“It isn’t as easy as that,” the major said, “but it is a comfort to have your support. If the general does go ahead and attack that camp, he will need every bit of help we can give him.”
McAllister said: “If’n you want my two cents’ worth, major – nobody can’t give anybody any help down there. We go a mile from this spot and we’ll be over-run. Look yonder.”
They all turned and looked in the direction he was pointing and saw the endless stream of riders who were gathering in the valley below.
“An’ that ain’t all,” McAllister said. “Look behind.”
They turned and saw that there were several hundred Indians who had gotten around behind them and were now quite openly waiting for them to come down off the bluff.
The major pursed his lips.
“Nevertheless,” he said, “we have our duty to do. We shall see if we can offer the general some support. We will probe their strength down there. If it is more than we can handle we shall return to his position and do our best to hold it.”
“An’ that ain’t goin’ to be so damn easy,” McAllister said.
They started down the bluff. It was not easy in the snow and every now and then the line of riders stopped as a horse stumbled. Once one of them went over and rider and horse parted and rolled over and over down the steep slope. All the Indians down below seemed to have become motionless as they watched the soldiers’ descent. Then, as the cavalry reached the flat, they drifted away. The air seemed clearer now and as far as McAllister could see, there were Indians.
Carpell formed his column and led it forward at a walk, feeling his way out into the valley, not wanting to get too far from the strong position of the bluff before he made his decision. McAllister didn’t have to think for a moment to decide. To ride out into the valley was plain suicide. After they had covered a mile and seemed to be completely surrounded by Indians all of whom were still at a safe distance, the major called a halt again.
“Well, gentlemen,” he said to his officers, “how do we feel about the situation now?”
One lieutenant said: “Major, if the general’s in the same situation as we are, he’s going to need us.”
“Or we’re goin’ to need him. Strikes me,” McAllister said, “we couldn’t be much help to each other right now. Major, if we’re goin’ to work our way down the valley, let’s head from bluff to bluff, that way we can run for high ground if we have to. It’s sure we ain’t goin’ to get back.”
They looked back and saw that the way was solidly blocked. They lifted their eyes and saw that Indians had occupied the bluff which they had just left.
At that moment shooting started out in front of them and lead began to fall amongst the column of riders. Dismounted tribesmen were lying in the snow under good cover and shooting at them from a long range.
“At least we don’t have to put up with that,” the major said. “We’ll go forward briskly, gentlemen. We won’t take too much run out of the horses. We may need it later.”
They went forward in column, staying together well and headed straight for the riflemen. One or two stayed to fire at the troops, but the remainder fled to either side of the army’s line of march. They winkled the ones who stayed out of roughly dug rifle pits, killing one and wounding one without suffering any casualties themselves. So far so good. They came down on to lower ground and here the fire to the east grew heavier and two troopers fell from the saddle. They were both wounded pretty badly, but there could be no stopping now. They were helped back into the saddle and told to do their best to stay with the troop. It was keep up or die.
A sergeant from the rear rode up the column and shouted: “Riders coming in on the rear, major, sir.”
The major dropped back to one side of the column, McAllister with him, and inspected the rear. True enough, there was a cloud of Indian horsemen there coming on as fast as their weak horses could manage. Even as they watched, the Indians swooped in and made an attempt on the rear files of the column. The troopers met them with carbine fire from the saddles of their still moving horses. The Indians swerved away, turned and came back in.
“Form line,” the major roared and the soldiers came around pretty well considering they were handling comparatively heavy mounts on snow. They turned into line and followed the major at his command. McAllister had to admire the man. He continued what might have been a parade-ground tactic, circling his men in line. The Indians made one strike at their rear, but the soldiers were wheeling too fast and though the smaller ponies of the Indians were nimble enough they didn’t have the run in them. Carpell lifted his pace to a charge. The line went on circling, then straightened out and headed straight down on the cluster of Indians at no distance at all. The Cheyenne tried to get some more speed out of their ponies, but they just didn’t have it in them and the troop rode down on them firing at a range that didn’t allow them many misses. The bunch of Indians seemed to crumple. They took advantage of the handiness of their small ponies and scattered out to either side, scurrying away from the soldiers. Rifle fire came from the ridge to the west and, unable to make himself heard above the uproar and shooting, the major waved the soldiers on. They charged heavily up the ridge, found a handful of Indians still there, killed them and halted for the horses to blow.
Nobody fooled himself that it was all over, or that it had even started, but the brisk and so far successful action had cheered the men. Their confidence had been fed. They were out-numbered, but they had held their ground and they had given the enemy something to remember.
McAllister sat the sweating canelo and thought: Now I’m in it. I’m on the side of the army against the Cheyenne, and Many Horses at that. A position I never wanted to be in. But now I have to fight to save myself. He wondered what he would do if he got Little Wolf in his sights.
