The Santa Fe Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “I have,” said Gavin. “We’re takin’ two extra horses for Bonita and Nell. That leaves a dozen. Using lead ropes, Nip and Ash will tie four of them behind each wagon. There’s no herd, so Nip and Ash can act as outriders for the wagons. You’ll be in no more danger and no worse off than settin’ here without water. Comprender?”

  “Sí,” Woody replied.

  Nip and Ash nodded their understanding. It was time for the rescuers to mount up and ride. Laketa followed Rusty to his horse, while Gavin answered a cry from Naomi. Vic waited impatiently, his mind on Bonita, while his companions said their goodbyes. Finally Gavin and Rusty took their leave and mounted their horses. As the three rode away to the south, their companions watched them go.

  “Vaya con Dios, amigos,” said Nip Kelly softly.

  Only Ash Pryor heard him, and he understood. The trio would be facing they knew not how many hostile Indians—perhaps Comanches—and they might never return. Gavin had made allowances for that. A true Texan would save his comrades if he could…

  16

  Being “horse Indians,” the Comanches stalked their prey for as many days or miles as was needed. The trio had been particularly attracted to the “yellow-haired squaws,” and in the aftermath of the attack by the Kiowa, had awaited their opportunity to take captives. The Comanche method was simple. With one hand over the captive’s mouth to prevent her from crying out, he fisted his other hand and knocked her senseless. Thus Bonita Stubbs and Nell Pitkin were taken without a sound, and when they became conscious, each was bellydown over the withers of an Indian horse.

  “Where are you taking me?” Bonita shouted.

  There were only guttural sounds from the rider. To Bonita it sounded like laughter. In the starlight she could see the legs of another horse, and when she lifted her head, her eyes met those of a very frightened Nell Pitkin.

  “So they got you too,” Nell said. “What are they going to do with us?”

  “I don’t think they’re taking us home to meet mama,” said Bonita. “From what I hear, if we’re lucky, they’ll only share us with the rest of the tribe.”

  “Well, I don’t intend to go any farther,” Nell said.

  She sank her teeth into the Indian’s bare leg, letting go when he again knocked her senseless. Bonita began beating the horse’s belly with her fists, spooking the animal. Buck-jumping, it threw her and the Comanche. The third Indian, mounted, caught the horse, while its thrown rider went after Bonita.

  “Diablo squaw,” he muttered, seizing her by the belt. Again he flung her down over the horse’s withers and climbed up behind her. No sooner had he done so, than he felt a wetness flowing beneath him and down his legs.

  “Agua!” he shouted. “Agua!”

  He slid to the ground, seized Bonita by the shirt collar, and dragged her off the horse. Water began pooling in the sand around her bare feet, and the two mounted Comanches thought that hilariously funny. Aware the rest of the tribe would hear of this disgraceful incident, her captor clubbed Bonita with his fist, knocking her down. But she was game. Getting to her hands and knees, and finally to her feet, she began shouting at the top of her voice.

  “What did you expect, you heathen varmint? You dragged me away before I had a chance to go.”

  While the Comanches didn’t understand her words, there was no mistaking her intent, no denying her spirit, and this time, all the Indians laughed. Bonita chose that moment to retaliate. Lightning-quick, she kicked the nearest of the three in the groin. His companions were amused at first, but their fun ended swiftly when Nell slid off the horse and ran. One of the mounted Indians quickly rode her down, only to have her bite his hand while he had it over her mouth. He flung her back onto the horse, but no sooner had he mounted behind her, than she began raking his bare leg with her nails.

  “Garras,” the Comanche snarled.

  He flung Nell to the ground and slid off the horse. She was about to get up, when he shoved her back. She was rolled over, bellydown, and her hands were bound behind her back with rawhide thongs. Her feet were similarly tied together. Another of the Comanches had bound Bonita in the same fashion. Again they were thrown across the withers of Indian horses, and the journey continued.

  “Lord,” said Rusty, as they rested the horses, “I wish we’d had some way of bringing along some water.”

  “We could easily have bought canteens at Fort Dodge,” Gavin said, “but how were we to know we’d end up trackin’ Indians across a desert?”

