Glory's Guidons (The Long-Knives US Cavalry Western Book 3) Read online

  “Ah!” Strong Bear snorted. “Ah! Ah! Ah! You too damn old, Dah-lah-nay. No more sack hang between legs. Fall off. Maybe you got more old than me.”

  Delaney laughed and nudged Pepperdine. “I’ll bet I couldn’t outrun or outride that old coot at that.” Then, making a fierce face, he glared at the elderly Indian. “Get away from me and calm your people.”

  “Ah! Ah! Ah!” The old Indian, sounding his displeasure, disappeared through the soldiers and into the darkness.

  “Sergeant Wheatfall!” Delaney called.

  A tall black soldier, wearing the three chevrons and lozenge of a first sergeant, dismounted and saluted. “Yes, suh?”

  “Sergeant Wheatfall, this is our new lieutenant Mr. Pepperdine,” Delaney said by way of introduction.

  “Yes, suh.”

  “Mr. Pepperdine, this is our first sergeant, Sergeant Wheatfall. I chose him initially for this job because he is the biggest in the company. I maintain him now because he is a very good top kick.” Wheatfall stood at attention, unmoving, unemotional as Delaney gave him his orders. “We will maintain a guard here for the night, both stationary and roving. Keep two men awake on each post at all times. This includes the horse picket as well. Mr. Pepperdine and I will be in this vicinity in case we are needed. We will move out in pursuit of the hostiles at the arrival of Jim Rivers, probably at first light in the morning.”

  “Yes, suh.”

  Wheatfall turned to the company and, in loud commands, had them dismounted and broken down into groups within a few short moments. Several more orders issued to the corporals caused a scurry of activity as the newly appointed guard posts were manned. The remainder of the company moved off to establish a camp for the night.

  Pepperdine followed Delaney’s example and began kicking together some of the burning remnants of the trading post to get a small campfire going. Within moments, Sergeant Wheatfall sent over a trooper with a small camp kettle to boil up water for coffee.

  Pepperdine watched, impatient, and agitated, as the coffee was being made. “We aren’t settling down here, are we, sir?”

  “It’s just like I told Strong Bear, Mr. Pepperdine. It’s too dark to go trailing after Running Horse, and we’re going to wait for Jim Rivers.”

  “Who is Jim Rivers?”

  “A contract civilian scout,” Delaney answered. “We used to keep him pretty busy, but since Strong Bear’s band settled down, he spends most of his time off to himself. Just he and his wife live alone out there on the prairie.”

  “My God! What woman would want to live in this forlorn grassland?”

  “She is a white who had been stolen by the Indians as a child. Taken by Strong Bear, as a matter of fact. He adopted her and raised her as a daughter.”

  “Most kind of him,” Pepperdine remarked.

  “Kind, hell! You’ve got a lot to learn about Indians, Mr. Pepperdine. They are not particularly disposed toward kindliness when it comes to their women. But he treated her as well as he would have a natural daughter. She grew up an Indian, but her first contact with whites tore something apart in her. She instinctively knew they were her people and that she really belonged with them, but somehow she sensed a difference that couldn’t be bridged. In the end she went with Jim Rivers, and lives between the two worlds—white and Indian—just as her husband does.”

  “People back east don’t realize the real dramas of life that go on out here,” Pepperdine commented. “They think it’s just plain and simple shoot ’em ups from dawn to dusk.”

  They were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Sergeant Wheatfall in the firelight. The tall NCO saluted. “Guard is posted and correct, suh.”

  “Fine, Sergeant. Help yourself to some coffee. We’ve a long night ahead of us.”

  “Yes, suh.”

  “I meant to compliment you on the speed in which you turned out the company,” Delaney said.

  “Yes, suh. That extry work and drill pays off. That and a few kicks in the ass now and again.”

  “Just remember to keep the amount of kicking down as much as possible,” the company commander remarked.

  “I understand, suh. It ain’t for meanness. It’s just that some of them boys ain’t used to getting nothing done without kicking. They coming around though.”

