Reed Anthony, Cowman | Page 8

a few of them had as many as four
pistols,--two in their belts and two in saddle holsters. It looked to me as
if this was to be a military expedition, and I began to wonder if I had
not had enough war the past few years, but kept quiet. The start was
made June 10, 1866, from the Brazos River, in what is now Young
County, the herd numbering twenty-two hundred big beeves. A
chuck-wagon, heavily loaded with supplies and drawn by six yoke of
fine oxen, a remuda of eighty-five saddle horses and mules, together
with seventeen men, constituted the outfit. Fort Sumner lay to the
northwest, and I was mildly surprised when the herd bore off to the
southwest. This was explained by young Goodnight, who was in charge
of the herd, saying that the only route then open or known was on our
present course to the Pecos River, and thence up that stream to our
destination.
Indian sign was noticed a few days after starting. Goodnight and
Loving both read it as easily as if it had been print,--the abandoned
camps, the course of arrival and departure, the number of horses,

indicating who and what they were, war or hunting parties--everything
apparently simple and plain as an alphabet to these plainsmen. Around
the camp-fire at night the chronicle of the Comanche tribe for the last
thirty years was reviewed, and their overbearing and defiant attitude
towards the people of Texas was discussed, not for my benefit, as it
was common history. Then for the first time I learned that the
Comanches had once mounted ten thousand warriors, had frequently
raided the country to the coast, carrying off horses and white children,
even dictating their own terms of peace to the republic of Texas. At the
last council, called for the purpose of negotiating for the return of
captive white children in possession of the Comanches, the assembly
had witnessed a dramatic termination. The same indignity had been
offered before, and borne by the whites, too weak to resist the numbers
of the Comanche tribe. In this latter instance, one of the war chiefs, in
spurning the remuneration offered for the return of a certain white girl,
haughtily walked into the centre of the council, where an insult could
be seen by all. His act, a disgusting one, was anticipated, as it was not
the first time it had been witnessed, when one of the Texans present
drew a six-shooter and killed the chief in the act. The hatchet of the
Comanche was instantly dug up, and had not been buried at the time we
were crossing a country claimed by him as his hunting ground.
Yet these drovers seemed to have no fear of an inferior race. We held
our course without a halt, scarcely a day passing without seeing more
or less fresh sign of Indians. After crossing the South Fork of the
Brazos, we were attacked one morning just at dawn, the favorite hour
of the Indian for a surprise. Four men were on herd with the cattle and
one near by with the remuda, our night horses all securely tied to the
wagon wheels. A feint attack was made on the commissary, but under
the leadership of Goodnight a majority of us scrambled into our saddles
and rode to the rescue of the remuda, the chief objective of the surprise.
Two of the boys from the herd had joined the horse wrangler, and on
our arrival all three were wickedly throwing lead at the circling Indians.
The remuda was running at the time, and as we cut through between it
and the savages we gave them the benefit of our rifles and six-shooter
in passing. The shots turned the saddle stock back towards our camp
and the mounted braves continued on their course, not willing to try

issues with us, although they outnumbered us three to one. A few
arrows had imbedded themselves in the ground around camp at the first
assault, but once our rifles were able to distinguish an object clearly,
the Indians kept well out of reach. The cattle made a few surges, but
once the remuda was safe, there was an abundance of help in holding
them, and they quieted down before sunrise. The Comanches had no
use for cattle, except to kill and torture them, as they preferred the flesh
of the buffalo, and once our saddle stock and the contents of the wagon
were denied them, they faded into the dips of the plain.
The journey was resumed without the delay of an hour. Our first brush
with the noble red man served a good purpose, as we were doubly
vigilant thereafter whenever there was cause to expect an attack. There
was an abundance of water, as we