1882: Custer in Chains

by Robert Conroy

  Several cannons boomed from the American positions. The taking of Matanzas had not presented the Spanish with the complete victory they’d wanted. Cannons from Mount Haney and from the mouth of the bay covered most of the distance between the two points, which kept the Spanish from fortifying what they’d taken. Word had come that, after recovering the dead and wounded under yet another flag of truce, the Spanish had apologized for bombarding the hospital. They claimed that they’d been told that the church had been fortified. The apology had been accepted even though no one believed it. The Red Cross symbol had been prominently displayed on all sides of the building.

  Benteen continued. “I also like the way you’ve established tracks and trails so you can move your big guns and your Gatlings quickly. You mass those things against a Spanish attack and the greasers won’t like it.”

  Ryder wanted to light a cigar, but he only had a couple left and didn’t feel like sharing them with Benteen. “The Spanish don’t like being called greasers.”

  “Who cares what the Spanish think?”

  “One more question. When Hancock arrives with an additional fifteen thousand or so men, where the hell are we supposed to put them?”

  Benteen sighed, “Beats the hell out of me, Martin. Now be a good boy and give me one of those cigars you’re hiding, because I’m not leaving until I get one.”

  * * *

  Hector Rojas was a big man in many ways. Physically huge, he was an important part of Mercedes de Milan’s household. In many ways he was its leader, and not just because he occasionally shared his mistress’s bed. He was far smarter than his brutish looks, which sometimes fooled people, often to their permanent loss.

  Nor was Hector the jealous type. He knew his place. He fully accepted that Mercedes’ current number-one lover was the British diplomat, Redford Dunfield. This slightly surprised him because Dunfield seemed to be more than a little effeminate. Perhaps he had hidden skills or more subtle ways of satisfying Mercedes, he thought with a smile. No matter. Mercedes de Milan was approaching old age with ill grace and fear and this had made her sexually insatiable. She was deathly afraid that no one would want her when her looks faded. When Dunfield or a predecessor was not available to serve her, Rojas was. She also tipped well after each session and, as a result, he’d accumulated a significant amount of money.

  One of his duties was to ensure that all was safe and secure in the de Milan compound. Hector knew that the two lovers who occupied the cottage were in danger from the skinny woman’s husband, Gilberto Salazar. On occasion Rojas had walked by the cottage and seen them naked through a window. Juana Salazar did not arouse him although he conceded that she would do in a pinch. She was just too thin for his tastes.

  Regardless, she and her American lover were Mercedes’ guests and were to be protected. Hector liked to wander the compound at odd times just to see what might be afoot. By staggering his patrols, he hoped to confuse anyone who might want to break in and harm the lovers. It also kept his other guards on their toes.

  This night was cloudy and there were few shadows. In a couple of hours, false dawn would rise. He was reacting to information from an informer in Salazar’s legion that there would be an attempt on the lives of the two guests. The darkness smelled of danger and that excited him. He moved around the compound’s perimeter with surprising grace and silence. He liked to think of himself as a large predator cat like the pictures of lions and leopards he’d seen in books in Mercedes’ extensive library.

  Hearing something, he paused. The compound was close enough to the city to pick up numerous background noises. There was a pattern to these sounds, even when punctuated by the odd shout or scream, or the occasional gunshot. What he was listening for was the sound of footfalls, or bushes and leaves being brushed against by something that shouldn’t be there. He knew enough to identify and ignore the sounds of dogs or cats or even rodents. They did not concern him.

  He heard something once more and froze. He heard it again and decided it wasn’t an animal, at least not a four-legged one. He moved stealthily towards the sound, keeping it between him and the cottage. As he generally did, he had a large hammer in his hand and he handled it like a twig. One side was flat for pounding, while the other was wedge-shaped and good for crushing. He had a knife and a pistol in his belt, but his usual weapon of choice was the hammer. A gun made too much noise, and a knife was messy and often did not kill or even disable immediately. Even slicing a man’s throat did not necessarily bring immediate death. The victim could flop and make noises for some time and be bleeding all over the place.