  Delaney looked over at Pepperdine. “This is going to be one of your biggest problems. Just getting some of our soldiers to act on their own volition can be frustrating and time consuming”

  Wheatfall slurped down his coffee and set the tin cup by the fire. “I’m gonna check the guard, suh. Just a quick surprise to let ’em know I’ll be checking on ’em through the night.”

  “Carry on, Sergeant.”

  Pepperdine watched Wheatfall until he faded into the dark. “He seems to be a fine non-commissioned officer.”

  “Surprised?”

  “Frankly, sir, I am. After all that talk at supper, I had figured that even the sergeants would have to be white.”

  Delaney helped himself to another cup of coffee. “I felt the same when I found I was commissioned in a colored regiment, Mr. Pepperdine. If I’ve learned one thing from this experience, it is to judge and meet people in this world one at a time and not to lump them all into convenient groupings.”

  “Perhaps you’re right, sir,” Pepperdine said.

  “We’re heading for a very long patrol,” Delaney said. “We’ll be clear down into Texas before this thing is over, and I’ll grant you that there’ll be quite a few interesting and enlightening lessons awaiting you in regards to the Negro race.”

  “I’m sure there will be.”

  “And I’m afraid it won’t be all positive and good,” Delaney said. “You’d better help yourself to some coffee, Mr. Pepperdine. There is not a more confused or bewildered animal in this world than a sleepy second lieutenant.”

  ~*~

  The scout Jim Rivers made his appearance just as dawn was spreading its yellowish-red rays across the prairie. The trooper who had gone to fetch him wheeled away and rode over to join his messmates for breakfast. Rivers reined up in front of Delaney and grinned widely. “Howdy, Ambrose. Hear tell that Running Horse is acting up.”

  “That’s right, Jim. And liable to get meaner before the summer is finished.”

  “Well,” Rivers mused, swinging out of the saddle. “I think we’d best go fetch him back.”

  “That’s the general idea.” Delaney said.

  Rivers noticed Pepperdine and nodded politely. “Howdy. Jim Rivers.” He offered his hand.

  “How do you do,” Pepperdine said. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be formal with a civilian scout or not, so he thought he would follow the plainsman’s example. “Brad Pepperdine.”

  “Why don’t you fill me in while I have a cup of coffee?” Rivers suggested to Delaney. The scout listened as the cavalry officer gave him a quick briefing. He drank the coffee in deep gulps, his leathery face thoughtful as he listened.

  Rivers was of indeterminable age. His years could have ranged from the mid-thirties up to sixty, and even he wasn’t sure of his exact birth date. While his face showed the ravages of exposure to wind and sun, his body was lithe and supple. He walked with an easy grace, well coordinated and smooth. He sat a horse well, seemingly becoming one with the animal no matter whether it be a slow walk or a hard gallop. His appearance was one that would set an easterner into a frenzy of delight. He wore army blue trousers, buckskin shirt and Apache moccasins picked up while serving in Arizona. His accoutrements, aside from rifle, pistol and bedroll, were an army haversack and canteen. Jim Rivers needed nothing more than that and the cup and skillet provided him by the government. These belongings and his horses made him a wealthy man in the Indians’ estimation, and in his own as well. He would never be able to figure out why a man would need or want more than that.

  Rivers nodded his head as Delaney finished detailing the previous night’s activities. “Sounds to me like some folks are going to die before this thing is over.”
r />   “My God!” Pepperdine exclaimed. “Then why are we sitting here?”

  “Relax, Brad,” Rivers said. “Rushing off isn’t going to make that much difference one way or the other. If you’d trailed off after Running Horse last night, the blow flies would be feeding off you today just as soon as the sun got hot enough to bloat you up some.”

  Pepperdine calmed down. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to finding myself in a situation where human lives are at stake. I just don’t fully comprehend the danger we would have faced last night.”

  “They would have been ready for us,” Delaney explained. “You can be sure they were laying constant ambushes along their trail just in case we did go after them.”

  The younger officer nodded. “I have a lot to learn, sir.”

  “That, Mr. Pepperdine, is one hell of an understatement.”

  Rivers laughed and winked at the lieutenant. “Just pay attention to what that old bastard tells you, Brad. All his advice is good, believe me. The only thing you don’t have to pay attention to is his crankiness.”

