Captain Carey
OR
Fighting the Indians at Pine Ridge
BY
LIEUT. LOUNSBERRY
Author of "Won at West Point"
UNDER ORDERS.
"Well, Carey, my gallant aide-de-camp and friend, I am to lose you, it seems; but then what is my loss is your gain, as you have been promoted to a first lieutenancy, and ordered to report at once to General Miles for special duty," said Colonel Crandall, commandant of an advanced military post upon the border of the Indian country, and he held in his hands an official paper just received by courier.
The one whom he addressed had just entered his quarters, having been sent for to report immediately to the commandant, and, at the words of his superior, his face lighted up with enthusiasm, and he said, warmly:
"All that I am, Colonel Crandall, I owe to you, for it was you that sent me, a border boy, to West Point, and gave me the opportunity of becoming what I am more proud of than anything else in life, that of being an officer in the Army of the United States. My advancement has been through you alone, sir, and though I leave you with regret, I am glad to go into the field once more, for I wish to win another bar, sir, upon my shoulder-strap."
"And you will, mark my words, Carey, for there is to be trouble with the Indians, as you predicted, for General Brooke writes me that your full report to him has been thus far proven correct, and that is why you are needed now, on account of your perfect knowledge of the country and the Indian character. But let me say to you that you place too much stress upon what I did for you in the past, for you had it in you to make yourself all that you have done, as otherwise you would never have gotten through West Point, and if I had my way to-day I would make you a captain. But you are to go at once, and bear dispatches as well, and your traps shall follow by wagon-train later."
"I will be ready, Colonel Crandall, within half an hour," was the prompt reply.
"No, not so soon as that, Lieutenant Carey, for I have a mission for you to perform, which I must ask you to undertake."
"Certainly, sir."
"It is to become the escort of Captain Foshay's daughter, who is most anxious to return to her home and be with her mother, now that her father is to go into service. She declared she would go with the courier alone, but then I could not hear to that, of course, but if you will be bored with her for a ride of fifty miles, I will be glad to place her in your charge, as the girl is determined to go, and, preparing, as I am, to send General Brooke all the men I can, I cannot spare one as an escort to her."
"I shall undertake the mission with pleasure, for Miss Foshay is a superb rider, fearless, and can use a weapon if need be, while if we have to run for it, I believe she would be no tax upon me whatever."
"You really think then the Indians may be hovering about the trails already?" anxiously asked Colonel Crandall.
"I had just returned from a scout, sir, and was coming to report to you when I got your order to come at once to you. I made a complete circuit, Colonel Crandall, and there are signs that the redskins are taking positions along the trails, and mean mischief."
"Then it will be dangerous for Miss Emma to go?"
"Hardly as much now, sir, and untrammeled, as it would be several days later with a wagon-train."
"You are right, Carey, and I feel that she will be safe with you, for I know all that you are. I will see her at once, and arrange for you to start within a couple of hours."
"I will be ready, sir. As I shall need my two horses, I will let Miss Foshay ride one, and you know their speed, sir."
"Yes, no Indian can catch you, that is certain. Now go and prepare for your journey, and let me tell you again how much I dislike to part with you. I owe my life to you, Carey, and you are well aware how much my niece, Kate, owes to your pluck, for you saved her from the Indians, from that traitor guide, and afterwards from a fate hardly less cruel, from being forced into a marriage with that scoundrel Nevil, whom, I am happy to say, you drove out of the service. No, Kit Carey, I can never forget you, and all that you have done for me and mine, and God bless you, my noble young friend, will be my constant prayer," and the voice of the brave old officer quivered as he uttered the words and turned away to go in search of Miss Foshay, and explain to her that she could go under the escort of the young hero, Lieutenant Kit Carey, to join her father, and from thence to her home, for while on a visit to him, Captain Foshay had been unexpectedly ordered to the front.
Kit Carey was, as he had said, a border boy, for he had been reared upon the plains by an old hermit hunter, who had skilled him in every kind of frontier craft.
