Home To Texas, Recollections of a Texas Badman - Part 2

anyone who wants to fight me all the time
thats what the utes called the Comanche. thats how they got their name

He sold the Chief that fire-water
Way-aye, you rolling river
And 'cross the river he stole his daughter
A way - we're bound away
'cross the wide Missouri!

it was a Comanche girl that got me into all my troubles. there could be nothin finer then bein a Ranger, and fightin the Comanche. the Comanche could fight, just like the goddammed yankees couldnt. I got shot three times with bullets, onct with a arrow, and stabbed with a knife twice in the four years I Rangered. I had only got shot twice in the War of Secession. I had to give up Rangerin for good after I seen Heart-Catcher. nobody could ever trust me after that, and I cant fault them for that.

By Internet Archive Book Images [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons

we had been chasin some Honey Eaters onto the Comacheria, when we run across a bunch from one of the Liver Eater bands. their old pahio had just married a young girl of sixteen, and she was just the prettiest thing I ever did see, prettier then maria, or the smiles of mexican girls, or calvary yella on rebel grey, or sabers or pistols, or The Grey, or of sunsets, or flowers, or of the art works of the world. she stolt my heart right there and then. the problem that we both had was that she looked at me like I looked at her, sittin in her husbands camp, with my Captain, and the old Comanche givin me dirtier and dirtier looks by the minute. if she hadnt a looked at me like that, I woulda reveled in the killin and the fightin and the drinkin and whorin for the rest of my life, and I woulda put her beauty away in the back of my heart, and lived and died much happier,in the honor of Rangerin for Texas. but she did, and I was resolved Heart-Catcher would be mine on the night.

the Captain thought he would punish me for disgracin the old mans hospitality by makin me stand watch. hahaha. I rode outa camp blastin my pistols in the air so as to wake up our camp. I took my saber to hand, and rode into the Comanche camp like the terrible swift sword of Jehovah. I cut down the old man chief as Heart-Catcher reached up to me. a young buck or two tried to outride me as I sat her on my saddle, and they went down with my bullets wrath for interferin with my hearts desire. I was a fool, but I was a fool with quick pistols, and a bloody sword. my horse was the best outa my troops group, and equal to the Comanche horses, sos we made good time outa there. dont know for sure, but I think the Comanche mounted up against the Rangers in vengeance, instead of chasin us down, cuase of I never saw no pursuit, but heard a lot of gunfire from the area of the Rangers camp that night.

onct we got away, we fell to the ground, and I took her the hardest I ever rode a woman, and she pulled me into her, and bit me, and moaned like no other woman Id had ever before. we had hardly got done, when we looked each other in the dark, and pulled each other back down for another battle as fierce as the first. I didnt even know her name yet. I didnt speak a whole lot of Comanche at that time, bein more fit for the calvary charge, and the close up battle then for the scoutin, and far more suited to shootin Comanche then parleyin with em.

I dont think either of us was expectin the savage power of the heart. she had left with me as I slaughtered her husband, who was a chief of her people. I had betrayed my own company, and the honor of my guns. I was used to the easy smiles of mex girls, and the easier and faster transactions of the whorehouses, of a quick wink and nod to a dark corner. she told me her name was due to her beauty, from the time she was just a babe, and that people of her tribe were proud of her demeanor and comportment, that it was an honor for both her family and for the pahio for her to move into his teepee. but we were lost in the wonder of our eyes, and the way we became one while wrapped round one nother, and niether of us knew the loss we had caused ourselves with my ride into that camp.

prior to this, I was happy in the wars. every Comanche that fell before my weapons was a gift from Jehovah. ridin into battle with them was a heart stirrin feelin. out of the greatest things in the world, bein on top of a woman was best, with battle bein second, a damn good meal of juicy steak next, and drinkin last of the good things of the world. killin Comanche was bettern killin goddammed yankees, cuase of the poor ways that the goddammed yankes fought. the Comanche made you pull out every bein of strategy and war that was part of you. when you didnt do that, you died. a lot of Rangers died cause they wouldnt fight with the spirit of the Comanche. one of the worst things bout my Rangerin days was the parleyin. we wasnt always tryin to kill em, which was a dumb thing, cause of the way the Comanche were. I would have to sit my horse whils the captains would babble on with the chiefs. I would usually fix the meanest lookin warrior with my eyes, and promise him a dance or two with my sword, or pistols after the parley. that kept those goddammed meetins interestin.

