Free A Man Called Sunday by Charles G. West Page B

the paint into the water.
    David followed and found the crossing to be much easier than he had anticipated. “Why didn’t the soldiers cross here?” he asked Luke when he drove past him.
    â€œâ€™Cause they’re soldiers, I reckon,” Luke replied. “That’s the same crossin’ they’ve always used. That’s the way soldiers do everythin’.”
    Once his wagon was up on the opposite bank, David called after the scout, now riding back toward the head of the column. “Much obliged.” Grateful to the quiet man for making a crossing that had promised to be difficult much less stressful, David was drawn to observe Luke Sunday more closely during the remaining days of the journey to Fort Fetterman. “He’s a strange one,” David remarked to his wife. “He doesn’t talk very much, to anybody, but when the lieutenant wants to know something, he always asks Sunday, instead of the other one.”
    â€œHe may not be very sociable,” Mary Beth said, “and he looks like a wild Indian, but he certainly came to help us cross that river. I know we don’t know the man very well, but the soldiers seem to trust him.” She paused. “As much as you can trust any drifter, I guess.”
    â€œI was thinking how valuable a man like him might be to come along as a guide to the Yellowstone if the army decides they can send a few soldiers to escort us through the Powder River country. He sure seems to know the land.” He didn’t express it to Mary Beth, but he was really thinking that Lieutenant Findley might have spoken truthfully when he said there would be no troops spared to escort them beyond Fort Fetterman.
    * * *
    The trip back to Fetterman was uneventful as anticipated with the exception of a light snowfall in the Laramie Mountains that added to the already poor conditions of the canyon floors. The layer of snow had to be broken by the cavalry escort before the wagon teams could plow through the frozen slush beneath. The trip of about eighty-five miles from Broken Bow required over a week to complete, two full days of which were spent on the fourteen-mile stretch through the mountain passes. Food rations were depleted when they were still a couple of days short of their destination, but fortunately Luke and Jake tracked a small herd of deer that had sought shelter in a narrow pine-covered ravine. They were lucky enough to kill three of the herd before they scattered up the mountainside. The carcasses were a welcome sight for the hungry soldiers, and Luke made sure to cut a sizable portion of the fresh meat to take to the couple in the farm wagon.
    â€œI thank you for seeing that we got some of this meat,” David Freeman said when Luke walked the venison over to their wagon. Luke merely nodded in reply as he handed the rump portion to him, turning at once to return to his campfire.
    â€œYes, thank you,” Mary Beth called after him. “That was very thoughtful of you, and we appreciate it.” Luke turned long enough to nod in her direction, then continued on his way.
    As he stood beside his wife, holding the generous chunk of venison, David was prompted to chuckle. “He’s a sociable cuss, ain’t he?”
    â€œSometimes I want to shiver when he looks at me,” Mary Beth commented, “with those eyes that look like they’re dead.”
    Her remark reminded David of something he had heard from one of the soldiers and caused him to chuckle once again. “You know what the Crow Indians call him? Dead Man, that’s their name for him.”
    â€œWell, that’s a good name for him. That man frightens me,” Mary Beth said. Then after a moment, she added, “But I’m certainly glad to get the meat.” After another pause, she reflected, “I guess I could have offered him some of our coffee.”
    * * *
    The wagon train rolled into Fort Fetterman in time for supper on