1882: Custer in Chains

Epilog

Sarah walked barefoot through the cool water. Even though the water in the pond only came up to her calves, it was marvelously refreshing. The weather in Maryland this summer morning was seasonably warm and promised to get hot. She had stripped off her outer clothing and enjoyed the play of the breeze against her body.

“You’re beautiful,” said Martin. “Come down to me and we’ll make another baby.” Like Sarah, Martin was dressed in his underclothing. They were far enough away from the main house and hidden by trees and bushes to be unconcerned about privacy.

“Baby number one is only six months old and I am not yet ready for a second. Young Martin Junior is more than enough.” Young Martin’s birth had been difficult and there were serious doubts as to whether they should have another. “And I am truly thankful that Jack and his fiancé are back in the house watching him. I would love to see him change a diaper with only one arm. You have enough trouble with two.”

“We could use one of Doctor Condom’s magic devices,” he pleaded.

“All right,” she relented with a warm smile. She got a condom from her handbag, affixed it to his manhood, and, after a few moments of exquisitely tender foreplay, lowered herself onto his body.

When they were done, she smiled, kissed him gently, and lay beside him. “That was much better than one a pile of blankets or tents,” she said and the two of them laughed. It was their personal joke and they hoped they never stopped thinking it was funny. “Are you still not going to Washington for the dedication?”

“I’ll stay here with you if you don’t mind. The deification of the late George Armstrong Custer is a little too much to stomach. I prefer what Kendrick wrote in his book.”

On the blanket beside them, lay the book in question. The title was “George Armstrong Custer-Fool or Hero” by James Kendrick. The subtitle said that Kendrick had been with Custer from the Little Big Horn to his admittedly tragic death from his wounds in Havana. The book was a runaway best seller and had made a fortune for James Kendrick. He and his Cuban wife were being lionized in New York.

Sarah and Martin agreed with Kendrick’s conclusions regarding Custer. He had been brave to the point of recklessness, but he had not been a fool. He simply had too much confidence in his ability to accomplish any goal. As a result, he had involved the United States in the most controversial war in its history.

Alongside that book was another book. This was a collection of photos by the photographer, William Pywell. The graphic pictures of so many dead and wounded were a further condemnation of the late Custer and what many felt was his unnecessary war. Pywell had even managed to get some clear action shots of soldiers advancing, fighting, and being killed.

An equestrian statue to Custer was to be dedicated on the Mall in front of the Capitol Building. He would be on a mighty stallion and waving a sabre. Some of the critics said that he should be facing backwards since he had been such a horse’s ass. They were in a minority. Most of the country thought he was a hero and a martyr, although a deeply flawed one.

Libbie Custer would be there along with many in the government including President Chester Arthur. Libbie had become a recluse and a gaunt and graying shadow of her once dynamic self. She clearly blamed her husband’s death on her machinations on his behalf. Some of her friends thought she was losing her mind. After the ceremony she would return to her home in Monroe, Michigan.

When Martin resigned his commission, he had almost totally severed himself from the army. As he’d explained to Sarah, the army would contract in size and he would once again be either a captain or, if the army threw him a bone, a major. He would then be doomed to spending the next twenty years in crude frontier outposts, all the while begging for promotion to lieutenant colonel. Sarah said she would go wherever he went, but he would not burden her with that kind of life. No, his military career was over. As he told her and anyone else who asked, it had been wonderful being a general, but he would never again achieve that rank. Nelson Miles was the army’s commanding general.

As her husband, Martin was learning the ins and outs of her business investments and finding that he was as good at it as she. They would be good partners in commerce as well as in bed.

The loss of so many good men in Cuba was a constant source of sadness and disgust. Almost two thousand Americans had died in combat and another five thousand were in their graves as a result of the fevers that finally struck both armies with savage ferocity. Nor did the fever respect rank. Hancock had died, along with Benteen and Crooks. Even so, there would still not be openings for a too-young brigadier in a shrunken army. Seniority would again rule.

One result of the devastating disease was that Cuba was virtually unoccupied by the American military. The Cubans had won. The United States had taken Hawaii as a consolation prize and had purchased the Philippines from Spain for a nominal sum. Martin and many others wondered if this had been a wise decision.

“Martin, I did tell you that Ruta and her stable boy lover were coming over this evening, didn’t I?”

Martin guffawed. Haney and Ruta would never commit to being married. They had made that abundantly clear. He had a job allegedly administering her horses. This gave him a cottage on her property and access to the main house anytime they wished and to hell with what anyone else thought.

“Sarah, this is not a bad life. Perhaps we should spend the rest of the day here and make love a few more times.”

“Perhaps indeed,” she said with a smile as she watched the clouds move majestically overhead. The clouds were white and fluffy. There were no storm clouds on the horizon. At least not yet.