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

  Catching hold of the stave with her hands between his, Becky appeared to be trying to fend off the Kiowa by pushing against it. For a moment, it appeared they were engaged upon nothing more than a trial of strength. Then, waiting until she felt him increasing his attempt to counter her actions, she showed her actual intention. To the brave, becoming aware that she was going backwards and towards the ground, it appeared he was succeeding. Unfortunately for him, the withdrawal was not entirely caused by his extra weight and greater strength.

  Knowing she could not oppose her attacker by brute force and muscle power alone, the girl had had no intention to do other than give the impression of trying. When satisfied she had achieved the objective she was seeking, she started to slip backwards without releasing her hold on the lance. Bringing up her feet as her weight compelled him to tilt forward, she got them against his stomach. As her shoulders struck the ground and she felt the pressure of his body against her soles, she straightened her bent legs. Helped by the shove he was exerting and a pull forward on the lance with her hands, she catapulted her assailant over her. Turning a half somersault, he alighted on his back with a thud which jolted all the air from his lungs.

  While delighted by the third success in a row she had achieved, Becky was too intelligent to devote even a moment in well-deserved self congratulation. Aware that none of her assailants were likely to have been rendered hors de combat, she wasted no time in bounding to her feet. A glance informed her that, although neither of his companions were doing so as yet, the youngest brave was already able to resume hostilities. Emerging from the bush into which he had been knocked, if the expression on his face was any guide, he was furious over having been subjected to such treatment at the hands of a woman. What was more, the way he was snatching the tomahawk from the slings on his weapon belt indicated the delivery of his next assault would not be restricted to bare hands.

  In spite of having experienced little difficulty in dealing with the young warrior on his previous attempt to attack her, the girl knew the next would be a vastly different proposition. For one thing, she would no longer have the element of surprise. Furthermore, he would be coming at her holding a weapon which he was certain to have been taught to use with some skill. If her assailant had been alone, aided by her greatly improved knowledge of fighting with bare hands—even though dealing with an armed assailant had not formed part of her training—given sufficient room to maneuver and the goading of desperation, she might be able to cope and, perhaps, even render him hors de combat. However, the time required to do so would allow his companions to return to the fray. With those thoughts in mind, she decided the only safe course was for her to run away.

  The problem was, in which direction to go?

  Continuing to think fast and clearly, aware what little hope she had of survival depended upon it, the girl realized that making for the wagons was not the solution. In spite of the better surface for running it would offer, even appearing on to the trail would worsen rather than improve her desperate situation. Furthermore, judging by what she could see as she looked across, there was no help to be had in that direction. What few of her companions were still alive had far too much demanding their attention to be able to give her any assistance. On the other hand, to go towards them would bring her into view of the Indians attacking the camp and was likely to add to her pursuers.

  That left the woods on either side!

  Turning to her left, unfastening and throwing off the skirt as a possible impediment to her future movements, Becky darted through the undergrowth as fast as her legs could carry her. While doing so, she silently thanked providence for the strenuous kind of occupation she had been engaged upon since leaving St. Joseph, Missouri, which ensured she was now in an even better physical condition than on the last occasion when she had faced a threat to her life. She was aware that this alone offered her only a slender hope of salvation.

  Without needing to look back, the girl could hear enough to warn her that the young brave was following in hot pursuit. Her awareness of what to expect if she was caught gave her an inducement to keep going such as she had never known before. However, although the circumstances were vastly different and the stakes were much higher than the acclaim of the other players if she was successful in eluding them, it was like a game at which she had excelled during her tomboy childhood. With relief, she discovered that she still retained much of the skill she had acquired and this had never stood her in better stead. The nature of the terrain did not allow her to run in a straight line. Instead, she had to weave through gaps in the undergrowth following tracks made by animals and remain constantly ready to duck beneath low hanging branches of the trees.

  Brushing inadvertently against the foliage while swerving around a bush, Becky felt it clutch at the bodice of her blouse beneath her left arm. Even as a momentary alarm close to panic gripped her, to the accompaniment of a ripping sound, her momentum split and snatched the flimsy material free from the thorny clutches before it could slow her down. For all that, she knew the tremendous strain of having to keep running at such a pace was beginning to tell upon her. However, if the savage exclamations she could hear but not understand, and the other sounds which came to her ears were any indication, her pursuer was suffering from the same disadvantages and meeting with even less success in avoiding them.

  Reaching an area of open ground with a large cottonwood tree roughly in the center, the girl concluded that crossing it would add to her danger even though realizing she had no other choice. Although she knew little about Indians, she had heard that a tomahawk could be thrown as well as used to deliver a chopping attack. Glancing back, despite seeing nothing to suggest the warrior meant to act in such a fashion, she was startled to discover how he had succeeded in closing the gap between them. However, despite feeling sure they were following, she also drew consolation from discovering neither of the other braves were as near.

