dart from the officer to Kohn and back. Molloy again goes under his coat and this time comes out with his half-full bottle of whiskey. “Take a sup, sir,” he says to Glover. “A balm for the senses.”
“I am not fit for a drink, sir.”
“Take one.” Molloy smiles, beatific, kindness embodied. A smile that saps Kohn’s sudden rage. How can he hate the man? Because he loves him. Like a father. Shallow, wicked and weak. Damned. Like a father. Curse him. Zol er krenken un gedenken.
“Leave us, Kohn. We will only be a moment. A small sup and some easy words between us.” Molloy pats the photographer on the knee.
Kohn throws back the tent flaps and leaves. Zol er krenken un gedenken. Let him suffer and remember. He is unsure himself whether he means Molloy or the photographer. Both, most probably, goddamn them.
34
OUR 1ST PROPER SCRAP WITH MR. LO
IT WAS THE NEXT DAY AFTER OUR 1ST VISIT TO KINNEY’S hog ranch in August or maybe the day after when we did ride out in chase of some Indians under the command of Mad Capt. Brown the Q.M. & chief scalp hunter among us here at Ft. Phil. It does be important I reckon to tell you about it Sir for it gives you maybe some notion of what our days were like. For bloody days did have their sway on our conduct in the night especially the night we will come to soon in this testament.
Well this day had its start after a cutting detail in the Pinery as we returned to the Ft. in escort to the woodtrain. The mountains were purple with the late afternoon light upon them & the Little Piney creek was burbling joyous & everclear & sweet the grasses of the Valley bending to the breeze when out came the Q.M. thundering from the main gate with 8 or 10 other boys in saddle. Seeing the brace of us O’Driscoll brothers he let out a roar for us to follow him & follow him we did for we would follow that fellow to Hell just to see what he might do there.
One of the boys told us as we rode that Red Cloud’s Braves just some minutes before cut down a civilian drover & his mate & ran their oxen from the grazing south of the Ft. He is a fierce clever b______ Mr. Lo I recall thinking. We put our main guard to the woodtrain & while we did he blaggarded us & took the oxen instead from the unguarded grazing.
We did double back along the hilltop road whence we just came & I was glad to have my rifle & my pistols primed & readied. We carried two Navy Colts & already we were of a mind to save a last bullet for ourselves in case the jig was up & we were to be taken captive by the Sioux for it is said there is no worse fate on this Earth for a white man than to be taken alive by the savages. It was only talk then but we did see it with our own eyes since but Mr. Lo will do things to you for sport that the Devil would not do in a day’s work.
But none of this we were picturing as we rode in pursuit of the Indians them having a good head start on us. Instead we were thinking only, “Thank God we did not miss the chance for to go out on this old rumble!” Never did it come to my mind as we galloped across the grass & up higher into the Western hills that I might be struck down dead or scalped or gelded by the red savages we chased for soldiers do not think in such a way when the blood is hot. They think only of doing that which they are paid for & that which will give a jump to his black soldier’s heart & that is scrapping. For though my brother & myself did come to rue the War Between The States at its end (my brother especially & no wonder with his injuries) well there was something in us still that was joyful for the chance to fight. Perhaps it is in all men or perhaps more so in Irishmen but every American boy or Olive Oiler or Dutchy German I ever met in Union blue or Sesesh grey well every D___ one of them nearly did come alive