  Delaney wasn’t amused. “Mr. Pepperdine, you’d better give heed to that especially.”

  “Yes, sir,” Pepperdine said.

  As they spoke, Sergeant Wheatfall began forming up the men in columns. Jim Rivers turned to tend his horse as orderlies appeared with the officers’ mounts saddled and ready for the patrol. Pepperdine mounted and rode down the line of cavalrymen following Delaney.

  The lieutenant surveyed the company for the first time in the wispy light of the prairie dawn. The slouch hats and combination of faded, patched field uniforms with various bits of convenient civilian attire hardly gave them the appearance of soldiers. All had sewn canvas into the crotches of their trousers to reinforce them for the many hours to be spent in the saddle. Bandanas of various colors and other personal bits of decoration to their uniforms made the little column blossom with individuality.

  Even Captain Delaney was bucking the regulations. He had changed his army blouse for a fringed buckskin shirt similar to what Jim Rivers wore. Then he crammed his campaign hat into the saddle bags and placed a jaunty civilian straw model rakishly on his head. The only properly uniformed rider in the whole group was Pepperdine.

  The trumpeter rode up and joined the officers as the guidon bearer galloped to take his place just behind them.

  Delaney looked at his second-in-command. “Well, Mr. Pepperdine, a-soldiering we shall go.”

  “Ready and willing, sir!”

  Delaney turned to the column. “Forward, yo-oh!”

  Chapter Five

  Company L had been out on the prairie after several hours of riding with Corporal Jones ahead on point. He waved back to Pepperdine, and the lieutenant rode toward him to see what he wanted. The two troopers, Griffen and Davis, who were acting as flankers, kept abreast of the young officer as they joined the corporal.

  “Nothing to see, suh,” Jones said. “They’re leading us on a merry chase again.”

  “It would appear so, Corporal,” Pepperdine agreed. This was the seventh time he had been detailed to check out a side trail leading off from the main trek taken by the renegades. And each time it proved false. All these incidents were ploys by Running Horse to slow down the pursuers. Pepperdine had never been so weary in his life, and it was still early afternoon. “Let’s rejoin the column.”

  The scouting party rode back across the rolling grasslands and linked up once again with Delaney and the rest of L Company. The captain took Pepperdine’s salute. “Report, Mister!”

  “Negative sightings, sir,” Pepperdine said. “Waste of time.”

  “Perhaps, Mr. Pepperdine, but we can’t ignore indications of Running Horse’s party splitting up. Don’t you think it would be embarrassing to suddenly find ourselves ambushed or attacked from the rear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Pepperdine agreed.

  “And you remember to be extremely cautious when following these side spoors,” Delaney further cautioned him. “They might decide to leave a small reception committee for you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

  “See that you do. Have your detail fall in with the company.”

  ~*~

  Two hours later Delaney’s command was continuing across the prairie. The sound of the horses’ hooves and the occasional clanking of equipment formed a mute chorus that was livened by sudden reprimands from the NCOs when some trooper began dozing in the saddle. All eyes were needed on the surrounding sea of prairie grass where an enemy could suddenly rise up like sharks from ocean waves. No point of the column was safe from potential attack or sniping.

  Jim Rivers, who had been scouting ahead, galloped back with another report of a small party splitting out from the renegade band.

  “Mr. Pepperdine!” Delaney shouted.

  Pepperdine rode forward. “Yes, sir?”

  “Another trail to check out,” Delaney said.

  The lieutenant signaled back to his detail. “Corporal Jones!”

  The NCO, followed by Griffen and Davis, pulled out of the column and rode after Pepperdine.

  They found the change in the trail two miles away. Jones appointed Davis as point man as he and Griffen took the flanks. The members of the small party pulled their carbines free from the weapons’ saddle boots as they eased forward, alert for a sudden ambush. Pepperdine drew his Colt .45 revolver from its holster.

  The lieutenant could feel the back of his neck beginning to react from the hot sun. He knew he would have a painful sunburn to contend with the next day. He was wearing a forage cap rather than the broad brimmed style headgear sported by the rest of the company. He would have given his first month’s pay for a similar one and two month’s salary for the airy, straw model that Delaney wore.

