Is-A-Man (A J.T. Edson Standalone Western)

by J. T. Edson

  Despite the shock she received, Should-Be-A-Boy had been sufficiently well trained that she responded to the danger instinctively. What was more, offering testimony to the thoroughness with which Brother-To-The-Hawk had instructed her, she did not even need to think which of the weapons on her person was best suited to her immediate needs. Nor, despite it being the first time she had to put her lessons to serious use, did she panic or become flustered.

  Turning her right hand palm out, with its thumb coiling over the spur of the hammer, Annie closed it about the walnut grips and, while twisting the short barreled Colt 1860 Army Model revolver from its holster, xxx caused the action to be cocked. Turning the muzzle forward, she squeezed the trigger and released the hammer. There was no need for her to aim. Already the brave was very close and swinging up his war club for a blow. In doing so, he inadvertently let the shield move aside.

  Not much, but enough!

  Bellowing loudly, the revolver dispatched a .44 caliber bullet at waist level and aimed by instinctive alignment. Snipping off a couple of the feathers on the rim which served as decoration and a distraction when the shield was being wielded in a fight, xxxi the lead tore into the brave’s chest. With the whoop of triumph turning to a scream of agony, he was spun far enough for his blow to miss its intended target. However, the margin was so close that the girl was compelled to step hurriedly aside to avoid being struck by his body as the impetus of his attack caused him to blunder past her.

  Despite having saved herself from the first of the Indians, Should-Be-A-Boy found she was far from out of danger!

  If anything, the girl decided, her position was even more perilous!

  Belonging to a small party hired to prevent Long Walker and Chaqueta-Tigre from reaching the village of the Pahuraix, the two warriors had been sent ahead to locate them. On the point of rejoining their companions, they were saved from having to report failure by seeing the glow of the fire. Sending a younger warrior who was with them to fetch the rest, they had left their horses and began to move in on foot.

  While descending the slope with all the caution they had not doubted was a vital requisite of staying alive when dealing with two such efficient enemies, the scouts had seen somebody else—a half-breed, going by the color of the hair—approaching the blanket covered shapes. However, before they could take any action, they had observed the result of the yell. Each had concluded that, having made a similar error, they had been saved from falling into a trap laid by their intended victims. Accepting there now would be no hope of taking the chief and the Texan by surprise and aware that the carbine held only a single cartridge, they had decided to wait until reinforcements arrived before allowing their presence to become known.

  Pure chance had brought the pair to where Annie had left her bow. Before either could envisage the possibilities offered by it being there, the incautious approach of their companions caused the alarm to be raised. Seeing the girl darting in their direction, the discovery of her sex notwithstanding, neither discounted her as a potential danger in the forthcoming fighting. The fact that she had reached the clearing without them detecting her suggested very thorough training in the ways of a warrior. Furthermore, the reception she had received from the two men warned they considered her to be a friend. All of which meant the scouts would have to deal with her before giving any attention to their main quarry.

  Although the second brave had halted and brought up his Springfield carbine, his objective was not either of the men they had been seeking. However, he had been prevented from using it by the man with the war club coming between him and what he had realized, regardless of the obvious indications of female gender, presented all the danger to be expected from a Comanche brave. One who had not long been a tuivitsi, maybe, but already capable of proving a most dangerous antagonist. The way in which the revolver was used gave unmistakable proof of that. However, he was in an ideal position to open fire as his stricken companion stumbled out of the way.

  Fortunately for Annie, although making for the shelter of the bushes, Long Walker and Chaqueta-Tigre had been looking over their shoulders towards the source of what each realized was almost certainly a threat to their lives. Discovering the girl was not accompanying them, they had concluded she was going to retrieve the bow she had left behind when making her approach across the clearing. However, even as they were mentally praising her for acting in such a clear thinking fashion by going to collect the weapon, they saw the Indians burst into view.

  Swiveling around more swiftly than his older companion, albeit not by any great margin, Chaqueta-Tigre was already cradling the brass butt of the Winchester against his right shoulder by the time he came to a halt. The girl had saved herself from the first attacker, but he knew the second would be too much for her. Sighting and firing, he threw the lever through its loading cycle. Without waiting to see what result he had, turning the barrel slightly between them, he dispatched four other shots as swiftly as he could operate the mechanism. By the time the second was on its way, Long Walker too opened fire.

  Caught by one of the bullets, the brave was flung from his feet. As he went, he was squeezing on the trigger of the Springfield when another struck its lock. The action was wrecked, but not before the hammer descended hard enough to discharge the percussion cap. Although the powder charge sent the soft lead ball out of the muzzle, the barrel had been knocked from its alignment. Not much, but just enough. The margin was so close that, if there had been the slightest delay in the damage being inflicted, the shot would have taken effect.

  For the first time in her life, Should-Be-A-Boy heard a sharp ‘splat!’ and felt the wind of the lead passing just above her head. However, instead of being disconcerted by the eerie sound, she kept her wits about her. On the point of giving her attention to the second brave, she realized there was no need. Turning her gaze to the first, she discovered he was still on his feet. What was more, although the shield was dangling by his left side, he was showing signs of returning to the fray.

