Kellogg looked up from his table with a broad smile, eager for Falcon’s response.
“Sounds like you think the Indians will be easy,” Falcon said.
“Oh, come on, please, Colonel MacCallister,” Kellogg said. “Against General Custer and the mighty Seventh? I’ve no doubt there will be some difficult times on the march, but as to any actual fighting? The Indians will scarcely give battle, I think.”
“Mr. Kellogg?” someone called from outside the tent. “May I come in, sir?”
“Yes, yes, of course, Johnny, come in out of the rain,” Kellogg replied.
The person who stepped into the tent was a boy, no older than fourteen. He was wearing a slicker against the rain, but his face was wet and the hat, which was a billed cap rather than a hat with a brim, had done little to keep his hair from getting soaked.
“Colonel MacCallister, this is Johnny McVey. He works for Western Union,” Kellogg said. “What brings you out here, Johnny? Do you have a telegram for me? Or a message from my editor?”
“Neither one, Mr. Kellogg. This is a telegram for Colonel MaCallister.”
“I’m Colonel MacCallister,” Falcon said.
“You’re not in uniform.”
“No, I’m not.”
“How do I know you are who you say your are? I’m only supposed to give this to Colonel MacCallister.”
“I will speak for him, Johnny,” Kellogg said. “This is Colonel MacCallister.”
“All right,” Johnny said. “If you speak for him, Mr. Kellogg.” The boy handed the telegram to Falcon. “This is for you,” he said.
“Thanks.”
Falcon gave the boy half a dollar, and took the telegram.
COLONEL FALCON MACCALLISTER FT LINCOLN DAKOTA TERRITORY FROM MAJOR ADRIAN BRISBANE FT JUNCTION COLORADO TERRITORY
COLONEL IT IS WITH REGRET THAT I INFORM YOU THAT SERGEANT MAJOR SEAN O’LEARY CORPORAL DARREL BATES AND PRIVATES DEACON MORGAN AND SMITH WERE KILLED WHILE ATTEMPTING TO DELIVER GATLING GUNS TO FORT JUNCTION STOP
IT WASN’T UNTIL AFTER THEY WERE KILLED THAT PRIVATE WILLIE CRAWFORD REPORTED OVERHEARING SOME OF A TELEGRAPH MESSAGE SENT BY GRAHAM POTTER IN WHICH POTTER WAS TALKING ABOUT THE GUNS STOP I IMMEDIATELY PLACED POTTER UNDER ARREST AND QUESTIONED HIM STOP
FROM WHAT WE HAVE BEEN ABLE TO GATHER, THE MAN POTTER DEALT WITH WAS CLETE HARRIS STOP WE BELIEVE HARRIS IS GOING INTO THE MONTANA TERRITORY TO SELL THE GATLING GUNS TO INDIANS AND IS THERE EVEN NOW STOP WE HAVE ALSO LEARNED THAT THE RIFLES WE BELIEVED LOST IN TRANSIT WERE IN FACT DELIBERATELY SENT TO A FALSE LOCATION BY PORTER SO HARRIS COULD ACQUIRE THEM STOP IT IS BELIEVED THAT HARRIS SOLD THOSE GUNS TO THE SAME INDIANS THAT GENERAL CUSTER WILL BE CONDUCTING HIS EXPEDITION AGAINST STOP
I HOPED TO GET EVEN MORE INFORMATION BUT SOMEHOW POTTER HAS MANAGED TO ESCAPE STOP
IN THE MEANTIME GOVERNOR ROUTT REQUESTS THAT YOU EXTEND HIS APOLOGY TO GENERAL CUSTER FOR ANY PROBLEM THESE REPEATING RIFLES MAY CAUSE HIM AND HE ASKS YOU TO ATTEMPT TO FIND THE GATLING GUNS STOP
ADRIAN BRISBANE
MAJ COMND’G OFFICER (ACTING)
COLORADO HOME GUARD
“Damn,” Falcon said, when he finished reading the telegram.
“What is it, Colonel? Trouble?” Kellogg asked.
Falcon folded the telegram up and put it in his pocket. “Yeah,” he said. “In fact, it could be a lot of trouble. I need to talk to Custer.”
