Glory's Guidons (The Long-Knives US Cavalry Western Book 3)

by Patrick E. Andrews

  “I’m pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Pepperdine said.

  “Emma teaches school for the soldiers’ children,” Mrs. Dearborn told him. “Before you know it all our little darkies will be able to read and write along with doing arithmetic.”

  “Most commendable,” Pepperdine acknowledged.

  “It’s the least we can do,” Mrs. Norton said. “We freed them from slavery then thrust them into our society without a bit of preparation.”

  “It will be interesting to see how they adapt,” Pepperdine remarked.

  “Why are we standing around?” Mrs. Dearborn said. “Let’s take our seats.” She took Pepperdine’s arm once more. “You sit here with Lieutenant Blakely. That’ll put you right across from Lieutenant and Mrs. Norton. We can’t have you sitting too close to Captain Delaney, can we? Being that he’s your company commander you two might have a tendency to talk shop and that’s not what these meals are all about.”

  Pepperdine obediently took his chair. Mrs. Dearborn rang a little bell by her plate which brought an immediate appearance of the young black man who had announced dinner. He was followed by three more soldiers who began serving the meal. Their dexterity and correctness was the result of countless rehearsals and instructions by the commander’s wife. They didn’t mind the work done after duty hours since the lady paid them three dollars a month to work as servers.

  After they dispensed the food and withdrew, Mrs. Dearborn turn to Pepperdine. “Will you say grace, Lieutenant?”

  “Ma’am?”

  She smiled politely. “I was wondering if you would care to recite a prayer of thanksgiving for us?”

  Pepperdine’s face reddened. “I’m afraid I’m not accustomed—“

  Delaney interrupted. “Mister Pepperdine doesn’t know any prayers I would say.”

  Mrs. Dearborn’s smile was now strained. “In that case, Captain Delaney, perhaps you would care to render up thanks to the Lord for this food on our table.”

  “I would not, madam,” Delaney replied.

  Blakely, the fat quartermaster, stepped into the breach. “I shall be happy to recite grace.”

  “Very well, Lieutenant Blakely,” Mrs. Dearborn said. “You may proceed.”

  Blakely bent his head down, accentuating his double chin. “Heavenly-Father-we-thank-You-for-this-bountiful-feast-You-have-provided-for-us-in-Jesus’-name-amen.”

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Dearborn said. “That was very quick, but I’m sure God will find it acceptable.”

  “Pass the stew, please,” Delaney said.

  Mrs. Dearborn was no longer smiling. “Captain Delaney adds so much to these gatherings, don’t you think so?”

  “Mr. Pepperdine also adds some sophistication as well,” Delaney said. “In fact, he is somewhat of a celebrity. His uncle is adjutant general of the army.”

  Mrs. Dearborn’s face broke into a wide smile. “Is that so? How terribly, terribly interesting!”

  Delaney pointed his fork at the young lieutenant. “So he probably won’t be with us much longer. He’s putting in for a transfer as soon as possible.”

  “Well, I don’t blame him,” Mrs. Dearborn said. “There must be openings in other regiments for qualified and faithful officers as well. After all, one doesn’t come out of West Point with the expectations of serving permanently in a colored unit, does one?”

  “I prefer to exercise propriety regarding my assignment here,” Pepperdine stated.

  Captain Porter grinned at the young officer. “Trouble at West Point, hey, Pepperdine? The general is going to let you stew out here with us for a while, hey?”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Delaney said. “After a respectable amount of time our Mr. Pepperdine will get his heart’s desire and join his more fortunate friends back east.”

  “But, sir—“ Pepperdine started to protest.

  “Never mind,” Mrs. Dearborn said, cutting him short. “Your future in the army is assured.”

  Pepperdine tried again. “I’m not really asking for—“

  “You are most fortunate in being from an army family,” Mrs. Dearborn said, barging in once more. “Harrison and I have managed our situation in our own fashion.”

  “I’m not really from an army family. Only my uncle is in the service. My father is a lawyer in Boston when he’s not involved in politics.”

