Comanche Moon (24 page)

"Rather than arguing, we need to be paying attention to the trail," Call said. With Augustus in such an uncertain temper he wanted to cool things before the argument became a fistfight.

"What trail?" Gus said. "There's no trail. We're just following our noses and our noses are pointed west." "That's what it looks like to me," Long Bill said. "Captain Scull's got clean away.

When do we go back?" "I guess we'll go back when we've gone far enough," Call said, aware that it was no answer.

"Well, but what's far enough?" Jake Spoon asked, thrusting himself into the conversation--and not for the first time, either. Pea Eye Parker would never have intruded when his elders were talking. Pea Eye offered an opinion only when asked for one, which was seldom. He tried to determine correct procedure by watching his elders. Jake Spoon didn't think in terms of elders or superiors.

It never occurred to him that there were times when the two captains might not want to be bothered with a youngster.

Jake just barged in and asked his question.

"We're not to the Pecos yet," Call said.

"If we don't strike his trail between here and the Pecos, I expect we ought to go back." "I think we ought to look in Mexico, myself," Augustus said.

"Why?" Call said. "We had no orders to look in Mexico." "No, but there's whores and tequila in Mexico," Gus said. "Bill and me, we could drown our sorrows." "I ain't going all the way to Mexico just so you two can drown your sorrows," Call said.

"Woodrow always changes the subject when the talk turns to women," Augustus said.

"I didn't know the talk was even about women," Call said. "I thought we were talking about when to give up on the Captain and go back home." Long Bill Coleman, to his own surprise and Call's, suddenly burst out with an opinion that he had been holding in for months.

"A man ought to marry, Captain," Long Bill said. "It's a lonely life not having no woman to hold on to when you bunk down at night." Call was so startled by the remark that he hardly knew what to say.

"I'm usually working at night, Bill--I don't spend much time in a bunk," he replied, finally.

Long Bill's Adam's apple was quivering and his face was red. Call had seen him fight several fierce engagements with the Comanches and exhibit less emotion.

"I don't know that little Maggie Tilton too well, but I do know she wasn't meant to be no whore," Long Bill said. "She was meant to be a wife and she'd make a fine one." Then, embarrassed by what he had said, he abruptly shut up and rode away.

"Amen," Gus said. "Now you see, Woodrow --the sooner you marry Maggie, the happier the rest of us will be." Call was amazed--here they were in the middle of the wilderness, on a dangerous assignment, and Long Bill Coleman, the solidest man in the troop, had seen fit to deliver a public lecture, urging him to get married! Surely the decision to marry was a private matter that need only be discussed between the couple who were thinking of marrying.

Worrying about it while patrolling the Double Mountain Fork of the Brazos struck him as highly inappropriate. It would only distract them from the business at hand, which was rangering. While on patrol he liked to give his full attention to the landscape, the men, the horses, tracks, sign, the behaviour of the birds and animals they spotted, anything that might help keep a troop of men alive in a country where a Comanche raiding party could swoop down on them at any moment. It was no time to be clouding the mind with issues of marriage or lustful thoughts--andthe mention of slim Maggie Tilton did lead to lustful thoughts. Many a night, on guard, he had been distracted by the thought of Maggie. It was just good luck that he hadn't come under sudden attack at such a moment.

Long Bill, embarrassed by his own impertinence, avoided Call for the rest of the day.

Augustus, as surprised by Long Bill's statement as Call had been, thought it best to avoid the subject of marriage for the rest of the day.

That evening, as soon as he'd had coffee and his bite, Call walked away from the campfire and sat by himself all night.

"I doubt he'll marry her, Gus," Long Bill whispered to Gus McCrae.

"I doubt it too," Gus said. "He ought to, though. You're right about that, Bill."

In the middle of the next afternoon they heard the crack of gunshots from some low, rocky hills to the north. Then a dog bayed, a hound of some kind. They had just watered their horses at a thin trickle of creek, with a few wild plum bushes scattered along it. While the horses were taking in water and the men relieving themselves of it, Deets hurried up and down the little creek, looking at the plum bushes. Of course it was too early in the year for plums yet, but he liked to make note of such things in case they passed that way in June, when the sweet plums would be mature.

When the shots rang out, Deets came hurrying back. There were two shots and then silence, except for the hound.

Since the party was so small, Call and Augustus decided they had best stay together. They could not afford to send one man to scout--he might be surrounded and cut down.

