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

  Nor would wriggling away on the ground be likely to offer a better chance of success than setting of f at a run, Becky had reluctantly decided. She had often noticed how even slow movements could catch the corner of the eye and bring the full gaze in their direction. One of the reasons she had not yet been subjected to the kind of attention she felt sure was intended by her captors was they wanted her conscious and aware whilst having their way with her. To let it become obvious she was recovered might cause them to forget the disagreement at present occupying them.

  With the conclusion drawn and acted upon, Becky had also realized there was only one way in which she might hold off what was intended and, perhaps, be granted some more viable chance to make a bid for freedom. If she could convince the braves that she was still unconscious, she believed they would leave her alone until she ‘recovered’ and could increase their enjoyment by her frantic response to their attentions. It was only a slender chance, she had warned herself, but better than any other alternative she had been able to call to mind. For one thing, the respite would allow her to rest and replenish her energies ready to make the most of any opportunity to escape which might arise.

  Accepting she had no other choice, the girl had continued to lie where she had been put down!

  The ploy had worked!

  In the first place, as Becky had deduced, the Kiowa braves had been involved in such an acrimonious discussion it had continued to keep their attention from her!

  Furthermore, while the girl had not been aware of the fact on her recovery, some time had passed before the majority of the Indians learned of her presence!

  On arriving at the edge of the trail, Long Wolf had seen enough to let him assume he might achieve his ambition to gain control over the party. Telling his companions to wait in concealment with the girl they were carrying, he had crossed over. From his closer examination of the clearing, he concluded that his impression that the attack had been far from an unqualified success was correct. For one thing, with the exception of the captive who had fallen into the trio’s hands, not a single living prisoner had been taken. Furthermore, despite having the element of surprise in their favor, the main body had suffered several casualties and the loss of six lives. Among the dead braves was Plenty Coups, having succumbed to the bullet wound shortly after he had struck down the white man who inflicted it.

  However, basing the assertion upon the grounds of being the brother of the deceased leader, there had been another claimant for the position of his replacement!

  Hearing his rival commenting upon arriving from the other side of the trail that it seemed the medicine of his sibling had gone bad, Travels Far had set about attempting to refute the suggestion!

  Already, the would-be leader had pointed out, a search of the wagons had revealed some worthwhile loot. There were four more rifles and the number of double barreled shotguns was now four, but the three small firearms highly prized for being able to shoot several times without needing reloading which had been taken from the dead white men were all of their kind that were available. Lessening the impact he had sought to create by referring to the weapons having been acquired, he was compelled to concede there was not much black powder to be used with them, and percussion caps, molded bullets and the lead to make more were also in extremely short supply.

  Regardless of the improvement in the armament of the party, Travels Far was unable to deny that other things had turned out less successfully than had been anticipated!

  There was a quantity of clothing in the wagons, but the majority were garments for women. Unfortunately, little of this was attire that men could wear and the masculine clothes would not be suitable for the kind of rugged usage to which it would be subjected. Furthermore, the expected food and, much more eagerly sought, hard liquor had not been forthcoming. Although their killers had no means of knowing, the slaughtered white people having meant to re-supply on arrival in Fort Worth, had only a small amount of food left and never carried liquor. Sampling the contents of what he had assumed to be a bottle of the white man’s ‘firewater’, but was actually a liniment used by Percy Pulbright, the taste had proved so unpleasant the brave making the test had smashed all the others he had found without investigating what they contained. Of the five horses taken, four were too large and heavily built to be of much use for riding and the one which would have been had injured its leg while trying to bolt in fright during the commotion.

  Eager to use any means to discredit Plenty Coups, in addition to commenting adversely upon the various deficiencies in the loot, Long Wolf had drawn attention to another promise which had been made and clearly had failed to materialize. When learning how their intended victims’ party was comprised, their late leader had spoken eloquently about the small risks likely to be involved and the pleasures which would be forthcoming from the white women who fell into their hands. Indicating the wounded and dead, Long Wolf had remarked that it seemed the risks had proved much greater than was suggested. On being informed that the paleface females had proved more dangerous as fighters than their men, he had concluded their spirited resistance had caused the attackers to react with a violence which caused death instead of trying to capture them alive. Commenting that he had never heard white women were so fierce, he had pointed out wryly that as a result of their ferocity there was no enjoyment to be had unless it was to be obtained from their corpses.

  When Travels Far had tried to counter the assertions by reminding the others how Long Wolf and his companions had played no part in the fighting, he had replied that Plenty Coups had clearly thought there should be no need for their assistance. Therefore, doing as they were instructed, they had achieved one thing where the rest of the raiding party had failed. Calling for Chases Antelope and Steals Food to come over, he had been gratified by the response to the sight of their burden.

