Chapter 2

Keith's first shot caught the lead horse in the chest and caused it to tumble. Its rider went flying over the horses head as it fell, knocking the rider unconscious and breaking several bones on impact. The next horse in line tried to swerve around the fallen horse and stepped in a hole as it did so. This horse fell with a broken leg and threw its rider in the process. This rider was killed on impact. Now, that was a lucky shot, two Comanches and two horses with one bullet; Keith couldn't ask for more!

While all of this was going on, Keith had already started reloading his rifle. The other three Comanches had managed to avoid the two fallen horses and men, but stopped their mad ride to see what had caused the fiasco. This gave Keith a chance to put a bullet through the chest of the nearest rider, but the other two saw his powder smoke, so they knew where to find him.

Both Indians charged before Keith could have time to reload. Keith had been counting on this and had his pistol out, cocked, and at the ready by the time the Comanches got close enough. He shot the first horse and was letting the pistol fall back into position from the recoil when the musket sounded from the house. The musket ball caught the Comanche in his back near the left shoulder and knocked him to the ground. He may not have been dead at that point, but the .76 caliber musket ball had done enough damage that he soon would be, no matter what his present condition.

Keith called to the house, "THAT'S ALL OF 'EM! I'M COMIN' IN, IFEN YA PLEASE!"

A woman's voice answered, "MUCH OBLIGED FER THE HE'P! COME ON IN!"

Keith picked up his rifle and walked toward the house. "Well, bless my soul, ifen it ain't Keith Murray. What cha doin' way over here on this side of the county? I ain't seen ya fer a 'coon's age! An' I shore never expected ta see ya shoot anybody!"

"Howdy, Mz. Albertson. I'm a changed man this past week." Keith then told the woman what had happened at his farm and warned her about being too nice to Comanche women and children.

Mrs. Albertson was properly sympathetic and not surprised at what the Comanches had done. She was only surprised at the change in Keith. The poor man obviously needed a square meal and a place to sleep, so she was happy to pay for her rescue with food and shelter. "My husband went inta Trinity fer some supplies, an' I don't expect 'im back 'til tomorrow, so yer company will be a blessin'. Ya kin spend the night in here by the fire."

"Why, thank ya, Mz. Albertson. I'll just go git my kit an' be right back. A home-cooked supper'll be a real treat." Keith was back in only a few minutes with his sled. He pulled his pack off the sled and left it by the doorway. Keith used the Albertson's mule to pull the dead horses and Comanches out of the front yard and to a nearby gully, where he dumped them. As a matter of principle, he cut the heart out of each man before dumping him. The uninjured horses were put into the corral to be disposed of by the Albertsons as they saw fit—Keith had decided that he preferred walking.

The next morning, he had breakfast cooked by Mrs. Albertson and left before Mr. Albertson returned from Trinity. Keith had no particular place to go and had no idea where he could find more Comanches, so he figured that the could wander any place he happened to head, one place was as good as another. He moseyed along for a few days, taking the time to hunt and kill an antelope. He jerked the meat that he didn't immediately eat and packed it on his sled. He was now pretty well fixed for food for the next few weeks.

His next opportunity to kill Comanches was not as satisfactory as his previous efforts. He topped a rise and saw in the distance evidence of a large Comanche camp. It had to be Comanches, since no other nation would have enough people in the vicinity to establish such a large camp. He saw some trees to his right, so he headed for them, keeping the trees between him and the Indians. The trees were close enough together to give him good cover, so he cached his sled, took his rifle, and headed toward the camp.

Keith stayed among the trees as he sneaked closer to the camp, but had to stop about 75 yards from the nearest Indian because that's where he ran out of trees. His greed rose within him as he surveyed the camp. There looked to be at least 50 men and, possibly, double that many in women and children in the camp. Oh, what he would give for a 12-pounder cannon and some grape shot right now! All he had was his rifle, so that was what he would use. He knew that he was only going to get one shot before the whole camp descended upon him like a swarm of bees. He might not have a cannon, but surely there existed a weapon which he could shoot without all the noise produced by gunpowder.

He knew that he could never become proficient with a bow, besides the range was too short. Oh, well, maybe something would occur to him. In the meantime, he would do what he could with his rifle. It looked like the only way to fire a shot and get away with it was to fire from a tree and hope to hide there until the hue and cry died down. In order to be as prepared for an emergency as he could, Keith kept his rifle loaded, all but the cap. He used his ramrod to make sure that the charge was still seated properly and climbed what looked like an appropriate tree.

Keith climbed as high as he could, which was about 50 feet above the ground. He found a comfortable place to perch and readied his rifle. Keith looked around until he found a target worthy of his effort. A man in an elaborately decorated shirt was sitting in front of an equally elaborately decorated tepee. A naked girl who looked to be about 14 years old was kneeling beside him. Keith assumed that the girl was a slave, because her hair was blond. The man was idly playing with the girl's breasts, occasionally pinching a nipple hard enough to make her scream, which would cause him to laugh.

Keith decided that this man may not be as important as he looked, but there was no doubt that he was a bastard who deserved to be killed. The range was a little long, but Keith was in no hurry, so he had plenty of time to take careful aim. Keith lined up on his target, took a deep breath, let out half of it, and gently, but firmly, squeezed the trigger. There was a noticeable delay before the bullet struck, but the Comanche suddenly grabbed for his gut and fell over. The .54 caliber bullet was bound to make a big hole when it penetrated.

The noise of the gunshot was totally ignored as several people shouted and ran toward the man who had just been shot. The naked girl ran, screaming, into the tepee, and several women came running out a very few minutes later. It suddenly dawned on Keith that he may not have done the girl any favor, but it was too late now to change his mind.

Since he was being ignored, Keith went through the contortions necessary to reload the rifle. He looked around for a suitable target, and picked one up immediately. A man in a very elaborate headdress was running toward the latest victim, and he certainly looked like a high-value target. Keith guessed that he was the most important shaman in the camp, so it would be a mighty psychological blow for him to be killed. Keith waited for the man to stop running, and, sure enough, he stopped beside the body of the first man. Keith carefully went through his firing routine and shot again. This time, the bullet caught the target high in the chest and threw him tail over teakettle into a small fire that was burning nearby.

The shaman didn't scream, possibly because he was already dead, but his shirt began to burn before he could be pulled from the fire. This time, the bullet hole was obvious, and people began looking around for the source of the shot. Fortunately for Keith, the powder smoke had dissipated before anybody looked in his direction, but it was obvious where, in general, the shot had come from.

There was a great hue and cry as people ran, and horsemen rode, toward the stand of trees where Keith was hiding. Keith would probably have had time to shinny down, but the Indians would surely have caught him if he had. Therefore, Keith stayed where he was and watched as the Comanches searched through the trees for the assailant. Occasionally, someone would look up in the trees, but Keith was so high that no one saw him. Eventually, the search was abandoned, but Keith stayed in the tree overnight, just in case.