in English first, so you’ll know what I’m saying,” Dorman said. “Then I’m going to shout them out in Lakota.”

“All right, go ahead,” Falcon invited.

Dorman nodded, then cupped his hands around his mouth to yell.

“Cut Nose! The white man who killed your brother is here! He is waiting for you!” Dorman shouted. Then he repeated the shout in the guttural Lakota language.

Cut Nose shouted back.

“Black White Man. We fed you when you were hungry. We gave you blankets when you were cold. You married one of our women and your children live with us now. You were our blood brother. Why do you fight with Tall Warrior against us? You have betrayed us. When we catch you, we will show you our anger!”

“Well, it appears you have a name,” Dorman said. “You are Tall Warrior.”

“I guess I could have a worse name,” Falcon replied.

“They think I betrayed them,” Dorman said.

“This is just a guess, but I’d say they are pretty mad at you,” Falcon said.

Despite the tenseness of the moment, Dorman laughed. “You’re right,” he said. “But so far ole’ Cut Nose ain’t mad enough to come out on his own. I guess I’m going to have to try again.”

Again, Dorman cupped his hands around his mouth and called out loudly.

“Cut Nose, I speak for Tall Warrior who does not know our tongue! Tall Warrior says that Running Bear died a coward! Tall Warrior, believes you are a coward!”

Again, Dorman translated his challenge into Lakota, and it was answered almost immediately.

“Tall Warrior is the coward. He will not meet me in the test. I will kill Tall Warrior, then we will kill you, White Black Man. We will let the women roast you as if you are a buffalo hump.”

“Do you think he really would meet me in a fair fight?” Falcon asked.

Dorman shook his head. “Any other time he might,” Dorman said. “But I think if you showed yourself now, they would kill you.”

“Tall Warrior says he will not fight a coward,” Dorman shouted. “Tall Warrior says to send your women after us. Your women are braver than you are!”

“Ayieee! Tell Tall Warrior it is a good day for him to die. It is a good day for you to die!”

“Well, I think we did it,” Dorman said with a chuckle. “Ole’ Cut Nose is so mad now that he can barely breathe. I reckon they’ll be comin’ after us now. When he does, all we got to do is shoot the son of a bitch.”

“Good job, Dorman. But wait until he gets into pistol range,” Falcon replied. “With both of us shooting, the chances of getting him are a lot better.”

“Right,” Dorman said, cocking his rifle, then holding it barrel-up as he as waited.

They didn’t have to wait long. A moment later, cries and war whoops echoed across the field as the Indians came dashing toward them. Falcon waited, listening to the rolling thunder of the horse hooves and watching the cloud of dust billowing up behind them, as the Indians galloped across the plain, rapidly closing the distance between them.

“Let me know when you think he’s in your range,” Dorman called, having to raise his voice to be heard over the drumming hoofbeats.

“Now!” Falcon shouted.

Both Falcon and Dorman fired, and Cut Nose went down. The others, seeing that, brought their horses to an abrubt halt, then turned and galloped back to the shelter of the rocks and trees.

“By damn, I don’t reckon Cut Nose is goin’ to be leadin’ ’em on any more charges,” Dorman said as the two of them looked out at the Indian’s body, lying no more than fifty yards away. The rest of the Indians were at least fifty yards beyond Cut Nose’s body, and were still riding hard to get out of range.

“How much ammunition you got left?” Falcon asked.

“I don’t know—maybe twenty or so shells. What about you?”

“Just what’s in my pistol,” Falcon said. “You may as well take the ammunition that’s in my saddlebag. It’s for the Henry, and the one I’ve got is worthless.”

“We aren’t going to be able to hold off many more charges like that one we just faced,” Dorman said.

One of the Indians started yelling something.

“Damn, so much for the idea that killing Cut Nose would send them home,” Dorman said.

“What did he say?”

“He said they are comin’ after us. We’re goin’ to have to get out of here.”

“Yeah, well, we aren’t going to go far on these horses,” Falcon said. “Both of them are pretty badly wounded.”

“You’re right,” Dorman replied. “But we still have to get out of here. You got ’ny suggestions?”

Falcon looked at the steep mountain behind them. “Have you ever been on the other side of this mountain?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s on the other side?”

“Another mountain.”

“And then?”

“Another mountain.”

“All right, after we get over all the mountains, what is there?”

