Summer of the Sioux

by Tim Champlin

  "I'll bet you did!" Curt replied. "I have a feeling you usually get your own way."

  After the wagon train pulled out with the wounded, escorted by most of the mule-mounted infantry, the camp seemed to get very quiet. And time suddenly hung heavy on my hands. Days and weeks of marching, fighting, trying to snatch some food and sleep in between, had conditioned all of us to almost constant activity. The sudden slump into the routine idleness of camp life seemed strange. But, before I had a chance to get bored, I was summoned to General Buck's headquarters tent. This was an unusual command. I had never attended a meeting or conference of any sort with the general without going along with Wilder. And, just now, Wilder was nowhere in sight.

  The orderly who had conveyed the command led the way and lifted the flap of the white wall tent as I stepped inside. General Buck sat behind a small, folding camp table, his forearms resting on it. He was hatless and dressed in his usual dun-colored canvas field outfit. His hair was damp and tousled, as if it had been hurriedly dried after a swim in Goose Creek. His face was set and stern. On each side of the table, standing about eight feet apart and not looking at each other, stood Captain Wilder and Major Zimmer. I sensed the tension in the air, as my eyes took in the scene in a couple of seconds.

  "Come in, Mr. Tierney," General Buck said, addressing me with a cold formality I had not heard in weeks.

  I stepped closer to the table and stood, arms at sides, waiting.

  "Major Zimmer, here, has preferred a serious charge against Captain Wilder for allegedly deserting his post under fire. As a preliminary matter, I need to get a few of the facts straight before this goes any further. That's why you're here. Major Zimmer says that Captain Wilder left his Company B while they were engaged in a running fight with the Sioux. Captain Wilder claims he saw you on foot being attacked and rode back to help you. Is that right?"

  "That's right, sir. He did come back for me. My horse fell and an Indian on horseback just about got me. Luckily, I managed to kill the Indian before the captain reached me, but I was injured and he carried me riding double up to the ridge d left me with some of the miners who were fighting there."

  "This man is his messmate. He would naturally support that story."

  "You can check it with the miners," I retorted.

  "Captain, did you leave your company leaderless during this time?" General Buck asked.

  "No, sir. I delegated command to Lieutenant Shanahan."

  "How was this done—by verbal command?"

  "Yes, sir. I yelled at him to take over, that I would be right back."

  "Did he hear and understand you in all the confusion?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Well, we can check that with him later. Major, whether you or I agree with his action, we both know that a company commander has the discretion to use his own judgment in battlefield situations—within the framework of general orders, of course. So far, his story checks out, and I see no need for any charges to be filed."

  "What he says may be true, sir, as far as it goes. But I didn't see him again for over an hour. Not until the battalion was withdrawn at your orders to circle around through the canyon toward the village."

  "That's a damn lie!" Wilder was facing his accuser now, eyes blazing in his flushed face.

  "That's enough!" The general's voice cracked like a whip.

  I was feeling extremely uncomfortable, standing between the two of them.

  "How long would you estimate it took you to rejoin your command, Captain?"

  "No more than fifteen minutes, sir. I don't know exactly, since I didn't really have a chance to look at my watch and didn't figure anyone would be asking me to justify it later." This last he delivered with sarcasm and a glance at Zimmer.

  "Could it be that, in all the fighting and confusion, you just failed to notice his return until an hour or so later, Major?"

  "Not a chance. In fact, I was looking for him to give him an order. The command was getting too strung out and scattered, and I was afraid some of the inexperienced men would be drawn out so far they would be surrounded and cut off. I wanted his company to dismount and form a skirmish line to hold the hilltop. But I couldn't find him and finally had to give the order to Shanahan. In fact, there were several casualties suffered by his company before I saw what was happening and ordered them back. If it hadn't been for his cowardice in the face of the enemy, those casualties might have been prevented."

