Chapter 12 #3
“Face it, Sloan,” Jenkins was saying, “you don’t like the entire campaign in any way, shape or form. You’ve been excusing every atrocity the Indians have committed against the Whites!”
Sabrina, setting a large bowl of soup on the table, knew that the man was angering Sloan, and she also knew that Sloan would control his temper. She was surprised to glance at her husband’s face and realize just how hard it was for him to keep control of it now, though.
“I don’t excuse atrocities, no matter who commits them,” Sloan said. “But the fact of it is that, to most Whites, the treaties we make mean nothing—no Sioux is really entitled to anything that a White man wants.”
“You’re forgetting the massacres—”
“During the Washita Campaign in 1868, the soldiers were ordered to kill or hang every warrior in the Cheyenne camp, destroy the homes, make prisoners of the women and children. By White newspaper accounts, one hundred and three warriors were killed. According to the Cheyenne accounts, eleven warriors died—and the rest were women, children, and old folk.”
“According to the Cheyenne accounts!” Jenkins grated.
Sloan ignored him. “According to the last treaty the government signed with the Sioux, the Black Hills belong to the Indians. You can say what you want. When the cavalry has ridden in to fight the Indians, you know as well as I do that innocent men, women, and children have been slaughtered, so how you can say—”
“When the Indians attack, they kill everything that moves!” Jenkins interrupted. “Remember the Fetterman Massacre!”
“Fetterman taught us a lesson we should have learned. His commanding officer knew that he hadn’t enough men to fight a real battle, and Fetterman was ordered not to pursue the Indians.
He was a braggart who claimed that his superiors were fools and that he could clean out the hostiles with eighty men.
Oddly enough, exactly eighty men were slaughtered with him.
Apparently, he died for a good cause. The Whites back East demanded that the government take action against the hostiles—slaughter them all. It’s been happening ever since.”
“There you go defending the Sioux and their warriors!”
Sloan threw up his hands. “Well, sir, there is no one more renowned for going to battle against the Indians than our own George Armstrong Custer—and I have heard him say that he can well understand how a Sioux man would prefer to be a hostile than to accept the bug-laden, rotting allotments handed out by the government.”
“Damn you; you are one with them—”
Sloan took a deep breath, then leaned forward.
“If I were one with them, I’d be living on the plains.
God knows, what I’ve tried to do is bring peace when it’s possible and save captives when I can!
No one fought harder than Red Cloud in his day, yet he went to Washington, and he saw what I have described, that the Whites will never stop coming West. This conflict between the Whites and the Indians is going to end; it’s damned evident that it’s going to end.
Thousands of homesteaders, miners, adventurers, settlers, emigrants, and more will keep coming west, and eventually all the Indian tribes, all the Sioux, will be forced to cede the open plains and retire to government reservations.
Will it be right? No. Will it be a complete injustice?
Who’s to say? The Rees and Crows are always damned willing to take the side of the cavalry against the Sioux, because they feel that the Sioux forced them off their hunting grounds.
It’s numbers, Jenkins, sheer numbers. More and more Whites forced the Sioux west. There were more Sioux than Crow, so the Crow were forced west. Eventually, it will end—for much of the same reason that the North won the Civil War.
We could keep sending men and arms; the South could not. ”
“Major, sir!” Jenkins exploded. “Now you’re siding with the damned Johnny Rebs?”
“Now this is becoming absurd. You know that I fought for the Union, Jenkins—but I’ll be damned if I’ll take any pleasure in having killed my Southern friends, teachers, and classmates. And I’ll be damned now if I’ll take pleasure in the death of a people, and a way of life.”
“You are speaking like a complete traitor to the Whites, Major Trelawny!” Jenkins said.
“Lloyd!” Jean Jenkins murmured, slipping to her husband’s side and taking his arm in warning.
“Stay out of it, Jean!” he said curtly, shaking his wife’s touch off with a violence that surprised and frightened Sabrina.
“Captain!” Marlene remonstrated, stepping into the argument smoothly. “We all know that there isn’t a traitorous speck in the major’s body!”
