Read Online Dead Man's Walk by Larry McMurtry - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Larry McMurtry
Tags: Fiction, Literary, General, Historical, Action & Adventure, Western Stories, Texas, Westerns, Cultural Heritage, Texas Rangers, Comanche Indians, McCrae; Augustus (Fictitious Character), Call; Woodrow (Fictitious Character)
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plan to raid Chihuahua City and no great war party, hundreds of warriors strong, headed down from the Llano Estacado to terrorize the settlements in Mexico and Texas. It might all simply be the ravings of an old woman who was afraid of having her nose cut off.
But if what the old woman said was true, then the settlements needed to be warned. That many warriors moving south would threaten the whole frontier. All the farms west of the Austin-San Antonio line would be vulnerable--even half a dozen warriors split off from the main bunch could burn homesteads, steal children, and generally wreak havoc.
The devil of it was that they were just at the midpoint of their exploration, as far from the settlements to the east as they were from the Pass of the North. Striking on west to El Paso might be the safest option for his troop--the war trail ran well east of El Paso. On the other hand, Buffalo Hump already knew they were there, and knew he was only up against a few men. If he had a large force at his disposal, he might pursue them simply for his pleasure. He no doubt knew that the two scalp hunters were with them. Scalping a scalp hunter was a pursuit that would interest any Indian, Comanche or Apache.
Turning east would mean the end of their mission--and they were only a week or two from completing it--and would also take them directly across the path of the raiders, if there were raiders. They would have to depend on speed and luck, if they turned east.
What was certain was that a decision had to be made, and made soon. He had no shackles on his men--Rangers mostly served because they wanted to; if they stopped wanting to, they might all do what Shadrach had just done. They might just ride off. The youngsters, Call and McCrae, would stay, of course. They were too green to strike out for themselves. But the more experienced men were unlikely to sit around and wait for his decision much past sunup. The sight of the buffalo lance sticking out of Augustus McCrae's hip was vivid in their minds. They wouldn't be inclined to play cards, or solicit Matilda, or shoot at cactus pods, not with a big war party swooping down the plains toward them.
The Major sighed. Going to jail in Baltimore was beginning to look like it might have some advantages. He walked over to Bigfoot--the tall scout was idly chewing on a chaparral twig.
"That old woman's blind," the Major said.
"Do you think she was right about the raiding party?
Maybe Shadrach misunderstood her about the figures. Maybe she was talking about some raid that took place thirty years ago." Bigfoot spat out the twig. "Maybe," he said. "But maybe not." Bigfoot was thinking about how lucky the two young Rangers were--young Gus particularly. To walk right up on Buffalo Hump and live to tell about it was luck not many men could claim. Even to have seen the humpbacked chief was more than many experienced men could claim. He himself had glimpsed Buffalo Hump once, in a sleet storm near the Clear Fork of the Brazos, several years earlier. He had stepped out of a little post-oak thicket and looked up to see the humpbacked chief aiming an arrow at him. Just as Buffalo Hump loosed the arrow, Bigfoot stepped on an ice-glazed root and lost his footing. The arrow glanced off the bowie knife stuck in his belt. He rolled and brought his rifle up, but by the time he did, the Comanche was gone. That night, afraid to make a fire for fear Buffalo Hump would find him, he almost froze. The large feet that produced his nickname turned as numb as stone.
Now the Major was stumping about, trying to convince himself that Shadrach and the old Comanche woman were wrong about the raiding party. The men were scared, and with good reason; the Major had still not been able to think of an order to give.
"Damn it, I hate to double back," the Major said. "I was aiming to wet my whistle in El Paso." He mounted and walked his sorrel slowly around the camp for a few minutes--the horse was likely to crow-hop on nippy
But if what the old woman said was true, then the settlements needed to be warned. That many warriors moving south would threaten the whole frontier. All the farms west of the Austin-San Antonio line would be vulnerable--even half a dozen warriors split off from the main bunch could burn homesteads, steal children, and generally wreak havoc.
The devil of it was that they were just at the midpoint of their exploration, as far from the settlements to the east as they were from the Pass of the North. Striking on west to El Paso might be the safest option for his troop--the war trail ran well east of El Paso. On the other hand, Buffalo Hump already knew they were there, and knew he was only up against a few men. If he had a large force at his disposal, he might pursue them simply for his pleasure. He no doubt knew that the two scalp hunters were with them. Scalping a scalp hunter was a pursuit that would interest any Indian, Comanche or Apache.
Turning east would mean the end of their mission--and they were only a week or two from completing it--and would also take them directly across the path of the raiders, if there were raiders. They would have to depend on speed and luck, if they turned east.
What was certain was that a decision had to be made, and made soon. He had no shackles on his men--Rangers mostly served because they wanted to; if they stopped wanting to, they might all do what Shadrach had just done. They might just ride off. The youngsters, Call and McCrae, would stay, of course. They were too green to strike out for themselves. But the more experienced men were unlikely to sit around and wait for his decision much past sunup. The sight of the buffalo lance sticking out of Augustus McCrae's hip was vivid in their minds. They wouldn't be inclined to play cards, or solicit Matilda, or shoot at cactus pods, not with a big war party swooping down the plains toward them.
The Major sighed. Going to jail in Baltimore was beginning to look like it might have some advantages. He walked over to Bigfoot--the tall scout was idly chewing on a chaparral twig.
"That old woman's blind," the Major said.
"Do you think she was right about the raiding party?
Maybe Shadrach misunderstood her about the figures. Maybe she was talking about some raid that took place thirty years ago." Bigfoot spat out the twig. "Maybe," he said. "But maybe not." Bigfoot was thinking about how lucky the two young Rangers were--young Gus particularly. To walk right up on Buffalo Hump and live to tell about it was luck not many men could claim. Even to have seen the humpbacked chief was more than many experienced men could claim. He himself had glimpsed Buffalo Hump once, in a sleet storm near the Clear Fork of the Brazos, several years earlier. He had stepped out of a little post-oak thicket and looked up to see the humpbacked chief aiming an arrow at him. Just as Buffalo Hump loosed the arrow, Bigfoot stepped on an ice-glazed root and lost his footing. The arrow glanced off the bowie knife stuck in his belt. He rolled and brought his rifle up, but by the time he did, the Comanche was gone. That night, afraid to make a fire for fear Buffalo Hump would find him, he almost froze. The large feet that produced his nickname turned as numb as stone.
Now the Major was stumping about, trying to convince himself that Shadrach and the old Comanche woman were wrong about the raiding party. The men were scared, and with good reason; the Major had still not been able to think of an order to give.
"Damn it, I hate to double back," the Major said. "I was aiming to wet my whistle in El Paso." He mounted and walked his sorrel slowly around the camp for a few minutes--the horse was likely to crow-hop on nippy
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