He had saved Colonel Crandall, a party of soldiers, and the colonel's niece, who had been led into a trap by a renegade guide, and this act had gotten for him a cadetship at West Point.
He had fought his way through against every obstacle, and been ordered to the command of Colonel Crandall, as the latter's aide-de-camp, and at once had he rendered gallant services, which had made him famous as an Indian fighter.
Years had passed, and he had faithfully rendered services to the Government, until he had won promotion, and on account of his splendid record had at once been ordered to the front to perform special service.
A dashing soldier, fearless to recklessness, handsome as an Adonis, and a hero, it was no wonder that Kit Carey was popular with his brother officers and the soldiers as well, and it was predicted that if there was another Indian war he would win still higher promotion, in spite of his youth.
Such was Lieutenant Kit Carey, a gallant soldier of the Seventh Cavalry, who was again to face death in its worse forms in fighting the treacherous Sioux, who knew him well and feared him, yet respected him as well, for never had he broken faith with them in war or peace.
THE PREMONITION.
In just two hours after receiving his orders to go to the front, Lieutenant Carey rode up to the colonel's quarters and dismounted, and an orderly led behind him a horse equipped with a lady's saddle, while groups of soldiers stood about and shook their heads ominously at thought of the daring venture to be made by the young officer and his fair charge.
Lieutenant Kit Carey was splendidly mounted, and ready for the field, when he presented himself before Colonel Crandall, for he had on his sword, a revolver in his belt, and a pair of Colt's, of heavy caliber, in his saddle holsters.
A blanket rolled behind his saddle, a pair of leather pockets attached to his saddle, and an army overcoat, made up his equipment, for he was going "light," as the soldiers say.
There was a revolver in the holster attached to the lady's saddle, a pair of leather pockets, a closely-rolled serape, and no more, for Miss Foshay's and the lieutenant's baggage was to follow by wagon-train a few days later, when a force was to go from Colonel Crandall's post to reinforce General Brooke in the field.
"I am ready, Lieutenant Carey, and must thank you for being willing to submit to my company on your long ride," said Emma Foshay, a beautiful girl of eighteen, with a face that revealed a noble nature.
Her form showed its graceful proportions well in her close-fitting riding habit, trimmed with brass buttons and gold lace, and upon her head she wore a slouch hat with a broad brim, looped up with a pair of miniature gold sabers.
"I am happy, indeed, Miss Foshay, to have such pleasant company upon the long, and, permit me to say, rough ride. But I deem it my duty to tell you that it may be one of great peril, and that the ride may be an all night one."
"I thank you for the warning, Lieutenant Carey; but I have weighed the situation well, and I am ready to put up with all the hardships you may have to undergo, while the danger but adds a charm to the ride. Candidly, though, my mother is a great invalid, and I only stole a few weeks' respite to come here and visit papa, who had to obey orders, and if my mamma should not have me near her, knowing the situation, I feel for the result, so I am determined to go, visit father for an hour in camp, and then hasten on to the station to take the train for home. Now you understand my position, Lieutenant Carey."
"Perfectly, and am wholly at your service as an escort," and turning to his commander, Kit Carey continued:
"I report for orders, sir."
"Go with all dispatch to General Brooke, are General Miles' orders, Lieutenant Carey, to enter upon some special service he has in view for you. Here are dispatches for the commandant, giving all views from my standpoint of the situation, and you can explain the positions of the Indians. That is all, Carey, except I beg you to take care of yourself and this sweet girl, whom, I candidly say, I would not trust to any but yourself. Good-by, and Heaven bless you both."
Farewells were said, and leading Emma Foshay to her horse, Kit Carey raised her to her saddle as easily as he would a child, for he was a man of phenomenal strength.
Leaping into his own saddle, without aid of the stirrup, he raised his hat as farewells were waved, and then came ringing cheers from the soldiers, as an officer called out:
"Three cheers, men, for Lieutenant Kit Carey of the gallant Seventh!"
