They jogged onward in the eerie brilliance
of moonlight and starshine, breaking the stillness with the chop of hoofs, the
rustling creak of leather, jingling bridles and clinking metal, the grunt of
horses and the breathing of men. Alkali dust spiraled up, and shod hoofs struck
occasional sparks off the stones. A coyote howled sorrowfully and was answered
from afar. An owl hooted and then another. When Raven halted the column, they could
hear the faint stir and scrape of small earth creatures. The air smelled of
blistered sand and rock, greasewood, sage, and once in a while the pure breath
of pines.
My first by this author, and a curious one for me.
That opening selection is typical of the excellent renderings of scenery and
the punishing feel of conducting campaigns in such conditions.
Yet, most all else is a fairly rote cavalry tale related
almost indifferently, that is, compared with the skill shown in the “Men in landscape”
sections.
The author shows such skill in some sections, and then
seems rushed and detail skipping on others.
Most curious in that the demerits are not from lack of
ability.
Not at all.
Another selection.
The sun soared higher in the molten blue,
and the heat became barbarous, brutal in its intensity. Drenched in sweat,
silted Confederate gray with dust, the column toiled on across the barren
broken plains of Hellsgate toward the principal range of the Osages. Girths
frothed white, saddle-leather scorched through uniform pants, rifle barrels
burned the most calloused palms. Lips were parched and split to the texture of
scar tissue, each lower one with its central gash, eased only by leaves of
chewing tobacco. Eyes sank ever deeper into blackened, hollow-cheeked skulls of
faces. Misery grew in the harassed ranks until death seemed almost welcome, if
it could come in one quick flash.
Again, the land lives and breathes in a way that the
people within do not.
Most curious.
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