  “Politics?” Delaney asked. “My God! Things will be going your way won’t they, Mr. Pepperdine?”

  “Oh, never mind!” Mrs. Dearborn said. “Give our regards to your uncle when you write him, please, Mr. Pepperdine.” She turned to address the table as a queen might her court. “Has anyone been to the post flower garden lately? I had wanted to visit it today, but I just never got around to it.” Glad that she was in control of the table again, Mrs. Dearborn began a discourse on the subject ready to stare down any interruptions from the other diners.

  Pepperdine ate slowly, glad that the conversation had turned away from him. He scarcely tasted his meal as his mind drifted along with the table talk.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Emma Norton suddenly exclaimed.

  “Whatever’s the matter, dear?” Mrs. Dearborn asked.

  “I just remembered that Mr. Pepperdine has no stove in his quarters. The one that was there is in ours now.” There was a moment of embarrassment as they remembered the reason for the transfer of the heater in the first place. This did not bother Emma Norton in the least. She turned to Blakely. “Have you no replacement as of yet?”

  Blakely took one more bite before answering. “It’s on requisition. That’s the best I can do. Probably won’t be here before early fall.”

  Emma turned to Pepperdine. “In that case you must take your lunches with us. It’s the least we can do.”

  “I don’t wish to be an imposition,” Pepperdine said.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Pepperdine, you won’t be,” Delaney said. He looked over at Emma. “I’m afraid the young lieutenant will be lunching on hardtack and coffee in L Company’s orderly room during the time he’s in garrison. There’s a lot of paperwork that has to be caught up.”

  Emma Norton was too good an army wife to offer a protest. “Perhaps on those rare occasions when he is able, he would like to enjoy a hot noontime meal with Lieutenant Norton and myself.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Norton,” Pepperdine said. “Whenever I have the opportunity I will certainly be delighted to do so.”

  Delaney snorted. “You’d better develop a taste for hardtack, Mr. Pepperdine.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well! I’m glad that’s settled then,” Mrs. Dearborn said. She tinkled the little bell at her plate to have the dishes cleared away and the dessert brought on. “You haven’t given us your first impressions of your new regiment yet, Lieutenant Pepperdine.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to get a good look at it yet, Mrs. Dearborn.”

  The waiters appeared and rapidly removed the dinner dishes and replaced them with cake and fresh dessert forks before once again disappearing back into the kitchen.

  “I think serving in a colored regiment is a unique experience,” Mrs. Dearborn said. “The lessons learned here should serve my husband well for any new duty assignments that might arise.”

  “It will be interesting to see just how rapidly the Negro will be able to progress in our society,” Emma remarked.

  “They won’t progress a bit,” Porter said.

  “They’ll eventually be sent back to Africa,” Captain Fenton said, breaking his silence. “Within a generation or two they will revert to the savage and that will be the end of that.”

  This new turn of conversation interested Pepperdine. He addressed himself to Emma Norton. “Do you find them educable?”

  “I’ve enjoyed great success. My opinion of the coloreds has been altered sharply by my experience with the youngsters in the post school.”

  “You must spend a good deal of your time just trying to keep the little monkeys’ attention,” Porter said.

  “
These children were born slaves,” Emma said. “They did not spring from an environment that encouraged intellectual exercise. In fact, many of the southern states forbade teaching coloreds even rudimentary reading and writing.”

  “Oh, hell, Emma!” her husband said drunkenly. “They’re just a bunch of stupid pickaninnies who’ll grow up to be dull-witted adult coloreds. A little reading and arithmetic won’t change nature.”

  “You’re right, Norton,” Porter said.

  “I think it best that they be returned to their ancestral grounds,” Fenton said, keeping to his point. “They’ll be nothing but inferiors no matter how long they associate with the white race. I’m certain that a few might attain success, but it would be kinder to simply send them all home and let nature take its course. They’ll be left alone, unless they settle on some land that proves to have some value of one kind or another. Then the superior white will move in and shuffle them off to someplace else.”

  “Like we are doing the Indians?” Emma asked, her voice strained.

  “Exactly,” Porter said. “It’s nature and has been going on for thousands of years between great nations and inferior peoples. It’s ordained.”

