To Dream Anew Read Free Page A

it could happen to someone like Custer, it could happen to anyone.
    “I have to believe that if they’d been prepared, this would never have happened.” Zane tried hard to sound convincing. The truth of the matter was, he wasn’t that certain of his words. The territory around them was wild—untamed and unsettled. The Sioux, Crow, and Cheyenne knew it better than the soldiers could hope to. That’s why they used Indian scouts. How could he convince this soldier of something he couldn’t completely come to terms with himself? “It’s a matter of preparation—of training,” Zane added softly.
    The man nodded. “I suppose the Indians are long gone now.”
    “The report indicates they’ve moved on down into the Big Horn Mountains.”
    “I suppose we’ll give chase.” The soldier looked at Zane, seemingly to pull the truth from him.
    “I cannot honestly say. I’ve not been given any orders except to make litters for the wounded and see them safely on their way to the steamer, Far West, up on the Big Horn River.”
    As the sun dipped below the horizon, Zane longed only for a bath and the ability to blot out all that he’d seen that day. The Sioux and Cheyenne had mutilated most of the dead, believing they were somehow denying their enemy wholeness for all eternity. The wounded were another story entirely. Their misery and fear seemed contagious. Zane longed for word from the couriers who’d gone out days before in search of the Far West . They were feared dead, but General Terry, the overall commander, held out hope that they would return, and because of this they were soon to move the wounded to safety.
    But could safety be found on Indian land? Every man among them wondered if another ambush awaited them upstream. Every noise, every crack or snap of a twig brought men to attention, guns in hand.
    For a long time Zane sat on the riverbank staring blankly at the water. It’s senseless, he thought. I figured to be a peacekeeper, not a killer. I believed it was right to serve, to give of myself to the country that had already given me so much .
    “I thought I was honorable.”
    But there had been no honor on the banks of the Marias when Major Baker had led the soldiers in a massacre of innocent Blackfoot Indians. There had been no honor when they’d turned the sick and wounded out into the snow and forty-below temperatures.
    Other images came to mind. Other encounters and campaigns. Other hurting, frightened people.
    It’s not worth it. I can’t make this right in my own mind… . How can I defend it to anyone else?
    All around him his men were eager to hunt down the Sioux and Cheyenne responsible for the Custer massacre. Men spoke the name Custer with the same reverence used for God. The man who had at one time been mocked by some and revered by others was now elevated to sainthood in the eyes of many. With every body buried and every new body found, the men saw nothing but the blood-haze of their anger.
    They wanted justice for their fallen leader and comrades.
    No, they wanted revenge.
    These thoughts haunted Zane throughout the next day and the day after that as the wounded were moved out. The irrepressible heat refused to abate. The high temperatures and searing sun made tempers flare and set the men against one another. At Times, Zane had found it necessary to break up fights, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be too hard on the men. They had seen sights such as no man should ever have to see. They had come here innocent in some ways—boys who were seeking adventure. They would never be innocent again.
    “Sir! Come quick. They’ll kill her for sure!” a young private called to Zane as he ran toward him.
    Zane jumped to his feet. “What is it? They’ll kill who?”
    The private gasped for breath. “We found … we found a squaw and papoose. She’s Sioux, and well, you know the boys ain’t feelin’ too friendly toward ’em right now. Especially ’cause the women were the ones doin’ most of