Chapter 29The next morning—a Monday by my imprecise calculation—Buffalo Leg suggested I dress in breechclout and moccasins before going to the guardhouse. On the way, we passed the adjutant’s office where Crazy Horse had breathed his last. Either the army was sending for tribesmen to witness the coming spectacle or else word was getting around. It appeared a number of people had arrived during the night.
Buffalo Leg made certain we got to the guardhouse well ahead of the expected crowd and made sure we remained at the front of the throng. Touch the Clouds arrived and stationed himself at my side. Then we waited.
The crowd stirred like a herd of cattle shifting at midnight when a man with silver leaves on his shoulders arrived with an American in civilian clothing in tow. Touch the Clouds
