The Indian Ring (8 page)

“Custer had three, uh, tribes, bands, uh, I do not know the word.” she said.

Joshua smiled, saying, “You probably mean companies or battalions.”

“Yes, I think,” she went on. “One had a chief named Reno and the other had a chief named Benteen. They were down the Greasy Grass to the south of Long Hair on the big ridge that ran along the river. You know the black scout?”

Strongheart said, “Yes, I do. Isaiah Dorman. He was with Benteen or Reno as I recall, scouting.”

“Yes,” Lila replied. “He was dying and Sitting Bill stopped people from killing him. They were friends. Sitting Bull gave him a drink from his water bag and held him and talked to him until he died. Another
wasicun
scout, Lonesome Charley Reynolds, gave away everything he owned to friends before they left for the big camp. He knew Custer was going to get his men killed. When it started, two more of Sitting Bull's nephews were out getting stray horses,
Deeds and Brown Back, and they met up with another boy named Drags-the-Rope. Some Long Knives saw Deeds and one of them shot him in the chest. Brown Back and Drags-the-Rope hid in the bushes and made their way back to the big circle and started the alarm that the
wasicun
were coming. That is how it started.”

“Wow!” Joshua said.

She went on, “After Deeds was killed, Sitting Bull had scouts following the Pony Soldiers. He thinks Custer found this out and decided to attack the village. We knew he was going to attack it at night until he found out our warriors followed him.”

In actuality, one small band of Cheyenne was headed toward the encampment and although there were less than forty warriors in the band, they followed the column. Scouts who later found their tracks alerted Custer, and he did indeed decide to make the daylight attack. Benteen's battalion was in reinforcement and Reno's battalion were not given the opportunity to get into position. Both battalions ended up under attack themselves, cut off from Custer's column. She explained these attacks to Joshua.

Joshua went to his saddlebags and pulled out some bacon and some hardtack biscuits he already had. He put the pan on the fire and shaved off some slices of bacon. Lila made more coffee.

They sat down to eat, and she gave him more details of the battle.

“Up here on this ridge overlooking Medicine Tail Coulee and a little bit north of it, in the tall grass, was where Long Hair and his brother Tom died. Chief Rain-in-the-Face kept his word, too. He once told Tom Custer someday he would cut his heart from his chest and eat it. He did that while many warriors watched and yelled, ‘Hokahey!' The women and
villagers would not scalp or cut up Custer's body because he killed himself. But one woman, Monasetah, found him, and he had made her a baby with him a long time ago. She hated him, but he made her make a baby with him, his baby. She took her sewing awl and poked it into each ear.

“She yelled, ‘Can you hear me now? I hate you!'

“They would not strip his clothing because he died a coward.”

To the Lakota it was a disgrace to kill yourself in battle to save yourself from torture.

She went on, “Long Hair's brother Tom was very brave fighting and many warriors wanted to count coup on him.”

Tom Custer had indeed been awarded the Medal of Honor, twice, in the Civil War.

His citations read:

The President of the United States in the name of the Congress takes pleasure in presenting the Medal of Honor to CUSTER, THOMAS WARD, Rank and organization: Second Lieutenant, Company B, 6th Michigan Cavalry. Place and date: At Namozine Church, Va., 10 May 1863. Entered service at: Monroe, Mich. Birth: New Rumley, Ohio, 25 June 1845. Date of issue: 3 May 1865.

Citation: Capture of flag on 10 May 1863.

His second citation read:

The President of the United States in the name of the Congress takes pleasure in presenting the Medal of Honor, Second Award, to CUSTER, THOMAS WARD, Rank and organization: Second Lieutenant, Company B, 6th Michigan Cavalry. Place and date: At Sailor
Creek, Va., 6 April 1865. Entered service at: Monroe, Mich. Birth: New Rumley, Ohio, 25 June 1845. Date of issue: 26 May 1865.

Citation: 2d Lt. Custer leaped his horse over the enemy's works and captured 2 stands of colors, having his horse shot from under him and receiving a severe wound.

Rain-in-the-Face had been Tom Custer's prisoner when he made his famous boast that he would someday kill Captain Custer and eat his heart. It did indeed happen according to many warriors there, but instead of being a defiling act, it was actually a great show of respect for Custer's brother Tom who fought very bravely and courageously. He commanded the company that Lieutenant Colonel George Custer was with when he died, and eating the man's heart made Rain-in-the-Face feel he was not only exacting revenge but acquiring some of this warrior's powerful medicine or power.

