Comanche Sunset

by Rosanne Bittner

  A few minutes later the rain began to lighten. Everyone boarded, taking their original seats, and Wade climbed up top while Ernie took his position next to Nick, rifle in hand. Nick pushed off the brake, and the coach again broke away, heading west.

  The sun came out, and mixed with the heavy rain and wet ground it caused the air to become so humid that Jennifer was sure she could see steam coming from the earth. She soon rid herself of her shawl, and her hair became so limp that, combined with the constant swaying of the coach, it began to come loose from its bun. Soon everyone was sweating.

  Nick drove the team hard, and by the time they reached the next home station, night was falling, and everyone was damp and hot and irritable. Jennifer was disappointed to see that this station was no better than the last. Everyone disembarked the coach, and Wade quickly disappeared into a nearby ravine, emerging several minutes later wearing dry boots and denim pants, and a dry buckskin shirt. His still-damp hair was brushed back and tied neatly at the back of his neck.

  “There’s a pretty decent stream over there if the lady would like to wash a little and wash her muddy clothes,” Jennifer heard him telling Nick. The words warmed her heart, for she knew that although he couldn’t give her the time of day directly, he was thinking of her comfort.

  “I hate for her to go over there alone,” Nick answered.

  Wade looked around. The land was getting more hilly, with more ravines and rocks and brush, more places for Indians or lowlife to hide. “I know,” he answered. “The only ones I’d trust are you or Ernie—or maybe that Adam Hughes. Any of them, I suppose, except Buck or Lou.”

  “You help Ernie with the team. I’ll go with her,” Nick answered. He walked over to Jennifer, explaining the situation. “I’ll be sittin’ at the top of the bank lookin’ the other way,” he explained. “You have a problem, you just yell.”

  With crimson cheeks she agreed, eager to wash both herself and her hair and clothes. Wade handed down her bags, and she walked to the ravine, followed by Nick, who carried a lantern, since it was nearly completely dark. Buck watched jealously, angry that he wasn’t trusted to guard the woman, even angrier that the Indian had been the one to say who should be with her.

  He’d like to get his own dirty hands on her, I’ll bet, he thought silently. He thought how pleasant it would be to win Miss Jennifer Andrews for himself and watch the anger and jealousy in Wade Morrow’s eyes and the eyes of all the others. He had been wondering about the woman who put on such an air of being proper. What kind of woman would come out here to marry a complete stranger? What was she running from? Maybe she even had a husband someplace else, or a stained reputation. Maybe she had done something criminal. Whatever it was, he reasoned that no proper lady would be out here traveling to a place like Fort Stockton.

  By the time Jennifer returned, the horses had been corralled and most of the men were eating. Much as she hated to spend the money, she could not ignore her hunger. She entered the crude cabin, where this time there were four cots besides those for the two men who manned the station. Again she felt Buck’s eyes on her more than the others. It was hot and stuffy inside the cabin, and she dreaded sleeping through another night like last night. She wanted to sleep out under the stars, but that would not seem ladylike, and it looked as though it might rain again.

  The men made room for her at the wooden table, and the cook dished up a bowl of stew that to her surprise was quite tasty. The biscuits were fresh and soft, and she didn’t feel quite so bad about spending another dollar for the meal. She swallowed some strong coffee while the men talked about the storm and who would sleep inside tonight. The door opened then, and Wade stepped inside.

  The cook scowled at him. “I don’t serve Indians,” he said.

  Nick walked in behind Wade. “You can serve this one, Dennis. He’s right civilized, and he’s paid his fair share. He also got my team through a flooded stream today. He deserves a good meal.”

  The cook grunted. “If you say so.”

  Two of the passengers rose and excused themselves to let Wade sit down. Then Buck and Lou also rose, saying they wouldn’t sit at the same table with an Indian. They stormed out, and everyone else finished their meals, while Wade silently ate his own bowl of stew and ate the biscuits as though he was famished.

  Jennifer rose from the table, and all the men remaining rose with her as she excused herself. “You’d best stay close,” Nick warned her. “We’re getting into more dangerous country.”

