Chronicles Of The Maca Collection

Chapter 20

The men and horses were moving as silently as possible through the night"s fading moonlight and starlight. They were following their Captain and a huge form on an oversized black horse. Grey light had begun to peak over the far away hills when the signal came to halt. The sergeants rode forward, received their orders, and rode back to deliver the command to spread out. No smoking, talking, spitting, or hacking until after the attack.

They formed a huge arc. Those that were looking forward saw the scout point out the direction to the Captain and then he moved to the far side of the attackers. The scout was allowed to join in the attack, but he was not part of the 2nd Dragoons. His risks were his own and he was to note if any large segment of the Comanche men or horses escaped, the direction they went, and report to the Captain immediately.

The arc surged forward. MacDonald, the scout, was kicking his heels into his horse to chase a man fleeing back to the village. The Captain waved and the bugler raised his horn. As one the men unloosened their revolvers and they surged forward at the sound of the bugle. Dust rose in the air and men began crawling out of the teepees as the horsemen poured into the village firing their dragoons. They fired six shots per man, holstered their revolvers, and pulled out their swords. By now the dust was rising from the ground, dogs were barking and yelping, teepees were being pulled over, and women and children were screaming, crying, and running as they looked for a place to hide from the Dragoons circling the area.

One tall, white-haired woman clad in a mended deerskin dress was shoving other women and children out of her way as she tried to head for the hills to the north. MacDonald rushed his horse into the trooper riding towards her.

“Nay, she tis too tall.” He yelled at the Dragoon chasing her. “She must be white.” He pushed his animal closer and his long arm shot out to pull the woman up.

“Ye twill be killed if ye run with yere back to the soldiers. They canna tell that ye are white.” He was yelling to be heard over the noise and confusion.

Fists beat at the air and the woman tried to turn and fight him. Her feet were kicking at his horse. MacDonald galloped back to the wagon and swung down, the woman still held tight against his side. As soon as he dismounted, he released her and her angry, ice-cold grey eyes were glaring at him. Tiny white curls surrounded her face and fought to be loose from the braids. Her lips were white with fury.

“Mein Daniel, mein sohn.” Her teeth clenched together and she balled her hands into fists, and she turned to run back.

He grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Dear Gar, are ye Anna Lawrence?” He began speaking in German. “Are you Kasper Schmidt"s sibling? Do you mean one of your sons is alive and up there?”

For a moment she drew in her breath, swallowed, closed her eyes, and snapped them open. “Ja, I must go to him.” Desperation and hardness filled her eyes, and she started to kick.

He picked her up by the waist while her arms and legs flailed the air. He lowered the back gate of the wagon and smacked her down on the hard wood. “You will stay here. I shall go see if there is anyone up there, but I doubt it. They are not shooting arrows at the troopers. How many are in his group and how tall is he now?”

She swallowed and shook her head. “Two, three others I, I, am not sure.” The two years of not speaking German or English were dragging at her tongue and Anna felt a rising frustration. She wanted to speak clearly, but in her panic the words jumbled in her mind. The tribe had given her youngest, Auggie, to another group and Daniel to a family in this one. She could not lose her one remaining child.

“He"s ten, but tall. Go, go. Do not let them take him.” She continued to use German even if this man"s speech was badly accented.

“Will you stay here? If you go out there someone is apt to think you are Comanche and kill you. Promise me you will stay.”

Anna tightened her lips. How to fight this man? She knew she had lost weight and strength, and he was so strong; so rock hard.

MacDonald looked up at the driver. “This tis Mrs. Lawrence. She has relatives at Schmidt"s Corner. Dinna let her go.”

He swung back up on his horse and rode off. Anna was left blinking in the soft morning sunlight. Relatives? That word she understood. Here? Where? In Texas? Was she still in Texas? Where was Schmidt"s Corner?

Confusion and dust filled her senses and mind. Auggie she felt was dead, but Daniel she knew was alive just a few minutes ago. In her innermost being, she knew that somewhere Margareatha and Lorenz were alive. Was God giving her this chance to get them back?

The yells grew dimmer, but women and children were still screaming. A contingent of troopers was herding another woman and two children back towards the wagon. Anna recognized the woman as the wife of one of the main hunters. That one had been with the group for seven years and had gone completely primitive in Anna"s mind. Anna had starved and endured torture rather than succumb to the Comanche or bear children that might die tomorrow. They had let her live because they were not certain of her sanity. She was as strong as a man when it came to certain chores and they set her at them while withholding food. No sane person willingly refused food when starving.

The dust cleared enough that Anna realized the few Comanche women left were being stripped and r***d before being killed. Their screams were muted and hoarse. She turned away, sick at heart. These men were no better than the savages that had captured her.

Anna hated the savagery of the world that had taken her children. She had prayed for God to help her to forgive, to take the hate out of her heart, but every child"s cry made her see an image of her children and her heart wept for them and the red rage inside would begin again.