Free Blood Feather by Don Bendell Page B

friendship. Nothing makes men closer than facing death together, and death would certainly visit them this day.
    Laughing Dog was from the Quahadi tribe of Comanches, and so were the fifteen men in his raiding party. Two scouts had spotted Strongheart and Colt at a distance and ridden back to report to Laughing Dog. The war party closed in and kept the two men in sight until they made their night camp.
    The men talked over cups of steaming hot cocoa, compliments of Dutch, as they lay by the fire. They had made their campsite in an arroyo.
    Colt said, “Did you spot the Comanches following us?”
    Strongheart said, “Yes, how many are there?”
    Colt said, “I counted fifteen, but there may be as many as twenty.”
    Joshua said, “They’ll attack us at first light.”
    Chris replied, “Yep, but we need to be in a better spot tactically when they do attack. Do you have a belly gun?”
    Strongheart said, “Yep, I carry two in my saddlebags, plus my Winchester and plenty of rounds for that.”
    Colt said, “Good. We want to have the sun behind us so it’s in their faces.”
    Strongheart said, “Why don’t we ride or walk into their camp from the east and start the ball ourselves, right at or just before daybreak?”
    Colt laughed. “That’s a great idea! They don’t like to fight in the dark.”
    Strongheart said, “Want me to take first watch?”
    Colt laughed. “Why bother? Those boys are going to be restless and watching over us all night. Why don’t we both get sleep? They aren’t going to try putting the sneak on us.”
    Strongheart said, “Why don’t we move our camp closer to them and leave some dummies by our fire?”
    Colt chuckled. “That’s another great idea. We can cover some bushes with spare shirts, leave our hats over the heads, and still wrap up in our blankets to sleep.”
    Strongheart said, “I’ll get some logs that will burn a long time.”
    Chris got up and said, “I’ll start making some brush dummies.”
    It was almost daylight when Chris Colt and Joshua Strongheart mounted up on their horses. Joshua had crawled in and memorized the layout of the Comanche camp and where each man was sleeping. He’d come back and drawn the layout on the ground with a stick so he could brief Chris. They started moving forward slowly on their horses.
    Strongheart was nervous, as they were taking on so many. Fortunately, only a handful of the Comanches had guns. The rest had bows and arrows. The pair moved forward slowly on their horses, and now the Comanches’ location was in sight. The sun was just starting to peak over the eastern horizon. Besides his prized Peacemaker, Strongheart had a Colt Army .45 single-action revolver in his left hand and another tucked into his gunbelt at the small of his back. Chris Colt had his own pair of matched, engraved Colt .45 Peacemakers, and he also had a Colt Army tucked into his belt in the front.
    The two men continued to move forward slowly, Colt from the southeast and Strongheart from the northeast. As the Comanches tried to shoot, they would be getting direct sunlight in their eyes from the breaking dawn behind the duo. Two of the war party were already awake and preparing to leave, and the one on the right finally turned and saw Joshua. He never got to yell his warning, as the bullet slammed into his chest, and Strongheart saw the other one fly backward from Colt’s first shot. There was a cacophony of explosions as the Colt six-shooters sent deadly round after deadly round into the surprised Comanche warriors. A few arrows were launched, and Chris Colt felt a tug under his left arm, then a burn as a bullet tore a little of the flesh of his trapezius muscle passing through his shirt.
    Both horses seemed to sense what to do, as they moved the riders forward while also moving side to side. As soon as each man fired twelve