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Sgt. Braumann watched the new commander prepare for what certainly sounded like an Indian attack even as some riders came rushing toward them at their fastest gallop. They looked like they thought they were being chased by Satan himself, though if one ever got captured by Indians they would show you their devilry at torture. There was a woman among the riders too. He had to give her credit where credit was due, she was a good rider. Meanwhile though the veteran NCO was a bit puzzled by the current orders. Only fifteen men out of this whole command were being told to line up in three lines and prepare for volley fire. Five shots at a time. Braumann was puzzled. Why not present a more formidable skirmish line of forty...fifty men. He'd been in enough firefights with Indians to know that - sad but true - the vast majority of shots the cavalry fired never hit a damn thing. Marksmanship was not a cavalry skill. So to compensate you had to mass as many weapons as possible and pour in the fire. 


"What's he doin?" one of the other troopers asked in a quiet voice, out of the commander's earshot.


"I don't know. Maybe he's keeping all the rest of us ready for a counterattack. Or maybe he's nervous about the Indians coming from other directions too? The army don't pay me to run battles, soldier, just fight in 'em," Braumann commented, for the moment nervous but not reaching for his own carbine, instead just leaning on the saddlehorn of his mount and watching.






On the other hand, Jean Lavalliere had never been in a battle or even a skirmish so he was wide eyed and jumpy. He was so nervous that he was glad he could just sit on his horse near the commander and not have to be one of those firers. He figured his aim would be so shaky right about now  he couldn't hit the broadside of a barn as the Americans say. Merde! He wished he was back in Quebec.





Edited by Wayfarer (see edit history)

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large.Burt-6A.jpg.254c73148b9df45ed6a8b7439b55c05f.jpg"MacIntosh! the scouts ahead, we go before they act!" Ke-Ni-Tay shouted as everything around them evolved into a defensive posture.


MacIntosh wheeled his horse and the two started toward the Commander, "Hostile ahead. We mean to discourage them from doing anything but turin' tail!" He shouted above the confusion of the wagons circling, the drumming of hooves and shouts of the men, and the woman, with their wagons.


With all of the noise and what seemed to be confusion both horses were dancing about wanting to get away. The Apache looked at riders and cattle headed toward the command, full tilt, their dust obscuring what was chasing them, but he did know if it was Indians, they might well split to flank the riders, and seeing the soldiers, turn away at the last minute and dash off into the trees.


Tag @Glenn

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Although she'd never actually been enlisted, of course, Addy had spent plenty of time driving ambulances and freight for the Confederacy, so she was familiar with the ways of the military, and having grown up around harnessed beasts she was fast and capable when it came to unhitching her team and picketing them.


Grabbing her rifle, she took up a position by her wagon, watching as the civilian riders charged past the cavalry lines and into the shelter of the wagons.  While she recognized that there was a woman with them, she hadn't paid attention to faces until she heard a familiar voice.




"Quintin."  Grinning, Addy gave him a nod, then trotted over to grab his horse's reins.  "I'll see ta yer boy here..."  Not that she couldn't face whatever was coming, but as a man, he had a better chance of putting up a formidable resistance.



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About Sagas

Sagas of the WIld West is a roleplaying game set in a fictionalized version of the town of Kalispell in Montana territory. Our stories begin in 1875 and are set against the backdrop of actual historical events.Sagas was inspired by the classic television and movie westerns. Our focus is on writing, storytelling and character development.

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Founders: Stormwolfe & Longshot

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