  Running into the open, Becky could hear the footsteps to her rear drawing ever closer. Every instinct she possessed warned she could not stay ahead until reaching the other side. Accepting the inevitable, on arriving at the big tree, she spun around with her back to the trunk. While it was only a small consolation under the circumstances, a glance told her there was still only one of her attackers to be seen. Against that, the speed with which he was moving proved she had been correct in her assumption that she could not hope to go much further before he caught up. Therefore, pressing herself against the hard bark of the trunk, she tensed. Sucking in gasping breaths and watching the way in which he was rushing at her, she tried to decide how she might turn his obvious anger and impetuous behavior to her advantage.

  Enraged at having suffered the humiliation of being felled by the girl in front of his companions and by the pain suffered during the dash through the bushes, the young brave was no longer giving any thought to the sexual pleasures earlier envisaged. Nor, incensed by a burning sensation where a branch had whipped the cheek already bearing the still unhealed scratches from the fingernails of the Comanche woman, was his desire for revenge changed by the sensually attractive sight she presented.

  This was in some part enhanced rather than detracted from by her physical condition. Discarding the wraparound skirt had brought into view her shapely buttocks, hips and legs now covered in perspiration which caused the black tights to cling like a second skin. Similarly soaked and torn open at the front by the contact with the bush, the blouse no longer covered her well-developed bosom as it rose and fell in accompaniment to the efforts of her lungs to replenish themselves with air.

  Coming into reaching distance and giving a bellow of, ‘Die, white bitch!’, Steals Food swung the tomahawk in a vicious horizontal arc intended to inflict a suitable revenge!

  However, at the last moment, the proposed victim took most competent evasive actions!

  Timing the moves perfectly, Becky thrust herself aside just before the weapon reached its target!

  Unable to halt the blow, Steals Fo
od received a jolt which threatened to numb his arm as the blade buried deep into the wood. A moment later, before he could try to pull it free, he was again struck by a punch to the side of his jaw delivered with the precision learned to counter similar attacks by untrained opponents. This time, coming with all the power of the muscular buxom body of the girl, the force not only sent him sprawling sideways, caught even harder than previously, he was unconscious before he landed on the ground.

  Opening and shaking her fist in an attempt to relieve the throbbing caused by the impact of the blow she had struck, Becky saw the other two braves racing into the open. Even as she thought of jerking the tomahawk from the tree and making a stand, the futility of such behavior struck home. Not only was her right hand still partially numb and she had no desire to undertake so desperate a venture handicapped by using the left, she was completely unfamiliar with such a weapon. The latter stricture did not apply to her assailants and they would know how to defend themselves against it. Furthermore, while the other was bare handed, the one in the lead was still carrying his lance and this gave him a much longer reach than she would have with the tomahawk.

  Concluding that her only slender hope was in a renewal of the flight, leaving the weapon embedded in the wood, the girl spun and darted towards the other side of the open ground!

  Seeing their quarry setting off again, the braves let out angry exclamations. Sharing a trait of Texas cowhands and Mexican vaqueros, along with most other so-called ‘horse Indians’, they had little liking for such strenuous activity when on foot. Already they were breathing hard and were far from enamored of continuing the chase in such an energy draining and exhausting fashion. However, only one of them was in a position to do anything about it. Knowing how fleet of foot Steals Food could be, Long Wolf had expected only a short chase. Therefore, wanting to enjoy the anticipated pleasures when the capture was made, he had not waited to collect his bow and arrows before setting off in pursuit.

  Being just as eager for what he considered would be shortly forthcoming, Chases Antelope had nevertheless taken up the chase with the lance still in his hands. What was more, while not at his best as a result of the stomach throw he had suffered, he had gained his name by his competence as a runner. Therefore, although carrying the weapon had prevented him from catching up with Steals Food, he was able to leave Long Wolf behind. Nevertheless, seeing the girl resuming her flight, he was disinclined to let her keep going. The commotion from the other side of the trail was dying away and he did not want too much of a delay before going there to claim a share in the loot from the wagons.

  Releasing the lance with his left hand and drawing back his right arm, the brave skidded to a halt. However, despite being too far away to be able to make a thrust, he did not throw it after the fashion of a spear. Experience had taught him this was not the best method of employ. Instead, he sent it through the air in a way which he had learned increased the chances of making a hit on a moving target. Twirling around and around in its flight, it was not dependent upon the pointed head to make contact and bring down the intended objective. Instead, flying parallel to the ground, the ten foot long wooden shaft covered a much greater span than the point and reduced the chances of missing.

  Struck behind the knees just as she reached the edge of the clearing, Becky might have counted herself grateful that the missile was almost at the end of its flight. If it had arrived at full speed and power, she could easily have suffered a broken leg. Even with its momentum diminished, it still arrived with sufficient force to achieve its purpose. Feeling herself struck and tripped up, she let out a cry of mingled pain and alarm. With her equilibrium destroyed, arms flailing wildly she found she was plunging helplessly towards a tree. Despite all her efforts to avoid it, her head struck the side of the trunk. The blow was only glancing, but the impact was hard enough to knock her unconscious.