"That ain't a real hound," Augustus ventured. "It's a damn Comanche, imitating a hound. They can imitate anything, you know-- Indians can." All during his years as a ranger, Augustus had been prone to anxiety because of the Indians' well-known ability to perfectly mimic birdsongs and animal sounds. He had never actually caught an Indian imitating a bird, but he knew they could.

Long Bill Coleman shared this particular anxiety.

"That's Indians for sure, Captain," he said. "They're trying to make us think there's a hound over in those rocks." Call didn't share the anxiety. Deets himself could mimic several animals and most birds --he could perfectly imitate the snuff an armadillo makes when startled, and Deets wasn't an Indian. Besides, there was an abundance of wildlife, birds and animals, that did an excellent job of making their own sounds.

The ridge of shaley rock where the shots had come from looked uninviting, though. The ridge wrinkled the prairie for miles and could easily shelter an ambushing war party.

"They're there, Woodrow," Augustus said.

"They're just waiting till we get closer.

Look to your weapons, boys." Young Jake Spoon was so terrified that he felt frozen. He put his hand on his pistol but was too scared to pull it out. If an Indian did come running at him Jake felt the fright alone would kill him. He realized he had been wrong not to stay in town. He felt as good as dead and just hoped the termination would be as quick and painless as possible.

"Well, if that's a Comanche, he not only sounds like a dog, he looks like a dog," Call said--a large gray hound had just appeared, trotting back and forth amid the rocks.

Long Bill felt immediate relief.

"Why, I know that dog," he said. "That's old Howler, Ben Lily's dog. Ben probably shot a bear. That's all he does, shoot bears." "I doubt there's many bears out in this country," Gus said.

"There's one less now--Ben Lily, he's deadly on bears." The sight of the large gray dog dispelled the general apprehension. As they drew closer to the rocky ridge the hound started howling again, a dismal sound, Pea Eye thought. He had never been overly fond of the canine breeds.

Sure enough, when they clattered over the rocks that covered the ridge, they came upon a large, stooped man in buckskin clothes, skinning a young brown bear. The man's thick hair and long beard were evidently strangers to the comb or the brush. He favored them with a quick glance and then went on with his work.

"Howdy, Mr. Lily," Long Bill said.

"What are you doing out here on the baldies?" He had intended the remark to be jocular, but Ben Lily took it literally.

"Skinning a bear," he said.

"That bear's not much bigger than a cub," Augustus said. "If his ma's around here I expect she'll be wanting to eat us." "Shot her yesterday," Ben Lily said.

"Took us a day to catch up with the cub. Howler and me, that's us." Call thought the man looked daft. What use was a dead bear, in a place so remote? Of course he could eat some of the meat, but why take the skin, which was heavy and awkward to transport? Where would he take it, anyway? Yet the man seemed content at his task. He even began to whistle as he skinned, and he clearly had no interest in the rangers.

"Well, if you shot his ma, where's her skin?" Augustus asked. He too was puzzled by the skinning. How many bearskins could a man use?

"Buried," Ben Lily said, a little testily.

"I bury skins. Then if I get caught in a blizzard I can dig up one of my skins and wrap up." "You best be worrying about Indians, not blizzards, Mr. Lily," Long Bill said.

"If Buffalo Hump was to catch you I expect he'd throw you on a campfire and cook you." Ben Lily disregarded that remark completely.

He finished with his skinning and sat down on a rock. He plunged his hunting knife into the ground to cleanse it, then took out a whetstone and began to sharpen the knife. The fact that his task was concluded seemed to put him in a sociable mood.

"You can have this bear meat," he informed them. "I don't eat much bear." Deets had been hoping for such an offer. He immediately got down and began to inspect the carcass, meaning to secure the tenderest cuts. But what was tender, on a bear?

"We've been sent to look for Captain Inish Scull," Call said. "He was last seen going south with one scout. Have you seen or heard of him?" The name "Scull" seemed to excite the man-- he looked at the group with interest for the first time.

"I know Scull," Ben Lily said. "Took on a hunt once, over east. He wanted to shoot bear and we shot 'em. One bear got into the canebrakes and Scull crawled in after him and shot him. He was a small fellow. He went right into that cane and shot that quick little bear." "That's him, he's a hunter," Augustus said. "We need to find him if we can." Ben Lily was carefully folding the bloody bearskin.

"Ain't seen Scull since that hunt over east," he said. "I'd know him if I seen him, but I ain't seen him. I expect they took him in the big raid." All the rangers were startled by the remark.

