Cody, astride a powerful horse, was well in advance of the other would-be rescuers, so far in front that upon rounding the hill he nearly ran headlong into the leading warrior, a young man sporting a magnificent headdress so long its feathers nearly trailed on the ground.

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Cody and the lone Cheyenne fired at each other almost simultaneously, Cody using his Winchester carbine and the Indian replying with a heavy revolver. Cody’s aim was better: his first shot passed through his opponent’s leg and killed the pony he was riding.

At that moment Cody’s own horse stumbled in a prairie dog hole, pitching Bill headlong to the ground. The scout scrambled up in an instant, just as his wounded opponent sent another bullet whizzing past his ear. Kneeling, Cody took careful aim and fired his second shot, one that hit the young Cheyenne square in the face and dropped him dead on the brown prairie grass.

While Cody’s companions scattered the other six Cheyenne, he ran forward with a bowie knife and stripped the scalp of his dead foe. He later recalled that, swinging the grisly trophy above his head, he cried out in triumph, ‘The first scalp for Custer!’ And perhaps he did, though no one else on the field that day ever recalled his dramatic oratory afterward.

The warriors still straggling up from the rear began surging forward to see what all the shooting was about. Companies B, I and K of the 5th broke cover, formed line abreast and charged directly toward the oncoming Cheyenne, bugles blaring. The Indians, whose numbers were far, far less than the rumored 1,000, immediately turned and fled in the opposite direction, back toward the Spotted Tail Agency. In their flight, they abandoned blankets and provisions.

The three companies pursued only a short distance, never coming close enough to fire a single shot at their retreating enemy. The 5th’s sole casualty that day came when a horse tumbled down an embankment, leaving a trooper named Jeffers badly bruised. Later, Merritt led the whole command along the trail of the fugitives, stopping only when he felt assured that all the Cheyenne were back within the confines of the agency. The fight at Warbonnet Creek, such as it was, had ended.

Shortly thereafter, the 5th was sent north to reinforce Crook, but not before Merritt had submitted a lengthy report of his campaign to Washington. Of the actual fighting, Merritt said only ‘…a party of seven Indians were discovered near the command, moving with the intention of cutting off two couriers who were approaching from Sage Creek. A party was sent out to cut these off, killing one of them….’

Carr, stilling smarting over the loss of his command, was disgusted with the whole business. He later wrote of his astonishment at seeing such a long report made about what was essentially nothing, recalling, ‘There were not over 30 Indians in sight at any one time, and we had over 400 men.’ The 5th’s total victory spoils amounted to one dead Cheyenne, a dozen ponies and a few sacks of flour.

Back East, people saw things much differently. The triumph at Warbonnet Creek was glorious, a just revenge on treacherous savages. Newspapers played up Cody’s accomplishment; the New York Herald, for instance, filled nearly a column with news of the faraway event. And for Easterners eager to learn more of the thrilling combat, Little Bat Garnier was able to add a few choice details: The dead Indian was Yellow Hand, an important chief of the Cheyenne; his death at the hands of Cody was enough to make all the other hostiles turn tail and run. Alas for history, Garnier was not one to let the truth stand in the way of a good yarn. Cody’s victim was in truth Hay-o-wei, a name which translates as Yellow Hair, so called for a blond scalp he had once taken. Yellow Hair was the son of a chief named Cut Nose, but was himself of no particular importance–that is, not until he had the questionable luck to be killed by Buffalo Bill Cody, thereby instantly becoming a legend.

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