On the plains with Custer

Front matter

THE LIBRARY

OF

LOS ANGELES

Foreword

THIS is a story of Ned Fletcher, and the Seventh Regular Cavalry, United States Army, when upon the Western plains they followed the yellow-haired General Custer. Yet it is not all a story of fighting; for to be a good soldier does not mean that one must serve only to fight. Indeed, there are worthy battles other than those with lead and steel, horse and foot. Every earnest citizen is a good soldier. General Custer was as great in peace as in war; in his home as in the field, and he loved his home duties as much as he loved his other duties, which is token of a true man.

General Custer is real to-day. Men and women live who marched with him. As to Ned Fletcher, who may say? A little girl named Fletcher was captured by Cheyennes and Sioux, as Ned's sister was captured ; and Chief Cut Nose called her " Little Silver Hair." General Custer would have rescued her, as official records show. Two little children were found in the Cheyenne village on the Washita. In the battle here a bugler boy was wounded just as Ned was wounded. Aye, and at Fort Wallace a little bugler boy was slain. So that boys served in the old Seventh Cavalry, under General Custer. As a brave boy, Ned might have been there, even though by a different name.

FOREWORD

General Custer has left his own story of his plains days in Kansas and Nebraska. It lies before me. Mrs. Custer, his comrade of garrison and camp and march, has written several books about him. They lie before me. There is a biography by one Captain Whittaker, written at the close of the last battle, near forty years ago. With General Sheridan and General Custer upon their campaign against the Cheyennes and the Kiowas was a newspaper reporter, Randolph Keim, who also wrote a book. Chapters have there been, in other books and in magazines, and pamphlets of time agone ; and, as I say, men and women are now alive who knew the general. From all these more information should be sought. No one pen can de scribe so fine a thing as a Man.

So this book must tell of the Custer whom Ned the boy and youth saw; and of affairs in which he took part during that final struggle when the white race would supplant the red race, on the plains of north and south. In the narrative of these years I have tried to show how the white race felt and how the red race felt; for each had their rights and their wrongs, and each did right and did wrong. Out of the result came general good, that the church and the school-house might rise and people might work and play in peace, where formerly stood only the unpro ductive hide lodges, and the main thought was war and

Plunder- EDWIN L. SABIN.

Coronado, California, June 1,1913.

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I. A WAIF ON THE PRAIRIE 17

II. AT OLD FORT RILEY 34

II

EARLY came a lancer, bearing the swallow- forked guidon, his steed blown and wet. The soldiers gathered about him.

Foremost of the riders was a man not a soldier; at least, he looked more like a handsome, gentle manly desperado. He sat easy and lithe and broad-shouldered; from under his wide-brimmed black hat, fell down upon the shoulders long, curling light hair. Belted about his waist was a pair of ivory-handled revolvers, one at either thigh. He wore shiny, flexible boots reaching to the knee ; tight-fitting white doe-skin riding-breeches; a fine blue-flannel shirt open at the throat, and trimmed down the front with red ; around his throat was loosely knotted a blue silk handkerchief; upon his hands were well-fringed gauntlet gloves. His skin was fair, with just a touch of sun-brown ; a long blonde moustache drooped along either side of a firm clean chin ; his nose was a bold hawk nose, and as piercing as the eyes of a hawk were his eyes of steely blue. Altogether, he seemed a man to be reckoned with.

" Well, Bill," addressed the general, buoyantly, " I didn't mean to desert you fellows, but I needed exercise."

" I see," nodded Bill, gravely. His keen, steely eyes noted the buffalo tongue; they read every detail of Ned's face and figure; and swiftly sweeping the horizon they returned to him.

" Killed a big bull and found a small boy," con tinued the general. " Ned, this gentleman is Mr. James B. Hickok, better known as Wild Bill. He's a valuable friend to have."

Mr. Hickok reined forward his horse, and offered Ned his hand.

" How do you do ? " he spoke, politely. His voice was soft, but vibrant, and Ned liked him. " Count me at your service."

Ned was certain that Mr. Hickok was not making fun of him; and, abashed, he shook hands. Where upon Mr. Hickok gracefully reined his horse back to the general.

