Page 14 of That Fateful Ride

Cyrus glanced up at the colonel who sat on his big roan stallion, glaring down over him and his nearby men with disdain. The man hadn’t done much other than venture out of his tent and snap orders. Like he’d actually been in the thick of battle.

Different leading skills.

Personally he wouldn’t send his men anywhere he wouldn’t go whereas this colonel had no problems losing men that were sent out ahead to scout or be the first to engage the enemy.

“Sir, yes sir!” He snapped out a salute before turning to head back to where his men were trying to get some rest, the sun had almost retired below the horizon. They’d just been out on the field of battle for five days and this new company were supposed to help give some reprieve.

A reprieve that lasted maybe six hours. If that.

His men had been given one larger tent to crash in. Another way for them to feel expendable.

He pushed into the gloomy interior and stood there for a moment. Snoring filled the air, his men were exhausted and had crashed after getting more than a field ration.

Damn it. I don’t want to do this.

Orders were orders and orders were to be followed.

“Everything okay, sir?”

First Sergeant Wilson stood beside him, his beard sat there scraggly and rough. Uniform hanging off his frame, a testament how this was affecting everyone.

“No, we have to get going.”

“Really sir? We’d been told we were getting twenty-four hours.”

“Colonel Sanderson has decided differently.” He cleared his throat, took another five seconds and called out to the men. “Wake up! We have new orders.”

His men jumped to with swiftness, even bleary eyed they stood straight as if expecting an inspection.

“Get dressed, take a shit all the things. We’re moving out.” He cracked his neck. “Colonel Sanderson wants that hill. And we’re gonna give it to him.”

The hill wasn’t really a hill but more of a cliff. At least on one side. It wasn’t easy to get up or down. The Indians weren’t playing nice but to be fair, they were trying to push them out of their own homes so he got it.

“Yes sir!”

He rubbed the nape of his neck and sighed. A terrible feeling lingered and he did his best to shake it off. He owed it to his men to make sure he was operating at the best possible. Hurrying out, he waved for his horse to be readied.

Not a lot of cover for him or his men to be found. The night was a clear one and the moon, nearly full.

This is not going to go well.

His gut hadn’t let him down yet. Not during the years of avoiding his old man’s fists. When he first enlisted in the army it had saved his life numerous times. And right now, it blatantly informed him whatever he was heading into now, wasn’t going to be easy or end in a good way.

“Your horse sir.”

He didn’t speak, just nodded his thanks before swinging up on the back of his mount. A coal black gelding, the one nice thing from his father. Big, strong, and easy to ride, the horse didn’t have an issue with his size, the horse didn’t tire and also didn’t let but about three people touch him.

His men lined up and in the waning light, their exhaustion obvious, he picked up on their determination and commitment to him. He was proud of them.

“Let’s go, men.”

It went as expected. The hostiles waited for them and the seemingly quiet night soon filled with screams of pain, shots, and shouting through the ranks. Charging up the side on his ride, he slowed at an extremely steep part, his horse blowing hard but ready to carry on if that’s what was asked of him.

It was.

Clucking his tongue, he regripped the reins in his left hand and held the pistol in his right. Tossing his head, the horse surged forward up the most dangerous part of their climb. He didn’t try to guide him, allowing the animal to pick the best way up.

Nearly to the top he fired a shot when someone jumped out at them, spooking his horse. With a yell, the man thrust a spear at the horse’s exposed chest. He pulled the trigger as his mount fell back.

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