  However, even a glancing blow from the hammer would shatter bones and cause shock, while a direct blow was usually fatal, at least when he swung it with blinding speed.

  Rojas smelled blood. He moved cautiously and found the body of one of his guards. He swore softly. The boy had only been fifteen and now he was dead. He had volunteered to be a guard to prove his manhood and earn a little extra money and now he was dead. His head had been bashed in and his throat had been skillfully sliced open.

  Rojas smiled tightly and moved closer to the lovers’ cottage. The two men he’d sensed and now could see were concentrating on their approach to the cottage and paying no attention to what was happening behind them. Fools, he thought. As he stalked them he noted that each had a revolver in his waistband. Dangerous fools, he amended. He could call the alarm and others would come to his aid, but that would take a few precious minutes during which he could be shot. No, he would solve this himself and there would be no gunfire.

  The two intruders were so preoccupied that he got within a few feet of them before he launched his bulk at them with fearful speed. He struck the first with the hammer and the man’s skull shattered with a sickening sound, like a melon dropping on cement. He whirled and struck at the second man who was only beginning to turn with a look of puzzlement on his face. The hammer struck him between the eyes, killing him instantly.

  Rojas breathed deeply and looked around. He had disturbed no one. He threw the bodies over his shoulder, walked to the stable and dumped them into a cart. After covering the corpses with a blanket and some straw he walked to the main house and entered through the servant’s entrance. He was pleased to see that the Englishman was not present. That made things so much simpler.

  He entered Mercedes’ bedroom and awakened her. She was used to the touch of his hand and did not startle. As usual, she had been sleeping naked and made no effort to more fully cover what he had seen so many times before. Nor was she shocked by what he told her. An attack on the lovers had been expected.

  “What will you do with the bodies?”

  “At dawn, when the curfew is over, I will take them a few miles out of town and dump them in a field. It will be a while before anyone notices them, if ever, and by then they will be unrecognizable. Not even their mothers will know them.”

  Mercedes shuddered at the thought of the intruders being eaten by birds and animals and insects and bloated by the sun, but it had to be done. Other things had to be done as well. She could not allow Gilberto Salazar or his men to enter her property and murder people. He had crossed a line.

  She handed him a corner of the light blanket that only partly covered her. He grinned and gently pulled it off her. Her beauty might be fading, but she was still highly desirable.

  She smiled and held out her hand. He grasped it and she pulled him down to her. She had never had sex with a man who had just killed on her behalf and it thoroughly excited her. “You have done so very well, Hector Rojas, that I think you deserve a very great reward.”

  * * *

  Jesus, thought Kendrick. He was too stunned to return to bed where Juana slept peacefully. He hadn’t been able to sleep and had gone to a window simply to look around. Even though he loved Juana and loved being with her, he was getting bored and needed to get near where the story and the action were. Thus, he’d seen the two men approaching. He’d been about to awaken Juana and make a run for the main h
ouse when a massive bulk had surged over the intruders like a wave, knocking them down with wickedly fast swings of a hammer. He recognized Rojas by his size. He’d seen the man around many times. Kendrick had kept on cordial terms with him and was now very thankful he had.

  Kendrick also understood what would happen to the bodies. They would disappear and never be found. He would have to find a way of thanking Rojas. He had a feeling that both Rojas and Mercedes would deny that anything like what he’d seen had ever happened and he was fine with that. Still, he had to let them know of his appreciation. Rojas had just saved his and Juana’s lives.

  He walked softly back to bed, although he wondered if he would ever be able to get to sleep again. Next, he wondered if they should move to a more secure location. But to where, he wondered. If he could get the two of them back to the American lines, perhaps they’d be safe there. But maybe they’d be safe nowhere with Gilberto Salazar still in the picture. How could the man be so jealous of him when he’d thrown Juana at him? The man was mad, that was why. After hating and discarding Juana, he was now obsessed with no one else possessing her.

