Chapter 7

It was along toward late August when we had our first Injun trouble. A few of the other ranches had been in minor fights with the Cheyenne, but they had beat off the Injuns, soz we were all sure that Crazy Horse hadn't been along on the raids. We figured that he wasn't the kind to give up so easily.

At least, those raids did give us fair warning that the Injuns was on a rampage, soz I decided that we better git ready fer our little dust ups. One thing I did was buy enough 10-gauge shotguns soz every hand had one, and I stocked up on ammunition. I have heard arguments both ways about the proper sized shot to use, but I wanted somethin' capable of stoppin' a chargin' horse. Soz I went with the largest shot I could git in a hurry. I bought six cases of #000 buckshot; that's .36 caliber balls and nine balls per shell. Within 40 yards, one ball was enough to stop a man, and two balls would stop a horse.

Our bunkhouse was pretty close to the main house, and we had enough men, soz I split us up into two groups, one to fight from the main house and one to fight from the bunkhouse. At least, that was the idea ifen we had time to git set up. Otherwise, we'd just improvise as best we could. I had ammunition stockpiled in both buildings, but I had each man keep his shotgun with him.

The shotguns was the new style "hammerless" guns and double barreled. Of course they was breech loaders and cocked automatically when they was loaded. This gave them a slightly increased rate of fire and kept a body from havin' to remember to cock the hammer afore he pulled the trigger. This was good in a firefight, because it was easy to forget to cock a separate hammer durin' the excitement of a fight.

The only reason I didn't switch my side arm to the new style was because of the force of habit. I was afraid that I would fumble for the hammers that weren't there in the rush to draw and lose invaluable bits of time havin' to think instead of letting faster habit rule my actions. I figured that I was so used to havin' to cock the separate hammers that it didn't cost me enough in doin' that to worry about it.

Along about noon one day when everybody was eatin' dinner, we heard Jack out in the barn brayin' like it was the end of the world. Well, it would have been fer him, considerin' the way Injuns like the taste of mule. Anyway, we jumped to investigate from both the main house and the bunkhouse. As soon as somebody poked his head out the door, a bunch of shots were fired. The poor ranch hand what was first on the scene was riddled with bullets and died pretty quick like.

The rest of us figured that it was an Injun raid, so we skidded to a halt and grabbed our weapons. The kitchen and dinin' room fer the ranch hands was a part of the bunkhouse, soz they didn't have a bit of trouble fetchin' their shotguns and bandoleers of ammunition. Those of us in the main house were able to do the same.

I was really pissed! Ifen them Injuns had waited fer just 15 more minutes, I would of had time to finish my coffee. This thought of my coffee gittin' cold on the dinin' room table kept me in a bad mood all the way through the whole fight!

These Injuns were Cheyenne and Arapaho, soz I knew right off that we were in trouble. Ifen they had been the Comanches I was used to, I wouldn't have been worried so much. The Comanches never leave their horses except to shit or fuck, and I ain't certain about that, soz they make right good targets, but the Cheyenne and Arapaho are a lot smarter. They git offen their horses and hide behind protective walls and rocks and trees and such to fight, soz they are a damned sight harder to kill. Thank God, we had plenty of ammunition, because I figured that we was gonna need it.

We closed the wooden protective shutters over the windows; we could do that from inside the house and bunkhouse. The wood of the shutters was thick enough soz it would stop most bullets, and those that wasn't stopped would be slowed down quite a bit. Anyway, except fer a lucky shot passin' through a loophole, we was likely to be pretty safe from bullets. Fire was what we had to worry about, and the Injuns knew that, too.

Both sides kept shooting at each other fer about 45 minutes. We didn't have much say in the matter, but the Injuns could control the length of the fight. They had us surrounded, soz they could stop the fight any time they wanted to just by backin' off out of range. On the other hand, we didn't have no place to go. Alls we could do was to try to defend ourselves 'til them Injuns got bored and decided to leave us alone.

Somebody on the Injuns' side finally got bored enough with the useless shootin' and made the first try at burnin' us out. Well, we had one answer to that. The most obvious way to set a house on fire was to roll a wagon full of burnin' hay up against it. We had to have spare wagons around, soz we couldn't keep the Injuns from findin' a convenient wagon, but we could defend against that. When we first heard about the Injun raids, I had Jake build a little wall all around every important buildin' about 15 feet out away from the walls which would stop a free rollin' wagon afore it could git to the buildin'. We left just a little break in a wall soz a wagon could be moved up next to a buildin' when necessary ifen a body was careful enough with the job. It was a nuisance, but bein' burned alive was a bigger nuisance!

The first time the Injuns tried to roll up a wagon, we was able to get in some shots at them, and we killed or wounded a few. They had used a buckboard—I suppose because it was lighter than a regular wagon, soz it was easier to push (you know an Injun don't like to work no more than a White man does). They had piled a lot of hay rolls on top of the buckboard to the point where the stack was very unstable. The first Injun was hurt when a burning roll fell on him as they was rollin' the buckboard toward us. We hadn't even fired a shot when the accident happened, soz we was saved a shell or two.

Anyway, we wanted to see what would happen, soz we held our fire 'til the wagon got to the low wall. The Injuns was fussin' with the problem of gittin' passed that wall when we took our first shots at them Injuns what was pushin' the flamin' buckboard. After a few shots, the Injuns ran away, except fer some what wasn't able to. That was the end of the buckboard fiasco.

The next time the Injuns tried a fire wagon, they aimed at the bunkhouse instead of the main house. They pushed the wagon up onto a hill that was out of range from all but a few shooters from the backside of the bunkhouse. All of us could see what was goin' on, though. Them Injuns had piled this here wagon high with hay afore they pushed it to the top of the hill, and they lit the fire just afore they pushed the wagon down the hill.

The wagon load of burnin' hay rolled down the hill without more than that initial push, and the Injuns ran over to the other side of the hill where they could watch what happened without gittin' shot at. They watched as the wagon gradually picked up speed as it rolled, and it was goin' pretty fast when it came to the low wall. The front wheels hit the wall hard enough to jump over the wall, but the rear wheels hung up on the wall. Most of the rolls of hay fell offen the wagon at the bump on the wall, and none of them had enough speed to roll as far as the bunkhouse on their own.

The result was as much of a fiasco as the first try had been. One of the Injuns had a war bonnet with quite a few feathers in it, soz I figured he must be the war chief. They was standin' around out of range of the shotguns and admirin' the fire, and that kind of got to me, since I was still pissed about missin' my coffee. I put down my shotgun and picked up my rifle. They might be out of range of a smooth bore shotgun, but they was well within range of a .44-40 rifle bullet. I rested the barrel on the loophole and took careful aim afore I squeezed off the shot. I admit that I was lucky with that bullet, but I usually was lucky with my shootin'. Anyway, I could see the splash of blood comin' from his chest as he fell, soz I knew that I had made a good hit.