Lila continued, “The man who owned the horse who lived was also a very brave fighter, and he was the very last man with Long Hair who was killed. He rose up on one knee and kept shooting while many warriors cut him down.”

Strongheart would later learn that it was Captain Myles Keogh, the owner of Comanche, the battle's lone survivor.

Lila explained in more detail about the battle, told him that his friend Chris Colt had gone off looking for the woman he loved, who had been kidnapped by a brute of a man named Will Sawyer. Joshua also did not know at the time but would later learn that the woman was Belle's first cousin. She also owned a restaurant but hers was in Bismarck. She also told Joshua that Benteen and Reno suffered losses, and Reno's command was even cut off from water and ended up drinking their own urine before the siege ended, but Sitting Bull and
the other chiefs were more interested in moving the big encampment and leaving that country.

Strongheart and Lila finally went to sleep lying near each other close to the fire. He did not know, but she stared at him sleeping for over an hour, dreaming about what might have been. He dreamed about Belle, but in his dream she rode off smiling on a large white horse, and he was smiling, too. He had finally, through the help of his cousin, learned how to let go of Belle.

GOING EAST

They both awakened early and gave each other farewell hugs. He was headed back to Denver to catch a train east, and she was heading north.

Joshua started to leave but stopped and said, “Come with me, cousin.”

She was nervous as he led her into Denver and headed straight for the trainyards. Within an hour, Lila and her pony and pack pony had their own freight car with hay and bedding straw. Strongheart explained the entire situation to the brakeman and told her to only leave the train when that man told her to. Riding the train would save her many days' travel north, and it turned out to be one of her most memorable experiences ever. She would leave the train far to the north in Montana territory and would be amazed at how much time was saved by the rail travel.

He, too, was full of anxiety, as he sat down in his passenger car, Eagle safely loaded in a stock car. The Pinkerton had been to Chicago but never all the way back east. What new adventures lay ahead of him? he wondered.

The drummer sat down next to Joshua Strongheart and the detective knew immediately he was going to be in a long conversation.

The man wore a derby hat and a brown pin-striped suit. He stuck out his hand with a friendly smile.

“Howdy, chief,” he said cheerfully. “The name is Lawrence Vosen.”

Strongheart said, “I am not a chief. Why would you call me that?”

The man stammered and said, “Well, uh, ahem, uh, I don't know. I was just trying to be friendly and did not know what to say, sir.”

Strongheart smiled and stuck out his hand saying, “My name is Joshua Strongheart. I know you were trying to be friendly, but many white men call red men
chief
like that and do not realize it is an insult.”

Selders said, “You certainly speak English very well for a red man. I meant nothing by it.”

Joshua said, “I know. I am half white and my mother made sure I got an education. I did not mean to be impolite, sir. Are you in sales of some sort?”

“Yes, yes, I am,” Vosen answered enthusiastically. “I represent several furniture concerns back in North Carolina. I travel out west to make deals with large stores that can ship our furniture west on the rails to places like Denver and other large cities. Then, from there, they are transported by freight wagons all over the frontier.”

Joshua said, “That is interesting. How long have you been doing that?”

“Ever since the Civil War ended. I make my home in North Carolina and have a wife and three fine children there. How about you? Where do you work? You have a family?”

Strongheart lied, “I work as a consultant on Indian affairs
and am traveling back to Washington from Denver for a meeting. No, I have never been married.”

“Are you all right, Mr. Strongheart?” the drummer asked, as he saw the Pinkerton agent suddenly staring out the window.

Joshua gave a start and said, “Oh yeah, sorry. I just saw those thousands of buffalo skeletons out there all along both sides of the railway. It saddens me greatly.”

Little did Joshua know that his enemy had started the shooting of this massive herd days before, and this herd of carcasses would be the first of several such scenes of carnage Strongheart would be witnessing along the way. His heart broke a little bit with each skull, with each pile of bleached bones he saw.

He looked at the salesman and said, “You know the buffalo sustained my father's people and so many are being slaughtered. It will end up killing many Indians.”

The drummer said, “No offense, but I would guess that many right now would not mind that, after the heroic fall of General Custer.”

Joshua did not raise an eyebrow and just said, “I heard about that. It is a shame the red men and the white men cannot simply live in peace.”

