The Rocking R Ranch

by Tim Washburn

  In early September, Percy, along with Isaac and Luis, who was driving the war wagon, had ridden out of Fort Sill with companies from the U.S. Army’s 10th Cavalry and 11th Infantry, forty-six supply wagons, and a large number of Indian scouts, all under the command of Lieutenant Colonel John W. Davidson. After several skirmishes with hostile Indians and long days of travel, it was now late September and they were camped on Catfish Creek, 160 miles southwest of Fort Sill and only 30 miles southeast of where Percy had found Emma’s initials arranged in stone on the floor of the Palo Duro Canyon. And not much had changed geographically during his absence, but what had changed was the army’s determination to put an end to the Indian problem once and for all.

  Davidson had joined his forces with Colonel Ranald S. Mackenzie’s 4th Cavalry and units of the 10th and 11th Infantry and, because of his higher rank, Mackenzie assumed command. Although Percy had never met Mackenzie, he thought him somewhat moody, extremely intelligent, and intensely private. He had a long, dark, droopy mustache that obscured his mouth, and, like all cavalrymen, he was about five-nine and weighed somewhere around the 130-pound mark. And like Percy, Mackenzie had also earned not one, but two Indian names—Bad Hand and No-Finger Chief, after having lost the first two fingers of his right hand during the war.

  To call the battles they were fighting a war would be a misnomer. There were no entrenched positions fighting off a frontal assault and no sustained long-term engagements. Most of the encounters had been running skirmishes that might stretch a few miles until one party called it quits. And there was no one location, the fighting stretching over an area that encompassed fifty thousand square miles. Within that vast open space were three thousand soldiers, hundreds of Indian scouts, a good number of frontiersmen like Percy, hundreds of supply wagons, and an unknown number of hostile Indians from four predominant tribes—Comanche, Kiowa, Southern Cheyenne, and Arapaho. And although the Indians might have originated from different tribes, they were all cut from the same cloth and were tough, rugged fighters who would just as soon kill you as look at you. And weapon type didn’t really matter. It could be a bow and arrow, a lance, a gun, a knife, or their bare hands.

  On the other side, the Ridgeway war wagon was badly outgunned by the army. They had brought out all of their shiny new toys, including new Winchester repeating rifles all around, several ten-barrel Gatling guns, a dozen mountain howitzers, and enough cannons to lay siege to the largest of American cities. The only problem with all of that firepower was that the army needed the enemy to stay in one place long enough to use it and that was the difficulty. The Indians would fight and run, fight and run, over and over and over again, preventing the hunters from ever grasping their prey. Not only was it exhausting, it was extremely effective—at least if you were an Indian. Several times army patrols had found themselves out of position or had outrun their supply train and were cut off by the Indians, forcing thirty or forty troopers to duel with hundreds of Indians.

  Even though Percy had been in the area for a while, there had been no word of Emma’s whereabouts. Nor had there been any sightings of her alleged captor, Quanah Parker, other than that one sighting at Adobe Walls back at the end of June. But Percy knew they had to be there somewhere. The key was finding him.

  Late on the afternoon of September the twenty-seventh, two obviously excited Tonkawa scouts returned to the new camp in Tule Canyon and went immediately to confer with Mackenzie. Percy and Isaac moseyed over to listen in. It soon became apparent that the Tonkawa scouts had found a fresh trail that led into the Palo Duro Canyon. Percy heard Mackenzie ask something about winter camps and one of the scouts nodded. For Percy, that meant they’d finally found a large gathering of Indians. The order was given to mount up, and a short time later they were under way with four hundred soldiers and the accompanying artillery, including the Ridgeway war wagon. Percy rode beside his friend John Davidson as they traveled through the night.

  At dawn, they reached the rim of the canyon and saw the Indian lodges spread across the floor. Mackenzie ordered the scouts to find a trail to the bottom and they soon did so. It was so steep the cavalrymen had to dismount their horses and lead them down single file. Percy asked Luis to park their wagon near the rim and man the gun in case it was needed. The howitzer would be useless once the battle began.