All the soldiers had arrived. " By their blanketrolls and haversacks, they must be on a scout," thought Ned, " and not merely on a hunt." Among the last to arrive was another young officer — a captain, said the double bars of his shoulder-straps.

"All right, Hamilton. Now that you've shown us you're safe, we'll go on," called the general, still in joking frame of mind. That he had distanced all his company and had an adventure pleased him immensely.

With quick gesture he waved his hand, and accom panied by Mr. Hickok trotted to the fore. Captain Hamilton escorted at one side of the column, as two by two the soldiery strung out. Behind the general rode the lance-corporal, and Bugler Odell, Ned holding tightly to him. Now and then Bugler Odell let in formation drift over Ned's shoulder.

" That be Wild Bill," he said, speaking guardedly. " 'Tis the name he likes best. He's chief scout for the general, and peace-keeper all 'round, for he's boss o' Riley, I tell ye. Six-foot two he stands in his socks ; ye can span his waist with your hands. Quickest shot with the pistol I ever saw; chain lightnin* can't beat him. But you wouldn't think he was such a tarrer, to speak with him. And when he's mad he doesn't talk much louder or say much more ; yet you bet wan word and wan look from him be plinty to make the worst badman on the trail calm down and say, ' Certainly, Bill. Excuse me, Mr. Hickok.' He served in the Kan sas troubles before the War, when the free-soil men and the slavery men were makin' the border a red-hot place. He was a Union scout out here durin' the War, too, and fought at the battle o' Pea Ridge down in Arkansas. Wan time, in Sixty-wan, alone in a room he was attacked by ten border-ruffians, hand to hand, and when it was over they were all dead and he was 'most dead with eleven buckshot in him and thirteen other wounds."

" Is he a soldier now ? " queried Ned, awed.

" Nope ; not what you might call a reg'lar soldier. He's a border-man — a frontiersman. Some might call him a disperado, behind his back ; and some a gambler ; but anyway, he's got the bravery and the nerve, and his word is good as gold, and that's the kind o' men needed out in this country."

They rode on, while Ned pondered over the char acter of the terrible Wild Bill Hickok. He had ap peared as such a mildly speaking, gentlemanly indi vidual, that Bugler Odell's description did not seem to fit.

" The Sivinth Cavalry be gettin' its share o' good men," resumed Bugler Odell, confidentially. " Yon captain — he's a foine wan, and a great joker. Captain Hamilton, I mean. Sure, he's a lieutenant-colonel, from the War; but he ranks as captain o' Reg'lars, by appointment to the Sivinth. His grandfather was a big man by the name o' Alexander Hamilton. Ah, the Sivinth be officered entirely by generals and colonels and majors ; and titles be so thick they make your head swim. I'm only plain sergeant, but some o' the enlisted men be generals, by courtesy, as ye'll find out."

" Right you are," agreed the lance-corporal. " The War left many a man with soldierin' as his only job."

Wild Bill was an accurate scout, for as the sun was setting they all sighted directly ahead, high upon a table-land backed by hills, an irregular group of build ings, the windows flashing above the level dun ex panse below. Between were trees, marking a stream.

" There's Riley," announced Bugler Odell, pointing. " Below is the Smoky Hill Fork o' the Republican, and the line o' cottonwoods runnin' to north'ard be the Republican itself. The post sits in the elbow o' the two, where they join and make the Kaw or Kansas."

As they approached Ned gazed curiously. The post made quite a showing, and everybody in the column seemed glad to be getting back. Now the flag-staff of the post, with the colors still floating, showed clearly. The general stirred restlessly in his saddle, as if eager to shorten the distance. The dogs, which had been ranging far and wide, galloped further ahead, and further, anon halting to look hopefully behind them and see that the column were surely com ing on.

Suddenly across the rosy-purple glow making lovely the flat landscape, wafted high and sweet the notes of a bugle at the post. All the column listened — or appeared to listen.

" 'Tis retreat ; boom goes the avenin' gun and down comes the flag," explained Bugler Odell, as if Ned did not know.

But Ned did know, and he nodded to himself ; for this was one of the army calls taught him by his father.

