Chapter 8

I barely made it to the end of the valley before the first of the Comanches rode into the valley entrance at the other end. Not knowing what else to do, I pulled out my Winchester and jumped off my horse. I was almost in a panic as I scrambled a little ways up the bank on the south side of the valley and started shooting. There simply was nothing else for me to do. I had no idea where Lt. Simms had placed his men, or even if they were still anywhere around. I trusted him, but I was still scared shitless.

Well, if we wanted the Comanches to ride into the little valley, I had to be doing the right thing. The leaders of the group saw me and started shooting while riding as fast as their horses could move down the valley toward me. I didn't have time to count the Comanches between the valley walls, but a quick glance made it look like everybody had arrived. If I didn't know better, I would swear that there were a thousand Indians all trying to shoot little old me.

I was returning their fire. Hell, what else could I do? The Comanches were milling around on their horses occasionally taking a shot at me, but it seemed like most of them were waiting around for instructions. Finally, this real dignified looking guy rode in, and he's wearing all kinds of fancy beadwork on his chest and back. He raised his arm, and there was a sudden quiet. Hell, I even quit shooting, just waiting to see what was about to happen, because, sure as hell, something was about to pop!

He dropped his arm, and all hell seemed to break loose. The Indians started to yell war whoops and fire their guns at me. That's one consolation—with so many people shooting at me, I'm not likely to be captured alive. Hell, if I got hit by that many bullets, I'd be nothing but mincemeat in a few seconds.

Well, I had no choice—I ducked my head and prayed for them to be lousy shots! Suddenly, there was a tremendous bang! That turned out to be a flock of cavalry carbines firing in volley. That noise was immediately followed by a gaggle of revolvers being fired about as fast as they could be cocked and the triggers pulled. Indian horses were dropping right and left! I don't think a single shot was aimed at a man—it looked like there were a bunch of dead horses and not a single dead man.

In the process of all of this shooting, only a couple of horses were left standing, and they looked to be fatally wounded, but they just had not fallen over, yet. I noticed that all of the firing at the Comanches was coming from six positions on the far side of the valley, around 50-60 yards away.

Comanches weren't stupid, just tied up in a lot of warrior tradition—a lot like the Japanese with their samurai. Anyway, they realized quickly that they were not going to be fighting from horseback in this battle, so they scurried to this side of the valley and crouched behind rocks that could protect them from the shooters on the far side of the valley.

Soon, there is a dwindling of the fire coming from the revolvers on the far side of the valley as the troopers over there had to reload, though the shooting never stops completely. The rate of fire picked up after only a short delay, but the Indians were now shooting back from the protection of the rocks they were sheltering behind.

This was not much of a battle when you looked closely, because there were approximately 30 shooters on this side of the valley and only six shooters on the far side of the valley. Assuming that nobody ran out of ammunition, it's pretty certain that the guys on this side were going to win, eventually. However, the situation changed in the blink of an eye!

From this side of the valley and from behind the crouching Comanches came a blast of volley fire, followed very shortly thereafter by a hailstorm of revolver fire. The Indians were totally unprotected from the shooters on this side of the valley, and the sustained fire did not last long before Lt. Simms voice echoed down the hillside, "CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE!"

The Indians were no more! Every one of them, including the war chief in the fancy regalia, were dead or as good as dead. Lt. Simms' ambush had worked perfectly! I just wished that I had known what was planned so that I would not have been so scared. That sort of thing was damned tough on the heart.

From across the valley came the voice of Sgt. Brown. "OK, YOU DICKHEADS! LET'S GET THIS MESS CLEANED UP! I'M GETTING HUNGRY, AN' Y'ALL KNOW HOW TESTY I GET WHEN I'M HUNGRY!" That produced a laugh from the troopers, but they rushed to pull the dead Indians into one pile and the dead horses into another pile.

I shouted, "SGT. BROWN, THERE'S A GULLY ABOUT 60 YARDS THAT WAY THAT IS LARGE ENOUGH TO TAKE ALL OF THE REFUSE!" He waved to me, and I went to find Lt. Simms.

"Well, Mr. Wilson, what did ya think of our little ambush?"

"Lt. Simms, Sir. The ambush was great, but please tell me what you have planned next time. I had the shit scared out of me until Sgt. Brown's men fired that first volley."

Simms laughed and said, "Certainly, Mr. Wilson, provided ya can guarantee that we will have that much time to spare."

OK, I can laugh at a joke played on me, but I hope that I never run into another one like that. "Lieutenant, that sort of thing is just too hard on my heart for me to be completely amused by the joke." He did have the grace to look embarrassed.

The men had the trail cleaned up of dead bodies before dark, so we moved just beyond the valley to make camp for the night. I supposed that it was a kind of apology, but Sgt. Brown had one of the men fix supper for me. To tell the truth, I really appreciated the gesture because I was still shaking from my scare. The problem was that I could imagine what the Comanches would have done to me if they had caught me still alive, and I have a very vivid imagination!

We returned to the fort, though the trip took two days. Frankly, I could hardly wait to get home. I really needed to see and be reassured by my family. The evening of the day we got home, Sally took me to the veranda to sit while Jane cleaned up after supper. "John, we need ta talk. What do ya plan ta do about Jane? I checked around, an' there ain't nobody what kin take her in. I'm worried. We can't just turn her loose. There ain't no way a girl her age kin make her own way out here in the wilderness."

"To tell the truth, Sally, I kind of hoped that she would fit in with us. I got to know her pretty well on our ride in from where I found her, and I would like to keep her, if you agree to that."

That got me a big hug and kiss. "Oh, John, ya always do the proper thin'! I, too, want ta keep her with us. She's a wonderful girl, an' she is a big help ta me. Let's adopt her an' make her our official daughter. Tomorrow, ya kin talk ta Maj. Kreiker 'bout how we should go about it."

That's when I knew that Jane had been listening behind the door. She ran and jumped into my lap. "Oh, Pa, thank ya, thank ya, thank ya. I love ya so much!" All of that was followed by a big hug and kiss. Hell, I know when I'm beat! To seal the deal, I kissed her back. From then on, Jane was our daughter, official or not.

That engagement in the valley seemed to be the last big fight with the Comanches for the whole year of 1878. We still went out on patrol, but we gradually scaled back the operations until the fall. By then, I was the only one going out, and I never found any hostile activity. This situation ran all through the winter and into the spring of 1879.

When spring came, Maj. Kreiker called me into his office and had me sit down. Uh-oh, that had to mean trouble! We fumbled around with a few pleasantries for a little while, but finally, Maj. Kreiker came to the point. "I'm afraid that this is when I have to get official, Mr. Wilson." That's when I knew that trouble was coming! He never called me "Mr. Wilson" unless the War Department was involved.