Ghost Soldier Part 1
He was there, He told me so!
On that cloudy morning a few years ago,
When a shaft of light from the Montana sky
Fell on his grave and caught my eye.
The raindrops that fell as if tears from the sky
Were quickly absorbed by the earth where he lie.
And he told me, He did, in his very own words
Of those days on the trail and his last day on earth.
"Dust, dust--- two, three or is it four days of this damned cussed dust. It seemed
an eternity since we left the Rosebud. Why the urgency it was beyond me, but
when it came to the Indian Custer seemed to have a special mission known only
to himself.
Push, push, they just kept on pushing us. The horses were caked and white with
the infernal dust. Even my neckerchief failed to keep the dust from my lungs. I
was fighting for breath when a halt was called. As I stepped down a lizard
skittered away from the rock where he had been sunning himself. I looked at
Tom as he loosened the girth on his saddle trying to give his horse a breather. It
was laboring for air and blood was in evidence in the foam at the corner of his
mouth. It had been in a battle the month before and was issued to Tom as a
replacement for his lame animal. This poor animal wasn’t going to make it much
farther.
I looked at my horse and decided I’d better check him over while I had a chance.
He’d been there for me last month as we raced away from a group of renegades
trying to lift our scalps. When it comes down to life and death all we have are
each other. I gave him some grain and a much needed but sparse drink. Our
supplies were following a safe distance behind us, so all we had were saddle
rations. The spring grass was just beginning to work it’s way thru the earth
towards the warming rays of the sun. The nights still held the winter chill and yet
the days seemed insufferably hot. Such a contrast this land presented. You
either froze to death or you were burned and blistered as if in the fires of hell.
I brushed the damned sand from Poker and checked each hoof for damage. It
was hard to tell where we’d be next, traveling ankle deep in sand or slipping and
sliding our way over the loose rocky ground. Satisfied my mount was taken care
of I removed my neckerchief and dipped it into the few drops of precious water
Poker couldn’t get. Even it was hot to the touch. The only relief was the cooling
breeze as it immediately absorbed the moisture from my skin.
Copyright © Marycile Beer | Year Posted 2007
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