A fine lot them red boys were & taller than you may think for the Indian Paint horse they raise up as a breed well these are small & betimes bowbacked but the Sioux & Cheyanne lads they are tall men some of them taller than manys the Bill sent to fight them. As well they appear stronger in the arm & shoulders on the whole with fine white teeth & long plaited hair shining with buffalo grease some with Eagle feathers in bands or larriots round their heads & some without & some wearing shirts of cotton or calico. Others their chests are bare & smooth & fat with muscle their necks hung in beads of every colour their fine horse bowed legs breeched in leather with fringes for to take away the rain from their flanks so they may ride in all weathers. And all of them did pure peacock about the Ft. & its surrounds making our own ugly shower of bluecoats feel small & plain as pea hens.
I tell you some even had rifles to make a sad soldier green with envy. One had a Sharps that our 1st Sgt. reckoned could only of been stolen from a dead coachman or prospector so fine a weapon it was. But all did carry skinning knives & bows slung cross their backs & quivers stuffed with arrows which we did soon see up close. Steel tipped & as fatal as any bullet they can run straight through a man if fired from near up enough. We could only guess at this then but know it well enough by now God Bless Us.
But them Braves were not there for scalping or fighting no more than ourselves wanting only for to slake the thirst of a long journey & to fill their bellies full of pies & boilt sweets from the post stores selling them. Most of all they was there to wager what they had on shooting & racing & wrestling or rodeo. Anything by Jove them Braves would bet on. 2 pissing flies I tell you & a wager on which would finish 1st making them much the same as your common soldier Bill. I have heard it said by some English & American boys that the Irish soldier is little better in his manners than the Indian & I have come to blows over this but both the Irishman & the Indian love wagering & fighting & supping so there is some common strain between us I will confess though now I hate the red b_______ as much as the English or more even.
But I did not feel this bitter hatred then & so we did wager agin them & they agin us & ourselves agin ourselves & them agin themselves. Well the bets did fly like winter geese over the two days of rest & recreation & in the betting we did learn a thing or 2 about them Braves.
Every soul in the country has heard of the Sioux & his horse but to see it up close is a wonder I shall thank God or the Devil some day for letting me see it. I lost 25¢ right off on Tom riding a race versus a Cheyanne fellow the 2 of them at speed having to lean off their mounts to snatch horse shoes from atop a barrel & hook them round spears stuck in the ground 200 yds. apart & my brother nearly took it I tell you but he was pipped at the post by that Brave on his short legged Paint. 1/2 a nag that Paint looked but a goer & it swung round them staked lances fast as a wife may change her mind. The Indian paints do not show much of beauty or might when put beside a white man’s Quarterhorse but they do go like lightning for the steeple & cover the miles without feed or water as no horse has the right to & no horse of ours can surely. I do imagine them Braves will rare up a finer strain of horse still from all the stock they thieved from us here in the past months & soon there will be no catching them.
But this was of no mind to us then for we saw what they could do & they saw what we could do & it comes to me now that we did not much impress them. Instead they perhaps became much boldened by our poor showing in the games of martial skill between us.
Did you ever see Sir them boys fire their bows? For most men who see it it is the last thing ever they see but there in Laramie we did wager some Braves a buck between 5 of us if 1 of their number could put a quiver full of arrows into a target on a tree from a 100 yds. away. Well in the setting of the wager with one of the Braves speaking between English & Sioux there did arise some confusion & the Indian to do the shooting understood he was to shoot from horseback when we meant nothing of the kind never thinking to ask for it. But up he got on his pony loosing 15 arrows in as much time as it takes a man to whistle Dixie keeping 2 or 3 in his fist at a time the bow twanging like a banjo string the next arrow in flight before the first had hit its mark as he galloped up one way & down the other 100 yds. or more from his goal. And all of them May God In Heaven Be My Witness struck home some splitting the shafts of the ones landed before them & deep in the tree they did lodge. I am telling you Sir you would need chop the tree down altogether to get them arrow heads back. I do not recall if this was done that day but it might of for Mr. Lo does not abide losing an arrow tip if he can reclaim it as they are made of iron or steel from melted skillets or the like or flattened & folded tin pales traded for furs & be hard enough to come by. Manys the time since coming to this valley I have seen them reaching down from horseback at full gallop for to reef them from the bodies of dead men on the ground which I now suppose makes the race Tom rode with the Brave to pick up the horseshoes of some use to them as practice surely.