  “Amen,” Fenton said looking meaningfully at Emma. “And a few misguided whites can’t change that. In being kind, these erring zealots are crueler than even the most callous slave master.”

  Emma smiled, looking Fenton directly in the eye. “But aren’t we glad we have our Negroes here today? If not, we’d all be out of the army and scrambling to eat on the outside.”

  Her remarks angered Porter. “There is a constant implication in this regiment that if it weren’t for its existence we would all be starving. Madam, I am pleased to inform you that my life is not one of army or starve, and I resent anyone who would consider it so!”

  “Why I mean to imply no such thing, Captain,” Emma said still smiling. “That would be stark, muddleheaded prejudice.”

  Mrs. Dearborn turned to Pepperdine. “What do they think of colored soldiers at West Point, Lieutenant?”

  “I’ve never heard the matter discussed,” Pepperdine replied. “In fact, I wasn’t aware there were any such units on the army’s list until I received my commission.”

  “Well, if you’re stuck here I guess there’s not much to be done about it,” Porter conceded. “I contacted everyone I knew about getting into Custer’s Seventh Cavalry when they were formed up, but it didn’t do me a bit of good.”

  “Rotten luck,” Blakely said, finishing his cake. “But I must confess I’m quite content to be where I am. Not too much is expected of us and I figure that as long as I remain proficient in my duties, I shall lead a most ordered life, even way out here.”

  Delaney laughed. “Wait until you’re a captain with over thirty years’ service. Then I’ll wager our bubbling plump boy here will be a more embittered man.”

  “On the contrary, sir,” Blakely smiled agreeably. “I shall be a bubbly, plump old captain, excited about the prospect of retiring back east to a life of leisurely poverty.”

  “Amen,” said Porter.

  “I suppose that’s what we all have to look forward to,” Emma Norton said. “Still it’s better than a lot of people have.”

  Mrs. Dearborn started to speak again but a loud slamming of doors and the pounding of boots coming from the headquarters office area interrupted her. The door suddenly burst open and a disheveled, excited civilian stood catching his breath.

  Major Dearborn stood up. “Mr. Leighton, is something amiss?”

  The man named Leighton spoke in a tone of urgency. “Running Horse has jumped the agency with some of his followers.”

  “When?” Delaney asked, also getting to his feet.

  “About six hours ago,” Leighton said. “He tied me and Strong Bear up, then ransacked the agency store and went off after setting fire to it.”

  “Would you care for some coffee?” Mrs. Dearborn asked, tinkling her little bell again.

  “How many went with him?” Delaney asked.

  “I don’t know, Ambrose, I came over here as soon as I got loose. Strong Bear and I were tied up.”

  Mrs. Dearborn’s smile never faded. “Mr. Leighton, I would like to introduce you to Lieutenant Pepperdine, our newest officer. Just arrived today.”

  “How do,” Leighton said scarcely acknowledging the young man.

  “Mr. Leighton is our Indian agent here,” Mrs. Dearborn explained.

  “I think we better retire to the office,” Delaney said. “Pardon, ladies.”

  The men, including Major Dearborn, trooped obediently after Delaney. When they entered the room, a corporal, sitting at a desk, leaped to attention.

  Leighton began addressing his remarks to the older captain. “There was another squabble over the beef shipment. Strong Bear and I tried to calm things down, but Running Horse just went crazy. He made a big speech, then they jumped us. They bound me and Strong Bear back to back and every one of them damned Indians started tearing the agency store apart. They took everything that wasn’t nailed down. Then the rascals set the place on fire. It was a good thing I was tied up with Strong Bear or I’d been throwed in there to roast. As it was they just left us out in the yard all trussed up. We finally worked ourselves loose and I came straight here.”

  Delaney turned to Pepperdine. “Looks like you’ll see active service before you expected it. We’ll take L Company out and track down Running Horse.”

  “Yes, sir,” Pepperdine said, smiling with excitement.

  Delaney took the corporal by the arm. The man had remained standing at attention by the wall, awed by the sudden appearance of all the post’s officers in one room. “Tell the duty bugler to sound assembly for L Company.”

