Читать книгу Defending General Custer's Legacy: Complete Illustrated Trilogy - Elizabeth Bacon Custer - Страница 33

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I wish that I could recall more about the curious characters among us. Most of them had some strange history in the States that had been the cause of their seeking the wild life of the frontier. The one whose past we would have liked best to know was a man most valued by my husband. All the important scoutings and most difficult missions where secrecy was required were intrusted to him. We had no certain knowledge whether or not he had any family or friends elsewhere, for he never spoke of them. He acknowledged once, in a brief moment of confidence, that he was a gentleman by birth. Startled, perhaps, by the look of curiosity that even a friend’s face showed, he turned the conversation, and said, “Oh, but what’s the use to refer to it now?” We did not even know whether Charley Reynolds was his real name or one that he had assumed. Soon after we reached Dakota the general began to employ him as a scout. He remained with him much of the time, until he fell in the battle of the Little Big Horn. My husband had such genuine admiration for him that I soon learned to listen to everything pertaining to his life with marked interest. He was so shy that he hardly raised his eyes when I extended my hand at the general’s introduction. He did not assume the picturesque dress, long hair, and belt full of weapons that are characteristic of the scout. His manner was perfectly simple and straightforward, and he could not be induced to talk of himself. He had large, dark-blue eyes, and a frank face. Year after year he braved the awful winters of Dakota alone. I have known him start out from Fort Lincoln when even our officers, accustomed as they were to hardships, were forbidden to go. He had been the best shot and most successful hunter in the territory for fifteen years. When I watched the scouts starting off on their missions, I invariably thanked Heaven that I was born a woman, and consequently no deed of valor would ever be expected from me. I felt, though, that were I compelled to be brave, I would far rather go into battle with the inspiration of the trumpet-call and the clash of arms, than go off alone and take my life in my hands as did the scouts.

The year that the regiment explored the Black Hills, Charley Reynolds undertook to carry despatches through to Fort Laramie, over one hundred and fifty miles distant. He had only his compass to guide him, for there was not even a trail. The country was infested with Indians, and he could only travel at night. During the day he hid his horse as well as he could in the underbrush, and lay down in the long grass. In spite of these precautions he was sometimes so exposed that he could hear the voices of Indians passing near. He often crossed Indian trails on his journey. The last nights of his march he was compelled to walk, as his horse was exhausted, and he found no water for hours. The frontiersmen frequently dig in the beds of dried-up streams and find water, but this resource failed. His lips became so parched and his throat so swollen that he could not close his mouth. In this condition he reached Fort Laramie and delivered his despatches. It was from the people of that post that the general heard of his narrow escape. He came quietly back to his post at Fort Lincoln, and only confessed to his dangers when closely questioned by the general long afterwards. When I think how gloriously he fell, fighting for his country, with all the valor and fidelity of one of her officers, my eyes fill with tears; for he lies there on that battle-field, unwept, unhonored, and unsung. Had he worn all the insignia of the high rank and the decorations of an adoring country, he could not have led a braver life or died a more heroic death; and yet he is chronicled as “only a scout.”

We were inundated with excursionists during the summer. In order to induce immigration the railroads had reduced the rates. One of the incidents of the trip was to cross from Bismarck to Fort Lincoln. Sometimes I had assistance in entertaining, but oftener I was left to perform this duty alone. I have been sitting with the general and four of his family, when we would see the post-ambulance unloading at the door. In an instant I would find myself standing alone in the room, the vanishing forms of all the family disappearing through the doors, and even out of the windows opening upon the piazza. In vain I entreated them to return; a smothered laugh at my indignation was all the response.

