ONLY ONE CAN WIN

By Richie Brotherton

Rex Thorne, a tremendous young Calvary scout decided to leave the cavalry so he could start a ranch. While his fiancé was traveling by stagecoach to meet him at the ranch she was kidnapped by some rowdy's. He took up their trail and followed it halfway across the Texas panhandle trying to rescue her. On the way back to the ranch after his long s

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richie Brotherton
• Release date: Mar 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798890214140

Richie Brotherton

Richie Brotherton spent his professional career working in agriculture; farming, ranching and consulting. He is an avid sports fan. He graduated from Texas A&M University with a degree in Range Management, after he completed a tour in the Army. He and his three sons go bird hunting when they can. The whole family are musicians.

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Copyright © 2024 Richie Brotherton

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Dedication

To my wife Linda Sue and our three sons, Jeb, Matt and Cody. A very fine crew – so fine they can even inspire me.

Chapter One

Smoke slowly rose through the cottonwood trees that lined the banks of the Prairie Dog Town Fork of the Red River. Lingering with the powder smoke was the smell of gunpowder. Both, it seemed, were awaiting a Texas breeze to wisp them away. It was close to sunset and the western sky was turning orange and pink behind fluffy white clouds that hung just above the horizon. The setting sun outlined the edge of some of the small clouds giving them a brilliant yellow border. A typical Texas panhandle sunset.

Two men had been caught in a battle with Indians in those trees along the river. Both of these men now stalked out of those cottonwoods, their chaps flapping as they labored through the soft sand along the riverbank, toward the shimmering water that lay in a pool along the bank. They removed their hats and stretched their long length along the cut bank and hung their heads over to drink of the water that slid along humming its promise over the pebble sized multicolored rocks that glittered in the sand just beneath the shallow depth.

Both men wore the rough outdoor clothes typical of range riders. Both were young, virile and strong. There, however, all resemblance ceased.

Rex, I reckon I wounded one of them ‘skins. Could be that’s what caused ‘em to pull out. Just the same, I’ve got an awful hankering to put some country between me and this place as soon as we can catch them onery horses. I shore thought they had us for keeps, announced Jim Tabor as he finished his drink. Being the taller of the two had made the water more accessible to him and he had been the first to slack his thirst. He was, in fact, very tall and he possessed a pair of hands that seemed too large – even for a man of his stature. Those hands which would not fit into his pockets coupled with a cherub nose and large prominent ears stamped homeliness all over him.

Sure, glad I can swaller uphill, sputtered his companion as his head and shoulders reappeared. Rex Thorne stretched himself to his full height which was a couple of inches less than that of his friend. However, he was not short by any means, not even in this land of tall Texans.

Jabbing his old Stetson back on his light brown wavy locks, he flashed his light blue eyes at his friend. From very broad shoulders to narrow hips, he was cut like a wedge and as he walked toward Jim his muscles rippled beneath his clothes.

Clapping a hand on Jim’s shoulder in the lengthening shadows, Rex said, I’m ready to vamoose. Got any idea where our horses went?

Well from the looks of these tracks they’re headed down the river and I’m afeerd have beelined it for a big patch of grass and I hope it ain’t very far from right here.

Yeah. Shore hope we can catch up to ‘em, agreed Rex showing concern for the first time. I ain’t looking forward to hoofing it ten or twelve miles to that camp. Come on Jim, let’s strike their trail before it gets plumb dark. If we can’t see their tracks, we’ll probably never find them.

Okay, Rex. What do you suppose those Apache’s were doing around here? asked Jim as they began hurrying along the riverbank.

What makes you think they were Apache’s? questioned his friend while they walked along following the tracks their horses had left. You know this ain’t Apache country down in here.

Well, I had a good look at that redskin I shot, and he was ‘pache. He stuck his head up looking for you when you moved to a new position. He was wearing war paint and shore enough had the real wide headband like some of them Apache’s like to wear.

Yeah, that sounds like an Apache all right. Probably not good that they were hanging around here wearing war paint, said Rex.

Yep. I doubt a Comanche would be wearing war paint since its home to them down in here, replied Jim.

Probably an Apache hunting party then. Yeah, out hunting scalps! Ours I guess. Maybe the Major can shed some light on it when we get to camp. He planned to send a couple of parties out. Maybe they made it back on time even if we didn’t, said Rex.

