Chapter 4

When I was almost to the Comanche camp, I bent over in the saddle to take a closer look at what looked like some promising tracks. Thank the Lord! My luck was back and screaming at me to get myself in order. Just as I bent over, an arrow came swishing where my head had been. Naturally, that got my attention, and I looked about to try to spot the source of said arrow.

To my left and just behind me were four Comanche warriors who were watching me and laughing like hell. Either they knew something that I didn't, or they had been chewing Jimsonweed. Well, I was going to bet on the former, though the latter was not impossible. I looked to my right, and there were five more Comanches also laughing. I guessed that they were laughing at how funny I would look roasting on a spit for the community entertainment that evening after supper.

Well, I hated to be a spoilsport, but I was not going to let that happen if I could avoid it. However, I did have a problem: the only easy way for me to go was straight ahead, and that was in the direction of the Comanche camp. Had the Comanches not been so sure of themselves, they would undoubtedly have already charged me, but they were going to let me stew in indecision for a while. That would make the chase all the more fun when I finally realized that I had no where to run.

Well, I was going to make my own sport, so I jerked up my shotgun and rode straight at the group of four Comanches to my left. Apparently, this was the last thing they expected because they just sat there for a moment trying to get their reflexes pointed in the right direction. Meanwhile, I was approaching them at the fastest speed that my horse could run.

When I had the angle right, I fired one barrel at the two men to the extreme right in the line of four and switched to the other two as soon as I had control from the recoil. I fired the second barrel and my calculations had been correct: all four men had been hit and were carrying painful wounds that made it difficult for them to use their bows. They switched to lances, but it was too late because I was already past them and riding for my life.

I headed for an arroyo I had seen in this direction, and I hoped to reach it before any of the Comanches got close enough to do me any real damage. The only missile weapons they had were bows, and I had my new Henry. I was in good shape if I could get to that arroyo in time. It was going to be close because the arroyo was 500 yards away, and my horse was heavily loaded compared to the Comanches' horses.

Well, that was some more of my luck in action: I made it to the arroyo and was able to scramble into it with both my shotgun and my rifle. Of course, I still had my pistols, so I stood a good chance of coming out on top in this little dust up. Unfortunately, I had not yet had an opportunity to reload my shotgun, so that was the first item on my agenda after I reached the arroyo.

Dammit, a couple more Comanches showed up just to see what all of the bro-ha-ha was all about. I now had four wounded braves and seven unwounded braves against me. Shit, if they all charged at once, I did not stand a chance, but I was pretty safe on that possibility. After all, what courage did it take for 11 Comanche braves to charge one White boy? That was the kind of macho stupidity that was going to keep me alive during the coming battle.

The Comanches pulled up just out of arrow range, not realizing what I could do with my Henry. I debated with myself about using the Henry at this stage, and figured that I would just draw in every Comanche for miles if I did that. I decided to stick with the shotgun for now and let the Comanches think that they were safe at their current distance. If they came in about 20 more yards, I could use my pistols, and they knew that. So there were no surprises as long as I held off on using the Henry.

There was a conference among all 11 of the braves, and it was to elect a war chief. One of the wounded men was selected, and the fun part of the event could now get underway.

The first man to ride at me was one of the lesser wounded braves. He took up his lance and rode at me from my left so that he could hold his lance in his right hand as he charged. I figured that, for this one, I could use one of my Colt pistols, so I drew it and cocked the hammer. I was still hungover a little bit, so I was not in much of a mood for fun and games: as soon as he was close enough to be sure of my aim, I fired at the chest of the charging Comanche. It only took one of those .44 caliber balls to put an end to his career, and he fell into the arroyo. He was dead from the fall if not from the shot, so I did not worry any more about him. I just hoped his horse would hang around long enough for me to capture it. I could use the $4 to buy more ammunition.

The next man to try his luck was another of the wounded men, so he, too, was forced to use his lance. He also charged me from the left, and I took care of him the same way I had done for the first man. Hell, if they were all going to charge me this way, I was in no real danger.

The last of the wounded men was very foolish, or maybe not, now that I think about it. He had picked up enough #00 buckshot to be in pretty bad shape, so I now figured that he was just committing an honorable suicide instead of dying a drawn out death from carrying those lead balls inside of his body. He could barely hold onto his lance and stay on the horse, so I had no trouble at all with shooting him. Okay, three down and eight to go.

It was time to get serious! The next man chose to come straight at me and take me out with an arrow. That made things a little difficult because I wanted to preserve his horse if I possibly could. Because I was in the arroyo, his horse's head and neck blocked sight of him through much of his charge. I could have shot the horse and saved myself some danger, but I wanted that $4 the horse was worth.

The man charged to what I guessed that he figured was a good shooting distance for his arrow. At that point, he swerved to his right to take a shot at me. I was expecting that, so I was ready with my cocked pistol. Just as he had drawn his bow to the maximum, I fired. I did not know what he expected, but my bullet caught him a little bit low in the breast bone and shattered it. He was thrown from his horse, and his arrow went flying wildly nearly straight up into the air. Ah, another horse that I could sell.

The next man caught me by surprise. He rode straight at me just as the previous man had done. I was ready for him to turn to his right, but he fooled me. He was left handed and turned to his left to shoot at me. That was almost a fatal choice for me, because I was expecting just the opposite. I snapped off a shot and hit the man in the side, but the shot was not immediately fatal. However, the shock of being shot did cause him to fall from his horse, and that seemed to break his neck. Dammit, my luck was working overtime that time! But, how long could I depend on it?

There were now six men left and I was geared for surprises. Now that the Indians were getting tricky, I switched to my Starr because I had a hunch that I would need to fire more than one shot at the same man before this little game was over.

The next man in line must have figured that I was more of a problem than they had been expecting. There was a conference with the war chief, and two men got ready to charge me. Well, I had five horses that I could sell, so I decided to stop fooling around. As soon as I saw that I had to face two men, I holstered my Starr and picked up the shotgun. I could not afford to chance it, so I decided to sacrifice the horses in order to make sure that I lived through this next contest.