The long notes died amidst a dull " Boom ! " by the evening gun ; and Ned saw the flag slide down the tall pole.

" Faith, we'll be locked out," chuckled Odell, as a joke. "The general won't like that; he's wantin' to be home with his wife."

" Sound the trot," bade the general, curtly, with out turning head.

Bugler Odell did so; and through the clattering column rang the brisk voice of young Captain Hamil ton : " Trot — march ! " Away they trotted, all, can teens jingling, carbines jolting, saddles creaking, horses grunting. Close before was the sparse timber of the Republican River, flowing from the north; this river they evidently must cross, as the post was upon the other side.

" Give them Garryowen, Hamilton," called the general. And he added, aside : " Then they'll have supper hot."

Captain Hamilton nodded at Bugler Odell ; and now as the column was splashing into the ford Odell blew a lively lilt. It was one of the merriest, most stirring tunes that Ned ever had heard, and he resolved to learn it. It put life into the wh*ole column.

" That's a new wan to ye, I'll wager," remarked Odell, having paused as for breath. " 'Tis an Irish song that the general likes, and it's the march o* the Sivinth Cavalry."

The post was above the opposite bank. It stood forth clear in the crisp air, and among the buildings Ned could see figures scurrying to and fro. Some of them were women. Away sped the dogs, floundering through the shallows, and scrambling up the ascent, racing for supper. Next out scrambled the horses, climbing the steep, beaten trail that led from the river bed to the flat plateau above ; and at trot the returning column soon rode into the army post of old Fort Riley.

Bleak it was; composed of bare but substantial barracks and officers' quarters, two stories high, of whitish stone laid in plaster. These buildings, lined with verandas, faced inward, forming a broken square. Outside the square were several other buildings, of stone and boards — being, as Ned was soon told, the store-houses and stables.

As soon as the column halted, the general nimbly dismounted, and leaving his horse for his orderly and the dismissal of the column for Captain Hamilton, he made straight for two women who were standing expectantly awaiting him, and overwhelmed by the barking dogs.

One he kissed gladly, while to the other he gave his free hand.

" Here we are, Libbie," Ned heard him say. " Ready for Lizzie's best. I've brought her a buffalo tongue — a big one. And a recruit, too." With his arm about the woman's shoulders he beckoned to Ned. "Oh, Ned! Come here."

Ned went slowly forward. He was ashamed of his rags.

The woman whom the general was treating so affectionately was small and dark-eyed and sweet; the other woman was a pretty girl, plump and roguish and very curly-headed, with a profusion of dancing golden hair. She was smiling across at Captain Hamilton, who now had dismissed the column.

" Ned, one of these ladies is my wife Mrs. Custer, and the other is our guest, Miss Diana," informed the general, a twinkle in his blue eyes. " You can guess which is which. I picked Ned up on the prairie, at the same time I got the buffalo — and when the buffalo was about to get him," he explained, to the twain. " He wants to be a soldier, and I think we'll make a bugler of him. What do you think ?"

" Oh, you poor boy ! " exclaimed the dark-eyed little woman, holding to Ned both her hands, while Miss Diana smiled brightly upon him. " Is he lost, Autie ? "

" Same old story," answered the general, soberly. "A waif from another Indian raid. I'll tell you about it. But he'll stay with us, and we're going to find his sister for him. She's all that's left — somewhere out among the tribes."

" Oh ! " gasped both women.

" He can come right along with us, can't he ? " queried Mrs. Custer. " He must be hungry and he ought to have some clothes."

" N-no, he'd better stay with Odell," decided the general. " I'll have the quartermaster outfit him. He must mess with the other men. He's to be en listed as a bugler."

Old Fort Riley proved a bustling place. It had been located in the fall of 1852, and rebuilt in 1855 to afford protection to the settlers who were passing west ward up along the Kansas River Valley. Before it was christened in honor of General Bennet C. Riley it had been called Camp Center, because it was supposed to be the geographical center of the United States. Now it was rapidly filling up with the recruits for the new Seventh United States Cavalry. Many other people also were flocking through by ox-team, mule and horse. The rails of the westward creeping Kansas Pacific branch of the Union Pacific Railroad had approached, to continue on and on, to Denver.