Don’t let him hear you calling his details’ parties.’ This getting in late won’t set too good with him no how. I don’t know about you Rex, but I’m not real fond of scouting for Major McCall. He’s a stickler for dong everything by the book, and dealing with Indians don’t always fit that kind of pattern.

Me either, Jim, but he’s Cavalry plumb through. I’m sure sorry I had to draw him on my last tour out. As soon as I get this outfit back to the fort, I’m going to get out of this government scouting…hey, did you hear a horse snort? Well, I did and even if it belongs to old Chief Black Horse it won’t matter. I’m bound to ride him out of here. Listen up, said Rex and he had his head cocked sideways to hear better. I hear em. Walk easy now, we sure don’t need to scare those horses.

Okay, Rex. Just sneak up there and catch ‘em, and I’ll keep my eyes peeled from here. Them chaps and spurs ain’t a goin’ to make the slightest sound, Jim quipped with a broad smile. Sneak right up close and nab ‘um, he continued and his smile seemed to grow as he talked, and when he smiled his ears wiggled slightly.

Walking as softly as he could into the shadows, Rex left Jim to follow from a safe distance. Approaching the vicinity that he had marked by the sound he was sure he’d heard, he was unable to spot any kind of movement or see the horses. However, it was almost full dark down in these trees along the riverbank, and he couldn’t see far. A horse, or anything for that matter, that was stationary would naturally blend into the shadows. Some little movement would be necessary to allow the eye to recognize a distinctive shape.

Knowing full well that a horse will stand like a stone when being approached until he decides to continue grazing or to run from danger, Rex crept forward peering into the shapes and shadows that always form at dusk. There were a hundred dark areas among the trees and brush along the river that could conceal a horse or even an Indian for that matter.

Rex was not one to imagine sounds. Not even at this time of day, immediately following an Indian ambush. However, he was certain he had heard the muffled snort a horse makes while grazing. It was a sound he was very familiar with. Slipping through the odd shapes and dark shadows, with the night closing rapidly around him, he continued moving forward with a slow but steady pace. Suddenly a little movement off to his right accompanied by the creaking of saddle leather alerted him to the location of the horses. After a few more steps he was able to make out the silhouette of a horse grazing in the dark.

Come on, Jim; they’re ours, … whoa, Beggar, steady now. ‘Atta boy, whoa, now, he called softly to the the horse as it began to move away.

As Rex was carefully stalking the horses, Jim caught up and with both men expertly on the job, the horses were soon under mount once again.

You know, Rex, it’s nice that we are going to be able to ride to camp, but now we’ll just have to face the music that much sooner, commented Jim.

You’re thinking about McCall? questioned Rex.

Major McCall, my boy, and you know he won’t like us coming in late, emphasized Jim again as he talked in his way of adding extra importance to things.

Better late than never, and I thought it might be never there for a little while. I ‘spect he’ll really grind it in though since we don’t see eye to eye. He knows I don’t like killing Indians. If you and I weren’t together, he’d probably really have it in for me, Rex replied.

Well, I wasn’t meaning that you were the one that made us late, replied Jim. Sometimes you just can’t help what happens.

Oh, sure. I know. But I’ve kept the Major from riding into about two or three different Indian ambushes. All he seems to remember is that the Indians got away. That last time for sure I needed to stick my fingers in my ears. That man has got a real good set of lungs, and when he puffs up like a caught horny toad, his vocabulary sure seems to deteriorate.

Kicking their horses into a lope, they rode the remaining distance in comparative silence. It wasn’t long before a cavalry fire guided them straight to the camp they were looking for.

Halt! Who goes there? came the sentries call from near the camp.

Thorne. Jim Tabor’s with me, sentry.

Advance slowly, called the guard. Then turning, he hailed his camp. Riders coming in. Tell the Major his scouts are here.

Rex and Jim dismounted, and Rex hailed a trooper. Hey, soldier, take care of these horses for us, we better report in fast. Where’s the Major?

Yes, sir! The Major is by his tent over there, the soldier replied, pointing at a small fire on the outskirts of the camp.

I’ll take care of these horses, Sandy, offered Jim. Rex can talk to the Major. I’ll meet you at the cookfire, Rex.

Okay, Jim. Take the easy way out. I’ll get even with you for that though, teased Rex wishing he didn’t have to go over there either.

