Chapter 5

The patrol was nearly home when they encountered 17 Comanches leading 3 captives. The captives were all adult women who were naked and being led with ropes tied around their necks. Shiply's men figured that the women had all been raped multiple times and looked like they were barely able to walk.

The first thing the militia had to do was to get the Indians holding the ropes to the captives to cut them loose so they wouldn't be injured as the fighting began. Fortunately, the militia was behind the Indians and hadn't been seen, yet. John's idea was to shoot the horses of the three Comanches in question. This would keep the Indians from trying to drag the captives and choking them or breaking their necks.

John assigned two men to shoot at each of the horses, knowing that the range of 120 yards was well within accurate shooting distance. The 3 men with the repeating rifles would cover any missed shots, and, once the horses were down, would shoot at the remaining Indians while the other 4 men were reloading. Reloading should be completed by the time the repeaters were empty, so they would shoot a second shot at the Indians.

When all the rifles were empty, they would charge the Comanches, shooting with their pistols. This should be enough to get the Comanches to release the captives as they prepared to fight the attacking militia. With 12 shots each, the Whites should be able to take out most of the Indians by riding at them and reload at least one pistol before the Indians charged again.

The first volley from the rifles did, indeed, kill the horses, but the Indian riders were able to jump to safety as the horses fell. All three Indians were holding lances, and the first thing they did after picking themselves up off the ground was to stab the captives to death.

"God Damn! I never expected them to do that! OK, boys, let's kill them bastards!" John, Seth, and Jeb continued to fire at the Comanches, dropping several men and horses. When their rifles were empty, the other 4 men shot their rifles. With all the rifles now empty, everybody drew a pistol and charged the Comanches at John's command.

Most of the still mounted Indians were carrying lances, so they screamed in joy as the Whites charged at them. John's men held their fire until they were within 30 yards of the Indians, then began firing as quickly as they could cock, aim, and pull the trigger. They switched guns when they ran out of ammunition in the first pistol, so they had passed completely through the Indian band without running out of available shots.

All of the Indians on horseback had been killed or wounded, so there was no chance of having to face a second charge. Five Indians, all badly wounded, were all that were left alive. John ordered a halt for reloading. He thought for a moment, and said, "Boys, killing them bastards outright is too good fer them. I got a better idee." He took up his rifle and aimed carefully at the belly of each of the living Comanches. A bullet in the belly would insure a lingering, very painful death, and the Whites were sure that was all the Comanches deserved.

They buried the three White women the Indians had killed and cropped the noses of all the Indians, alive or dead. They rode away, leaving the Indians to their fate.

Their mood was somewhat somber as they rode into headquarters late that evening, but prospects of the saloon visit raised their spirits. John made his report, and Sheriff Gillespy said, "John, there ain't no way ya coulda known that them bastards woulda killed them women. Stop bein' so hard on yerself. Ya got ta know from yer time in the Army that ya can't be right all the time. Sometimes ya make mistakes, an' sometimes thin's just happen. This was one of them times when thin's jus' happened. It weren't yer fault. Now go git some rest."

John went to his hotel room after grabbing a quick supper. He just was not in the mood for revelry at the saloon that night.

Two days later, they were back on patrol. John had vowed that he would never again assume that the Comanches were anything but mad dogs. Never again would John give the Comanches an opportunity to kill innocents.

John felt that they were getting to be too predictable in their patrol route, so they took a different road as they left headquarters. He had guessed right. Their second day out, they came upon a band of Comanches attacking a "line shack," a small cabin used by cowboys as shelter when they were away from the bunkhouse overnight. This was a one-room building made of adobe with a sod roof.

Anybody inside was safe from arrows as long as he was reasonably careful. The 7 Comanches were using their usual attack tactic of riding around in a circle surrounding the shack, whooping and hollering and shooting their arrows. From the sound of the shooting and the visible powder smoke, John judged that there was only one man inside, and that his weapon was a Colt Navy revolver.

