Chapter 25

Ed Burleson drove us hard, wanting to get there before the fight started. “I’ll tell you, Jake,” he said, “whoever is in charge will need a curb bit to rein in Jack Hays and his bunch of fire-eaters!”

“He’s the Ranger captain?” I asked, wanting to be sure.

“He is, and a warrior from who flung the chunk! I don’t reckon you’ve heard much about him, but he’s related to Andy Jackson and a personal friend of Sam Houston. Got an Apache named Flacco that rides with him and leads the charge, which naturally makes that bunch of kids try harder!”

“An Apache?” I asked, surprised. “If he’s a chief, wouldn’t he be back with his tribe?”

“A body would think so,” Ed agreed. “Maybe he used to be a chief. The title don’t mean all that much, ‘cause tribes swap chiefs whenever they figure the current one has lost his medicine. But Flacco’s not the only Indian riding with Jack Hays. Placido is a Tonkawa and a real chief, because he’s head of Jack’s scouts. Thirteen of them there are, and they figure the sun comes up because Jack gives his okay every morning, but the main reason they’re there is because they purely hate the Comanches.”

“Hays sounds like my kind of Texan,” I ventured. “After what I saw in Linnville, I reckon it’s time we made the Comanches understand that Texans ain’t Mexicans. Not that I’m blaming them for what they did, them not having as many people or as many soldiers back then as we do now. But we’ve got families to protect and if doing that means clearing every last Comanche out of Texas, then I reckon it’s time we got to it.”

“It’s likely that you’ll get your chance, Jake,” Ed said. “How are your men shaping up?”

“About like you’d figure, Ed; they’re here, and they’ll do their duty. I wouldn’t call ‘em fire-eaters, because they’re not eager, but they’ve got a determination about ‘em that makes me figure they’ll keep on fighting as long as they’ve got a bullet left. And after that they’ll go at ‘em with knives.”

“They’re a mite older than the rangers,” Ed observed, “but that means they’re steadier, and they’ll think before goin’ sky-hootin’ off after every Indian they see. One of these days, those rangers are going to bite off more than they can chew, but I wouldn’t expect that of your volunteers. Thing is, I know most of those men personally, Jake. They’ll do, and speakin’ of them, you’d better be getting back because we’ll be moving out directly.”

After I got back, I met with Jean-Louis and the first sergeant the men had elected to pass on what Ed had told me. “Gus?” I was surprised! “I didn’t expect to see you here, but I’m glad you made it. I was a mite worried.”

“They come sniffin’ around,” Gus grinned, “but I sicced m’ dogs on ‘em! It’s one thing for them to scare off one of their dogs, but my bear dogs didn’t pay ‘em no mind! They went right for the hind legs on their horses, figuring to cripple ‘em like they would a bear, and them Comanches skedaddled!”

I chuckled. “Ed says we’ll be moving out directly, so I’ll depend on you to keep our men closed up.”

“I got a question for you, Captain,” Gus said. “You like eating the dust of that Bastrop bunch?”

“Not particularly,” I offered. “Why do you ask?”

“I can have the men mount up right now,” Gus said, “and we could move out without waiting on Ed. Ain’t like we don’t know where we’re going, ‘cause the Comanches left a trail a blind man could follow!”

I looked at Jean-Louis and he grinned at me, so I nodded to Gus. “Mount the troop, First Sergeant.”

Ed’s Bastrop boys frowned a lot when we rode past, but I saw Ed trying to keep from grinning. He put his hand down where his men wouldn’t see and gave me a little wave, so I knowed he wasn’t mad at me for jumping the gun.

We were all tired by the time the shadows got long, but when that Indian stepped out from behind a tree, I heard the click behind me of rifles being cocked. I put my arms up and waved them to the side, wanting the men to move up in line abreast so they wouldn’t shoot me by mistake. That was when that Indian started yelling. “Me Tonkaway! Me Tonkaway!” And before you could say scat, he was back behind his tree.

“Jean-Louis, send two men ahead to check,” I said. “The rest of us will deploy into line and be ready if they run into trouble.” I felt kind of proud that I remembered that. Hang around the army long enough and most anybody learns how to talk their language! Jean-Louis nodded at one of the men near the front and the two of them took off for where that Indian had been. I was only a little surprised, and it didn’t last long. I should have figured that Jean-Louis would want to be out in front! I never had figured out which Lafitte he was related to, but from what I’d heard none of them was backward when it came to fighting!

