Dragons Teeth Crichton 2017 (WWT)

Incidents on the Plains
In the middle of the still hot afternoon, Johnson was riding alongside Cope, talking quite peaceably
to him, when his hat suddenly flew away in the air, although there was no wind.
A moment later they heard the snapping report of a long rifle. Then another, and another.
Someone was shooting at them.
“Down!” Cope shouted. “Down!”
They dismounted and ducked for cover, crawling beneath the wagon. In the distance they could see
a brown swirling dust cloud.
“Oh God,” Isaac whispered. “Indians.”
The distant cloud grew in size, resolving into many silhouetted horsemen. More bullets whizzed
through the air; the fabric of the wagon ripped; bullets spanged off pots and pans. Bessie brayed in
alarm.
“We’re done for,” Morton moaned.
“Any minute now we’ll hear those arrows whistling,” Isaac said, “and then, when they get closer,
out come the tomahawks—”
“Shut up!” Cope said. He had never taken his eyes off the cloud. “They’re not Indians.”
“Damn if you’re not a bigger fool than I thought you were! Who else’d be—”
Isaac fell silent. The cloud was now close enough that they could resolve the riders into individual
figures. Blue-coated figures.
“Might still be red men,” Isaac said. “Wearing Custer’s jackets. For a surprise attack.”
“Not much surprise if they are.”
Little Wind squinted at the horizon. “Not Indians,” he pronounced finally. “Saddle ponies.”
“Damn!” Cookie shouted. “The army! My boys in blue!” He leapt up shouting, waving his hands. A
fusillade of lead sent him diving back beneath the wagon.
The army horsemen rode around the wagon, whooping Indian-style, firing their pistols into the air.
Finally, they stopped, and a young captain pulled up, his horse snorting. He aimed his revolver at the
figures huddled beneath the wagon.
“Out, you slime. Out! By God, I’ve a mind to finish you right here, every last man of you.”
Cope emerged, purple with fury. His fists were clenched at his sides. “I demand to know the
meaning of this outrage.”
“You’ll know it in hell, you blackguard,” the army captain said, and he shot twice at Cope, but his
rearing horse threw off his aim.
“Wait, Cap’n,” one of the soldiers said. By now Cope’s party had all crawled from beneath the