Black Sun, The Battle of Summit Springs, 1869 by Terry C. Johnston

Author:Terry C. Johnston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Chapter 17

May 16, 1869

“To my dying day, Cody—I’ll not forget that scene when the whole unit came up and we found you and M Company making a stand of it,” said Major Eugene Carr late on the evening following the brief skirmish with the Cheyenne on Spring Creek.

Seamus Donegan sat with Cody at the fire where coffee boiled as they waited for the gray of twilight to darken into night. “You ought to hear Babcock and Volkmar go on about you, Cody.”

Carr nodded, accepting a tin of coffee. “They haven’t stopped talking about your coolness and bravery—especially in the face of your wound.”

Cody gently touched the fresh bandage tied round his head to cover the deep furrow that marked where the Indian bullet had plowed along the top of his skull for nearly half a foot.

“If I go on this ride for you, General—I need two things.”

“One is that I’m riding with you,” Donegan said quickly.

Cody nodded, with a grin. “And the other is, I need a new hat.”

Carr chuckled. “I’ll supply you both the Irishman and the hat.”

He wagged his head slowly, still aching the way it was. “Glory—but that was a damned fine hat, Seamus. Almost as pretty as my head before them red bastards tried to shoot that off.”

“They nearly did, Cody,” Carr replied. “We rode to the sounds of the guns as fast as I could bring up the whole unit. And as we came up, the Cheyenne broke off from their attack on Babcock. But I’ve got to tell you I was confused for a moment or two—seeing the Indians in retreat on the prairie beyond … then seeing a figure wearing what looked like a red cap rise slowly from the crest of a nearby hill. It puzzled me, because the figure wore buckskins and his long hair was caught on the breeze.”

“Sounds like he was a Injin to me, it does,” Donegan muttered with a smile for Cody.

Carr nodded. “When I looked closer, I could see that the figure led your horse, Powder Face … and I found that the figure was you, but without that dusty sombrero you’re so fond of. And that’s when I first spied the bloody handkerchief covering your frightful wound.”

Cody stood, slinging the dregs of his coffee toward the firepit. “That hat was a favorite, General. That’s why I want the army to get me another like it as soon as possible.”

“When we reach McPherson, rest assured of that.”

“And for my ride?”

“Any hat you want, Cody. Even mine.”

“One like it will do,” Cody replied. “So—you agree Fort Kearny is our best bet?”

“North and east of us, on the Platte. We’ve been chasing this bunch of Cheyenne about as long as we can without resupply. Fort Kearny is the closest depot. It’s up to you two now.”

“We’ll bring supplies back for the regiment. No one else knows this country between here and there the way I do.”

“And you’re sure as hell not riding out of here alone tonight with that chunk of skull ridged up the way it is,” Donegan quickly added.

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