  “I’m just going out back for a moment,” she answered, meaning the privy. “I’ll be right back.” She left eagerly, embarrassed to talk about such things around so many men, wondering when she would ever have true privacy again or enjoy the company of another woman.

  Inside the cabin Wade finished his stew, then rolled and lit a cigarette. “I didn’t want to say anything while the woman was in here,” he said then, “but I smell something in the air.”

  Nick looked at him with a frown. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean literally.” He looked at the cook. “Any settlements near here?”

  “About two miles off—a little farm. I’ve told the folks there before that they’re riskin’ an awful lot settlin’ this close to the Comanche Trace, but they’re convinced there won’t be no more trouble because most of the Comanche are in Indian Territory now. I told them there have been rumors of a band of renegades out here, led by some half-breed called Wild Horse.”

  The room quieted for a moment at the mention of half-breed. Wade felt an odd premonition that he could not name. He sighed deeply. “Well, I was out looking around a while ago, and I smelled something—smoke—and not just from burning buildings—more like burning flesh. Much as all of you hate the Indian in me, one thing I inherited was a good sense of smell—and hearing. I put my ear to the ground, and I could swear I heard the sound of a lot of horses. I don’t want to alarm you too much, but I’d keep an extra watch tonight. I’ve scouted enough to feel it in my blood when there’s danger near, and I feel it tonight.”

  They all looked at each other, fear on their faces.

  “My main concern is the woman,” Wade continued. “I hope I’m wrong about the whole thing, but if we do get attacked and things get bad for us, somebody better shoot her. I imagine most of you know what would happen to her. She’d be better off dead.”

  Nick nodded and a couple of the others cleared their throats nervously.

  “I suggest no one mentions this to her,” Wade continued. “No sense getting her frightened for nothing. She can’t do anything about it either way, so why worry her?”

  “I agree,” Nick answered. “Don’t even mention it to Buck. He’s got a big mouth.”

  Wade’s face darkened at the words, but he didn’t say anything.

  Outside, Jennifer exited the privy, then gasped when suddenly someone stepped in front of her from beside the outhouse. “Hello there, Miss Andrews,” came Buck’s drawled words.

  Jennifer frowned. She didn’t like the man one whit, especially the way he had treated Wade. She did not reply, but turned and headed for the cabin. Buck grabbed her arm. “Hey, Miss Stuck Up, no woman walks away from me.”

  “Let go of me,” she growled in a low whisper, smelling whiskey on his breath.

  “Not till you tell me the truth—why you’re runnin’ to some god-awful fort to marry a stranger. I think you’re hidin’ somethin’ from us, lady, and I don’t think you’re all that prim and proper.” He grabbed her other arm and jerked her close, her back to him. He wrapped both arms around her, across her breasts. “I think underneath all that proper behavior is a woman who loves bein’ around all these men—temptin’ us—” He nuzzled her neck, and she turned her head away. “Makin’ us crazy. And you’ve been watchin’ me, lady. I’ve noticed.”

  “I’ve looked at you with contempt for your ignorance and stupidity,” she sneered. She brought up her foot, ramming her heel hard into the instep of his right foot. He let out a yelp but refused to let go of
her. Instead he dragged her to the ground, rolling on top of her so that she lay facedown and helpless in the dirt, struggling to get up while he kept his weight on her. She knew she should scream, but she also knew that would bring the others running, and the one most likely to light into Buck would be Wade Morrow. She dreaded getting him into more trouble.

  “Come on, lady, you want me and you know it. You can’t tell me you ain’t ever been with a man before. I know the look. No proper lady comes out here to go to bed with a stranger. Now we’re both lonely, and we both have a need. We can get it over with real quick, and nobody needs to know the difference.”

  Terror and revulsion welled up in her throat, and still she hated to scream and cause a commotion. She would be humiliated, and there would be more trouble among the other men. She thought what a hypocrite Buck was, to be telling Wade Morrow to keep his eyes off her, when all the time it was Buck who was the dangerous one. She squirmed more, and when she felt a hand pushing up her skirt and moving under it to her bottom, she could no longer hold back.

  “No,” she screamed. “Help! Help!”

