It almost made him bristle, to have these men think he could be bought. Instead, he asked, “Why did you figure that?”
Crook answered, “Because … because of your new family, Mr. Donegan.”
“That’s why I recommended you,” Mackenzie said joyfully. “I told the general about your new son—how devoted a family man you are … and I thought—”
“So what is it you’ll pay a fool for riding out on a fool’s errand?”
With the smile of a man who had hooked his catch, Crook said, “I’ve figured out how many days it might take you to get there and back—”
“You better be figuring on me taking twice as long.”
“But even if you moved only at night—”
Seamus interrupted Crook. “How much, General?”
Crook swallowed, stroking his long beard. “A hundred dollars.”
“What?” he snorted, almost ready to laugh. “A hundred dollars is what you brought me here to offer? Wanting me to ride alone into that country and risk my hair for a hundred dollars!”
The commanding general straightened as if stung. “Then tell me—what is the journey worth to you?”
“Nothing is worth getting myself killed for,” he said all too quietly, suddenly souring on the idea that had lit a spark in him.
Mackenzie asked, “Not even the chance to provide well for your wife and newborn son?”
“If I ain’t alive to ever see ’em again …” Seamus muttered, then began to consider an option.
“Two hundred dollars,” Crook suddenly blurted in that silence. “I can offer no more than that.”
For a long moment Donegan closed his eyes, conjuring up in his mind the images he had carried with him of Samantha, and the boy he was still to name. Knowing he had brought her here to this wild north country from the Staked Plain of Texas in hopes of reaching the goldfields of Montana Territory—there to strike it rich, all the better to provide for her. And now there were two relying on him.
He licked his lips as he opened his eyes, staring down at the map that told a man too damned little about that country where roamed the wild hostile tribes. All there were across that expanse were far too few inked lines: river courses, a few streams. Nothing else of any use.
Donegan looked the general squarely in the eye. “You’ll pay me two hundred dollars?”
“I said that, yes,” Crook replied, a bit anxious. He laid his two palms down on the map, rocking forward slightly.
Mackenzie stepped closer to lay a hand on Donegan’s shoulder. “My old friend, will you go?”
For a moment he stared deep into the colonel’s eyes. Over the last two weeks he himself had seen in those eyes, on Mackenzie’s face, the first flickers of madness, the first tattered shreds of severe depression; then as quickly he had watched those eyes clear of imbalance as the man suddenly became as lucid as any man could claim to be.
“I will go—”
“Good!” Crook exclaimed exuberantly, starting to reach for a small stack of foolscap.
“Wait,” Donegan cautioned. “I’ll go on two conditions.”
“What are they?” Mackenzie inquired.
“The first is that you pay me the two hundred dollars before I begin my ride.”
Mackenzie turned to Crook, asking, “Is that possible, General?”
Finally Crook nodded. “Anything is possible. Yes, Mr. Donegan—I can have that arranged. But why would you want to carry that much—”
“That’s the second condition,” Seamus interrupted.
“Yes?” Mackenzie asked, more curious than ever before.
“I’m not going to carry that money on me,” Donegan replied. “I want you to issue my pay to me, but see that it is sent with your next courier to Fetterman, and on down to Laramie.”
It was Mackenzie who asked, “To your wife?”
“No,” he answered. “Not yet. Send it to Colonel Townsend—with my instructions that he is to hold it in secrecy for Samantha … to guard it safely until I send him word upon my return to this outfit that he can turn it over to my wife … or …”
“Or?” Crook asked.
“Or … Colonel Townsend can give it to my wife and son … when he informs them that I’ve been killed in the line of duty.”
Epilogue Big Freezing Moon 1876
THE INDIANS
Spotted Tail and His Band.
ST. JOSEPH, December 2.—Spotted Tail, now chief of the Sioux nation, and the ninety-six Sioux braves sent to examine the Indian territory, with a view to the removal of the Sioux nation there, passed through the city this afternoon homeward bound in charge of Col. A. G. Boone and Dr. J. W. Daniels, of the Sioux commission, and disbursing agent Major Howard. They have been five weeks from home. The St. Joe Herald’s interview say the delegation took wagons at Wichita, 424 miles through the territory, to Muskogee, on the M.K.&T. road, driving twenty-five days. At Ockmulgee two chiefs of the Creek nation made speeches, and Spotted Tail replied. The Indians say nothing, being under bonds to those at home to say nothing until their return. The commissioners say they see the Indians are pleased with the country, and think, if the right men are sent to treat with them, the whole of the Spotted Tail and Red Cloud agencies, 2,000 in number, will move to the territory without trouble in the spring. The Indians liked their trip.
After meeting up with Wooden Leg’s group of hunters, the People crossed the Tongue River* and continued down the low ocher benches along the east bank to the mouth of Otter Creek, where they made their cold camp that night.
As the sun came up the following day, Morning Star had the scouts lead the people north by east along Otter Creek into the rising hill country. Sleep and walk. Sleep and walk again. Day after terribly cold day.
Upon reaching the forks of Otter Creek the scouts took the weary, hungry people over the low divide to Box Elder Creek.† It was on this day that the weather turned milder than it had been in a long, long time. For many days now Wolf Tooth had been wearing his frozen coat. Ever since the time when the People had emerged from the mountains and the young hunters had killed the first buffalo, Wolf Tooth had been wearing what he had cut from the soft underbelly of the cow’s hide. Slashing a hole for his head, he had draped the green hide over his naked body to stay warm. But long ago the cold air froze the skin solid, so stiff Wolf Tooth could not get himself out of the hide. Not until today—when at last the temperature rose enough that, with the help of two friends, the old warrior could struggle out of his heavy, icy prison.
At long last, eleven suns after the fight with the pony soldiers and their Indians, the advance scouts came galloping back, yipping in excitement, to the head of the march where Morning Star, Little Wolf, and the other chiefs came to a stop, new snow nearly reaching their knees.
“What is it?” Morning Star demanded of the three excited young men who came skidding to a halt nearby.
“Have you seen more soldiers?” Little Wolf asked. “No!” one of the young scouts answered joyfully. “There! Beyond that hill! We have seen the Crazy Horse people!”
As word shot back through the cold stragglers, the old men began to sing once more the strong-heart songs, and the women trilled their tongues in joy. Once more Ma-heo-o had delivered His People from the hand of disaster.
Hurrying to the crest of that low hill where he could smell woodsmoke, Morning Star peered down, his limbs stiff and wooden with cold. Below, along a bend on the east side of Beaver