Chapter 7

As was my usual routine, I checked to be sure all of the Comanches were dead, took the scalps, and checked each one to see if there was anything that I could use. Unfortunately, there was no easy way for me to get rid of the bodies, so I had to leave them where they were. I hoped that the scavengers would clean up the mess I made.

As for the horses, I figured that they could find their own way home or else join a wild herd. There certainly was no way that I could deal with them and continue my mission.

It was pretty late in the day by the time I finished everything that I needed to do, so I just rode to the nearest waterhole to camp for the night. I was not worried about Comanches sneaking up on me after dark. The Comanches always operated in the daytime so that other people could see and admire their bravery and skill in war. I always slept good the nights that I was in Comancheria.

I had just finished cleaning up after breakfast when I spotted a big dust cloud farther to the southeast. That usually meant a lot of horses were moving somewhere, and those horses usually had riders—that meant a lot of Comanches traveling from one place to another. Also, it meant a lot of Comanche warriors, because no female Comanche ever rode a horse, though some older women did ride on travois when they were not able to keep up by walking.

I really got interested when that dust cloud seemed to be headed in my direction, and it was moving at a fast clip. That likely meant trouble for somebody, and I needed to take a good look at what was going on. I headed in the general direction of the dust cloud, but the ground was so broken that I had to make some wide loops. The people making the dust cloud also had to make similar wide loops, so I did have to pay attention to make sure that I did not run afoul of outriders.

There had to be a good 40-50 Comanche warriors to make that much dust, and there was no way that I could win a fight with that kind of odds against me. I might survive 20:1 odds, but no way was I going to win a solo fight with 40 or more Comanches. With that in mind, I kept a very low profile as I neared the riders.

Oh, my God, there had to be up to 100 warriors in that mob! I had to know where they were headed, so I let them pass me before I swung in behind them. I rode as close as I thought was safe to the tail end of that cloud of dust. At least, that many Comanches were not going to sneak away from me.

Uh-oh, again. There was a rider approaching me from behind. I ducked behind some rocks and let him catch up to me. He was a Dragoon. Thank God the Army was on the ball and was doing the right thing. As soon as I recognized the man as a Dragoon, I called out. “HEY, SOLDIER, WAIT FOR ME, IF YOU PLEASE! I AM ALSO FOLLOWING THOSE COMANCHES, AND MAYBE WE CAN HELP EACH OTHER!”

He pulled up and waited for me. “Hello, I see that you are a Dragoon and not one of them highfalutin’ cavalry types. I am Jimmy Scott, and I love to kill those damned Comanches.”

“Howdy, Mr. Scott? I am Pvt. Asa Williams. I am a scout for the 18^th Dragoons who are a few miles behind me. I can use all of the help that I can get. Just call me Asa.”

“Okay, Asa, you just call me Jimmy. Any idea where them Comanches are headed?”

“Not on your tintype. All the captain knows is that many Comanches cannot be up to no good. Sgt. Mayberry sent me out to see what was going on, and I suspect that you already know more about them heathens than I do. Is there anything what you can tell me?”

“All I know for sure is that I estimate there to be about 100 warriors, and they are armed with both bows and lances. To me, that means that they are headed for a serious fight.”

“Oh, shit! Yeah, I suspect that you are correct. Well, let us keep after them at least until we know what they have in mind. At least, that dust cloud will keep them from catching anybody by surprise.”

We had gone less than a mile when we came to a pretty decent road. I swear that there were more wagon tracks on the road than I would have figured possible. It had to be a passel of wagons in that train.

We noticed that the dust cloud suddenly took a sharp turn to the left. The Comanches had crossed the road and kept going the way they were headed, but they had made that sudden turn. A scout must have reported that wagon train, and the Comanches were treating it as a wonderful target of opportunity. The dust cloud had suddenly gotten much heavier as if the horses were now traveling faster.

We followed the parade for about two miles and we started to hear gunfire. It was kind of spotty, and I wondered why there was not more shooting. Asa commented, “I wonder who that is doing the shooting. It does not sound like a regular Army contingent.”

There was a ridge off to our right that should give us a good view of what was going on, so we stopped and dismounted. Neither one of us was foolish enough to ride a horse to the crest of the ridge line—that would have made us stand out to the Injuns. Asa took his rifle and I took my shotgun. I did not expect to have a use for the shotgun, but there was no point in taking a silly chance.