  Davidson moved off to take command of his men, and Isaac stayed with Luis and the wagon, thinking he’d have a better chance of spotting Emma from a higher vantage point. Percy slid off Mouse and began the dicey descent into the canyon. Mackenzie, chomping at the bit, began the attack before Percy even reached the bottom. Melee ensued and soon Indian women and children scattered like rabbits escaping a collapsed den. Percy made it to the bottom and remounted his horse. With no defined job other than searching for Emma, he was unsure of his next move. That changed immediately when a bullet zinged off a rock right behind him. He pulled his pistol and rode into battle. The Indian braves mounted a small counterattack to allow their women and children time to escape then they turned and fled. Percy was watching intently for any sign of Emma, but if she was in that mess of humanity, he couldn’t see her.

  Percy fired at a brave and missed as he rode into the camp. He heard a lot of gunfire but didn’t see much in the way of results. Behind the camp, the canyon stretched on for miles and the Indians were streaming away from their village, leaving everything behind, including their horses. Percy hadn’t been privy to Mackenzie’s plans, but if it was to kill Indians, they were doing a miserable job of it. A few of the cavalry soldiers went chasing after the fleeing Indians and made halfhearted attempts to fire their weapons and it was then that Percy suspected Mackenzie’s plan was much more complex than wholesale slaughter. And that was just fine by him. He holstered his pistol, turned Mouse, and rode up a small ridge for a better view of the retreating Indians.

  By noon the Indians had all escaped and the temperature in the canyon was sizzling. Mackenzie ordered a search of the lodges and Percy didn’t think there was much hope of finding Emma. He could have missed seeing her, but he didn’t think both he and Isaac would have missed her. And he had no idea what Quanah Parker looked like and if he had been there, he was now gone.

  Percy walked his horse over to the river and let her drink and spotted Isaac riding through the canyon. He stood in his stirrups and waved his hat to flag him down then dismounted. Once Mouse had drunk her fill, he led her into the shade of a cottonwood tree and waited for Isaac to arrive, which he did moments later.

  “Damn, it’s hot down here,” Isaac said as he climbed off his horse.

  “Hot up there, too,” Percy said, nodding at the rim. “See anyone that even looked like Emma?”

  “Nope. And I was looking through the field glasses you keep on the wagon.”

  “Well, hell.” Percy sat down, stretched his legs out, and leaned back against the tree.

  “How come they didn’t try to round those Injuns up when they was a-leavin’?” Isaac asked as he took a seat next to Percy.

  Percy shrugged. “Best I can figure is the army has a plan. Even if they’d rounded them up what were they going to do with them out here in the middle of nowhere? Can you imagine trying to corral several hundred Indians for a month while we traveled back to Fort Sill? It’d be like herding chickens. It’s a different story altogether if you force them to come in on their own. And at the rate those hunters are killing buffalo, it won’t be long before they don’t have anything to eat.”

  Later in the afternoon as the search of the lodges was still under way, Percy smelled smoke and stood to find the source. And that’s when he knew his hunch had been right when he saw troopers piling the Indians’ belongings into massive piles and throwing a torch on them. Percy and Isaac walked over for a closer look. Mackenzie hadn’t just ordered the burning of personal belongings, he had ordered the burning of everything in sight including the teepees, the poles used to hold them up, the buffalo hides, war shields, blankets, and even a vast mound of buffalo jerky t
hat the Indians had been relying on to tide them over for winter. While they were watching, Percy felt the ground shake, and he turned and saw a massive herd of Indian horses being driven up the canyon and as they passed, Percy estimated their number at close to two thousand. Notoriously hard for a white man to handle, he didn’t know what Mackenzie had in store for them.

  Percy saw Davidson riding through the canyon and waved. Davidson turned his horse and rode over. “I’ve been lookin’ for you two. Grab your horses and follow me.”

  Percy and Isaac walked back to their horses and mounted up. They fell in beside Davidson and they rode deeper into the canyon. “Where are we goin’?” Percy asked.

  “You’ll see in a minute.”

  “Okay. How many casualties?” Percy asked.