“Well,” Vosen said, “I agree. Live and let live, I always say. I read all about Custer's Last Stand. What a hero. He stood there with so many savages, no offense, charging down on him, a pistol in each hand, and he was the last one of his men to be cut down.”

“How do you know he was the last to fall?” Joshua asked innocently.

“Well, I read the account in the newspapers,” the salesman replied. “They thoroughly research stories like that before they put them in print, you know.”

Strongheart just smiled politely and nodded his head. He thought to himself
If he only knew
.

“The Indian Ring!” Vosen said suddenly.

“What?” Joshua anwered.

“The Indian Ring!” Vosen answered. “Ever hear of it? I would wager a stout bet that it was behind Custer's Last Stand.”

Strongheart acted innocent, saying, “The Indian Ring?”

The drummer replied, “Yes, I travel back and forth between the West and the East all the time. I have seen some of their people. They get money from the government to buy blankets and nice things for the Indians on reservations, but instead, they buy cheap rotgut whiskey and trinkets and things, then pocket the money.”

Joshua acted shocked and simply said, “Do tell.”

They talked a little longer, then both men fell asleep in their seats, while the train kept puffing across the golden-green seas of prairie grass. It was after breakfast and both men sipped coffee as the train pulled through Saint Louis. On the eastern side, they did not stop at one station but slowly passed through. There were two flashes and the window exploded by Joshua's head. A piece of glass cut him along the cheekbone, and he had his Peacemaker out and peered out the window. Two men were atop a water tower and were now scrambling down. He saw two distinctive horses tied below, a snowflake Appaloosa and a strawberry roan with four white stockings.

It was then Strongheart noticed the twitching leg kicking his foot. Lawrence Vosen had been shot through the head, dying instantly. Both bullets had just missed Joshua. Two women screamed in the car, but Joshua was too busy scrambling back out the car toward the stock car where Eagle was traveling.

He quickly saddled Eagle, opened the door, and as the train slowly went through the outskirts of Saint Louis, Joshua saddled up, watched for the best spot, squeezed Eagle hard in the ribs, and leapt out onto the berm the train was
passing. The mighty paint hit the ground running and Strongheart raced back toward the big city to the water tower, which was still in sight.

Strongheart tore along the tracks toward the water tower. Nearby he saw where the two men fled away from the railroad bed. Instead of cantering, Joshua eased Eagle into a mile-eating fast trot, realizing he was in for a long race to catch up.

Eagle trotted along the trail following his nose and did not require neck reining or leg aids to indicate what to do. He sensed that he was to overtake the two unusually colored horses, who he could clearly smell with his giant nostrils.

In an hour, Strongheart spotted the two horses, both lathered up, because the killers were pushing them too hard. Instead of using a mile-eating trot like Joshua had done with Eagle, they had galloped until they had to stop, let each horse catch his breath, then start again. Both horses were already in danger of binding up, with their muscles cramping and causing the horses to stop.

As he trotted along, the Pinkerton pulled his Winchester carbine from the scabbard and held it across the swells of his saddle. After several minutes, one of the shooters looked back and saw Joshua. He drew his .44 and fired back toward Strongheart only to be ripped out of the saddle by a rifle bullet and a second following the first almost immediately. He spilled from his saddle as if he had been poleaxed and tumbled along the ground lifeless.

The second, on the roan, dropped his head down and put the spurs to his horse. Joshua did the same and Eagle leapt out in a mile-eating stride. As he quickly got closer the Pinkerton could see the other horse was very lathered. The man was large but very frightened and did not even think about shooting until Eagle was a few steps away and closing fast. He twisted in the saddle, a Navy .36 Colt in his hand,
and Joshua just switched to his left side from the right rear, and the man tried to twist to shoot that way. It was too late, Strongheart was alongside and dove sideways onto the man and both bodies flew off to the right of the horses and crashed and rolled on the ground with hard thuds.

Joshua was staggering to his knees when a meat hook–sized fist crashed into his left temple, and he saw stars. He shook his head and faced the large man who had a broken bloody nose from the fall.

Strongheart grinned and said, “Is that the hardest punch you've got?”

His ego bruised, the behemoth roared and charged forward, which is exactly what the Pinkerton agent wanted. He grabbed the outstretched wrists, skipped back on one foot, and placed the other firmly in the brute's stomach. He skipped back a step, sat down, and straightened his right leg out, sending the killer flying upside down through the air, and landing on his back with a loud thud. Joshua could hear the wind leave the man in a rush.

