Ambush At Mustang Canyon

by Mike Kearby

  Parks smirked at the colonel’s comments and eased Horse forward. “Superstition, Colonel,” he offered.

  Mackenzie wheeled in his saddle. “What’s that?” he asked.

  “The Indians are all superstitious, sir. If one band left, as Free said, then they would all leave out of here.”

  Mackenzie straightened in the saddle and sat silent for a time. The soldiers all recognized the familiar snapping of his stumps against one another. “Very well, Mr. Scott.” He bore his gaze into Parks, “Let’s proceed to the head of this canyon.”

  Hunting Horse and Mamadayte peered down into the canyon and watched as the taibo soldiers moved southwest. Hunting Horse smiled as the darkness prepared to cover the Palo Duro. “Maman-ti was right once more, Mamadayte. See, Mangomhente leaves us.”

  Mamadayte exhaled in relief and jumped to his pony’s back. “The council will want to know of this, Hunting Horse. Let’s go back and share the good news.”

  As nightfall blanketed the Fourth, Mackenzie halted the columns and shouted to the forward scouts, “Johnson! Job! Come back here.”

  Parks and Free, who rode behind the Tonkawa, stopped and glanced at one another.

  “What’s up?” Parks whispered.

  The Tonkawa split off from the forward scouts and rode back to the colonel.

  “I can’t say,” Parks shrugged.

  The colonel conferred with the Tonkawa and then called to Parks and Free, “Mr. Scott. Mr. Anderson. Please come back this way. There’s been a change of plans.”

  Free and Parks turned their horses and rode back to Mackenzie.

  “What’s going on, Colonel?” Free asked.

  “I think we’ve followed this trail as far as we need to.”

  Parks leaned forward in his saddle and studied Mackenzie’s face. “But this trail leads right out of the canyon, Sir.”

  “That’s the problem, Mr. Scott. This trail will not lead us to any hostiles. I think the camps are behind us.”

  “And you arrived at that conclusion, Colonel after marching for hours down the Tule?” Free asked.

  “No, Mr. Anderson. I arrived, as you say, at that conclusion before we ever began this march.”

  “Well then, I am confused, Colonel,” Free said as he leaned back in his saddle, “Why go so far out of the way if you know where the camps are located?”

  Mackenzie smiled. “You know that answer, Mr. Anderson. It was you who insisted we ride this way.”

  Free frowned. “What are you saying, Colonel?”

  Mackenzie’s pushed the smile away and gritted his teeth. “I’m saying we’ve been watched for the past few hours from above.”

  Free threw his gaze to the darkened cliffs.

  “They’re gone now, Mr. Anderson.” Mackenzie relaxed his jaw and leaned in close to Free. “They’ve ridden back to the camps to give the all clear. Mangomhente is leaving the canyon they will say. But, Mangomhente is not leaving.” Mackenzie looked back to Beaumont and McLaughen. “Captains! Move your companies right. We’re marching back into Mustang Canyon.”

  Chapter Forty-two

  Mustang Canyon, Texas, September 1874

  As dawn broke over the Palo Duro, the Tonkawa scout, Johnson, peered over the smooth worn limestone ledge above Mustang Canyon. “Many Indians, Kenzie,” the scout called out.

  Col. Mackenzie turned to Beaumont and grinned, “Captain, you will follow the scouts down with two companies of Second Battalion and I’ll lead the other two.”

  Beaumont rose, turned high in his saddle, and sang out, “Com-pa-knees! Disss-mount! A and E come with me. H and L follow the colonel.”

  Mackenzie turned to McLaughlen and waved his hand across the cap rock. “Captain, hold First Battalion on top for cover.”

  McLaughlen nodded. “Yes sir.”

  “And Captain,” Mackenzie motioned at Free and Parks. “Keep an eye out for these men. Don’t let them wander too far from First Battalion.”

  “Yes sir,” McLaughlen snapped.

  Mackenzie dismounted and walked to the cliff ledge. The new day had arrived clear and bright. He turned to his chief of scouts and with a great calm said, “Mr. Thompson, take your men down and open the fight.”

