Gunsmoke at Powder River (The Long-Knives #4) by Patrick E. Andrews

Author:Patrick E. Andrews
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sioux, us cavalry, sioux indians, western frontier fiction, western america, western action adventure, western action fiction, western action and adventure ebook, patrick e andrews, cavalry and indians
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Eleven – A Grim Discovery

Whatever fatigue the men had been feeling earlier was completely dissipated by the battle. The overwhelming fear and excitement of the fighting, combined with the noise and slamming recoil of the Springfield rifles, invigorated Company L both spiritually and physically. When they formed up to continue their march back to the main column, they were as talkative as excited schoolgirls, although there was no gaiety in their chatter—only a sense of relief that they were still alive.

“We whipped ’em!” was the statement voiced more often by the excited young soldiers.

“Ain’t no damn Indian gonna stand up against disciplined infantry,” veteran Corporal Jim O’Rourke of the fourth squad said. “But it still makes me wonder why the bastards run off like that.”

His good friend Sergeant Tom McCarey was equally confused. “They coulda wore us down after a while. There really wasn’t no reason a’tall fer ’em to skedaddle.”

Private Daniel Black of the fourth squad thought he had it all figured out. “We whipped ’em good and proper. That’s the plain truth of it, and that’s exactly why they run off.”

Mack Baker called over from the second squad. “They just stopped fighting, Johnny Raw. Them damned Sioux wasn’t whipped by a long shot.”

“Yes, they was!” Black yelled back.

“What the hell do you know about it?” Baker sneered in anger over a recruit disagreeing with him.

Others voiced their opinions and an argument ranged up and down the column, with the veterans insisting the Indians were not defeated and the younger men arguing they’d been given a good hiding.

Sergeant Robertson did nothing about the excited talking in the ranks for a while. But after allowing ten minutes of the chattering, he bellowed:

“Shut your yaps! You’re at route step and the enemy is still close by!”

The men quickly obeyed, their nervously darting eyes the only sign of their physical agitation. This extra energy generated by the fighting was also reflected in the increase of their rate of march. They pressed on across the rolling countryside in quick, distance-eating strides. Lieutenant Worthington, specifically ordered by Riker to keep a careful, measured pace, was constantly feeling pressure from the column behind him.

Toward the late afternoon they began to recognize landmarks that showed them they were very close to the main column. The thoughts of hot food and rest raised spirits. It made the jobs of the noncommissioned officers a bit more difficult in maintaining discipline, but even they laughed at the absurd joking and bantering while doing some unnecessary chattering of their own.

The general mood in the company continued to improve and the pace stepped up even more, until a cry came from the front of the column:

“Oh, God!”

Large birds could be seen in the short distance, circling and diving toward the ground out of sight behind a large section of woods. The veterans knew the meaning of the ominous sight.

“As skirmishers!” Riker yelled. “Two ranks!”

The men quickly obeyed with drill-like precision. They’d done this particular maneuver countless times while in training

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