[Texas Rangers 01] - The Buckskin Line (9 page)

The settlers were distrustful, even hostile to the concept of reserve Indians. It was common belief that raiding parties ventured out from the reservation, then fled back to the army's protection once they had committed their depredations. This was accepted as fact, though some of the warriors now on the reserve had sided with the whites as scouts and fighting allies in two recent major campaigns against hostile Comanches.

Comanches preyed upon other Indians as well as upon the white settlements. They saw everyone around them as either friend or enemy. They had few friends.

York cried, "The federals! They don't do a damned thing to protect white people, but they'd shoot us all to save their Indian pets."

Blessing did not argue. Rusty had a strong feeling that he agreed even if he did not say so. The captain said, "Preacher, we never thought to bring a shovel, but there's a plenty of rocks here. Reckon you and Rusty can cover her decent and then try to catch up to us? We'll move on as fast as we can without killin' the horses."

"We'll do our best by her."

Blessing sought out Gaskin. "Fowler, why don't you stay and help?"

Gaskin was quick to dismount. "If you say so, Tom, but you know I'm ready and rarin' to go on."

York looked down a last time at the blanket-covered body. "We ought to kill them all and send them back to hell where they came from!"

The black man called Shanty rode beside him, talking quietly, trying to calm him. "You liable to bust a blood vessel, Mr. Isaac. You know what happened to you the last time."

Rusty had heard that York got into a violent argument at the settlement and went into some kind of fit. Witnesses had feared for a few minutes that he might die.

As the men rode away, Rusty asked, "Was this lady maybe some kin of York's?"

Webb shook his head. "I doubt he even knew her. But out here we're so few that in one sense we're all kin."

"I just thought from the way he acted . .

"A few years ago, down on the Brazos, he and Shanty went to help a neighbor raise a cabin. When they got back he found his own cabin burned and his wife dead. The Comanches did to her what they did to this poor woman, and killed his two little girls besides. Such a thing has driven stronger men than Isaac York out of their minds."

Rusty and Webb wrapped the blanket around the body and began picking up rocks. Fowler Gaskin made a halfhearted effort but contributed only a few stones to the mound. He kept mumbling about the likelihood that the rangers would run into an ambush. "Tom Blessing don't know what he may be gettin' into."

"He knows what he's doin'," Webb said. "He always does."

When the minister decided the body was covered with enough stones to discourage wolves and coyotes, Gaskin declared, "This sorry mule is about give out."

Webb suggested, "Then the best thing for you to do is go on home. You wouldn't be of much use on a worn-out mule."

Gaskin tried to look disappointed, but the relief in his eyes made him a liar. "You tell Tom Blessing how bad I hate to have to drop out."

Webb was much kinder than Rusty thought the situation warranted. "He'll understand. We all do."

Gaskin rode away, putting the mule into a stiff trot. The animal was not too tired for that.

Rusty wasted little time brooding about Gaskin's desertion. He stared regretfully at the grave. "It don't seem right—no fitten grave, not even a marker, no kinfolks to say good-bye."

"What's here is just the clay, not the soul. The Lord's takin' care of her now.

Bitterness crept into Rusty's voice. "Where was He last night when she really
needed
takin' care of? He could've struck them butchers down."

"It's not given to us to know His reasons. He tests the strength of our faith."

"I'm not real sure about mine right now. I don't think He's even lookin' in our direction."

"Lad, this is no time to yield to blasphemy."

"You think He's liable to strike
me
down?"

"You're young. You have but little notion how cruel man can be to man. You'll learn, though, and you'll need a strong faith to get you through it."

"I'd have a stronger faith if I could see a dozen Comanches layin' here dead."

"You might not like it once you saw it. Be careful what you pray for, lest it be given unto you."

Buffalo Caller, stripped down to breechcloth and moccasins and a few streaks of paint, allowed the horses and mules to be driven past him in a generally northward direction. He held tightly to the rawhide rein of the bay horse he rode and looked southward along the trail they had just made. He saw no one, but he sensed that the Texans were back there somewhere. He had seen them in a dream last night. He could feel them in his bones. A blind man could follow these tracks, and the Texans were hardly blind.

