“To drive everything before me,” Benteen said sarcastically.
Reno turned and looked at the Wolf Mountains toward which Benteen’s battalion was moving, and his face reflected what Benteen felt. There was nothing more to be said. Benteen didn’t particularly care for Reno either, and, if the truth be known, he’d rather have Custer in command than the major.
Almost immediately upon leaving Ash Creek the column hit rough going. That struck Benteen immediately in the tactical sense, telling him that no reasonable group of Indians would be camped here. They were down on the Little Big Horn as every sign and every scout in the regiment had indicated.
Benteen smiled grimly to himself. The boy general wanted the valley for himself. Well, so be it. Custer and Reno could take on the Sioux. Benteen would do as he was ordered.
Then he looked at the satchel Bouyer had given him and the smile slipped away. Today was shaping up to be a most strange day.
Reno and Custer had much in common and that fact darkly amused the major whenever he happened to reflect on it, which wasn’t often. Custer graduated last in his class at West Point, and Reno had failed to graduate with the class he entered with, the class of 1855. Then he failed to make it with the class of ’56 for the same reason: excess demerits. In fact, Reno had so many he set an Academy record of 1,031 demerits; of course he had six years to achieve that somewhat dubious honor, whereas most cadets only had four. Custer had once pointed out what an achievement that high number was, when there were actually some cadets who graduated without a single demerit, a notable example being Robert E. Lee, who had achieved some fame during the War Between the States, Custer had been sure to add. Reno had finally made it out of the Point in 1857, the year Custer entered the Academy.
When Custer had laughed about his demerits, Reno had been forced to bite his tongue. While Reno was punished for excess dements at West Point, Custer was court-martialed. Reno had heard the story from one of Custer’s classmates. Just before graduation, in 1861, Custer was officer of the guard at West Point when two cadets became involved in an altercation. Custer, instead of doing his duty and stopping the fight. Ordered the bystanders back and directed the belligerents to conduct a fair fight. Unfortunately for Custer, the officer of the day, a commissioned, regular Army officer, happened to hear these words and Custer was brought up on charges. Only the onset of the Civil War kept his Army career going.
However, unlike Custer, Reno’s war record was not notable in either direction. He served and he did his duty without particular distinction or disgrace. After the war, Reno did not have a good go of it. He managed to antagonize about!very possible person he could while trying to wrangle a good assignment and was banished to Fort Vancouver, Washington, as far away from the mainstream a soldier could be sent and still be in the Army.
Reno thought of it as the bad luck time of his career. Everyone had one. Even Custer had been court-martialed in Kansas and forced to take an unpaid leave of absence for a year not too long ago.
But Reno’s luck had changed in 1869 when he was assigned to the Seventh Cavalry at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. Or so he had thought at the time, Reno reflected as he watched the dust cloud from Benteen’s battalion.
So far his tour in the Seventh had not turned out well. Besides having to serve under Custer, of course. Two years ago Reno’s wife had died while he was afield with the Seventh. He’d requested a leave of absence to attend her funeral and take care of family business. Headquarters turned down his request, the cold letters of the reply telegram still vivid in Reno’s mind: ‘’The Department Commander feels it is imperative to decline to grant you leave. You must return to your command.”
My command, Reno thought as he glanced over at Custer still talking to Cooke. This regiment should have been mine, he fumed. Damn Custer and damn those who believed in him! The colonel had gone AWOL, absent without leave, in 1867, an offense Custer himself had punished with summary executions in the field. Reno hadn’t been with the Seventh then, but · he’d heard all about it from others who’d been there.
During General Hancock’s ’67 campaign in Kansas, Custer took it upon himself to leave the regiment while it was in the field and ride to visit his wife. The board had drummed him out and suspended him for one year. But then, because of his connections and his reputation, he was back. And here he was, still in command despite all he had done to flout the rules and regulations of the Army.
Reno watched as Cooke rode toward him. My turn, Reno thought.
“Your orders, sir, are to take your three troops along the south side of this creek. Cross the Little Big Horn, and attack the Indian camp from the south.”
Reno swallowed and looked over Cooke’s shoulder where Custer was. The general was peering to the northwest and signing with some of his scouts.
“Just my battalion?” Reno asked.
The general says that he will support your attack if you make contact.”
‘’Where will the general be?” Reno asked.
“We will be on the other side of the creek … on your right flank … within supporting distance,” Cooke replied with a bit of hesitancy in his voice.
Reno peered in the direction Custer was looking. “It’s quite a way to the river.”
“Ten or twelve miles,” Cooke replied. ‘”The general fears · that the Indians are already striking camp and are on the run.”
“On the run?” Reno repeated dully. He could not believe his orders. Benteen was chasing ghosts to the south, and Custer Was splitting what was left of the regiment once again. Hell, they’d already split from Terry. If this kept up Reno envisioned leading a platoon of men eventually.
Cooke’s voice finned up. ‘’The scouts will go with your command, sir.”
“The scouts?” He could see the half-breed who had just been assigned as a scout coming up behind the adjutant.
“Yes, sir,” Cooke affined.
Reno reached up a hand and touched his forehead. It was blazing hot under the sun and his fingers were drenched with · Sweat. He ran his tongue across his lips. “But what is the · plan?”
Cooke was startled by the question. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t understand the plan,” Reno replied.
“You are to move up the valley and attack the hostiles,” Cooke said. “The general will support you as needed.”
“As needed?”
Custer was waving his hand. Indicating for Cooke to come · back. Custer’s five companies were already moving. Reno shook his head, trying to clear the fog he felt descending through it, slowing his thoughts and muddying them. Cooke turned and started to ride away.
“Just make sure I get the support!” Reno called out. Cooke raised a hand, indicating he heard. At least that’s what Reno thought.
Bouyer rode and half touched his right hand to his forehead in a form of salute. “Major:”
“What exactly does the general want me to do?” Reno demanded.
Bouyer dropped the hand. “He didn’t tell me his orders. Sir, other than to link up with you.”
Reno shook his head. “It makes no sense. The hostiles will be in the valley along the river. Why is Custer riding in the hills?”
In response, Bouyer reached into a large sack tied off to his pommel and pulled out a leather satchel. He extended it toward Reno. “Here you go, sir.”
Reno didn’t take it “What the hell is this?”
“A talisman.”
“A what?”
“Strong medicine.” Bouyer still had his arms outstretched.
Custer was gesturing toward Reno, mouthing something. The major had no doubt that whatever the general was saying, it wasn’t pleasant He grabbed the satchel and looped the leather tie over the hook holding his map case near the left rear of the saddle. There was no time for this nonsense.