A Cold Day in Hell: The Dull Knife Battle, 1876

“Thirty-five miles of it,” Bourke declared, staring at the flames. “Crook wrote Mackenzie a letter saying the rugged hike took its toll on Dodge’s boys: many of them are crippled with cold and lack of sleep.”

For the most part it was a quiet, subdued camp that night while the anxious soldiers continued to argue over the possibility that they could be attacked. It was the general consensus that with that morning’s sighting of an enemy camp to the west, the Cheyenne had followed the cavalry’s trail that afternoon and would likely jump the bivouac sometime before dawn.

Quiet too were Cosgrove’s scouts. After two full nights of grieving and celebrating, even the subdued Shoshone did not wail and sing. By the time most of the weary troopers were crawling into their cold blankets, their feet toward the greasewood fires they struggled to keep going for want of fuel, the valley of Willow Creek lay somber and quiet beneath the lifting clouds that played tag with a mercurial three-quarter moon.

Seamus had banked the fire for the first hour of fitful sleep and dragged his saddle blanket over him and John Bourke, releasing a long sigh as he tugged his collar up and the coyote-fur cap down over his ears … when the wild, screeching shouts yanked him to his feet about the time the first volleys of gunfire cracked the serenity of the night.

“Goddamn!” Bourke shouted, rolling out and looking toward the head of the column’s bivouac.

“I know, Johnny!” Donegan snapped as he snatched up his rifle. “I figured the h’athens would hit us from the rear!”

Bourke tugged down on his floppy slouch hat, saying, “Looks like they circled round to strike our front!”

While noncoms barked orders and officers dashed about to form up their units in the dark, every man kicking snow into the fire pits, the wounded cried out not to be abandoned, helpless and tied to their travois now that they were under attack. Many of the horses yanked and pitched against their picket pins driven into the frozen ground near every fire, or fought against the short length of rope that sidelined each mount.

More gunshots snapped the frigid blackness like cracks in the back of a mirror. Screams and bloodcurdling battle cries floated in from the Indian scouts’ camp on downstream at the head of the march.

Bounding over the sage and zigzagging through the confused, frightened companies sprinted Donegan and Bourke, racing for the scene of the attack. By the time they reached the outskirts of the scouts’ bivouac, Cosgrove, Eckles, and Lieutenant Delaney were seizing control of the situation.

Donegan skidded to a halt in his tracks, shaking his head. “A god-blamed buffalo shoot!”

“Mr. Cosgrove!” Bourke hollered in dismay.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” the civilian came trudging over at double time.

“What the hell’s the meaning of your men shooting at buffalo at a time like this?”

Cosgrove glanced at Donegan first, saying, “Well, Lieutenant—”

Bourke interrupted angrily. “Don’t you realize how downright skittish those soldiers are back there?”

“You don’t under—”

“And you’ve gone and allowed your scouts to fire their weapons?”

“Hold on, Johnny,” Seamus soothed. “What’s going on, Tom?”

With a great shrug Cosgrove replied, “Them buffalo just moseyed on into our camp all on their own.”

“Didn’t know they grazed at night,” Bourke commented. “I’m … I’m sorry I jumped on you—”

“No problem, Lieutenant,” Cosgrove replied. “If you fellas will excuse me—I’ve got to help get things settled back down.”

“You do that, Tom,” Donegan declared with a joyous roar. “And when you have all this noisy spill stuffed back into the bottle, what say you bring around a nice big buffalo-hump roast for me and my nervous lieutenant friend here?”

Bourke nodded and agreed, “I could do with some buffalo to eat, Tom. Doesn’t look like we’ll be going back to sleep anytime soon!”

Chapter 41

Big Freezing Moon 1876

THE INDIANS

Late News from Crook’s Command—All Well.

CHEYENNE, November 27.—General Crook’s command reached Fort Reno November 14, in good condition, and was paid off by Major Stanton. The weather is severe but the troops are well prepared for a winter campaign. One hundred Snake and Shoshone Indians joined the command there, making nearly 400 Indian allies in all, and the total strength of the command 2,000. The hostile Indians, according to the best information, are scattered on both sides of the Big Horn mountains, and a campaign on each side may be necessary before completing the work. Meantime Crazy Horse, with about 4,000 lodges, is on the Rosebud, near the scene of the June fight, for which point a cavalry command left under General McKenzie, and would have to march about six days before reaching it. The cavalry are in excellent condition, and if this movement is successful the heaviest work of the winter would have been accomplished.