Although Custer had been out and around through the company area most of the day, Falcon found him back in his tent. Standing outside and calling, Falcon was invited in by Libbie.
The tent was actually a double Sibley tent, which was twelve feet high and thirty-six feet in diameter. Its large size allowed it to be divided into rooms by use of canvas walls. The tent was also well furnished with folding tables and chairs.
“Colonel MacCallister, how nice of you to call,” Libbie said. “Won’t you have a cup of hot tea? It will help to push away the gloom of this cold, rainy day.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Custer, but I need to speak to the general if he is here.”
“Yes, he is here. He is in the back putting on some dry clothes. I’ll get him. Lorena, you don’t mind entertaining Colonel MacCallister for a few moments, do you?”
“Of course not,” Lorena said. “I would be happy to entertain the colonel.”
“Lorena,” Falcon said after Libbie left them alone together. “I’m sorry that such awful weather is spoiling your adventure.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Falcon. Weather like this is part of the adventure,” Lorena replied. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some tea?”
Falcon smiled and nodded. “All right,” he said. “Perhaps some tea would be nice after all.”
Lorena poured a cup of tea and handed it to him.
“Thank you.” As Falcon took a swallow of his tea, he looked at Lorena over the edge of his cup. “Am I like the weather?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Am I a part of your adventure?”
Lorena laughed, a rich, throaty laugh. “Why, Falcon MacCallister, how clever you are,” she said. “Is that what you want to be? A part of my adventure?”
“Colonel MacCallister,” Custer said, coming from behind the canvas wall and speaking, thankfully, before Falcon had to answer Lorena’s question. “Are you staying dry?”
“I am, yes, thanks to Mr. Kellogg generously sharing his tent with me,” Falcon said.
“Libbie said you wanted to see me.”
“Yes, I do,” Falcon replied. He showed Custer the telegram he had received from Major Brisbane.
Custer read it, then nodded. “Am I to understand that this man, Porter, is responsible for supplying the Sioux with repeating rifles?”
“I’m afraid so, General,” Falcon answered.
Custer stroked his mustache as he contemplated the telegram. Finally, with a sigh, he handed the telegram back to Falcon.
“You were right to come to me with this,” he said. “What are you going to do now?”
“Well, General, as you can see from the telegram, Governor Routt wants me to find the Gatling guns before they, too, wind up in Indian hands. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m afraid I’m going to have to borrow a horse from you.”
“Yes, yes, of course, see the saddler sergeant. Tell him I said to let you pick out any horse you want.”
“Thank you, General.”
“Do you have any idea where to start looking for these guns?”
“Not exactly.”
Custer chuckled. “You aren’t going to just go out hither and yon, searching for your Indians like Diogones, carrying his lantern in search of an honest man, are you?”
“Whatever works,” Falcon replied with his own chuckle.
“Well, I do have an idea—that is, if you are amenable to it,” Custer said.
“At this point, General, I am open to any suggestion.”
“You could come on this scout with us,” Custer said.
“I don’t know,” Falcon replied. “I don’t know how much looking I would be able to do if I stayed with you.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. You don’t have to stay with us,” Custer said. “As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t want you to. You would be acting as a scout. That way you can break away from us anytime you want, go anywhere you want, but always have a base to which you can return. And you would be able to perform double duty—looking for the Gatling guns while, at the same time, helping us look for the Indians.”
“If I agree to do that, General, you will have to know that my first duty will be to find those two guns.”
“That’s fine,” Custer replied. “I, for one, would not want to have those Gatling guns in the hands of the Indians. So—in that respect, you would be serving me, even as you serve yourself.”
“All right, General. I’ll go along with that,” Falcon agreed.
“Good, good, and I have just the scout to work with you.”
Falcon held up his hand. “There’s
no need for that, General. I would not want to take one of your scouts away from his regular duty.”
“Believe me, Falcon, if there is any chance that there may be a couple of Gatling guns out there, helping you find them would be a part of his regular duty. I think you will find him very helpful. He used to live with the Indians, he speaks the language, and he knows the area.” Custer stuck his head out and called to his messenger. “Trooper!”
“Yes, sir!” the soldier replied.
“Find Isaiah Dorman. Tell him I wish to see him.”
“Yes, sir,” the trooper said, hurrying off on his errand.
