This was all so wild and childlike that McAllister, who had only once seen the Sioux in action and was never likely to forget it, was left in wonder. He foresaw that a lot of the cold and shivering boys he talked with and shared tobacco with would shortly be buried under the snow. That was something he didn’t relish seeing and once more, as when he had been in the Cheyenne camp, he felt inclined to saddle up one dark night and keep on riding.
But he didn’t. Maybe later there would be some small thing which he could do to save the situation. One or two things were in his favor – he spoke Cheyenne and could act as an interpreter and he had Many Horses’ ear. He decided to stay.
At the end of the week, the order came to saddle and ride. Slowly the camp got on the move, slowly the command lined out and headed north, the wagon mules straining under their great weights, the teamsters bawling and cracking their whips, the air of excitement that comes before action once more gripping the men. The gun-teams struggled with the heavy field pieces in the drifts, sergeants cursed their men and officers swore they would have their sergeants’ stripes. The general went hunting and did not find his way back to the column until dusk. The rumor went among the men that he had lost himself. They thought that was funny, but the story didn’t seem to do his reputation any harm. There were also stories going around that there had been strong disagreements between the general and Major Carpell. Apparently, the major was deadset against the advance, saying that the column wasn’t strong enough for the task ahead, that the general should wait for reinforcements to come back with the next supply train. There had been hot words between the two men, the story claimed, and the general had threatened to send the major back to base in disgrace.
There was more disunity than that in the command, for junior officers took sides, a majority being for Anderson and a bold advance against the enemy, a minority being for the major and more cautious action. However, it was generally agreed among the men that it was a good thing to kill Indians even though many of the soldiers were snow-birds who had joined the colors for a comfortable and warm winter and hadn’t bargained for a campaign. In spite of the almost total destruction of Lieutenant Gorman’s troop there were not many men who didn’t think that Anderson could beat any Indian force that came against him.
Day passed into cold day mostly with McAllister well out in front of the troops probing the land, searching the snowy waste with his sharp eyes for sign of Indians. He saw little though now and then he found the tracks of the Cheyenne scouts who were covering Many Horses’ back-trail. After several days, they came to the site of the village where McAllister and the two other scouts had been held, but there was now little trace of the Indians. They had moved out about a week before and now no doubt were well to the north, most probably in the land of the Sioux.
McAllister rode with mixed feelings. His treatment at the hands of the Cheyenne had affected his feelings toward them somewhat, though he knew that he still owed something to Many Horses and his family. He knew that the chief expected him to lead the troops to him so that he could either talk or fight, so McAllister did not feel that there was any treachery in the act. But he couldn’t say that he was happy in his position. He was a simple and direct man and he liked to see his intentions and attitudes as clear-cut. He realised that all he could do was wait and see and try to stay alive when the balloon went up. He had the feeling that wasn’t going to be too easy.
Now the country was starting to break dramatically. Hills shouldered the lowering sky to the west and north. Now a man felt that the Sioux were just over the skyline, waiting. He rode with an extra wariness, knowing that at any moment he might be called upon to ride for his life. From now on the Indians’ patrols would grow stronger. And true enough, two days after leaving Many Horses’ old camp he sighted a party of some twenty mounted men. He eased back into cover, stayed still and watched them through the glasses. One good look was enough to tell him that he wasn’t looking at Cheyenne. He was staring into the painted faces of Sioux warriors. And it did something unpleasant to the guts to see them there down in the hollow, talking among themselves, joking, scalps fluttering in the wind with the tangled hair of their ponies’ manes – the most ferocious fighting men on earth. And there were plenty more where they came from. He watched them until they drifted off to the north and then rode back to the command and reported to Anderson that for the first time he had spotted enemy scouts in strength.
Anderson took the news calmly. In fact, he seemed pleased.
“By God,” he cried, “the Sioux at last. I’ll nail ’em yet.”
McAllister left him, puzzled and full of wonder. Anybody who could be pleased about meeting up with the Sioux must be out of his head. He went back on scout again.
The following day, he spotted a group of Cheyenne warriors and received a small shock when he saw that it was Little Wolf with them. That brought his problem home to him and he was a troubled man for the rest of the day. He wondered what he would do if he came up against the man who had been as a brother to him. And he didn’t know the answer to that one.
That night when the column went into camp, guards were doubled. The tension in the command was rising. A rider came from Towney with orders to Anderson and there was much speculation among all ranks about their contents. Whatever they said, they threw the general in a rage and nobody went near him unless they had to. The following morning, they hit the trail the same as usual and now the general started to put out strong patrols of cavalry with McAllister out in front of them. There were a few minor brushes with Indian patrols, but nothing of consequence and no men were lost. The Indians didn’t show much fight at this stage, probably because their horses were winter-weak.