Thorne, spoke up the trooper as he moved to help Jim with the horses, I’m afraid Tabor has the right idea. The Major has been inquiring about you every little bit. I’m afraid you’ll find that he’s upset about how late you’re getting in.

Just great, mumbled Rex to himself as he walked off continuing to talk to himself. This whole day’s been that way. First fighting Injuns – then losing our horses and now Major William A. McCall! Holy smokes, fighting the Apache’s has been the best part of my day. Yeh, and I never even nicked one of them. What a bust. Well, Mr. Rex Thorne, you’d better be glad you’re about starved, cause unless I miss my guess, you’re gonna have to swaller a couple of things.

As Rex approached the Major’s tent, he could see the Major waiting impatiently in front of his tent by his fire. He was peering into the darkness and tapping his fingers against the legs of his pants.

So, you finally made it, challenged the Major when Rex stalked into the circle of firelight. Where in the thunder have you two been? You were supposed to be in this camp at noon today. We’ve been just sitting here – waiting for you two to arrive! Where is Tabor now? I was informed that he was with you.

Rex walked up to the fire, looking into the flames, allowing himself an instant to get himself in hand while the Major was firing questions non-stop. Looking up, he regarded the Major briefly. The two stood nearly eyeball to eyeball and each took the measure of the other. Both possessed the stature and bearing of leaders. In a clash of wills, there would certainly be a Mexican standoff between them if it ever came to that. Each man in his own way was wise in the things he chose and they each had the ability to think on their feet.

Here, however, true to one of the greatest qualities of a true leader, Rex recognized the command of Major McCall and would adhere to it. He accomplished this with the honest poise that relinquishes command without jealousy, but not necessarily without effort.

Jim’s unsaddling the horses sir, and the reason we’re a little late is on account of some Indians that jumped us. We were trying to get a line on their movements when they pinned us down. It was darn near dark when we got away from them, he reported, knowing that if anything could interest this man that news about Indians would do it, since that was the reason they were out here anyway.

What happened? inquired the Major instantly stepping toward Rex.

Aw, you see we was headed this way when we stopped at the river to water our horses there at the ford. While we were stopped, we noticed unshod hoof prints and knew that some Indians had been along just ahead of us. We trailed them most of the morning and then a little after dinner, which we missed, we climbed on top of the caprock for a looksee. Never caught sight of nary a single Indian. Well, we knew you’d be expecting us, so we headed for camp. To make a long story short, they pinned us down when we were coming back across the river. Jim eventually creased one just about dark that he says was an Apache. They just melted into the earth like they were never there at all. You know how they can do. After we finally rounded up our horses, we beelined it for camp and, well, here we are. They sure had us in a tight spot though. Don’t know why they pulled out, but I’m sure glad they did.

All right, Thorne. I sent out a detail to search for you about two hours ago. I was afraid that you might have run into some trouble. I know it’s not like you to be late. The detail reported chasing a party of about ten Indians, which they say scattered like quail. That’s the reason those bucks high tailed it. I’m sure of it. Naturally, we’ll catch this bunch tomorrow and rid the frontier of them.

Now I have some more business to discuss with you. You’re sighting these Indians makes me feel a bit better. However, I never allow misunderstandings to exist in my command. Therefore, I will explain fully how you came to be assigned to me this time; and here it is in a nutshell. I requested a scout named Tom Slaughter for this trip. You know him, of course, but I don’t believe you have ever worked with him. In my estimation, Slaughter is the best Indian scout on the frontier and especially in Texas. They say he draws a quick pistol – has killed some men in gunfights. I don’t know about any of that, but I must say he is reported to be a hard character sometimes, but his scouting has been – let’s say, the best I’ve ever experienced. Once he gets on the trail of Indians, he’s like a hound on the scent. Anyway, he was not available, and you were recommended by Colonel Davidson. I was in no position to refuse! We have worked together before and I know that you know your business.

Now what I want you to understand, Thorne, is this. I came out here to get Indians. I know you feel the Indian has been mistreated, not dealt with fairly. However, I am in command here, and when I need you to track them or scout them out, that is exactly what you will do. Do I make myself clear?

Yes, sir, Rex replied. Never had no other thought than to follow orders sir.

Very well then, Thorne. We can work together again. Now go get something to eat. You’ve had a rough day, responded the Major, proving he was not altogether a callous man. I told the cook to save chow for you and Tabor.