  Buck immediately jumped up, actually surprised. He was convinced she wouldn’t put up a fuss. “You damn bitch,” he hissed. “Who are you savin’ yourself for, huh? Hughes, maybe? Maybe it’s the big, buck Indian you want, you little whore!”

  His words cut deep as she struggled to her knees. She heard Buck running off. Tears of humiliation and shock overwhelmed her. She could hear men running, heard voices, felt someone helping her up.

  “What happened?” Adam Hughes was asking her.

  “Keep an eye out,” Nick said. “Could be Indians nearby.”

  “Buck,” Jennifer answered, shaking and crying. She put a hand to her face, brushing at gravel that was caked into it. “Buck…attacked me,” she said in one deep sob.

  “Buck!” She wasn’t sure whose voice it was. “Where is he now?”

  “Must have run off,” someone else said.

  “I’ll find the bastard.” The words were low and cold, and this time she recognized the voice. It belonged to Wade Morrow.

  “We all will,” someone else said. She heard them running about, heard someone yell that he had located Buck.

  “I…don’t want…to cause trouble,” she sobbed to Adam Hughes as the man led her back to the cabin.

  “You didn’t cause it. Buck did,” the man answered.

  Jennifer cringed as she heard the sounds of shouts and fists then. “Let him have it, Indian,” someone shouted. Her heart ached with sorrow and fear for Wade Morrow. Again he was fighting a white man in her defense. Hughes led her inside the cabin and she sank down on one of the cots while the man got a pan of water and a rag for her to wash the dirt from her face.

  “Hold it! Hold it,” she heard someone outside shout. “You’re killin’ him!”

  “Get hold of him! Get him off there. He’s had enough,” someone else yelled.

  “I think we all should have a turn at him,” came another voice. “He’s caused trouble this whole trip.”

  “He won’t be causin’ any more,” she heard Nick say then. “He won’t even get up for a while. Somebody throw some water on him and lay him out for the night. I don’t want him inside the cabin near Miss Andrews. Lou, you’re his friend. You take care of him.”

  “That damn Indian had no right—”

  “He had every right!” The voice came from Larry Buchanan. “If Morrow hadn’t done it, the rest of us would have.”

  The voices came closer then, and a moment later several of them entered the cabin, slowing down and lowering their voices when they spotted Jennifer. She looked down. “You all right, ma’am?” Nick asked her.

  “Yes,” she answered in a near whisper. She dabbed at the dirt on her face, feeling Wade Morrow’s presence as the men brought him inside and sat him down to the table.

  “Soak your knuckles in a pan of water,” Nick was saying. “I hope you’ll be able to use a gun if the need arises.”

  “I’ll manage,” came Wade’s panting reply. “Just get me the water.”

  Jennifer choked back tears, feeling like a sideshow in a circus as some of the men turned to look at her. The life she had led in St. Louis, Aunt Esther and the lovely home she had had there all seemed like another life now, a distant dream. She hated Uncle John even more for causing her to be in this godforsaken, dangerous land. Would her husband-to-be attack her this way on their wedding night, insisting on his husbandly privileges without even getting to know her first?

  She shook as she washed, and Nick chased out most of the men. The room grew suddenly silent, as Wade sat soaking his knuckles, and Nick himself finally left to check on Buck. Only the cook was left inside, and he was turned away, washing a pan. Jennifer raised her eyes to see Wade looking at her with deep concern and a trace of his anger with Buck still showing. She knew in that instant that this was a man who would protect his woman at all costs, a man who would be patient and kind, a man who was brave and skilled. The feelings she was having at the moment surprised her, and she dropped her eyes.

  “You all right?” he asked then. “Did he hurt you?”

  She swallowed, shaking her head. “I just…scraped my face in the dirt.” Her voice was a near whisper. “Thank you,” she added. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “He had it coming. I needed to light into him for more reasons than what he just did. That’s the only way to shut the mouth of a man like that.” He sighed deeply, thinking how there could be Comanche raiders nearby. They might all be dead by morning. He felt a keen disappointment that he would never get to know Miss Jennifer Andrews better. If the raiders didn’t finish them all off, the fact still remained Miss Andrews was headed for Fort Stockton to be married; and that even if she wasn’t, a man like himself could never get close to her, for her own sake as well as his own. Besides, why would such a lovely young lady from a fancy place like St. Louis give a half-breed a second thought; but then Rebecca had. Still, look what it had cost both of them.