“I think you’ll find Dorman an interesting fellow,” Custer said. “He has been a mail carrier—no easy job out here where you have to travel hundreds of miles in a trackless wilderness all alone. And he was a guide and interpreter for the builders of the Northern Pacific Railroad. Mr. Dorman also acted as an interpreter for me on a few occasions.”
A moment later, the messenger called from outside the tent. “General Custer, I have Dorman here, sir.”
“Send him in,” Custer called back.
The flap to the tent parted, and Dorman stepped inside.
“Gen’rul, you wanted to see me?”
Falcon was surprised to see that Isaiah Dorman was a black man.
“Yes, take Colonel MacCallister to see the saddler sergeant. Tell Fitzsimmons I said he is to make a horse available for the colonel. The colonel has some looking to do, and I want you to go with him. He’ll fill you in.”
“All right, Gen’rul,” Dorman said. He looked over at Falcon. “You want to come with me, Colonel? We’ll get you that horse.”
“I like the looks of that horse,” Falcon said, pointing to a buckskin.
“Sorry, Colonel, but you can’t have that one,” Sergeant Fitzsimmons said. “That one don’t belong to the cavalry. That there horse is the personal mount of one of the officers.”
“Comanche, come here,” Dorman called, and the horse, shaking his head, came over to Dorman and began nuzzling him.
“This noble beast belongs to Cap’n Keogh,” Dorman explained as he patted the horse on its nose. “He puts so much store in him that he bought him from the army just so’s no one else would ever ride him.”
Falcon reached up to tug on Comanche’s ear. “I don’t blame him,” Falcon said. “This is a good-looking horse, and you can tell by looking at him that he has spirit.”
“That’s a good horse over there,” Dorman said, pointing to a bay.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Falcon replied.
“I’ll get him saddled for you, Colonel,” Sergeant Fitzsimmons said.
May 17, 1876
Ft. Lincoln, Dakota Territory
The sky was overcast and a fog crept up from the river itself, but that didn’t alter Custer’s plans for a grand departure. With wives, children, and post personnel who were staying behind making up the audience, Custer readied his command for a parade.
The regimental band formed in the middle of the parade ground, just in front of the flagpole. The songs “Garryowen” and “The Girl I Left Behind Me” provided stirring martial music for the occasion. Falcon was given the honor of standing by Custer as the regiment rode by, led for this occasion by Major Reno.
Reno rode by first. A flag bearer rode immediately behind him carrying the blue and gold regimental standard on the same pole as Custer’s personal pennant, which was red and blue with crossed white sabers. The twelve companies of the Seventh came after that, the troopers all mounted on matching horses for each company, and riding in columns of fours.
As each company passed in review, the company guidon in front of each company would dip and the company commander would render a salute to Custer, who proudly returned the salute.
“Look at that,” Custer said. “I ask you, Falcon, have you ever seen a finer body of men anywhere in the world?”
“It is a fine-looking regiment, General,” Falcon replied.
“The world will take note and long remember what we will do on this scout,” Custer said. “From this day forward, the Seventh Cavalry will live in fame. I will lead them to glory.”
When the last of the regiment paraded by the flagpole, Custer turned to Falcon. “You can wait here for Dorman. I told him to come back for you after the parade.”
“All right,” Falcon agreed.
“And you, my dear, come ride with me,” Custer said to Libbie.
Libbie was wearing a blue shell jacket with a double row of brass buttons, which presented a very military appearance. Custer’s horse, Vic, and Libbie’s horse, Dandy, were tethered just behind the flagpole, and the two mounted, then raced to the front of the column, where Custer relieved Reno. Libbie rode by his side as Custer then led the regiment by the enlisted barracks, where those soldiers who weren’t going for one reason or another stood outside, watching their comrades and shouting encouragement to them.
“Johnny, mind you don’t leave your scalp out there, you ain’t got all that much hair to begin with!” one of the infantrymen shouted to a friend in the cavalry. Those around him laughed.
Once beyond the enlisted barracks, the column passed by the married NCO quarters, also known as “Soapsuds Row” since so many of the NCOs’ wives were laundresses.
“Billy, you’ll be comin’ back to me now, you hear? You’ll be comin’ back to me,” one woman shouted.
