The Texican Way

by Bernard Veale

  “Very well, let’s set it up. Where can I buy twenty horses?”

  Jim Forrester had been polishing glasses at the bar and listening intently.

  “Dan, Ah know a wrangler got fifty wild mustangs he been tryin’ to sell to the Major.”

  “It’s a bunch of the mangiest pintos and greys you ever saw.” Brad replied hotly. “Army don’t take ‘em. They want bays and chestnuts.”

  “What does he want for them?” Daniel asked.

  “I guess he would take ten dollars a head.”

  “I’ll offer him eight.”

  “I’ll take it!” called out a disreputable looking man in leather chaps from the far end of the bar.

  “Very well that’s done!” Daniel said moving over to shake hands on the deal. “Now, whisky. How much a bottle, Jim?”

  “Ah c’n do you-all a special deal on a case o’ twelve: ten dollars. Ain’t the best quality stuff so you-all better not try it yore ownself but them injuns like it.”

  “Hell, Jim.” Brad said. “Dan doesn’t need but two bottles, why sell him twelve?”

  “No, no.” Daniel protested. “I’ll take the dozen. Nothing mellows a bargaining session like a few stiff drinks.”

  “Iffen that whisky’s the stuff Jim us’ally sell to them injuns it sure gonna be stiff enough. Damn stuff is ha’f gunpowder an’ th’ other ha’f pure Habanero chili!” The Horse Wrangler commented.

  “In that case, Jim, I’ll take a bottle of your best sourmash for personal use.” Daniel commented.

  “I didn’t know you were a drinker, Dan. I’ve never seen you take anything other than a beer or maybe a glass of punch.” Brad commented.

  “I guess I may have to drink with some Indians, Brad. So I guess I’ve got to have some stuff that doesn’t lay me out cold.”

  Daniel settled up for the whisky and after having a look at the fifity horses he had bought, he went to the general store and bought some large size water canteens.

  Keeping two bottles of the fiery Indian whisky, he poured the rest into canteens on the grounds that bottles do not travel well on horseback. He had four extra canteens and these he filled with water, knowing that the surrounding country was extremely dry.

  On the following day Brad sent the Indian guide to report to Daniel. The man was filthy and reeking of alcohol. He spoke very guttural abbreviated English but used quite a number of Spanish words when his English failed him. This caused Daniel to break into Spanish and he found that the Indian was quite fluent in that tongue.

  “What is your name?” Daniel asked in Spanish.

  “Tomas, senor.”

  “Major Younger tells me that you looked for the band that took the white women but did not find them.”

  “They are a war band, senor. Long before the long knives come near to them, they see their dust and ride away.”

  “How can they hope to get horses for the women if they ride away?”

  “A war band knows that the Long Knives do not bring horses. They bring guns. They will allow a white man with a string of horses to approach them but they do not always allow the man to leave.”

  “Why would any man approach them with anything except guns in that case?”

  “Senor, I can approach them and haggle with them and then take the agreed number of horses to them in exchange for the women.”

  Daniel did not see this dirty alcoholic wretch conducting any sort of negotiation unless it would bring him more whisky.

  “I will conduct my own negotiation. For one thing I wish to make sure that the women are the right women and that they have not been harmed.”

  “The senor must know that he could be killed if the war leader does not respect him.”

  “Do you feel that the war chief will respect you more than he respects me?” Daniel asked pointedly.

  “No senor but I will give him some of my whisky and he will talk to me because he wants more.”

  “We will go together and we will all drink whisky together.”

  Tomas brightened up. The proposal sounded as if it could include some free drinking for Tomas.

  After some discussion, Daniel delivered one bottle of whisky to Tomas with the promise of another when the trade had been accomplished and they agreed on fifty cents a day with a bonus of five dollars when the women were safely home.

  Daniel gathered a single string of ten of the flashiest pintos in his herd and strung them together. He left Star in the corral with the other horses to give him a rest and mounted Japhet.

  Tomas led the way out to where he had last seen signs of the war band.

  The country was arid and stark. Daniel wondered how the Indians could live out there. Game was certainly not plentiful and water was non-existent until the rains came and then beware of flash-floods.

  As they rode, Tomas took surreptitious swigs from his whisky bottle whenever he thought that Daniel was not looking. As the day wore on his usefulness as a tracker diminished to the point that it was Daniel who picked up the first sign of a Comanche party’s passing.

  It was not a bent blade of grass, nor an unshod pony hoof print it was a scrap of lace from the bottom of a woman’s gown. It was the merest scrap that had been rolled in the dust by the dragged bush that had been used to cover the band’s trail.

  Tomas rode on, blind to everything, except his opportunity to take his next drink.

  Daniel kept watching for another scrap of lace and before dark he was rewarded by another piece that had been brushed to the side of the trail unnoticed by the man dragging the bush.

  They made camp in a sheltered draw. Tomas was not much interested in eating. He was off duty now so he could finish the bottle and so he did. He lay snoring by the fire while Daniel went up onto the ridge with his telescope and scanned the horizon. Far to the north he could see the faint sparkle of a campfire in the darkness.