  He took his hands from the water, drying them long enough to roll and light a cigarette. He glanced at Jennifer again, hoping no renegades would come. He could not imagine having to put a bullet into that pretty head. What a terrible shame and waste that would be.

  Chapter Nine

  Those who knew raiding Comanche could be nearby slept restlessly, including Wade. Dawn broke peacefully, a mockingbird sitting in a nearby cactus plant giving out a variety of cheerful calls. In the distant foothills to the west, an abundant array of wildflowers bloomed.

  Wade rose, aching from the fight and from lack of sleep; but his ankle felt better. With the eyes of a hawk he again scanned the horizon, listening intently, sniffing the air, his senses as alive as that of a wolf. He caught the lingering smell of smoke, but could see nothing. The night before it had been too dark to see the lay of the land. As morning broke he could see that they were in hillier land. The gradual slopes created enough of a barrier so that a settlement, or Indians, just over the next hill would not be seen. It was ideal country for raiders.

  Soon everyone was up and ready to go, after eating a breakfast of ham and eggs. This time Wade was invited to join them, but he noticed Jennifer did not eat. She packed her bag and said she would wait outside.

  Nick finished his own coffee and leaned over to Wade. “What do you think…about your suspicions?” he asked him. “I figured if there’s Comanche out there, they would have attacked us this mornin’.”

  “Maybe. Then again maybe they’re waiting until we leave. We’d be a lot more vulnerable away from this cabin.”

  “You still think they’re out there then?”

  Wade swallowed a piece of ham. “That’s my guess. I could be wrong.”

  Nick sighed. “I have to decide whether to keep goin’,” he said, rubbing his whiskered chin. “Thing is, the farther we go, the closer we’ll be to Fort Stockton and Fort Davis, and the less likely the Comanche will attack. Besides that, there’s plenty of men along who
know how to use a rifle. Raidin’ Comanche don’t usually ride in very big packs. These are the independent ones—the ones who refuse to stay on the reservation. They act pretty much on their own. You can’t never tell what they’ll do. Thing is, they’ve got a lot stronger since that young half-breed has got them stirred up, that there Wild Horse. I wish I knew if this was part of Wild Horse’s band.”

  “You think we should keep going then?”

  “I don’t think we have a whole lot of choice. I’ve got a schedule to keep, and we drive these coaches through anything. I’ve drove through this country plenty of time. There’s always the threat of attack. If I stopped or turned back every time there was this kind of danger, the stage line would fold. Them Indians have to see we don’t scare easy. Besides, they don’t usually attack stagecoaches. There’s not that much on a coach that they need. They’re more likely to wait for a supply train to come along.”

  “Whatever you think. I’ll help however I can till you reach Fort Stockton.”

  “Well, this strip between here and El Paso has always been dangerous. That’s why they brought in soldiers, except that now with the threat of war back East, they’ve left hardly enough men at the forts to do any good for the border settlers. The Comanche know our defenses are weakened, and they’re takin’ advantage of it while they can.”

  Nick rubbed at his eyes and sighed, rising from the table. “It’s the same old story,” he continued. “The government says they’ll send help, but they never follow through, and they ain’t got no idea of the troubles out here. You can’t hardly blame some of these people out here for the way they feel about the Comanche, Wade. There ain’t hardly a person in Texas who ain’t lost loved ones or neighbors or whatever to them savages.”

  “I know that. But maybe if some of the treaty promises were kept, things would be better.”

  “Maybe. But the biggest problem is a whole passel of Comanche chiefs can sign a treaty—but it don’t mean nothin’ to the young warriors. By Comanche law, anybody that don’t sign don’t have to abide by the treaty. They’re a real independent people. One man can’t speak for another. This Wild Horse, though, he seems to have more control than some Comanche chiefs do. He’s led most of the bloody raids that have been goin’ on in these parts.” Nick put on his hat. “We’d better get started.” Their eyes held, both men knowing the danger that lay ahead. “You know what to do with the woman if things should get bad.”