“I’m going to do you a favor and give you some information for free. Custer’s first draft of his report indicted you for dereliction of duty. It said that the reason you were late was because you were responsible for the poor horses and then took your own sweet time getting to the battle. You’re not alone. He also condemned Benteen and Reno.”
Ryder was stunned. “You can’t be serious. He was the one who insisted on the poor horses. It was a joke around the regiment that he hated the idea of machine guns taking the glory away from his cavalry.”
“He felt you should be court-martialed.”
“Son of a bitch!”
Kendrick laughed. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen. That report will never leave the camp. Terry knows the truth, as do a number of others. A sergeant named Haney told them what was happening and they put a halt to that nonsense. The only one in trouble is Reno and that’s because there are rumors that he was drunk. In the new and latest official version, you will be commended for recognizing the problem with the horses, replacing them, and riding like a bat out of hell to rescue Custer and what remained of his men. Along with a commendation, you will likely be promoted.”
“So why are you telling me all this?”
“I’m a reporter and I like to report the truth, and the truth is that Custer’s responsible for all the dead and wounded currently rotting on this hill. I’m going to write articles and perhaps even a book on this battle, only with my version showing the world just what a headstrong bastard Custer is. And I wouldn’t mind making a lot of money and a name for myself with it. On the other hand, I’m going to have to move quickly. Some very important people want him to run for president. If he becomes too powerful politically, his friends will protect him and the truth will never come out.”
“Thank you, I guess, but any early promotion will be resented by others.”
“Christ, Ryder, they’re not making you a general, just a first lieutenant. Even Sergeant Haney thinks you deserve it for saving his Irish ass. He’s recovering nicely and sends his regards.”
Ryder laughed. The last he’d seen of Haney was on the knob where Custer was making his final stand. He’d had arrows sticking out of him and looked like a human pincushion. Haney was highly regarded and it was good to have the older NCO’s concurrence with his actions.
“Assuming I actually am promoted, what will happen to me then?”
“If the political part of this gets as messy as I think it will, the Army is going to circle the wagons to protect one of their own, Custer, and you will be sent far, far away so nobody can ask you difficult questions. My guess would be Oregon or even Alaska, at least until things settle down.”
Oregon? Alaska? Ryder’s mind whirled. They were at the end of the world. What the hell had he done to deserve this? Why not just send him to Siberia? So much for being rewarded for doing the right thing, he mused. What the hell, at least he’d be promoted.
◆ Chapter 2 ◆
Libbie Custer stretched her bare legs under the silk cover and listened to her husband snore. It was comforting but also worrisome. He’d returned to the White House late after a meeting at the Willard Hotel with some political allies. As usual, since it was a political meeting where women weren’t welcome, she hadn’t been with him and she didn’t like that. She worried about what he might have agreed to. He was still so naïve when it came to politics and she didn’t want his presidency to become a national disgrace like Ulysses Grant’s had become. She accepted that she was by far the smarter of the two very ambitious people and that George needed her to control him as well as lead him. She and George were a team and a team should not make decisions without both members being present. She was not yet forty and some said she was even lovelier than she had been when she was twenty.
She and George were also still passionately in love and there were many times when they laughingly thought their White House lovemaking would wake the servants.
It could have been paradise, but it wasn’t. She acknowledged that George was in well over his head. If power corrupts, then he was also being corrupted. He’d begun drinking heavily and he seemed distracted by events he didn’t quite understand. She didn’t think he had a woman on the side, or, she laughed softly, on her back. However, if he did, she would exact the only form of revenge a woman could. She would betray and humiliate him as well, and he understood that.
Until and if that unlikely event occurred, she had two goals—protecting him and advancing his presidency.
Beside her, Custer stirred and yawned. “Libbie, I’m bored.”
“That, sir, is a terrible thing to say to a woman you just had your way with. Did my ripe and lovely naked body not please you?”
Only an hour before, she’d been awakened by the familiar feel of his hands roaming her body. He’d gotten her nightgown up to her shoulders and had discarded the silk pajamas from India that she’d given him for his birthday. She’d responded eagerly and matched him stroke for stroke after he’d entered her. When they were finished and he seemed to be dozing, she wondered why so many of her married friends felt uncomfortable with sex. Why did they feel that it was a chore to be endured instead of a pleasure to be savored? For all his faults, she immensely enjoyed having sex with him.
Still, she wondered at his comment.
“How can the President of the United States and master of all he surveys be bored?”
“Because it’s a boring damn job, that’s why. Nothing has happened since I was elected, and nothing will. I also had that damn dream again. Once again I was lying on the ground with a bunch of Sioux standing there and laughing at me. Then one of them reaches down and starts scalping me.”
She stroked his head. “And that’s when you awake, because it is only a dream.”
His notoriety as the man who had subdued the Sioux, as a reporter named Kendrick had put it, had carried him all the way to the White House. He had been nominated as the Republican candidate for president, defeating the other Republican nominee, James Garfield, in the primaries. And later he had narrowly defeated former Civil War general and Democratic candidate, Winfield Scott Hancock, in the general election of 1880.
