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"Yeah, I need a hot bath and a day or two's sleep right now."
"Aiden McCoy?" A corporal came running down the steps of the headquarters. Young and neatly dressed, the young soldier was eager to do the Colonel's bidding. Aiden turned slowly toward the Corporal, his glance sliding quickly over the young man.
The young Corporal couldn't have been much over eighteen. Clean shaven, well built and eager to please, he stared blatantly at Aiden for a second before he seemed to remember why he was there.
"Yes," Aiden addressed the soldier with temperance. Aiden was a tall, slender man with long, burnished light brown hair, his glance slid from Skeeter into the young soldier with half annoyance and half pity. He turned to look at the Corporal as he was talking to Skeeter. His brown eyes going over the young man once more with interest.
"Major Marsh wants to see you."
Aiden threw Skeeter a quick glance, "I was hoping for some sleep before I am dragged off for another assignment."
"That's what you get for being so popular with the officers." Skeeter chuckled.
"Thanks Corporal, talk to you later Skeeter," He motioned to the scout that shook his head.
"Sure thing, Aiden," Skeeter's twinkling brown eyes met Aiden's annoyed glance. Skeeter had been a scout here for nearly ten years. He knew Aiden well. "Hope you can manage to get a little rest."
"Me too. I'm beat." Aiden shook his head.
Aiden smiled and went to the Colonel's office.
He hadn't known Colonel Gibbon long, but he heard plenty from fellow soldiers. Colonel Gibbon had an astute history as a war hero. He'd been wounded several times during the civil war and survived. He'd written a manual on artillery that both Confederate and Union soldiers studied on during the civil war. Aiden quickly sized him up as a tough man some time ago. He had a reputation of sorts with some as a very hard man to deal with. Most of the scouts didn't care for him, but it was because most of the scouts were either Indian or part Indian. Aiden was neither, but he had to respect Gibbon, he'd been through numerous wars and was still alive.
Major Marsh was a different story, working under Gibbon, Marsh was overlooked by the war hero General and sought fame for himself. He was young and eager to fight and make a name for himself.
It was an uneven time for the Indians. Custer was Between the Major and the Colonel, they planned to put the Indians in their place.
Lt. General Philip Sheridan had begun the campaign with Brig General Crook on the Platt, General Terry in the Dakotas and Colonel Gibbon in the District of Montana to bring all hostile Indians onto the reservations. It was a goal that would bring them great credit and mark the end for the Indians. But thinking about it and accomplishing it, was two very different things. None of the Indians would go willingly to a reservation, with good reason. Once under the control of Washington, the Indians were severely taken advantage of as far as Aiden was concerned.
Given a parcel of land, Aiden knew it was only a matter of time before settl
ers started moving in and pushing the Indians off the land. They'd no sooner assign them a piece of land for a reservation than the white people found a reason to invade them. Treaties were famously broken.
There was Custer who flamboyantly bragged he'd take Sitting Bull down. It was fact that every big-wig officer west of the Missouri wanted to take the Sioux and Cheyenne, and Arapaho down and now was not a peaceful time, on either side. The Sioux were gathering great forces, and the Cheyenne had taken over the Plains.
"You wanted to see me Major?" Aiden asked as he stepped into the sterile office. Aiden could never quite get over the fact that the Colonel had such a bland, non-descript office. The only display he offered was a well-protected closet of artillery he'd acquired over the years. Aiden had seen Custer's office once, and the stark differences echoed in Aiden's mind. Custer's office held victorious souvenirs of his battles, having swords, and guns and all manner of flags displayed on his walls. There was a picture on his desk of his wife, there were poetry books on a shelf. He had fancy rugs and painted quite a picture of his conquests. Here there was a desk, and two chairs, one for the Colonel and one for his guests. The walls echoed the somberness of a man who'd seen many battles yet was victor of a small handful of what Washington called skirmishes since the civil war. A man who pushed on, no matter what, who obeyed orders. Most officers had pictures and souvenirs all over the place, but not Gibbon. He was a realist, but he aimed to be the victor in the end. Major Marsh was in charge at the moment as Gibbon was visiting Washington. Jeb Marsh was a plain unadorned man with a no-nonsense approach to life. He had a big mustache that one noted when they walked in the room, He was big, tall, and immaculate in appearance, in his mid-fifties with graying hair, a round face and ruddy complexion. He glanced up from his desk. His sharp light brown eyes nailed Aiden as he came into the room.
Marsh rarely smiled except around women, he thought himself quite the ladies' man.
Aiden stared at the man as he shook his hand. Marsh was a hard as rock army man who'd witnessed the remains of too many of his own men to brag. It was a daunting job, the Indians no longer wanted to talk of treaties with them moving about it was hard to keep an eye on them especially with the Black Hills accommodating their escapes. The Sioux, Cheyenne and other tribes found the Black Hills a haven of home. Mainly because it had been given them as the Great Sioux Reservation, and because no one could manipulate those hills better than the Indians.
Marsh was a West Pointer who went strictly by the book. Aiden didn't like him much, but Marsh favored him above all the scouts. Mainly because he knew the Indians so well. Aiden had to give him credit, he knew his job, and he took it seriously.
Right now, Aiden was over-worked, under-paid and out of sorts with officers with big dreams, and wagon masters who thought themselves God Almighty.
"Sit down, Aiden."
Suddenly the door opened, and a man and woman came inside. The woman wore fine green silks with a plume of feathers in her hat that matched. The man beside her looked dignified but restrained somehow.
Major Marsh stood up and smiled, extending his hand to the gentleman and a cordial greeting for the beautiful woman at his side.
"Aiden this is Frank Winters and his wife Gloria. They are here to find their daughter, Peggy. She's three years old and was captured in a wagon train by the Sioux. I want you to help them find her, as I cannot spare a man right now, and you are the only one that could accomplish this."
Aiden glanced once more at the couple. The man was not much taller than the woman, but he looked capable. The woman was a beauty, with dark raven hair, and grey eyes that looked straight through him.
Aiden looked at Major Marsh, "This isn't the sort of thing I usually take care of, Major."
"True, but I cannot spare a troop, to go hunt for the child, and you are the next best thing to a troop in that country." The Major smiled at Mrs. Winters.