  "Cowardice has yet to be proven, Major," General Buck's voice was now icy. "And Lieutenant Shanahan is an able enough officer. He could command a company of men with no trouble."

  He turned to Wilder. "It seems we have a considerable difference of opinion here. In any case, I don't think it would have made any difference in the outcome of this engagement. Major, if you insist on pursuing this, you have a right to file formal charges when we return to Fetterman. Then a Court of Inquiry will have to sit, and I'm sure enough witnesses can be found to establish the fact of whether Captain Wilder returned promptly to his command or not. But I'm somewhat at a loss as to what your motive is in all this, Major."

  Zimmer's back straightened perceptibly as he came almost to attention. "I just hate to see inept, lax, and cowardly officers in the U.S. Army, sir. It gives all of us a bad name. And you know what kind of bad press we've been getting lately."

  "Yes . . ." The general nodded thoughtfully. "But, just for that reason, and for morale, I caution all three of you to keep this to yourselves until we get back to the post. And I definitely don’t want any of this in appear in your paper, Tierney."

  "Yessir."

  "Will he be confined to quarters or put under close arrest, sir?" Zimmer inquired.

  "Absolutely not!" General Buck's blue eyes snapped and his braided beard quivered as his jaw worked. "Captain Wilder has not been found guilty. I remind you, Major, we are in the field under battle conditions, and we need every able officer. There is no place one man can go out here in any case. And I have just explained my reasons for not noising this incident around. That's all. You're dismissed."

  "The bastard! What the hell is he up to, Curt?" I burst out as we walked back to our tent.

  For a man who had just been outrageously accused, Curt was remarkably cool. "Don't rightly know. He outranks me so I don't believe I'm any threat to his possible promotion."

  "Unless you're in a position to do something to make him look bad. Don't get in the way of ambition; it's deadlier than a .44."

  "Yes. Could be he's trying this ploy to impress the general that he runs a tight outfit. Anything to keep himself the center of attention. It's a cinch we don't like each other, but a personality clash is no reason for an accusation like this that he'll never be able to make stick at a court-martial. Maybe it's just another form of harassment to eventually get me out of his battalion. I don't know. Then again, he may never file formal charges when we get back to Fetterman—just did this to give me something to think about. Even if a man is never tried or convicted, the suspicion of wrongdoing lingers in people's minds. It can be very damaging to an officer's career."

  "The general didn't seem too impressed."

  "You never know about him. He might think it over and decide in his own mind Zimmer is right. The general belatedly covered his own tracks last March by throwing the whole blame on Colonel Reynolds for that fouled-up operation. So the general's not above pulling something like this himself."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Surprisingly, no word of that incident leaked out, and for the next two weeks, the camp fell into a quiet routine, with everyone trying to find a way to kill time. Horse racing was popular. Some mended equipment or cleaned weapons, others sewed up damaged clothing, gave each other haircuts, wrote letters home, and read. Reading material was at a premium. Everything was devoured, from labels on cans to newspapers several months old that were found stuffed as packing in some of the supply boxes. One of the young lieutenants had a small library of dime novels that were in constant demand. After each volume had gon
e through a dozen hands, it began to look pretty limp and dog-eared.

  The Crows and Shoshones, seeing what was happening, decided that it would be "good medicine" for them to go home. So they departed with many promises to return before the campaign was over. They also left their wounded to be cared for by our doctors. The weather continued clear and very hot with the temperatures from ten A.M. until four P.M. hitting the hundred-degree mark. But the nights remained very cool. Luckily, we were in an area where we had plenty of shade and water. Every couple of days General Buck ordered the camp moved two or three miles up Goose Creek, closer to the base of the Big Horns, to keep constant pasturage for our large herds.

