“Colonel, I don’t have that many friends up in that area. That’s Crow, Nez Perce, and Gros Ventre country. And you know as well as I do that they are heavily armed and spoiling for a fight with Sitting Bull’s warriors and the Cheyenne. The Nez Perce and Gros Ventre I can talk with; the Crows hate me and you know why.”
“If you don’t want the job, Bodine, just say so.”
“You don’t have anyone else to send, do you?”
“No, I don’t. Not nearly as qualified as you, that is.”
Bodine suddenly smiled. “I might take a friend with me.
Travers groaned, knowing full well what friend he was talking about. “Bodine! . . .”
“You want me to take the job or not?”
Travers sighed and held up a hand. “All right, Bodine, all right. Do it your way. You’ve got a couple of weeks to decide how best to approach it. And here is something else to think about: George Custer is making big talk about how he would deal with the Indian problem.”
“Yellow Hair is a pompous jackass!”
“True. But you didn’t hear me say that,” Travers added with a smile. “Whatever our personal feelings, George is a very capable soldier.”
“He’s going to get a lot of people killed, Colonel. Mark that down in your book. I don’t know where or when, but Yellow Hair is heading for a lot of bad trouble and a hard fall.” He stood up. “All right, Colonel. I’ll ride for the north. I’ll leave in a week. I want to see my folks before I go.”
* * *
Bodine headed south, out of Montana and into Wyoming, back into his home range. He followed trails that he had been riding since he was just a boy.
He crossed the Clear and then, twelve miles later, forded the Crazy Woman, riding up to his parents’ ranch just in time for supper.
“Good Lord, boy,” his mother told him, after kissing his cheek and stepping back to look at him. When’s the last time you had a bath!”
Bodine grinned at her. “ ’Bout four days ago, I reckon.”
She pointed to the house and stamped her foot. “Go!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bodine said, and went, while his father stood and grinned at him.
Sarah Bodine watched her oldest go into the house. His father waved at an old ranchhand and pointed at Bodine’s horse. The old man was one of the few who could handle the mean-eyed stallion named Rowdy. And even then, it was an uneasy truce.
“He’ll be twenty-five in August, Matthew. Where have the years gone?”
“Good years, mother. They were so good, we didn’t even notice they were passing by.”
Bodine’s younger brother, Carl, was third in command of the ranch, with the foreman being the number two man. His sister, Betty, was seventeen and looking around for a husband. She had her eyes on an unsuspecting young man from a nearby town, only some thirty-five miles away, to the east. Some folks predicted great things for the little village of Gillette.
While Bodine was soaping and scrubbing, bellowing out a slightly bawdy song, Betty stole his clothes and when Bodine stepped out of the wooden tub, he found he was left with only his boots and gunbelt. He wore one holster in front and the other in back while he beat it to his room, cussing under his breath while his family had a good laugh at his expense.
Betty made up with her brother by baking a huge apple pie, sprinkled lavishly with cinnamon and sugar and topped with a big hunk of homemade cheese. Bodine vocally forgave her, but his sister knew from the gleam in her brother’s eyes that she’d be wise to inspect her bed very carefully before retiring, because there was most probably going to be a dead fish under the covers, at best; a live grass snake, at the worst.
When Bodine indicated he had things to say after supper, there was no talk of the ladies doing the dishes while the men discussed matters of great importance. This was still the wild frontier, and women shared in everything: the good times, the bad times, the heartbreak, and the danger. The whole family took coffee and sat out on the front porch.
“Seen your blood brother lately, son?” the father asked.
“A few days ago, up north of here. He’s fine. Sends his best. He’d like to see you all but conditions being what they are, he knew you’d understand why it was best he stayed away.”
“Medicine Horse came by the other night. He’s worried.”
“He should be. I have to go away for about a month. While I’m gone, I want you to stock up on ammunition. It’d be good if each hand had at least two hundred and fifty rounds. No one rides alone. No Cheyenne is going to bother us. And probably most Sioux aren’t. But there are always going to be little renegade bands looking to lift some hair and make a name for themselves.”
