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I topped a little rise in the road and saw the trouble. Five Comanches were circling a wagon that had its canvas cover in place. I couldn't see what was going on, but I heard occasional gunshots coming from under the canvas cover. The shots sounded like they were coming from a Henry rifle. I did see one dead Comanche lying beside the road, so them shots from the wagon were not totally in vain.
It looked like one of the Comanches had become bored with shooting arrows at the canvas wagon cover and had decided to do something about it. He had a war club in his hand and was riding his horse directly at the driver's seat on the wagon. There was no doubt that he was planning to jump into the wagon and to deal personally with whoever was shooting that rifle.
There was no time to waste! I spurred my horse to his top speed in a run toward the wagon. I had time to get close enough and to stop my horse before the Indian was fully inside the wagon. I drew a revolver and used both hands to steady it as I fired a shot at that Indian. I had been aiming for his chest, but I missed that; however, I was lucky enough to put a bullet into his left shoulder. That was the arm he was using to steady himself as he climbed into the wagon, and the shock of the bullet shattering his shoulder was enough to break his grip and make him fall to the ground.
The remaining four Indians turned their attention to me and charged. I didn't think much of my chances against four enemies at one time; I turned my horse around and spurred him back the way I had come. I was spotted running like hell by the two women, and they sped up the wagon so that we quickly met. All I had time for was to yell, "COMANCHES!"
Mary halted the wagon immediately and drew her Navy Colt. Meanwhile, Ma snatched up her Henry and levered a cartridge into the chamber. I turned, and the three of us faced the charging Comanches. Forgetting that Mary only had a light weapon, I yelled at them to shoot at the horses. Both of them did, and I followed suit with my revolver.
Mary put three bullets into the horse she was shooting at before it fell to the ground. I was very proud of her because that was a difficult thing to do with such a small caliber gun. The Indian had managed to jump off his horse before it fell, so he ran toward Mary brandishing his lance. She put her remaining two bullets into his chest. That staggered him, but he did not fall. Fortunately, I was on Mary's side of the wagon and was able to put a bullet into the Comanche who was trying to kill her. My .44 caliber pistol did all of the damage it had to do in getting rid of that danger.
Meanwhile, Ma was firing as fast that she could at the three remaining horses. She put down two of them and their riders took fatal tumbles, but the third man seemed to be leading a charmed life. He got awful damned close to Ma before I was able to put a bullet into him. We held our place while I checked to make sure that all of the Comanches were dead; they were by the time I finished.
None of the Indians or their horses were blocking the road, so we just left them where they were. We hurried to the other wagon to see if there was anything we could do to help whoever might be inside.
Ma and Mary stayed in their wagon while I checked the covered wagon. I didn't want to be shot so I called out that I was a friend and was headed for the wagon. A woman's voice answered, inviting me into the wagon, and I climbed in. In doing so, I had to crawl past the corpse of a man in his 20s. Inside the wagon, I found a woman who looked to me to be about 20 years old and a very young infant. I suppose it was fated to happen, but the baby started to cry as soon as I showed up.
The woman picked up the baby, and I saw then that it was a boy who had just pissed on himself. The woman proceeded to clean him up while she talked to me. She said that she and her husband had been attacked just minutes before I showed up that first time. He had been killed by an arrow into his neck. I had not noticed it when I had climbed past him, but I looked back and could see it now.
I called to Ma and Mary to join us because it looked to me like that woman was going to need help very damned soon. I figured it wouldn't be much more than 5 minutes before she collapsed from shock at the death of her husband. Out here in West Texas, a widow with such a young baby was in a shit pot full of trouble! If she could not return to her parents or her in-laws, she was probably destined to take up prostitution as soon as her ready cash ran out. I figured that another woman to cry on was just what she needed at this time.
I helped Ma and Mary to climb into the wagon, and then I went to stand outside. This was both to stand guard and to allow the women to talk without an obvious man being present. I figured that they all would be more comfortable that way. I wasn't going to have any trouble hearing what they said, so I was not as detached from the current situation as it might seem.
They talked for about an hour, and the upshot was that the woman had no one to fall back on. They had a small homestead a few miles north of here, but a recent Comanche raid had made the place unlivable. They were headed for Harleysville in hope of getting help, and hoping that the husband could find a job in the town with so many young men now gone.
That, of course, was shot to hell now that the husband was dead. Ma was as softhearted as any woman could possibly be, so she invited Charlotte and her son to stay with us until Charlotte could get organized. Charlotte was no fool and accepted immediately. Ma explained that we still had to go into Harleysville to pick up necessary supplies. By the nature of the local danger, Charlotte would have to go with us into town, but she should not worry about being left there when we were ready to leave.
Charlotte was a right nice looking woman and real pleasant to look at. She was about the same size as Ma, 5'-2" tall, and look like she weighed about 100 pounds. Mary was 5'-1" tall, and weighed about 90 pounds. I didn't have a whole lot of experience to judge from, but I found that all three of the women looked great to me.
Charlotte's son was three months old and named Jimmy. Charlotte said that he was a good kid and spent most of his time sleeping. I was glad to hear that if he was going to live with me, because I wasn't one to be thrilled by a crying baby.
Ma said that we could afford to give Charlotte's husband a decent burial in Harleysville, so Mary and I moved him to the rear of the wagon and covered him with a blanket. Everything would be okay if we could get him to the undertaker before dark.
Ma drove Charlotte's wagon and Mary drove our wagon the rest of the way into town. I rode my horse and kept a sharp lookout for Comanches. It was pushing noon when we got into town, and the first place we headed was to the undertaker. It only took about 20 minutes to arrange for the funeral and for Ma to pay the fee, so we were now free to eat dinner.
We went to the hotel restaurant and had the usual fare of beef and beans with coffee for dinner. After that, the three women sat in Charlotte's wagon under the cover of the canvas while Charlotte nursed her son. Meanwhile, I made a beeline for the gunsmith, hoping that he would have at least one Henry rifle for sale.
I barely got in the door before I found out that he was packing up to move. He was too old for the Army, at least he thought so, and he was getting out of Harleysville before the Comanches made a serious raid on the place. It turned out that he was in the mood for bargaining and wanted to sell everything he could; otherwise, he was probably going to have to abandon it.
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