Ralph Compton Comanche Trail (13 page)

Lieutenant Hudson raised his arm, signaling his men to halt. They had been riding for much of the day. According to Barclay and Taylor, they were nearing the canyon where the Comanches were camped.

“If they have lookouts,” Taylor said, “they'll likely be on the forward rim near the entrance. You might send a few men around to the back side to determine the situation, then signal down if the opening is clear to travel through.”

Hudson had already waved for his Kiowa scout to join the discussion. The lieutenant studied the crude map of the encampment that Taylor had drawn from memory, providing the location of teepees and the corral. “If your recollection is correct,” he said, “there should be no more than a dozen mounts. Their number should tell us if there are members of the party elsewhere, hiding in wait. Our scout will take half a dozen men to the back cliff and determine if the corral is full. If so, they'll use their rifles to do away with the horses, leaving our adversary on foot as we attack. Their shots from above will be our signal to charge.”

Tater, trying to rub away the leg pain that the long day's ride had caused, nodded. The attack would be swift and efficient. He reined his horse away from the discussion to seek a position near the front of the company of waiting soldiers.
If I were a praying man, I'd be asking that the first renegade in the sight of my Winchester's the one who's caused me to hobble about like an old man.

As he rode away he heard the lieutenant's final words. “We'll take the lives of no women or children. They'll be captured and escorted to Fort Sill, as we've been ordered.”

An hour later a shot from the rim of the canyon rang out, and the first of the Indian ponies fell to its knees.

The assault lasted only a few minutes as the soldiers burst through the canyon entrance, firing at the small group of Comanche warriors who had gathered in the center of the encampment. Two fell dead before they could raise their weapons and another was knocked to his knees by an oncoming horse. The others quickly tossed aside their weapons and raised their hands. Clearly, they had been surprised and unprepared.

Behind a nearby teepee, women huddled with the children, their moans and screams echoing through the canyon.

“Bind the savages immediately,” Hudson said. “They've made it far too easy on themselves. By their cowardly surrender they have made more work for us. It will be a long, hard road to Sill.”

He ordered that all weapons be collected and each teepee be searched and then burned.

The scout, arriving from the canyon rim, rode to where the women and children huddled. He began explaining that
their lives were no longer in danger and that they were now prisoners of the U.S. Army. A youngster, no more than ten, spat in his direction.

“Such a pathetic lot,” Hudson said as he let his eyes roam the aftermath. “I find it hard to believe this small band, dirty and sickly and hungry, could have caused so much death and suffering. And where are their leaders?”

Barclay approached the lieutenant. He and Taylor had just come from the teepee that had once been the home of the Indians' leader. “Appears we missed one,” Tater said. “The big lodge is empty. Looks like someone took their leave quickly and well before we arrived. Guns, clothing, and blankets were left behind.”

Hudson paid the observation little mind as he focused on the activity of his men and the days that lay ahead. “I'll send a few men back to Dawson's Ridge to fetch our supply wagon,” he said. “Our going north will be slow, so they should have no trouble catching up.”

Taylor shook his head. “You're gonna walk these people all the way to Fort Sill?”

“We've got no other choice, what with their horses dead. It's a tactical decision I will no doubt live to regret in the days to come.”

“You could've kept the promise I asked of you,” Barclay said, “and left 'em all dead.”

Hudson cast his eyes skyward, squinting into the bright and cloudless day. Then he straightened in his saddle. “Mr. Barclay, sir,” he said, “it is they who are the savages, not us. I appreciate your help, but you're free to return home now. I hope you'll be so kind as to thank the people of your fine community for their warm hospitality and assure them that
there is no longer any danger of an Indian raid. At least not from this sorry lot. And if you'll ask them to care for the woman we brought with us, it would be greatly appreciated.”

Taylor's heart jumped. “Woman?”

“I suppose I failed to mention her last night as we were discussing more vital matters. We encountered a woman on the trail who had escaped captivity, perhaps from this very group of renegades. At any rate, she's now being tended by your womenfolk.”

