Ralph Compton Comanche Trail by Carlton Stowers

to recite, no prayer or proper words to say. Instead he silently went about filling in the grave, anxious to have the task done and be on his way.
    He was halfway back to the wagon before he stopped,turned, and slowly returned to the fresh mound of dirt that rose where vegetables had once been grown. “I promise to see to your son as best I can,” he said.
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    As he rode into Thayer, he was surprised to find Marshal Thorntree sitting in his chair outside the jail, a large chaw protruding from the side of his mouth. “I see you’ve brung Tater’s wagon back,” he said, “thus making me into an unholy liar. Told him he wasn’t likely to ever see it or you again.”
    Taylor climbed down and rested one foot against the boardwalk. “Didn’t figure on interrupting your rest, Marshal. I must say I’m a bit taken aback that you ain’t out on the trail.”
    â€œI was. We just come back last evening. Seems our work got done for us.”
    The marshal and his posse had wasted little time beginning their pursuit of the Bender clan. “We’d gathered provisions for a long ride,” he said, “but we wasn’t but a day and a half out before we caught up to ’em. We rode up on the Fall River down south and seen their horseless wagon stuck up to the axles out in the middle of the water. They had to be plumb crazy to try to ford when it was on such a rise from the recent rains.
    â€œThat’s where they met their due.”
    â€œYou saying they drowned?”
    The marshal shook his head. “That would have been too kind an ending to their story. They were attacked and killed by a party of renegade Indians.”
    The posse had found John Bender and his son lying side by side on the riverbank, both scalped, skin peeled from their naked bodies. A dozen arrows had been shot into each one. “Theyalso had their arms cut off,” Thorntree added. “The old lady, we found her floating in a shallow downstream, gutted like a boar hog, her eyes poked out.” The marshal turned and spat off the porch. “Given their murdering history, I’d say they got a more proper justice than we could have provided.”
    Taylor pondered the surprising turn of events. “And the daughter?”
    â€œThe pretty one you spoke of? She wasn’t among the dead. Probably got herself taken away to a life of grinding corn, scraping hides, and pleasuring young savages. I don’t relish thinking what’s to become of her. At any rate, what’s done is done. I reckon we can now set the matter to rest and go back to tending to more ordinary business.”
    â€œI ain’t so sure.” Taylor began to tell the marshal about the raid on the Barstow cabin. He ended his story with young Jakey’s description of the woman he’d seen. “From what he says, it didn’t appear she was no Indian and wasn’t likely being held hostage.”
    â€œAnd you’re figuring this was the other Bender woman?”
    Taylor nodded. “Kate Two, she said her name was. Spiritualist with a talent for talking to the dead.”
    â€œEven the spirits of Indians who have passed on to their happy huntin’ ground, you reckon?”
    â€œI’m guessing that’s the very thing she wants them believing.”
    The two men fell silent.
    â€œI suppose we’ve all been reminded of a lesson we might should be taking to heart,” the marshal finally said. “It’s for certain you’ve had enough misery of late. This here’s still hard country, despite all the government’s promise. Too many scalawags and outlaw types coming this way to takeadvantage of honest folks by stealing and killing. You seen that firsthand with what happened to your pa.” He turned and spat again. “And what we seen down by the river got me to thinking that it makes no matter what they offer the Indians