But none of this did we think at Laramie for the days had the fine mood of a Fair. Puck Fair I did think at the time making me smile in a sad way of remembering fine days from Kerry summers past. Or it could be like the Horse Fair you have in Ballinasloe Sir you being a Galway man. It is a fine week out in Ballinasloe I am told & the Pow Wow at Ft. Laramie for 2 or 3 days was the same I tell you it was like the finest day of the finest summer you can picture in your head.
But you know as well as any man Sir that no Fair is a proper Fair without a few whores & Tom did not take long to find where his favourite wagon was set up & because he can betimes act a kind & thoughtful brother to me he asked if I cared to come with him away from the games & wagering for some sport of the softer kind at that very wagon.
Now in all God’s truth I had no mind to spend what little I had in the way of wages on such a rabble of whores. You see the Paymaster (God Bless Him!) had not factored on the number of men in camp that week in need of paying & did only issue us all 10$ each against our back pay & this I was happy to piss away on whiskey & gaming & cherry pie from Robber’s Row where the Sutlers sell their wares & not on whores at all. But something in my mind said to me that my brother may be in need of minding with him already gut deep in beer & Bust Head which is what we soldiers call trade whiskey stilled to kill them who care to drink it so I did consent to go with him & have a gander at the geese at least.
So we went forth through the Ft. passing the fine white tent they raised up on the parade ground for their talks with the Sioux & Cheyanne chiefs which in the heat they did open wide the flaps of for all the world to see them smoking the peacepipe good & proper while putting all the terrible troubles twixt White & Red to bed. Now you & me & the dog in the road knows it was but a sorry sham the whole lot of it for their Big Bugs in their eagle feathers who sat down with our Big Bugs with their polished brass & hanging braid for the Laramie Treaty talks well they were but a small crowd of peaceable Indians & could not speak for their more War minded brothers who we came to know so well here in this Valley of the Powder River. They could make no agreement them Chiefs no more than our gentleman Officers could speak for the multitudes of prospectors & panners tramping their way to the gold fields without permission or mind to seek it from the Government. What a sham all of it.
But nothing of this did we know then & thought it all a grand fine carnival with squaws in all their coloured beads with black braids thick as hemp ropes & skin as brown & clear as campfire coffee with fine fat babbies bound to their backs. Sure the squaws around Ft. Laramie them few days in their 100s were a different breed altogether from the ones we did be walking down to see in the Sutler’s 2nd wagon.
Well I am wandering in my words here & in time we did reach the wagon set a fair piece away from the all the others to the rear of the Ft. in a clearing of cutdown Cottonwoods by a brackish stream.
We would not be the first men there though it was quiet enough & peaceable with the sun still high in the afternoon sky. There was a kind of sail or tent cover strung from the wagon & propp
ed up by 2 lodge poles offering shade to the whores dozing on thick heaps of buffalo hide rugs & the Bills waiting their go up in the bed of the wagon. The whores did flick out at flies now & again with buffalo tail fans while 2 boys from I Company who we did know by sight sat supping whiskey on stumps that served as stools. The mule driver was there as well & this time he did not warn us off for what whoremaster runs off his custom when they have coins in the purse?
“2 bucks,” says he as we walked into the shade. Nary a “Fine Day” from him he was as rude as a land agent come for rent.
To spite his rudeness I did say, “2$? Fair steep for what is on offer.”
“Well 2 sheets or you can f___ a gopher hole,” says he not looking at me but at the brother as if he did fancy his chances.
I made to reply but Tom put his hand on my chest for to stop me. “2$ will do grand,” says he.