  “Couldn’t have brought enough in canteens for our horses,” said Vic. “We’ll have to find water for them by tonight, and that’ll mean water for us. Indians got to have water, too, and it can’t be that far off.”

  “Then we’d better be ridin’ on. Our best—and probably only—chance to rescue Nell and Bonita will be after dark,” Gavin said.

  “They must not be ridin’ too far,” said Rusty. “They’re pushing their horses, and they ain’t stopped for a rest.”

  But within the hour, they reined up where Nell and Bonita had rebelled. There were numerous tracks in the sand, including the bare ones left by the girls.

  “There was a puddle here,” Vic said. “One of the girls. Sun’s dried it up long ago, but you can see where it was.”

  “I doubt they stopped for that,” said Gavin. “Comanches aren’t known for their consideration or compassion.”

  “Bonita and Nell was givin’ ’em some grief,” Rusty said. “One of ’em was put bellydown. There’s an outline of part of a belt buckle in the sand.”

  “Here’s another,” said Vic. “Likely this is where they was tied hand and foot.”

  “That’s a pretty good picture of it,” Gavin said, “and it makes me feel better. If the girls can keep their nerve, we’ll pull them out of this yet.”

  “Yeah,” said Vic. “If Nell can unload on them Comanches like she’s unloaded on poor old Woody, them Comanches will be offerin’ us boot to take her back.”

  Rusty had to laugh, and despite the gravity of the situation, Gavin joined in. Quickly they mounted their horses and rode on.

  Back in camp, time lagged. Gladstone Pitkin, Woody, and Naomi sat in the shade of the wagon, and when the burning sun reached its zenith and began its descent, they moved to the other side of the wagon. Wiley and Whit languished in the shade of one of their wagons, with Jania and Laketa. Nip and Ash hunkered beside the chuck wagon exchanging idle conversation with Gonzales. Occasionally, the three of them walked around, relieving their own boredom and that of the others, expressing a few words of confidence.

  “It humbles a man some, gettin’ cut down by an Indian arrow,” Ash said.

  “If you’re referrin’ to Pitkin, I’d have to agree,” said Nip. “It kind of reduces it all to the least common denominator. I’d bet my horse and saddle this is the first time in Pit’s life that he’s had to depend on others, maybe the first time he’s ever taken enough booze to get snockered. It has an equalizin’ effect, makin’ him realize he’s a mortal, like everybody else.”

  “The first time I see the Señor Pitkin,” Gonzales said, “I think per’ap in this place call England, and Señor Pitkin make the rain come.”

  “He did tend to come on a mite strong,” said Nip. “Like he was just a cut or two below God. Leave him here amongst us lesser mortals a while longer, and there’s a chance he may adapt.”

  Nip walked over to spend a few minutes with Naomi, Woody, and Pitkin, while Ash broke the monotony for Wiley, Whit, Jania, and Laketa. All their minds were on the two captives taken by Indians and the three friends who sought to rescue them, so all their conversation leaned in that direction.

  “I got all the confidence in the world in them three gents,” said Whit, “but I never seen ’em go agin a bunch of wild Indians that’s took captives. Is there really a chance they kin git the girls loose an’ all of ’em come back alive?”

  “If it can be done, they can do it,” Ash replied, “and I ain’t sayin’ it ’cause Rusty’s my kin. They’r
e Texans, born and bred, and that’s the first thing a Texan learns. How to outsmart and outfight Indians. Especially Comanches.”

  “Do you think these Indians were Comanches?” Jania asked.

  “I won’t be surprised,” said Ash. “I’ve always heard it said the only thing a Comanche likes better than takin’ scalps is takin’ female captives. The varmints have always had some kind of hankerin’ for fair-haired white women.”

  “Bonita has dark hair,” Laketa reminded him.

  “Indians—especially Comanches—don’t limit themselves to the fair-haired,” Ash said. “Bonita’s young and pretty. That’s enough.”

  Nip Kelly was cautious in what he said, because of Woody’s precarious situation. His intended had been taken by Indians while Woody lay wounded. This morning, he had been forced to watch acting trail boss Gavin McCord ride to the rescue. There were times when all a man had was his pride and his shadow on the ground behind him. Woody Miles had swallowed a lot of pride, passing the duties of trail boss to Gavin, and much more when Gavin had taken over with as much or more determination than Woody himself. Nip had said little to Woody directly, and Woody had left most of the conversation to Naomi and Pitkin. This time, Woody only nodded, while Pitkin and Naomi spoke.