  Maman-ti gazed from his tipi at the bright, cool day outside. He rose and stretched his arms, grateful he had managed to retain his status as shaman. In the distance, a whoop echoed around the canyon followed by a lone gunshot. Crazy Comanche, Maman-ti thought. After weeks of fighting and running, today promised to be a day of calm.

  He stepped outside and rolled his shoulders from side to side. The cool night air had stiffened his muscles and made his neck ache.

  After several minutes of stretching, he heard his name being shouted from the edge of the village. Maman-ti stopped and listened as a pony came racing into view.

  “Owl Prophet!” The horse’s rider called out from a distance, “Mangomhente is coming!”

  Maman-ti’s heart raced and lightness settled in his chest as he made out the rider. “What is it, Hunting Horse?” he cried out.

  Hunting Horse raced straight for Maman-ti, jerking his reins at the last moment and causing his pony to stumble. “It’s Mangomhente!” Hunting Horse screamed. “He’s riding through the Comanche lodges with many soldiers!”

  Maman-ti stared beyond Hunting Horse and watched as the Kiowa people began to flee their tipis. He swallowed hard and slapped at Hunting Horse’s pony. “Get the warriors and run to the cliffs. From there we can fire down on Mangomhente!”

  Hunting Horse nodded and pulled his horse around.

  “Go!” Maman-ti yelled as he raced for his rifle.

  Free and Parks looked down at the chaos unfolding on the canyon floor. The Tonkawa and First Battalion had reached the camps in quick time. On the floor, they remounted and moved in four sweeping lines through the villages.

  “My God!” Free said, horrified.

  Comanche warriors scrambled for the cliffs while the women and children attempted to carry armloads of possessions with them.

  From his left, Free heard Capt. McLaughlen bark out, “First Battalion! Move out!”

  In a organized scramble, First Battalion began its single file descent to the canyon floor.

  “What do we do?” Free asked Parks.

  Parks looked back to the unfolding battle and then searched the rim. “I don’t know. Let’s move down the ledge and see if any of the women and children try to gain the top on this side.”

  Free nodded and picked his way through the line of men waiting to enter the trail.

  Both men rode a mile down the rim and watched as Mackenzie moved from lodge to lodge. “Look.” Free pointed to the forward line of First Battalion. “Where are they going?”

  A group of soldiers hurried away from the main skirmish line and raced straight down the canyon.

  Parks grabbed his field glasses and trained them on the departing soldiers. “That’s Beaumont. He’s riding to beat the devil that’s for sure.”

  Both men continued to trail the fight along the canyon ridge. They rode in step with the Fourth as the running battle moved southeast out of the camps.

  Two miles past the Kiowa village, a dark cloud raced head on for the skirmish lines of the Fourth. Parks raised the glasses again and swallowed hard. “Look at this.” He shoved the glasses toward Free.

  Free peered down into the canyon and inhaled deeply. “Sweet spirit!” he exclaimed, “There must be a thousand horses running in that herd!”

  Chapter Forty-three

  Mustang Canyon, Texas, September 1874

  By late afternoon, the fighting had stopped and the Indians had disappeared into the Palo Duro. Free and Parks rode through the sacked Comanche village amidst a blur of activity.

  Black smoke rose from a pyre of burning lodge poles. Grease from the Indian fire pits had soaked into the supports over many years of use and now the animal fat climbed to the canyon rim in a sickening fume. The soldiers from H Company worked like a line of ants, depositin
g pole after pole onto the burning heap.

  The fleeing Comanche had left in their wake a trail of flour, blankets, pottery, and buffalo robes.

  The Tonkawa and Seminole-Negro scouts rummaged through the flattened tipis looking for bows, lances, and knives. An occasional cheer went up as a scout found a decorated shield.

  Parks and Free observed Col. Mackenzie standing on Cita Creek sponging his neck with a dampened scarf. Both men dismounted and walked over to the victorious commander.

  “I guess you’re to be congratulated, Colonel.” Free said.

  Mackenzie wrung out his scarf and straightened his back. “I think things turned out well for the Fourth today, Mr. Anderson.”