“Trouble coming, son?”
“Bunches of it. If this country can survive the next year or eighteen months, we’ll be sitting home free for the most part.”
“Those damn politicians aren’t going to try to back out on agreements with the Indians, are they?”
His son’s silence gave him his answer.
“Medicine Horse and his people?”
“He’ll have to fight, father. He’ll have no choice in the matter.”
“I thought we’d seen the worst back in ’66, with Red Cloud and Crazy Horse and the army fighting over at Reno and Phil Kearny and C.F. Smith.”
“Nothing like what is yet to come, I’m guessing,” Bodine spoke softly.
* * *
Bodine spent the next few days letting Rowdy get a good long rest with all the corn he could eat. He knew that after three days of inactivity, the big stallion would be tearing down the barn and terrorizing the other horses in an effort to get back on the trail.
Bodine chose and packed his supplies carefully, with his dad remarking, “Looks like you’re packing for two, there, boy.”
“Could be, Dad.”
“Two Wolves throws a pretty wide loop, son. He was spotted over on the Clear a couple of months back.”
“He swings wide, that’s for sure. But I pity the men who ever try to take him.”
“It might be you someday, son. You ever think about that?”
Son faced father. “I’ve thought of it. So far, though, he hasn’t done anything worth killing over, to my mind.”
“There are those who won’t agree with you.”
Bodine smiled, and the father struggled to keep from backing away from those cold eyes. “Not to my face, they won’t.”
Chapter 4
Bodine pulled out under a sky filled with stars, pointing Rowdy’s nose north. The huge stallion was ready to go, having had his fill of lollygagging about in a barn. He was a horse meant for the wide-open sky and the trails of the plains and the mountains.
Bodine topped a ridge just at dawn and found himself face to face with a dozen Cheyenne. They were not painted for war, but they were traveling light, and were heavily armed. And they were not of Medicine Horse’s lodges. Several of them had bloody scalps tied onto their reins. Crow scalps, from the look of them. Probably scouts the band had ambushed.
“Bo-dine,” a young sub-chief said. Bodine noticed there were two fresh scalps tied to the mane of the subchief’s horse. “Does Bo-dine ride to help the soldiers who are preparing to invade us to the north?”
So much for the secrecy of the mission. “I ride in search of my brother, Two Wolves. It is my hope that Two Wolves will ride with me to the north, to talk among the tribes, to let the soldiers come and go in peace—as long as the soldiers do not break the peace.”
The sub-chief grunted. Bodine could see that he saw the logic in that idea, even though he was opposed to more soldiers.
“You know my name, but I do not know yours.”
“I am Ma it sish o mi o.”
“I have heard of Pushing Ahead. You are said to be a great warrior. Around the fires, many songs have been sung about you.”
The sub-chief straightened on his horse and swelled his chest. “And songs have been sung about Bo-dine. I have sung songs about Bo-dine.”
; “I am humbled and honored.”
“Two Wolves is on the mountain,” Pushing Ahead said, pointing north. He turned his pony’s head and led his band away from Bodine.
Bodine sat his saddle and watched the Northern Cheyenne until they had faded into the hills, heading east. Bodine swung Rowdy’s head and rode straight east for an hour, before once more cutting north.
That the Northern Cheyenne were this far south worried him. It could mean that a gathering had been called for, and that meant trouble.
Bodine thought about the country west of him. If a gathering had been called for, and he was the site-chooser, Bodine would pick the Rosebud Mountain area; maybe even close to the Little Bighorn.
* * *
“They know about the expedition, Bodine,” Two Wolves said. “When it is over, there will be much dancing and feasting as the scalps dry on the lodge poles.”
“No, Two Wolves. That cannot be allowed to happen.”
Two Wolves smiled. “Did I say the scalps would be hair from the soldiers? You are reading things into my words that are not there, Bodine.”
Bodine put a hand on Two Wolves’ forearm. “Brother, there must be no trouble.”