  One of the prime recreations was swimming in Goose Creek during the heat of the day. The stream made many lazy bends with some of its banks overhung by large cottonwoods. The water, coming out of the mountains, was always bracingly cold and refreshing. Running clear over a pebbly bottom, it was not only good for swimming and washing clothes but also supplied all our drinking and cooking needs. Best of all, though, the deep, shady pools were alive with trout. For one man to take thirty or forty trout a day out of there was nothing unusual. Fresh trout became a daily item on nearly everybody's menu.

  General Buck took advantage of the lull to indulge in his favorite sport—hunting. He often left camp with one or two aides, or by himself, and disappeared into the mountains a few miles west of the camp. Most of the time he returned the same day. Other times he was gone overnight. Seldom did he return empty-handed. The fresh meat he brought back on his pack mule in the form of deer and game birds also helped to diversify the larder. Some of the officers were irritated that he did not allow them to do the same without special permission, which he himself seldom granted.

  But Wilder was not a hunter and had no interest in this activity. A lot of his free time was spent in the company of Cathy Jenkins. I stayed discreetly out of the way but watched the two of them walking along the shady creek bank, deep in conversation. Wilder seldom spoke about her, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that he had been bitten hard.

  One evening, when Shanahan was not with us, Wilder finally broached the subject to me. "Matt," he began hesitantly, obviously searching for the right words, "you know how I feel about Cathy Jenkins. She's friendly enough toward me, but there doesn't seem to be anything more to it than that—just friends." -

  "Hell, Curt, give her a chance to know you." I grinned. "You only met her two or three weeks ago. And how much of that time have you been able to spend with her? Besides, she's come through a lot, losing her father and all. She needs time."

  "I see what you mean. But I wanted to get my bid in early. I know there are several other officers seeing her, and I’m just awkward as hell around her. Feel as gawky as a schoolboy. Maybe I've been soldiering too much for the last few years and not socializing enough."

  "Any girl friends in Philadelphia?"

  "Oh, there are a few I've gone to parties with when I was home last spring, but of course, most of the gals near my age have long since gotten married or have given up and resigned themselves to spinsterhood—most of them with good reason."

  "Maybe Cathy just looks better to you because you're seeing her in this setting where there are few women. Here she looks glamorous, but she might be insignificant in a city where there are plenty of women."

  "I don't know, Matt. I just can't picture her in a drawing room, or even as a scullery maid. She's got an independent turn of mind that her father has apparently fostered all her life. I can tell from the way she talks that she's well educated. She tells me she was tutored some and also spent several winters attending school in Louisville, where she lived with an aunt."

  "Is her mother dead?"

  "Yes. Died when she was about five."

  "Have you ever been married, Curt?"

  “No.”

  "Ever thought about it?"

  "Not seriously. But the thought of growing old alone doesn't really appeal to me. And I would like to have some kids of my own someday. And someday may be about here. I'm only thirty-three years old, but if I'm ever going to do it, it's time to start looking around. Most of my time the last few years has been spent in the West where the only women I see are either married or prostitutes, or are so damned ugly they’d hurt your eyes. Some are so coarse that you'd have a hard time figuring out that they're women under the dirt and buckskin. Cathy has managed to live out here and still remain a lady—capable and proficient, but still a lady."

  "Well, like I said, it might not be the wisest thing to go after her with the idea of marriage in the back of your head. She probably seems more desirable because, for the moment anyway, she's unattainable due to her disinterest and your competition. And also since she's the only attractive female you've seen in weeks. Besides, she may not want to get married. As you said, she seems pretty independent and has a mind of her own."

  My weighty words of wisdom seemed to help. At any rate, Curt cheered up some.

  As the days passed, the wound on my hand scabbed over and began healing very well. My leg was also on the mend. The swelling in my thigh gradually went down. As the surgeon had predicted, the bruise turned an ugly black and yellow. Day by day it was limbering up and getting stronger.