Yet George, or Autie as his family had sometimes called him before his brothers were killed, was correct. He was serving at a time when not much was occurring in the United States. The Indians had been reduced to a minimal menace and there was peace in the land. Europe might be in turmoil with the Prussians trying to gobble it up, but those wars were far away. The Reconstruction Era of the south was over and those former Confederate states were now free to do whatever they wished. That this meant suffocating the desires of the newly freed Negroes was of no concern to him, or most other people for that matter.
“Libbie, I am terribly afraid that my four, or, God forbid, eight years as president, will be as little more than a night watchman. I’ll become a footnote in history like some other presidents such as Fillmore or Pierce or my own predecessor, Rutherford B. Hayes. I need something exciting to fulfill me. I need to accomplish something important. I need to start a war.”
Libbie sat up. Her nightgown was still above her waist and he grinned at the sight of her exposed body. “You can’t be ready again,” she chided him playfully as she saw his eyes widen. If he was indeed ready she would be as well. “Now, let’s talk about a war. Who would you want to fight? Clearly, it can’t be the Indians again.”
She got up and walked barefoot across the bedroom. “Nor can it be the Mexicans. They’ve done nothing to provoke us and Congress will not let you just up and invade them. We did that once already. Somebody has to start the war and it can’t be the United States. The nation is still recovering from horrors of the Civil War.”
Custer yawned. “And that also leaves out the nations of Central and South America. They’re all too helpless and too far away and besides, they’d never start anything against us.”
“Agreed, George. Therefore, it must be a European power. However, we must choose carefully. Great Britain is out. Not on
ly is she too powerful, but our economic ties with her are too close. War with Great Britain would be a total disaster. France is too powerful as well, although we very nearly did fight them at the end of the Civil War. They do hate us, so let’s keep them in mind for the future. But right now, they are too mighty. Their navy is second only to Britain’s.”
George smiled at the memory. The French had backed a puppet emperor in Mexico—a pliant fool named Maximilian—and sent troops to support him in violation of America’s Monroe Doctrine. With the Civil War raging, Lincoln did nothing. After the war, an army under General Phil Sheridan was sent to the Rio Grande with the clear message that the French Army in Mexico had to leave. They did and poor Maximilian wound up in front of a firing squad while his mentally ill wife fled to Europe. Neither George nor Libbie would mind rubbing France’s nose in the dirt, but, again, would the French oblige by starting a conflict that the U.S. could win? Probably not, they concluded. The French had their own internal conflicts tormenting them. Their Third Republic had begun with a massive bloodbath.
Germany was a newly created nation dominated by the always belligerent Prussians. She was still trying to get organized, although she might be a possible combatant in the future. But Germany too was doubtless already too strong for America to fight after she’d defeated both France and Austria. Also understood was the fact that Germany and the United States were almost half a world away and couldn’t reach each other.
Italy, an equally new nation, was immersed in internal problems and was also far, far away.
They decided that the Ottomans would make marvelous enemies and not just because they were Moslems who’d abused Americans decades earlier. But they too were far away and doubtless cared nothing about starting a war with the United States. Ottoman ships in the Mediterranean had captured American merchantmen and held their crews as hostages, but that was in the past.
The lands of Asia were already being carved up by the Great Powers. Perhaps the U.S. could slice off a piece of China or Japan, but for what purpose? No, Asia was out.
“Russia?” he asked. “Maybe we could get them to attack us because they want Alaska back.”
“I don’t think so, George. And besides, they are almost our allies.”
He laughed. “You’re right, and who would ever want Alaska returned to them?”
Libbie smiled like a cat. “That leaves Spain.”
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully, “Spain. Her remaining possessions in the Caribbean are close by and always on the verge of exploding. The Spanish are corrupt and keep slaves, even though they’ve begun to abolish slavery. We can provoke something and a war can easily follow. The Spanish are nothing militarily and we’ll have an easy victory.”
She pulled the nightgown over her head and watched him revel in the sight of her naked body. Even though it was mid-morning, the servants knew enough not to enter without being invited. She saw that he was aroused again and it pleased her. Controlling him with her sex was so easy. It was even better because she truly loved him and wanted him to be a great man.
She ran her hand down his chest and belly and began to stroke him. “First, George, you will finish what you are obviously about to start and then we’ll go about provoking Spain. When we’re done with Spain you will have become one of America’s great presidents.”
Custer laughed and pulled her body to him. What a hell of a woman, he thought. I am the luckiest man in the world.
* * *
The Eldorado was a decrepit wooden steamship of about fifteen hundred tons and she was stuffed with military supplies for the insurgents fighting Spanish oppression in Cuba. At least that’s what journalist James Kendrick had written in his notebook. Unfortunately, he hadn’t gotten much farther in his writing because he didn’t quite believe it. The peasant revolution in Cuba was in a quiet phase, so why the rush to arm a population that wasn’t doing anything? There had been a long revolutionary war in Cuba that was now quiet, with both sides suffering from severe exhaustion.
Along with the guns and ammunition, about a hundred men, mostly Americans, were coming along as volunteers. To do what, Kendrick wondered. At the moment, that question was a minor concern. A Spanish gunboat was approaching them and gaining quickly. The Eldorado’s captain had his ship fleeing as fast as it could, but it was a sick turtle racing against a rabbit. Kendrick thought that was clever and wrote it down.