It was sometimes tiresome to receive large groups of people, who wanted to know impossible things about the country, and if it was a good soil for wheat. I only remember one party who taxed my patience to the uttermost. They cared nothing about Dakota as an agricultural territory, but had come on purpose to see the general. To satisfy them, I sent the servants and orderly to find him, but all returned with the same answer—he was nowhere to be seen. I walked about the garrison with them, explaining our post as best I could; the band came to play for them; and finally, as a last resort, I opened the general’s room to show them his hunting mementos. It was all of no avail. One very decided woman said, “This is all very interesting, but we came to see General Custer, and we do not intend to leave until we do.” Finally I said, in desperation, he is much interested in improvements for the post, and spends much time out-of-doors. “Very well,” said the chief spokesman, “we will go all around the garrison and try to find him.” As soon as I had bowed them away, I ran out to Mary to ask where the general really was. I had known from the first, by a twinkle in her eye, that she was helping him to escape. “Law, Miss Libbie, the giniral most got sunstroke hidin’ in the chicken-coop.” The coop was still unroofed, and my husband had been superintending the building of a double wall to keep out the cold in winter; and there I found him, really ill, having beaten his hasty retreat without a hat, and remained in the broiling sun rather than submit to the odious ordeal of being on exhibition.

Our house was so full of company, and we had so little time for each other, that in order to visit together we were obliged to take our horses, and ride up and down the valley as far as it was safe to go. Even then my husband’s eyes scanned the horizon so searchingly, hardly turning his face away from where the Indians were wont to dash, that it intimidated me to see such watchfulness. If we went even a few paces beyond our usual beat, which was bounded by the grazing stock and the guard, and the busy chatter at his side ceased, my husband would look quickly to see the cause of the unusual silence. My lip quivered with fear, and I was wont to wink busily and swallow to keep back a tear of terror, of which I was always ashamed, and against which I made constant battle. The moment our horses’ heads were turned towards home the endless flow of laughter and talk began again. When we could not ride, we went out on the bluffs, just on the edge of the garrison, for an uninterrupted hour. We were often out for hours, my husband shooting at a mark, while I was equally busy taking accurate aim at the ever-present mosquito, our constant companion in all our good times.

As the soldiers and citizens all knew the general’s love of pets, we had constant presents. Many of them I would have gladly declined, but notwithstanding a badger, porcupine, raccoon, prairie-dog, and wild-turkey, all served their brief time as members of our family. They were comparatively harmless, and I had only the inconvenience to encounter. When a ferocious wild-cat was brought in, with a triumphant air, by the donor, and presented with a great flourish, I was inclined to mutiny. My husband made allowance for my dread of the untamed creature, and decided to send him into the States, as a present to one of the zoological gardens; for in its way it was a treasure. While it remained with us it was kept in the cellar. Mary used to make many retreats, tumbling up the stairs, when the cat flew at her the length of its chain. She was startled so often that at last she joined with me in requesting its removal as soon as convenient. The general regretted giving it up, but Keevan was called to chloroform and box it for the journey. Colonel Tom printed some facetious words on the slats of the cover—something like “Do not fondle.” They were somewhat superfluous, for no one could approach the box, after the effects of the chloroform had passed away, without encountering the fiery-red eyes, and such scratchings and spittings and mad plunges as suggested the propriety of keeping one’s distance. Some detention kept the freight-train at a station over Sunday; the box with the wild-cat was put in the baggage-room. The violence of the animal as it leaped and tore at the cover loosened the slats, and it escaped into the room. The freight agent spent a wretched day! Chloroform was again resorted to, and it was deemed a good riddance when the animal was sent off. When we received a letter of thanks from the Scientific Board for so splendid a specimen, I was relieved to know that the wild-cat was at last where it could no longer create a reign of terror.

At one time the general tamed a tiny field-mouse, and kept it in a large, empty inkstand on his desk. It grew very fond of him, and ran over his head and shoulders, and even through his hair. Women are not responsible for their fear of mice; they are born so. I had fortunately only to keep away from the desk when the little creature was free, for it was contented to consider that its domain. The general, thinking at last that it was cruel to detain the little thing in-doors when it belonged by nature to the fields, took it out and left it on the plain. The kindness was of no earthly use; like the oft-quoted prisoner of the Bastile, it was back again at the steps in no time, and preferred captivity to freedom.