The Dying Grass, page 63
AND PERRY CONTEMPLATES THE MOUNTAINS
AUGUST 1
1
General, sir, we found another cache of Indian supplies down thataway.
Burn it.
Very good, sir.
My word! Look at all those Indian trails.
Yes, sir.
You heard him, soldier. Dig up that trash and touch fire, doublequick.
Yessir.
Hard and dark like camas but it must be meat—
’Course it is. Lemme smell it. O LORD, ain’t you ever seen dog meat?
How would you know?
How would I know? I was at the dog feast for Red Cloud we had back in Laramie. We could have poisoned a heap of savages then, except for that d——d Quaker policy.
Count on Doc to know it all. Looky, boys! He’s eatin’ it!
And you should, too. Gives you strength—
We’ll get there exhausted, and then Mr. Joe’ll be gone again.
They’ve gone to our right.
Yessir.
Mason, where were you ambushed?
Up thataway, general, right after the trees get high.
And your scout died on the spot?
No, sir, we carried him back a ways and buried him that night.
Commendable. Well, well, so this is Weippe:
bluebunch wheatgrass preening itself like a greenish-grey peacock,
camas,
buffalograss flattened down by the Indians and grazed down by the horses.
Yessir. See, Joseph burned down that ranch—
When this is over, the owner had better file a claim with the Government.— O, it’s Umatilla Jim! Well, soldier, what have you turned up?
General, I looked at that chart Lieutenant Wood showed me, and there’s a place by Oro Fino where I’ve seen ’em camp; it’s called Timí-map. I rode all the way out there. But no bad Indians in sight, not even Smohalla—
Timmy map. What is it?
General, in English it’s—
General Howard, sir, the artillery’s stuck.
How far back?
Only a quarter-mile, sir.
Jim, return to your duties. Now, Lieutenant Otis, what precisely do you mean by stuck?
Sir, the wagons—
Guy, see if you can extricate the lieutenant from his difficulties. That’s all. Beautiful country, isn’t it, Captain Whipple?
Yessir,
as some of our other good Indians,
James Reuben (his wrist-wound now bandaged in flannel), Old George, Captain John and Umatilla Jim,
now beginning to ride forward on scout, turn back to gaze at him, evidently in hope or expectation of some modification to their orders, and without knowing why he remembers two Edisto freedmen in faded, stinking rags torn at the knee, wide-eyed, their lips parted with silences coming out, their eyes fixed on him in hope and patience, asking for no more than to keep the places they have earned;
then our flankers find another of Joseph’s castoffs: the old horse’s nostrils pulsing feebly as if he understands
when one of Bomus’s bunch takes aim, to deny the Indians any benefit:
pim!
and Red O’Donnell,
who reigns over a thorough-brace mule wagon with platform springs,
sadly spits.
Perry, did you ever pass this way with General Crook?
No, general, but for all I know he’s hunted this far out.
Someday I’d like to bring Mrs. Howard to see this.
Yessir.
When the Pacific railroads shall be completed, this camas prairie will not be despised. These wicked Indians have loved these broad acres, which they have not been wise enough to cultivate.
Yessir.
Gonna bring that steam drill out on the job,
Gonna whap that steel on down—
Best hog wallow I ever did see. Won’t take long to root up all them camas bulbs.
Doc, you said there’d be blue flowers just like a lake.
Well, they’re all bloomed out.
Now they’ve shot down rioters in Reading. Sent out the artillery . . .
Shut up. We’ve got enough trouble right here.
Captain Pollock’s hoping we’ll spy color on this march.
He’s a hoper, all right.
Well, there’s a contact-metamorphic deposit up thataway. I can tell from the—
Well, does that mean gold or not?
Beats me.
Lieutenant Fletcher, sir, that Umatilla Jim has lassooed one of Joseph’s ponies. He wants to know, can he have two horses?
Tell him to shoot one, general’s orders.
Yessir.
Will he get sullen?
No, sir, he don’t never make trouble.
What’s going on, Fletch?
O, one of our scouts was getting greedy, general.
And you kept him in line, did you?
Yessir.
By the way, how do you rate Captain John?
O, he’s just an old bummer, sir. Wants to fill his belly at Government expense and maybe kill other Indians for sport. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has no daughter among Joseph’s bunch.
Who’s your favorite scout?
James Reuben, sir. A sincere Christian.
Good. Good. O, hello, Guy. Problem solved, I take it?
Well, father, Lieutenant Otis—
If it’s not solved, go back again,
while the officers poke around the Indians’ deserted camp, hoping for souvenirs:
ravens and bluejays rising up from a rotten charnel-hill of cow-guts and hides hacked wantonly, the uppermost of which reveals the Double T brand
and a dead dog thrown on top,
camas-baking pits left open like abandoned graves
—not even Doc finds anything good!—
then Wood gazes up the trail, wondering how far this war will call on us to ride, and who we will become once all this country belongs to us,
and what camas tastes like:
I should have tried it at Clearwater. Red Heart’s squaws would have given me a little.
