Yankton

Chapter 36

Chapter 36 War Games

It was approaching dusk, the clouds had started to move east, and I was advantage of the best time of day to watch for danger. Sure enough, here came four men on horseback not moving particularly fast. My binoculars brought them up nice and close. I called to Colin who came alive, and crawled up to where I was watching. He had his own pair of binoculars, so I had him keep an eye on our back. The riders had now stopped with one man dismounting, they all began to look around as the man began to walk around and study the ground.

"No doubt about it Colin," I said, "We've got trouble on our tail." As I studied them, I noticed one man looking off to their right towards the pines.

"I think there are more," I said quietly, "Must be outriders off in those trees,"

"There may be men above us," replied Colin, as he scanned the trees up on our left.

"Possibly," I replied, "but it's pretty steep and rocky that way, a man couldn't ride that, he'd be on foot, keep an ear out for the crows and ravens, they'll let us know if anyone's moving around up there."

I was pretty sure they couldn't see us from where they were, but anyone moving along on our left certainly could. I didn't like our position either, with little effort, they could easily outflank us. I decided to let them pass, then move down to the pines on our western flank.

No doubt about it, these guys were following us, however I concentrated on the riders moving through the very place I wanted to get to. Colin wasn't reporting anything, so it was more than likely nobody was on our left, finally all the riders disappeared from sight, we waited another twenty minutes, then saddled up and cautiously moved down the slope.

By the time we got into the pines, it was dark, although our eyes had adjusted, and I didn't need to haul out the night vision gear. We were now clear of the "hills," and forced to use the sporadic pines and cottonwoods as concealment. As we slowly worked our way south, we kept crossing small creeks and streams running a west to east course. I didn't want to get too far west, or we'd run into canyons and draws. I was using a modern topographic map of eastern Wyoming, but the basic landforms hadn't really changed, some of the waterways we encountered, didn't show up on my map but that couldn't be helped. I wanted to swing wide of Newcastle, but not get into the ravines. We kept up a slow but steady pace most of the night until we reached a spot where I thought it best to swing a little farther west, so we started to move deeper into the forest towards the open area to our west.

Before we knew it, we had ridden right into a heard of buffalo who had bedded down just inside the tree line. Huffing and chuffing, alarmed at our presence, we were really in the s**t now. Our horses didn't like the situation either but Colin and I kept them moving. Up to this point, I had not bothered with my night vision goggles, as I bounced around too much, along with depth perception problems. I put them on, and snapped the binocular-like device over my eyes. Dark massive shapes spread out all through the trees blocking our path towards the open grassland to the west. We couldn't stop, or go back, going forward was the only option, I had known fear in war, but this was a whole new "ballgame." The buffalo were clearly agitated and nervous, but not as much as we were. Neither Colin nor I spoke a word, as we carefully picked our way through the resting herd, thinking that any moment, they would stampede. We rode side by side, each with a pack mule behind us.

I was afraid those stupid mules would do something dumb, but it was our damn horses that kept balking, and acting skittery. That's all we needed, for one of the horses to throw one of us and bolt, causing me to think about the possibility of grabbing onto a tree and trying to climb it. Dawn found us almost out of the heard, and very close to the open prairie, although there were plenty of the beasts standing around there as well. Finally, by the grace of God, we broke out into the open, and started to turn south again, then Colin announced,

"We've got some fellows watching us over there on the right." I thought he was talking about the outlaws but turning around, I saw four riders sitting on ponies. A quick scan with my binoculars showed them to be Indians, no doubt a hunting party after the heard of buffalo we just came through.

From the "fat" into the fire, we couldn't win, however I chose to play it cool, and not break into a run. The hunters sat atop of a small rise just watching us, but they made no attempt to attack us, I was later told that it was because there were probably other tribal members gutting and stripping down animals and any shooting or commotion would have stampeded the heard. We put a lot of miles between us and the buffalo before stopping to eat and rest, as I stepped down off my horse, I collapsed in a fit of shakes, Colin wasn't much better, we were wound up like watch springs from the tension, and although I hated to take the time, we rested for close to two hours before resuming our ride.

About a half hour after we had resumed our travel, I spotted a dust cloud off to our right. Studying it with my binoculars, I realized it was an army patrol,

"Make sure that AR is well hidden under your saddle blanket Colin," I said, as I checked my own equipment. We moved towards them stopping about one hundred feet away, as I held up my hand as a bearded officer and an aid rode up to talk.

"Sir, my name is Brian Yankton, this is Colin Murphy, we are on our way to Fort Laramie with a large amount of gold. We work for Michael O'Rourke, who has an agreement with your commander to leave his gold at the fort." Both men looked over towards our pack mules, then the officer spoke,

"I am Lieutenant Carpenter Third Calvary, we are returning to the fort, you're welcome to follow along with us, but there will be no stopping until we stop for the night." We agreed, and fell in behind the troopers.