The half-breed sighed. “There are three hundred lodges of Crows.” He drew in the dirt a winding line that Bodine recognized as the Narrows above the mouth of the Bighorn.
“The Crows claim to have thousands of rounds of ammunition for their Sharps. Sitting Bull is here!” He jabbed at another spot on the twisting line. “A day before the blue bellies arrive, the Sioux will strike and the Crows will die.” He smiled, and with the smile, a wicked glint sprang into his eyes.
Bodine began to put it together. “The wagons of new uniforms that were taken some months ago and the Gatling gun stolen about the same time. Several months ago, cannons were stolen . . .” He trailed off into silence, broken only by the faint popping of fresh sticks on the small fire against the chill of night in the mountains.
Two Wolves looked confused. “I know nothing of any uniforms or Gatling guns, Bodine.”
“It’s an ambush, Brother.”
“Of course, it’s an ambush!” Two Wolves’ words held a note of exasperation. “Sitting Bull’s warriors will kill the Crow. I just explained that to you, He-Who-Falls-Down-A-Lot. Did you fall off your horse today and land on your head, Bodine?”
“Fifty or sixty men could do it. If they were very careful and knew the terrain, they could pull it off. The Crows would blame the Army and would then stop all assistance. The Sioux would blame the Army and the Crows and then declare war on the whites.”
Two Wolves looked at Bodine across the fire. Neither one of them would have normally sat this close to a fire, much less looked across it, thus ruining his night vision. But this was a mountain sacred not only to the Cheyenne but to many other tribes, some of whom no longer existed. Those were called The People Who Came Before. All were safe as long as they remained on the mountain. To the Cheyenne, the mountain was a perfect circle, just like their lodges. The circle kept the family unit intact.
It was when one left the mountain that worries about keeping your hair had best be in the forefront.
“Who would stand to gain by such a move, Bodine?”
“The people who want the land the Indian now occupies. Those who want the Indian rounded up and confined, or killed, preferably. This would be an easy way to get rid of a lot of homesteaders, Two Wolves. My dad told me about this Tom Thomas. He’s a very ambitious man and doesn’t care how he achieves his goals. A lot of this is prime land along here, Brother. And some still believe gold is there for the taking. You can bet that Tom Thomas is behind this plan.”
“Can you prove it?”
“No. And he’s too smart a man, cunning might be a better word, to allow himself to get caught. He’ll do the planning behind the scenes and allow others to carry them out.”
“Have you ever met with Sitting Bull or Crazy Horse, Bodine?”
“No.”
“The Unkpapa medicine man is very powerful. And he does not trust the white man. And that will probably include you, Bodine. No matter that you are the adopted son of my father. If we get inside the village, you’ll be safe. Leaving might present a problem,” he added, and then smiled. “For you.”
* * *
Before dawn, the men were riding. They rode north for a time, and then turned west, toward the Rosebud. The days were blistering hot and the nights cold. They saw no white men for the first two days. At midday of the third day, they saw smoke from a cabin and veered toward it.
As they drew nearer, they could make out three cabins, with about two hundred yards between them; a large barn obviously served all three families.
“Smart,” Bodine said. “Strength in numbers. Probably be a town here someday.”
“Don’t count on it.” Two Wolves cautioned. “A gathering has been called.”
“I guessed that much.”
“Bodine, it has been almost seven years since the Sioux signed the treaty guaranteeing them the land around their sacred Black Hills. Since that time, all the white man has done is lie and break promises, allowing other whites in to dig up the earth for gold.”
Bodine offered no reply. Why should he? Every word Two Wolves said was true. Bodine glanced at Two Wolves. Except for his shoulder-length hair, he could pass for a white man. He hoped one of those settlers whose homes they were fast approaching didn’t panic and shoot Two Wolves out of the saddle.
Four men suddenly appeared out of the homes, each with a rifle. “State your business!” came the shout.
“Women in the buildings, by the windows,” Two Wolves said. “They’re armed.”