2
Captain Whipple, take a walk with me.
Yessir.
I’ve heard that you were dissatisfied with Colonel Perry’s actions at Cottonwood.
From whom, sir?
That’s not to the point. You could be more charitable to a fellow officer.
Yessir.
Have you anything to say?
O, general, it was heartwrenching to see the reds massacring the Brave Seventeen and—
You thought him inactive, didn’t you? Well, he hasn’t complained about your failure to arrest Looking-Glass—
glancing at him with a cold sharpness which pierces Whipple’s prospects of getting along tranquilly through this campaign.
3
Just as a good soldier descends through the roof of a Modoc wickiup, with his rifle pointed down into darkness, Perry now recommences to explore the death of Theller, confident of discovering some foul terror or else nothing. I pray the LORD that Delia never learns how he used to recreate in Lewiston. Meanwhile I can’t help but wish I’d kept him better company there instead of worrying about what might have been beneath me or what my wife or the general could have found out. All the music in that one tent, and that Blackfoot squaw he was so crazy for . . . as soon as we’ve whipped Joseph and ride back to Lapwai, I aim to look her up and tell her, just to see if she flushes and how if at all her shining black eyes alter, when I tell her that he won’t be coming back, not that she could have pinned her hopes on a white man not to mention married although for all I know he never told her fuck about himself. Besides, she’s nothing but a GODd——d whore, probably clap-ripe and all that; it’s a wonder he never gave Delia anything, although come to think of it why could she never have children? That one time at Red O’Donnell’s he told me that she actually liked it a little too much, never satisfied, and it may be that that type of woman is the one that can’t conceive. During the Modoc campaign she miscarried, he told me. Well, if I’d been in his shoes I would never have rolled away from her for a two-bit Injun harlot, especially a Blackfoot, who except any Sioux must be just about the worst of the worst. But it was as if he had such high spirits that no one woman could have been enough. That must have been why Delia chose him in the first place; she’s a needing kind of woman, for a fact. How she adored him! Just brightened right up whenever he came riding home. He had that way with women and animals—always travelled with a lump of sugar for any contingency. Even Diamond liked him near about as well as me. My wife in spite of her come-hither hymn-singing voice was the only one never to cast a glance his way; she must have known something. Well, d——n her anyway. I should have known I’m not the marrying type. Last time after I had to take my belt to her, with my hand twisted good and tight in her hair so I could keep her face just deep enough in the pillow that she couldn’t scream but not so deep as to smother her, Theller must have seen something in my face because he made that remark about vengeful women which if it had originated in any other man’s mouth, even the general’s, I would have made sure his teeth came out afterwards, whereas with Theller I knew he only meant me kindness in his joking temporizing way just as I knew without his telling me that that Blackfoot bitch meant something to him, and in retrospect I can’t even name him any part of a fool. What should a man like him have done, and for that matter how’s a man like me supposed to live? If I ever become a general, will I be better off? Not that any such thing can happen after White Bird Cañon. If Bugler Jones hadn’t gotten himself killed and that other jackass had kept hold of his trumpet, I could have held control. And that shitty piss-ant Chapman, prancing around to-day so dandy on his grey, like he’s running for President, he and those no good volunteers, I hope the Nez Perces stuff their balls in their mouths so I don’t have to. In the Court of Inquiry I’ll prove it was Chapman who destroyed us. I told that sonofabitch to hold fire while we parleyed; we weren’t in any kind of skirmish line. He hasn’t once expressed regret. I’m going to get him. I’m going to break him down. Not for me. I should offer up a prayer for Theller, just in case it would do any good. I can’t see that it wouldn’t. And he would take it kindly if I gave that Blackfoot squaw a dollar or two, saying it was from him. That couldn’t hurt Delia, could it? I’ll bet she’s never going to marry again. Some folks would say that’s a sign of loyalty and strength; for the general it’s strength to say no to near about everything, but Theller said yes to Delia, yes to that whore and LORD knows how many others, yes to every fight and gambling game and daredevil ride not incompatible with honor and some other principle he never told me. The way his eyes were laughing with excitement when I ordered him forward, he, no, how could I have known it would be his death? When he rode ahead, it wouldn’t have been irrevocable but for Chapman, and those d——d trumpeters, but before we knew it the battle was lost. He must have thought I’d come back for him. I would have, if I’d known. Well, how was I to, with no communications left? At least he had the satisfaction of making a stand. I retreated. I had to, to save what was left. But how am I supposed to live with that? The Court of Inquiry has got to fix the blame on somebody. The general’s going to point to Joseph, which is d——d white of him and better than I deserve, but hardly to the point. And it’s not even like there’s anything I can say. Should I have sent those volunteers home when they started drinking that night on White Bird Hill? They’re the ones who insisted we had to halt Joseph before he crossed the Salmon, and they were right about that, because look what a chase he’s led us afterward; and moreover, those Mount Idaho men sure did know the country. So what should I have done? When Theller told off his squad and rode away, it still seemed all right even then,
down into the golden grass,
pim! pim! kíw!
his men reeling across their horses, groaning, bleeding, so that when we found them they were all wrecked up,
and that grin on his face when he waved to us made him look the way he did when he was up to some foolery in Lewiston, or the way he liked to talk like a gallant to my wife, just to tease her, while she wouldn’t have any of it! And then in the Modoc War, when he pretended to be smitten with that ugly old squaw, just to make us laugh, what a caution! And that prank he played on Captain Boyle, with that fool’s gold—
Better stop thinking about him. Here comes our Christian Soldier again. One thing I’ll say for him: Even one-armed he sure can ride a horse.