  Although Becky had not realized it, her condition on arrival had prevented Long Wolf from gaining immediate acclaim for her capture. What was more, even after she had regained consciousness, her behavior had prevented him from exploiting the result of the pursuit through the woodland. In spite of having been handled and fondled in a way which she had found revolting, she had had sufficient self control to continue to give the impression she was still comatose. Fortunately for her, circumstances had ensured such treatment was not protracted, or frequent.

  When the intended recipient of their lust had continued to show no signs of recovery, seeing an opportunity to belittle his rival’s success in providing her, Travels Far had played upon the animosity aroused as a result of the earlier omission to bring in a living female prisoner by asking how the other spoils of the raid should be divided. Taking a cue from him, indicating the bracelets worn by Steals Food and Chases Antelope and the necklace also made of Navajo silver and turquoise around Long Wolf’s neck, one of his cronies had reminded the others that the trio had not even offered to share the jewelry taken from the body of the Comanche woman. Then he had suggested ownership of what had just been collected should be restricted to those who had actually participated in the fighting.

  Naturally such an arrangement had not met with the approval of the trio who would be excluded. What was more, mindful that expressing concurrence could establish a precedent to their detriment on future expeditions, there were sufficient dissenters to the suggestion to ensure a more equitable arrangement was reached. As was only to be expected, none of those fortunate to have acquired the firearms would give them up. Nevertheless, they had agreed to allow Long Wolf, Chases Antelope and Steals Food to take a share of the other property.

  With the loot shared and the girl showing no indication of her true condition, a further bone of contention had arisen. This was on the subject of what the party should do next. Knowing to keep going would almost certainly entail a further clash of interests with Long Wolf and not relishing the prospect for all his bluster, Travels Far had indicated his belief that they had done enough and should return home with the spoils they had gathered. The warri
ors injured in the fighting had been in agreement and there were others, no longer having the inducement supplied by the white man’s firewater, who were of the same mind.

  However, mainly because the proposal to go home had originated from his rival, Long Wolf had declined. Pointing out they had little to show for their endeavors, he had stated his intention of seeking further coups and loot before returning. Although he had failed to win over the entire party, his two companions and three more of the braves, two of whom had acquired rifles, elected to accompany him. Aware that it would not be advisable to remain in the vicinity of the trail, Travels Far and his adherents had not even been inclined to suggest remaining until the white girl could be revived so they too could have their way with her. Nor, as Becky had still showed no sign of having recovered, had the other party taken the time to try and bring her back to consciousness. Instead, loading her across the back of a horse belonging to their victims and selected by the brave who had failed to obtain a firearm, they had separated from their companions.

  Never had Becky’s fortitude and courage been put to such as test as during the following hours!

  As the girl was to realize later, she had been fortunate in more ways than one!

  In the first place, the horse across which Becky was being carried had been bred for draught work. Its broad back and plodding gait offered less discomfort than she might have experienced if it had had a physical conformation suitable for conventional riding. Although warm, the weather was not excessively so. Therefore, the heat from the sun created neither a burning sensation upon her thinly covered back nor added greatly to her thirst. Having relieved herself in the woods before being captured, that need did not arise either. On the other hand, she had been able to obtain some water by scooping up a double handful unnoticed as the party were allowing the animals to drink while crossing a stream.

  At first, in the hope of finding some way of returning to the trail should she succeed in escaping, the girl had tried to remember the route being taken by her captors. She had soon found that the terrain they were traversing made this impossible from the position across the horse she was compelled to retain. With the men all around, she dare not raise or turn her head even briefly in case she should be seen and her deception exposed. Every movement she made brought one or another of the braves closing in to check on whether she was ‘recovering consciousness’ and she had been all too aware of what to expect if she allowed them to discover this had already happened.

  Despite having been passing through woodland as well grown as that through which she had fled earlier, Becky had not attempted to escape. As was the case in the clearing where the massacre of her friends had taken place, she had realized the inadvisability and futility of trying. The moment she moved, she would have been seen by her captors. By the time she was off the horse, they would be commencing their pursuit. Even if she had succeeded in eluding them, which she had felt sure was extremely unlikely, she would be left on foot and unarmed in terrain she suspected would prove far more dangerous than the Ozark Mountains where she had roamed in her childhood. However, neither that possibility, nor the fact that she was poorly attired for survival would have deterred her if she had considered her surroundings offered a chance of avoiding the braves.

  Before passing any suitable physical feature, such as a cliff over which the girl could throw herself and thereby gain a start upon her pursuers, the party had arrived in a clearing with a small stream running across its center and Long Wolf had told them to stop. While the others were preparing to take a rest, carrying out the instructions of their self-appointed leader, the young brave she had twice knocked down had removed her from the back of the horse with a most undesirable result.

  Realizing there was no longer any point in keeping up the pretense of being unconscious, Becky scrambled upright as quickly as she was able. She found she was too unsteady on her feet to think of flight. In fact, she was poorly conditioned to even try to fight off the warriors. Nevertheless, she silently swore she would do everything possible to resist. If she had an opportunity, she would get possession of a weapon and kill herself before they were able to have their way with her.