The scene fell silent. McAllister could hear nothing but the steady blowing of the horses. The enemy were now holding their fire, watching the troops. Men reached for their canteens, suddenly and unaccountably thirsty.
A sergeant growled out: “Go easy on the water, boys. You don’t know when you’re going to get any more.”
While they were on the ridge-top, one of the wounded men died. They scraped a shallow grave and put him in. As they headed down off the ridge, the horses walked over the grave. They walked north-east for ten minutes and the Indians hung far back, giving a false idea of their courage. McAllister knew the only thing stopping them from hitting the troop hard was the poorness of their horseflesh.
Suddenly, the major held up his hand and held up the column.
They all heard it. The rumble of heavy gunfire.
“That’s the general,” the major said.
The big guns rumbled on.
They went on in the same direction. Once more the Indian riflemen came close and fired into the troop. Twice in the next hour, Carpell ordered a charge to clear them from either flank and twice they killed a half-dozen Indians. That didn’t even make a dent in the force opposing them. The bulk of the hostiles was holding back.
The major said to McAllister: “I thought they were staying away from us because our horses are so much better than theirs, but now I’m beginning to wonder if we aren’t heading into a trap.”
McAllister said: “I just came to the same conclusion. Major, if you want to keep these men alive I’d hightail outa here.”
“And what of the general? He may need us.”
“Your orders were to attack the camp. You know you can’t do that, you’d never get within a mile of it through this lot.”
Again the major called a halt and they listened to the sounds beyond the yells and catcalls of the savages on the surrounding ridges. They knew the faint sound they could hear was a full-scale battle going on in the distance to the east.
The major said: “That’s the general in trouble. That’s in the same position from which the guns were firing. I think he’s been stopped. Most likely fighting for his life.”
“Major,” McAllister
said, “my advice is light a shuck outa here. We’ll be lucky to reach the wagons alive.”
“You’re right,” the major said sadly. “There’s nothing I’d like to do more. But I can’t. We must relieve the general.”
“Two damn fools don’t make a wise man,” McAllister said.
“It’s damn fools who win wars,” the major said with a little smile.
“No,” McAllister returned. “They only get medals. After they’re dead.”
The major turned in the saddle and roared: “Forward.” They walked a dozen yards and he gave the order to trot. They went briskly swinging into the east, mounted a ridge in the face of fairly heavy fire, didn’t stop and went down the other side. Here some fifty mounted Indians made as if to attack, but they changed their minds as soon as they were within the range of the troopers’ carbines and drifted away ahead of the column. Casting a quick eye around, McAllister reckoned there were upward of five hundred Indians in plain sight. How many more were between the column and the general he hated to think. He spotted a timbered bluff to their right.
He jerked a thumb in its direction and said: “How about headin’ for that bluff, major. We’d get a good view from there. Maybe sight the general.”
The major agreed and swung the column in that direction, but, as they neared it they found that it was strongly held by Indians. They were met by a heavy fire as they advanced. McAllister glanced at the major and saw him debating whether it was worth taking or not. What decided him was that he looked behind them and saw the strong gathering of Indians there. The body advancing on the column was several hundred strong and were all mounted and showing every intention of pushing home an attack. Without any further hesitation the major gave the order to charge in line and the troop sent their horses for the bluff. It was steep and it was slippery and within the first moment of hitting it two horses went down. But the charge didn’t break its slow but steady pace, the horses continued to scramble up the slippery and rough approach to the top of the bluff in the face of a storm of lead and arrows. McAllister had to give credit to Carpell. He led the way and he didn’t waver, but rode right into what the Indians had to offer and, even before the cavalry could reach the top and come hand-to-hand with the Indians, they had decided that they wanted none of it and nothing could stop these determined soldiers. When they reached the top they saw nothing but the dark of timber and the disappearing backsides of a few dozen Indians.
Carpell at once gave orders to dismount and tie the horses among the trees; then he positioned his men around the head of the bluff, being particularly careful of the cover he gave to any approach to it. Then he and McAllister took their glasses and inspected the country to the east.
The first thing they saw was that a fast flowing and ice-free creek ran along the foot of the bluff on that side. The second thing they took in was the number of Indians who were in plain view in the valley. They put their glasses up to their eyes and searched into the distance looking toward the sound of continuous firing that they could still hear. One big gun was still booming and they saw that the shells were falling in the haze that hung over the village to the north. Anderson evidently thought he could blackmail his attackers by damaging the village.
“My God,” the major said, “he should be putting those shells into those savages below. Can you spot where he is, McAllister?”
It took McAllister several minutes to find the defending body of troops for sure. Slowly, among the Indians below he began to see a rough pattern that was like the slow eddying of a whirlpool. It seemed to wind this way and that, but to go in a generally circular position and only after several minutes did it come to him that he was watching a great mass of Indians circling a small position on a slight slope on the far side of the valley.
“Over there,” he said and pointed, continuing to look himself.
