the other side of them trees, where I couldnât see âem. Iâll admit that I was a little drowsy, maybe, but I never went to sleep.â
McCoy snorted derisively. âAinât no need to lie to me, Weaver. I donât care, as long as I came outta that mess alive. Hell, Iâda done the same as you, if I hadda been in your shoes.â
Weaver grinned meekly. âYou know how it is,â he said. âLook out for your own ass first.â
âThatâs the way I see it,â McCoy agreed. âSo right now we can go back and play the heroes. If weâre lucky, maybe the Injuns will take care of Hollister for us. I hope to hell he does catch up with âem, âcause thatâll be the end of that son of a bitch, and that big-ass scout, too. If they ask me where he is, Iâll just tell âem I donât know.â
The idea appealed to Weaver. He hadnât thought about playing the role of hero.
Leave it to McCoy . . . ,
he thought. âHell, they might even give us a couple of medals,â he said, grinning at the thought. âWouldnât that be somethinâ?â He paused then to look over the column of horses, a body across the saddle of each one. âHow come you ainât got an extra horse? Thatâs my horse.â He pointed to a red roan with Copelandâs body on it.
âHollister took an extra horse with him and Coldiron,â McCoy said.
âWell, I ainât ridinâ back to Fort Ellis behind no damn dead man,â Weaver snorted. He walked back until he came to a horse carrying Sergeant Duncanâs body. âIâll ride thisân,â he said, and dumped the sergeantâs body off on the road. âIt was a pleasure servinâ under you, Sergeant,â he mocked as he dragged Duncanâs corpse off into the bushes. He stepped up into the saddle then, and the two heroes set out to lead their dead comrades back to the fort.
Chapter 3
Having sent McCoy off that morning with the bodies of his fellow soldiers trailing behind him, Bret returned with Coldiron to pick up the trail of the retreating warriors. It wasnât difficult to follow, and it led straight north. âTheyâre ridinâ to catch up with the rest of that war party,â Coldiron said. âLooks like they was more interested in catchinâ up than they were in hidinâ their trail.â
âI doubt they think weâll follow them, since they know how few we are,â Bret replied.
âThey stayed on this side of the river,â Coldiron pointed out. âBut if theyâre goinâ where I think theyâre headinâ, theyâre gonna be crossinâ over to the other side when the river turns back to the east. So weâll just keep our eyes open to see where they crossed.â
They continued to follow the trail left by the dozen or so horses as the Blackfoot warriors followed the Yellowstone, carrying their dead with them. As Coldiron had predicted, they made a crossing of the river where it took a large turn to the east on its way to join the Missouri. Coming out of the river on the north side, the tracks held to a steady course across rolling, sparsely treed plains.
âIf they keep on in this direction, theyâre headed for the Crazy Mountains,â Coldiron said. He pointed toward the rugged peaks, clearly seen, even though they were half a dayâs ride away. âHard to say what theyâve got in mind,â he went on. âMaybe theyâre supposed to meet up with the bunch weâve been trailinâ somewhere up in the mountains. Maybe theyâll stay clear of the mountains and go on up to the Musselshell. I reckon weâll find out.â
After a stop to eat something and let the horses rest, they were back in the saddle to resume their mission. Eventually the trail led them to a small pond, fed by a strong stream coming from the mountains. The Indians had followed