Free Silver City Massacre by Charles G. West Page B

woman’s composure with no sign of the grief he would have expected. “I’m right sorry we couldn’t have gotten here a little sooner. Maybe we coulda helped.”
    â€œHow did you manage to come outta this alive?” Riley asked. As it did to Joel, it seemed to him an unlikely happening.
    â€œI don’t rightly know,” she replied. “They came up to us like they were real peaceful, so they could see what we were carryin’, I reckon. David—that’s my uncle—said he knew Injuns, and we could give ’em some food, and they’d leave us alone. It looked like he might be right, but all of a sudden, one of ’em pulled a pistol out of his belt and just started firin’ away. The others cut the horses loose. My sister and her husband tried to run to the wagon to stop ’em, but they shot both of ’em before they got more’n three steps. Then all of ’em started shootin’. Some of ’em cut Peter and Ethel down, and when the boys tried to defend their folks, the Injuns shot them. One of ’em tried to shoot me, but his rifle misfired, and I grabbed my uncle’s rifle and killed that son of a bitch. I crawled under the wagon and reloaded. When another’n tried to grab me by the foot and drag me outta there, I let him have it right between the eyes. I reckon they decided it wasn’t worth it tryin’ to get me, so they backed off, yellin’ and howlin’ like a bunch of coyotes. I held the rifle on ’em, like I was goin’ to shoot if they came near me again, and I was hopin’ and prayin’ they didn’t, because my rifle was empty. The cartridges were inside the wagon and I was afraid to make a try for ’em. I don’t know when they set the wagons on fire, because they looked like they were in a hurry to get away from here.”
    â€œDamn, lady,” Riley softly exclaimed. “You’ve been through a terrible time.”
    â€œThe thing that hurts my heart,” she said, “was I couldn’t save Ruthie. I called for her to crawl under the wagon with me, but before she could, one of those devils snatched her up and rode off with her.”
    â€œMaybe we can still catch up with ’em,” Joel said. “Might not be too late for the girl.” He looked up toward the sun. “There ain’t all that much daylight left. They oughta be stoppin’ to make camp, if they ain’t got a village nearby.”
    â€œEasy enough to track,” Riley said, examining the hoofprints leading away from the wagons. “How many were there?”
    â€œWe counted seven when they first caught up with us,” she said, “so that leaves five not countin’ those two.” She nodded toward the bodies.
    Riley finally asked the question that had first occurred to him. “What in God’s name were you folks doin’ out here by yourselves?”
    â€œWhen we left Fort Laramie, we were part of a train with twenty wagons. Two days out, the Ferrises’ wagon broke a wheel, so they had to take it back to get it fixed. The rest of the train wouldn’t wait, ’cause we were already so late in the season, so we volunteered to wait with them, figurin’ on catching up with the others later.”
    â€œThat was bad luck,” Joel said, and then he thought to introduce himself and Riley. “My name’s Joel McAllister and this is Riley Tarver. We’re on our way to Silver City, but we’re gonna see if we can follow those Indians first, and hope we’re lucky enough to find the girl unharmed.” He glanced at Riley to make sure he was thinking the same, and he quickly nodded his agreement. “How old is the girl?”
    â€œShe’s goin’ on thirteen.”
    â€œThat might explain why they rode off with her. If she was a little older, they mighta killed her on the spot. Sometimes they keep the young children captive.” He