Rex approached the cookfire where all the men were gathered. They all sat around cleaning weapons, folding gear, drinking coffee, and telling stories as they usually did around a campfire after chow. Tabor was mopping up some crumbs on his plate with the remains of a biscuit.

What did the Major have to say, Rex? questioned Jim.

Aw, he was only worried about our welfare seeing as how we missed chow a couple of times and are so late getting in.

An immediate round of laughter answered this remark and lasted several minutes, and it precipitated several other comments. When the laughter and stories had died down enough to single out the last comments made around the fire, the Major bellowed from his camp, Thorne, I’m sure that you’re having fun at my expense. Whatever it was, I don’t care in the least, but I want you to know that I expect everyone to be serious about what we are trying to accomplish here. If you are not and I find out, there will be trouble between us. Now goodnight! he announced forcefully as he wheeled around in stately military fashion and marched stiffly toward his tent.

Chapter Two

The brilliant burst of dawn came too late to shine on that cavalry unit still in camp. They had packed their gear and buried their fires and trash. The area had been returned to the flora and fauna native to the site. It would take an observant eye indeed to tell that the white man had used the little glade for a camp or that anyone had been there at all. The stately cottonwoods and willows slightly rustled in the soft breeze typical of a Panhandle sunrise. Even now, the grass was springing back to its natural position, and the birds and squirrels chirped a happy greeting to the new day.

Major McCall had roused his unit early. When the stars had begun to fade with the promise of a new day, his troop was already mounted and had become hunters - hunters of Indians! They had ridden out a silent band. Each man was unconsciously preparing himself for the duties that might fall his lot to perform. The thoughts of some of the men were dark because of their mission of killing Indians. Those thoughts as dark as this darkest time of day, when all the luminous lights of the heavens had faded before a rising sun that had not yet cast any of its brilliance on the land around. By the time the warmth and light of the rising sun unveiled the world for miles around, the cavalry troop was working out the tracks of the scattered Indian band.

Thorne, spoke up Major McCall when they arrived above the place where Rex and Jim had encountered the Indians the previous day, I fully expect to catch these Indians. I believe I made myself clear on that point last night.

Yes, sir. I understand, replied the scout in a friendly tone to the Major, who rode next to Jim Tabor, while the remainder of the unit followed behind. Believe me sir, I will do my best to follow these Indians until we actually find them.

I want to know exactly how you plan to proceed from here, commanded the leader in his most authoritative voice.

Jim, ride ahead and follow the tracks ‘til you find where that band regrouped. I’ll report my plan to the Major, said Rex.

As Jim rode forward to the job assigned to him, Rex began his report, I know how bad you want to catch this bunch, Major. Rex’s usual drawl was invaded by just a hint of excitement as he talked. I want to hunt them. Tracking takes too long. Way to slow for what you want to do.

What’s the difference? questioned the Major.

There’s can be a lot of difference, but it’s hard to explain unless you know why hunting them the best we can is what will help us find them quicker. Have you ever been in this area, Major? questioned Rex while searching for a way to explain his plan to the other’s satisfaction.

No, Thorne. I’ve never been this far south. This is my first time in any part of Texas.

Let me give you an idea about the country sir, so you’ll be able to see what I’ve got in mind, said Rex.

Just what I’m hoping for, Thorne. I’ve never understood your movements at all, and I don’t plan to be in that position on this trip, snapped Major McCall aggressively.

The Staked Plains, began Rex, lies dead ahead. Off to the south of where we’ll be riding is the Palo Duro Canyon. Look southwest, Major! You really can’t see the canyon from here, but that area where the blue-looking haze is hanging just above the ground I figger marks the north boundary of the canyon. There’s a sheer drop of several hundred feet in places, a good thousand feet all along the northwest end of it. Well, that canyon country is all breaks, and the chances of catching Indians down there is sure slim. There’s plateaus and ridges across the canyon as high or nearly as high as we are right here. An Indian scout on top of one of those lookouts can see everything for miles in all directions. There’s one called the lighthouse where you can see all the surrounding country down there, described the scout.

I hope this bunch doesn’t go down in there, offered the Major.

