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Authors: Joe R. Lansdale
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trying to outrun them Kiowa, not with Millie clinging to the back, and me running alongside. They’d have been on us quick and things would have been over for the three of us before we could have gone a hundred yards.
The horse tumbled back and kicked once, but Jack had pulled it in such a way that its legs was pointing into the wallow, and the depression of its body there gave us something to hide behind, as long as they came from one side. Another thing we had going was the wallow was deep, and there was a deeper depression on the far side, and therefore the rim of the wallow served as a kind of fortification. It wasn’t the best you could ask for, but it was more than you could hope to get, all things considered. Of course, we was also hoping all our shooting would bring some of the men still at Adobe Walls on the run, but it also occurred to me that shooting might be just the thing not to bring them. We hadn’t told anyone of our plans to chase my horse, and there wasn’t any reason they might not think it was the Indians firing off shots in anger. I was more concerned that some of the other Indians, having broken off from the others, like these, would hear the firing and come to the aid of their companions, making short work of us.
I won’t bore you with all the shooting we done, as you’ve already been told how it was at Adobe Walls, and this was more of the same, but with less Indians, though our situation was no less dire. We was three and they was twenty, and we was in a hole in the ground with a dead horse for cover. Before nightfall, that horse was littered with arrows and holes from bullets that had missed their mark. We had killed one of them and two of their horses, to put them afoot, but far as we knew, no stray bullets had put anybody down under. They pulled the rest of their mounts back down the hill out of shooting range, as killing their horses and putting them on foot was a good strategy anytime.
Them Kiowa lying out there in the grass would pop up from time to time and take pot shots at us, but they didn’t keep their heads up long. They knew we could shoot.
Why they hadn’t tried to crawl around behind us, I can’t say. Maybe they wasn’t fully committed after being defeated the way they was. They might even have seen some sport in it.
It was a bright night and we could see good, and we was keeping our eyes peeled in a serious manner. I have heard that Indians do not like to fight at night, and that’s true of some of them, and to be honest, it’s not my first pick neither. You’re just as liable to shoot one of your own as one of theirs, getting all worked up by the battle. But again, it wasn’t a thought we was holding to, as plenty of Indians have put the sneak on folks at night, and did them in before they knew there was something to be worried about.
Way we was arranged was we was all behind the horse. Jack had pulled the saddle bags with the ammo free, and with it I could load both rifle and pistols. Millie had only a pistol, but she looked determined there in the starlight, and I will admit that her bravery gave me a feeling that might have seemed odd for the moment. There are white men who will cringe to hear this, but I had a mighty strong taste for her right then. I’m not saying even had she been of the same mind at that moment, or that it would have been a smart move for us to drop our drawers and take advantage of romance right then. That would have most certainly led to us having as many arrows in us as that dead horse. But she was mighty fetching there in the starlight, her black hair dangling, her lying on her back, looking away from the horse, watching for any of them Kiowa, coming around behind us.
After awhile, Jack said, “Nat,” and he said it in such a way, I knew he was trying to draw me near to him. I inched up, and soon as I did, Millie said, “You might as well tell the both of us outright. It’s not like I haven’t grown accustomed to bad news, and am
The horse tumbled back and kicked once, but Jack had pulled it in such a way that its legs was pointing into the wallow, and the depression of its body there gave us something to hide behind, as long as they came from one side. Another thing we had going was the wallow was deep, and there was a deeper depression on the far side, and therefore the rim of the wallow served as a kind of fortification. It wasn’t the best you could ask for, but it was more than you could hope to get, all things considered. Of course, we was also hoping all our shooting would bring some of the men still at Adobe Walls on the run, but it also occurred to me that shooting might be just the thing not to bring them. We hadn’t told anyone of our plans to chase my horse, and there wasn’t any reason they might not think it was the Indians firing off shots in anger. I was more concerned that some of the other Indians, having broken off from the others, like these, would hear the firing and come to the aid of their companions, making short work of us.
I won’t bore you with all the shooting we done, as you’ve already been told how it was at Adobe Walls, and this was more of the same, but with less Indians, though our situation was no less dire. We was three and they was twenty, and we was in a hole in the ground with a dead horse for cover. Before nightfall, that horse was littered with arrows and holes from bullets that had missed their mark. We had killed one of them and two of their horses, to put them afoot, but far as we knew, no stray bullets had put anybody down under. They pulled the rest of their mounts back down the hill out of shooting range, as killing their horses and putting them on foot was a good strategy anytime.
Them Kiowa lying out there in the grass would pop up from time to time and take pot shots at us, but they didn’t keep their heads up long. They knew we could shoot.
Why they hadn’t tried to crawl around behind us, I can’t say. Maybe they wasn’t fully committed after being defeated the way they was. They might even have seen some sport in it.
It was a bright night and we could see good, and we was keeping our eyes peeled in a serious manner. I have heard that Indians do not like to fight at night, and that’s true of some of them, and to be honest, it’s not my first pick neither. You’re just as liable to shoot one of your own as one of theirs, getting all worked up by the battle. But again, it wasn’t a thought we was holding to, as plenty of Indians have put the sneak on folks at night, and did them in before they knew there was something to be worried about.
Way we was arranged was we was all behind the horse. Jack had pulled the saddle bags with the ammo free, and with it I could load both rifle and pistols. Millie had only a pistol, but she looked determined there in the starlight, and I will admit that her bravery gave me a feeling that might have seemed odd for the moment. There are white men who will cringe to hear this, but I had a mighty strong taste for her right then. I’m not saying even had she been of the same mind at that moment, or that it would have been a smart move for us to drop our drawers and take advantage of romance right then. That would have most certainly led to us having as many arrows in us as that dead horse. But she was mighty fetching there in the starlight, her black hair dangling, her lying on her back, looking away from the horse, watching for any of them Kiowa, coming around behind us.
After awhile, Jack said, “Nat,” and he said it in such a way, I knew he was trying to draw me near to him. I inched up, and soon as I did, Millie said, “You might as well tell the both of us outright. It’s not like I haven’t grown accustomed to bad news, and am
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