“The Little Missouri River.”

“Isn’t that where Custer is supposed to be?”

Dorman smiled. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, he is. Hell, if we could get over these mountains, we could join back up with him.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

“How are we goin’ to go?” Dorman asked. “There is no pass here. There is no way the horses could make it over these mountains, even if they was both healthy, which they ain’t. Hell, my horse is barely standin’ as it is.”

“Yeah, I know,” Falcon replied. “But if our horses couldn’t make it, even they were healthy, then that means the Indians’ horses can’t make it either. And if we get a head start on them, we’ll have the advantage over them. We’ll go by shanks mare.”

“It’s goin’ to be one hell of a walk, Falcon, my friend, but I’m game if you are,” Dorman said. “But what do you mean head start? They aren’t more than three or four hundred yards behind us. That sure as hell ain’t much of a head start.”

“We’ll fire a few shots before we leave. The Indians don’t know our horses are wounded. If we leave the horses here, that might convince the Indians that we’re still here, just waitin’ under cover till we get a good shot, the way we did with Cut Nose.”

“Yeah,” Dorman agreed. “Yeah, your idea just might work at that.”

“Fire a couple of shots at them, and let’s go.”

Both Dorman and Falcon fired a couple of shots each. Then they moved through the back of the little copse of trees where they had taken their stand, rushed through the bushes, ran over pebbles and past rocks and boulders, until they started climbing. Below them, they heard the Indians firing at long range. Then they heard shouts and a furious fusillade of shots as the Indians made their final rush.

“Those are going to be some mad Injuns,” Dorman said, puffing with the exertion of climbing.

Falcon laughed. “Damn, Dorman, you mean they weren’t already mad?”

The two men climbed for the rest of the day, reaching the highest peak in the entire range. Once there, they looked back. From this vantage point, they could see for miles.

“Holy shit! Look at that!” Dorman said, pointing.

Falcon didn’t need it pointed out to him. He saw exactly what Dorman was pointing at. He could see hundreds, perhaps thousands of Indians. These weren’t the Indians who were chasing them; these were other Indians, not only warriors, but Indian ponies pulling lodge poles, accompanied by women and children, moving along several different trails, separated from each other, but all going in the same general direction.

“Have you ever seen that many Indians at one time?” Falcon asked.

“No, sir, I have not,” Dorman said. “Two Bears was right. These Injuns is comin’ from ever’where.”

“We have to tell Custer about this. I don’t think he has any idea what he’s letting himself in for.”

“You don’t really know the gen’rul all that well, do you?” Dorman asked.

“I haven’t known him very long. Why do you ask?”

“’Cause it ain’t goin’ to make no never mind what we tell him. He has his mind made up to go after the Injuns, and that’s exactly what he’s goin’ to do, no matter how many of ’em there is.”

“Well, we’ll just have to convince him,” Falcon said.

For the next three days, Falcon and Dorman climbed mountains, reaching the top of one, only to see another to be negotiated, and another after that. They had taken their canteens and what rations they could carry with them, but by the third day, they had neither food nor water left, and they were exhausted. To make matters worse, they saw no game at these elevations.

“We’re goin’ to have to stop here for a while,” Dorman said. “I don’t think I can go any farther.”

Dorman sat down, then pulled off his shoes and socks. His feet were covered with blisters.

“Look at that,” he said. He lay back. “You go on if you can,” he said. “I reckon I’m just goin’ to lay here till I die.”

“Isaiah, we’ve come this far,” Falcon said. “We can’t give up now. We don’t have any food, we don’t have any water, we’ve got to go on.”

“It’s comin’ on nightfall,” Dorman said. “I reckon if we’ll just spend the night here—maybe get a little rest, I’ll be ready to go on come mornin’.”

“All right,” Falcon agreed. “The truth is, I could use a little rest myself. We’ll spend the night here.”

They bivouacked under some overhanging rocks on the top of one of the highest peaks in the Bighorn range. During the night, the temperature fell very near to the freezing point. The conditions for Falcon and Dorman were miserable, because neither of them had anything more than the clothes on their back. A cold, heavy rain fell, whipped by a roaring wind that uprooted trees by the hundred. The two men spent a miserable, sleepless night.