  “Yes, suh!” the soldier said, rushing out the door. He was glad to escape the presence of the august body that represented so much authority in his life.

  Mrs. Dearborn peeked in through the door. “Is everything all right?”

  Major Dearborn smiled. “A bit of trouble at the agency, dear, just like Mr. Leighton said. I’ve ordered Captain Delaney out.”

  “And I’d better get a move on,” Delaney said. “Blakely, do me a favor and see to it that Mr. Pepperdine is properly outfitted for a long patrol. Get him a good mount and any extra items he might need. And also both a carbine and a revolver.”

  “Surely,” Blakely said, agreeable as always. He turned to the new officer. “Come on, Lieutenant, let’s gird your loins to do battle.”

  Pepperdine was overwhelmed. “Yes, yes, we must attend to this right away. I’m really not sure of what I should take with me.”

  “Don’t’ worry,” Blakely said leading him out the door toward the quartermaster’s office. “I’ll have you looking like a veteran campaigner within half an hour.”

  “I would most assuredly appreciate that,” Pepperdine said, hurrying along.

  The bugler was sounding the quick, impatient notes of assembly as they scurried across the garrison yard.

  Chapter Four

  L Company, with Delaney at its head, galloped into the crowd of Indians milling around the trading post. A few, stimulated by the unexpected attack on the agency building, shouted their defiance at the soldiers before scattering out of the way. The structure was completely burnt down with hot glowing embers floating like luminescent insects through the darkness of the summer night.

  Delaney formed his men into a large circle around the yard, and held them there, carbines at the ready. “Strong Bear!” he called out. “Where is Strong Bear?”

  An ancient Indian stepped through the crowd of his fellow tribesmen, approaching Delaney with an upraised arm. “Hello, Dah-lah-nay,” Strong Bear said. “You go get the sumbitch Running Horse.”

  “I’ll do that, Strong Bear.”

  “You shoot that sumbitch, Dah-lah-nay. He a bad Injun.”

  “Maybe I’ll do that too. But I want to talk to you first.”

  “We talk. Then you go get that sumbitch,” the angry old m
an fumed. “You tell them buffalo soljers to get that sumbitch.”

  Pepperdine was fascinated with this first intimate encounter with a real Indian. His wide-eyed stare caught old Strong Bear’s attention.

  “You go too,” the Indian said. “You help Dah-lah-nay get that sumbitch. You and buffalo soljers.”

  “What are buffalo soldiers?” Pepperdine asked Delaney.

  “He’s referring to the Negroes,” Delaney answered. “Their hair resembles that of the buffalo. Since the Indians almost worship those animals, I would presume they mean the eponym as complimentary.”

  Strong Bear grabbed Delaney’s arm. “Come! Come! I show you where that sumbitch Running Horse go.”

  “Just calm down, Strong Bear.” Delaney said. “I’m not going to chase after him now. It’s too dark and he’s had a big head start on us. We’ll spend the night here and make sure there’s no more trouble. That’s how I want you to help me.”

  “No! No! You go now. Ride fast, no stop, no sleep. You catch that sumbitch, Dah-lay-nay. He a bad Injun. Tie me up like squaw.”

  “We’re going to wait here. Major Dearborn has sent for Jim Rivers. He’s going to scout for us.”

  Strong Bear loosed his grip on Delaney and took hold of Pepperdine. The old man started to speak, then realized he didn’t know the youngster. “Who you?”

  “I’m Pepperdine.” There was a slight quiver in his voice despite his efforts to control it.

  “You listen to Strong Bear, Papa-dane. Dah-lah-nay is too old. You take ’em buffalo soljers and get that sumbitch Running Horse. What you say, Papa-dane?”

  “I’m really afraid—“

  “Hey! You no ’fraid, Papa-dane. Running Horse bad Injun. Tell buffalo soljers follow you and get that sumbitch.”

  “He’s not afraid of Running Horse,” Delaney said. “He’s afraid of me. Now leave him alone and get back to calming your people before things get worse.”