“I see them. I’m Bodine!” he raised his voice. “Army scout. This is Sam Webster with me.”
“You! . . .” Two Wolves choked back a profanity.
“You want to be a dead Two Wolves or a live Sam?” Bodine asked.
“A point to be pondered, to be sure.”
“Welcome then, Bodine. I’ve heared of you. A light and sit; the women’s got grub on.”
Over a noon meal of venison and beans and cornbread, Bodine tried to keep the talk light, but the men would have none of that.
“Damned Injuns ridin’ through the country again,” one of the farmers said. “Seen a whole passel of ’em day ’fore yesterday. Headin’ west. They didn’t bother us none, but that don’t make me trust ’em no more than I ever has. Which is none at all.”
“They have twin necklaces, momma,” one little girl said, pointing to the multi-colored stones around the necks of the men.
“We’re blood brothers, ma’am,” Bodine explained. “Sam is half Cheyenne.”
Eating stopped as the settlers looked at Two Wolves as if he had suddenly grown horns and a tail. Which, Bodine reflected, he certainly would if he could, just to scare the pants off the settlers, and then laugh about it.
“And I am an adopted member of the Cheyenne tribe,” Bodine finished it.
“Don’t see how you stand it,” one man said. “Injuns smell different.”
“As you do to us, Two Wolves told him. “This is really excellent venison, ma’am,” he complimented the cook. “Almost as good as dog.”
The woman dropped her spoon into her plate as her mouth fell open.
Bodine stood up and reached for his hat. “We must be going, folks. Thanks for the meal.”
Not a word was spoken as the men swung up into leather and rode away. When they were a safe distance from the house, Two Wolves burst out laughing.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Brother,” Bodine said, trying to keep a straight face. “I know damn well you’ve never eaten a dog in your life.”
“Of course not. My mother did change that much about my father’s tribe. But did you see the expression on that woman’s face!” With a wild whoop, Two Wolves jumped his horse ahead of Bodine’s and the race was on. For now, just two young men having fun, with neither of them knowing that the race was leading th
em toward destiny and the turning point of the Indian wars.
They left their horses and carefully climbed up a ridge overlooking the Crow encampment. “Jesus!” Bodine breathed.
Two Wolves grunted. “Even more lodges than I expected,” he admitted. “I would say five hundred in all.”
“Does Sitting Bull trust you?”
“Yes.”
“Ride. I’ll try to convince them to meet with the Sioux. I’ll see you in Lost Valley in two days.”
They made their way back to their horses, a good mile from the Crow camp.
Two Wolves broke the silence. “Big Face is the chief of this gathering of cowardly coyotes. He is a snake who will strike when your back is turned. Don’t trust him.”
“Two Wolves,” Bodine said, just a note of irritation in his voice. “Do you even know why you hate the Crow?”
“Of course,” Two Wolves said with a smile, then he turned his horse and rode off toward the Sioux camp, many miles to the north and west.
“You’re just like a damned Injun!” Bodine shouted to his back, grinning as he said it.
Two Wolves laughed and clenched one fist, extending the middle finger in Bodine’s direction.
“Now where in the hell did you learn that?”
“At the university. From that girl who looked like a bear’s behind!”
Chapter 5
Bodine rode slowly toward the huge Indian encampment. He really was not expecting any trouble from the Crows; they all knew he worked for the Army and most Crows were friendly toward the whites. Nearly all the Army scouts were of the Crow tribe.
Bodine knew that there was almost never any trouble getting into an Indian’s camp. While you were there, the Indians would feed you and provide you a place to sleep. Trying to leave alive was the problem.
He rode slowly toward the center of the camp, trying to find the largest and most highly decorated tipi. That one would belong to Big Face.
He saw several Crow that he knew and spoke to them in their language. They politely returned the greeting as they stood and watched. Bodine reined up in front of what appeared to be a sub-chief’s lodge and dismounted. The flap was pushed open and a huge Indian stepped out.
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