Goodnight's Dream (A Floating Outfit Western Book 4) Read Online Free Page A

no point in taking unnecessary
chances.
    All too well Goodnight knew the
Comanche Nation. While a loyal Texan, he had declined to fight for
the South during the War. Instead he had given his services for the
benefit of the State by being a member of Captain Jack Cureton’s
company of Texas Rangers. Acting as Cureton’s chief scout—the title
‘Colonel’ being honorary, granted in respect for his fighting
ability and integrity—Goodnight had learned much about the Nemenuh iii So he realized the danger and knew
that, unless Loving and Sid had been killed before reaching the
shelter of the cave, other Kweharehnuh warriors would gather fast to share in the sport
and spoils. By the time the rescue party arrived, there might be a
large number of the hard-fighting Comanche braves present. If so,
Goodnight did not want them to be warned of his coming.
    To give them their due, the soldiers could
handle their horses and mules real well. Veterans of the War, they
knew how to travel fast for long periods and did not delay the
Texans as the latter feared they might with the howitzers along.
Ordinary horse-artillery, drawing their guns and limbers along on
wheels, could not have kept pace with the mounted men across the
range country. The mules, specially selected for their work,
carried their disassembled lightweight howitzers at a speed equal
to that of the horses.
    On they rode, not even night’s
arrival causing them to slow their pace. The scouts saw no sign of
the braves who had pursued Spat, so Goodnight concluded they had returned to the
main attack force. Nor did the Kweharehnuh appear to have taken the trouble to send
out scouts. Probably they had assumed that the three white men did
not belong to a larger body and that Spat had fled to save his life
at the expense of his companions.
    Reaching the rim above the Pecos, the
rescuers stayed on top until the first hints of dawn began to
appear in the eastern sky. Then Spat announced that they were
within two miles of where he had left Loving and Sid.
    ‘ I can’t hear any shooting,’ Lane said
as the cowhand finished speaking. ‘Surely we should by
now.’
    ‘ It’s not likely,’ Goodnight replied.
‘Unless there’s no way of avoiding it, Comanches don’t fight at
night.’
    ‘ Maybe they’re not around anymore,’
Lane suggested, just a hint of disappointment in his
voice.
    ‘ If they’re not, Major,’
Goodnight answered coldly, ‘I’ve lost a real good friend.
This’s Kweharehnuh country and they’re like bulldogs in a fight. Once they
take hold, they stick until they’re killed or it’s
over.’
    ‘ What do you suggest?’ Lane asked in a
low tone. While willing to accept advice from a man he had heard
Army officers in Texas mention as an authority on Indian-fighting,
he did not want his men to know that he requested it.
    ‘ Was it me, I’d have the trail hands
and at least half the horse-soldiers down there on the other side
of the river and you up here with your guns where you can see what
you’re shooting at. Soon’s we see the Comanches, we’ll let you toss
a couple of cannon balls at ’em, then go in like the devil after a
yearling.’
    ‘ We’ll toss more than just a couple,
and there’ll be case shot among them, seventy-eight musket balls
a-piece.’
    ‘ That’s your side of it, Major,’
Goodnight said. ‘Let’s get moving and find a place for my bunch to
go down.’
    Nodding agreement, Lane hid his surprise at
discovering the rancher’s appreciation of how to handle the affair.
Of course, many Texans had served in the Confederate Army and he
recalled having heard the cowhands address Goodnight as ‘Colonel’.
That could account for the other’s knowledge of tactics.
    After riding on a short way, they found a
place down which Goodnight’s part of the force could reach the
river. Although the cavalry sergeant frowned when told by Lane to
act as Goodnight ordered, he made no comment. Many anxious glances
were directed by the