Ordinarily this would trouble him. On most horse raids he took every precaution to make the trail difficult or impossible to follow. But this time was different. This time he had a purpose.

A young brave drew up beside him and studied the tracks. "If we divide the horses it will be much harder for the Texans to follow."

Buffalo Caller felt the prickling of impatience. He was the leader of this raid. The young men's fighting ability was as yet unproven. It was not for them to question his judgment. But he put down the flare of resentment, for this was Black Horse, son of an old friend who had died at Texan hands long ago, after the big raid on Linnville. Buffalo Caller avoided ever saying Antelope's name, though it crossed his mind from time to time. It was not good to speak the names of the dead lest one summon their ghosts. Ghosts were often known to be unfriendly, though in life they had been family and friends. Antelope might feel he had ample cause to be unfriendly because Buffalo Caller had drawn a knife on him to defend the Texan boy of the red hair.

Buffalo Caller thought occasionally of the boy, wondering if he yet lived. Whippoorwill had said he was alive when the Texans took him from her, but only because a Texan bullet had struck down Antelope as he tried to kill the youngster. Buffalo Caller knew that dark spirits could summon all manner of ill fortune to fall upon child and adult alike. Diseases once unknown to the Comanche had spread among them with a vengeance after the white man's coming. The spotted sickness was the worst, snuffing out the lives not only of children but of their elders as well, leaving many lodges in mourning.

The white man had much to answer for.

He had often thought upon Antelope's warning that the boy's red hair was bad medicine and could bring misfortune upon them all. True, the big fight had been a disaster for the Comanches. Buffalo Caller had almost died of a bullet wound and later had had to make his way afoot all the way from the battlefield to the encampment on the plains. Many a long and sleepless night, he had pondered Antelope's warning and wondered if it might have been correct.

In the fight, Buffalo Caller had lost the scalp of the red-haired woman who had been the boy's mother. He wished he could have burned it, for at times he felt its evil had followed him. He had encountered a few white people with red hair in the years since. He had drawn away from them as if they carried the spotted sickness. He had not considered killing them, for he feared the possibility that evil spirits dwelling within them might transfer themselves to him at the moment of their deaths. Shamans had said this could come to pass. A wise man did not risk the displeasure of malevolent spirits.

Blinking against the bite of dust, he looked toward the herd of horses and mules. He could not see the white boy they had taken. He had feared all along that one of the young warriors might take it in his head to kill the youngster as Antelope had tried to kill the other one long ago. That would be contrary to Buffalo Caller's order, but the young men were not bound to obey if they chose otherwise. A war leader could not compel; he could only use his powers of persuasion and hope they were strong enough. He had given his approval for the young men to violate and then butcher the white woman in hope that spilling her blood would cool the fire in their own. She had been a burden anyway weeping all the time. How could white men expect to raise strong sons if the mothers were weak?

It had long been a Comanche observation that captive children should be separated from their mothers as soon as possible if they were to make a successful conversion to the ways of The People. Texan and Mexican mothers tended to exert an adverse influence. This boy, who appeared to be three or four summers old, had the chance to become a good warrior once his mettle had been tested. The young men had been quirting him at intervals and jabbing the points of their arrows into his skin to determine if he was of strong spirit. So far he seemed to be. He had cried a bit at first, then had grown sullen. This morning he had lashed out at a couple of his tormenters. Buffalo Caller took that as a good omen.

He put the bay into a lope to catch up and pass the herd. He noted with satisfaction that the captive boy appeared sound enough, riding in front of a young warrior who had suggested that he might take the lad as his brother. Buffalo Caller said, "He has borne up well. Do not let them torment him anymore.

He rode beyond the herd to where Wolf That Limps was scouting out in front. He said, "We have entered the reserve. We must he watchful and not fall into the hands of the soldiers."

