Free Black Hat Jack by Joe R. Lansdale Page B

aside, and drew his pistol.
    Me and Millie was already moving then. I wasn’t looking at Jack anymore. We came out of the wallow on the side, me with them saddle bags full of ammunition thrown over my shoulder, the dead horse’s bridle there too, carrying my Winchester. We ran toward Satan, who stood in his spot, tossing his head. He had gone to nickering too, and I hadn’t gone but a few steps when I tried to whistle, but my mouth was too dry. I didn’t stop though, just kept running, Millie beside me. Any moment I expected Satan to bolt, and there we’d be, out of what protection the wallow offered and on foot.
    Behind us Jack’s pistol was popping something furious. I heard gunfire from the Kiowa too. I glanced back once, and them Kiowa was all over Jack, like coyotes trying to take down an old buffalo bull. They was swinging hatchets and clubs and knifes, but Jack, bad off as he was, was making a hell of a stand of it. He had lost that black buffalo hat, no longer had his pistol, but was gripping his skinning knife instead. It flashed in the starlight as it went up and down and slashed right and left.
    When I turned back to what was at hand, here come Satan, trotting toward us like he had just been waiting on us. He come right up to me and nickered. I gave Millie my Winchester to hold, patted his nose, then put that bridle on him. I swung up on his back, stuck out my hand, and pulled Millie up behind me.
    We was facing the Kiowa then, and I felt mounted I could do Jack some good, come swooping down on them, but it was too late. I saw him fall beneath a rain of blows. But I’ll say this for Jack, their numbers was thinner now. Jack had killed three of them that I could see. The live ones was shoving at one another now, competing for who was going to take Jack’s scalp.

Turning Satan with a touch of the reins, I put my heels to him and he began to fly.
    Millie said, “They’re coming.”
    I turned to look. Four of those Kiowa was coming after us, having lost interest in Jack now, and maybe lost the tussle over his scalp. They was excited and whooping and really urging their horses.
    I hooked my right heel into Satan, swung out to my left so that I was hanging way out from him, him at a full gallop. I had the reins in my teeth. I hung out there in the wind and cocked my Winchester. I didn’t have the baffle down, so I cocked and took my time. I aimed and squeezed off easy, and though the world was jumping, my timing was right on. I shot one of them off his horse, and then the others began to slow, and then they was dots way back behind us. I swung back in position, and away we did ride.
    Pegasus his ownself couldn’t have caught us.

 
    11 
     

We stopped at the creek by Adobe Walls, got my saddle, couple of canteens from the store, filled them from the creek. We got jerky out of there too, blankets, some odds and ends, and continued on, still double on Satan.
    As we rode along I wasn’t thinking about getting scalped as much as before, and I became aware of Millie’s arms around my waist. She leaned her body and head into my back. I could feel her warmth and her breath on the back of my neck. Even with all we had been through, and her in those dirty clothes, she smelled sweeter than a spring flower.
    That night we camped and she cried and I just lay on my bed roll across the way and let her do so without saying anything. Finally she got cried out and said, “I wanted to be a tom boy until yesterday. I was good at it. I ran off to go hunting with my brother. I shot buffalo and skinned them, and I went dirty and nasty for weeks at a time. I fought off men who wanted to get in my britches, or fought off those thought I ought not wear men’s clothing. I did all that and I was fine with it until Zeke got killed. That took the starch out of my drawers, right there, that’s what I’ve got to tell you.”
    “That’s understandable,” I said.
    “Do you think I did wrong as a woman to go out west with my