  “Four more hours of sun, and then darkness,” said Nip. “The only relief from the heat.”

  “I’d welcome the night, for that reason,” Naomi said, “except that Gavin, Rusty, and Vic can no longer track those Indians.”

  “Perhaps they will have caught up to the savages before then,” said Pitkin. “Wouldn’t you say that’s a possibility, Woody?”

  “Yes,” Woody replied. “I’d have gone, had I been able, but there is nothing I could do that Gavin McCord won’t try. With Vic and Rusty siding him, they’ll find a way to take Bonita and Nell from those Indians. I’d put my life in the hands of any one of them, and the three combined may be the strongest fighting force to ever come out of south Texas.”

  “Woody Miles,” said Naomi, “you are a noble, generous man. Were you in England, you would be knighted by the Queen.”

  “I dare say she’s right,” Pitkin said, cutting in before Woody could reply. “I must say that events of the last several days have been an humbling experience for me. Frankly, I did not expect you to appoint Gavin acting trail boss, nor did I expect you to take orders from him. It takes a strong man—a confident man—to measure up as you did this day.”

  “Thanks,” said Woody, a bit overwhelmed by the unaccustomed praise.

  Nip laughed. “Sir Woody, I haven’t known you that long, but I’d have to agree. From what I’ve seen of Gavin and the rest of your amigos, I’m ready to believe they can walk on water, if you say they can. I’m a Missourian, but I’ve never known a Texan who would not challenge hell with a bucket of water, if the need arose. I just hope, if I ever have my back against the wall, about to play my last hand, one of you will remember me.”

  Kelly spoke with an eloquence that touched them all. None of them had ever heard him speak in such a manner. There were tears in Naomi’s eyes, while Woody and Pitkin had some difficulty responding. The time would soon come when Kelly would play that last card, and all of them would remember…

  Indian Territory, along the Cimarron. July 16, 1869.

  The three Indians bearing their captives crossed the Cimarron into Indian Territory’s panhandle two hours after sunrise. Bonita and Nell were shoved unceremoniously off the horses. Stiff and sore after the long ride belly-down, with hands and feet tied, they fell, striking the backs of their heads against the hard ground. The horses danced nervously away, when a dozen barking dogs approached. Bonita and Nell were dismayed to discover they were in an Indian village of many teepees. Women stood in silence, while naked and near-naked children peered from behind their long skirts. Several dozen braves approached, while others watched from a distance. One of the Indians knelt beside Nell and ran his fingers through her yellow hair. That angered the Indian who had brought her in, and an argument followed. After much shouting, it appeared that some kind of decision had been made. The girls were released from their bonds, lifted to their feet, and led to one of the teepees. One of the braves shouted, and half a dozen Indian women came forth. In their eyes was a venomous look that suggested they were about to enjoy what was to follow. One of them pulled aside the teepee’s flap, while the rest shoved Bonita and Nell inside. A dozen hands snatched at them, ripping the buttons from their shirts. They fought back as best they could, but their hands and arms were still stiff and numb from having been tied for many hours. Their shirts were stripped away. While each of them was held helpless by two of the squaws, a third began slashing with a knife. Their belts were cut and remnants of their Levi’s ripped away, leaving them naked. The squaws left the teepee, closing the flap behind them. Nell looked at Bonita.

  “What do you suppose they’re going to do with us?”

  “Whatever it is, we won’t be needing clothes,” Bonita said. “Does that give you any ideas?”

  “Yes,” said Nell, shuddering. “We must escape.”

  “Naked, without weapons or horses? We wouldn’t stand a chance,” Bonita said.

  “We haven’t a chance, anyway,” said Nell fearfully. “With Woody and so many of the others wounded, who would come for us?”

  “Gavin,” Bonita said. “Gavin will come, if he has to come alone. But he won’t be by himself. Vic will be with him.”

  “Woody won’t let him,” said Nell. “Woody will try to come himself.”

  “Woody’s no fool,” Bonita replied.

  “I suppose you know him better than I,” said Nell angrily.