Says the skinner still looking at Tom but pointing at me, “2$ each if he wants his own poke. He ain’t to share yours.”
I did consider it a moment for standing there with money in my pocket nature’s hunger came upon me & I took a long look at the whores lounging there about the buffalo rugs. They are fat I will give them that which is the best thing about them with eyes puffed & at 1/2 mast with liquor & they were damp of brow in the dust & heat. One puffed a long stem pipe & another wore a forage cap no doubt forgotten by some drunken Bill. The 3rd whore took note of my looking & she lifted her skirts & tossed open her hams for to show me the thick black thatch about her privates. The two I Company boys on their stumps stared over at her c____ for a moment before turning back to their whiskey as if they had their fill of such a sight altogether & could not stomach another portion. The hunger I can tell you Sir went off me lickety quick with me thinking terrible thoughts of mercury cures & broke glass piss as sure to come with a visit to these whores as the sun is sure to rise in the morning. My prick did droop to think on it.
Says I, “No you may keep your wares. I will just set with these boys to wait.”
The muleskinner said nothing in return & instead turned to the back of the wagon & ordered them inside to put an end to their business. Tom did doff his kepi & made to fix up his hair with a whale ivory comb he won in a card game causing me to smile for it was like tying down lines on a sinking ship my brother trying to put his head right for to spark his whore.
“I will not tell you again,” says the muleskinner into the back of the wagon as I took a free stump nearby the I Company boys. Says he, “You button up & get your ass out the wagon.”
From inside the wagon came the voice of a man telling the skinner where to take himself & that he did not yet have his shot away & would G___ D____ have it as he paid for it.
The muleskinner smiled at this I tell you & cast an eye to my brother as if to say, “Look at this you ugly sonofabitch for here is a message for you.”
He then did climb up into the wagon & soon there was a fierce bellow of voices like cows in a burning shed it sounded & no more than a tick after this did a man come flying down from the back of the wagon to land in the dirt with an almighty thump his britches tangled about his boots. Next came the muleteer climbing from the wagon calm as a man coming down church steps while the boy on the ground jerked & wrestled with his kersey pants cursing the skinner for a 1/2 breed b______ who would have the blood draining from him before the sun hid behind the mountains.
Well that Bill had his britches part way up his legs when the skinner without so much as a Pardon Me let rip a terrible kick into his guts & up did come that boy’s breakfast like a cannon spewing grapeshot.
At this the two I Company boys sitting by me on the stumps took to their feet & moved for the skinner though one of them was so drunk he did skew wide & go for a gambol off in the scrub grass forgetting I reckon why he took to his feet in the 1st place & shortly he too was puking over a bush in fair contentment. The 2nd boy well I sat watching as he hove toward the skinner with his whiskey bottle held by the neck & glinting in the sun. Now this boy he did remember the reason for taking to his feet but remembering does not mean able & I made a small prayer for him to stop as he was unsteady on his feet & no match for an old aunt’s scolding never mind a proper scrap.
Well the skinner drew his knife from its scabbard & like the bottle in the drunk’s hand it too set to glinting in the sun & I got the feeling that he had fierce pride in that knife & kept it buffed up like a chalice on an altar & when the drunk saw it well Thanks Be To God he did get 2nd thoughts altogether about bashing that whore minder with the whiskey bottle & instead changed his tack to aid his retching friends 1st the one who took the kick & then the other.
The muleskinner looked at Tom & then to me & then back to Tom & I saw again there would be troubles to come between them. They are 2 boys cut from the same swatch of cloth with no fear of pain or dying 2 boys who would not shirk from anything God could bring upon them in light or darkness. Terrible troubles surely & well you & me know Sir whence them troubles did come & know too that they had their start as I told you Sir back in the Depot in Columbus when that clam tight c___ of a Sutler tried to ruse us into buying 2 cleaning kits when all we ever would need was 1.
But here I am driving the cart before the mule in my tale for that hot day there was no trouble just a far off rumble of it like thunder in a blue sky as happens here betimes in this valley. Fair warning like of a storm to come.
