Chapter 3

I could not wait to try out that shotgun! Before I quit because I had run out of daylight, I shot up all 12 of those birdshot cartridges and one of those loaded with buckshot. Oh, God, I think that I was in love with that gun!

I got to the gun shop just before Mr. Schmidt closed his door for the night and left him the spent shells to reload for me. He promised to have them ready by tomorrow afternoon when I came back to town. All right, I will admit it: I slept with that shotgun next to me that night. I told you I was in love with it!

I ate a quick breakfast and headed out to find Comanches. Well, I did know where to start, so I didn't have a problem finding what I was looking for. I was not even to the camp when I saw six men riding toward me dressed for war. They saw me about the same time I saw them, and the chase was on. Of course, I could not outrun them, but I did not want to. I knew exactly the place where I wanted them to catch me. It was a real shallow cave in a sandstone cliff. There was a low ridge of sandstone running across in front of the cave to make a breastwork, and there was a little waterhole in the cave just big enough to serve one man and his horse.

I am sure that the Comanches knew about the cave and the fact that I was headed for it. They made every effort to catch me, but I slowed them down with one shot from my shotgun. I managed to hit both a man and his horse. The horse tripped and fell, dumping the man at the full running speed of the horse. Unfortunately, the horse wound up with a broken leg from the tumble, and cost me $4. The man died when he hit the ground, if not sooner.

The other five Comanches slowed for a moment, and that was all that I needed. By the time they had made up the ground they had lost, I had reached the cave and was getting set up. I only had six buckshot cartridges left so I planned to use my pistols as much as I could.

I was at the breastwork with my shotgun, pistols, and water canteen by the time the Comanches had arrived. They were going to stay on their horses if they possibly could, so I had to be careful with my shooting. I wanted those horses in good shape so that I could settle my debt to Mr. Schmidt. That was another argument in favor of using my pistols instead of the shotgun.

The Comanches had bows and lances, but they were not overloaded with arrows. Normally, a Comanche carried no more than 10 arrows with him, even when he was going to war. He wanted to use his lance from horseback, and he would not need many arrows if he did that. My worst fear was that the Comanches would not attack me, but wait until I ran out of food and had to leave the cave. I was somewhat prepared for that, but I had no fodder for my horse. That set my time limit for staying in the cave.

I was not worried about the Comanches chasing me on horseback as long as I had ammunition for my shotgun. I firmly believed that I could depend on the one shotgun cartridge equals one dead Indian, but I needed the horses in good condition so that I could sell them. Oh, well, if I had to shoot the horses, then I would. A live horse was no good to a dead me!

The conflict opened with the Comanches riding straight at me. If their horses could jump that breastwork, then they would have me. I was lying down behind the breastwork and having to shoot in a slightly upward direction. That meant that the horse's neck and head were blocking much of my view of the man riding it, so I did not have the simple and easy shot that one might expect. That meant that I had to aim very carefully to miss the horse and hit the man.

The first charge with five men and their horses was spectacular, but I aimed at the men on the outside edges of the group, and their horses did not block as much of my shot as the Indians had hoped. I had enough time to aim for my first shot so that I was able to hit the Comanche in the side and knock him from his horse. The fall killed him if the bullet did not.

My second shot was somewhat rushed, so I only shot that man in the upper arm on his right side. His arm was obviously broken, but he did not fall from his horse. However, it was my good luck that he was too badly injured to ride back to camp to gather reinforcements.

My wild shots near the faces of the other three horses were enough to make the horses afraid to make the jump over the breastwork. The horses veered away despite the efforts of their riders. Unfortunately, I emptied that cylinder, but fortunately, I had additional cylinders that I could swap before the Indians could make another charge. I did swap guns to keep either one from overheating. Later in the fight, that could be a problem which was best avoided.

The next thing the Indians tried played directly into my hand. This time, they dashed across my front parallel to the breastwork. This time, they were firing their arrows at me, and they were high enough on their horses that the breastwork was no protection to me. Fortunately for me, it was almost as difficult to fire an arrow accurately from a swiftly moving horse as it was to fire a gun. Therefore, there was a good chance that they would miss me, and I would make it more difficult to hit me if I stood up.

I stayed down until they were committed to their run across my front, and that was when I jumped up to confuse their target aiming point. I began to fire as soon as I was erect, and I hit two of them with bullets before they had fired one arrow. One more was dead, but the other one was only slightly wounded, though it had to be very painful to draw his bow with that there wound running across his chest.

The two Comanches retired to out of pistol range while they discussed what to do next. I had not yet used my Mississippi rifle, but I now grabbed it and dropped a cap onto the nipple. I lay back down into the prone position and carefully aimed my rifle at the unwounded Indian. I had to wait for his horse to settle down, but I was finally able to fire. My bullet struck just to the left of center between his shoulder blades. That was the wrong side for his heart, but it really was not important.

I hurried to reload my rifle and had it done in about 11 seconds, which was very fast for such a weapon. I dropped back to my prone position and fired at the man with the bullet wound across his chest. This was a hit in the neck. Did I miss or did his horse move at the wrong time? Oh, well, the man died in less than a minute, so the matter was inconsequential.

Well, there was one last man, and he was not able to mount his horse with his massive arm wound. I walked toward him, holding my pistol in my hand. He ran toward me with his lance in his left hand. I was in no mood to fool around, so I shot him in the chest and let him fall almost at my feet.

My real interest was in the horses, and I gathered them up. I made a long lead rope and took the horses into town. I got no questioning looks this time as I led the five horses to the livery stable. Mr. Johnson said, "Son, I cannot keep paying you $4 a horse in hard cash when you bring in so many. Take it easy on me for a little while, if you please." He did give me $20 for the five horses, and that was enough for me to pay my debt to Mr. Schmidt.

The only reasonably nearby town, Oak Junction, was about 10 miles farther away from the Comanche camp than was Sweet Water, but I might have to take some of my trade there, at least as far as the horses were concerned.

I stopped by to see Mr. Schmidt and to pay him what I owed him. I also left my empty shells with him for reloading. This was going to get complicated if I had to sell my horses in Oak Junction, but come back to Mr. Schmidt to get my shotgun shells reloaded. Well, I had enough money to hold me for a few weeks, so I figured that I would stop selling horses for a few days. On the other hand, it would be a good idea to visit the gun shop in Oak Junction to see if it had any shotgun shells for sale.