At a canter the officer and the young girl rode away from the post, and anxious eyes watched them until they disappeared far away across the prairie, while old soldiers shook their sage heads in a way that was a foreboding of evil to come.
If Kit Carey felt any anxiety he did not show it, for his face was as sunny-hued as ever, and for himself he held no fear whatever, but for his fair companion.
Emma Foshay had won many hearts while on the short visit to the post, and yet, if she had a preference herself for any one officer, she was one to keep the secret hidden in her own heart.
There were some who said that Kit Carey was her favorite, and that she had taken up her cross in life when she heard one day that he was engaged to a fair young girl in New York, one who had been his companion in boyhood, and whose meeting had been a strange romance.
But if Emma Foshay felt that life had lost its charm through a love unrequited, she did not show to others the aching heart she bore.
Without following a trail, Kit Carey led the way across country, and seemed only anxious to reach the beaten track to the agency before night should fall.
After a ride of a couple of hours a halt was made upon the banks of a stream, and the two ate a cold supper, though a good one, and enjoyed it, while the horses were staked out for rest and food.
The sun was just an hour from the western horizon, when they resumed their way, Kit Carey having been off a short distance examining what he called "signs," and he muttered to himself:
"I don't half like them."
But as cheerily as before he raised his charge to her saddle, and said:
"Let us push on for the trail at a gallop, Miss Foshay."
"You have made some discoveries, Lieutenant Carey, which you do not wish to tell me?"
"No, I'll tell you frankly, that I believe we will run upon some band of redskins, but with what treatment at their hands I cannot tell. Be ready to ride like the wind, or halt and wheel for a race, Miss Foshay, for we had better run for it than trust to an Indian's humor just now."
"You are captain, sir, so give your orders to run, or fight and I obey," was the plucky response of the young girl.
Kit Carey smiled and remarked:
"I like your pluck, Miss Foshay, so will frankly tell you that if aught should happen to me, ride straight east until you strike the broad trail to the agency. Then wheel to the left and your horse will carry you in all right, never fear."
"But what could happen to you, Lieutenant Carey?"
"Well, should the Indians jump us, and crowd too close, I will halt to hold them at bay, and you must ride on—see! Here are the dispatches, and as a bearer of military dispatches, you must push on and obey orders."
"But you speak as though you had a premonition of evil," said Emma Foshay, as Kit Carey placed in her saddle pocket the dispatches.
"You can reach camp, Miss Foshay, and to have you do so I must hold the redskins in check, and come in later."
"And you expect me to desert you, sir?"
"It will not be a desertion, for you obey orders. Ah! it is as I feared," and just then dashed over the top of a distant rise half a hundred mounted redskins.
THE SACRIFICE.
The young officer had not been mistaken in his premonition of danger. He had read the "signs" aright, and was sure that the band of Indians now coming toward them, were haunting the trails to cut off communication with Colonel Crandall's post, or reinforcements going from there toward the agency.
A few settlers' homes had been burned, several wagon-trains attacked, cattle run off and horses stolen, with here and there a fatal shot fired, yet there had been no open warfare yet.
Still Kit Carey knew that a chance to strike their pale-face foes was all that the Sioux needed, and he was well aware that they would do so now, if they supposed it to their interest to prevent a communication that might tell against them from reaching the military commander then pressing troops to the field with all dispatch to put them down.
With her army jacket and her hat, at a distance Emma Foshay would be taken for an officer, Kit Carey well understood; but he determined to push on, as he dared not trust to the Indians, not knowing their humor.
If he attempted to fly then they would soon show their intentions by opening fire, and in such case to run for it was all that could be done.
"We will not make their closer acquaintance, Miss Foshay, but do what the Confederates used to call skedaddle. If they fire on us, then our horses must show their speed."
"I am ready, Lieutenant Carey," was the calm rejoinder of the young girl, and the two horses bounded away together.