That’s part of just striking out on their trail, following them and hunting for them. I don’t believe we have to worry about them leaving this high flat plain. That’s Comanche country down there in those breaks. Ol’ Chief Black Horse rules it like an eagle watches his lair. This bunch of Apache’s is sure not liable to ride into a Comanche stronghold. The Apache’s and Comanche’s don’t get along.

So, you think the Apache’s will stay away from the canyon, replied the enlightened Major.

Exactly, and that’ll make our job a lot easier because we can figger they will stay up here, but it could still be a tough nut to crack.

How so? queried McCall.

Okay Major, as we’re riding west along here, the country’s changing a little bit and it’s big. Real big. Have you noticed it?

Yes. Now that you mention it, I’ve noticed a change, but it’s been so gradual I haven’t paid much attention to it, responded the soldier.

Look straight west, Major. Rex pointed straight ahead. You’ll see that we’re riding along a gradual incline. Up ahead when we get on top the land will appear to flatten out. I’ll be danged, but from here it looks like the world ends right up there.

Yes, Thorne. I see what you mean. It does look like the horizon ends up ahead, agreed the Major.

Sir, when we get on top of that plain, that horizon will extend for hundreds of miles out in front of us, as far as you can see. This change in the countryside along here has a lot to do with the kind of vegetation the country supports. The grass is the same color, but it’s getting shorter, and the landscape up there will be a lot flatter, described Rex.

Does that have something to do with how we’ll be able to follow the Indians? asked the Major, beginning to catch some meaning in this line of talk.

You bet! That’s a big part of why one method is better than the other. Hunting or tracking. The grass on the Staked Plains is short and it grows in a mat on the ground. Awful rough to track unshod ponies across that country, sir. Very slow work. The Indians could go ten miles why we work out the tracks of one mile that they traveled.

Umm. Thorne, I believe you’re finally going to tell me how we will be able to follow them. Am I right?

Rex grinned an affirmative. We pinpoint the direction the Indians take. You see, Indians like to travel like the crow flies. Straight as an arrow from one point to the next. Not news to you I know because it’s common knowledge. The trick is to know what point or landmark he’s using to travel by. Not a lot of landmarks up there. Once you figger that, you can follow at whatever speed your horses can stand. Hunting Indians in this fashion depends on how much horse you’re forking, Rex informed his superior. A lot faster than tracking. A whole lot faster.

This troop is very well mounted, Thorne.

Sure, but those Indian mustangs run from dawn to dark most every day, cautioned Rex. If one plays out, most likely the Indians will eat him soon. Only the best ponies are used on these hunting trips, sir. So, we just can’t plan on our horses outlasting theirs. We gotta outrun them, or we don’t catch them. It’s as simple as that.

This following or hunting, as you call it, would make for an exciting trip. The lure of the chase is tempting me to accept your proposal," mumbled the leader, almost to himself, as he thought over the facts that were now plain to him.

Jim’s stopped, sir. That means that little band of Indians has regrouped, and we can follow to see which way they are headed. It’s your choice. Rex dumped the decision directly in the Major’s lap as they approached the spot where Jim was waiting.

Tabor, what do you know about this stunt that Thorne wants to use so we can ride out to hunt the Indians? asked the Major when they came up to Jim’s position.

Sir, Rex is the only man I know that can follow Indians like that. It’s so flat up here it’s hard to keep going the same way without having a landmark. He can handle it because he knows this country.

He’s never followed Indians like this for me before, shot back the officer.

Up here it’s flat, explained Jim. Rex ain’t worried about them setting up no ambush. In rough country he’d rather track so he can read sign. He can read an Indian’s mind by the tracks he leaves, but here there’s no place to hide and hardly any tracks to find. Sir, I think you’re awful lucky to have him, and I say turn him loose and ride.

One last question, Tabor. I believe that Thorne wants to catch these Indians. Is he riled because they jumped you yesterday?

Rex quickly interrupted. I can answer that for myself, sir. Jim and I think that this is a bunch of young Apache bucks looking to hang up some scalps. White folks scalps. I say catch ‘um before they get the chance.

Okay, Thorne. Do it your way, accepted the leader.

All right, sir. We’ll follow these tracks to make sure which way they are going. Once we have that direction set then we can cut loose and ride after them, asserted Rex.

Right Thorne. Hunt them down, ordered the Major.

