Chapter 2

Otto began firing as fast as he could operate his Winchester .44-40. He was remarkably accurate in his shooting, considering how dark it was. At least, he had the advantage of aiming at targets silhouetted against the night sky. He hit a few Comanches, but mostly he hit horses. This was really annoying to the Comanches, and they tried to ride him down. Unfortunately for some of them who did not realize that he was shooting from the lip of an arroyo, they charged at his muzzle flash and rode right over the edge of the arroyo to the death of them and their horses.

Three of the Comanches died this way, and 4 more lost their horses from Otto's bullets. One was killed and 3 had broken bones from the fall while riding at high speed. This was 7 lost to the fight out of the 22 who had charged at him. This casualty rate would be enough to discourage most people, but the Comanches were mad enough at him to keep coming.

Otto had no choice, he had to move to another position on the arroyo lip because the Comanches had fixed on his previous firing position revealed by his muzzle flashes. CLICK! His Winchester was empty! He had no time to reload, so he dropped it beside himself down in the arroyo to be recovered later, assuming he lived that long. Otto drew one of his pistols and continued to shoot. He was using a Smith & Wesson break-top .44-40 six-shooter loaded with the conventional 5 rounds. These 5 shots weren't going to last long, but the pistol was extremely fast to reload.

Otto stopped shooting at men and switched exclusively to shooting at the horses. The bigger target was what he needed now that he no longer had the advantage of the longer space between the sights that he got with his rifle. He was leaning against the arroyo wall, so he moved to a new position by rolling along the wall as if he were rolling on flat ground. He got off 3 shots as fast as he could cock and fire, not aiming, just the "spray and pray" type of shooting a person does when he has so many enemies that he doesn't have time to aim. There was a slight pause in the action, so Otto broke open his pistol and shook it to clear the 3 spent rounds. This was no time to worry about gun safety, so he dropped 4 rounds into the cylinder and snapped the action closed. All of this happened in about the time it took to tell of it, much faster than was possible with a pistol that loaded with a gate behind one side of the cylinder, as was the case with a Colt.

There was still a pause in the fighting as the Comanches appeared to be trying to figure out how to get close to Otto. However, they were still well within range of his pistol, so he began to take aimed shots at the horses. He didn't knock any down, but he knew from the sound that the horse made when he scored a hit, and he did hit some. Otto fired off his 6 shots and reloaded as fast as he could, but he only had time to get off one shot before the Comanches decided that enough was enough. They turned and ran! It was definitely not an orderly retreat, but a mad scramble to escape from his too-accurate shooting.

Otto holstered his pistol; he was back to the normal 5 rounds for safety in the cylinder. The Indians might suddenly decide to come back and renew the attack, so he quickly picked up his rifle and reloaded it. He was now fully armed, but he had a lot less ammunition in his poke.

Otto was badly in need of sleep, but he had to put some distance between himself and the Comanches, so he decided to pack up and try to get as far away as he could in an hour. Then, assuming the Indians didn't show up to interrupt him, he would sleep until the sun came up. If his guess was right, that would give him about 2 hours of sleep before he had to worry about the Comanches, again.

He arranged his pack so that his extra pair of pants was cushioning the rest of the load and tied it to his waist. He set off at a slow jog, dragging the pack behind him. This time, he carried his rifle ready for use at a moment's notice. If he could manage 3-4 MPH for the solid hour that he had allotted, he would be more than half way to his water hole by the time he stopped to sleep. "Please, God, let me keep going for the full hour," he prayed as he jogged.

SHIT! The ground had become rough about half an hour into his jog and his pack kept snagging. He couldn't afford for the saddle blanket to tear open and spill its bundled contents, so he stopped long enough to pick up the pack and start carrying it. The ground was very rough along here, and he was reduced to a slow walk as he had to pick his way over the broken ground. The pack was heavy, and Otto had to concede defeat—he was just too tired to go any farther.

Otto stumbled into a small declivity in the arroyo wall and plopped down with the pack in his lap and the rifle laid across it. He was asleep almost before he had stopped moving, and he didn't wake up until the sun was burning down on him. Dammit! Otto had slept much longer than he had intended, but he did feel better for the rest. Since he was not dead, he could safely assume that the Comanches didn't know exactly where he was. The fact that he had been moving over broken ground and carrying his pack had probably saved his life, since he suddenly had become much more difficult to track.

He pushed the pack from his lap and carefully rose to his feet. Man, he was stiff! No time to worry about that, were there any Comanches around? Otto carefully raised his head high enough to look over the lip of the arroyo and didn't see anybody around, Indian or whatever. This was remarkably good news, so he straightened up and did a few quick exercises to loosen up his muscles and joints. Otto looked again and still did not see anybody else, so he assumed that it was safe to relax and eat some breakfast. He pulled some jerky and a canteen from his pack and ate and drank a little. He didn't take much of either one, because he had to ration it out until he could augment them.

He wasn't going to get far by traveling in the daylight, but he needed to push his luck while it was still running in his favor. He did take the time to piss and crap before leaving, since he had no way of knowing when he would again have a free minute. The ground was still rough, so he picked up his pack and resumed his journey toward the water hole.

Otto walked for 30 minutes and rested for 30 minutes, always making sure to find some shade for his rest. He didn't really sleep while he rested, but he did kind of doze, which helped some to renew his mental skills. He came to a smooth section of ground about half way through his third period of walking, so he was able to return to dragging his pack, and that gave him a little relief, as well as let him speed up his walk.

He was now making very good time and should be able to reach the water hole that afternoon. He decided to take a little break before getting to the water hole so that he would be rested in case of an emergency. He was back to carrying his pack, since the ground was too rough to make it safe to drag it. Otto must have been more tired than he realized, because, this time, he didn't just doze—he actually fell asleep.

He woke up, highly annoyed with himself, but also feeling vaguely uncomfortable. His hat was tipped down over his eyes, so he had to raise his head to see in front of himself. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw an Indian standing in front of him and staring intently at his face. He relaxed a little when he saw that the Indian was a boy of about 7 and not an adult who was about to attack him. Otto looked at the boy in the face and said, in English, "Howdy?"

The boy replied in Spanish, "Are you a White man?"

Fortunately, Otto was fluent in Spanish, so he answered, "Yes I am. My name is Otto. Who are you?"

The boy drew himself up proudly and stated, "I am Running Bear. I am Mescalero Apache. What are you doing here?"