The Hostile Trail

by Charles G. West

  Matt glanced over to take another look at the lieutenant, seated apart from the men, his only companion Lieutenant James Leland O’Connor, his second in command. As respected as LeVan was, O’Connor was equally disliked by most who had served under him, according to Zeb. Matt had known officers like LeVan in the Confederate Army, all spit and polish, no button unbuttoned. Some were good officers, some were not. You never knew for sure until you were caught in the middle of a hot fight. Zeb seemed to think LeVan could be counted upon. Zeb was probably right, Matt decided. LeVan had that look about him. Slim and fit, he appeared capable of command, a soldier’s soldier, born to the service.

  The column was in the saddle again shortly after sunup, following the general trail Matt and Ike had taken when they had first set out for the Bighorns. It was the middle of the day when they arrived at the Hostetler homestead. Nothing remained of the cabin except a jumble of burned timbers, still smoking, with scattered flickers of flame here and there. The little corral was still standing, and the bodies of Hostetler, his wife, and his young son were hung on the rails, spread-eagled. It was a grisly sight. The bodies were mutilated and scalped, staring in sightless horror.

  “Get them down from there,” LeVan ordered, his voice crisp with anger. “Sergeant, detail some men to dig graves for these poor souls.” When the sergeant moved sharply to obey his orders, LeVan turned to Zeb. “Get the scouts out and find me a trail. I want the bastards that did this.”

  It wasn’t hard to find the Sioux war party’s trail. There had been no effort to disguise it. Back the way they had come, the trail led toward the Powder River. It appeared that the raid had not been a random strike. The war party had specifically come to murder Hostetler and his family. With scouts out on the flanks, as well as about a half mile in advance, the column set out at a brisk pace, confident that there would be a Sioux village at the end of the trail.

  Midafternoon found them at the lower end of the Powder. For the rest of that day the column pushed deeper into Sioux country with no sign of a village or any hint of Indian activity. Ahead and to the west, the Bighorn Mountains stood silent and forbidding, their upper slopes white with snow. Matt, along with Zeb Benson and three Crow scouts, crossed over to the western bank of the river, while Ike and the other Crows continued to follow the trail along the eastern side.

  “I expect the lieutenant’s gonna find more Injuns than he knows what to do with if we keep goin’ much farther up this river,” Zeb said. “I ain’t sure but what we ought’n to turn back before we get in over our heads.”

  Matt didn’t reply, but it was a thought he had already had. He and Ike had seen enough hunting parties in the area from the Powder, across the ridges to the Bighorn, to know that there had to be a sizable Sioux village farther upriver. They had just never felt the need to find it.

  A little before sundown, LeVan called a halt to make camp for the night. The scouts were called in to report. No one had seen any hostiles or signs that any had been in the area recently. The only evidence that Sioux had been in the valley was the obvious trail left by the war party. “What do you think, Brister?” LeVan suddenly asked. “You think we’re anywhere near that Sioux village?” According to what Captain Boyd had told him, Ike knew where the village was located.

  This time, Ike was honest in his answer. “I swear, I don’t know, Lieutenant. Like I told Captain Boyd, I expect that village has wore out the grass and moved on to somewhere else by now.”

  LeVan studied the huge scout for a long moment, considering his answer. Then he turned to Zeb Benson. “Can your Crows tell anything about the trail we’ve been following? Is it any fresher?”

  Zeb knew what he meant. “You mean, does it look like we’re gainin’ on ’em?” Zeb said. “No, it don’t look that way. That trail don’t look no fresher than the day we started.” He paused, watching LeVan while he digested the words. “And we’re gettin’ pretty deep into hostile territory,” he added for emphasis.

  “You don’t think we’ll catch the war party,” LeVan said. It was not a question.

  “Not a chance in hell,” Ike suddenly interjected, not about to be left out of the discussion. “Them Injuns are most likely already home, and I got a feelin’ their village is bigger than this patrol can handle.”

  LeVan studied the bear of a man for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to take him seriously. Then he spoke. “My orders are to find the guilty war party if possible, and to punish them.” He turned then to Lieutenant O’Connor. “We’ll follow this trail for one more day. If we don’t turn up some hostile contact by tomorrow night, we’ll return to Laramie.”

