All God's Children by Aaron Gwyn

Author:Aaron Gwyn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Europa Editions
Published: 2020-09-06T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

We were camped one starless night just north of Austin, when our scout, Isaac Casner, came trotting in, circled the main fire and began calling for help. Uncle Isaac was a plump man who tipped the beam at two hundred pounds and was not easily spooked. Up to just that moment, I’d hadn’t seen him spook at all.

I’d been sitting on my bedroll, visiting with Juan as had become my custom of an evening. I stood up and cleared my throat.

“Over here, Isaac. What’s the trouble?”

He walked his horse over and when he got close I saw an arrow protruding from the animal’s flank.

“Captain,” he said, “I think we’re fixing to get ambushed.”

Hearing this intelligence, I ordered the fires doused and the horses brought in. The troopers began to rouse and see to their weapons and soon we were gathered in an enormous ring, ready to fight or flee, whatever was required.

“What happened?” I asked Isaac.

Isaac said, “I was out on yon ridge when I seen shadows moving in the grass and then that arrow hits Little Billy.”

McClusky, who had begun to consider himself an expert on the Indian, said, “What kind were they, Ike? Waco? Comanche?”

“I don’t know,” Isaac said. “I never stopped to ask. I took off riding and here I am.”

It wasn’t like the Comanche to loose an arrow before they had stampeded your mounts and it wasn’t like them to miss a rider and hit his horse. Horses were a currency for them, and to some bands they were outright family.

We spent the night waiting for our camp to be overrun and by the time morning rolled round, our nerves were frayed and we were jumpy as cats.

Or most of us, anyway. When the sky paled, I looked over and saw that Juan had lain down at some point and gone to sleep.

I walked over and toed him with my boot.

“You get a good rest?” I said.

“Muy bien,” he told me, smiling.

“That’s good. You feel up to a little Indian fighting this morning, or would you rather sleep a little more?”

“I am at your service, Captain. What would you have of me?”

Well, I wasn’t entirely sure. I wondered whether we ought to just let the previous night’s attack go unanswered. A certain type of man might have thought Uncle Isaac had gotten off rather cheaply. But as the purpose of our company was to stop depredations before they occurred, I decided we’d best go take a look.

And so, I made one of the worst decisions of my captaincy—perhaps of my life. Which is saying something: it is a long, lurid list.

“What do you think?” McClusky asked.

“Well,” I said, “I reckon we ought at least ride out and see how the cat jumps.”

Which suited the Irishman just fine. Course, he didn’t need a reason to hunt Indians, would’ve killed any one of them for a fid of tobacco.

We debouched along a cattle trail that led up through the scrub. The ground was wet and you

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