The young scout shook his head emphatically. “Even if he is splitting up the village to throw you off, in the end Tall Bull’s still in the same boat we are.”
Carr’s brow bunched in confusion. “Which is?”
“His people gotta have water.”
“And that means something to us?”
With a nod Cody answered, “They’ll have to regroup by the time they reach the Platte.”
“The South Platte?” Carr inquired, gazing into the glimmering, sunburned distance. “That means we’ve penetrated Colorado Territory.”
“That’s right, General,” Shad spoke up. “It’s time you pushed this outfit, dragged the last these men and animals can give.”
“Bound where, Mr. Sweete?”
But Cody piped up, “For the platte, General.”
“You get your outfit there first,” Shad emphasized. “Have your men between the river and that village when it re-forms and comes up for water.”
“And if we don’t get there before Tall Bull does?” Carr asked.
Sweete shook his head. “Those Dog Soldiers will get their families across the Platte and you’ll be eating their dust from here all the way to the Laramie Plains.”
“We miss ’em at the river, General,” Cody pleaded his case. “We’ll never catch ’em.”
“I take exception with these two, General Carr,” Frank North broke in. “What’s to guarantee that village is moving toward the Platte? No, General—I say if you don’t follow all three of those trails, you’ll lose everything this campaign was sent out here to do.”
Carr contemplated his dilemma, looking from Sweete to Cody, then to North, and finally peered over his men and animals behind him, that long, dark ribbon stretched out across the fawn-colored terrain, sweltering beneath the same sun that he had hoped would bring him the destruction of Tall Bull’s Dog Soldiers.
“All right—Cody’s and Sweete’s advice to the contrary, I’ve decided to divide the command into three wings here. Captain, you and your brother will take Captain Cushing along with most of your Pawnee to scout the middle trail heading due north. Major Royall?”
William B. Royall saluted smartly. “General?”
“Major—you will command half our unit. Companies E, G, and H. Take Cody along with some of North’s Pawnee to scout the right-hand trail leading off to the northeast. There, onto that open land yonder.”
Royall nodded, clearly showing his happiness at being freed for the chase with half the regiment. “I assume, General, that you’re going to lead the third wing yourself?”
“I am. Direct command of companies A, C, and D. Mr. Sweete, you’ll ride with me. Sergeant Wallace will follow with four of the companies. In addition, six of the Pawnee are to be assigned to Mr. Sweete here. If for nothing else, the trackers can now serve to communicate between our separate wings. I’ll hold M Company in reserve, to remain some distance to the rear with the supply train.”
By the time the sun rose blood-red on that day, portending even greater heat than in days already suffered, Major Eugene Carr had completed his division of nearly three hundred officers and soldiers, including civilian and Pawnee scouts.
Less than an hour later, after traveling at as fast a clip as the weary mounts could stand, Carr had to admit that the trail sign was irrefutable.
“I can see now that the Cheyenne are moving toward the river,” Carr said quietly to the old plainsman beside him. “Just as you and Cody said they were.”
“You can still flank ’em if you push now, General,” Shad replied.
Carr nodded. Then stood for a few moments in the stirrups, squinting into the distance. “If my command can flank them from the northeast—getting the entire outfit between them and the river—then we will have them bottled up.”
“Then it won’t make no matter if you find Tall Bull in camp, or on the move already this morning.”
“Which would you prefer, Mr. Sweete?”
“On the move, General.”
“Why?”
“You surprise those Dog Soldiers in camp—the men gonna fight like hornets while the women and old ones skedaddle in retreat. Your men will get no quarter from that bunch if you catch ’em hunkered down in camp.”
“But if we surprise them on the march?”
“The whole bunch will be at a gallop from the first shot—covered by the warriors just long enough to make an escape, scattering as they go.”
“If choices are mine to make, Mr. Sweete—I choose to make a fight of it: like Custer had for himself on the Washita. For these men who have obeyed my orders and endured such hardship in the last few days—I want my chance to make a fight of it for the glory of the Fifth.” Carr’s eyes narrowed on the gray-headed scout. “By damn—we
At the edge of the earth, the sun had gone from blood-red to orange, then bubbled to a pale yellow before it now hung ash-white against the immense pale-blue dome overhead. Already the air in Shad’s face carried all the heat of a blacksmith’s bellows.
“If you figure your boys are ready and got some fight left in ’em, General,” Shad said, swiping his big black bandanna across his dripping face, “then let’s go seize this day!”
21