  Thumbing back the hammer, Annie raised the Colt with both hands to take sight. This time, she tried to send the bullet into the center of the man’s forehead. Although she discharged it a fraction earlier than she intended, she had no cause to feel disappointed by the result. Hitting the man just below the chin, her lead shattered the bones of his neck. Pitched backwards, the club and shield dropped from his hands. However, he sprawled backwards against a bush and hung dying upon its foliage.

  ‘Get out of the firelight, Tuinep’!’ Long Walker barked, acting upon the instructions as he gave them and narrowly being missed by a bullet which flew from the darkness.

  Even as the chief spoke and moved, the action already being anticipated by his companion, the first of the mounted attackers arrived at the edge of the clearing. He was a tall, buckskin-clad half-breed with a vicious face and carrying a most effective weapon. Nor did he leave the two men in doubt as to which of them he had selected as his victim.

  ‘I’ve got you now, Goodnight!’ the man bellowed, allowing the one piece reins to drop across the neck of his horse and starting to bring up the double barreled ten gauge shotgun.

  Looking back and recognizing the speaker, Chaqueta-Tigre knew he could not spin around and use his Winchester swiftly enough to save himself from the swathe of lead which would be hurled his way. However, even as the thought came, he heard the crack of the short barreled revolver. An instant later, the half-breed jerked under the impact of lead. Although he only received a minor wound, his weapon was deflected and its lethal charge of shot flew harmlessly into the air. Seeing his intended victim disappear into the bushes, he concluded discretion was the better part of valor and spurred his horse onwards without trying to repeat his murderous intentions.

  Having taken his briefly interrupted departure from the clearing, Long Walker swung around just in time to see the girl fire and save his companion from the shotgun. Then she followed his advice although many a tuivitsi, particularly after having done so well in what
was probably a first fight, might have become too excited to accept it. However, he also noticed she did not miss the chance to carry out the ritual of counting coup upon the first enemy with whom she had been compelled to deal.

  ‘A’he! ’ Should-Be-A-Boy hissed, as she had been taught was required, tapping the dying Indian with her left hand in passing.

  Swiveling around and coming to a halt on arriving amongst the shelter offered by the bushes, Annie was in a state of elation. Not only had she achieved her first coup, it was attained by her bare hand touching the man upon whom it was counted while he was still alive. Her only regret was that she had been unable to collect her bow. Despite having achieved success with her Colt, she would have preferred its longer range for use in the fighting which she knew was forthcoming.

  Following closely upon the heels of the half-breed, spread out in a rough line, were half a dozen Indians. They were carrying a variety of weapons, all of which they were just too late to use. Brought into the light of the fire, they were instantly assailed by the Winchesters of the two men and the girl’s revolver. The first to appear went backwards over the rump of his horse and two more of the braves followed him to the ground. However, much to her annoyance, Should-Be-A-Boy knew she had not accounted for any of them. What was more, in addition to keeping his horse racing across the illuminated area, the man she had hit managed to retain his hold on the firearm he was carrying. He still had not dropped it as he disappeared amongst the bushes ahead of the others who had escaped the deadly fusillade.

  In spite of being delighted at having counted coup, Annie was disappointed by the way the rest of the affair had turned out. Two of the braves shot by her companions were armed with bows and the other a lance. Even if the carbine which had nearly killed her was not ruined by the bullet, it was the loot of whichever man caused the hit. Therefore, unless he was generous and presented it to her, she would not acquire a firearm as she had hoped to do and provide a most fitting climax to her first fight.

  Listening to the sounds of the hooves fading into the distance, although there was no suggestion that the riders were even slowing down, much less starting to return, the girl hurried through the bushes. Holstering the revolver she had emptied, having no means of reloading until her gelding brought the packhorse with her spare ammunition, she gathered up the bow. Then, seeing the two men were returning to the clearing, she concluded it would be all right for her to follow their example. However, before going to join them, she went to where the man she had shot was hanging lifeless on the bush. Shaking him to the ground, she set aside the bow and, taking out the Green River knife, she deftly removed his scalp.

  ~*~

  ‘What do you think, ma’am,’ Chaqueta-Tigre asked in English, knowing Chief Long Walker could understand. ‘Will the Pahuraix join the other bands at Fort Sorrel and talk about signing a treaty to go on to a reservation?’

  ‘I think they might,’ replied the woman to whom the question was directed, speaking the same language in a way which showed she did not often use it. ‘They were certainly impressed by what you said and seeing what one of those repeating rifles of yours are capable of doing. By the way, thank you again for giving Annie such a fine present.’

  ‘She earned it,’ the bearded white man declared with the accent of a well-educated Texan. ‘That damned ’breed would have killed me if she hadn’t shot him in time.’

  At the conclusion of the dance given by Singing Bear to celebrate Should-Be-A-Boy’s first success as a warrior, being his pairaivo, Becky Ingraham had been told to escort the guests of honor to the tipi provided for them. She had found the business which brought them to the village most interesting, albeit disturbing, as she had seen how it might affect the future for herself and her daughter. Therefore, she had been pleased to be given an opportunity to discuss the situation.