After following the tracks for nearly a mile, they could tell the Indians were traveling in a straight line. Let’s ride; we’re wasting time!" Rex spoke over his shoulder as he kept his horse moving along the line indicated by the tracks.

The pace Thorne set was a good gallop and just what Jim had predicted, but the well-trained cavalry unit rode together in close formation. They did not fall behind or scatter like so many groups did when riding at a fast gallop. As they ranged farther out, they were forced to alter the speed that they traveled to accommodate the endurance of the horses.

Although the troop rode as one unit, it was Rex’s own sharp eye that spotted smoke to the southwest after they had been traveling for most of the morning. He immediately reined his steed slightly to the left and motioned for the Major to come closer.

Smoke, pointed Rex. Too much for it to be a campfire. Probably some burning wagons where some travelers have been jumped by that band of Indians. I say spread out and ride.

Fitting action to those words, Rex spurred his horse ahead, leaving the column to fan out behind.

Pulling his rifle from the saddle boot, Rex checked the action and jacked a shell into the chamber, then slowly let the hammer down to safety.

The sudden appearance of a rifle brought lusty yells from behind. This cavalry unit liked to fight, and they now could smell action dead ahead. Glancing back, Rex saw other rifles popping into view. The unit was well mounted, and Rex could tell he would not be the first onto the scene ahead. Already, several men were overhauling his lead because he held his mount in just a little in case he needed to run later on in pursuit of the Indians.

Suddenly, Rex heard shots carrying across the plains from the fight ahead. This gave Rex an idea. Hoping to scare the Indians into flight by the sound of his own gunfire, he raised his rifle and fired two quick shots into the air. He knew the sooner the Indians took flight, the sooner any survivors would be out of danger. He also would rather not fight Indians when they were in thick cover. He hoped to flush them out of the area and chase them as they fled on their ponies.

A quick survey of the scene ahead revealed a lone wagon standing in the bend of a creek and a few other wagons farther behind were smoldering because they had been set on fire by the Indians. One wagon looked like it was still in the water. Trees fairly lined the creek banks below the leading wagon’s position. In cover like this, Rex knew the Indians would have an advantage in a pitched battle, especially a long, bloody fight where position was vital. An Apache can glide from clump to tree without being seen.

It’s hard to kill Indians when you can’t see them, thought Rex as the sound of his shots rifled across the distance. Scarcely had the spang of his last shot died when the half-naked Indians stampeded on their horses up the opposite bank as they took flight. Now it would be a running fight with the odds in favor of the pursuer because they could shoot straight ahead while the Indians would have to twist around and fire behind. Firing from a running horse was difficult, at best, without the added handicap.

As Rex topped the far creek bank, he heard a horse thundering along on his heels. Glancing back, he saw the Major motioning to him. He could not hear his shouts because his words were being whipped from his mouth by the rushing wind caused by the headlong flight of their mounts. Rex doubted that he could have heard anyway above the thunder that came from the feet of so many running horses.

Slowing his horse to allow the Major a chance to pull alongside, Rex soon had the battle plan relayed to him.

We’ll keep them running straight. I need you to swing to the left. We’ll bring up the rear. I’ve already posted some men on the right flank, ordered the commander.

Nodding his agreement, Rex urged his horse into a flat out run and swung more to the left side of the fleeing Indians who were well within range of the rifles carried by the cavalry. In fact, rifles were booming their deadly power all along the line of well-spaced troops. Rex and the soldiers were catching up to the Indians quickly. The cavalry had been coming on the run and they run right up on the escaping Indians. As Rex horse stretched out in an all out run he began to forge ahead of some of the soldiers and he began to catch up with the Indians.

An Indian pony stumbled in front of Rex and rolled head over heels with his rider, who suddenly leaped up just to the left of the path of Rex’s onrushing horse. Brandishing a tomahawk, the brave began running on a course that would intercept Rex. Immediately Rex saw the purpose of this bold move. A well-timed jump and Rex’s scalp and his horse would soon belong to the young warrior.

Rex tried to turn his horse across the path of the Indian, so he could get a shot with the rifle he carried in his right hand, but it was to no avail. The horse was on a dead run and would not be turned.

As the Indian sprang on a perfectly timed jump, Rex realized his mistake. Dropping the reins and instinctively swinging the rifle with both hands just as the poised tomahawk began its descent, Rex felt the rifle barrel crunch on bone. The thwarted attacker completely