“2 bucks,” says the skinner to Tom again & Tom went to his pocket for the money his eyes locked tight on the skinner’s eyes like only sweethearts & killers do in this world.
“Sure you did tell us that already,” says my brother & his words were clear as a ringing church bell clear & as easy to reckon & did sound to my ears like a true American soldier sounds. To spite the trouble to come I did be proud of the way Tom sounded with his intentions to that muleskinning whore beater made right & clear for all to hear.
As Tom spoke the cutnose girl climbed down from the wagon causing my brother to break his eyes at last from the skinner & to raise his cap in salutation. She did not see this or did not care for it but instead walked behind the wagon & hiked her skirts for to wash herself. We turned away from seeing this even the muleskinner. My brother handed the skinner the money.
“There is 4 bucks there,” says Tom surprising me. “I will bide awhile with the girl. And my brother will have a bottle.”
“You just finish up when I call you,” says the skinner pocketing the bills & sheathing his blade. “And all will be hunky dorey.”
I sat on my stump & waited & gave the whores on the rugs no heed at all while the sound of sloshing water & wet rags was loud in the heat. The muleteer brought me a bottle of Bust Head from the front of the wagon & I did not thank him for it.
Shortly the cutnose girl finished her ablutions as is the saying & came round the wagon to take my brother by the hand & this time she did smile at Tom & he paid her back a smile such as none I seen him give another since that day at Chickamauga.
Trouble says I to myself then. Terrible troubles are coming & that did prove to be the truth of things as you can see.
2 DAYS LATER we broke camp & departed Laramie sore headed & sour breathed our souls aching with shame the way a fellow does oft feel after a skite.
Carrington’s parade again forged North away from the last bit we might ever see of civilisation so it did seem then. From this time of the march there is 1 strange thing I will always remember 1 thing that is stuck fast in my head & will not shake from it. That is when we passed the death scaffold (a pyre one boy called it) built for the daughter of one of the chiefs of the Sioux or Cheyanne I do not know which but he was called Spotted Tail this Chief.
Well in the way of the Indians he put his poor dead daughter (may her own God Rest Her) on a log frame & did not bury her in the earth at all but left her body there under the mighty blue bowl of the western sky atop this lodge pole frame for all the birds of the air to pick at & spread her bones about the place. Fierce st
range it was this custom & myself & my brother could not take our eyes from it as we passed slowly by her in silence the black ugly vultures perched upon her poor body their gobs besmirched with gore & not a sign of our Christian God anywhere around us. The horses were quiet too though they did show miscomfort with the blinking of their eyes. The silence was broke when Tom said to me, “What is that fool doing?”
He pointed as one of our boys rode his horse over to the pyre making the black birds take wing. That Bill (I will not tell you his name for he is no longer with us & I will not speak ill of the dead) well that fool of a soldier reached up to the pyre & pinched a beaded necklace that was hanging from the poles & put it round his horse’s ears. His horse did not like the reek of death upon it & begun to buck & whinny & so he hung it from his own neck laughing all the while the blaggard. He then reached up upon the scaffold & took down the poor dead girl’s hand & made to wave it at us in terrible jest with her hand of bone & only a small bit of meat upon it.
“Put that down you shit for brains!” roared Sgt. Nevin riding up & seeing this rotten jape all of us starting at his voice as if at a father’s & the soldier seeing the Company 1st Sgt. did drop the hand to the ground in a fright & gallop his mount back into formation.
“And take off them f______ bangles,” says Nevin. “You break out of step again I will put you in a f______ coffin do you hear me?”
“Yes Sgt. sorry Sgt.,” says that cursed Bill & sorry he soon was but he was smiling when he said it & though he took off them beads he did not put them back with their owner but instead stowed them in his saddle bag.
Says the brother to me in the Gaelic so he would not be understood by the others, “Do not ride near him now not after what he just done. Stay a piece away from him. The Indians will not take kindly to such carry on & there will be wigs on the green for it. Keep a horse or 2 tween yourself & that f_____.”
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