Free Seize the Sky: Son of the Plains-Volume 2 by Terry C. Johnston Page A

me to dinner when we get back home? Mary?”
    She turned, surprised that General Terry had addressed her so directly. “Why, of course, Ginnel. Anytime you say. Anytime you and the Missus wanna have the hens. I’d be much pleased to cook for you.”
    “Maria here is even taking some live sage hens back to the fort with her when she leaves in the morning.”
    “Oh?” Terry glanced at the black woman. “You’re leaving in the morning?”
    “Yessuh.”
    “I’m sending her east with Chawako and his Rees, who are heading back to your Powder River depot, where she can board a supply steamer, taking our mail and dispatches with her to Lincoln. Since the Seventh pulls out in the morning, there’s going to be a lot of mail: letters to family back east … sweethearts and wives. I wouldn’t doubt but there’ll be a lot of greenbacks headed east on that ride too.”
    “Dollars that sutler Coleman didn’t get his hands on yet? Now, that’s hard to imagine!” Terry guffawed with Gibbon and Custer. “That trader can smell a man with a coin in his pocket at fifty paces!”
    “And pick that man’s pocket at ten paces!” Gibbon stated.
    “You certainly know the man, don’t you?” Terry laughed all the harder. “Mary, I will take you up on that offer. When we return to the fort, Custer—you and Libbie must have us over for dinner.”
    “Certainly, sir.”
    “Custer.” Terry cleared his throat, then said, “In all confidence—between the three of us—the plan for this campaign awards you and the Seventh the brunt of the action and hence the lion’s share of the—”
    “Glory, sir?”
    “Why, yes. Nothing short of the glory.”
    “We won’t let you down, General.” Custer pursed his lips beneath the straw mustache.
    “That goes a long way to relieving my anxieties, Custer. In that event I’ll issue your written orders in the morning.” Terry got to his feet as he slipped his campaign hat over his dark hair. “If you have any further questions at that time, we can go over them before you embark on your scout. For now, however, my mind is quite fogged enough as it is. We were at that meeting from near three o’clock until close to sundown! Life at the War Department in Washington City must be quite a bore compared to field action—eh, gentlemen?
    “I plan to rest through the shank of the evening and see you off in the morning. Then I’ll get Gibbon’s outfit squared away and dispatched down the Bighorn to meet with you.”
    “An effective plan, General,” Custer answered, his azure eyes smiling.
    “Custer?” Terry stared at the ground a moment, as if tongue-tied. “One more thing—I’m not all that sure … sure just what to say for the last.”
    That caught Custer completely off-guard. “Say … say whatever you want to say, General.”
    Terry gazed at Gibbon a moment. Gibbon nodded.
    The general sighed before he spoke. “Remember this, Custer: use your own judgment and do what you think best if you strike the trail. If you find my concept for this campaign impractical under the circumstances you encounter, you can change it … accepting full responsibility for varying from my plan, you understand.”
    Custer nodded, a hard smile still crow-footing his eyes with tiny wrinkles.
    “And, Custer—whatever you do—by God, hold onto your wounded. Just hold onto your wounded.”
    “Yes, General.” Custer squinted quickly, his pale blue eyes gazing past Terry to the deepening indigo of the evening sky outside and the first faint splash of the stars spread across the darkening canopy reaching far across the southern horizon. Up the Rosebud. “The wounded … they will be protected. I promise you both that.”
    Gibbon set his hat over his thinning hair and swiped the back of a hand beneath his huge nose as he turned to step out the tent flaps.
    Terry halted at the doorway.
    “Custer, I just may be the last to trust in you.” The general gripped the young officer’s arm paternally. “In