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The trip out of El Paso was due east. The Comanches had been raising all kinds of Hell in this general area. There were not many Whites around here, but there were a few. There was water, but you had to go deep for it, or you had to fight with the Comanches to get it. Either way, getting enough water was becoming a problem. The Comanches were not very inventive with their mischief, but, for that matter, neither were any of the other tribes.
The settlers had reached the stage where the Whites had enough armament to fight off most Indian attacks, so the Comanches were getting a little more choosy about when, where, and whom they attacked. Mostly, they were looking for isolated cabins, and the majority of the attackers were 10 at most of the younger braves trying to get a reputation for bravery in battle. They usually broke off a battle if they could not win quickly.
Two days out of El Paso, we spotted a small Comanche camp. There were no women or children, so we knew that this was a war party getting ready to kill as many Whites as they could find. There were 11 men in the camp, and the dogs were anxious to attack. I could read the disgust in their faces when I held them back, but I wanted to wait until dark. Our last experience showed that the dogs were most effective then. We pulled back out of sight and set up our own cold camp.
The dogs adopted their "it's about time" expression when I finally sent them in to see what kind of harm they could do. Three dogs and 11 men just did not come out even, and I knew that one of the dogs was going to feel cheated, but what could I do?
The dogs went racing in, and Swen went after the only guard. Otto and Olaf jumped the sleeping Indians. The chaos that overtook the camp was over in only a few minutes, and all of the Indians were soon dead. The only injury was to Swen: he had been cut with a knife, but the wound was more cosmetic than anything else.
Josh was astonished at how quickly the dogs had killed all of the Indians, but it was about what I had expected since I had seen them work more than once. In any case, we now had a gracious supply of pemmican and jerky, and more horses than we knew what to do with. We simply released the horses to wander home or to run wild, as the mood struck them. The dead Indians were left to the scavengers.
We appeared to be able to overpower as many as 20 Indians if we caught them by surprise when they were sleeping, but I was not sure what we could do with a larger number. Also, it was difficult to estimate our chances against even a dozen Indians if we encountered them during the day when they were alert. Arrows could be effective against the dogs; it was up to Josh and me to make sure that didn't happen.
Two days later, we came upon a war party of Kiowas attacking a large house and barn. Both structures were made of adobe and had flat roofs. Three defenders were on the roof of the house and two were on the roof of the barn. The coping of both roofs had crenelations, so the people had some protection from the arrows being fired at them. Unfortunately, it appeared that the Whites only had muzzle loaders, so the fight was a bit more even than it otherwise might have been. We could see four Indians lying on the ground, not moving, so the rifle fire was doing some good.
There appeared to be about 30 braves still alive. Added to that were two war chiefs who were staying back and keeping an eye on the action. Josh and I discussed our options; we already had the dogs' vote. We decided to turn the dogs loose on the main party of Indians while I went after the war chiefs with my Sharps. Josh had nothing to do at the moment but watch and try to keep the dogs under control until I'd had my chance with my Sharps.
I found a good place for my shooting position and laid out four cartridges on a swatch of cloth. The range was long enough to require the prone position, so I assumed that and loaded in my first cartridge. There was practically no wind, so I might have to move if I needed more than two shots because of powder smoke blocking my view.
I aimed at the first war chief and went through my routine. I fired and reloaded as quickly as possible. I wanted to get in my second shot before the second war chief realized what was going on. Well, I didn't manage that, so I scored on my first shot, but I came up with a clean miss upon my second shot. The first war chief fell to the ground, and I was pretty sure that he was dead from the way he fell. The second war chief must have seen sniper shooting before because he did not hesitate to ride as fast as he could away from me.
Okay, I picked up the empty brass for reloading and the unused cartridges. I ordered the dogs to attack, and Josh and I drew our rifles and rode toward the besieged house and barn. We only wanted to get within repeating rifle range before we started shooting, but the dogs had to close with the Indians before they could do their thing. I hoped that the people under attack would realize that the dogs were on their side and not try to shoot them.
Josh and I stopped at about 150 yards away from the house and barn and dropped to the ground behind some rocks. We began shooting at the Indians' horses as it was nearly impossible to hit a man at that range moving that fast. A horse made a large target that was much easier to hit, and a hit on the horse practically anywhere while it moved at that speed was going to force it to stumble and/or fall, and that was enough to unseat the rider. Usually, the rider broke one or more bones when being dumped like that, so he was out of the fight, even if he had a rifle.
Anyway, we proceeded to shoot as fast as we could and aim our shots. Horses began to fall even before the dogs got there, and the slaughter really began when the dogs hit the scene. Josh and I stopped shooting at that point for fear of hitting the dogs. We mounted and rode our horses at a slow walk toward the melee. By the time we got there, the last few Indians were leaving as fast as they could, and I had to call the dogs back from chasing them. Not many of the Kiowas escaped, and we counted 23 dead Indians, including the one war chief.
We rode up to the house and were greeted with cries of welcome. Josh and I waited while the people on the roofs came down through the house and barn. There was a glorious few minutes of handshakes and back slapping by the males and hugs by the females. It turned out that Tom and Mary Jefferson and their daughter Helen had been on the roof of the house and their two sons, Jack and John, and occupied the barn.
We were invited inside for coffee, but I commanded the dogs to be on watch outside. That did no upset them in the least because they were just as happy to lie in the shade and rest from all of their activity. Of course, all of us, including the Jeffersons, made a big to-do over the dogs so that they would know that their efforts were appreciated.
We humans went inside, and the coffee was served in a very short time. We discussed the raid, and I explained that we were hunting troublemaking Indians, so that was why we happened to be in the vicinity. They wanted to know the story of my war-dogs, and I gave them the story of how I had acquired them. Tom Jefferson speculated that maybe he should get some war-dogs of his own if the Indians were going to stay like this. I told him that I figured that the Indians would burn themselves out before winter, so I doubted that war-dogs were a good investment for him. On the other had, I did tout the advantage of repeating rifles. I could tell that I had made a strong impression on Jack and John with my talk of repeating rifles, so they might well go that route.
We were invited to stay overnight, and I noticed that Josh and Helen spent a lot of time together. Young men of marriageable age were harder to find than women right then, so I was not surprised that Mary, and especially Helen, were looking Josh over as a prospect. Therefore, I was not surprised when Josh said that he wanted to stay with the Jeffersons for a while, provided that I did not mind him abandoning me.
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