  “Damn good idea,” Zeb mumbled low after the officers had walked away. “Be a better idea if we was to head back in the mornin’. We’d need a regiment if we was to happen onto that Sioux village.”

  * * *

  Two Kills dismounted and walked over to the edge of the bluff to join Yellow Hand. “It would be an easy thing to steal some of their horses. They left them all together with only two sentries to watch them. It is a dark night. We could be away with half of them before the soldiers knew they were missing.”

  Yellow Hand smiled at his friend. It was an interesting thought, but stealing the army mounts would let the soldiers know they were being watched. And Iron Claw would not be pleased if his plan was compromised by losing the element of surprise. “It is for us to count the soldiers, and nothing more,” he said.

  “I know,” Two Kills replied, “but it would be easy.”

  The two Lakota scouts remained on the bluff, counting the individual campfires, watching the soldiers settle in for the night with apparently no concern that their presence might be discovered. Most of the fires were dying out when they led their ponies down the far side of the ridge where they mounted and silently melted into the darkness to inform Iron Claw of the approach of the soldiers.

  Chapter 3

  The morning broke clear and cold. During the night a thin cover of clouds had drifted over the Powder River basin, dusting the mountains with a light snow and spreading a white mantle across the floor of the valley. The tracks now effectively covered, there was no longer a trail to follow. Lieutenant LeVan was determined to stay the course in spite of this, so the column continued, following the general path of the Bozeman Trail.

  By sunup, the clouds had disappeared and the snow-covered peaks glistened silver in the bright sun, causing Matt to squint when he looked toward the mountains. As he rode, moving comfortably in rhythm with the buckskin’s gentle gait, he couldn’t help but wonder what the army had hoped this patrol would accomplish. The trail was too old, even before the snow covered it. The war party that killed the Hostetlers was long gone. He had to agree with Zeb on that. There wasn’t one chance in a hundred that they could run the raiders down. What the hell, he thought. I’m getting paid by the day, and I’ve got nothing better planned. He glanced over at Ike then, and guessed that his partner was probably thinking the same thing.

  It was close to midday when the first hostiles were spotted. Ahead of the column by about half a mile, Matt and Ike pulled up beside one of the Crow scouts who had stopped to await them. “There,” Spotted Horse said, pointing toward a low rise about a quarter of a mile ahead. Following the line indicated, Matt saw them, two Sioux warriors calmly sitting their ponies, watching the column’s progress.

  “Better go back and tell the lieutenant,” Ike said. He signaled Zeb, who was out on the flanks with the other Crows. Then he galloped off to meet Lieutenant LeVan and the column. Matt waited with Spotted Horse.

  “Where?” LeVan wanted to know as soon as he rode up to them. Spotted Horse again pointed toward the rise. The lieutenant stared at the two hostiles, still calmly sitting and watching. After a few moments, he turned to Ike. “What do you think, Brister?”

  Ike, never one to complicate an issue, replied, “I think it’s two Injuns settin’ on their ponies.” It was obvious to him that the two were there to keep an eye on the soldiers, a
nd he didn’t see the need for LeVan’s question.

  Irritated by the big man’s flippant reply, the lieutenant directed his next question toward Matt. “You think they’re scouts or just a couple of hunters?”

  “I’m pretty sure they’re scouts,” Matt answered. “My guess is they knew about us since yesterday, and I expect there’s a helluva lot more of ’em waitin’ somewhere up ahead.” He had been studying the land that lay ahead of them, and he directed LeVan’s attention toward the gently rolling hills that gradually transitioned into the base of the mountains. “There’s a lot of good places to set up an ambush in those hills.”

  While Zeb and the other Crow scouts rode over to join them, LeVan took a few moments to consider Matt’s remarks. With a column of eighty troopers, armed with Sharps carbines, he felt confident that he could rout any band of hostiles looking for a fight. “All right,” he said when Zeb pulled up before them, “we’ll continue on the present line of march.”

  “I’d keep a sharp eye on them ridges,” Ike warned.

