Race to Rebel Creek

      A horse was essential out here simply because how d***ed far everything was from everything else.

           Lieutenant Nathaniel James Beaty kicked up his horse to a brief trot to catch up with his companions. Despite the official rank given to him by the State of ________, he was actually a junior member of the group as this war party had no army to command. 22 officers and NCOs moving incognito across the scorching hot prairies into the far west in hopes of raising a rebellion among the disgruntled Americans and Indians alike beyond the plains. Their hubris was shown by how their leader was made a colonel of a regiment that not only did not exist but was to be recruited from people still under the Union yoke.

The trip there was the least of their worries as there was nothing but rolling hills of grass as tall as a man in this part of the world, although the occasional cabin by the sides of rivers and creeks showed how this was a newly settled region upon the outbreak of the war. Beyond there was the Great River and expansive plains full of Indian nations hostile to the Union and the occasional undermanned Union fort on the trails. Union control was believed to have collapsed in much of the plains due to the war. As one Indian chief put it, “How could the Great Father prevent his Red Children from fighting if he cannot keep his White Children from fighting?”

The rumors and the general lack of any loyalties were the reason behind the vagueness of this war party’s plans, who were now trudging single file through a rocky creek. The steep dirt slopes were a real danger to the horses who could fall and in some places, the slopes were not even climbable by a man without equipment. The largely featureless and repetitive terrain of the prairies is what made people not apt to live in one place versus another and there were no real towns anywhere south of the rail terminus in this land called Quivira. Even so, the buffs and gulleys made traveling in a straight line impossible and the risk of losing vital personal effects was real.

Nathaniel himself had mixed feelings about the war like everyone else. What he had not told anyone when joining this party was he had actually been in the Quivira cavalry too and had left more because of arguments with his immediate compatriots than anything else. For that same reason, Nathaniel also did not like how men were allowed to recruit and lead their own companies because he had seen how it allowed uneducated and dishonest men to rise to command. Allegedly, one of John Brown’s bandit friends was a captain somewhere in Quivira. However, in this case, it was impossible to work otherwise due to the distances involved and the State of _______ would not be able to rightly give orders once across the Great River.

The trouble in the land they were crossing at the moment was that simply no one knew anything about it. It was populated by a mix of homesteaders and friendly Indians who worked the fur trade, all of whom arrived in this place within living memory. These Indians appeared friendly to both sides, which was likely while some of them went south to join the Confederacy and others were in Union service. It was said a fair amount of the militia here were white men under Indian chiefs and they all freely comingled in the same villages. There was a Union militia somewhere out here, these guys had fought in the State of _______ before, but now Nathaniel wondered where these guys were even coming from because they had not seen a living soul since leaving their home state. Many of the frontiersmen were just people who wanted to be left alone, however. The defensive plan was to simply leave them alone.

Nathaniel called out to the major in front of him “How far is it to freshwater?”

Major Jones replied “Half a day’s ride to the Cuivre River northwest.”

The name struck Nathaniel as strange. That was not the first time a place out here with a French name. Did the French really get out this far before the Louisiana Purchase? That could not be the case, because the nearest town founded by the New Orleans colony was St. Louis, all the way on the other side of a warzone and there was no civilization at all in these parts.

Suddenly, in the way the grass and terrain kept them out of sight until 100 yards away, a band of four red-skinned men was waving them down and approaching. The custom on the frontier was to speak to all strangers on the road not just for the safety of communities but for vital news that has no other means of traveling. These Indians appeared relaxed and oddly enough one of them carried a rifled musket and another had an old but well-maintained Charleville musket while the other two simply had bows and their clothes appeared to be long blankets folded over them in a bit of a tunic. As they approached Nathaniel wondered if there would be an impromptu sign language attempt.

The leader of the party addressed them in English: “Good day to you. We do not get many strangers around here, how goes the world?”

Nathaniel now seriously regretted how four of his party had on gray coats, but to be fair these were also the only jackets they owned. The colonel, having planned this ahead of time, said they were Quivira mounted militia returning from a raid. The Indian said it was curious he did not recognize him. He said his friends were just out here hunting small game but their job was also to keep this land under surveillance. Nethaniel and everyone else suppressed any reaction, but Nethaniel could tell all men present understood the problem. The Indian was now talking to his friends in some native tongue positively sibilant to them, and after a full minute said they’d guide and escort their party to the railroad terminus.

This kind of mortal tension was too much for any sane mind to bear. Without a word spoken, Major Jones drew his pistol and fired possibly hitting the Indian’s horse but startling all horses present. The Indians exclaimed something and Nathaniel frantically tried pulling out his rifle from his saddle only to kick up his horse to follow the party now chasing after the Indians so they could not raise the alarm.

That ended a few minutes later when the Indians climbed up a steep buff and the whole party saw an entire encampment up there. The colonel turned and said “Make a run for it, boys! See you at Great River!” The whole party turned tail and ran southwest at full gallop and mounted Indians and war whoops could be heard behind them. Several gunshots were heard as they ran across the prairies and after several minutes several of the party whose horses were faster paused on a rise to let the others catch up and to let loose a few shots at the Indians. Nathaniel caught up to them and finally managed to get his rifle out of his saddle, but this was enough time for someone in American clothes to flank them on the left.

This went on for hours across the prairie and was so frantic that Nathaniel did not notice two of their number gone until later. Soon they found this wooded creek bed that they ran down for cover, but the Indians did not lose track of them. Movement down this creek was slower but offered protection from bullets until they reached the mouth of the creek apparently in the Cuivre. The lead of the party nearly fell down into a ten-foot drop with the river’s steep mud embankments. They all dismounted and used the river’s banks as a fighting position. This was easier said than done, as the spot Nathaniel chose immediately collapsed under his weight and he fell into the river hoping his powder was not ruined. Nathaniel thought he was going to have a heart attack from the heat, exertion, and the panic of almost dying a dozen times in an afternoon.

Shots rang out, and Nathaniel crawled up to the edge of the embankment and fired at an Indian who was also approaching under cover. He ducked his head under to reload, and in the frantic noise of the battle he distinctly heard word Nathaniel only understood due to his college days; “Faites le tour et coupez-les de l’autre côté de la rivière!” He peeked around and saw the man who spoke it not 15 yards away and their eyes met. It was an old man, a tall man on horseback, and it was a white man in Indian clothes. That man aimed at Nathaniel who ducked just in time to get dirt sprayed in his face.

The Indians were flanking, as now they were in the river banks on either side and there was no significant cover from those directions except what thornbushes offered. His compatriot Lieutenant Barnes next to him was taking a white handkerchief and waving it to surrender, but this was ignored by Indians who deliberately aimed and shot him in the chest. Nathaniel turned intending to swim the river but found he could touch the bottom. He got his boot stuck in mud that was probably heavy clay and dunked his head under the murky water to deal with it without being shot. His foot left the boot before the boot moved out of the mud, and he simply left it there, rising from the water shearing the yells of dying men.

Other men who had also crossed the river streamed the water with their blood and lost too much to climb the opposite banks. Nathaniel did not see who had died and who had escaped and was not waiting around to find out. In a small wood across the river, Nathaniel found Lieutenant Davids whom he had never gotten to know well, and together they just kept on running. They no longer heard the Indians behind them but ran as fast as their exhaustion would let them. They ran past nightfall and did not stop until Nathaniel tripped, fell, and passed out. In the morning he would wake up to find Davids had enough strength to pull him into some bushes before resting himself.

Their mission was over, and these two men would never be seen or heard from again in Quivira.