  The Fourth of July came and went, with no word from anywhere. Some of the men talked about what a celebration was probably going on back East for the Centennial. But our camp had become an oasis, completely isolated from the rest of the world. I often had to look at a calendar to be sure what day it was, since the days ran into each other with a monotonous sameness. There was no official observance of Sunday. I had never believed there could be such a thing as too much leisure for my taste, but I began to revise that assumption.

  On July 6, General Buck issued a call for all his officers. I went along, eager for some news and a break in the routine. We couldn't all fit into his headquarters tent, so we congregated on a trampled grass and bare dirt area in front of the tent It was ten o'clock in the morning and the daily heat was beginning to bear down on the camp. But we stood in relative coolness under the shade of several large trees. The dappled sunshine on the green and brown earth shifted its pattern continuously with the tossing of the treetops in the wind. General Buck stepped up onto a box in order to be seen and heard by everyone.

  "Gentlemen, as you all know, I’ve sent for reinforcements. Frankly, I had expected to have them with us by now. I had hoped to take the field and be back in action. No couriers have gotten through to us, so there's no way of knowing what's happening with our counterparts on the Yellowstone. On June 25 Lieutenant Shanahan was hunting in the mountains and says he spotted what looked like a big cloud of dust or smoke rising many miles to the north. Of course, it might have been one of these lignite deposits we've seen smouldering before, or a prairie fire. But just in case it's not, I'd like to get an idea where the Indians are or if they have a village anywhere in this vicinity. So, while we're waiting for the troops I’ve asked for, I'm sending out a party to reconnoiter an area north and west of here. Major Zimmer will select an officer to head this detail. Big Bat Pourier and Frank Grouard will go along to scout. They'll take provisions for several days. I want them to stay out of sight as much as possible. They're to find out what they can and report back to me. They're to leave as soon as they can get ready.

  "Also, I'm appointing Major Zimmer as acting commander of the 3rd Cavalry, due to the loss of Colonel Wellsey. If there are no questions, you're dismissed."

  He gave no opportunity for questions, but no one seemed to mind as the officer corps dispersed. Wilder's face showed no emotion in regard to anything we’d just heard.

  "I guess you were expecting Zimmer to be made acting commander."

  He nodded, grimly. "Won't make much difference, since he's been my immediate superior, anyway, except that there’s no one to keep him in check now, except the general.”

  “Captain Wilder!” We stopped as George Zimmer approached.

  "Sir?"


  "I want you to head up this scouting detail. Select about twenty-five men to go with you. Report to me when you're ready to leave."

  "Yessir."

  Zimmer returned Wilder's salute and walked away. "What d'ya reckon his motive was for that?" I asked.

  "You got me."

  "At least he's letting you pick your own men."

  "Yeh. He might be testing me or trying to get me out of camp for a while."

  "In spite of not liking you, he may just respect your ability."

  "Possible, but I doubt it. There are plenty of good officers in this command. And it's normal for a lieutenant to handle an assignment like this." He shrugged. "But then, maybe I'm reading too much into it."

  "Damn! I'd sure like to go with you, Curt. My leg's healed well enough so it doesn't bother me. And I'm just going to seed around here."

  "I'd be glad to have you. But General Buck will have to give the go-ahead since you're a civilian. I can pick the soldiers myself. If you're dead set on going, I'll put in a good word for you. But it could be dangerous."

  "I could use a little excitement."

  "Okay. Start getting your gear together and I'll have a word with the general."

  After Wilder returned and started selecting about two-dozen men from the various companies to go on the scout, I went and talked to the general myself. He reluctantly gave his permission for me to go but warned me about the possibility of danger, and let it be known that the army would not be responsible for anything that happened to me.

  I thanked him and left before he could change his mind. If I were killed, it would make little difference to anyone else. My parents were deceased; my brother and sister were both grown and married. If I were somehow hurt or wounded, my paper would stand good for any medical expenses. General Buck even authorized me to draw a hundred rounds of army ammunition, but it was the wrong caliber for my new Winchester. Besides, I assured him, I had brought along plenty of my own.