He couldn’t see too clearly, but it seemed to him that the general was holding a position around one of the field pieces and that position was mighty small. There were not many men left there and the eddy that circled them was getting tighter and tighter.
“They’re finished,” he said.
“They’re still firing,” the major said.
“They don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell.”
“We have to try and get who we can out of there.”
“You’d sacrifice all these men for a handful down there?”
The major was a troubled man and McAllister felt for him. Carpell said: “We couldn’t live with ourselves if we didn’t try.”
“We won’t live if we do try,” McAllister told him. “First, we have to get down off this bluff and that ain’t goin’ to be too easy.”
Even as he spoke, there came heavy firing from the west side of the bluff and, hurrying in that direction, they saw that a large body of Indians on foot was attempting to scale the bluff under cover of rifle fire and a shower of arrows from men to their rear. The men on the bluff met them with heavy fire from their carbines, a kind of fire that McAllister knew they couldn’t keep up because they were running short on ammunition. The Indians wavered as the heavy fire smashed into them, but they came on again and though after a while many of them fled back the way they had come, a good few remained under cover of some rocks halfway up, continuing to lob arrows in among the defenders. The soldiers received two casualties during this engagement. These were dragged back into the trees where they were attended to by a medical orderly as best he could.
Next there came an attack from the west across the creek and this was beaten back also, this time without loss to the defenders. McAllister reckoned that the Indians were not: going to give up easily and that they would come again and again until the soldiers’ ammunition was used up. After that the Indians would swamp the beleaguered men on the bluff-top and after that: it would be just a matter of lifting their hair.
He was surprised how little fear he felt. His overpowering emotion was one of regret, regret that the whites and the Indians should be fighting like this. But he didn’t fool himself that it wasn’t inevitable. The whiteman wanted the whole of the land and the Indians had it. It was as simple as that. Sure, the Indians were savages and they were cruel but that didn’t automatically rob them of all their rights and he wasn’t convinced that, when you came down to it, that the Indian was any more merciless than the whiteman. He knew what Anderson had done and what these very men he was with and who would die bravely with him had done.
He knew that when the Sioux and the Cheyenne came on to the bluff top he would defend himself. He’d be a fool if he did anything else. But if he survived until the end, he would attempt a break-through on the canelo. The horse was strong again now and it could run faster than anything the Indians had.
The attacks died down. Only occasionally a shot or an arrow came from the Indians. But they persisted, which was a strange thing for an Indian to do, for he was essentially a hit and run man. No, he could see that they were digging in out there and meant to stay until every man on the bluff-top was dead.
There was a comparative silence over the battlefield. The major went his rounds talking to the men, keeping their courage up. McAllister put the glasses on the other battlefield to the east. The heavy gun had stopped firing now, the circling movement among the Indians seemed to have stopped. The firing was much less. There were not many soldiers left over there now.
An hour later, all movement on the spot had ceased. The Indians were moving toward the bluff on which Carpell’s command stood in a great slow-moving mass.
McAllister reported the fact to the major who came and put his glasses on the floor of the valley. What he saw shook him, but he retained his calm.
“I never thought to see so many Indians in my life,” he said.
“There’s the Cheyennes and most of the Sioux nations down there,” McAllister told him.
“If only I could get a man through to Towney,” the major said, “but nobody could go down there and live.”
McAllister flew into
a rage with himself. He knew he was going to do it and he despised himself as a damn fool. It was a man’s business in this world to survive and he didn’t owe anything to anybody. If he stayed up here on the bluff there was a slight chance of him getting out of this alive. If he went down there he wouldn’t stand a chance.
He heard himself say: “I’ll go.”
The major jerked a quick look at him.
“You mean that?”
“You’d better believe me before I change my mind,” McAllister snarled.
“You’d better wait for dark.”
McAllister said: “You bet your life I’ll wait till dark. You don’t think I’m damn fool enough to ride down there now, do you?”
Chapter 15
It was night.
A few stars were visible and all was still. Now and then the forbidding silence was broken by the sound of Indians calling in the valley below. While half the men dozed on their arms, the other half watched and listened for any sign of attack.
McAllister had the canelo saddled and ready.
“I ain’t tryin’ to get across the creek an’ the way down’s too steep. I could break my horse’s leg that way. The west side is a mite better, so I’ll go that way and ride around this bluff, get across the creek below here and just ride like hell for Towney.”
The major held out his hand and they gripped.
“I never had much time for civilian scouts,” he said. “I just changed my mind.”
“I never had much time for army officers,” McAllister told him. “Ditto.”
The sergeant came forward and slapped him on the arm. One or two of the men near, called their encouragement. McAllister saw it was time he was gone, things were starting to get sentimental.
“Just stay still till I’m well clear,” he said. “Not a shot fired. I don’t want an army bullet up my butt. There’ll be plenty of Indian ones comin’ my way.”
McAllister Fights Page 15