  “Yes,” Bonita replied. “In some ways, I do. They are proud men, these Texans. They are a kind of family, Vic says, and nobody can hurt one of them without fighting all the others.”

  “So Gavin and your knight in shining armor will be coming for you,” Nell said, with all the sarcasm she could muster.

  “Yes,” said Bonita, matching the sarcasm with confidence. “They’ll be here sometime tonight, and when they arrive, I’m going to help them turn this Indian camp inside out.”

  “My God,” Nell said, “you actually believe that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” said Bonita, in a more kindly voice. “Woody’s hurt, and can’t ride, but he won’t forsake us. How can you care for him, yet have no confidence in him?”

  To her surprise, Nell Pitkin dropped to her knees and burst into tears. Bonita knelt beside her, offering what comfort she could.

  “I’m a coward, and I’m frightened out of my wits,” Nell wept.

  “I’m afraid, too,” said Bonita, “but I believe in Woody and Gavin, just as I believe in Vic. If neither Woody or Gavin could come, Vic would. They’d have to kill him.”

  “Oh, God,” Nell cried, “if I only had your faith.”

  “Just promise me you won’t do anything foolish,” said Bonita. “They’re holding us for somebody—maybe a chief—and if we can hold out until dark, we have a chance.”

  “I won’t…do anything,” said Nell. “I don’t know what I could do.”

  “There’s really nothing either of us can do, except perhaps get ourselves shot full of arrows,” Bonita said. “After dark, when some of our outfit gets here, they’ll know what to do. It’ll be up to us to listen for them, so we can somehow help them to find us. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t sleep much, belly-down across that horse. Why don’t we see if we can sleep?”

  “I’ve never slept with my bare behind on the ground,” said Nell, “but I’m exhausted, and I’m willing to try.”

  So they stretched out on their backs, removing as many of the troublesome stones as they could before they further injured their already sore bodies. But sleep was elusive, and after a while, Nell spoke.

  “Bonita, are you asleep?”

  “No,” said Bonita. “There are too many rocks.”

  “Bonita, I’m sorry for…for so many things.”

 
; “You don’t have to say that,” Bonita replied. “We come from different worlds, and we each saw this Western frontier in a different light. I suppose it seemed like a step down for you and Naomi, but the Stubbs family was Missouri white trash. Unlike yours, our daddy was an ex-renegade, on the run from the law. Until Wiley and Whit sold that wagonload of whiskey and shared the money with us, Jania, Laketa, and me never had a pair of socks or underwear among us. We had nothing, we were nothing, and that’s why I suppose we just went crazy when we were given those rings by Vic, Gavin, and Rusty. We should have been ashamed of ourselves for…for crowing over them. I’m truly sorry. Can you forgive us?”

  Nell Pitkin was so choked up she couldn’t speak for a while. She only wept. When she was finally able, she moved over close to Bonita.

  “Bonita Stubbs, you’ve always been somebody. It’s the Pitkins I’m unsure of. All of us had to fall off the throne. I just hope Naomi and my father hit as hard as I did. If we live through this, I’ll be a friend to you and your family. Humility is a new and strange feeling, but I think I’m going to like it. Will you help me?”

  “Every step of the way,” Bonita assured her. “Now let’s try to sleep. We may be up and awake again tonight.”

  The sun was noon-high when Gavin, Rusty, and Vic reined up to rest their horses.

  “I’ve never been so dry, and the sun never seemed so hot,” Rusty said. “For our sake and our horses’ we got to reach water by sundown.”

  “The Indians would have the same problem,” said Vic, “so I reckon we’ll be reachin’ the Cimarron before long.”

  “The Indians had an edge,” Gavin said. “Most of their ride was in the dark, without the sun suckin’ ’em dry. We got to be almighty careful, once we reach the river. I expect the Comanches to have a village, and there may be dogs. Besides that, one of their horses or one of ours could nicker and give us away.”

  “There’s got to be some greenery along the Cimarron,” said Vic. “Long before we’re close enough for horses nickerin’ or barkin’ dogs to give us away, we’d best get off this trail we’re follerin’. We can go upstream or downstream to water our horses and ourselves. If we stay dead on this trail, we’re likely to come out across the river from the Comanche camp.”