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Godless land. But now the barbarians are destroying us.”
    Barrett smiled wryly. “ Not godless — they ’ ve probably got their own demons to pray to.” He paused, and continued quietly. “ Judging from their success so far, the I ndian gods seem to be more effective than our own.” He removed his spectacles and vigorously polished the dust from them. Firelight glinted on the lenses.
    “ Doesn ’ t someone have anything to drink?” Tucker said in a cracking voice.
    Kenner banged his empty ca nteen as evidence. “ You ’ re we l come to make a run for the creek if you want to fill it up.”
    Tucker swallowed hard, and sat back in silence. Darby whacked his tomahawk on the ground, gouging out a deep chunk of dirt. In the distance, the Sioux let out a loud whooping cheer, and the victory fires burned brighter. Moans from the wounded drifted on the sluggish night air, and dying horses from the troop u t tered sounds that made the pain of the men seem like nothing.
    “ Doc Porter ’ s keeping the last of the water fo r the wounded.” Barrett ’ s nonchalant tone was taut with strain. “ Doesn ’ t matter. We ’ re all going to die anyway.”
    “ Shut up, Barrett.” Edgerton and Kenner snapped in unison, then glared at each other. Edgerton had never gotten along well with the burly Kenne r, considering the often brutal and over-zealous trooper barely more than a savage himself. Edge r ton was educated, had a family back in Bismarck, and kept himself scrupulously honest. Kenner, on the other hand, couldn ’ t read, claimed to have a woman waitin g for him at every fort along the Yellowstone, and did everything he felt he could get away with.
    “ There ’ s juice in the tins of fruit on the pack mules.” Barrett continued. “ But Reno said he ’ d shoot anyone who tries to get them. It ’ s only a matter of time. ” No one had the energy to tell him to keep quiet.
    “ They say the Indians drink blood.” Darby finally spoke up, holding his tomahawk so tightly his knuckles whitened.
    “ Plenty of that around here,” Edgerton mumbled.
    “ Yes, there is,” Kenner said with disturbi ng sincerity in his voice.
    The maniacal silence of the night filled their ears for a long time.
    “ You ’ re crazy,” Edgerton finally said.
    “ Ah, the trappings of civilization cling to the very end, don ’ t they?” Barrett looked directly at Edgerton. Edgerton knew that Barrett considered himself well-educated in his own right, but instead of feeling camaraderie for the spectacled man, Edgerton sensed an uneasy competition.
    “ Oh, Lordy, I ’ m almost thirsty enough to do it. I wish I was home.”
    “ Well go home then, Tucke r! It ’ s only a year ’ s walk to Wi s consin,” Kenner snapped.
    “ I ’ d love to try this on the neck of one of them captured Sioux horses.” Darby swung the tomahawk again. “ Bet it ’ d bleed like hell.”
    Barrett licked his dry lips.
    “ Is… is anybody else gonna drink if I do?” Tucker asked.
    “ Shit! I ’ m gonna drink even if you don ’ t.” Kenner grabbed an empty cooking pot from one of the packs.
    “ You ’ re crazy….” Edgerton said, less forcefully now. It felt as if the sun itself burned down his throat.
    The troopers normally killed a wounded horse to put an end to its misery. But since this horse had been owned by a Sioux warrior — a warrior responsible for the deaths of at least two white men — some of the soldiers insisted that the horse be left to die in i ts own long and painful fashion. Several bullets had shattered the animal ’ s spine, and it moved sluggishly with its forelegs, dragging the useless hindquarters behind in a slow madman ’ s trail in the dust. It had finally collapsed near the camp perimeter i n the dying heat of the day, where its bulky body made an effective barrier for the crouching, besieged men.
    Kenner and Darby crept up to the horse, eager with the cooking pot and tomahawk; Tucker, Barrett and Edgerton followed