“There’s your daddy. Wave to your daddy, boys, wave to your daddy,” another woman said, holding one young boy in her arms while a second clung to her skirt.
Finally, they rode past the officers’ quarters, where a cluster of wives and children stood together, watching anxiously. Once they were beyond the officers’ quarters, Custer led them at left oblique toward the front gate. As he did so, Falcon heard gasps and excited voices from those who were staying behind . At first he didn’t know what they were reacting to. Then he saw several of them pointing up.
There, just over the long column of mounted troopers, was a very vivid mirage. In the mist above was a mirror image of the long row of riders so that the Seventh Cavalry was marching, not only on the ground, but in the sky. Some of the wives, seeing their husbands ride off to do battle, shivered in fear, certain they had just seen a sign from heaven.
The band continued to play, the notes bouncing back now from the walls of the nearly empty post. The band director, seeing that the regiment had left, finished the song, then ordered the band to mount and ride quickly to take its place in the ranks.
Falcon saw Isaiah Dorman riding toward him at a fairly rapid trot. “Have you watched all the soldier boys go by, Colonel?” Dorman asked.
“I have.”
“Then, if you come with me, we’ll get to scoutin’.” Dorman was chewing tobacco, and he punctuated his comment with a brown, wet spit. He wiped the back of his hand across his lips.
As the regiment was now moving very slowly to match the pace of the wagons, Falcon and Dorman caught up with them quickly. The scouts were led by Lieutenant Charles Varnum, and he came back to speak with Falcon.
“Colonel, I’m not exactly sure what the protocol is here,” Varnum said. “Clearly, you outrank me. But I—”
Falcon interrupted Varnum with a raised hand. “Lieutenant, as you can see, I am not in uniform,” he said. “This is your command. You do whatever you planned to do without regard to me. For the most part, I’ll just be coming along for the ride. But in fact, I plan to go out on my own quite a bit, to try and locate those two Gatling guns before the Indians get them.”
“Yes, sir,” Varnum said. “Well, if there is anything I don’t want, it is to have Indians with Gatling guns, so please, do whatever you have to do. And, if you need me for anything, just let me know.”
“How about letting Isaiah Dorman ride with me?” Falcon asked. “He knows the lingo. If we run into any friendly Indians, he might be able to help me find the guns.”
“Right, the general said to make him available to you,” Varnu
m said. “Dorman, you ride with the colonel.”
“Whatever you say, Boss,” Dorman replied.
As the two men rode away from the rest of the Seventh, Falcon looked back in time to see how Custer had organized his line of march. He’d divided his command into three battalions, taking the center battalion himself, giving the right wing to Major Marcus Reno, a junior major, and the left wing to Captain Frederick Benteen, a senior captain.
“Mr. Dorman,” Falcon said. “What do you think of Reno and Benteeen?”
Dorman leaned over and squirted out another quid.
“If you ask me, the gen’rul is just askin’ for trouble with them two,” Dorman replied.
“What do you mean?”
“If you was to give a boot full of piss to Reno, he wouldn’t have sense enough to pour it out,” Dorman said. “And if you was to give it to Benteen, why, that evil sum’ bitch would more’n likely pour it out on Custer.”
Falcon chuckled. If Dorman was that observant, then he was just the kind of man Falcon would need if he was to have any chance of finding the Gatling guns.
May 17, 1876
Little Heart River
Custer and the Seventh Cavalry reached the first crossing of Little Heart River at about two o’clock in the afternoon. Here, the entire expeditionary force was brought together under General Terry. The force consisted of the Seventh Cavalry, commanded by Custer, with twenty-eight officers and 747 men; two companies of the 17th Infantry and one company of the 6th Infantry, comprising eight officers and 135 men; one platoon of Gatling guns with two officers and thirty-two men; and forty-five scouts. In addition, the wagon train had 114 six-mule teams, thirty-seven two-horse teams, and seventy other vehicles, including ambulances, with eighty-five pack mules, all manned by 179 civilians. Included in that number were Boston and Autie Reed Custer.
Although the expedition was commanded by General Alfred H. Terry, one would scarcely know that to see Custer. Custer was constantly on the move, not only seeing to his own command, but issuing orders to the other commands as well, seeing to the placement of the advance guard, the rear guard, and the flanks.
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