  Perhaps they should move to the main house. There wouldn’t be as much privacy, but they would be safer. No, he had to find a better, safer place for them. He could not leave Havana until the war was over. The story of a lifetime, maybe several lifetimes, was unfolding before his eyes. Word had come that the relief force had sailed from Charleston and the people of the city of Havana were tense and confused. Either Cuba was going to be free of Spain or the United States was going to suffer an ignominious defeat. Either way, he would be in Havana.

  * * *

  Ruta looked at the fresh grave. The mound of raw earth was the final resting place of Nurse Ethel Carmody. Her shattered and nearly headless body had been recovered during a truce and quickly buried. She was the first of the volunteer nurses to die. With the exception of Nurse Atkins who had lost her arm, none of the others had even been wounded. Bumps, cuts and bruises, yes, but nothing serious had occurred to them.

  “Doctor Desmond gave a wonderful eulogy for her, didn’t he?” commented Ruta. Desmond had moved from the head of the bay to Mount Haney. It was a clear indication that a major Spanish move was likely.

  “Too bad so much of what he said wasn’t true,” said Sarah.

  Ruta agreed. “I know. He said she was a marvelous nurse, which she wasn’t, and a gentle, loving human being who was cherished by everyone, which she also wasn’t. Too bad I couldn’t believe a word of what he said. Carmody was a wretched person.”

  “Never speak ill of the dead,” said Sarah. “No matter how miserable they were in their lifetimes, they were always faithful husbands and wives, loving brothers and sisters, and devoted friends. Eulogies are never about the truth.”

  Ruta laughed bitterly. “My father beat us with his fists and a cane he kept for that purpose, and his brother tried to rape me. I told my father about his brother and dear father said I must be lying. He beat me again for slandering his dear brother. I hope both of them are dead and burning in hell. That would be my eulogy.”

  “I had an uncle who kept trying to run his hands up my dress,” said Sarah. “I told my father and he beat him up very badly. It slowed him down but didn’t stop him. I just learned to be more agile. He died a couple of years ago. Everyone cried and said what a saint he’d been in life. I felt like desecrating his grave. I was going to go to his grave at night and urinate on it. I couldn’t because I was afraid of cemeteries in the night.”

  Ruta agreed. “I think we all have eulogies we’d like to give, but won’t. Carmody wasn’t perfect, but she was here and she was trying her best.”

  Sarah agreed. “On the other hand, Nurse Carmody didn’t deserve to die like she did. There’s going to be at least one more battle and it’s entirely possible that some of us might fall. Martin says there’s no way the Spanish can make any guarantees about our safety. We are all jammed in so close here that there is no real safety. We’ve dug caves and bunkers and all that means is that we might be buried alive during a bombardment.”

  Ruta sighed. “You are so cheerful today. You and Martin need to be alone for a few minutes to calm yourselves down like Haney and I have been.”

  Sarah was astonished. “Have you really managed to be alone with your beloved sergeant up here on this wretched hill? Where on earth did you ever find the time and space for such an encounter?”

  Ruta grinned wickedly. “If you have the time you can always find the space. And it doesn’t have to take all that much time. And we’d better get used to not having much space. When the relief army gets here, our forces will almost double. As they say, one should make hay while the sun shines.”

  Sarah laughed and made a note to seek out Martin. There was a pause in the fighting as the two sides shifted and jockeyed for advantage. Perhaps they could find a few moments to be alone before Matanzas was even more jammed with American soldiers.

  But then she had a thought and she recalled what Martin had said. He had wondered aloud just why everyone thought the relief army was coming to Matanzas.

  * * *

  General Weyler rode down the line to meet with his senior field officers and made the dramatic announcement that the American reinforcements were on their way. “Our future is spelled out for us. If Cuba is to remain Spanish, then the American force at Matanzas must be expelled. We must defeat the Americans before their reinforcements can land and the two groups unite. We will attack in overwhelming force and ferocity and destroy them.”

