Chapter 1

Ma and Pa were due back from town long before now. It was completely dark by now, and I was really worried about them. The Comanches were being right rambunctious since the War started, and I was afraid that they might have run afoul of them animals what looked like men.

I was left to watch the house while Ma and Pa went into town for supplies. We had a little farm in westcentral Texas what was right prosperous until my two older brothers had been called up to fight. They had been sent to northern Virginia to help General Lee in his fight with them damyankees. That was about a year ago, and we ain't heard from them since Bob wrote to say that they had arrived okay. I wanted to go with them, but Pa said that I had to stay around to help with the farm and to look after Ma. Well, I could not argue with that, so here I was chewing my fingernails and pacing the floor.

Here it was pushing toward 1863, and them damned Comanches had figured out that a good half of the White male population of Texas was somewhere else. They had increased the raiding, and there was not a whole lot what we could do about it. They had not done too much to us in our neighborhood, but that could not last much longer. The Higgins farm about eight miles down the road had been hit by the Comanches three weeks ago and completely destroyed. They had a wooden house, but ours was adobe, so Pa thought that we had what amounted to a small fort. Anyway, I was supposed to mind the place until they got back.

Ah, there was the sun at last. Now I could go looking for what happened to Ma and Pa. I hoped for the best and feared for the worst. I saddled my horse and strapped on my Colt Navy revolver in .36 caliber. It had five rounds in the cylinder and one empty chamber. I had one spare cylinder with all six chambers loaded. That there Colt Navy was okay for most jobs, but it would not ever stop a charging horse and hardly ever stop a charging man if he was not killed by the bullet. I dearly wished for an Army revolver in .44 caliber, but I was going to have to live or die with what I had.

I also had a Bowie knife with a 9" blade that I could use pretty well. I ain't never been in any knife fights with another human, but I have killed a couple of charging peccaries, and they ain't nothing to laugh about. Besides that, I had a Comanche war club that I kept mostly to thumb my nose at those damned bastards. The sight of that there war club was almost a sure thing to cause a Comanche to charge at me.

My rifle was a muzzle loading Mississippi rifle that was a damned good gun, but it had all of the faults of a muzzle loader. I longed for one of them Henry repeating rifles what I had heard about, but I did not expect ever to see. From horseback, that there Mississippi rifle was good for only one shot because a man had to stand on the ground to reload it. Therefore, I generally saved it for emergencies.

Anyway, back to the situation at hand. There was only one road between our farm and town, so I did not have to wonder where to search. I had my horse moving pretty fast, and I saw trouble close to an hour away from the farm. There was our wagon burned out and, of course, the mule was missing. I saw a couple of broken arrows sticking out from what was left of the wagon, and there was no question but what they were Comanche.

I found Ma and Pa still in the driver's box. Ma had a bullet hole in her ear and Pa had one in his mouth. There was no doubt that Pa had shot the both of them before the Comanches could get to them. I had to admire Pa for his good sense and his concern for Ma. As best I could tell from the chopped up ground, there had been about 20 braves involved with the attack. When I got close enough, I could see that Pa had an arrow in his gut, and there was so much blood that I knew that had happened before he shot Ma or himself.

Well, well, what have we here? It looks like the Indians did not know what to do with Pa's revolver. It was a .44 caliber Colt Army revolver, and I was glad to see that it was in good shape. It had fallen from Pa's hand after he died, and it was lying in the bottom of the driver's box. I picked it up and stuck it behind my belt; the holster was too far damaged from the fire to be useable.

I checked Pa's pockets and Ma's pocket inside her bodice to see if there was any money left from the shopping trip. I found three silver dollars in Ma's pocket and 49¢ in Pa's pockets. There was nothing of any value left in the wagon bed; the Comanches had taken any food that survived the fire.

Everything was in such bad shape that I had no way to get Ma and Pa's bodies home, so I found the remnants of the wagon's shovel and pick and dug a common grave for them right there beside the road. I said a prayer and covered them up. I did make a grave marker, but I knew that it would not last the winter season. Everything else, I just left where it was.

I rode back to the house to try to decide what to do about me and them Comanches. One thing for damned sure: them Comanches were not going to get away with murdering my ma and pa. I had just declared war on the whole Comanche nation, and I was going to start with that camp what was close by.

There was no way that I could wipe out that whole village in one shot, so I had to work out a plan. But first, I had to prepare myself for the coming battle. There was some extra powder at the house and some lead already cast into bullets for my .36 and Pa's .44, but there were no extra cylinders for the .44. I loaded what I had with what I had and pulled the small cache of money from Ma's hidey-hole. She had a gold eagle and a silver dollar there to a total of $11. I now had $14.49 in hard currency, and that was a lot of money in 1862 Texas. Paper money was already being discounted heavily, and it was bound to get worse.

It was well before supper time, so I ate a quick sandwich for lunch and took what I needed with me in a cotton flour sack. The first place I headed was toward town so that I could buy at least one more cylinder for the .44 at the gun shop. I was also going to tell several people in town what had happened to Ma and Pa. They were special friends and would want to know.

I was able to pick up three spare .44 cylinders for a silver dollar, and both me and the gunsmith figured that we had swindled the other guy. I sat on the sidewalk and loaded them cylinders with six bullets each. That gave me 43 bullets for the .44 pistol and 11 bullets for the .36 pistol. That many shots should be enough to fight a war, and I had declared one.

It was mid afternoon by then, and I rode back to the burned out wagon. I tipped my hat as I rode by, and I turned to follow the tracks of them Indian horses. There was no trouble with following the tracks. Them Indians were so arrogant that they were daring anyone to follow them. I rode for about two miles before I came to a ridge that was parallel to the path that the Comanches had taken. I had a wild flight of fancy and rode up on the ridge. I did not care if a Comanche saw me, because I wanted to find at least one before dark.

From the crest of the ridge, I could see the trail left by the Comanches leading off to the north, and a bit farther north, I could see smoke rising from campfires. I had known that the Comanche camp was there, but this little bit of proof settled any nagging doubts that I might have had.

I ain't quite sure what I expected to find, but I rode even closer to the camp. I must have been seen up on the ridge because two very young braves rode toward me hell-bent for leather. They could only be doing that for one reason, and I prepared myself to meet them.

The Comanches rode toward me waving their lances and shouting what I assumed to be war cries. They were not frightening, but they sure were loud! I just sat on my horse and waited for them. When they got close enough, I saw that they were about 12 years old, just barely old enough to be called adults by the Indians. Hell, I was only 14, and I had ridden out to find somebody like them to kill.

When they got close enough, I looped my reins around my saddle horn and drew my two pistols. I was showing off, but I also wanted to try something. I had the Army revolver in my right hand and the Navy revolver in my left hand. My plan was to shoot the two Indians once with each gun and compare the results. I certainly planned to shoot before they got close enough with their lances because I knew what those damned lances could do to a human body.

Chapter 2 »