  “That would be your job, Blister,” LeVan replied shortly. He turned to summon the column forward. “Scouts out!” He commanded.

  The soldiers continued along a trail that led them closer and closer to the mountains that divided the Powder River valley and the Tongue River. The two Sioux scouts disappeared when the column was within a quarter of a mile, only to reappear a few hundred yards farther on. This time, when the soldiers drew near, the two were suddenly joined by six or seven more warriors. No longer content to merely watch, one of the warriors fired a rifle at the approaching troopers. Well out of range, the shot fell harmlessly short.

  “Hold your fire,” LeVan ordered, lest some of his anxious command should waste ammunition at that range. A few more shots were fired by the small band of Sioux, all considerably short. Gradually, the shots became closer. Still LeVan held his men in check, until they were within a couple hundred yards. Then he dispatched Lieutenant O’Connor with a detail of fifteen troopers to rout the warriors. Ike and four of the Crow scouts were assigned to accompany them. “Just drive them off, Jim,” LeVan told O’Connor. “Don’t give chase, and keep the column in sight. I want to be able to see you.”

  O’Connor charged up the ridge after the Sioux. Before they had reached the top, another small band of Sioux appeared on the ridges on the opposite side of the valley. Like the first group, they fired at the column of soldiers. “Sergeant Barnes!” LeVan ordered. “Take ten men and dispatch those hostiles.”

  Matt pulled up even with the lieutenant. “Looks to me like they’re tryin’ to split us up,” he cautioned. “There’s no tellin’ how many Indians are hiding on the other side of these ridges.”

  LeVan paused to consider Matt’s warning. He looked at Zeb Benson, and the scout nodded his agreement. “You may be right,” LeVan conceded. He was not one to ignore his scouts’ advice, but he was still of the opinion that he could repel any assault by a sizable band of hostiles. “Barnes,” he ordered, “chase them off that ridge, but keep the column in sight. Take Slaughter and a couple of the Crows with you. Benson, you stay with me. And Barnes, don’t pursue them beyond the ridge. I want to be able to see you at all times.”

  “Yes, sir,” the sergeant replied and was off.

  With his column reduced by thirty-five, LeVan continued his advance toward the end of the valley, confident that whatever the hostiles had in mind, he could call all his men back into one fighting unit as long as they were in eye contact. Although careful to hide it in his expression, he was aware of a certain sense of excitement at the prospect of finding the Sioux village. He knew he was getting close because of the efforts of the hostiles to draw him off in other directions. He remained cognizant of Matt’s warning that the valley narrowed into an ideal setting for an ambush, however. No matter how much he had heard about the fighting skills of the Sioux warriors, he felt certain of his superiority in a skirmish. What he feared most was the possibility that the hostiles would scatter and escape.

  Ascending the slope on the column’s right flank, Sergeant Barnes led his troopers up toward the waiting Sioux warriors. One of the warriors raised his rifle and fired at the approaching soldiers. Barnes ordered return fire, and the resulting volley served to rout the hostile party. After only a few more random shots, the hostiles turned and ran. The soldiers gained the top of the ridge and, following Lieutenant LeVan’s orders, continued their pursuit along the crest of the ridge, keeping the column in sight. “Looks like they’re tryin’ to cut back to cross over again!” Barnes shouted to Matt. “I think we can cut ’em off before they make that ravine.”

  Matt looked at the ravine that the hostiles seemed intent upon reaching. It ran down to what appeared to be a narrow gorge, and he had a strong feeling that there might be considerably more Sioux waiting there than this small detachment of troopers could handle. “I think that’s just what they’re hopin’ you’ll do,” Matt replied.

  Barnes was about to lead his men down from the ridgetop after the fleeing Indians, but he hesitated. Slaughter might be right, but Barnes had the feeling the scout was primarily concerned with avoiding risk to his own neck. Barnes had been in the army too long to ignore a command, however, and the lieutenant had ordered him to chase the Sioux off the ridge and keep the column in sight. He held up his hand to halt his men. “Let ’em go,” he ordered. “We done what we was told. Let’s get back to the column.” He led them off in a diagonal direction to intercept the column near the end of the valley.