  Parks looked back at the looting Tonkawa. “And the Tonkawa or so it appears.” He turned and smiled at the colonel.

  “Don’t be too hard on those men, Mr. Scott. The Comanche normally hunt them as prey. Give them their day.”

  Free nodded and said, “The horses you recovered, Colonel. Where did A Company take them?”

  “I ordered Capt. Beaumont to take them back to Tule Canyon, Mr. Anderson. Why?”

  “I need to ask a favor, Colonel. I know you won’t understand, but please hear me out.”

  “Go ahead,” Mackenzie replied.

  “I think my horse is in that herd, sir. It was taken by the Kiowa at Adobe Walls some months ago and I would ask the colonel’s permission to search the herd for my horse.”

  Mackenzie’s jaw tightened. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr. Anderson.”

  “May I ask why, Colonel?”

  “Because, Mr. Anderson, I gave Capt. Beaumont permission to cut out three hundred of the best animals and distribute them to his men.”

  Free swallowed hard. “What about the others, sir? Maybe Spirit’s in with that group. If you could just give me a little time to look.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Anderson,” Mackenzie said. He straightened his shirt and walked toward the middle of the Comanche village.

  “You’re sorry?” Free followed in disbelief of the colonel’s sincerity.

  “I’m sorry,” Mackenzie answered without looking back, “For I also ordered Capt. Beaumont to shoot the remaining horses.”

  Chapter Forty-four

  Anderson Homestead, Texas, November 1874

  Free sat at the kitchen table and took a drink of coffee. “So, you’re sure about this?” He poked at a piece of paper lying on the table.

  “I think it’s time for me to do something different, Free.”

  “Well long distance racing is definitely something different,” Free chuckled. “But I know you’ll fare well.”

  “We both need some time to do some of the things we’ve dreamed about,” Parks said.

  Clara turned from the stove with the coffee pot in her hand. “Who wants more?” she asked.

  Free held out his cup and grinned, “I do.” Clara poured his cup full and then motioned the pot to Parks.

  “No more, Clara, thank you.”

  From outside Dog began barking, and William Parks ran to the back door. He peered through the screen with his hands cupped over his eyes. “Daddy?” he asked, “Where are you?”

  Free laughed. “William Parks, I’m right here. What do you want?”

  “I want to tell you a man took your horse.”

  “What?” Free jumped to his feet and raced for the door.

  William Parks jumped back as Free stepped outside. “Over there, Daddy.” He pointed to the horsepens.

  Free ran to the corral with Parks and Clara on his heels. “What the—?” he looked back at Parks.

  Inside the corral, Spirit stood, tied to the corner post with a horse hair rope. Free swiveled his head in all directions trying to catch a glimpse of the man William Parks spoke of. “Who brought Spirit back, son?”

  “It was a man, Daddy. He said to tell you he came for his horse.”

  Free looked at William Parks in bewilderment and then turned to Clara.

  “Don’t look at me,” she shrugged.

  Free stepped on the lower rail of the pen and scanned the prairie once more.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Parks asked.

  Free shook his head from side to side in disbelief and hopped down from the rail near Spirit. He chuckled and rubbed the mustang’s nose. “Good boy,” he said.

  Free turned and lifted William Parks to his shoulder. He grabbed Clara’s hand and looked Parks straight in the eyes. “Snake people,” he said with a wide grin.

  Author’s Note

  Only three Indian fatalities were recorded during the September 28 battle in the Palo Duro Canyon. However, Mackenzie did succeed in crushing the soul of the native people camped in the canyon that morning by destroying the lodge poles and horses. Mackenzie, in a bold, strategic move left the Indians afoot and without shelter for the upcoming winter months. By November, the starving hostile bands were forced to re-think reservation life.

  Between October of 1874 and March of 1875, most of the Comanche, Cheyenne, and Kiowa had either surrendered or been captured.

  • Big Bow surrendered to authorities at Fort Sill in early February of 1875.

  • Maman-ti and Lone Wolf surrendered to authorities at Fort Sill in late February of 1875.

  • White Horse surrendered in April of 1875.