•   •   •

The two men were well on their way back to Dawson's Ridge before they stopped at a spring to allow their horses to drink and rest. “Why,” Taylor said, “did we never bother mentioning that the leader of those Indians back in the canyon was most likely a white woman?”

“Unless that lieutenant's more a fool than I think, he'd not have believed us.”

“And are you now thinking what I am about this woman they're tending to back in town?”

“I'm thinkin' the whole notion sounds crazier than an outhouse rat. But it just might be that the woman who killed your pa is right this minute enjoyin' herself some hot soup and the Christian care of the Dawson's Ridge ladies.”

Magazine's gait was steady, his head held high, as they made their way south. It was as if the territory was familiar and he knew the way, anxious to reach his destination and in need of no direction from his rider.

“I miss my horse,” Tater said. They were the first words he'd said for several miles. It was, in fact, the first mention he had made of that moment in the canyon weeks earlier when his mount had been shot from beneath him. While the
horse loaned him by the livery keeper was a strong and reliable animal, it was not his, not the one his late brother had given him when it was a just-weaned colt.

“What was it you called him?”

Barclay sighed. “Sad to say, I never got around to givin' him a proper name. Should have, I suppose, but I never could come up with something that fit.”

Brother Jerusalem had spent much of the morning overseeing construction of the small church, offering endless suggestions and talking excitedly of the “glorious day when it would be completed and its doors swung open by the very hand of God.” The men who had volunteered to raise the building were relieved when he finally bade them good day and walked off in the direction of the Reynolds cabin.

He was surprised to see that the blue-eyed woman who had been brought to town by the soldiers was sitting on the porch. Her hair was still wet from the washing the women had given it, and she was wearing a clean dress. Her face was sunburned and her lips were cracked; still, she was striking.

“It delights me to see you feeling well enough to be outdoors enjoying this fine morning,” the preacher said as he approached. “I feared you might be bedridden for a time, like the poor Barstow woman. I take it you are feeling better.” He removed his hat and shifted his Bible from one hand to the other. “I'm Brother Jerusalem.”

“It's kind of you to ask,” Kate Two said. “Restless dreams
aside, I slept well, thank you, and the ladies have done so much to see to my comfort that it embarrasses me.”

“You'll find, as I have, that this is a community of good Christian folks.”

“I take it you've been looking in on the other woman who escaped from the Comanches.”

The preacher brushed dust from his coat and nodded. “She was near death when our marshal and his friend rescued her. I view her survival as a miracle.”

“Have you had an opportunity to speak with her about her experiences with the Indians?”

“She's spoken little since her arrival. Thus far she's remained bedridden, waking only now and then to take small amounts of nourishment. Wasn't even able to attend the prayer vigil we held for her. Still, I make it a point to stop by regularly to learn of her progress. I'm told that her strength is returning ever so slowly.”

Kate Two smiled at the preacher and rose to her feet. “That's mighty nice of you. And I appreciate your inquiring as to my own well-being.”

“Would it benefit you to talk of the ordeal you've experienced? You'll find I'm a good listener.”

“Strange as it might seem,” she said, “I seem to have no recollection of the time prior to meeting up with the soldiers yesterday. I'm sure things will come back to me once I've rested, but for now everything is a blank. It's as if part of my life has been taken from me.”

“It could be that things you've experienced are best locked away, the manner in which God is offering you His protection.”

She smiled again. “You seem a good man, Brother Jerusalem. There's coffee brewing inside. If your time permits,
perhaps you would like to have a seat and I'll fetch you a cup. It's such a pleasure having someone to talk with.

“Last night,” she said as she returned, “I believe I heard talk of the soldiers planning to make an attack on some nearby Indian camp.”

He took the cup of coffee and sat beside her. “They left before daylight,” he said. “My understanding is that it's the camp where the Barstow woman was being held. The marshal and Mr. Barclay rode along to point the way.”

“I'm sure you've said a proper prayer for their safe return.”

“Yes, ma'am. Several, in fact.”

“And I will do so as well. How soon can we expect their return? It occurred to me in the wee hours of the night that I've not properly thanked those who found me.”

