Massacre of Eagles

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Confluence of the Stinking Water and South Fork

Back on the island the next morning, the Indians renewed hostilities. Again, Mean to His Horses sent his men in attacks against Falcon, Coletrain, and the Buffalo soldiers who were defending the island. And again the attack resulted in high cost to the Indians, this time inflicting no additional casualties among the soldiers.

Then, at mid-morning, Mean to His Horses tried a new tactic. He had two of his men bring forth a captive, and they stood just on the bank of the river so the captive could be seen. The captive was clearly a white man, a soldier, because he was in uniform.

“What the hell?” Coletrain said. “What is he doing there?”

“Do you know him?” Falcon asked.

“Yes, sir, I know him. That’s Sergeant Depro. But he is supposed to be back at Fort Keogh. I have no idea what he is doing here.”

“Buffalo Soldiers!” Mean to His Horses shouted across the water. “Leave your guns and go away. I will let you live and I will send the white-eye soldier with you. If you do not leave your guns and go away, I will kill the white-eye soldier, and his death will not be swift.”

“Depro!” Coletrain shouted. “Depro, what are you doing there?”

“Coletrain! Sergeant Coletrain, is that you? Don’t let me die, Coletrain! Me an’ you is friends, ain’t we? We soldiered together! Don’t let me die!”

“Is that man a friend of yours?” Falcon asked.

Coletrain shook his head. “He’s a long way from being a friend,” he said. “But he is a soldier, so it doesn’t matter whether he is a friend or not.”

“Who is your best shot?”

“Well, sir, I don’t mean to brag, none,” Coletrain said. “But that would be me.”

“All right,” Falcon said. He turned to speak to the remaining soldiers, speaking just loudly enough for them to hear him.

“Men, Sergeant Major Coletrain and I are going to take out the two Indians who are holding Depro. I want all of you to pick out one of the other Indians as a target. As soon as we fire, you fire in volley. If we can take down seven or eight of them all at the same time, the rest of them are likely going to pull back, and that will give Depro a chance to come across the river.”

The soldiers all nodded, then got into position and each of them picked out a target.

“You take the one on the left, I have the one on the right,” Falcon said.

“What about Mean to His Horses?” Coletrain asked.

“He’s sitting up on his horse, thinking he is in command,” Falcon said. “But I’m shooting a Winchester, and as soon as we kill the two who are holding Depro, I’ll re-chamber a round and kill Mean to His Horses.”

Coletrain chuckled. “Damn if it ain’t worth gettin’ shot a couple of times, just so’s I can see the expression on ol’ Mean to His Horses’s face when he realizes what’s happened.”

“Take aim,” Falcon said, raising the rifle to his shoulder. “I’ll count to three.”

“Get ready, men,” Coletrain called to the others, as he raised the carbine to his shoulder.

“One, two, three, fire,” Falcon said.

Falcon and Coletrain fired at the same time, their shots followed almost immediately by the rest of the soldiers. The two Indians who were holding Depro fell, as did at least six more Indians. Mean to His Horses was totally shocked, and for just a second, he looked on in disbelief. Then, quickly, he realized what happened and he turned his horse to gallop away, but it was too late. As a coda to the previous volley, one more shot rang out, and Mean to His Horses fell from his saddle.

Depro was as shocked as Mean to His Horses had been, and he was still standing in place.

“Depro, run!” Coletrain said. “Come over here to us!”

Depro started across the water toward the island, and as he did so, the remaining men of Coletrain’s platoon fired a second volley to keep the Indians back. As Depro reached the island, Schuler reached up and pulled him down to safety.

“Thank you,” Depro said. “Thank you. I thought I was a goner for sure.”

“What were you doing with them, Sergeant Depro?” Coletrain said. “I thought you were back at Fort Keogh.”

“I had to go back,” Depro said. “I couldn’t leave the wagon.”

“You couldn’t leave the wagon? What wagon? Leave it where?”

“Sarge! Someone is comin’!” Schuler yelled.

“Get ready men,” Coletrain said.

Once again, the men got into position to repel an attack, then as the body of men grew closer they could be seen riding in column of twos. Also, they saw the red and white guideon fluttering at the head of the column.

“It’s Lieutenant Bond and our men!” Schuler shouted excitedly, and all the men stood then, and began cheering and waving.

“It looks like you men had quite a battle here,” Cody said, taking in all the dead Indians.

“It kept us from getting bored,” Falcon said.

“Damn, I went with the wrong group,” Ingraham said. “I should have been here, where the battle was.”

Cody chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, Prentiss. I’m sure a man with your fertile imagination will be able to compensate.”

Ingraham squinted his eyes for a moment, then suddenly saw the possibility in what Cody said, and he laughed out loud.

“You know, Colonel Cody. I do believe you are right,” he said.

DeMaris Springs bivouac

The wounded and dead were brought back to the Ninth Cavalry bivouac area. One of the wounded, Private Travis Jackson, had died before they could get him back. The remaining wounded were treated by Dr. Urban, who was brought from town by Benteen, just for that cause.

“Did you have a surgeon in the field with you?” Dr. Urban asked as he looked at Sergeant Major Coletrain’s wounds.

“No, sir,” Coletrain said.

The doctor examined the wounds closely. “Well, someone took the bullet out.”

“Yes, sir, that would be Colonel MacCallister.”

Dr. Urban clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Is there nothing that man can’t do? He did as good a job as any surgeon I know.”

Coletrain smiled. “Yes, sir, seemed like he sort of know’d what he was a’ doin’, all right.”