  He paused dramatically and looked at the assembly. “For King and Spain,” he yelled dramatically. “For King and Spain,” several score voices echoed. It did not escape Weyler’s notice that not everyone had cheered and some of those had been lacking in enthusiasm and lustiness. They were clearly horrified at the thought of again attacking the wire and the machine guns. The guns and the wire had neutralized Spain’s advantage in numbers.

  Weyler departed and the group disbanded to return to their units and inspire them to make the ultimate sacrifice required in storming the American fortifications. Gilberto Salazar, however, had that and other things on his mind. Clearly, the two men he’d sent to kill Juana and Kendrick had failed. Either that or they’d taken the money he’d given them in advance and disappeared, which he considered unlikely. He hadn’t given them all that much money. The bulk of the cash was to be their reward when they were successful. Therefore, they had lost in an encounter with whoever was protecting the slut and her lover, and he assumed that it had been Mercedes’ tame bear of a man named Hector Rojas.

  It infuriated him that, with the Americans approaching the horizon, there wouldn’t be another opportunity to kill them until the battle and perhaps the war was decided. The bitch would continue to live and spread her skinny legs for Kendrick. Sometimes he recalled that he had started the farce, but he dismissed it. No wife of his would have taken him seriously when he told her to sleep with another man. No, he had been betrayed by her and her lover.

  Gilberto had a most pleasant thought. When he was victorious and a hero, he would kill Kendrick with his bare hands and then turn Juana over to his troops and the hell with her uncle the bishop. He was going to burn in hell for all he’d done so what did offending a prince of the church matter?

  * * *

  George Armstrong Custer took a last sad look at the bottle of rum. There was about an inch in the bottom and instead of swallowing it, he poured it out a window and onto some flowers, belatedly wondering if the alcohol would kill the flowers. In a way he was grateful nobody had been able to get him any bourbon. It would have been wasted. The decision to stop drinking might have been even more difficult.

  The imprisoned President of the United States had had an epiphany. The Army was going to free him and it didn’t matter if Winfield Scott Hancock was its commander or not. He was going to be rescued and he didn’t want to be a drunken, dirty sot when it happened. He’d also been having that dream where the Sioux had ki
lled him. He’d been waking up in a soaking sweat and a couple of times he thought he’d screamed out loud. If he stopped drinking himself into a stupor, perhaps the dream would go away.

  “I’m done feeling sorry for myself,” he said to his British host.

  “I was wondering when that would happen,” Redford Dunfield said with a smile. “And trust me, I didn’t begrudge you one bit for wondering just what the devil had happened to put you in such a predicament.”

  “I want to be ready and armed when Hancock arrives with his army. We can at least meet as equals.” Well, almost, he thought. “I am greatly concerned that the Spanish will attempt to move me when that time comes and hold me hostage elsewhere. I cannot permit that to happen, at least not without a hell of a fight; hence the need for at least one weapon, several if you have them.”

  “And some clean clothes,” Dunfield said drily. “Quite honestly, you look like hell and you stink to high heaven.”

  Custer flushed. He’d already taken stock of himself in a mirror. “Indeed, and I’d like the use of either a razor or the services of a barber if you won’t trust me with anything sharp. And yes, I would like to take a bath as well.”

  Dunfield made a mock bow that Custer ignored. “I will send you a barber and not because I don’t trust you. I’m afraid that your hands are a bit shaky and you might just slice yourself to ribbons. I will also send you my tailor with instructions to clothe you appropriately, but not too expensively. I’m sure you’re aware that Her Majesty Queen Victoria is quite close with her money.”

  “I will be thankful for whatever you can provide.”

  “Since you’re returning to mankind, do you desire female companionship?”

  Custer flushed. “Indeed, but unless you can transport Libbie down to me, I don’t think I wish to chance it.” No, he thought, power corrupts and I’ve certainly been corrupted in the past, but not now. “Thank you, but no thank you.”

  “By the way, two other people will be moving in and will be under guard but they will not be prisoners. One is Juana Salazar and the second man you know, James Kendrick. I know you despise him, but try to be nice to each other while you’re under my roof.”