It was well known that horseback troops of the White Father in Washington patrolled the perimeter of the Indian reserve, as much to protect their wards inside from hostile whites as to prevent those wards from slipping away and committing depredations. Buffalo Caller had only contempt for Indians who gave up their freedom and allowed themselves to be penned like cattle, accepting whatever paltry gifts the White Father deigned to give them. A real man would choose to range free, hunting buffalo, raiding his enemies, and living from the land, or he would die fighting, as wild horses sometimes died rather than submit to the rope. Moreover, Buffalo Caller was resentful because some of the reserve Indians had aided soldiers and rangers against those Comanches who still chose to remain outside, living in the old ways. Many a weeping widow had mutilated herself in mourning for husbands who died at the hands of these pet dogs from the reservation.

Most Texans could not distinguish between tribes. Reserve Indians who rode with them against the Comanches had to tie white cloths to their arms so the whites would not kill them by mistake. Buffalo Caller knew that most settlers believed the reserve Indians were taking advantage of their protected status to commit theft and murder in the settlements, then flee back to safety under the soldiers' guardianship. The Texans were chafing at a chance for vengeance.

So was Buffalo Caller. He thought it a delicious irony that the whites themselves might give him that revenge.

Wolf That Limps said, "Would it not be much safer to go around the reserve? The soldiers do not range far. 'They would never see us."

"If we are careful they will not see us anyway. But the Texans will follow the tracks. They will believe those who live on the reservation have made this raid. Sooner or later they will fall upon them with gun and knife. The ones who helped them against us will pay for what they did."

"Are the whites so easily fooled?"

"They are bad-hearted people who do not know Comanche from Waco or Caddo or Kiowa. They will kill our enemies for us and believe they have done a great thing."

The sun had not traveled much farther overhead when a warrior approached from the south in an easy lope. Buffalo Caller had sent him to watch the back trail.

"The Texans are coming," Black Wing said, turning and pointing. They follow the trail just as you wanted."

"Onto the reserve?"

"Yes. But the horse soldiers will stop them soon. They also are coming."

Buffalo Caller had not counted on the soldiers, but after a moment's consideration he decided benevolent spirits were indeed riding with him today. It might be even better than he had planned if the soldiers and the Texans confronted one another. Perhaps some would he killed. Even if not, this would only anger the Texans more against the traitorous people who lived on the reserve. One day soon the Texans would rise in fury, and the Comanches would have vengeance upon those who had brought the rangers and the soldiers against them.

He caught up to the others and signaled for them to stop the herd. "Now," he said, "the trap is sprung. It is time we divide and disappear like smoke."

The horses and mules were split into small groups whose tracks would be difficult to follow. If the Texans managed to get past the soldiers and penetrate this far, they would be confounded by loss of the trail. It would seem obvious to them that the reserve Indians were the authors of their trouble.

Black Wing said, "You are clever, elder brother."

"I have studied the Trickster. Coyote is a good teacher."

* * *

Isaac York was livid. "See there, Tom, what I been tellin' you? These tracks have led us straight onto the reserve."

Blessing appeared torn, believing even as he wished he did not. "Don't you think I can see for myself?"

"You didn't want to, but there's the evidence right before your eyes. How much longer we got to put up with this before we do what we ought to've done before they ever moved them red heathens in here?"

"The agents've said all along that they're keepin' the reserve Indians under control. I can't say I trusted them all, but I trusted Robert Neighbors." Neighbors was the chief agent, approved by both the federal government and the governor of Texas.

"That dead woman back yonder tells you he lied. She tells you they all lied. We'd just as well have a rattlesnake den in our backyard as to have this reserve here."

"I don't know what we can do about it."

"We're fixin' to get a chance. Yonder come the yellow-legged soldiers."

Rusty turned to look in the direction York pointed. A small federal patrol—he counted seven men—moved rapidly up from their right flank. The officer in the lead waved his hand as a signal for the Texans to halt.