“It's my guess that it will be tomorrow morning before they're back.”

She rose to return inside the cabin and said, “As unchristian as it might sound, I hope they'll not bother to return with any captives.”

•   •   •

It was late in the day when the preacher saw her again. “Would it be considered improper for a lady to ask a preacher if he'd mind joining her for a brief walk about town?” She had found him in front of his tent, Bible open in his lap, as he was preparing the sermon he planned to deliver on Sunday.

He closed his Bible and stood. “I'm pleased to see you up and about.”

“I just felt a bit of exercise and fresh air might do me good.” She nodded in the direction of the Reynolds cabin. “The women back there have been making such a fuss over
me that I thought I might give them some rest by getting away.” There was a chill in the late-afternoon air and she pulled a borrowed shawl tightly around her shoulders.

“I'm afraid there's little of interest to see,” he said, “but I'd be most pleased to keep you company as you stretch your legs.”

They walked slowly, past the livery and the Social Center, by tents and cabins as a few curious passersby nodded and a couple of children waved. Soon they were on the edge of town, where the church was being built. Leaning against a pile of split logs that would soon become the front wall, he pulled his pipe from his pocket and filled it. “This,” he said, “is going to be the place that draws this community together as one. Without a church, a town is nothing but small parts moving in wasted motion, blind to God's master plan. It will be here that neighbors are joined and learn to love one another.”

“I'm sure it will be a fine church. I expect you're quite proud.”

Moving on, they reached the shade of the oak where his daughter led the youngsters in singing. The preacher asked Kate Two if she would like to rest a bit. “My daughter, Joy, calls this ‘her tree,'” he said. “She says the best part of her day is when she gathers the young'uns under its branches and hears their voices lift up in song.”

“I heard them while I was sitting on the porch this morning,” Kate Two said. “It reminded me of my childhood churchgoing, back when I sang in our choir.”

“I take it you're a woman of faith?”

“Oh my, yes,” she said, gently placing her hand on his arm.

The preacher smiled. “I suspect that's what allowed you to make it through the ordeal you've recently experienced.”

•   •   •

By the time they returned to the preacher's tent, the lanterns were on in the Social Center and the mingling of voices could be heard inside as people gathered to await the soldiers' return. The tent adjacent to Reverend Chadway's was dark, his daughter at the Reynolds cabin helping prepare an evening meal for July Barstow.

“It was a pleasure spending time with you,” the preacher said.

“Could I ask one additional favor?” Kate Two said. “I'd like to check to see that my horse is being cared for, and it appears no one is currently at the livery. I would appreciate it if you would accompany me.”

“I'd be happy to.”

Inside the shadowy building the only sounds came from a couple of horses and a mule pawing at the hay-strewn floors of their stalls. Near the doorway, Kate Two reached into a feed barrel where she'd hidden the Army Colt she'd stolen from the Reynolds cabin.

Jerusalem dropped his Bible when he felt the gun's barrel shoved against his rib cage.

The pleasant lilt had disappeared from Kate Two's voice as she pushed the preacher forward. “Saddle two horses,” she said. “And be quick about it.”

When Taylor and Barclay arrived back at Dawson's Ridge near midnight—they had decided to ride straight through instead of camp for the night—they were surprised to find a number of people milling about in front of the Social Center. Their interest in what might have transpired at the Comanche encampment had been displaced by a more immediate concern.

“The preacher's disappeared,” Mayor Dawson said as Taylor dismounted. “Along with two horses. And the woman the soldiers brought along with them is missing as well.”

Taylor scanned the crowd, looking for Reverend Chadway's daughter. He saw her standing alone near her tent, arms folded, her head down. She had obviously been crying.

“Something bad's occurred, I know it,” she said as he approached. “I've got this terrible feeling.” Tears again came to her eyes.

“How long since you seen him?”

“After working with the children in the morning,” she said, “I spent most of the day over at the Reynolds place, helping tend the Barstow woman. I'm told that some people
saw my father walking with the other rescued woman early in the evening.”