Thus far the Indians had only come at a run over the hill, though some of them had given utterance to a wild yell.
The keen eyes of Kit Carey saw that they were in full war-paint, and he felt that to fly was their only safety.
Had he been alone he might have been tempted to test their friendship by a parley, but with Emma Foshay along, he dared not.
He was not willing to fire the first shot, the Sioux must do that.
So away the two horses bounded, side by side, and the act brought forth a series of wild yells that caused the color to leave the face of the young girl, though she remained outwardly calm.
"Ride on, Miss Foshay, for I wish to get a better look at them."
"And you?"
"Will follow close upon the heels of your horse."
"No, you see what I do, that the Indians are preparing to fire, and wish to protect me by your own form. We ride side by side, Lieutenant Carey."
Kit laughed lightly, at being so understood, and glancing behind him saw the puff of smoke from a dozen rifles, followed by the reports and the whizz of the bullets.
"So that is the way a bullet sounds, is it?" coolly said Emma Foshay, as the leaden messengers flew by, evidently fired to frighten and not hit the fugitives.
"Yes, they make unpleasant music, Miss Foshay; but once we get over that rise we must try and press on out of range."
Soon after the horses dashed over the rise referred to, and were then put to their full speed, and rapidly gained upon the redskins, who, coming again in sight, now fired at their flying foes.
"Ha! my horse is hit, but I hope it is nothing serious," said the lieutenant, as he heard the thud of the bullet when it hit his horse, and felt the splendid animal writhe under him.
"There is the trail to the agency, Miss Foshay, and we will turn into it soon. The animal you ride knows the way well, should mine fail, and he will carry you there in a few hours, while I am sure no other redskins are between us and the camp. Ah! my poor comrade, you are feeling your wound," and Lieutenant Carey patted the animal affectionately as he felt him failing.
"Quick! Lieutenant Carey, mount behind me!" cried Emma, as she saw the wounded horse staggering.
"I will try it at least; but if we cannot keep ahead then you must go on alone."
He tore off his holsters as he spoke, leaped from his saddle just as his horse stumbled and fell, and with a spring was behind the young girl.
The redskins yelled with savage triumph, and pressed their ponies harder.
Turning into the broad trail to the agency the horse held his own for a while, though bearing his double weight.
At last Kit Carey spoke, and his voice meant all he said:
"Miss Foshay, no horse can stand this, and to force him to it will end in untold misery to you, as well as to me. I shall drop off at yonder ridge, and you must go on, not pressing your horse too hard, for I will check the Indians for awhile, at least."
"And leave you to sacrifice yourself for me?" was the indignant response of the brave girl.
"It is a sacrifice I command you to take advantage of—— No! you must obey, for I shall only be taken prisoner, and you can send a relief party from the agency to rescue me."
"Oh, can I?" and her face brightened.
"Yes; and you the Indians would not give up," he added, significantly. "Here we are at the ridge, so keep right on, sparing your horse all you can."
He slipped from the back of the horse as he spoke, at the same time striking the animal a sharp rap with his hat, which caused him to bound forward with increased speed.
"Good-by! but I can never forgive myself for this sacrifice you make for me," came back to the young officer, as unable to check her horse on the run down the ridge, Emma Foshay went flying away, leaving Kit Carey in the trail to stand at bay against fearful odds.
Knowing the country as he did, he had chosen well just where to leave the maiden to go on alone, for the nature of the ground was such just then that the Indians could be held at bay for a few minutes at least, while they could not make a flank movement of his position without a ride of half a mile out of their way.
This would give Emma Foshay a long start, which, with the greater speed of her horse, she could hold.
But what was to be his fate, Kit Carey did not know, though he was ready to meet it, be it what it might.
AT BAY AGAINST BIG ODDS.
The pursuing redskins were all of a third of a mile from the ridge, when the double-weighted horse disappeared over it.
With a delay of a few minutes, and relieved of his double load, Kit Carey was assured he could force the Indians to give up their chase after the young girl.