We rode with barely a break, I had to hand it to these guys, they could travel. By the time we did stop, I couldn't feel my ass; Colin wasn't much better and vocally complained about it as only an Irishman can do. We brushed down our mounts as well as the mules, and fed them a small ration of modern horse chow, I had brought along. Because I didn't want the soldiers coming over and snooping around, Colin and I stayed about twenty-five feet away from the others, by the time we had finished with our horses, and got ready to eat, I discovered that all the firewood had been scarped up. Well we didn't need wood, and I certainly wasn't going to resort to buffalo chips to cook on, so we went back to using the Esbit stoves I had packed. While Colin and I were talking, waiting for our food to heat, one of the troopers came over, thinking we didn't have any firewood, and were running a cold camp.

The man was a sergeant, and from his accent, another Irishman, I started to say something, but Colin beat me to it.

"Whatcha got there fellas?"

"Stoves, what's it look like?"

"Mighty strange looking stoves," replied the sergeant, "Where's yer wood?"

"Don't need any," came the response. The soldier bent down to get a better look while Colin glared at him,

"Ye boys have taken all the wood leavin' the two 'O us at make our own way here, but we'll be fine." Not knowing what else to say, the man left,

"That's no way to treat a countryman," I said. Colin just grunted and checked the pot his chili mac was cooking in,

"The man smelled our food and thought he'd get us at ask him at supper." I snickered and sniffed the air. Colin was probably right, the soldiers probably had nothing better than hardtack and bacon, maybe beans, while we dined on chili mac and chicken noodle stew with veggies, not to mention dried fruit and brownies, the sell must have caused a lot of interest in the main camp.

As we were cleaning up, the Lieutenant came over on his own recon mission; Colin was savoring his brownie with the last of his coffee so the officer didn't see very much.

"We may get a visit tonight from Indians looking to help themselves to our stock; you're welcome to picket your horses with ours."

"Well sir," I replied, I think we'll remain here, but thanks for the warning, I certainly hope that doesn't happen since it will result in a lot of sorrow back in their camp. Anyone found here after dark, will be found here in the morning, catch my drift?" Lieutenant Carpenter gave me a funny look and replied,

"Obviously you have never had experience with our red friends; they can slip in and out with no one being any the wiser until morning when half the stock is missing." I shrugged,

"Well we'll see Lieutenant, however like I said, if they try it there WILL, be dead Indians." I could see irritation on his face, we weren't under his command, so we didn't have to take orders,

"You seem awfully certain about that," he said.

"Sir, no disrespect, you are correct, Indians pride themselves on their ability to sneak into a camp and make off with peoples horses, but it won't be happening tonight, just make sure your men don't start wildly shooting all over when Colin and I start knocking off would-be thieves." He stood there looking at us for a moment, then walked back to his camp shaking his head. I let Colin take the first watch but before that, I drilled him on proper loading and firing procedures, as well as instructing him on how to use the night scope that was mounted on his AR. I really didn't like the idea of using all this modern stuff around these soldiers, but the Lieutenant was right, the Indians were expert stock thieves, and we couldn't afford to loose our mounts.

Colin woke me early concerned about the coyote yips and howls coming from the dark. I did a quick run-through with him on using the night sight, then "firing up" the Thermal scope on my M1A took a look. Zooming in on the source of the fake coyote cries, I immediately spotted two images slowly working their way towards the Calvary picket line. Colin also reported seeing three Indians crawling towards our horses,

"Well you know the drill Colin, slowly pull that charging handle back then slide it forward locking it in. Relax, get a good sight picture, then gently squeeze the trigger." I re-located the two nearing the picket line put the cross hair on the first man.

All hell then broke loose, I dropped my man then immediately shot the second as he started to turn and run. I was vaguely aware of Colin popping away next to me then dry-firing as he ran out of ammo. Meanwhile, the army camp had come alive with shouting and shooting. I pushed Colin to the ground as I did the same,

"Don't want to get hit with friendly fire there Colin," I exclaimed, "Those idiots don't know where those Indians are, do you think you hit anyone?"

"I think so sir, the first one went down I think I hit another as well, but perhaps just nicked him."

"Well I'm not going out there until morning," I replied, let's get the scopes off these rifles and get this stuff put away before they come over here." Each of us had a Winchester as a decoy and back-up rifle which we promptly pulled out of their scabbards.

Once the commotion died down in the army camp the Lieutenant came rushing over,

"Who shot, was that you two?"