  Daniel rose before dawn and prodded Tomas with his toe. Tomas did not stir so Daniel built up the fire and put a pot of coffee on it. He took out a hunk of fresh bread, purchased in the town before he left and chewed it with his almost-coffee. After he had completed his frugal breakfast, he cleaned up, dowsed the fire and shook Tomas once more. Tomas stirred but did not awaken. Daniel saddled the horses and gave each animal in the string a mouthful of water in his hat. He returned to the limp form of Tomas and heaved him up onto his horse so that he was lying across his old, hard and uncomfortable military saddle. Daniel fitted his limp foot into the stirrup and then set out towing the string of horses, including that of Tomas, behind him.

  Daniel had ridden some miles, at the trot, before Tomas stirred and fell off his horse.

  Daniel heard his loud cry as Tomas hit the ground and he circled back to where the Indian lay.

  “Are you awake now, Tomas?”

  “Senor, I think I am dying. My head hurts and my back aches.”

  “Your head hurts because you drank too much of that whisky. In fact you drank all of it and your back aches because you just fell on it.”

  “Where are we senor?”

  “We are traveling north from our camp last night.”

  “But senor, the band would have traveled west.”

  “Why would they have traveled west, Tomas?”

  “Their tipis are in the west, senor. They stay where the water is.”

  Daniel had seen another scrap of lace in the dust on his present route so he was not to be dissuaded.

  “Take a drink of water, Tomas. You will feel a little better.”

  “Senor, it would be better if you gave me the second bottle that you promised me. It would cure my sore head.” Tomas said still lying prone on the ground.

  “I did promise it to you Tomas but only after I had recovered the white women. If you want the second bottle you had better get moving.”r />
  Tomas rose clutching his aching head. “Senor we must travel west.” He said through clenched teeth.

  “Tomas you may travel in any direction you like but you only get paid while you are with me and you only get the second bottle if you are with me when I recover the women.”

  Tomas heaved himself into his rock-hard saddle groaning all the while only to dismount and stagger behind some nearby boulders where loud sounds of defecation could be heard. Apparently, Jim Forrester’s ‘indian whisky’ had other side-effects besides the mother-of-all-hangovers.

  Daniel released Tomas’s horse from the string and continued riding in the northerly direction. It was almost noon before a disgruntled Tomas caught up with him.

  “Senor, we should be traveling west.” Tomas complained but Daniel had spotted another scrap of lace at the Indian campsite. The campsite had hobbled horses and people milling around it on the previous night and, although the area had been swept in a general sort of way and the charred wood from the fire had been widely scattered, there was still the occasional sign of the previous night’s occupation.

  Daniel picked up the pace in the hope of shortening the distance to his quarry. Tomas lagged behind but Daniel ignored him and left him to catch up on his own.

  The sun had just reached its zenith when there was wild whooping and a group of five Indians dashed over the ridge ahead coming straight toward Daniel waving spears. Two arrows struck the ground just ahead of Daniel. He pulled out his Whitworth rifle and shot the leading Indian out of his saddle. The others swooped to the left and withdrew giving Daniel time to pull his string of horses into the shelter of a nearby gully.

  “What are they doing?” Daniel demanded to know of Tomas who had hurriedly followed him into the gully.

  “Senor, they want the horses.”

  “Well, I am bringing them to them. Why did they have to attack us?”

  “Taking horses by attack or stealth is much more manly than trading. They hope to get the horses before you have a chance to trade them for the women.”

  The four remaining Indians had held a discussion and now reached an agreement. Two rode to the left and two to the right before simultaneously whooping and riding into the attack again.

  Daniel was not mounted now. He rested his rifle on the lip of the gully and fired coolly while the Indians still thought themselves out of range. Another dropped from his horse but his companion did not notice it and maintained his wild charge giving Daniel plenty of time to reload and fire again with tragic results for the exuberant Comanche.

  In the meantime the two attackers on the right hand side had only just reached their position over on the right and were preparing to charge when Daniel took out the closest one. The other looked about him and discovered that he was now alone in this venture and concluded his odds were not favorable. He turned and rode rapidly back over the ridge where he had first appeared.

  “Senor, you shoot very well. I have never seen men killed over such a great distance.”

  “Now do you believe that we had to go north not west?” Daniel asked Tomas roughly.

  Tomas shook his still aching head. “Senor, they will go west eventually.”

  “The women I am seeking are ahead of us. We will still go north.”

  Daniel collected the Indian horses and added them to his string.

  They mounted the next rise and found group of people encamped a mile or two ahead.

  “They are not moving anymore, Tomas, why is that?”

  “They are ready to talk now senor. They have seen that they are dealing with a warrior and they will now hear what you have to offer them.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Daniel rode into the Indian camp with Tomas at his side. Tomas had not known that many of the canteens contained whisky not water and he was surprised to be offered a mouthful of this nectar before they entered the encampment.

