Gone to Texas Read Free

the handsome little animals of their freedom. He was, nevertheless, eager for the chase to begin, and he forgot about the Spaniards.
    Between hills near a small creek beyond the Brazos, Nolan set the carpenters to work building a crude, square, roofless fort of five-foot-tall log walls. The rest of the men built pens of stout posts set close together for corralling the mustangs.
    One day when the pens were nearly ready for use, Danlin shouted, “Injuns!” Ellis ran to the fort for his rifle, Duncan by his side. He’d fought Cherokees in the forest, but he knew Comanches only by their awesome reputation. He leveled his rifle over the log wall and held his breath.
    The Comanches approached in a long line, with grim-faced warriors in the lead, followed by the women and children with the travois and pack ponies. Nolan walked toward them, making signs with both hands. One Comanche, who looked like he might be the chief, replied with similar signals, then rode forward and shook hands with Nolan, who turned to his men. “Put down your guns,” he called. “They’re friendly.” The chief dismounted, and the two talked in Spanish, which many Comanches seemed to understand.
    Ellis stared at the short, stocky warriors, who weren’t like any Indians he’d ever seen. They wore fringed elkskin leggings, breechclouts, and buffalo robes. Most carried mean-looking lances as well as bows and arrows, and a few had old guns. They controlled their well-trained ponies with thin rawhide ropes looped around the animals’ lower jaws. They looked fierce, but all seemed pleased to see Nolan. Ellis watched in amazement as the women and children quickly unpacked the travois formed by lodge poles tied over the ponies’ shoulders, and put up more than twenty tipis of mellow buffalo hides, blackened at the tops by smoke.
    Nolan returned to his men. “They’re headin’ south to hunt buffalo. We can trade with them tonight. The Comanches are the most powerful tribe in Texas, so we’ve got to keep them friendly. Don’t do anything to anger them. Above all, leave the women alone.”
    Broad-shouldered, thin-legged Charles King spat. “Even horny as I am that oughta be easy,” he said. “I ain’t ever seen a squaw worth diddlin’ nohow.”
    Nolan smiled, a knowing smile, Ellis thought. “Don’t be so sure,” he said. “Some of the young ones are real beauties. But if you fool around with them and survive, you’ll be singing soprano. Leave them be.”
    In the morning, Ellis watched as the Comanche women quickly took down the tipis while the boys drove the pony herd into camp. In fifteen minutes the travois were packed with large bundles tied to the dragging tipi poles behind the ponies’ heels. The warriors rode ahead and the others followed.
    The next morning eleven of the best horses were missing. Nolan was outraged. “It’s not like Comanches to steal from their friends,” he said, “and I know the chief doesn’t approve. It’s just that every man does what he wants to, and the chiefs have no power to stop them. We can’t run mustangs without those horses, but we should be able to catch up with them in a day or two when they stop to hunt.”
    With Fero, Robert Ashley, Joseph Reed, Ellis, Duncan, and Caesar, Nolan set out on foot, grimly following the tracks made by the dragging travois poles. But the Co-manches didn’t stop soon to hunt; it was nine days before they came upon their camp. All but the women and children and a few old warriors were away hunting buffalo. Nolan spoke to one of the old men.
    â€œHe says the one-eyed man stole our horses,” he told the others. “He’ll be easy to recognize.” The Comanche women fed them roast buffalo meat, then they wearily lay down to rest from their long journey.
    Late in the afternoon they heard children squealing and dogs barking, and knew the