"It was sir, and I think you'll find three or four dead Indians out there in the morning, I don't think they'll be back." Lieutenant Carpenter squatted down practically right in my face,

"I don't know what's going on here, or what your game is mister, but it sounded like a damn war down here. I haven't heard that much shooting since Saylor's Creek, and mighty strange sounding it was too, mind letting me in on your little secret, I didn't see any other men with you." He was on to us as I feared, so I tried my best at damage control.

"Well sir," I began, "If you want answers, you're going to have to make your way up to Purgatory just north of Deadwood, we'll share a drink and I'll tell you the damedest tale you ever heard, but for now rest assured there are dead braves out there, get some sleep, they won't be back tonight."

I couldn't see his face in the dark but I thought I heard a grunt of disgust. Before he left, I asked,

"Sir, I thought you looked a bit old for a lieutenant, what flag were you fighting for?" There was a long pause,

"Stars and bars, if you must know."

"Ah! Galvanized Yankee!" I replied, there wasn't any reply as he made his way back to his camp. I stayed up a little longer watching with my night vision goggles, but the Indians didn't return. In the morning Colin and I went out to check our handy work finding my two dead, and two for Colin; however we spotted a blood trail, so he must have caught someone else. Before returning, to our camp I took the moccasins the braces were wearing along with a trap door Springfield with Indian decorations all over it. Each man had been shot center of mass, while Colin had caught his all over. One in the head and one down near the pelvic area.

We just had time to grab a cup of coffee and chomp down a nutra bar and a cold pop-tart before Lieutenant Carpenter's men were ready to ride, however we could see them pointing over this way and no doubt talking about us. Earlier, I saw the Lieutenant and the sergeant examining the bodies but they didn't say anything to us. We reached the fort around dusk, but for some reason there were a lot of people staying there. Freight wagons, farm wagons, people of all stripes, I had brought my iphone but it was too dark to take any decent pictures, however I got three or four in the morning, almost getting caught in the process. W linked up with the commanding officer, who O'Rourke had made the arrangement with, then it looked like a long trip to Cheyenne was in the cards.

Just before we rode out, Lieutenant Carpenter came up to us,

"Look Mr. Yankton, about the other day…"

"Sir, I was just glad to help, but if you still have questions, you know where to find me, it's a long trip I know, but you won't regret it, and oh yeah, I'd really like to get your story, I'm working on a book about the grunts who fought that war, right now, I don't have a lot of guys who fought for the south, there's coin in it as well, traveling expenses and all that."

"I'll give it some thought," was all he said.

As Colin and I rode out of the fort, I took a good look around, I had come here when I was a kid with my dad a couple years before he died, the place was slowly being restored, and obviously there were a lot of missing buildings. I took several shots of "Old Bedlam," the post surgeon's quarters. And a couple of the barracks. I was sure we would be returning to the fort at some point, and I wanted Mark to see this, especially the hospital. As far as my offer to Lieutenant Carpenter about getting his story, I had thought about such an endeavor before, but this was the first time I had said anything to anybody about it. Well, I guess I'd just have to get started on it.

We rode farther west following the Platte River past Register cliff where I insisted we stop and carve our names into the soft rock. I took pictures of all the names registered there, some already fading; after all it was close to thirty years since the first names had been carved. I took pictures of everything, especially names that hadn't been carved very deep and were already melting away. "B.Y. / C.M. 1877" It didn't mean much to Colin but I told him,

"Colin, many of these names will be still on here a hundred and thirty-seven years from now; it's just a part of our history."

"Think our initials will last that long," he asked.

"Well sometime when I return home, I'll have to come over here and take a look." He thought that was a lot of time and trouble not realizing I could drive down here in less than a day. We also took a look at the channels actually cut into the solid rock by the thousands of iron wagon wheels passing through here as people made their way over the Oregon Trail, many leaving their names or initials to posterity on Register Cliff.

As we continued south, I realized I was seeing things that had survived into the twenty-first century, I'm sure the people who carved their names into the rock never envisioned someone reading them in 2014, or the troopers at Fort Laramie thinking about people trooping through their barracks over a hundred years later, certainly lots to think about. Two days later we rode into Cheyenne, without anyone trying to hold us up, I was amazed, perhaps if we had followed the stagecoach road things might have been different. I made contact with Mr. Jennings agent, who was also surprised we had not been robbed. Jennings had wired the man to pay us a bonus of fifty dollars extra should we arrive intact so in the end, we received over four hundred dollars for both deliveries.

That doesn't seem like much in modern dollars, but it was a small fortune here in 1877, gold isn't worth anything if it can't be spent or made into coins. Colin was certainly sitting "pretty" but save for sixty dollars; the rest was going to Montana, and the building fund. We stayed another couple days, sleeping in regular beds and getting showers. We also purchased selected supplies for Jennings to sell to the miners as well as things for our "convenience" store. I also got some shots of old Cheyenne, a steam train that was heading west, as well as candid's of people on the street.