George Catlin [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

sometimes the carbetbagger government of Texas would want to talk treaty with one damn band of em or another, or the kiowa, or some of the other raidin tribes. sometimes it was the goddammed yankee goverment. there was a bunch of pasty lookin quakers, which I call the quitters, that would get in the way of killin Comanche if you chased them onto the res. I shot one quitter who interfered when we caught a band up past the red. I didnt kill the sonofabith, cause of another Ranger smacked my hand down. got him in the leg though. that was about a year before my dishonor. these carpetbaggers and holyrollers didnt understand that Comanche and Texan could not exist with each other even though both were warriors, and not weak souled yellow dogs who hid their filthy cowardly characters behind bibles and goverment regulations.

I remember my favorite day of those battles, this one was fought on horseback, whils usually we would dismount and sneak around lookin for Comanche before they snuck round and found us. a tough lookin bastard and me caught sight of each other, and we charged our horses at each other. he had his lance comin for me, and I had my saber for him. as we closed, I chopped his lance out of his hands, and he launched himself off his horse and onto me, and he had his knife out, and cut me longside my hip and belly. this was one of the knifins I took as a Ranger. we was both on my horse, and I was barely hangin onto the horse with my legs. I banged him in the face with the hilt of my saber, and he dropped the knife, but he got hold of my neck and started a good choke on it. I had the saber tween us, but couldnt get a good cut on him, cause of us bein so damn close. so I leaned up and bit his nose most of the way off, and bucked the horse at the same time. he fell off, and almost took me with him. I spect if I hadnt a surpised him by bitin his nose off, he woulda dragged me off too. by the time i whipped the horse round, he was ready to go again. I could see he was ready to go under my horse if I came at him. I just pulled out my Le Mat and hit him with the shotgun round. by damn, those Comanche could fight. I was lucky, cuase a I didnt pass out like I did the other time I got stabbed.

I knew probably the only way me and Heat-Catcher could settle down was with one of them other Comanche tribes. there was a bunch of Buffalo Eaters that was pretty much worn out by then, and lived out on the sill res, cause of I didnt want to shoot at Rangers after desertin from em. I had to cut down a coupla of the louder warriors who objected at first, and shoot another coupla sneaky ones that tried to git us to leave, by way of attackin us at night. after that I only had to give one of the sqaws a bare ass spanking in the middle of the village, after she had cussed Heart-Catcher in full view of all. I just returned the favor for her is all. I had already cowed her husband previous, so we never heard anymore about it. the tribe did good to keep me around. the goddammed yankee army was startin to take over the indian wars from the Rangers at this time. I didnt mind ridin warparty after them neither. they was either goddammed yankees, or southern boys who had taken up the traitors blues. and I was already a goddammed outlaw, I guess. I never understood how I could hate the goddammed yankees moern I did the Comanche

I was happiest my whole life in that next coupla years. so much I lost complete track of time. Heart-Catcher and me didnt realize how much of a scandal we was to that village. we was just happy to be in each other. I had her learn me a bunch of Comanche, especially the words for how we touched, and I would walk round the village saying the words sos I could say em back right onct I got back to her at night. I was on five or six warparties, but I left two of them after I seen the Rangers was with the army. the other ones I got to kill goddammed yankees, so that was good. I got to ride on another warparty against the Kiowa, but that war didnt last long.

then Heart-Catcher died of consumption or some cold, godammit. we hadnt had no brats, and I had no more reason to be out amongst the Comanche, so I drifted back to the ranch. not only was I a renegade, but my heart was all burnt ashes.

thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck.

From Wikimedia Commons, the free media repository
By George Catlin

John Stevens:
The Comanche name come from the Utes. Means just what Wallace started this chapter with. I’m surprised he learned that much. He only learned Spanish so he could get looks at my wife.
The Comanche were a warrior people, and an honorable people by their own rules, but there was no way Texas could have ever existed with a free Comanche nation with the range of a horse raid.
The rangers were unorganised at this point after the War. In 1863, the organised Rangers were mustered into the CSA. A few men rode circuits on the frontier, and the border, but most Rangerin companies were formed by locals chasing Indian or Mexican raiding parties. These men were often called Minutemen, and my brother was one who joined as many of these companies as he could.
Texas had a State Police force, made of of freed Negroes, but there was a lot of trouble, both in black and white hatreds and in the corruption that came with Reconstruction.
The Federal policy with Indians, the “Indian Peace Policy”, ran by Quakers, was the dumbest thing in the history of dumb things. The Indians ran circles around the gullible Quakers, and many Texans' murderers ran back to security of the reservations under the protection of the Quakers.
First, the Ute language, and then quotes from the Song of Solomon. Wallace will surprise you again and again.