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sip of water from a hide bag without further comment. I had the impression he didn’t believe me.
    * * *
     
    I did not understand Wakan Tanka’s vision. My mind was suddenly younger, more hopeful, but troubled by a strange journey. My older sister and cousins, long since dead, now lived once more. We were far to the south of our hunting grounds searching for a white buffalo, or a white wolf, but instead we found a white man. A bitter enemy of the People. In what manner could this be a good thing?

     

 
    Chapter Two
     
Encounter on the Rio Grande
     

     
    The next morning, I decided it was time to reorganize the command. A company of U.S. cavalry generally holds sixty men and several officers, but we were under strength even before reaching the Little Big Horn. Now we had even fewer. Just after dawn, Corporal Voss trumpeted officer’s call.
    “Gentlemen, we need to make some adjustments,” I announced, standing under a gray leafless tree outside my teepee. Each of my officers held a cup of coffee while Walking-In-Grass served fried trout for breakfast. The young Indian boy sat on a blanket, watching from a distance.
    “Finally making me the general, Autie?” Tom asked with a sassy grin. I ignored him.
    “We are reducing our five companies to four,” I said. “It goes without saying that Cooke and Dr. Lord will remain with my headquarters staff. Company L is disbanded. Myles, as senior captain, you’ll retain command of I Company. Harrington will be your executive officer. Draw five more men to bring your troop up to forty. You are the left wing of this regiment.”
    “Yes, General, thank you, sir,” Keogh replied, pleased to be singled out first. But Keogh deserved it. Thirty-six years old, he was closest to me in age. Always reliable, he had fought in Italy before joining the Union army, rode with General Buford at Gettysburg, and held his own against Jeb Stuart in Virginia. By the end of the war, he held the brevet rank of lieutenant colonel. He was a stout, thick-necked, tough as nails Irishman. A quality we badly needed.
    “Fresh, you’ll keep command of E Company. I can only spare twenty men for your unit. You’ll hold the rear of the column and come forward when needed,” I said next, knowing Lieutenant ‘Fresh’ Smith would be disappointed. “I don’t have an executive officer for you, so select a man for temporary appointment. Sergeant Hohmeyer will do if you approve.”
    “Sure, Autie. Whatever’s best for the command,” Smith agreed.
    A clean-cut thirty-three-year-old New Yorker, Algernon Smith had served honorably in the volunteer infantry during the war, brevetted to the rank of major. He had fought beside me at the Washita, served on the Yellowstone campaign, and again on the Black Hills survey. He was a founding member of the ‘Custer Clan,’ as Benteen derisively referred to those officers who had served me loyally over the years.
    “F Company will be our right wing, thirty-six strong. Reily will be second- in-command,” I continued, looking at Tom and Yates.
    “And F Company’s commander will be?” Yates asked.
    A fair question. By rights, F Company belonged to Yates, but there was a complication. My brother had command of C Company for several years, first as a lieutenant and then as its captain, but only fifteen members of his troop had survived. Giving Yates the larger command would leave Tom with nothing but a platoon. I could see the anxiety in his expression.
    “Georgie, F Company is yours. I know you won’t let me down,” I said.
    “I never have, Autie,” Yates said, giving Tom a consoling pat on the knee.
    Tom tried to smile, being a good sport. It wasn’t as if I’d given the assignment to one of the junior officers.
    “Tom, you’ll continue serving as my aide-de-camp. I need you close by to keep me out of trouble,” I soon added. “And if something happens to me, I want you to take command of the entire regiment. Under these extraordinary circumstances,