The post was upon a broad table-land high above the rivers, without a tree or a shrub, where the wind always blew. The Republican River, flowing down from the northward, and the Smoky Hill, flowing in from the westward, joined currents ; and below the fort rolled eastward the noble Kansas River, in a beautiful valley dotted with settlers' farms and threaded by the new Kansas Pacific Railroad. Westward from the fort could be seen other farms, along the Smoky Hill, and the town of Junction City.

Despite the bareness and the windiness (which were nothing strange to Ned, who had lived on the

Colorado plains) Fort Riley had its charms. The air was fresh, the view was wide, and with the many soldiers and the frequent arrivals by stage and by horse or wagon, things were constantly happening.

In fact, wherever the general chanced to be, some thing was bound to happen. He made matters lively — especially when he was off duty. He and Mrs. Custer were great chums; and, next to her, he liked horses and dogs — but which the better, it was hard to say. He had a complete pack of dogs: fox hounds (the old one called Rover) from Texas, where he had been stationed after the war; a pair of deer-hounds, one of whom was named Byron; Fannie a fox terrier; stag-hound puppies, Maida and Blucher ; and a bow-legged white bull-dog named Turk, who was the deadly rival of Byron. He had three horses, splendid ones, named for army friends; Jack Rucker was a thoroughbred mare from Texas; Phil Sheridan was a blooded colt from Virginia; and Custis Lee, a pacing horse, very fast, was ridden usually by Mrs. Custer.

The post headquarters, where lived the general and •family, was the best of the double two-story stone houses about the parade-ground. It frequently echoed with song and laughter and merry cries, and the general's hunting-horn. The household was composed of the general and Mrs. Custer, Lizzie the faith ful black cook, who had been with the general in the South through the War, and a little negro boy who wanted to be a jockey. Then of course there were the dogs. In the other half of the house lived Major Alfred Gibbs and family. Major Gibbs was a portly, carefully-dressed man, who had been a soldier since 1846. He ranked next to General Custer.

In his house the general was the same rollicking, active spirit that he was when ahorse; on duty at the post or afield, and mingling with the soldiers, he acted the strict officer. He might joke with the other officers, but all the men understood that he was the chief, and that he would brook no intrusion upon his military dignity. Thus, although they called him (out of his hearing) the " old man/' and " old Jack " (because of the initials G. A. C., for George Armstrong Custer, on his baggage), they saluted promptly, and obeyed instantly, and tried no jokes on him!

Through the long winter officers, recruits and horses were arriving almost daily at Fort Riley, to bring up the Seventh Cavalry roll. Ned grew to know them all. The yellow-haired, boyish General Custer remained in command; for although he ranked as lieutenant-colonel, his superior officer of the regiment, Colonel Andrew Jackson Smith, a major-general and a veteran, who dated back to 1838, was kept on duty elsewhere. Therefore " old Jack " held the reins at the post — and the soldiers were speedily brought to know it.

Of the younger officers Ned liked especially his Captain, Louis M. Hamilton — who was also a lieu-

AT OLD FORT RHEY

tenant-colonel; First Lieutenant Tom Custer, the general's light-hearted younger brother, a lieutenant-colonel who had enlisted in the war at sixteen and wore two medals for enemy's flags captured ; Captain Myles Keogh, who had served the Pope as well as in the Army of the Potomac; Lieutenant Myles Moylan the adjutant; and the young second lieutenants who were called " shave-tails " and " tad-poles " and " plebes."

Wild Bill, the frontiersman scout, was at the post frequently, passing up and down, by horse or stage, along the trail west. He was as particular in his dress as was old Major Gibbs; everything that he wore was of the finest material, from the ruffle-pleated soft white shirt and broad-cloth in Junction City to the blue flannel shirt and riding-breeches on the trail. No matter how dressed, he was always the same quiet, courteous personage — but he never was seen without the two ivory-handled revolvers ready at his hips. Report said that he could shoot to the centre without sighting; and could shoot backward over his shoulder or under his arm, with an equal deadliness.