  “One private dead and a few others injured.”

  “And the Indians?”

  “Three KIAs.”

  “What’s that mean?” Isaac asked.

  “Three Indians killed in action,” Percy said before Davidson could answer. “Was that by design?”

  “Partly,” Davidson said. “One of the Kiowa chiefs fired a warning shot before we could get organized, so the Indians were already on the move.”

  “What’s Mackenzie going to do with all those horses?”

  “That’s also part of the plan. He’ll give a few to the scouts and plans to kill the rest.”

  “That’s a shame,” Percy said. “Ain’t no other way to do it?”

  “You want them?”

  “No. Too damn much trouble.”

  “There you go,” Davidson said. “Deprive these Indians out here a way to move around and they’ll begin trickling into the reservations.”

  Percy looked ahead and saw one single teepee that was still standing, and it was being guarded by a couple of troopers. “Who’s in the teepee?”

  “Don’t know for sure. That’s why you’re along.”

  Percy didn’t want to get his hopes up and have them crushed again. “Is it a young girl?”

  “If you consider young to be somewhere around fourteen or fifteen, then yes.”

  “I wonder why the Indians didn’t take her with them,” Percy said.

  “There’s a reason,” Davidson said.

  As they drew closer, a woman’s sudden scream shattered the silence, startling both Percy and Isaac.

  “What the hell are they doin’ to her?” Percy asked, spurring Mouse into a trot.

  Davidson and Isaac matched him. “They aren’t doing anything to her,” Davidson said when he caught up.

  Percy looked at him like he was crazy. When they reached the lodge a moment later, the three dismounted and Davidson held the flap open just as the woman began screaming again, freezing Percy and Isaac in place.

  “Go on in,” Davidson said.

  Percy looked at Isaac and Isaac looked at Percy, neither wanting to be the first man through. Percy finally relented and stepped inside, and Isaac followed. The bottom of the teepee had been rolled up to catch a breeze and there was plenty of light to see and what they saw was a man kneeling next to a woman who was stretched out on a buffalo hide and who continued to moan and writhe in pain. Percy spotted a black doctor’s bag next to the man’s knee and assumed he was an army physician.

  The man turned and waved them forward. “It’s okay. If you’ll confirm her identity, I’ll step outside for a moment.”

  “Is she hurt?” Isaac asked as he took two tentative steps forward, Percy creeping along beside him.

  “She’s in some pain, however she isn’t injured. Please step on over.”

  After a few more tentative steps, Percy and Isaac stood and looked down at Emma’s sweaty face and swollen belly. Both knelt down beside her.

  “I’m sorry, Pa . . . and Uncle . . . Percy.”

  “Hush, baby girl,” Isaac said as he sat back on his heels, stunned.

  Percy turned and looked at the doctor. “How long has she been in labor?”

  “Don’t know for certain,” the doctor said. “She was already in labor when she was found.”

  Percy leaned over and put a hand on Emma’s forehead and looked her in the eyes. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Emma. We’re goin’ to take you home.”

  Emma nodded as tears leaked from her eyes. “I’d just about . . . given up—”

  Her words were cut off when another contraction hit, and she screamed and then started huffing and puffing.

  The doctor wiped her face with a damp rag. “Try not to push, Emma. We’re not ready yet, okay?”

  Emma nodded and groaned.

  The doctor handed the damp rag to Isaac and said, “Just try to keep her comfortable and I’ll be back in a moment.” He touched Percy on the leg and nodded toward the entrance.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Isaac asked.

  “Talk to her. Comfort her.”

  Percy could tell by the look on Isaac’s face that his initial shock was wearing off and anger was taking its place. “Tell her about—” Percy paused. He was going to suggest that Isaac talk about life on the ranch and her siblings, but he decided Isaac probably wasn’t capable of doing that without mentioning the tornado, and the last thing Emma needed now was to know the home she knew had been obliterated. “Talk to her about how much you missed her.”

  Percy and the doctor stood, and they stepped outside and walked out of earshot.

  After a formal introduction, Dr. Tom Miller asked, “How old is Emma?”

