Ralph Compton Comanche Trail by Carlton Stowers

Author:Carlton Stowers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

The sun was already high in the sky as Joy Chadway stepped out onto the porch of the Reynolds cabin to greet Taylor. “I see you’re a late sleeper,” she said. “Good thing there was no need for a marshal while you were getting your beauty rest.”

Taylor’s face reddened. “How’s the Barstow woman?”

“July Barstow seems much better. Still got a fever and needs a great deal of rest, but she regained consciousness early this morning and even took a bit of nourishment. It’s a good thing you and your friend did.”

“July, you say?”

“You didn’t even know the Christian name of the woman you rescued?”

Taylor shook his head. “Just her last name. Her boy’s kind of a friend of mine.”

She stepped toward him and touched his arm. “I must say I’m proud to know you, Marshal Taylor. And I’m sure July will be wanting to thank you personally as soon as she’s feeling a bit better. In the meantime, my father is planning a special prayer service for her this evening and I hope you’ll make it a plan to be present. The children will be singing.”

She walked down the steps into the street, then stopped and turned. “You should also know that there’s a dog inside that could use a trip down to the creek for bathing. He won’t leave her bed and I understand he was another poor soul you chose to rescue. Has he got a name?”

Taylor rubbed his chin. “I reckon I could call him Dawg,” he said, “unless you’ve got a more proper idea.”

“I think Dawg would do just fine,” she said.

• • •

More than a hundred miles to the southwest, Fourth Cavalry Lieutenant Charles Hudson led a company of troopers toward Dawson’s Ridge.

He had never even heard of the town before a courier arrived from Fort Sill with orders from Colonel Mackenzie. Hudson and his company, which had spent months chasing and rarely catching small bands of renegade Comanches wandering the Texas plains, were to travel there immediately and check on the status of Sergeant Murphy and his men. Weeks had passed since he sent word they were investigating the possibility of Comanches in the region, and the silence had become a cause for concern. Hudson led his twenty-five men eastward with only a general idea of where the new settlement was or what they might expect once they arrived.

It did seem odd to Lieutenant Hudson, a seasoned Indian fighter, that there would be serious activity so far to the northeast, well removed from what remained of the buffalo herds and in a region so sparsely inhabited by white settlers.

On the third day of their march, they saw an ashen haze in the distance long before arriving to find the burned-out remains of a small way station. The cedar log building was gone, outlined only by its limestone foundation. The fences of a corral had been torn down and the blackened shell of a single wagon sat nearby. One dead mule lay beside it, covered by a thick coat of flies.

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