We approached the ridge line and removed our hats. A hat, even in silhouette, still looks like a hat, and we did not want to advertise our presence until we knew what was going on.

By the time we got into position, the wagons had formed the usual defensive rectangle favored by the Army, and the Comanches were riding around the wagons looking for a weak point. My God, we were a lot closer to the fight than we had realized! The ridge must have deflected the sounds of the gun shots so that they seemed much farther away than they really were.

We were only about 150 yards from the nearest wagons, and the Comanches were much closer than that as they rode around the wagons. I did not think that they were within effective range of my shotgun, but they certainly were within range of my pistols, considering my usual luck when it came to shooting at Comanches.

Asa said, “That looks like a supply train that should be headed for Fort Ripley. How in the hell did they wind up so far south?”

Well, I had no answer for that, but I knew how easy it was to get lost in this country, so they could well have taken a wrong turn in the road and wound up here.

Asa then said, “Oh, my God, no wonder they are doing such a terrible job of laying down fire. Those are artillery men and not regular troopers. Those guys are such poor shots that they could not hit a barn if they were standing inside. Rumor had it that some artillery was headed our way, and this must be it. Well, I have got to report this as soon as possible. I will have to leave you now and head back to my unit. Hopefully, we can get back with help before the battle is over.” With that, Asa hurried back to his horse, mounted, and set out at a dead run to report what he had seen.

Well, that left me at kind of loose ends. Sure, I could shoot at the Comanches with my pistols, but I was not sure how much good I could do. On the other hand, I could not bring myself to abandon the soldiers down there to their fate, which would be a very painful death if the Comanches had their way.

Dammit, who was I kidding? I took out one of my pistols and aimed at a Comanche as he rode by. This shot was especially difficult because I was going to have to lead the target, but I did not know by how much. Oh, well, I never would know if I did not give it a try. I concentrated on the target and fired. Okay, I had a good marker in the bloody streak my bullet left on the back of the Comanche.

I made a slight adjustment in how much I led my target and fired again at another man. This time, the bullet hit him in the side, and he fell from his horse. The Comanches were kind of bunched as they rode around the wagons, and another horse tripped as it tried to avoid stepping on the fallen Comanche. That tossed his rider, and neither of the two men moved after they hit the ground.

As usual, my luck was showing, and there was a little breeze blowing, enough to dissipate the powder smoke, so there was no obvious marker of where I was shooting from. On the other hand, I would have to move soon to keep from building up a pile of bodies in front of my position. That would be as obvious a pointer to my location as would be the powder smoke. I figured that I had three or four more shots left before I needed to move.

I fired four more times and three more Comanches fell from their horses. I was sure that it was the fall and not my bullet that was killing the warriors, but that was a detail of no importance. It was the death that was important, not how it happened.

I figured that was enough and backed down off the crest of the ridge. I moved about 50 feet to my right and climbed back to the crest. This time I emptied the pistol before I moved. I got five out of six effective shots that time, and I was happy. I moved again, but I replaced the empty cylinders in my revolvers before I resumed shooting. This time, I was only sure of four kills. The ridge was moving away from the wagons at this point, so I was going to have to retrace my steps before I could shoot again with any degree of confidence.

This was when I realized that I needed to reload the empty cylinders. I needed all of the bullets I could manage if the Comanches charged me. That was not likely because they would have to dismount and leave their horses at the bottom of the ridge, but it was something that I could not take a chance on.

I am not sure of the details, but while I was reloading my cylinders, the fighting at the wagons tapered off, and the Comanches withdrew. I have no idea how many Comanches or soldiers were killed or wounded during the attack, but there were a lot of Comanche bodies littering the battlefield. Undoubtedly, the Comanches would be back to collect them after the wagons moved on.

The Dragoons that Asa had left to fetch never showed up while I was there, so I cannot say what happened with them, either. Oh, well, life always has a lot of unanswered questions. I was running very late on my mission to scout the territory, so I did not bother to go to the Army wagons. I just left to continue trying to understand what the Comanches were planning for us.

I did not see any more Comanches as I continued my mission, but I did see where several large bands had camped. I considered myself lucky to miss running into any of them. I probably would not have escaped. Maybe that was what happened to Asa on his way back to his Army unit.