A glance showed him that the animal was running well, and then he sprang to the shelter of some rocks and laid the two holster revolvers before him, for they were long range weapons.
"This is for the forlorn hope," he said, grimly as he patted the smaller revolver in his sword-belt.
On up the trail came the redskins at full speed, yelling like demons, and feeling confident of their prey.
As the leaders rushed over the ridge they beheld a sight that was wholly unexpected to them.
There over half a mile away was flying along the trail the horse upon which Emma Foshay was mounted, and right in their path, to bar their way, upright, determined, and at bay, a revolver in each hand, and but his head and shoulders seen above the rocks, stood Kit Carey.
There was a look upon his face that was dangerous—a determination to fight it out right then and there against all odds.
Kit Carey, a soldier of the Seventh, was at bay, and that meant that there would be no weakening on his part.
Still he did not fire. He simply stood with revolvers ready, fingers on trigger, fearless, and not to be beaten back.
The Sioux were unprepared for the fight.
Had one man stopped there to fight them, or were there others ambushed among the rocks?
So quickly had those in advance drawn up their ponies that several went down, and those pressing on behind fell over them, until it became a mass of struggling warriors and mustangs.
Quickly the braves were upon their feet, neither hurt nor bruised by the fall, and many sprang back to cover over the ridge.
But Kit Carey had not pulled trigger, and by one of those strange circumstances wholly unaccountable, not a warrior had fired either.
There was a pony with a broken leg lying upon the trail, a feather head-dress and a Winchester rifle, but that was all.
What the result would have been was hard to tell, had not the young officer quickly taken advantage of the lull to call out in the Sioux tongue, which he spoke perfectly:
"Why are my red brothers seeking to kill one who has been their friend in times of peace, if their foe in times of war?"
His clear ringing voice reached every ear, and there were those now among the band of pursuers who recognized him, and calling him by the name he was known in their tribe, Chief Crow Dog answered the question like a Yankee, by asking another:
"Why did the White War Eagle fly from his red friends?"
"The one with me was not a soldier, but a woman, and the war-cries of the braves against their friends alarmed her. If they were friends, why did they fire upon me? Did I kill the great Chief Crow Dog, and his braves, as I could have done, when they came over the hill?"
"White War Eagle speaks well; but the great medicine chief, Tatanka Yotanke, is near, and must hear his words. If Tatanka Yotanke[1] says it is war, then war it will be; but if he says it is peace, the White War Eagle can go his way."
"I am content, so let the great medicine chief, Sitting Bull, say which it shall be," was the fearless reply of the young soldier.
Chief Crow Dog then turned to one of his braves, and said something in a low tone.
Instantly the warrior rode away at a gallop, and Crow Dog stepped toward Kit Carey, who called out quickly: "Hold! is the Crow Dog a fool that he comes near me when it may be war, not peace between us?"
The chief sprang back to cover with an alacrity that was ludicrous, for he had been anxious to get near the young soldier with some of his braves, so as to spring upon him should Sitting Bull decide that the officer was to be attacked.
Seeing his advantage gained, by his bold front shown, Lieutenant Carey said:
"Why does the great chief, Sitting Bull, go on the war-trail away from his camp, if he is the friend of the pale-faces?"
Crow Dog seemed to feel that he had made a mistake in stating that Sitting Bull was along with the party, so replied with the quick cunning and ready lie of the redskins:
"Sitting Bull has been to see a chief who is ill."
"And did Crow Dog with fifty mounted braves, all in war-paint, go with him?"
"The great chief is here," said Crow Dog, anxious to withdraw from the questioning to which he had been subjected.
And over the ridge rode Tatanka Yotanke, the greatest chief of his tribe, a man with intelligence, courage, viciousness, and implacable hatred toward his foes, the whites.
But his face showed no hatred now, for he dismounted, laid his weapons upon his blanket, and came straight toward Kit Carey, his hands raised, while he said in his low, earnest voice: