Silver City Massacre Read Online Free PDF Page A

hoax. “One buffalo or three deer hides,” he said, having no notion what a rifle should trade for if he really was bartering.
    Black Otter agreed immediately without consulting Little Hawk, which led Joel to believe his price had been a lot less than the Indians were expecting. “Little Hawk wants to know when you will bring these guns,” he asked.
    â€œOne month,” Joel replied. “Tell him one moon, and we’ll be back with a wagonload of guns and ammunition.”
    Black Otter looked at Little Hawk, who nodded when told of Joel’s promise. “Go in peace,” he said. “We return to our village now. In one moon’s time, we will return to this place with many skins to trade.”
    â€œGood,” Joel said. “We will come back to this place.”
    Riley got a box of the paper combustible cartridges from the packs and handed them to Black Otter. “You’re gonna need these,” he said.
    The Indians turned their horses back toward the south, preparing to leave. Little Hawk nodded solemnly to each white man, then made one more comment to Black Otter before nudging his pony to step smartly away, his new carbine in one hand, held high over his head. Joel looked at Black Otter, questioning.
    Black Otter shrugged. “He said you’d better build a fire to dry your clothes.”
    â€œI expect that’s so,” Riley said, standing beside Joel as the Indians departed the grove of trees. After the Comanche disappeared as suddenly as they had arrived, he turned to face Joel. “Damned if you ain’t the best liar I’ve ever met, and I’ve known some good ones, myself included.” He chuckled at the thought of having been at the mercy of a party of Comanche warriors, yet still standing with their scalps intact. “We’d best saddle up and get the hell away from here while we got a chance. That one feller looked like he’d just as soon shoot us and be done with it.”
    Joel hesitated and thought about it. “I don’t know,” he said then. “I think if they were gonna jump us, they would have done it while we were standin’ in the middle of all of ’em. If they start to think about whether or not they got skunked, they might sneak back to see if we skedaddled. I think we’ll be all right to stay right here and leave in the mornin’.” He turned away then and started back toward the packs. “Besides,” he added, “I’m wet as hell, and I need some coffee. There ain’t but about a couple of hours of daylight left, anyway.” He started again, then halted to say one more thing. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. We’ve got to be a helluva lot more careful about lettin’ anybody sneak up on us like that.”
    â€œWhy?” Riley joked. “You can just make up another story to tell ’em.” Another thought occurred. “Damned if we weren’t lucky as hell there was one Injun in that bunch that could talk American.”
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    After a supper of beans and bacon, Joel and Riley sat on their bedrolls, drinking coffee, completely naked except for their boots, which they had had the sense to take off before jumping in the river a few hours before. Their clothes, including the underwear, were hung on crude screens fashioned from willow branches and drying on the other side of a healthy campfire. Both men had an extra shirt and underwear, but they figured they had to wait for their pants to dry anyway, so they decided to save the extra clothing. Riley got up to test the progress of the drying uniforms.
    â€œThat evenin’ breeze is starting to feel a little bit nippy on this old hide,” he said. “Maybe I oughta move these clothes a little closer to the fire.”
    â€œIf you move ’em any closer, you’re likely to set ’em on fire,” Joel said, although he, too, was beginning to