The Holy Road

Chapter LXII

General Mackenzie broke off the fight, falling short of but one goal. He had not destroyed the hostiles themselves, an action that would have been in keeping with his orders, but in all other respects he had achieved a significant victory in the great canyon.

Rarely had the general been as enamored of the rank and file as he was following the battle in the canyon. The hundreds of men under him had ridden out the terrible storm and marched all night across the frozen heart of hostile country before scattering the foe and reducing their town to ash.

But as Bad Hand's force marched south the general found himself most pleased in the knowledge that Captain Bradley had succeeded in capturing the entire hostile horse herd, almost a thousand in number; and these animals were being driven in front of him now. Indians without horses were like wagons without wheels, and there was no doubt that the last significant pocket of aboriginal resistance had been shattered. The freezing weather was aggravating the general's many old wounds, but there was no way he would let it reduce his pleasure as the miles between himself and the broken enemy piled up.

What to do with the mammoth horse herd was a piece of unfinished business that he dealt with swiftly and decisively when it was reported at mid-afternoon that the column was being shadowed by fifty or sixty warriors.

The scouts were ordered to locate a dead-end canyon large enough to accommodate the Indian ponies. In less than an hour a suitable place, with high walls on one side and an elevated ridge on the other, was discovered, and Bad Hand ordered the ponies driven inside.

More than a hundred men were ordered to surround the herd. Dozens of cartridge boxes were positioned along the line of soldiers and, as afternoon shadows began to stretch over the cold, brittle landscape, the order to commence firing was given.

At the height of the slaughter, the riflemen had wavered. Some had thrown down their weapons and a few had been overcome with nausea, but the incapacitated were quickly replaced with fresh shooters. The plunging, shrieking mass of ponies diminished rapidly, and by last light, no movement could be discerned in the box canyon now filled with the bodies, two or three deep in some places.

As he was eating dinner, a mixed group of civilians and Tonkawas reported that the hostiles had disappeared, confirming the general's suspicion that they were after the horses, and that night Bad Hand settled into one of the deepest, most peaceful sleeps he had ever enjoyed.

A few scattered and impotent bands might wander the prairie a while longer, but, for all practical purposes, the conquest of the southern plains was complete.