  With the surviving attackers departed and those left behind found to be dead, Annie had thanked Long Walker and his companion for saving her from being shot. In turn, to her amazement and delight, she had received from Chaqueta-Tigre an expression of his gratitude for her quick action in dealing with the half-breed which far surpassed anything she would have envisaged. Opening the pack, he had taken out and given her a Winchester Model of 1866 carbine and two boxes of cartridges.

  Over the meal they had when her horses arrived in response to the whistle, the girl had learned that the half-breed and the Kaddo Indians he had hired had been sent to prevent the two men delivering a message of importance to the Pahuraix band. However, it was not until half way through the dance to honor her achievement that she had learned what this was. After having described how competently she had stalked them, without mentioning the error she had committed, Long Walker had praised her for her conduct during the attack and she had been accorded the acclaim such a feat deserved. With the story told, at the request of Brother-To-The-Hawk, the Pehnane chief had explained the reason he and Chaqueta-Tigre—known as a brave warrior, albeit one against whom some of the braves had occasionally been in contention—were paying the visit.

  At the request of the United States’ Government, the Long Walker and—although he had never been in the Army, but was actively engaged in the cattle business which was of major importance to the economy of Texas xxxii —Colonel Charles Goodnight were trying to persuade all the other Comanche bands to attend a meeting at Fort Sorrel and discuss making peace. Speaking eloquently, Long Walker had explained the advantages of being taken on to a reservation. He had also warned that the good old days of raiding and riding the war trail were coming to an end. Not only did the white men have far larger numbers of soldiers available than ever before, even though the medicine of the Devil Gun had failed to produce the promised effect when put to the test, but they were now armed with much more efficient weapons. The demonstration of how rapidly a Winchester rifle could be fired and reloaded had been a telling argument. Every experienced warrior had realized such a device could be carried by a horseman and give him a potential far beyond anything their own arms could attain. Having been promised by the ‘old man’ chiefs that the matter would be discussed at length in the morning and they would be informed of the decision, the guests had relaxed and the festivities had continued without further reference to the matter until it was raised as they were being taken to their sleeping quarters.

  ‘How will my daughter and I be affected if the treaty is signed?’ Becky inquired, the death of Annie Wishart a few weeks earlier having left her the only white person in the village.

  ‘You’ll be able to go back to your own people,’ Goodnight replied.

  ‘Our own people,’ Becky said, looking around her. ‘We won’t be compelled to do it, will we?’

  ‘Don’t you want to go back?’ the rancher queried, although he could guess what lay behind the conversation.

  ‘I’ve lived with the Pahuraix for a long time and Tuinep’—Annie—has never known any other life,’ the woman replied quietly, yet just a trifle defensively, wondering what the bearded man would make of her reaction to the possibility of returning to live amongst her own kind. ‘Do you think Annie in particular would be accepted, Chaq—Colonel?’

  ‘I’ve known some of mixed blood who are,’ Goodnight answered and, although he knew there was one very important difference, went on with a gesture towards his companion. ‘Long Walker’s grandson is for one.’

  ‘Cuchilo was mixing with white people from an earlier age than Tuinep’ is now,’ the chief pointed out. ‘She would find it very difficult to change her ways.’

  ‘That’s for sure,’ Goodnight supported. ‘The way she fought in that clearing yesterday and took the scalp of the brave she killed, she lives and thinks like a Comanche brave even more than Cuchilo did.’

  ‘Then what’s in store for us?’ Becky asked. ‘Will we be made to leave the village?’

  ‘Not if you don’t want to go,’ the rancher claimed, being able to envisage how difficult it would be for the still good looking woman to adjust to living amongst w
hite people and that her daughter would find the change even harder to accept. Remembering he owed the girl his life, he went on, ‘I’ll promise you one thing. Whether you want to come back amongst white folks, or stay with the Pahuraix, I’ll see your wishes are respected and will do everything I can to see you’re all right no matter which way you decide.’

  Fourteen – Her Blood Cries for Revenge

  Listening to the rumble of angry voices which came from around the great council fire, Annie Singing Bear hurried to the wooden cabin in which she had lived with her parents since their arrival on the reservation. She realized that what she was intending to do would be the most momentous act of her life. What was more, if she was allowed to carry out her intentions, she would be given an opportunity to follow a tradition of the Comanche nation which she had believed would never again be needed.

  Much had taken place to alter the life of Should-Be-A-Boy since the night she counted coup upon the Kaddo brave!

  After long debate, the elders and medicine makers of the Pahuraix village had agreed to attend the peace treaty gathering at Fort Sorrel. On arriving, the delegation had found that although equally large contingents of the Pehnane, Yamparikuh, Dertsanayehka, Tanima, Mulsane and Kweharehnuh bands were present, the Wawai had followed the advice of their medicine woman, Fire Dancer. Not only had they stayed away, they were actively involved in trying to ensure the meeting ended in failure.