The Texans Read Free Page B

have just been talk, but what was indeed a fact were the two Lipan Apache skulls stuck on top of fence posts at the Prussian’s corral. The two Indians had made the mistake of trying to steal his horses.
    â€œWhat’s this about Comanches?” Israel Wilson stepped out on the porch, followed by the rest of the clan.
    â€œOdie saw a Comanche,” Red Wing said.
    He wished she would quit calling him that in front of everybody. “There was just one.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you shoot him?” Mrs. Wilson asked.
    â€œWe’d best put the chain and lock on the corral,” Israel said. They had built a tall picket pen to enclose their stock at night. “The dogs will smell them out if they get close.”
    â€œBud, go fetch me my pistol gun,” Mrs. Wilson said to her oldest son.
    â€œHoney, you don’t need your pistol. Me and the boys and Major Karl have enough guns to protect you.” Israel Wilson put his arm around his wife’s waist.
    The old lady shoved him away gently and took the pistol her son brought her. “Ever since I saw what those Comanches did to Jenny Wilbarger, I vowed I won’t be caught without my gun when Indians might be at hand.”
    Odell had always been pretty impressed with Mrs. Ida, if in fact a little intimidated by her. She never failed to have something to say to him, or anyone else for that matter. She had a sharp tongue and a low opinion of most men’s ability where any kind of thinking was concerned. Life had taught her that men did little but suffer women with babies, scratch themselves, and wander off to play at the least excuse. She had birthed and raised two sons in a one-room log cabin without another woman within twenty miles to comfort her and felt that she was more than a match for any man who liked to puff himself up by making pioneer talk. While she often sounded as cranky as a wildcat with its tail being twisted, she wasn’t near as mean as she let on.
    â€œMama, quit being so dramatic. None of us are going to believe you’d shoot yourself to keep the Comanches from getting you. You couldn’t stand the thought of missing out on scolding them a little while you had the chance.” Bud was already ducking out of her reach when he said it. He was the joker of the Wilsons, if a little on the slow side, and always willing to risk his mother’s wrath for the sake of fun.
    â€œLord, no, you ornery devil. Even if I was in a pinch and down to my last bullet, I wouldn’t use it on myself. I’d shoot me a Comanche to get a little even for what they’ve done to some good people I’ve known.”
    â€œMama Wilson, if those Comanches knew half of what I know about you they wouldn’t come within a day’s ride of this old place,” Israel Wilson said, but it was plain that he was a little nervous himself and trying to soothe her.
    â€œWhat about your grandfather, Odell? Is he by himself?” Mrs. Ida asked, and the accusation in her voice was plain.
    â€œYou’d better get back home,” Israel said sternly. “He might need your help.”
    Odell wished he’d never seen that Comanche, or at least had kept his mouth shut about it. He had nothing left but a long walk back in the dark while the Prussian got to stay with Red Wing. He picked up his rifle and started home. The last thing he heard before he was out of earshot was the sound of a piano and Red Wing singing.
    His pace was much slower on his return, and he made the journey in a brooding daze. Red Wing would soon be of marrying age, and he could see no way to compete with a fancy, foreign gentleman like the Prussian. Folks said the man was a baron or something back where he came from. Odell thought if his foolish Pappy would just give him another horse he could at least look more the part of an eligible suitor.
    He had just sworn to himself to get out from under Pappy’s thumb when he rounded the bend in the river