All the winter the soldiers were steadily drilled, and put under constant discipline. " Whipped into shape," said Bugler Odell. Some men complained, and some deserted; but the better men realized that the strict training was necessary.

Bugles were ringing from early till late. Two buglers were attached to each company. Ned found himself assigned to the company of Captain Hamilton, and he was glad of that. Now he wore the bugler's uniform, which had narrow double strips of yellow down the trousers, and yellow braid across the chest. It really was a uniform equal to that of any officer; but

"All stripes and no authority," with a laugh de clared Odell, who was chief bugler. " That's what they say o' the trumpeter."

The winter passed without any Indian fights, but with the Seventh Cavalry getting ready. The rail road trains arrived, and excursionists were more plenti ful than ever : some wanted to hunt buffalo and some wanted to see Indians, and some wanted to look for land. Rumors reported that the Cheyennes and the Sioux and the Arapahos to the westward were not keeping their promises; and that this spring they would oppose the further advance of the railroad through their hunting grounds. The settlers of western Kansas were becoming alarmed again. The Seventh Cavalry must protect them, and the Smoky Hill stage and emigrant route to Denver, and the railroad survey.

Soon was it known that as quick as the spring opened the Seventh Cavalry would take the field. By this time Ned, under the teaching of Chief Bugler Odell, was a thorough trumpeter. Reveille, sick call, mess call, stables, boots and saddles, the assembly, drill, fire, trot, charge, tattoo, taps — he knew them all.

He had learned "The Girl I Left Behind Me"; and he had learned " Garryowen "

" Our hearts so stout have got us fame, For soon 'tis known from whence we came, Where'er we go they dread the name Of Garryowen in glory."

That inspiring tune to which had charged the Custer Third Brigade in the War, and which was now adopted by the Seventh Cavalry.

So, having been by Odell pronounced a " credit to the regiment," Ned felt himself a soldier and ready with the other soldiers.

" IT'S like this," said Odell, after mess. " We're bound to go. Those 'Rapahos and Cheyennes and Kiowas and 'Paches and Sioux out yon are ready to act mean again, and the army'll have to calm 'em down. By their treaty o' Sixty-foive didn't they promise to keep away from the overland trails, and not camp by day or by night within ten miles o* any of 'em, or visit any white settlement without permis sion beforehand? And what did they do? Only last summer they went on their murtherin' raids, time after time, and the treaty not a year old yet. Didn't they kill and rob right and lift through the settlements o' the Saline and the Solomon, jist west o' here, drivin' the farmers out? And haven't they been botherin* the stage road up along the Smoky, and the south west travel by the Santy Fee Trail, and threatenin' the railroad advance ? "

" They blame it on old Cut Nose and Pawnee Killer's band of Dog Soldiers," spoke somebody. " Those Dog Soldiers weren't there to sign the treaty, and they say they aren't bound by it."

" Who are those Dog Soldiers, except the worst rascals out of all the tribes ? " grunted Sergeant Henderson, who had fought Indians before the Sixties. " I know 'em."

" Well, this country belonged to the Indians, first, didn't it?" pursued a recruit. "We're crossing it without asking * by your leave,' and we're settling in the midst of it and taking all we can get. I hear buffalo are scarcer than they used to be, too, since the whites opened up the country. That's what the Indians de pend on for a living — the buffalo."

" Ah, now, mebbe you're right, and I think myself the Injuns are treated a bit shabbily, at times," re sponded Odell. " There are rascals on both sides. But what would ye do? Save back all this western country jist for the Injun to hunt on? Wan Injun needs about ten square mile o' territory, and he laves it the same as he found jt. The white man takes a half square mile — yes, and much less — and he stays with it and improves it; and twinty white men and their families can live in the space required by wan Injun jist for huntin' whilst the women do the work."

" As long as there's a trail unfenced, when the grass greens in the spring and the willow and cottonwood buds swell, the Injun — and specially the young Injun — will grow uneasy," quoth Sergeant Hender son. " Spring is war time, summer is visiting time, fall is hunt time. In winter the Injuns are glad to have the Government take care of 'em. We're pushing

4 49 two railroads through, whites are getting thicker, Injuns are being bossed by the Government and cheated by traders and crowded by settlers, and they see nothin' for 'em but to clean the country out — if they can."