"Big raid? What big raid?" Gus asked.

Ben Lily looked at them with genuine astonishment.

"The big raid," he repeated. "Ain't you seen any dead? I buried six dead just yesterday, back up this creek. Six dead-- trying to farm where they oughtn't to farm. Took me all morning to bury them. I'd have caught this cub sooner if I hadn't had to do that burying." "We've been on the trail for two weeks," Call said. "We don't know anything about a raid. Was it Comanches?" "It was Buffalo Hump," Ben Lily said.

"He came down off the plains with a passel of warriors--a thousand or more." "A thousand braves--I doubt it," Call said. "People always think there's more Indians than there are, when the Comanches attack." Ben Lily hoisted his bearskin onto one shoulder, and picked up his gun. Then he whistled for his dog.

"Go east," he told them. "See how many dead you find. There's dead along ever creek. I don't know how many men he came with but he struck Austin and nearly burned it down. This wasn't just a few scalp snatchers. Buffalo Hump came for war, and he made it." All the rangers were stunned by his last statement.

"Struck Austin, are you sure?" Long Bill said.

"Struck it and burned most of it," Ben Lily repeated. "Kilt everybody he saw-- that's what I heard." Then, without waiting for further comment or discussion, he took his gun and his bearskin and walked away. He took no more interest in the troop of rangers.

"Do you believe him, Woodrow?" Long Bill asked. "My wife's in Austin--my Pearl." "I don't know why he'd lie to us," Call said.

"Clara," Gus said. "My Lord. I wonder if she was gone when they struck." I wonder if Maggie hid where I told her to, Call thought.

"Woodrow, we have to go back," Augustus said. "If they burned Austin, Clara might be dead." Long Bill remembered the captive they had rescued, Maudy Clark, now demented. What if the Comanches caught Pearl and left her in the same state?

"Captain, let's go back," he said.

Augustus looked across the emptiness they had just crossed--now they would have to recross it, riding for days and days in great anxiety.

"Lord, I wish I was a bird," Gus said.

"I wish I could just fly home." "You ain't a bird, Gus," Call said.

All the rangers, even Deets, seemed stunned by Ben Lily's news. An Indian force large enough to strike Austin and burn most of it was a calamity greater than they could immediately comprehend.

Call felt stunned, too. The first time he and Augustus had gone into the Pecos country, with a small surveying troop, nine Comanches led by Buffalo Hump had attacked them, killed three men, and captured their ammunition. None of the nine Comanches had been so much as grazed by a ranger bullet. If a thousand warriors had indeed come into the settlements, there might be little to defend, by the time they reached Austin.

"You ain't a bird," he said, again, to Gus.

"We can't fly it--we'll have to ride it, and we don't want to wear out these horses, because horses won't be easy to find, on the way back.

Buffalo Hump's probably run off most of the horses from the ranches out this way." "I don't care about the dern horses, I just hope he ain't took my wife," Long Bill said. "Took her or kilt her. I don't think I can do without my Pearl. I should never have left her, not to come on no silly chase like this." Augustus, though heartsick himself, saw the anguish on Long Bill's face and thought if he joshed him a little it might help.

"Now, Billy, don't worry," he said.

"Pearl's too bossy to steal. She'd argue those Comanches to a frazzle. I expect she'll be there ready to boss you, when we get back." The witticism had no effect. Long Bill looked no less anguished. The rangers sat in silence while Deets finished taking what he hoped was tender cuts of the bear meat.

"I guess Captain Scull will have to find his own way back," Call said, looking south.

Then he turned his horse and the little troop began the long ride home, every man wondering what they would find when they got there.

Buffalo Hump took only one man with him when he went on to the Great Water. He took Worm, the medicine man. The glory of the great raid was over; the Comanches had harassed and murdered the Texans in town after town, and had even defeated a company of bluecoat soldiers who charged at them foolishly, not realizing how many warriors they faced. By then the Comanches were driving more than a thousand stolen horses; the bluecoats managed to separate off a few of the horses but then they had to leave them and flee for their lives. One soldier whose horse went lame fell behind--when his gun misfired Blue Duck killed him with a lance, a thing that would have made Buffalo Hump proud had Blue Duck not spoiled his coup by bragging about it excessively around the campfire that night. It was no great feat to kill a white soldier whose horse was lame and whose gun wouldn't shoot. Blue Duck also bragged excessively about his rapes.