Colonel, I’m afraid we have a climb ahead of us.
Sure looks like it, sir. But Carlton’s bunch are making good progress up toward Lo Lo.
Who told you that?
I heard it from Chapman, general. And once Spurgin gets started—
Perry, Joseph is getting away.
Sir, we’re all real sorry.
He may already have reached Montana Territory.
Yessir,
looking up at the needles waving in the pine-crowns.
I expect more effort from our Indian scouts. Who’s proved himself so far?
None of ’em, sir, except maybe James Reuben, who I’d be the first to admit is a real good Indian. Kept right on after he was shot.
What about Jim?
Jim who, sir?
Umatilla Jim.
O, there’s a villain, general. One time Colonel Wright nearly hanged him.
For what?
He stole a sack of flour, sir.
O he did, did he?
Sure did, sir,
and he unfailingly puts me in mind of some nigger hiding in the water cart of a livery stable.
How are you holding up?
Rock solid, general. I could ride a thousand miles.
You’d better not have to! The citizens are tiring of this campaign, Perry. We must quickly bring Joseph to justice.
I sure agree with you there, general.
4
Lieutenant Howard, walk with me.
Yessir.
Guy, there’s something I would ask you.
Father, just say what you want me to do and it will be done.
I want you to try and be friends with Wood.
5
A fine excursion, Wood.
Sure is, general.
How does it compare with Alaska?
Not quite so grand as that, sir. But I admire this grand forest. It’ll be a treat to cross the Rockies!
Ride up here with me. Did you ever hear disagreeable rumors about Lieutenant Theller’s private life?
No, sir.
An appropriate reply for the comrade of a fallen officer! But you see, I mean to help Perry clear himself any way he can when he goes before the Court of Inquiry. And the Court will wish to find fault. If Theller happened to be, for instance, drunk, that would of course reflect badly on Perry, but perhaps not so badly as otherwise.
I know nothing about it, general.
Lieutenant Wood, return to your place in the column. I’ll see you presently.— He’s very loyal, wouldn’t you say, Wilkinson?
You could put it that way, sir,
at which the general knees his horse and rides a little forward, grimacing, so that Wilkinson wonders whether his pert remark has offended; in fact, upon the general has lately descended that common affliction of old men, a frequent need to urinate, even though there are times when hardly anything comes out; and it now ever more often happens that even when he empties his bladder five minutes before the move out, almost as soon as he has swung himself into the saddle the need to relieve himself returns; and once they commence the march, Arrow rocking beneath and against him, the sensation grows rapidly intolerable, and there is but one thing to do about it, namely, nothing, for he will not show weakness before his soldiers; he has begun to drink less coffee in the morning, and as a rule to reduce his consumption of liquids until they have planted the guidon for the night, but in the hot conditions of this Nez Perce campaign such abstemiousness could backfire; so the best solution, as with the throbbings of his arm-stump, is patience, which, thank GOD, he possesses more of year by year; although he might not be what he was in his best days, in every significant respect he must be counted wealthy in blessings, which to maintain the Army’s respect he must conceal, so he merely says:
Fletch, that mule yonder is staggering in the traces. Go find out how much weight he’s hauling. It had better not be more than a hundred twenty-five pounds.
6
Mr. Chapman, you look mighty pleased with yourself.
General, I love this here country.
And why on earth is that?
Because this is the best timbered region left in the U.S. Just reckon up all them trees at three dollars and ten dollars each—
This isn’t the U.S. yet.
Well, it will be general. You can bet on that.
I daresay you’re right.
Now whereabouts is Leeds, general? Ain’t that where your folks is from?
It’s around twenty miles west of Augusta. Some of us feel proud to dwell so near the capital of our State.
I never been out that far east, general. I—
That’s all, Chapman,
and then gazing into the rolling eyes of a horse with the blind staggers:
Shoot that animal.
Right away, sir.
Joseph is extremely cruel to his horses.
Yessir.
Fletch, this time you be the one to ride up to Carlton. Tell him I’m gaining on him. If his roadcutters can’t keep ahead of this army, they’ll be fired.
Yessir. Good-bye, general!
GOD bless you! Well, Bomus, are you keeping the teamsters up to the mark?
O, sir, they’ve contracted so many bills on Uncle Sam! They even—
