The Trooper (Under an Ash White Sky, 1878)

Part One of Two

The Trooper

(:) The fight was over, and he was one of if not the only rider left, a regiment, Part of the horse soldiers of Troop G said, no one knew if he just escaped from the valley, before the massacre, or after, or during, nobody knew much except his name, rank, and where his body So you could all I can say is that the history of ... terminate as close as possible and provide as much detail as anyone, some parts of conjecture, for on his death bed, he groaned out ... !

The heat was so great, it could not hide in the clouds, they soaked through them over the head of Corporal Armstrong Bridger, a horseman. The air was salty, soapy water and become gray to black, depending on where you stood in the valley or older. He fainted as the ash white sky sank lower, he had not reached the edge of the cliff, he looked around skeptically, but he was a soldier from the left of Troop G, perhaps from the government? It was questionable in his mind. Everyone he knew and rode with a soldier to soldier, shoulder to shoulder, had died. It had seemed to him that he was at the level for weeks, out with the general and the great, and then only the great and the troops assigned to riding to and fro, in search of Indians. His eyes were now poor, but he saw no Indians around, below the cliffs, some phonies, "Yes, phonies," he said to himself, "perfectly normal phonies lost, perhaps, but no Indians. In the distance he saw smoke, smoking hut, so he knew they were there, but far off.

The battle was over a few days before this he was charged, but was not sure anything. He rode bareback, and somewhere at the level he threw his saddle, and the like, other than the blue uniform he wore raggedy now stained with blood, and had they asked him where he threw the points, his best memories would have been : the gorge.

It was noon now, he was too tired to go further. To spend, he believed that the phonies were part of a larger herd now, and thought it unnecessary to hide any longer, after the enemy had disappeared, where they came from, thank God. Therefore, with how little he dug, he had breakfast (he had caught a prairie) squirrels. What he did not know or see that the phonies he saw a few Indians uneasy one, and she, as he was, resting and feasting after the great battle in the valley, and allowed to roam the phonies gorge unattended . And in that process, they discovered the saddle and clothing of the rider.

The ashes of burnt white dark sky, warmth, warmth, the vertical saturated in every living being, is nearby. Therefore found the young corporal loose branches and leaves, put some other ones from the surrounding trees and built a shelter from the heat, like a tent of sorts. There he fell asleep, as the heat haze descended, ash-colored with blues.

"All right, all right!" he muttered aloud in his semi-sleep mode: "I'll get up!"

The voice spoke a different language, but he understood it.

"Take your time," said the voice, now in plain English, as if it had quickly adapted his mother tongue.

"There are enough of you." voice notes.

The area was treeless not, as it had been when he fell asleep, sought refuge, and he thought about this for a moment. His boots were made of suede. Then a few voices that sounded the same voice as before, "Make way for Armstrong Bridger, left on the line!" At what point in a long line of people standing, when opened, spread out, has also progressed.

Meanwhile, the rider has always been reinstated to his feet, at the same time looking at the line and looked over his shoulder, listen to Indian voices, there were three Indians, arguing that it appeared to her with a power struggle over who would receive , this and that, and he was the package that they were fighting for, and they thought the scalp in his hands.

Then he heard that familiar voice called again to say gloomy over the roar of the men in the line-men with high voices screeching like tortured souls, "Make way for the riders!"

No: 470 (9-19-2009)

Part Two of Two

Firing Line

(Based on actual events)

since there was a moment in the propulsion of the troops, an unlucky soldier walked quickly forward on the mount into oblivion, never to see again. Major Reno had little concern for the soldiers, but he was nevertheless remarked that he was from G Troop, his Springfield (rifle) was in the saddle, he had, as though it all looked tired for weeks in the plains, Indians without to kill, but now Indians had been sighted, and he rode into the nest of them, fearless, or stupid.

The remaining troops were surrounded then, on the plains, but there were some big trees for safety, but the Sioux Indians, where bullets everywhichway shooting mounted on ponies, the length and breadth and sweep through the bushes and leaves , thereabouts, including Indians in the vicinity of the gorge under attack, the river, and were on the rocks down into the valley, and some were in the valley, four thousand of them have been mounting a deadly war, and that was the beginning. ..

No: 472 (9-20-2009)

 

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