A Man Called Sunday Read Free Page B

somebody shoulda been sent to recover their bodies before them savages cut ’em to pieces.”
    His comment brought forth a few grumbles from those gathered about the small fire and caused one of them to ask a question. “Has anybody seen Foster?”
    No one had. “He was with me and Thompson when we set fire to those two tipis at the edge of the camp, and he went to help Bob Rivers after he got shot,” one of the men said. “Bob got shot twice in the leg, and couldn’t walk.” He paused for a moment as if trying to recall. “I didn’t see either one of ’em after that.” As an excuse, he offered, “Them Injuns up on the ridge got the range about then and started pepperin’ us pretty hot. There wasn’t no time to think about anythin’ but gettin’ the hell outta there.”
    Genuinely concerned at this point, the corporal said, “I need to find out if they got back all right.” He got to his feet and went to seek out Captain Egan.
    Egan was equally concerned when informed that two of his men might have been left behind. After a quick investigation, it was confirmed that that was the case, so the captain went directly to advise Colonel Reynolds. As it turned out, the colonel had already been confronted with reports that his quick withdrawal had caused the abandonment of three of his dead. “That is bad news, indeed,” Reynolds said to Egan in weary reply. “But there is little we can do about it at this late point. I’m sorry to say that it is highly unlikely your two men have survived after this length of time.” When the captain started to protest, the colonel stopped him short, advising him that his supplies and ammunition were already low, and he had had orders to withdraw to Lodge Pole Creek to rendezvous with General Crook. “What’s done is done,” he said.
    Luke listened when the captain returned to tell the skinny corporal that there was nothing that could be done to learn the fate of Foster and Rivers. The news was not well received by the small group of soldiers gathered about the fire, with some faintly subdued grumbling about the responsibility of their officers to recover the wounded and dead after every battle. The Indians’ penchant for mutilating the bodies of their enemies was well known among the troopers. “I don’t like it, either,” Captain Egan told them, “but we were ordered to move on.”
    â€œI reckon I could go back and see if I can find out what happened to your two men,” Luke volunteered. His announcement brought forth looks of surprise on the faces of those gathered around the fire. He had made no comment up to that point.
    â€œThat might not be such a good idea,” Egan said, “riding back into that swarm of Indians. The minute they see you, you’re a dead man.”
    â€œI don’t plan on lettin’ ’em see me,” Luke replied.
    Egan took a moment to study the scout’s face, wondering if the man was just plain crazy. “All right,” he finally said. “If that’s what you wanna do, I don’t see any reason to tell you no. But, mister, you’d best be damn careful, because nobody will be coming to help you. The column will be joining up with General Crook as soon as he shows up, and we’ll probably head back to Fort Fetterman.”
    Luke drained the last swallow of coffee from his cup and said, “Much obliged.” Then he asked the soldier who had last seen Foster exactly where he should look for the trooper named Rivers.
    He was told that Rivers had been wounded while the troop was pulling back from the lower end of the Cheyenne village. “There’s a deep gully about ten or twelve feet across, about forty yards shy of where that outmost tipi stood before we burned it. Rivers got hit when he was runnin’ along the edge of it.”
    â€œI’ll go take a look,” Luke said.