“Sergeant Major Coletrain?” Schuler said, as Coletrain began packing his shirttail back in.

“Yes, Schuler, what is it?”

“I think maybe you had better take a look at the guns.”

“What guns?”

“The guns we picked from back at the island,” Schuler said. “The guns the Injuns was usin’.”

“What about ’em?”

“I think you had better take a look at ’em,” Schuler said.

Benteen was in his command tent having coffee with Falcon, Cody, and Ingraham, when Coletrain stood outside and asked if he could enter.

“Of course you can come in, Sergeant Major,” Benteen replied. “Grab a stool and join us. We’re having coffee and a discussion about you.”

“About me, sir?”

“I’m putting you in for the Medal of Honor,” Benteen said.

Coletrain smiled broadly. “Well, sir,” he said. “Well, now. Yes, sir, that would be quite an honor. Especially since I don’t feel I did anything to earn it.”

“Colonel MacCallister does,” Benteen said. “And I set quite a store in what he has to say.”

“Colonel, I appreciate the kind words,” Coletrain said.

Benteen’s orderly handed a cup of coffee to Coletrain, and he thanked him, then took a swallow.

“Now then, Sergeant Major, you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, sir,” Coletrain said. “Sir, after the fight, several of the men went out onto the battlefield and began gathering up the guns the Indians was usin’. I thought they was all armed awfully well, and now I know why.”

“Why?”

“Here are the serial numbers of three of the rifles.”

Coletrain pulled a little piece of paper from his pocket, then began reading from it. “410543, 410275, 410221.” He stopped reading and looked up at Benteen. “The fact is, Major, every weapon we picked up started with the numbers four one zero. I just read these three because privates Wright, Dunaway, and Karnes recognized them. They are same carbines they were carryin’ before we got the new issue, and was told to turn them in. And seein’ as I made out all the inventories, I remember that all the carbines started with the numbers four one zero.”

“What are you saying, Sergeant Major? Are you suggesting that, somehow, the Indians managed to get their hands on our old weapons?”

“Not, just somehow,” Coletrain said. “I know how they got them.”

“Depro?”

“Yes, sir.”

Benteen nodded, then got up from his stool and walked over to the door. The three soldiers Coletrain had mentioned were standing there, in case they were needed to validate the weapons as having belonged to them. Benteen believed Coletrain, and thus needed no validation. But he did need them for something else.

“Soldiers, find Sergeant Depro and bring him here.”

“Yes, sir,” Dunaway said.

“Under arrest,” Benteen added.

The three soldiers, who had no love lost as to Depro, smiled in anticipation of the assignment.

“In shackles,” Major Benteen added.

“I should have listened to you in the beginning, Sergeant Major,” Benteen said. “You suspected he had stolen the weapons when they disappeared from the arms room, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir, but all it was, was me thinkin’ it. I didn’t have any proof.”

“Well, we do now,” Benteen said.

At that moment, Private Dunaway returned.

“He ain’t nowhere around, sir,” Dunaway said. “Someone said they seen him leave, goin’ toward town.”

“Gentlemen,” Benteen said to Falcon, Cody, and Ingraham. “Would you like to go into town with me?”

Falcon and the others rode into town for the express purpose of finding and placing under arrest Sergeant Lucas Depro, but when they got the town, the reaction of the townspeople was such that they put Depro aside. The town was in a major celebration mode, with the volunteer firemen’s band playing, fireworks exploding, and a general attitude of giddiness.

“What is going on?” Benteen asked someone who was standing on the side of the street, watching all the proceedings

“Ain’t you heard? The Injuns has been whupped.”

“Are they talking about your fight at the island?” Benteen asked Falcon. “How did they find out so fast?”

“Paper! Paper! Get your paper here!” a paperboy was yelling from the corner. “Extra, read all about it! Injun village wiped out!”

“Indian village?” Falcon asked. He shook his head. “Somehow I don’t think they are talking about the island fight.”

Ingraham dismounted, then went over to the paperboy and bought four papers, one for each of them.

EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA

BIG INDIAN BATTLE!

Marvelous Victory!

MANY INDIANS KILLED

TO BUT THREE MILITIA MEN KILLED

Our own brave militia conducted a surprise raid against the Crow Village on the Meeteetsee River last night. The results of the attack were so successful that your humble publisher has seen fit to print this, an extra issue, in order to place all the glorious details of the battle before the eyes of the public.

The attack was carried out by the Wyoming Civilian Militia, organized just for this purpose. In a brilliantly conceived tactical operation, Colonel Pierre Bellefontaine led but twenty men in an attack against three hundred or more armed and wily heathens. Striking in the night, the Wyoming Civilian Militia brought terror into the hearts of the selfsame savages who had but so recently brought terror into the hearts of the hapless white people whom they have so cruelly ravaged in their numerous debaucheries against innocent farmers, ranchers, and homesteaders.

Unwilling to surrender, the savages put up a fierce fight. Bullets were whistling through the night air in their deadly transit as they sought their targets. For hours the battle raged, with the Indians’ terrible screams and war cries renting the air as if the howls came from all the banshees of hell. But through it all, our brave militia men stood their ground, often fighting hand to hand against numbers far superior to their own. Finally, as dawn broke, the village stood quiet and empty, its inhabitants having either fled or now lying dead on the ground.

Huzzahs for Colonel Bellefontaine and his brave militiamen, and plans are now underway to hold a town dance in their honor. All are invited where, we are told, souvenirs and booty taken from the village will be on display.