June 1, 1876

On the morning of June 1, they found a trail that made walking a little easier than what they had been used to, so they were able to make better time on this day. Dorman estimated that they only had about twenty miles to go now, and because the trail was not as steep, it would not be as hard as the first part of their journey. However, as they were much weaker than they had been when they started the ordeal, they were not able to take as much advantage of the easier trail as they thought.

When they reached the bottom of this hill, though, they found a stream and they drank thirstily.

“Look there,” Falcon said, pointing to a large fish that was floating just under the surface. Falcon leaned over the bank, studied the fish for a moment, then stabbed his hand down into the water and flipped the fish up onto the bank. The fish began flopping around, trying to work its way back to the water, but Dorman was able to stop it.

A moment later, Falcon pulled another one out, and soon, Dorman had both fish speared on a couple of sticks and stuck down into the ground, close enough to a fire to roast.

They had just finished their meal when they saw two soldiers on horseback.

“Hold on there!” Falcon shouted to them.

The two soldiers were startled and they swung toward Falcon and Dorman with their pistols in their hands.

“Ease up there,” Falcon said. “We’re scouting for the Seventh, and we’ve lost our horses.”

“How do we know who you are?” one of the soldiers asked.

“I think they’re tellin’ the truth, Russell, I’ve seen the colored man before,” the other soldier said. “I know he’s with the Seventh.”

“All right,” Russell said. “What are you two doing out here?”

“We’re trying to get back to the regiment,” Falcon said. “We ran into some Indians and lost our horses. And we’d appreciate it if you would ride back, then return with a couple of mounts for us.”

“We’re bivouacked only about five miles back,” Russell said. “You could walk it in under an hour.”

“Sonny, we’ve walked and clumb, and clumb and walked, for nigh on to fifty miles now,” Dorman said. “And we ain’t in the mood to walk another fifty yards. Just go back there an get us them horses like the man said.”

“All right. You two wait right here.”

“How long will it take you?”

“I figure we’ll be back in about an hour,” Russell said. “Maybe a little less.”

As the two young troopers rode off, Falcon and Dorman found a place under a tree where they could sit and wait.

“You know what I’m goin’ to do when this here scout is over?” Dorman asked.

“What’s that?”

“I’m goin’ to go back to Louisiana and look up my mammy. That is, if she’s still alive. I reckon the fact that I run away as a slave won’t be held ag’in me now.”

“No, I don’t think it will,” Falcon said.

“I’ve got me some money, too,” Dorman said. “Don’t hardly nobody know this, ’cause I ain’t never told no one about it before. But the truth is, I got me near ’bout five thousand dollars of money I’ve saved up over the years. I figure, if I can go back to Louisiana and find my mammy, I can more’n likely get me and her a place to live and just spend the rest of my days down there.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Falcon said.

“I tell you what, Falcon. When I get me a place down there, you’ll have to come to Louisiana and pay me a visit some time.”

“I may just do that,” Falcon said.

“One thing about Louisiana. There ain’t no Injuns down there wantin’ to lift my scalp. And another thing good is, it don’t never snow. And if I don’t never see me no snow no more, why, I wouldn’t miss it none at all.”

“If you do find your mother, I’m sure she will be very proud of you,” Falcon said. “To start out as you did, you have made a good life for yourself.”

“I have at that, haven’t I?” Dorman agreed. He sat up and stretched. “I wonder how much longer before them soldier boys get back.”

“He said they’d be back inside an hour,” Falcon said. “It hasn’t been an hour yet.”

About five minutes later, they heard a whistle.

“There they are!” Dorman said. “Never thought I’d feel this good about seein’ a bunch of soldier boys, but I’m right proud to see these troopers.”

True to his word, Russell had returned in less than an hour. Lieutenant Weir was with him, along with ten other troopers. There were also two extra horses, as well as some roasted elk and biscuits.

“The gen’rul’s girl, Mary, made these biscuits this mornin’, and she said she thought you might like them,” Lieutenant Weir said. He smiled at Dorman. “I think she’s got her cap set for you, Dorman. When she heard you were out here, she made certain I brought some of her biscuits.”

Dorman ate one of the biscuits ravenously. “Lieutenant, you tell Mary if we can find us a preacher, I’ll marry her before we even get back to the fort.”

Weir laughed. “I wouldn’t make any promises to her of that nature, Dorman. I think she would take you up on it. Then you would have the general upset with you for taking his cook away from him.”