Strongheart grabbed the gasping sniper by the hair, forcing him to his feet, and he punched him hard three times in a row, in the stomach. The man fell to the ground, face contorted in panic as he tried to catch his breath. Strongheart pulled the man's gun out and tossed it on the other side of Eagle, who had walked up.

Strongheart drew his Colt Peacemaker and sat down on a trailside log.

He said, “Stand up.”

The man complied, holding his stomach.

Joshua went on, “Mister, that train is stopping at the next town and is taking on wood and water. I plan on catching it, so I have no time for games. Who hired you to try to shoot me?”

The large man snarled, “Go to hell, half-breeed!”

Boom!
Flames shot off the barrel of Colt's .45 and the man grabbed his right ear screaming. Half of it was gone and it bled profusely.

“Wrong answer,” Strongheart said. “Hurry with the right one. You're running out of ears and other body parts.”

He started talking, “I was hired by Robert Hartwell.”

“Where is he?” Strongheart said.

He saw an almost imperceptible flicker in the man's eyes, which put him on guard immediately. The eye flicker turned to a deer-in-the-torchlight look, and he knew trouble was coming. The man's hand came up with a large-bore .45-caliber derringer apparently hidden in his pocket. Strongheart's gun boomed and the man's head almost exploded. Joshua looked at the man lying flat on his back unmoving, eyes wide open staring up at the sky, but actually seeing nothing. He shook his head.

“Wonderful. Good shooting, Joshua,” he said to himself sarcastically. “Kill the man before he can give you any information.”

Strongheart went through the man's pockets and then mounted Eagle on the run. He knew the train would be watering and taking on fuel at the next stop, so he hoped he could catch up. Eagle was still as strong as could be. He reined him into a mile-eating fast trot and paralleled the tracks.

An hour passed, and Strongheart saw the next town ahead where the train was stopped. He pushed forward, finally allowing Eagle to slow to a walk. They had made it. He had to cool the horse down before putting him back on the train, so he walked him back and forth on the loading platform before putting him back on the train. Meanwhile, he spoke with the brakeman and told him what happened. In the car, he gave the horse a good long rubdown. He decided to ride in the car with him awhile to make sure he
was fine physically, and once again Eagle amazed him with his stamina.

As the train started up, Strongheart started feeling the strain on his muscles from the chases, fight, and adrenaline-pumping experience he had once again survived. Lying back on the golden straw, he closed his eyes and he drifted off to sleep. He dreamed about his youth in Montana.

Joshua's stepfather, Dan Trooper, was demanding but had to be to bring this young boy into manhood befitting the high expectations his mother had for him. She saw to it that Joshua had his nose in books in school, and she made him study Shakespeare and other great writers. She told him that as much as he was learning to shoot guns as well as bows and arrows, he also needed to learn how to communicate effectively if he wanted to get anywhere in life.

One time, Dan told young Joshua to take the old grade mare out and harvest a young bull or cow elk for the family for meat. The last time Joshua did that, he was told to shoot a deer, and did so but had been given only two bullets and took two to shoot the doe. He got a switching from his stepdad out behind the woodshed. Dan instilled in his young brain to only use one bullet to kill anything, to always shoot clean, so the animal would not suffer, and not to waste expensive bullets. He rode far out heading toward the darkest timber he could see, feeling that would be where he would surely find a large harem of elk bedded down.

The teenaged Strongheart entered the trees and skirted north through them, seeing some signs but nothing fresh. He heard shooting and yelling and made his way along the foothills toward the noise. Dismounting and creeping forward through the trees, he saw a small but fierce battle going on. Two large bearded mountain men who had apparently joined forces with about seven Crow warriors were fighting
against a force of about twenty Blackfoot warriors who were all on foot. The mountain men and Crow all had horses, plus the mountain men had two pack mules as well. The goal of the Blackfoot war party was quite obvious to the young man.

This was less than six miles away from the town where his father was marshal and his young mother owned a popular general merchandise store. He felt that warning his pa was more important than taking an elk right now. He hopped on the mare, wove through the trees south, and when he was around the ridgeline out of sight, he pushed the small mare into a gallop toward the distant mountain valley town. When he arrived, he rode straight to the marshal's office and city jail and jumped off his lathered horse and ran into the building.

“Pa, Pa,” he said excitedly, “I was out west scouting for elk and there were two trappers, joined up with seven Crows, and they were being attacked by about twenty Blackfeet.”