He appeared to have already killed one of the attackers and wounded another. John ordered his men to stand off and shoot their rifles at the Comanches. The Comanches were riding fast enough that a hit on either the man or his horse was going to put him out of the action, even if it didn't kill him.

They dismounted and knelt behind a large tree which had fallen over in some windstorm years before. Jerome picketed the horses at a safe distance and joined them behind the tree. The tree trunk was large enough that it made an excellent breastworks, so they were well protected from arrows. John placed himself in the middle with 3 men to either side. Seth was on his left and Jeb was on his right, so the three repeating rifles were uniformly distributed along the firing line. John ordered, "FIRST SHOT, VOLLEY FIRE! AFTER THAT, FIRE AT WILL! READY... AIM... FIRE!"

The crash of seven rifles shooting was the first any of the Indians or the man inside the line shack knew of the presence of the militia. This first shot was not very easy, considering the distance to the target, the speed of the horses running past the shack, and the angle of the shots. For whatever the reason, only 2 of the Indians went down, and the rest were now alerted to the second group of foes.

The Indians reacted with admirable speed. Without hesitation, they turned to attack the militia behind the impromptu breastworks. They simply tossed their bows aside and grasped their lances as they charged their new enemies. The 4 militiamen with the Mississippi Rifles would have been in bad trouble, were it not for the 3 other men with the repeating rifles. There simply would have not been time to reload the muzzle loading rifles before the Indians reached them, but the 3 repeating rifles showed their value on this day.

The 5 Comanches had not closed half the distance to the Whites before they were wiped out by the unexpected firepower of the 3 repeaters. No matter how brave you might be, that counted for little when you ran into a .44 caliber bullet traveling at nearly the speed of sound. John, Seth, and Jeb really had no trouble in eliminating the Indian threat.

When the fight was over and they were sure that all the Indians were dead, John shouted, "HELLO, THE SHACK! THE COMANCHES ARE DEAD! CAN WE COME IN?"

"COME AHEAD, AN' THANK Y'ALL MIGHTY KINDLY. I'M MUCH OBLIGED FER THE HE'P!"

Jerome retrieved the horses, and they rode up to the shack (no true Texan walks when he can ride). John wondered why the occupant of the shack didn't come out to meet them when they rode up, but he found the answer to his question when he saw that the man inside the shack had an arrow sticking out of his calf.

"Please fergive my poor manners of not meeting y'all at the door, but, as ya kin see, them bastards put a limit on how much I kin walk. They got me jus' as I wuz comin' through the door from puttin' up my hoss. My name's Brad Otis, an' I'm mighty glad ta see y'all."

"Howdy, Brad. I'm John Shiply, an' these yahoos are Seth, Jerome, Abe, Jack, Jeb, an' Jethro. We're county militia out huntin' Comanches. It looks like ya wuz lucky we happened along. Jack's pretty good with wounds; better let him look at yer leg."

"Shit, Brad, I hate ta say it, but it looks like I'm gonna have ta cut yer boot off. But, ya were lucky. By hittin' yer boot, the arrow wuz slowed down enough that it didn't go all the way through yer boot. Ya're just gonna have a gash on yer leg an' not a big hole. I'll try ta save as much of yer boot as I kin. I'm sorry, but this is gonna hurt like hell."

"YAOOW! Dammit, Jack! Somebody's gonna have ta hold my foot an' leg. I can't he'p jumpin'."

"OK. Abe, Jerome, grab aholt, ifen ya please. I ain't got much more ta do, then we kin pull the boot off. Once that's done, I kin clean up the wound an' put on a bandage."

"Brad, where would ya like us ta take ya, soz ya kin mend? It's sure as shit that ya can't stay here by yer lonesome. We kin swing by the ranch house an' they kin look after ya. Seems ta me that's the best bet."

"Yeah, I guess so. I appreciate y'all he'pin' me. Right now, my leg hurts too much ta think."

"We'll spend the night here, an' take ya in, come mornin'. Jethro, look after the hosses, ifen ya please. Jeb, you an' Seth crop the noses of them Injuns an' drag 'em off, sommers. We'll worry 'bout their hosses, come mornin'."