  On the opposite ridge, Lieutenant O’Connor heard the shots exchanged between Sergeant Barnes’ men and the Sioux. When he looked across the valley and saw the Indians taking flight after Barnes’ troopers opened fire, it served to make him eager to confront the half dozen or so warriors still watching his advance. He gave his horse his heels. “Come on, men. Let’s get after them before they get away!”

  Like their brothers on the opposite ridge, the Sioux began shooting as soon as the soldiers climbed within range. Then they too turned and fled down the back side of the slope. Ike pushed his horse hard as it labored up the steep incline just below the ridgetop. Once he reached the top, he prodded the bay to lope along the crest until he pulled up even with O’Connor. “Don’t let ’em lead you off down over that hill,” Ike warned.

  “After them, boys!” O’Connor shouted, ignoring the big scout’s advice, and led the way. With only a few shots fired at the charging soldiers, the warriors turned and fled down the slope. “Don’t let ’em get away,” O’Connor yelled as he raced along the crest.

  In the valley below him, a small group of Indians rose up from the rocks and began firing at the main column. In response, Lieutenant LeVan ordered a charge. Sweeping down the narrow canyon with carbines blazing, the cavalry troop thundered toward the ambush. Seeing what appeared to be an all-out rout, O’Connor caught the fever and plunged over the top of the ridge after the handful of Sioux now fleeing through a stand of stunted pines near the base of the slope. LeVan’s order to maintain visual contact with the column was discarded as unnecessary caution. His soldiers were rapidly gaining on the hostiles, and O’Connor was determined to overtake them.

  The only member of the detachment not overcome with the scent of blood was Ike. He alone saw the folly of blindly galloping after the departing Sioux, and he tried to catch up to O’Connor before the foolhardy lieutenant charged into the trees. He was too late to head him off, but the troopers emerged from the pines without harm. They found the Indians waiting for them in a small clearing, no longer running. Behind them, in the trees they had just passed through, several dozen warriors rose up from the brush. Too late, O’Connor realized that he had been drawn into a trap. He was caught in a cross fire and was heavily outnumbered.

  As one, then another trooper was cut down by the hostile fire, O’Connor tried to rally his small detail into a skirmish line. Seeing the futility of such a defense, Ike wheeled his horse around to block the lieutenant’s. With lead flying all around
his head, he shouted, “Up the slope! It’s the only chance you’ve got!” He pointed toward the side of the ridge they had descended just moments before. “You try to make a stand here and we’re all dead.”

  O’Connor, his eyes wide in shock, his brain befuddled, eagerly conceded to a calmer voice. “Follow me, men!” he shouted then, and immediately fled up the slope, not waiting to see if anyone had heard him.

  Seeing the lieutenant’s total lack of concern for his men’s safety, Ike held his horse back to direct the withdrawal. He waited to make sure all of the detail retreated toward the slope where O’Connor had fled, and he remained there until all had started up the hill. He turned the bay to follow, but suddenly his horse screamed in pain, dropped to its knees and tumbled, dumping Ike in the process. The big man rolled over a couple of times before coming up to one knee. The last of the soldiers were struggling up the steep side of the hill, oblivious to his situation. He looked around him for his rifle. Seeing it a few feet away, he reached for it just as everything went black in his brain.

  Down on the valley floor, Lieutenant LeVan had succeeded in pushing the Sioux back from their position in the rocks, and was now in pursuit of the fleeing Indians. He could no longer see Lieutenant O’Connor, the headstrong young officer having evidently ignored his orders to remain in view. On his right, LeVan saw Sergeant Barnes angling across the slope to catch up with the column. He didn’t wait for them, figuring they could trail along behind him. In the excitement of the moment, when his cavalry was clearly the superior force, he threw caution to the winds and recklessly led his men through the narrow gorge at the end of the valley, following the confining passage as it wound between steep cliffs. There was no sound except the thunderous pounding of the horses’ hooves upon the hard, rocky soil. Rounding a sharp curve, the lieutenant suddenly found himself facing the hostiles he had pursued. No longer running, they now turned to fight the charging soldiers.