  Kicking Bird targeted Maman-ti and Lone Wolf as seditious and both received prison sentences along with five other Kiowa chiefs. It is said, the other sentenced chiefs asked Maman-ti to place a death wish on Kicking Bird for his betrayal. One week after the Kiowa chiefs were interred at Fort Marion in Florida, Kicking Bird died in Indian Territory. Maman-ti died soon after.

  By May of 1875, only one major band of Comanche remained at large, the Kwahada. On June 2, 1875, Quanah Parker led the remaining four hundred Kwahada into Fort Sill and surrendered themselves and fifteen hundred ponies ending the Red River War.

  After the Palo Duro Canyon battle, Ranald Mackenzie defeated the Cheyenne in the Black Hills War (1876) and subdued the Apache in Arizona (1881). In December of 1883, Mackenzie became a patient at the Bloomingdale Asylum for the Insane in New York. He died in 1889 at a cousin’s house. Ulysses S. Grant called Mackenzie, “The most promising young officer in the army.”

  All six men at the Battle of Buffalo Wallow were awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. Later, congress revoked the medals of Amos Chapman and Billy Dixon, as both men were civilian scouts. Billy Dixon refused to give back his medal.

  The use of the “Old City” refers to what archeologists now call the “Buried City.”

  The author chose to use the name, Mustang Canyon, as the site of the winter camps because historical records and archeological evidence remain at odds with one another. Some historians regard Canon Blanco, Canon Cita Blanca, or Canoncita as the site of the Comanche, Cheyenne, and Kiowa camps. However, present day archeological evidence cannot pinpoint the winter camps with a definitive location. Thus, the author chose to call the canyon by a fictional name.

  GLOSSARY

  KIOWA PHRASES AND NAMES:

  Aho—Thank you or Kill him

  Areca—Deer

  Aungaupi—Buffalo

  Aungaupi chi—Buffalo man

  Maman-ti—Sky Walker

  Mangomhente—Bad hand/Three fingers

  Pééy—Dead

  Teha-nego—Texans

  Ta-’ka’-i—Ears sticking out

  Tséeyñ—Horse

  CHEYENNE NAMES:

  Minimic—Eagle Head

  COMANCHE PHRASES AND NAMES:

  Esa-tai—Hind end of a coyote

  Haa—Yes

  Haits—Friend

  Kwahada—Antelope eaters

  Kee—No

  Numa—The People

  Puha—Power

  Quanah—Fragrance

  Tabananaka—Sound of the sun

  Taibo—List taker

  To’sa-woonit—Looks white

  Toyarohco—Cougar

  Unha hak
ai nuusuka?—How are you?

  Ura—Thank you

  Wobi pinna unu—Honey Bee

  SLANG:

  above snakes—Alive

  Barking at a knot—Wasting time

  Biscuit—Saddle horn

  Bone orchard—Cemetery

  Cut sign—Locate the trail

  Grulla—A gray-colored mustang

  SPANISH PHRASES AND WORDS:

  la Cueva de Comanchero—Cave of the Comanchero

  Es muy importante—It is very important.

  Es necesario responder a pregunta anterior—It is necessary to respond to a previous question.

  ¿Donde está el campamento de la komantcia?— Where is the Comanche camp?

  Señor—Mister

  Palo Duro—Hard wood

  Por favor—Please

  Perdón, no comprendo—Sorry, I don’t understand.

  Sin elección, amigo—I have no choice, friend.

  Valiente amigo—Some friend

  Vaya con dios—Go with God.

  Yo no comprendo—I don’t understand.

  Yo no se donde está—I don’t know where it is.

  Yo no se—I don’t know.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The only people with whom you should try to get even are those who have helped you.

  —John E. Southard

  Many thanks to:

  Mindy Reed, Fred Tarpley, Weldon L. Edwards, and Stephanie Barko.

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  What is the novel’s theme?

  How do you think the Southern Plains Indians regarded the buffalo hide hunters?

  What do you think is the cause of most wars?

  What do you think was the cause of the Indian wars in Texas?

  Eagle Wing, a Sioux chief, said, “We have been guilty of only one sin—we have had possessions that the white man coveted.” What possession did the white man covet?