Chapter 3

I had emptied one pistol and was working on the second when I rode through the Mescalero defensive line. Thank God, they were on the ball and did not try to shoot me. "MI ESPAÑOL ES MUY LIMITADO. ¿ALGUIEN HABLA INGLÉS?" [My Spanish is very limited. Does anyone speak English?]

A boy shouted back, "I HAVE SOME ENGLISH!"

I hurried to him. "Please take me to your leader. I want to know how I can help the most." That he could understand after a moment's thought. I figured that he must be translating in his head. Hell, that was probably than I could do, so I just waited patiently. Suddenly a smile lit up his face, and he beckoned me to follow him. He led me to a man who looked very harassed.

There was a burst of Spanish between them that I had no hope of following. The boy translated for the man, "We can use help anywhere around our line. Just do what you think that would kill the most Comanches."

"Sí, que puedo hacer." [Yes, that I can do.]

There was another burst of Spanish, and the boy said, "Swift Horse said for me to stay with you in case you need my help."

"Very good. Thank you. What is your name?"

"I am called Lightening Flash."

"OK, Lightening Flash. Let us to over there and see how many Comanches we can kill." That brought an even bigger grin from the boy, and I pulled the shotgun from my saddle horn. I grabbed my ammunition bag and one of the .36 caliber Navy Colt's with the paper cartridges that I had salvaged to sell at my first opportunity. I handed the Colt to Lightening Flash and asked, "Do you know how to use that?"

The boy was beside himself. He answered, "Yes, I think so." I was pleased to see that he did not cock the pistol nor put his finger on the trigger while we trotted to a place on the firing line.

I loaded the shotgun and took my two shots at the Comanches. The result was two horses and three men down. Meanwhile, Lightening Flash was trying to shoot, but he had forgotten to cock the hammer. "Here, let me show you." I showed him how to cock the gun, and that was all of the instruction the boy needed until he ran out of bullets. It was undoubtedly beginner's luck, but he downed three of the Comanches with the five shots. I showed him how to reload, and he learned very quickly. Lightening Flash knew how to reload by the time he had loaded all six chambers.

I used the shotgun while he used the Colt. I don't know how many Comanches we killed that day, but Lightening Flash gave a very good account of himself. The Comanches soon quit riding in close enough for the shotgun to be effective, so I switched to my revolvers. I had given Lightening Flash enough paper cartridges and caps to reload many times, and he showed me how effective he could be with the Colt. We worked our way around the line of defense until the Comanches admitted defeat and rode off. We knew that they would be back to pick up their dead once we left.

When the fight was over, the two of us walked up to Swift Horse and I struggled to say, "Rayo Flash es un poderoso guerrero. Quiero entregarle este revólver Colt." [Lightning Flash is a mighty warrior. I want to present him with this Colt revolver.]

Swift Horse was obviously stunned! Lightening Flash was obviously stunned! This was a gift beyond the wildest dreams of an Apache boy, well, I should say young man, since he was 13 years old. All Swift Horse could say was, "Si."

I was invited to stay for supper. I could not possibly refuse the gracious invitation, but I had no idea what I was in store for. Camp was set up about two miles away from the site of the battle, and a real full-scale celebration was put on. The main course was meat from the downed Comanche horses, but the horses didn't mind, so we didn't either.

The entertainment started when the eating slowed down to a few nibbles here and there. First on the agenda was a recitation of the brave feats of the warriors. Every man in the group, 11 of them, told of how many Comanches he had killed and described in detail how he had done it. Each story was greeted with great applause. Mescaleros always wanted to hear about dead Comanches.

Once the 11 men had spoken, Swift Horse stood up again and announced that there were two special warriors to be honored that night, and one of them was Lightening Flash. He was invited to describe what he had done during the battle, and he described how I had let him use my Colt. He went on to tell of practically every trigger pull and the result, so his story was quite long, but every dead Comanche was applauded. When he finished that part of his story, he then told of how I had presented the Colt to him as a gift, and how much he appreciated receiving it. Such a gift was unheard of, so the announcement was met with silence while everyone digested the news. What followed was even more applause and cheering, which lasted a long time.

At that point, Swift Horse again rose and announced that Lightening Flash had earned a new warrior's name, Mortífero Tirador [Deadly Shooter]. The age of 13 was very young for someone to earn a full fledged warrior's name, so Deadly Shooter was doubly honored.

Then it was my turn. Because of my limited grasp of Spanish, Deadly Shooter was delegated to tell my story of the fight. I could only follow bits and pieces of his oration, and it was truly an oration, but you would have thought that I had wiped out the entire Comanche nation from the praise he heaped upon me. Hell, I was embarrassed! But the real shock hit me when Deadly Shooter finished talking and the applause died down.

Swift Horse stood again and said that I had earned two names, a peace name and a war name. From now on, in times of peace, I would be known as Amigo del Pueblo Mescalero [Friend of the Mescalero People], but in times of war, I would be known as Azote de los Comanches [Scourge of the Comanches]. I have rendered my new names in Spanish because I have no way to write them in Athabaskan.

Now, I was stunned at the honor that had been heaped upon me. Dammit, I might well be the first White Man ever to have two Mescalero names. I stood and thanked Swift Horse as best I could in my halting Spanish, but I was apparently clear enough that everybody could understand what I was trying to say. I think that I earned a lot of female admirers that night, as did Deadly Shooter.

After the meal, and while we were still sober enough to do it, I insisted that Deadly Shooter join me in cleaning our guns. This was not something normally done by the Indians of any tribe, and it explained why their guns went to hell so fast. Black powder, after burning, leaves a residue in the gun that needs to be cleaned out. The residue is highly corrosive and can pit a barrel in only a few hours in damp weather. Fortunately, that is not a problem in NMT, but the guns needed to be cleaned, anyway, because the corrosion eventually happened.

I showed Deadly Shooter, that name being used because a warrior is the one who cares for his weapons, how to clean his new Colt, and I cleaned my pistols and shotgun. We finished up by drawing a wad of cloth saturated with urine through the barrel to kill the last of the acid residue from the burned powder. We even cleaned the cylinder chambers.

I had given Deadly Shooter a gunbelt with holster and a bullet mold to go with his new gun. He had a few paper cartridges left over from the battle, but, tomorrow, I was going to show him how to cast bullets and how to load from loose powder.

We finished in time to enjoy the last of the dancing and singing before bedtime. That was when the available women of the band descended upon both of us to become our bed partners for the night. Deadly Shooter, called that because the girls were looking for a warrior to bed them, was still a virgin and was somewhat intimidated by the sudden attention. I advised him to select an older girl with some experience who could show him what he needed to know before he started working his way through the virgin girls. That appealed to him, so that was what he did.