Wrath of the Savage Read Online Free Page B

reluctantly climbed into the saddle.
    The patrol rode for less than a mile before coming upon Coldiron sitting on a fallen tree trunk beside the river. He got to his feet when they pulled up to a stop.
    â€œHere’s where they crossed, Lieutenant, just like I figured.” He pointed, then, across the river. “I expect they headed for that ravine yonder, figurin’ on puttin’ that ridge between ’em and the tradin’ post.”
    It was not necessary to dismount. Bret could see the prints of a dozen or so unshod ponies leading across a thin strip of sand and into the water.
    On the opposite side, the tracks seemed to be starting toward the ravine Coldiron had pointed out, so they headed for it at a lope, pulling up again at the mouth of the ravine long enough to confirm his hunch. Bret would ordinarily have sent two men out, one to each side, to act as lookouts, but owing to the narrow confines of the ravine, it was unnecessary. So they continued to follow Coldiron in a column of twos as they climbed toward the ridge above them. Once again confirming Coldiron’s speculation, the Blackfoot war party did not continue up into the mountains, but descended on the other side of the ridge and cut back to the north.
    â€œSo far, they’re doin’ just like I figured,” Coldiron said. “I didn’t expect ’em to head on up into the Absarokas. They’re headin’ home. They’ll be crossin’ back across the river somewhere up ahead, most likely before the river takes a hard turn and heads east. Trouble is, it’s comin’ dark pretty soon, and I won’t be able to see where they crossed.”
    â€œI was wonderin’ about that myself,” Duncan said. They had been following the Yellowstone on its northeast course since crossing over, but somewhere ahead of them, maybe twenty miles or thereabout, the river’s course turned almost due east. And like Coldiron, he doubted the Blackfoot would follow it.
    â€œWell, the horses are getting tired, anyway,” Bret decided. “We might as well go ahead and make camp and get after them again in the morning.” He let Coldiron and Duncan pick the spot they favored near a stand of willow trees at the water’s edge.
    When the horses were unsaddled and watered, and a good campfire was going, Duncan directed two of the men to string a rope between two trees to act as a hitching post for the horses. On Bret’s orders, he then called out a sentry detail, starting with Private Lazzara and changing every two hours throughout the night. This was met with some disappointment by the eight troopers, but only one was vocal in complaint.
    â€œGuard duty?” Weaver whined. “What the hell for? There ain’t no Injuns within fifty miles of here.”
    â€œThere’s a helluva lotta things you don’t know, Weaver,” Duncan told him. “That’s just one of ’em. But if you’ve gotta know the reason you’re gonna pull guard duty, it’s because the lieutenant ordered it, and I, by God, said so.”
    Overhearing the last part of Weaver’s complaining, Bret stepped a little closer and commented, “There’s gonna be a horse guard tonight, and every night after this, because I don’t intend to walk back to Fort Ellis. Is that reason enough for you?”
    â€œYes, sir,” Weaver answered meekly.
    â€œGood,” Bret said. “Now, don’t ever let me hear you question orders again. Is that understood?”
    â€œYes, sir,” he mumbled, a childish pout upon his face. After Bret had walked away to sit down near Coldiron and Duncan, Weaver muttered under his breath, “Son of a bitch.”
    â€œQuit your bellyachin’, Weaver,” Pruett told him.
    â€œYeah,” Lazzara said. “And Duncan said you’re supposed to relieve me in two hours. Make damn sure you do it, or the sergeant ain’t gonna be the only one