  Daniel felt that a hair of the dog was necessary if Tomas was to be of any use in the negotiations.

  They dismounted and Daniel drew his loaded rifle from its scabbard before moving to the circle where the Indians were squatting.

  Tomas made a greeting in the Comanche language and indicated to Daniel that they should both sit down.

  Daniel sat and looked around him while Tomas continued to converse in the unintelligible tongue. He could not see any sign of the white women but he had seen six men while riding in from the ridge and there were only five sitting around the fire.

  Daniel became a little wearied of the long-winded conversation that was taking place between Tomas and the Indian spokesman.

  “Tomas,” Daniel interrupted. “What is happening? What is all this talk about?”

  “Senor, I am telling this man what a great warrior you are and how you can kill at greater distances than anyone else in the whole world.”

  “Why? Just ask him how much he wants for the women.”

  “Senor, that is not good manners among the Comanches. I must first give him a chance to tell me about how many coups he has counted and how many horses he has stolen.”

  “When do we get around to the important matters? All this boasting is just a waste of time.”

  “Senor, if we do not do this you might have to end up fighting all of them. First I must make them aware that they are dealing with a great warrior.”

  “Oh get on with it then. I was going to offer them all some whisky. I thought that it might make them more willing to make a deal.”

  “Whisky, senor? Oh whisky is very good for making deals. I will tell them that it is your custom to drink whisky instead of smoking a peace pipe. Then you must hand around the bottle for everyone one to drink.” Tomas started to translate that immediately. He did not want Daniel to change his mind.

  The war-band leader liked the idea immediately if Tomas’s translation was to be believed. Daniel rose and collected the canteen that he had already used to restore Tomas’s abilities.

  He pretended to take a sip from the canteen before handing it to Tomas. His lips burned from where the liquid had touched them. Tomas took a long swig before he passed the canteen on to the leader. The leader drank thirstily before handing it on to his companions. The Indians each took a sip and suddenly the sixth man appeared complaining loudly that no-one had called him for his share. None of them noticed that Daniel was no longer partaking but leaving them to pass the canteen around. The canteen contained slightly more than two bottles of whisky and it was not long before the Indians began to pass out. Tomas, being thoroughly accustomed to the contents of the canteen lasted longer than the others but even he succumbed after draining the canteen.

  Daniel looked at the sleeping Indians and stood up. He went back to where the sixth Indian had come from and found a bedraggled Teresita Rozas sitting under a blanket with her hands tied behind her and her legs bound together.

  Daniel lifted her up and cut away her bonds.

  “Senorita, where is your duenna?” He asked her in Spanish.

  “Is that all you ask me, Senor? Not: am I well? Have I been ravished? Beaten? Mistreated by savages? What can one expect of a man who lies so freely?”

  “I am sure that you will tell me all of those things when we are away from here but right now I need to know: where is your duenna?”

  “The band separated when we were being tracked by the army. Ten men went off with my aunt and the others took me with them.”

  “Can you ride well?”

  “Yes, I can ride well. I have been riding since I was a small child.”

  “Good! We are going to have to ride long and hard. Choose a horse from the string over there.”

  Daniel replaced the empty canteen by the fireplace with three canteens of whisky. He rounded up all the Indian horses and added them to his string. He dumped Tomas over his horse and tied him in place.
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  “Let us ride!” He said to Teresita as he led the string south-eastward.

  When he was far enough from the Indian camp he cast Tomas free.

  “His horse should get him home but he is slowing us down.” He told the girl.

  He began to ride in earnest and did not stop until he had put thirty miles behind them and the only reason he stopped then was because they had come to a spring and the horses needed to be watered.

  “Why do you bring all these horses with you?” Teresita asked him.

  “I cannot afford to leave any horses for the Indians to use to follow us. I am hoping that when they wake up they will find the rest of the whisky that I left for them and drink it. If that happens we have a good chance of getting away clean.”

  “But surely with all these horses we are leaving a wide trail for them to follow?”

  “They know where we are headed anyway. Our real problem is any other Indians that we might encounter on our way back to Comanche.”

  “How did you know that we had been taken by the Indians?”

  “Somebody in Comanche mentioned that two foreign ladies had been captured and I recognized your description. I served in the Union army with the Major at the fort. He provided me with the Indian guide that helped me find you.”

  “I was terrified by what they might do to me but my aunt was even worse. She screamed all the time until they gagged her. I think the leader sent the others off with her just to get her noise away from him. I don’t know what they did with her.”

  “But you have not been hurt or harmed?”

  “No, they were rough but as long as I did what they said, they did not harm me.”

  “Did what they said? Could you understand them?”

  “One of them could speak a little Spanish. He translated what the leader said.”

  “I saw the trail that you left of lace from your gown.” He remarked. “That was very brave of you.”

  “Yes, I was terrified. I thought at any moment they would notice what I was doing and then punish me. They had the youngest man in the group dragging a bush behind us to cover our trail. He was not very attentive. He just wanted to fight like a warrior and he seemed to think that dragging bushes was a waste of time.”