  Davis waved frantically and pointed to the ground. Pepperdine’s initial alarm faded when he noted the soldier didn’t take to cover. He rode up to the point man and was quickly joined by Corporal Jones and Griffen.

  “Looky there, suh,” Davis said. “They been here all right!”

  The corporal swung out of his saddle and picked up an arrow. “Is this what you seen, Davis?”

  “Yes, Corporal.”

  Jones shook his head in disgust. “Don’t worry about these ’til one’s sticking in you!”

  “It’s Injun sign, ain’t it?” Davis protested.

  “This whole trail here is Injun sign, fool!”

  “Don’t you be calling me no fool, Corporal!”

  “How about if I jerk you outta that saddle?” Jones said hotly.

  “That’s enough!” Pepperdine said. “We have a job to do here. Bickering won’t help us a bit.”

  “I ain’t bickering, Lieutenant,” Jones said. “I’m disciplining this man.”

  Pepperdine nodded. “I appreciate that, Corporal. But save it for later. Move out, Davis.”

  Davis gave his corporal one more sullen look before obeying. “Yes, suh.”

  Jones remounted and handed the arrow to Pepperdine. “You probably ain’t come across one of these before, suh. Would you like to keep it?”

  Pepperdine took the arrow. Indeed it was the first Indian artifact he had ever seen. “Are you sure you don’t want it, Corporal Jones?”

  “I got several, suh,” Jones replied. “If I bring any more stuff back my woman’s gonna have a fit.”

  “You’re married then?”

  “Yes, suh. We was hitched five years back. Got four young’uns too. Two boys and two girls.” As he spoke, Jones was fishing around in his saddle bags. He produced a blue bandana and handed it to Pepperdine. “By your leave, suh. Put this up under yer cap and let it hang down behind on your neck. The sun is fair cooking you alive.”

  Pepperdine took the bandana. “Thank you. I was beginning to feel my skin back there reacting to the elements.”

  “A bandana’s one of the handiest things you can have in the field, Lieutenant,” Jones said. “They make a nice mask against the dust, shade against the sun and somet
hing handy to wipe the sweat away.” His voice grew somber. “And sometimes they can be used to bandage you up.”

  “I certainly hope I won’t have to put it to that unhappy utilization,” Pepperdine said. He pushed the cloth under the back of his cap and could immediately feel a lessening of the sun’s rays on his skin. “This will do fine.”

  “They took you out to the field too soon, suh,” Jones said. “You didn’t have time to properly equip yourself from stuff you can buy at the sutler’s store.” He pulled on his horse’s reins. “I best get back to the flank.” He saluted, then rode off to his proper position.

  The sign they followed took them far out into the prairie on a looping route that finally led them back to the main column in the early evening.

  As Corporal Jones took Davis and Griffen back to their places in the company, Pepperdine reported to Delaney. “Another delaying tactic, sir. One of the men found this arrow.” He showed it to his commander.

  Delaney examined it carefully. “Freshly made,” he remarked. “Perhaps this foray of Running Horse’s has been in the works for quite some time. At least it seems they had been preparing themselves.”

  “What do you mean by that, sir?”

  “I’m just talking to myself at this point,” Delaney said, handing the arrow back. “As soon as Jim returns from his scout we’ll settle down for the night.”

  Pepperdine sighed. “I’m glad to hear that, sir.” He allowed his horse to ease into the column beside Delaney.

  The captain grinned. “Been pretty busy on this first day of active campaigning, hey?”

  “Yes, sir,” Pepperdine answered. “But I received a good deal of help from Corporal Jones. He’s experienced and seems to know this field side of soldiering pretty well.”

  “He does at that,” Delaney said. “He’s next in line for a sergeancy.”

  “I was surprised to learn he’s married,” Pepperdine said.

  Delaney pulled a cigar from a shirt pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “Most of our NCOs are,” he said lighting up. “In fact a larger percentage of our men are married than in a comparable white regiment. This outfit is not only their home, but it belongs to the wives and children as well.”