  “Thirteen when she was taken, but I guess she’s fourteen now. Is her age a problem?”

  “Maybe. Keep in mind, I’m a field surgeon and not a midwife or an obstetrician, however I did study human anatomy. Her body is not yet fully developed, which means her bone structure also hasn’t fully matured. Do you know what the pelvis is, Percy?”

  “I do.”

  Miller cupped his hands and touched his fingers together. “Think of this as Emma’s pelvis.” He began moving his hands apart. “As a woman ages, the pelvis widens and usually reaches full width during their midtwenties.”

  “So, what you’re sayin’ is she’s gonna have a hard time getting the baby out.”

  “Precisely,” Miller said.

  “Why’d you tell her not to push, then?”

  “Because her cervix is only partially dilated. Do you know what a cervix is?”

  “Can’t say I do.”

  “Think of it as the door to her womb. During childbirth that door opens ever so slowly with each contraction. Pushing before the door is open puts stress on the mother and child.”

  “That makes sense,” Percy said. “When do you think that door’ll be open?”

  “Impossible to predict, especially with this being her first pregnancy.” Miller was a short, older, distinguished-looking man with gray hair and his precise movements indicated his station as a skilled surgeon.

  “Thank you, Doctor. If you need anything from me just let me know.”

  “Thank you, Percy. When she gets closer to delivering, I’m going to need some hot water.”

  “I’ll get a fire started and round up a pot.”

  “Thank you.” Miller turned, walked back to the teepee, and slipped inside.

  Smoke from the many bonfires hung over the canyon in the still afternoon heat. With it looking like they were going to be there awhile, Percy walked over and unsaddled Mouse and slipped the bridle over her ears. As Mouse moseyed off, Percy turned and saw Isaac angrily tossing the flap open before stepping out of the teepee. He spotted Percy and marched over.

  Isaac jabbed his finger at the teepee and said, “We ain’t takin’ that thing home.”

  “Emma?” Percy asked, knowing full well what Isaac was referring to.

  “No, not Emma. That thing inside of her.”

  “That thing is called a child.”

  “A savage half-breed is what it is. And I’ll kill it if I have to. Them Injuns shouldn’ta done what they did.”

  “Agreed. But I don’t know how much say you’re g
oing to have in the matter.”

  “What the hell do you mean? I’m her pa, ain’t I?”

  Percy was already tired of arguing. “And soon to be a grandfather.”

  “Fuck you, Percy. We ain’t takin’ that thing with us. You hear me?”

  “I hear you. And if you talk a little louder, Emma will hear, too. Then what? If you aren’t careful, you’re going to drive her and the baby back to the Indians. Then you can explain to Abby why you came home again without Emma.”

  CHAPTER 66

  Isaac had stormed off after their argument and Percy hadn’t seen him since. Which was just fine as far as Percy was concerned. And if Isaac didn’t settle down or listen to reason, he could hit the trail today by himself. He didn’t know Emma’s thoughts on the matter, but whatever they were they would likely change the instant she held the baby for the first time. If the baby ever came, that is. As the last of the light began to fade, Percy hadn’t yet heard the cry of a newborn infant.

  Dr. Miller stuck his head out of the teepee and said, “Percy, will you go and find a lantern?”

  Percy stood. “I will, Doc. How is she?”

  “We’re getting there, but it’ll be a while yet.”

  “Do you need anything else?”

  “A canteen of water would be nice.”

  “Comin’ right up.”

  Percy walked over to the war wagon that Luis had driven down earlier after finding an easier trail and pulled out a couple of lanterns from a box under the bed. He topped both off with fuel, lit them, grabbed a full canteen from under the seat, and carried everything back to Miller. Taking a seat by the fire, Percy stirred the coals and nudged the large pot of water a little farther into the glowing embers. At this rate, he might have to refill the pot a couple of times as the water boiled off. But with the wagon here, he had plenty of water at hand and wasn’t particularly worried about that. He was, however, worried about Emma. He didn’t know the intricacies of childbirth, but he knew there were a bunch of ways for it to go wrong.