Wild Bill had ridden at canter into the parade ground, and across to headquarters. At the veranda of the general's house he pulled short, and swung to ground, as if he had been sent for. Then he entered.

When he came out, presently, he was riding away in a great hurry, when the sergeant hailed him, passing.

"What's the news, Bill?"

" Sharpen your sabres," spoke Wild Bill, briefly, without drawing rein.

He rode on, and turned into the stage road which led west, up the Smoky Hill River. Evidently he was carrying dispatches to Forts Harker and Hays, the new Seventh Cavalry posts that were guarding the further advance of the Kansas Pacific.

Wild Bill had spoken to the point, as always. He wasted no words. Before the afternoon drill, there had spread through the post like wildfire the word that the Seventh Cavalry must be prepared to take the field, equipped for service, within a fortnight.

This was great news. Old Fort Riley seethed with it. Now in these the days of early March there was a sudden increase of mounted drills long and hard; an effort at target practice with the stubby Spencer re peating carbines — proving that most of the men shot no better than they rode; shoeing of horses and tinker ing of wagons at the fort smithy; and grinding of sabers on the post grind-stones.

Passing a grind-stone Ned noticed private Malloy busily engaged in applying the edge of an unusually long sabre. Malloy was the " striker " or officer's handy-man on duty at the general's house. He looked up at Ned, and, wiping the perspiration from his brow, grinned. So did the soldier who was turning for him.

" Do you recognize the big toad-sticker ? " queried Malloy.

Ned doubtfully shook his head. Malloy obligingly handed it to him.

" Look at it an' heft it. It's the general's. Thought mebbe you'd seen it hanging on his wall. 'Tis one captured in the War; an' the noise of the grinding sort o' reminded him he wanted it whetted up. ' Malloy/ said he, * polish that big scalping knife o' mine along with the rest of 'em.' '

" Can you swing it ? " bantered the other soldier.

Ned lifted the sabre and examined it. It was as long as he was tall ; was far longer and heavier than regulation. On the bright blade were letters engraved :

Do not draw me without cause; Do not sheathe me without honor.

What a sword ! No, Ned could not swing it. He handed it back.

" That's a real Damascus steel, they say," in formed Malloy's helper.

" Is the general going to take it on the march?" asked Ned, expectantly.

" No, I reckon not," answered Malloy ; " but he would if he wanted to, I'll wager — just as he wears his hair long an' his tie red. He's a great man for having his own way, is old Jack."

" Headstrong, you might call him," added the other man. " Like chasin' a buffalo, alone and 'way off from his command, an' not knowin' but that Injuns are right over the next ridge."

The yellow hair and quick voice of the general were everywhere, as with prompt eyes and mind he oversaw the post preparations. For now was it known that this was to be an important march, wherever it led; with infantry and artillery as well as cavalry, and with Major-General Winfield Scott Hancock him self accompanying. The purpose, it seemed, was to have a talk with the Indians, and to show them that the United States was ready with soldiers to protect the white people on the plains.

General Hancock was the commander of the Military Department of the Missouri. His head quarters were Fort Leavenworth, on the Missouri River at the eastern border of Kansas. From Fort Leavenworth were coming the artillery and most of the infantry. In all there would be about 1400 men, thought Odell.

The expedition gave to Fort Riley a war-like appearance. First the scouts began to collect. Wild Bill was there anyway; and came in, among others, a young scout named Cody — Bill Cody. He had been at Riley, off and on, before. With his flowing dark hair, his wide black eyes, his silky moustache and goatee and his buckskins and weapons, he looked indeed en titled to considerable respect.

" Do you know that man ? " had asked Odell, of Ned.

" He's a good wan. He's Pony Express Bill. That's what they used to call him. Was the youngest pony express rider on the line. Faith, he rode when he wasn't any older than you, my lad, carryin' the mail across the plains. Now he ranks up with Wild Bill and the rist o' the scouts. And they do say he's the best buffalo hunter, white or red, west o* Leavenworth."