Sabrina didn’t know why she was suddenly quite so furious to hear Marlene defending her husband.
It stirred a sense of fight and possessiveness within her own heart, and she stepped forward quickly.
“Captain Jenkins, I do admit to being terrified by the many tales I have heard regarding Sioux attacks. And though I’ve little firsthand experience, of course, my sister has spent time among the Sioux camps, and there are two ways to view any situation of conflict!
It will, of course, be sad to think that a way of life must be ended! ”
“Ladies, ladies,” Sloan murmured, irritated. “I thank you both for your thoughts, but I am quite capable of defending my own loyalty and honor. Excuse me, though, if you all will be so kind. I think I will leave you all to your dinner.”
“Major!” Jenkins said, swallowing hard. “Sir, I beg pardon for my bad manners, especially in this social situation. Stay, sir, if you wish, and I will leave.”
Sloan shook his head, bowing it slightly, the curve of a very dry smile about his lips. “Captain Jenkins, your apology is accepted. I’m feeling restless and would enjoy a walk.”
He strode toward the door, taking his overcoat from a hook and throwing it around his shoulders. Sabrina took a step forward, certain that she should accompany him.
But he stopped her when she would have reached for her cloak, taking her hands.
“Stay, enjoy dinner, my dear. I’m sure Reverend Anderson will escort you back to my quarters.
There’s no need for you to miss your meal because I feel restless.
” He brushed her lips briefly with a kiss.
His behavior was perfectly polite. He didn’t want her with him; others couldn’t see it, but she knew it perfectly well.
He stepped out and closed the door behind him.
“Jenkins!” Tom Custer said irritably when Sloan had gone. He looked sheepishly at Sabrina.
“All right, I’m sorry, and I said that I was sorry,” Jenkins said.
“But white is white. And I’m White, and the damned Sioux kill Whites!
This war against them is necessary. Crook is already in the field—killing Indians.
That’s what’s got the major’s goat tonight.
He came back in and received letters from Sherman, Sheridan, and Terry, all telling him that any information he manages to gather now on the hostiles must be reported immediately; there will be no more negotiation.
I’m sorry if I offended Major Trelawny. I’d rather the Sioux die than the Whites.
Well, it can’t be helped.” He swung around quite stiffly to Sabrina.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Trelawny. I was especially out of line, because you are with us tonight. ”
“There are plenty of soldiers who feel that the politicians have dealt dreadfully with the Sioux,” Marlene said before Sabrina could reply.
“But soldiers follow orders and fight where they’re told—even when they know the fight might be wrong.
And face it, gentlemen, every single one of you wants the glory associated with a rousing Indian kill! ”
Jenkins clenched his teeth, then responded to her. “Maybe we do seek glory. Maybe it’s damned true. Most men are anxious for the confrontation. A hostile is a hostile, and war is the only way that we will ever stop those hostiles from killing us!”
“Well, sir, take heart—you have been ordered to war,” Marlene said cheerfully. Then she rose, yawning. “I think I’ll skip dinner as well tonight…it’s gotten so very late. Good evening to you all.”
“Oh, dear, oh dear, such a great effort!” Sarah said unhappily. “And now no one wants dinner!”
“I would absolutely love dinner,” Sabrina heard herself say.
It wasn’t true; she was upset herself, but she didn’t want to walk out on the fine meal poor Maggie had worked so hard to prepare.
“Everything smells delicious. I would very much like to start dinner now, with anyone who chooses to join me!” She swirled around, going back into the kitchen area for a platter of meat.
Jean sprang quickly to her side; then Louella joined them.
Marlene, slipping back into her cloak, offered Sabrina a strange smile before departing.
As if she were—just perhaps—going after Sloan. And as if—just perhaps—Sloan would welcome her presence when he would not welcome that of his wife.
But Sabrina was going to ignore her despite all of her misgivings about her marriage.
And, if nothing else, she was damned determined to present a united front with Sloan to their neighbors at the fort.