Then McAllister saw the haze on the distant horizon.
Puzzled, he rode toward it for several hours. He spotted no Indians and at last came out on to high ground and looked north through the glasses. After a lengthy inspection, he came to the conclusion that he was looking at a haze of smoke and reckoned that it must have been caused by hundred upon hundreds of fires. That meant that he had come upon an Indian camp of the greatest magnitude, far larger than he ever expected to see. He debated whether to go forward for a closer look and decided that the lieutenant in charge of the patrol he was with should know about it. So he rode back and reported.
The lieutenant was no more than a boy. Name: John Jones; a bright boy with plenty of nerve. He left the patrol and rode forward with McAllister, taking up a position on the hilltop and putting the glasses on the horizon. Visibility wasn’t good and the boy was puzzled.
“Mr. McAllister,” he said, “if I thought it wasn’t crazy I’d say that was made by camp fires.”
“That’s what I think.”
“It could mean there’re thousands of Indians up there.” McAllister agreed. “What do you think of the terrain? It isn’t too easy to see.”
McAllister pointed.
“There’s the main chain of the hills to the west. That’s mountains to the north of the camp, if it is a camp. So it lies in a shallow valley. See that yonder – I reckon that’s the creek. This’ll be Primrose Valley.”
“An inappropriate name. Now, shall we go in for a closer look or will that alarm the hostiles.”
“I reckon it can’t do that. They know we’re here. I reckon both generals should know what we’ve seen.”
“All right, let’s get going.”
They rode back, collected the patrol and headed back for the command. When Anderson heard the news, he was exultant, refused to pass the information on to General Towney and decided to ride forward with McAllister to see for himself. He took with him Mangold and the major and a handful of men as an escort. When he reached the hill from which the lieutenant and McAllister had made their observations he took a long look through the glasses.
“Smoke?” he exclaimed when he took the glasses from his eyes. “How in the world can you be certain that’s smoke. It could be nothing more than a mist hanging over the valley. Mangold
, take a look.”
The old man took the glasses and stared for a long time. Finally, he said: “That’s smoke all right, gineral.”
“I don’t believe it.”
An argument started and the major was called to give his opinion. He said he thought it was smoke. The general said: “If that’s smoke, it’s an Indian trick to fool us. There aren’t that many Indians on the Plains. It’s Many Horses’ ruse to make us believe he has the Sioux with him and I don’t believe for one minute they would be foolish enough to commit themselves for a weaker tribe. That’s attributing motives to Indians which they just don’t possess.”
McAllister said: “If the Sioux think you’re going to hit the Cheyenne, they’ll naturally think it’s a threat against themselves.”
The general merely stared at him.
“It doesn’t matter a damn one way or the other what that is we’re staring at. If it represents a strong camp of hostiles, then luck’s with us. We head straight for it.”
The major said: “I must register a protest, general. We don’t possess the strength to go against a place that size, not even with General Towney on one flank.”
Anderson laughed.
“Towney doesn’t come into this. This will be carried out by my regiment alone.”
They rode back to the command and Anderson started to give orders. Thirty of the infantry were to stay with the wagons while the remainder of the foot soldiers and the whole of the cavalry, with their supplies on the backs of mules, would advance in the shortest possible time on whatever was ahead. Anderson’s belief in the invincibility of his arms was unassailable. The major argued and gained the satisfaction of being told that, if he persisted, he would be sent to base with a severe reprimand. So, the column prepared to march. At the last moment, Anderson decided to take his field pieces with him. They would be an encumbrance in the snow and over the rough terrain, but if he were assaulting a strong position they might come in very useful.
They marched at noon at the speed a footsoldier could move, which wasn’t much, but even Anderson dared not go forward without the extra firepower offered by the infantry. He was short enough of men as it was. They went into camp in the big valley on the banks of what was the same creek that the Indians were camped on. Every man slept on his arms and with horses saddled, all ready for instant action. Nobody had much sleep that night, for the non-commissioned officers were rousing the men at two in the morning. Within a half-hour, they were on their way again, going slowly forward, Anderson ridiculously hopeful that they would hit the Indians as soon as it was light, but by McAllister’s reckoning, they were still ten miles from the smoke by daylight. He went forward with Tom Mangold to be the eyes of the command and rode several miles up the valley. They got themselves chased by a large party of Indians, but their corn-fed horses easily outran those of the hostiles. Increasingly, however, as the day wore on, they saw signs of Indians. Their mounted patrols became common sights, silhouetted on the ridges. Around noon the patrols became a permanent body of Indians drifting slowly along with the column on either flank, well out of gun-range. The men became quite used to them being there. Some of the men shouted for them to come on down and fight. McAllister knew they’d be down as soon as it suited them, when the time and the place were right. He began to wish that he had followed his first impulse to mount and ride away. It was too late now.
