Chapter 17

Running Fox assured me that Joe could be trusted by himself when it came to a fight. The problem was that Joe had all of the exuberance of any early teen, so he was likely to get into trouble by taking on more than he could handle. I had to agree with that assessment, so I hoped never to have to send Joe out on his own hunting Indians. However, all good intentions seem to come up against reality at some point in one's life.

Our next adventure with Indians came on a food hunting expedition. We saw a column of smoke off in the distance, so we figured that we had better investigate. It looked to me like only a burning barn or a cabin could produce that much smoke. We rushed at full speed to see if we could be of help and had to skid to a stop when we saw what had happened. The fire was coming from a large barn which was just now collapsing in a losing battle with a major fire.

Meanwhile, a band of Chiricahua Apaches had broken into the large house. They were just going in as we rode up. We were close enough by that time, so all three of us drew our revolvers and started blasting away. Our horses were still moving, so we were not able to do an adequate job of aiming. We only got two kills, but it looked like there also were a few wounds.

We quickly dismounted and rushed toward the house on foot. This was going to be a battle at close quarters, so we left our rifles behind. We were so close behind the invading Apaches that we saw the last one go through the door to the main hall. I snapped off a shot, but did not hit anything useful.

The main entrance to the house led to a living room that was centered between two wings, with a dining room and kitchen to the rear. I took the right hallway, Running Fox took the left one, and Joe was sent to clear out the dining room and kitchen. Joe remembered what I had taught him about urban fighting and ducked as low as he could while entering the dining room. He spotted an Apache and fired off a snap shot. With a combination of skill and luck, he scored a hit just as the Indian ducked around the door into the kitchen.

He heard a woman scream and there was the sound of a thud, as if a club was hitting flesh. Joe called out, "I'm a White man. Are you women OK?"

The answer was, "No, we need help."

That was the trigger that propelled Joe through the kitchen door in a kind of rolling dive. He found an elderly woman standing in front of a much younger woman. She was brandishing a large cast iron skillet at an Indian who was stalking her with a fighting knife. Joe did not hesitate. He shot the Indian in the back at such close range that there were powder burns on the man's back from the muzzle flash. The sound was deafening in the enclosed room, but Joe quickly scanned to see that there were no more threats in evidence.

His look around revealed another Indian lying on the floor. This man had a shattered right elbow, and a rifle was on the floor near him. He had a smashed in head, and that was undoubtedly what caused the thud sound as the woman hit him in the head with her skillet. The two dead Indians were all that Joe could see in the kitchen, but he asked, "Were there any more Injuns in here with y'all?"

"No, Señor, all of these Indians are dead, thanks to you."

Joe laughed and said, "Well, Señora, it looks like ya had somethin' ta do with it. PA, I GOT THE TWO INJUNS IN HERE!"

"GOOD! YOU STAY THERE TO PROTECT OUR FLANK! GOT THAT?"

"YEAH, PA, I UNDERSTAND!" Joe was sure that he was stuck where he was out of the way of most of the shooting, but he did obey the direct command. He did move back into the dining room where he could get a better view of the front door. He also took the time to reload.

Running Fox had also listened to what I had to say about urban fighting, so he was not going to be anybody's easy mark as he looked after his part of the fight. He was carefully moving down the hall to the first door when he heard another shot from Joe and a whoop of "GOT HIM!" Running Fox couldn't help a grin as he approached that first door, which was open.

Being very careful not to expose any more skin than was absolutely necessary, Running Fox peeked around the door jamb and saw that the room was empty. It had the looks of a study, with books on shelves and a desk with some papers on it. Satisfied that the room was empty, Running Fox stepped back into the hall, then he decided to check under the desk to see if somebody was hiding there. The modesty panel faced the door, so he did not have a good view of that part of the room.

Running Fox slipped into the room almost silently, as silent as one could be while wearing hard-soled cowboy boots. He got in far enough to see, and there he found an elderly man crouched under the desk. Running Fox said in English and in Spanish, "I am a friend," and left the man where he was. At the moment, there probably was not a safer place in the house to be.

He reentered the hall and went to the next room. The door was closed and locked. Running Fox could not open the door without making a lot of noise, so he decided to bypass this room for the moment. An invading Apache was not likely to lock a door behind him, so Running Fox was sure that he was making the right decision.

The last door was at the end of the hall and looked like it might lead to one large room. Running Fox knelt and protected himself as well as he could behind the door jamb as he twisted the knob and pushed the door open rather forcefully. Hardly had he gotten the door open when he was met by the blast of a shotgun pointed at the door. Had he been standing where one would normally stand to open a door, he would have been cut in two by the blast of two barrels of buckshot from a 10-gauge shotgun.

There was a woman's scream from inside the room and a multiple thud as several things hit the floor. Running Fox looked inside and saw an opulent bedroom and sitting room combination. An elderly woman was lying on the floor, dazed, and near her was the recently fired double-barrel shotgun. Lying on a side-table was a musketoon which she would have undoubtedly tried to use if she had not been knocked down and dazed by the recoil of the shotgun.

The woman was coming to herself as Running Fox hurried to her to help her to lie down on the bed. She recognized that he was not one of the usual attackers, so she asked in Spanish who he was. Running Fox replied, "I am a friend, Señora. I must leave you now to help in ridding your home of the other attackers." The woman seemed to faint in relief, so Running Fox turned to help me.

I was making slow progress, as I was still in the living room firing down the hall at the Apaches who had holed up in the room at the end of the hall. Running Fox was a welcome aid when he showed up. He reported what he had found and done, and I told him that I was in a stalemate at the moment. Running Fox volunteered to charge the three Apaches who were in the far room, but I figured that was brave, but way too foolish.

The doors to the side rooms were deeply inset into the walls, so that there was enough room to shelter behind the door jamb. I suggested that he move down the left side of the hall as I gave him covering fire until he could reach that first doorway. He was right handed, so he could easily shoot his revolver with his right hand while taking shelter in the doorway.

Anyway, once he was in position, he could cover me as I moved down the right side of the hall. I was right handed, but nearly as skilled at shooting with my left hand from all of those years practicing my hobby. He agreed, and that's the way we started out. I blasted away and emptied one gun while he was getting into position. We paused long enough for me to reload, and then Running Fox blasted at the far doorway while I moved to my doorway.