  Before the need for the girl to take any action arrived, there was an interruption!

  An ear-splitting and awesome yell rang out from the direction in which the party had reached the clearing!

  Swinging her gaze around, Becky stared at an Indian who burst into view from amongst the trees!

  ‘It’s a Tshaoh!’ Long Wolf yelled, forgetting his intentions towards the captive as he deduced from various signs to which Indian nation the new arrival belonged.

  Lacking the knowledge required to make such an identification, Becky stared at the new arrival with as much interest as her captors were showing!

  Looking to be in his mid-twenties, taller and more slender in build than the Kiowas, the approaching man was also more scantily attired. A red cloth band inscribed with some kind of blue, white and green symbols was fastened around his forehead. Below it, his black hair—parted down the center on top of his skull—hung in two shoulder long braids. He had on moccasins and almost knee high buckskin leggings. These and what looked to the girl like a length of blue cloth hanging to form flaps at the front and behind over the weapon belt around his waist completed his attire. While slightly Mongoloid in lines and set in an expression of grimly savage determination, his coppery- brown features were not bad looking even by European standards. In spite of his clearly aggressive demeanor, there was no ‘war paint’ on his face. However, in the center of his bare chest was the scarlet print of a hand.

  Everything about the newcomer, including the reaction of her captors to his appearance, suggested to Becky that he was not coming with peaceful intentions. Knowing the United States’ Cavalry employed Indian scouts to help deal with redskin marauders, she wondered whether this could account for his presence. He might have been sent by the commanding officer of a troop which arrived at the scene of the massacre to track down the men responsible. Having done so and discovered they were about to start molesting her, he was coming to the rescue instead of waiting for reinforcements.

  However, if she was correct in her suppositions, the girl considered her would-be rescuer was poorly equipped to carry out his intentions. The only arms he had were a big Bowie knife in a sheath on his weapon belt and the war lance he was carrying. Neither of them struck her as being adequate to deal with six enemies.

  Therefore, while Becky was grateful for the thought behind the intervention, she did not believe it would save her!

  Seven – Against Odds of Six To One

  Being better informed than their captive on such matters, none of the Kiowas discounted the newcomer on the grounds that he appeared to be unaccompanied!

  The sight of the lance in the hands of the rapidly approaching man gave warning that he could and almost certainly would prove a very dangerous proposition!

  Although he for one had needed the information given by Long Wolf to appreciate what his party were up against, even Steals Food was aware that any Tshaoh was a worthy foe and none of that race went armed in such a fashion unless possessed of great courage and a determination to succeed in battle or die trying. Therefore, in spite of the belief he had often stated regarding his competence as a warrior, he found it was disconcerting and alarming to realize he was the closest of them to one of that particularly efficient type of brave from a traditionally hostile nation and who could have good cause for taking vengeance upon him.

  However, in spite of suspecting what had brought the Tshaoh to the clearing, the youngest of the Kiowas was given no chance to take any kind of either offensive or defensive action. He had left his lance stuck point down in the ground when coming to remove the girl from the horse. Instead of trying to retrieve it and get on something closer to an equal footing with the approaching man, he grabbed at the tomahawk on the slings of his belt. Before he was able to bring it out, he inadvertently provided Becky Ingraham with verifi
cation for the theory she had formed about the disadvantage of trying to protect herself with the same weapon.

  Showing no sign of concern over being up against odds of six to one, the newcomer let out another of the savage yells and used his lance without breaking stride. Seven foot in length, with a sturdy shaft made from bois d’arc—regarded by members of every Indian nation as being one of the hardest, finest and most durable of timbers—to which an obviously sharp edged and pointed leaf shaped steel head was securely bound with sinew of rawhide thongs and glue at the forward end and a similarly fitted short metal spike on the other.

  Driven forward in a thrust from under the arm which told of deadly skill, the user having been taught that wielding it overhand and downwards was far less effective, the point impaled Steals Food’s stomach before he would have been in reaching distance with the tomahawk even if permitted to draw it. Just as deftly, having helped to gain admittance, the cutting edge of the head was manipulated to disembowel him while slashing out again through his flesh. Taking his right hand from the tomahawk, he clutched with both right and left at the mortal wound. Screaming in agony, he stumbled aside and collapsed face forward.

  Passing the stricken youngster and still employing the same devastating rapidity, the Tshaoh sent the head of his lance between the ribs and into the left side of the chest of a Kiowa who had elected to accompany Long Wolf instead of returning home. The moment that the weapon was snatched free, in a smoothly flowing continuation of the movement, its direction was altered and the metal shod butt was driven against the face of the second brave to make the decision to continue on the raid. With blood gushing from his cut mouth and shattered teeth, he let the knife he had drawn slip from his grasp and his dart towards the attacker was turned into an involuntary retreat.