  Flopping limply face down, the girl was not aware of the two Kiowas hurrying towards her!

  Six – It’s a Tshaoh

  Although she had managed to avoid letting her captors realize she was conscious for longer than she had dared to hope would be possible, at last Becky Ingraham was compelled to inadvertently give a sign that she was at least recovering her faculties. Given a heave on her feet by the young brave she had twice knocked down and toppled from the bare back of the horse, across which she had remained flaccidly draped whilst on the move, she had contrived to stay just as limp as she was falling to the ground. Unfortunately, she had landed on what felt like a small roundish rock. Before she could prevent herself from doing either, she gave a gasp of pain and her body jerked convulsively. The sound she inadvertently emitted was not loud, but proved sufficiently so to be heard by all the men in the vicinity.

  Having turned to walk away, believing the captive was still unconscious, Steals Food glanced over his shoulder. Calling to tell the rest of the braves that she would soon be ready for their pleasure, he swung around in eager anticipation of what he had been waiting for ever since he had recovered from the second blow he had received to find she had been captured. Looking past him as he started to return, guessing what he had said, Becky concluded that the fate she had succeeded in avoiding so far was about to befall her. Attracted by her groan, the other five Indians forgot what they were about to do and, putting down their assorted weapons, duplicated his action by beginning to move her way.

  On regaining consciousness several hours earlier, the girl had had a few seconds of confusion. Then, fortunately before she had done anything to betray her return to sentience, the recollection of what had happened had flooded through her mind. The memory was frightening and had made her feel as if she was touched by an icy cold hand, but she had been able to hold her fear in check. Her every instinct had warned this was no time to panic or act before she had ascertained the exact nature of the situation. Although the earlier mixture of yells, screams and shots had ended, indicating that the attack upon the International Troupe of Lady Wrestlers was over, the sounds of conflict had been replaced by guttural masculine voices speaking a language she could not understand. Looking up cautiously as her vision cleared, she had discovered she had been carried to the clearing in which her party had set up camp the previous night.

  Instead of continuing the examination of her surroundings, while she had sufficient presence of mind to prevent herself from groaning, Becky had started to reach up instinctively with a hand to feel at and give some solace to her throbbing head. Before she could do so, the realization of how such an act could also have undesirable repercussions had caused her to refrain. Although she felt sure she had been taken captive by the three men who pursued her through the woodland, the movement had established that she was not bound or otherwise restrained in any way. However, with her faculties having returned, she had concluded she would be advised to ascertain the full ramifications of her predicament before attempting to capitalize upon any advantages she might have.

  Raising her head a little so as to obtain a better view of her surroundings, but otherwise remaining motionless, the girl had quickly satisfied herself that there was little relief to be gained from her hands and feet being free. Until that point, she had been hoping—futilely, she had told herself—that being at liberty suggested rescuers had come upon the scene. One glance was all she had needed to ascertain that this was not the case. The only other living beings in sight were Indians and she recognized the three who had chased her in the woodland.

  Subsiding to lie motionless at the conclusion of her undetected scrutiny, the girl had been both distressed and relieved by having discovered neither Horace ‘Pug’ Brackley nor any of the other members of the Troupe had survived the onslaught. Although her first inclination had been to scream her hatred at the cause of her companions’ deaths, she had also envisaged, just in time to prevent it, how she would be affected if she yielded to the impulse. To do so could not bring them back to life. It would only draw attention to her and, at that moment, she was being totally ignored. Nauseated
as she was at the sight of how all the bodies—male and female—had been mutilated, the sight had at first stopped her from realizing the implications of being alive in the hands of the men responsible for the slaughter.

  When the thought of her own predicament had occurred, Becky had made an effort and kept her disturbed emotions under control. Even before coming to Texas, she had read of the horrible fate awaiting white women who were taken prisoners by marauding Indians. That she had been kept alive indicated her captors had such treatment in mind for her. Wondering why she had not already been subjected to it, she had deduced being unconscious had spared her. The conclusion had shown her how she might hold off the commencement of the molestation for long enough to be offered either an opportunity to escape, or try to ensure she was dead before they could start.

  Continuing to keep the braves under overt observation, making sure she remained still and closed her eyes as soon as any of them showed signs of looking her way, Becky had quickly concluded the cause of the controversy was helping to prevent them forcing their malevolent attentions upon her. In addition to the little interest being taken in her, the tones and gestures being employed offered sufficient indications to support the supposition.

  Convinced that the braves were all absorbed in the acrimonious debate, the girl had thought their preoccupation with one another might offer her an opportunity of making an attempt to escape. However, once again, her common sense had come to the fore and pointed out the folly of the idea. There were, she had quickly realized, serious objections to even trying to take any kind of action along those lines. For one thing, while she had regained her wits sufficiently to be able to think clearly, she was still feeling the effects of the collision with the tree and had not yet recovered from the strains imposed by her previous flight. Should she rise and run, one or more of the warriors were certain to see her and she was in no condition to endure the rigors of another pursuit.