As they talked, Sloan Reynolds approached. “Marshal, it appears the two horses weren't the only things taken. When I went to fetch my pistol, it was gone, along with a pouch of ammunition. What do you think might be going on?”

Tater Barclay said, “If I was guessin', I'd say that woman has taken him away at gunpoint with no good intentions.”

Joy Chadway fainted into Taylor's arms.

The men carried her to the Reynolds cabin, where she was placed in the same bed Kate Two had occupied. Then they gathered on the front porch.

Mayor Dawson paced nervously. “We didn't even know her name.”

“Kate Bender,” Taylor said through gritted teeth. “She's the reason Tater and I come this way. We've been tracking her. She was a killer back in Kansas and continued her murdering ways when she joined up with that renegade band of Comanches.”

As he spoke, Reynolds's wife appeared in the doorway. “Marshal Taylor,” she said, “if you have a moment, July Barstow would like a word with you.”

Her voice was weak, but some color had returned to her cheeks. There was a brightness to her eyes he had not seen when he took her from the Comanche camp. “You know who she is, don't you?” she said as she looked up at Taylor.

He nodded, reaching down to pet Dawg, who lay at the foot of her bed.

July grabbed his arm. “She has no soul, you understand. She knows only evil and lies. I overheard the ladies talking of her leaving with someone.”

“The traveling preacher.”

“His life is in danger, you know. She will use him for whatever purpose she has in mind. Then when she has no further need for him, she will leave him dead.” Her voice was growing weak, and Taylor leaned forward to hear her. “If you go after her, your life will also be at risk. And I wish for your safety. You have saved my life with your brave efforts, and for that I thank you ever so kindly. Because of you and your friend I now have hope that one day I will again see my son.”

“Ma'am, Jakey's being well cared for, by my sister back home. He'll be happy to see you when we return. But first, you have to regain your strength. And I have a bit more traveling to do.”

Tears slid down her cheeks. “I will pray that you return soon.”

Thad smiled as he turned to leave. He took a couple of steps toward the doorway, then turned back toward the bed. “I was wondering if I might ask a question of a personal nature.”

“What might that be?”

“How is it you came by the unusual name of July?”

For the first time in longer than she could remember, she attempted to laugh. “As the story was told to me,” she said, “I was supposed to be born in the month of June and that would be my name. Same if I'd been a boy. But apparently I was a bit stubborn and late arriving. My mama had no other name selected. So it was decided that July would have to suffice.”

“I think it's a fine name,” Taylor said, “and I'm pleased to finally meet you properly.”

Barclay was waiting on the porch. “Seems to me you're attractin' quite a large number of lady admirers,” he said.

Taylor ignored him. “We'll allow the horses a night's rest, then be on our way in the morning.”

“And which way is it you figure on us headin'?”

“I reckon we'll need to sleep on that.”

•   •   •

It was still an hour before dawn when Kate Two used one of the matches she'd taken from the Reynolds cabin and lit a torch to illuminate the cave. She and the preacher had ridden through the night at a steady pace, their horses lucky to avoid roaming rattlesnakes and the prairie dog holes that pockmarked the region.

Jerusalem Chadway watched as she located the small chest and began moving its contents into saddlebags. “What is it you want of me?”

“For the moment, you can turn your head while I change from this dreadful dress,” she said.

He turned to face the rock wall until she again spoke. “As we travel,” she said after changing into pants, boots, and a flannel shirt, “you are to be my escort. If anyone asks, you are a kindhearted preacher taking a young woman to reunite with her mother and father. Exactly where, I've not yet figured out. Our aim for now is to distance ourselves from those who might be looking for us. And in exchange for your agreement to help, I will allow you to live to preach another of your sermons.”

There was a coldness in her voice that caused the preacher to shiver. The gun she'd earlier pointed at him was now in a holster that hung against her hip. She was wearing her
brother's hat. Kate Two, once again in control and filled with confidence, was back, a menacing smile on her face.

“I warn you against any attempt to escape. I'm a far better rider than you and can catch you with ease if need be. And, of course, I have the gun.”

The frightened preacher's only response was to nod.