Worse, the crew and passengers had nothing but rifles and sidearms to protect themselves and those they’d taken from the ship’s hold. They’d been disgusted and dismayed to find that the weapons being shipped to Cuba were rusty and most didn’t work. Some even dated to well before the Civil War. It was clear that someone had unloaded a large quantity of junk for a huge profit. Some of the young American warriors now looked frightened. It occurred to Kendrick that he should feel that way too.
When the Spanish gunboat was less than a hundred yards away, she pulled alongside and ordered the Eldorado to heave to. Faced with a pair of cannons and a host of armed men lining the rails, the Eldorado’s captain was about to surrender when shots rang out. Some of the undisciplined American volunteers had begun shooting and others followed suit. Kendrick watched in horror as several Spanish soldiers were hit and fell, with one dropping into the water and disappearing.
The Spaniards returned fire almost immediately. Their cannons were loaded with grape and their shells swept the deck of the Eldorado with flying metal, while the Spanish soldiers fired into what was now a confused mob of Americans. As shells struck the ship, Kendrick threw himself on the deck and tried to make himself invisible. Shells ripped the wooden hull and deck, sending knife-like splinters through the air. He screamed as one imbedded itself in his cheek. He pulled it out and blood began to pour down his face and chest.
Only a few moments later, armed Spaniards climbed over the gunwale and killed those foolish enough to still be carrying weapons. The others, including Kendrick, were gathered in a bunch by the bow. The reporter in him estimated maybe thirty survivors. The Eldorado’s captain was not one of them.
An officer approached the group. “Which one of you is the journalist named Kendrick?”
Kendrick was surprised. He stepped forward and tried to look as unconcerned as he could. “I am James Kendrick, sir, and you are?”
“My name is Gilberto Salazar. I am a major in the Spanish Army. I am delighted that you were not harmed,” he said with thinly veiled sarcasm. “We have been following the course of this wreck since it left Charleston several days ago. You Americans think we are stupid and ignorant of the ship’s intentions, but we are not. Our spies have been well informed about this stinking ship and its cargo, both human and otherwise. You have come to start another civil war and to free the slaves who are already being freed.” He waved his arm at the other prisoners. “These men will be executed for their efforts.”
Kendrick’s mind worked quickly. “You are not counting me among the invaders?”
Salazar laughed. “I would like to, but men more important than I want you to witness the justice we will be handing out.”
“A small point, Major, but aren’t we in international waters? Should you have stopped an American-flagged ship in international waters, or any other ship, for that matter?”
Salazar looked about dramatically. There was no sign of land on the horizon. “You are that good at judging distances? I assure you that we are well within Spanish territorial waters. I suggest that you accept that declaration as a fact and not annoy me.”
Kendrick decided that it was an excellent idea. Just as important, he wondered how Salazar knew his name along with all the information about the ship. Obviously, the Spanish had spies in the group that had chartered the Eldorado.
“What will happen to these men, and me, for that matter?”
“Watch,” Salazar said.
He gave a signal and his soldiers pushed the men, now screaming in terror, into the ocean. Kendrick watched in horror as their heads bobbed in the waves.
Soldiers lined the ship’s railing and began shooting at them. In a few seconds there were no more heads bobbing in the water, just an occasional red stain that was being swallowed and erased by the sea.
Kendrick was so stunned that he nearly fell to his knees. Laughing soldiers held him upright. Finally, he regained some of his composure. Salazar stood in front of him and slashed him across the face with the flat of a short sword, splitting his cheek and adding to the blood from the splinter.
“I was ordered to bring you back alive. Nothing was said about keeping you unhurt. You are far from innocent, Kendrick, and while I would like to throw you overboard as well, Spain has uses for you. We will scuttle the Eldorado, after first taking anything of value, of course. Then we will steam to Florida and drop you off at St. Augustine. I urge you to write a full and accurate report of what you have seen this day. Let your foolish and arrogant people understand that Spain is a great power and we will not be insulted by your sending miserable abolitionist revolutionaries into Cuba.”
* * *
Alfonso XII, King of Spain, was shaken by the news of American outrage over what they were referring to as the “Freedom Ship Massacre.” Away from the crowds of courtiers and sycophants who roamed the halls of the Palacio Real in Madrid, he had directed both his current and former prime ministers to meet with him in secret. There was so much emotion in Madrid that any open meeting might cause an explosion of panic.
The king was young, only in his mid-twenties, and his family had only recently taken power after a bloody civil war that had ripped Spain. This made him feel insecure. As the leader of the Spanish empire, he had to show strength in the face of this crisis with the United States. The Spanish empire might be only a shadow of what it had been in the past, but it could not be trifled with.
Nor was the king particularly healthy. He suffered from a number of illnesses which weakened him. The king was considered a liberal and had planned reforms to make Spain a freer country, but the news from the United States had pushed those thoughts aside. Spanish honor and its empire had to be protected. And he had to maintain his tenuous hold on the throne. Showing weakness was not an option.
1882: Custer in Chains Page 2