Chapter 7

It was during this bitter struggle to get through the desert that they met their first Navajo war party. They were battling a steep sand hill when they were hit by surprise by a shower of arrows falling on the men wrestling with a heavy wagon as they struggled to push it up the hill. No one was killed, but 3 men were painfully wounded and would be out of action for days. Both mules were injured badly enough that they would have to be put down once the Indians were dealt with.

The Indians had concealed themselves so skillfully that none of the guards, not even Abigail, had seen them until they started shooting their arrows. The guards, who were all on horseback, charged at the Navajoes and managed to break up their prepared position. The .44 caliber Dragoon Colt was a very effective weapon in this sort of engagement. Even though it was difficult to score a hit while riding at full speed, the noise and smoke was so intimidating that the Indians broke and ran. They gathered at a secondary position and waited for another charge, which didn't come right away.

Instead, everybody reloaded his pistols and stuck them in his belt. John ordered them to dismount and draw their rifles. They formed a skirmish line with John in the middle and marched toward the Indians. Every time a single Indian rose to his knees or feet to fire his bow, John ordered the appropriate person to shoot with his rifle. If several Indians rose, everybody fired. As soon as there was an empty rifle, everybody stopped and reloaded. It was like the march of doom! The Indians simply had no chance against this kind of firepower. Indian after Indian was wounded or killed, with only minor scratches for John's men. Finally, the Indians broke and ran for the second time, but this time they didn't make any effort to form a defensive position; they just kept running until they were out of sight.

Abigail did her usual cropping job while the rest stood guard; she wasn't bothered. While she was doing that, Jerome brought up the horses and waved their flag so that any Indians in the vicinity would see it. They didn't know for certain, but they hoped that some Indians saw the flag and reported the fact. They wanted the legend of Shiply's Troop and Cock Cutter to continue to grow and flourish. The more the Indians were afraid of them, the less likely they were to be attacked.

Shiply's Troop returned to the wagon train to cheers from the welcoming people. From the point of view of Shiply's Troop, this was a very satisfactory little battle, though it was too bad that some of the wagon train people had been hurt. The last wagon was finally pulled up the hill, and the train made a few more miles before they stopped for the night.

Some people were worried that the Indians would poison the waterholes, but Oscar told them to relax. The Indians had to use the same waterholes, so they weren't going to foul them in any way.

They were making slow, but steady, progress toward the Colorado River when they ran into a different type of Apache, one that had never heard of Cock Cutter. John knew that their pit of ignorance had to be filled with knowledge of just how dangerous and painful it was to mess with Shiply's Troop and Cock Cutter. The Mimbreño Apaches had fought wars with Whites and had befriended Whites, and there seemed to John to be no pattern to it. This time they appeared to want to fight.

These Apaches had horses, but were not the fools the Comanches were about fighting from them. The Mimbreño used the horse as transportation and sometimes as a fighting platform, but had no hesitation about jumping off the horse and fighting on their own two feet. This made them particularly dangerous; they were certainly smarter than your average Comanche.

The train was plodding along, one day, when Jim Baker came riding in at full speed. "INJUNS!" he shouted as he looked for Oscar and John. Fortunately, they had time to form their defensive box before the first hostile Indians arrived on the scene. Damn, not only were there a lot of Indians, but some of them had firearms. Fortunately, these were muzzle-loading muskets, but they were still more dangerous than arrows. There were enough Indians to surround the wagon train, and it looked like they meant business.

John distributed his men as he usually did, with Abigail and Cassius as his mobile reserve. The Indians had begun to fire both arrows and musket balls at the train, but had not hit anything significant as yet. "Abigail, take yer rifle to the west wall an' see if ya kin hit anythin' worth shootin' at. We need fer them ta know that we ain't a pushover."

By this time, Abigail had become one of the best rifle shots to be found in the Southwest, and she was sure to hit what she aimed at if it was within range. She found a good, steady shooting platform behind one of the wagons and took a bead on an Indian who looked like he was wearing a warbonnet with a number of coup feathers attached. Normally, a person didn't see one of these, except at ceremonial occasions; he must have figured that this was going to be a walkover, so he would dress for the party.

Abigail cocked her rifle, took a deep breath, let half of it out, and gently squeezed the trigger. BANG! A moment later, the Indian's head exploded at the bullet hit him somewhere around his left eye. Abigail was already preparing for her next shot, so she really didn't pay much attention to the dead Indian. She found another suitable target and went through her preparation ritual. BANG! Another Indian down, shot this time in the chest. She continued to shoot her remaining 4 shots, accounting for 4 more important looking Indians.

She stopped to reload, and, once that was done, shouted in Spanish at the Indians, "HAVE YOU MISERABLE EXCUSES FOR MEN EVER HEARD OF ME? I'M COCK CUTTER! AND I'M HERE TO KILL AS MANY OF YOU STUPID DOGS AS I HAVE TIME FOR BEFORE YOU STICK YOUR TAILS BETWEEN YOUR LEGS AND RUN FOR HOME! I'M GOING TO SHOW YOU WHAT A SIMPLE, WEAK WOMAN CAN DO TO YOU FOOLISH EXCUSES FOR MEN! I'M A WOMAN AND I CHALLENGE YOU TO MEET ME ONE-ON-ONE! BRING ANY WEAPON YOU WANT, I'LL KILL YOU, ANYWAY!"

This challenge produced a rash of wild shooting at the wagon train, none of it close enough to Abigail to cause her any concern. She resumed shooting at the Indians, with the same result as before. In the last half-hour, she had accounted for 12 dead Indians. Who knows why the Indians were foolish enough to expose themselves to her deadly shooting, but they did? She only had the chance to shoot 3 more before the Indians started keeping their heads down so that she had no more targets.

After about 10 minutes of no targets, Abigail shouted, again in Spanish, "YOU COWARDS ARE HIDING FROM ME! YOU DON'T HAVE THE BALLS OF A BITCH! I THOUGHT YOU COWARDS WOULD AT LEAST FACE A WOMAN! OUR MEN ARE TOO PROUD TO WASTE THEIR TIME FIGHTING YOU! GET OUT OF THE WAY! YOU ARE FRIGHTENING OUR BABIES! I SPIT ON YOU, YOU COWARDS!" Abigail climbed on to the wagon seat and waved her middle finger at the Indians. "I HAVE MORE BALLS IN MY HAND THAN YOU DO BETWEEN YOUR LEGS!" This produced a gale of laughter from the wagon train. Now, Abigail did the unforgivable—she dropped her pants far enough to moon the Indians. At first, there was a gasp of shock from the wagon train, and then more laughter. If possible, the laughter this time was louder and harder than before. The Indians responded with arrows and bullets, but none were close enough to be a worry.

After a few minutes, an Indian stood up and shouted, "I'LL FIGHT YOU!"

Abigail put the rifle down and drew her Dragoon Colt from where it rested on the wagon seat. She shouted, "YOU ARE THE BRAVEST OF THE COWARDS. WHEN THIS IS OVER, I WILL NOT CUT OFF YOUR NOSE! I WILL JUST CUT OFF YOUR COCK! COME OVER HERE AND DIE!"

The Indian walked toward her, carrying an ancient flint-lock Spanish musket. It could have belonged to his grandfather. He walked steadily toward Abigail until he was about 100 feet away. He stopped and raised the musket to shoot. Before he could do so, Abigail raised her pistol and fired. She caught the Indian in the chest with her bullet and knocked him backward off his feet. He fell dead, and his gun went off harmlessly as it hit the ground.