The Indian was indeed a Tonkawa, and a scout for Jack Hays’ Rangers. He led us to where they were resting and we dismounted, ready for a break ourselves. Hays offered me a cup of coffee that I was glad to get, and after I introduced Jean-Louis and Gus, one of the rangers brought them coffee too.

“I’ll need the cups back when you’re finished, Captain,” he said. “They belong to the men.” I nodded and asked him to thank the owners. We had time to finish our coffee and they didn’t exactly hurry us, but the fires were being put out before we were done and we knew what that meant. Five minutes later, we were mounted.

Hays’ troop didn’t need to be told what to do. They gigged their mounts into an extended lope, so we did too and were back to eating dust. The horses had doubtless expected more of a rest, but nobody had asked them and spurs were a powerful argument when one tried to balk.

Two hours later, I heard a boom from up ahead.

Jack Hays wasted no time. “At them, men!” He yelled something after that about teaching them to respect Texians, but I doubt anyone heard it, including him. Racing hooves drowned him out and suddenly he realized that if he intended to lead his men into battle, he’d better get cracking! Which reminded me that we’d come to fight, not just ride across the country. I looked around and saw only determined faces, so I waved my revolver over my head and gigged my horse.

Good thing I did, otherwise they would have run right over me!

I thought to check my horse when I saw the body of a white woman, but she was beyond help. A bloody patch above her slack forehead showed that they’d taken the time after killing her to collect her scalp.

I had been a tad nervous up to that time. Now, that went away and I felt a killing rage rise up to take its place. I vowed right then I’d collect a few Comanche scalps myself. Part of me knowed that being dead, he wouldn’t feel it. But if it sent a message to the rest, letting them know that for Texians it was war to the knife, they just might know a little of how I felt.

I ‘spect I wasn’t the only one, and when we spotted that dead child, scalped, and with an arrow buried to the feathers in his crumpled little body, it only made the men madder. But we were worried too, because it meant that the Comanches knowed we were closing in on them.

And they had begun killing their captives, rather than chance us rescuing them. Right after that, I started seeing horses standing or trotting away and it gave me an idea. “Jean-Louis! Help me stop the men!” I yelled. I had to do it again before he understood, and he gave me a look of utter astonishment. “Our horses are nearly blown,” I explained, “but the ones we’re seeing are fresh! Get Gus to help you and start the men to switching mounts!”

He understood then, and within fifteen minutes the men were remounted and back in the chase. All we had to do was follow the dust and listen for where the shooting was. That’s when I spotted a familiar face leaning back against a tree. It was Juliet Watts, and she had an arrow sticking out of her chest but she was alive. I pointed to one of the men and waved to her, so he pulled up and went over to help.

The fresh horses helped. Didn’t take long before we were even with Ed’s boys and when they saw us fogging past, I reckon they figured out what we’d done. We were soon mixed in with Hays’ rangers, who hadn’t swapped mounts. Jean-Louis and me were armed like they were, with pistols, but they had the newer version that Colt had started selling. They could reload by swapping out empty cylinders for loaded ones, which we couldn’t, but since the fight had turned into a running battle, with men stopping to give their horses a breather from time to time, we kept up tolerably well.

We came up to Plum Creek and by then, we’d lost most of our men. It was just Jack Hays, Ed Burleson, Jean-Louis and me in the lead, with maybe half a dozen men behind us who’d caught up slower mounts when we swapped. “They’ve split up,” Ed said. “No telling which way they went.”

“What of our men,” I asked. “How many did we lose in the fighting?”

“None that I saw,” said Jack. “But I’m plumb disappointed in my boys, and I intend they know my feelings when I catch them! They’re looting! They broke off the fight to collect whatever the Comanches stole! Bastards!” Ed looked plumb shocked at this. He’d told me that Jack Hays was mannerly, but this sure didn’t sound that way! I understood his feelings. I hadn’t seen any of ours fall either, but they weren’t behind us, not even Gus.

“Let’s head back and start rounding them up,” Ed said decisively. “We had the Comanches on the run, but if they manage to regroup and come at us we could still lose this fight!”