There was now no suggestion that a scout should be made to the van. There were too many Indians about for that. But the general was satisfied: he had made contact and it was all a matter of time before he rode down upon the camp. His one regret was that he could no longer surprise the place. He thought that Towney was still unaware of the presence of the Indians, though McAllister could not discover what made him think that. However, that was disproven toward the end of the afternoon when heavy gunfire was heard to the east which could have been nothing else than Towney’s command making contact with the enemy. It went on for some time and then, near dusk, died away. About then, a rider came toward the column with a strong body of Indians after him. Rifle fire from the troops drove the Indians off and the rider turned out to be a corporal with a message from Towney.
The general told Anderson that he had good reason to believe that the enemy were ahead in overwhelming numbers. As General Walters could not have got within fifty miles of the position yet, it was most unwise to advance. General Anderson therefore was instructed to discontinue the advance and to join Towney’s command. At any moment, either command might come under major attack.
Anderson ordered that the messenger should not return to his unit, something which the corporal was very glad to hear, for he had had a hot time getting through the lines of the enemy. The general also said that he couldn’t believe the message from his senior officer, the messenger must have become confused and got it garbled. It was his intention to go straight ahead. He wasn’t going to be deterred from his purpose by a horde of undisciplined savages.
They lay down to sleep in the snow again that night with their nerves on edge. No fires were lit and the men could not sleep in spite of their exhaustion because of the intense cold. They were up and moving again by two and by dawn they could clearly see the smoke. McAllister reckoned that if the massive encampment were still there, the Indians must be pretty confident of the outcome of a fight with the soldiers or else they would have moved out. But there was no sign whatsoever of them moving out; in fact, the numbers of Indians on their flanks were doubled by dawn. They were becoming bolder now and, wherever cover allowed, they were coming in on foot to fire into the column. Not many soldiers were hit, but the almost continuous rifle fire was unnerving for the men. Twice Anderson sent a troop of cavalry forward to clear Indians who blocked the way and twice the Indians simply faded away into the broken country ahead of the mounted men.
Finally, Anderson made up his mind for action. Major Carpell with his troop would detour to the west and outflank the Indians from that direction. The infantry would move slowly but steadily down the bed of the valley straight for the encampment while he himself with the remainder of the cavalry, two troops, would go along the eastern wall of the valley and hit the Indians from that direction. The cavalry would keep on the move and at all costs would refuse to stand and fight. Their job was to kill Indians. If possible they would fire the camp and return to the infantry.
McAllister was appalled. Anderson had not the slightest idea what he was going into and it didn’t seem possible that an experienced officer could be acting so rashly.
McAllister was detailed to accompany Major Carpell, a fact which pleased him, for, though he did not like Carpell, the man was a capable and cool officer. Old Tom Mangold would go with General Anderson. They said their farewells to the infantry and the two bodies of horsemen went on their way.
No sooner had Carpell’s troop gone a mile to the west than they were opposed by a strong body of Indians, mounted and showing every intention of fight. However, when the cavalry advanced on them, they made no attempt to stand, but moved back ahead of the troops. There was no flight, but a steady withdrawal, so steady in fact that the major didn’t like it one little bit, and said so.
“I have the feeling that we’re doing just what they want,” he told McAllister.
“Me too,” McAllister agreed.
They went on until they must have been within a couple of miles of the camp and Carpell changed direction to a bluff slightly to his left. This was a hundred or more feet high and from it he thought to get a better view of the Indians’ disposition.
They toiled up this height and the major and McAllister put their glasses on the scene below.
At first, they could scarcely believe their eyes.
They were south and slightly to the west of an encampment and it was the largest collection of lodges that McAllister had ever thought to see. It stretched for several miles across his view from east to west and then went north till it was lost in the haze of smoke that he had seen earlier. He didn’t dare think how
many fighting Indians the sight represented. Every last Plains Indian in the continent must have been there.
“My God,” Carpell said simply.
“Your orders,” McAllister reminded him, “are to attack that with fifty men.”
“The general didn’t know,” the major said. “If he had known he would never have given the order.” He called his two junior officers to him and put it to them. They agreed that it would be suicide to go on. If the general had been there, he would have given the order to go back. But the major was undecided. He knew what was at stake here. If the general did break through on his flank and have any measure of success he could accuse Carpell of cowardice in the face of the enemy if he did not offer support.
McAllister Fights Page 14
