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I’m giving you a field promotion to major.”
    Tom was happily surprised. The men clapped, everyone offering congratulations, for Tom had earned their respect many times over. If there was any jealously from Keogh or Yates, they were kind enough not to show it.
    “What about Butler?” Smith asked.
    “What about him?” I said.
    “He’s the best shot in the regiment and was assigned to L Company, which no longer exists. Seems to me E Company needs him the most,” Smith explained.
    “I Company needs him the most. We have the harder march,” Lt. Reily protested. Born in Washington D.C. and all of twenty-three years old, William Van Wyck Reily was now low man on the totem pole. Maybe if he’s stayed in the Naval Academy at Annapolis, he would have become an admiral instead.
    “We can cut cards for him,” Yates said, producing a well-used deck from his breast pocket.
    “Sounds like a plan,” I said, taking the deck away from him.
    I cut the cards, cut them again, and then flipped the deck over to pick out the ace of spades.
    “Sorry boys, looks like I win,” I said, holding the card up for everyone to see. The men groaned.
    * * *
     
    We continued southwest for several days, hunting, fishing and seeking forage for the horses. There was talk among the men. Some thought we were lost. Some thought we were dead. Some thought to desert, but I ordered my officers to shoot anyone who tried. This was no time for discipline to break down.
    I had thought our Sioux companions might make good guides, but they were strangers to the territory. Spotted Eagle and Gray Wolf soon attached themselves to Bouyer, who was fluent in the Lakota language. Bouyer suppressed the anger he felt at all Sioux, who had ostracized him as a boy. Apparently the scout was unwilling to blame these youngsters for the sins of their fathers.
    The young braves proved to be good students and eager scouts. Walking-In-Grass and Jumping Bull took up residence in the wagon, Sergeant Bobby Hughes and Corporal Henry French becoming my teamsters. Morning Star and Tom became inseparable, much to my concern. I did not object, in principle, for she was good company and had a lovely laugh, but I remembered my relationship with a young Cheyenne woman several years before. Such affairs never turn out well.
    After being held up for two days by persistent rain, we finally reached a river large enough to suggest eventual civilization. I wondered if we might be heading toward the Missouri River, or even the Mississippi, but our course kept turning in the wrong direction. We could not wander forever. There was little forage for the horses, and the buffalo had disappeared. The few game animals we found were not enough to feed the whole command for very long, nor could we depend on the occasional fruit tree and berry bush. Such concerns had me worried, though I did not reveal my thoughts. Right or wrong, a commander in the field must never show doubt.
    Finally, seven days after our mysterious encounter with the gray fog, we recognized our location. And discovered an incomprehensible event.
    “It’s the Rio, Gen’ral, no doubt ’bout it,” Bouyer reported.
    “The Rio Grande? The Rio Grande River?” I asked again.
    “Ain’t no lie. We’re about half a day from the Old Camino Real. Cross over into Mexico if ya want to,” my scout said.
    “I have no intention of going into Mexico,” I replied in a huff.
    “At least we know where we are,” Tom said with relief. “If we turn east, we can reach San Antonio in a few days.”
    “You been there before?” Bouyer asked.
    “General Custer and I served in Texas after the war. Mostly stationed in Austin, but we took in a few of the sites,” Tom explained.
    I remembered those days with fondness. The French government had used a debt crisis as an excuse to conquer Mexico. Our government was afraid the Emperor Maximilian might give aid to unrepentant Rebs, some of who had fled into Mexico hoping to raise a new army. The