Trail of the Dawn Walker

A new novella for my readers written this time from a man’s perspective. The story is mostly in the post-civil war era of Texas, events of the past. The script for the future has undoubtedly been written, but the future hasn’t happened for us yet, we have only the past. We will never live the future until it becomes the present and understanding the past will help us to unlock what that future holds. One day we will experience eternity, and like standing on a road well traveled we will look both ways and understand. In eternity there is no distinction of past, present, and future……they are all the same

The sun was foraging on the last remnants of moisture as heat waves from Hell crashed on the shoreline of my soul. I thought. If I die out here all they will find are bleached bones and tattered remnants of my tack and saddle. I left home over five years ago just before dawn chasin’ the unknown, that big belt in the blue, the last horizon accompanied by no one, known only to God. But assuredly I was not really alone. I was atop of my best friend, my horse Rigel. Named after the brightest star in the constellation of Orion, a mustang taken from the wild freedom of the outback. He was tall at 17 hands, very dark but not black, with white stockings and a white star on his forehead. He was indeed a fine piece of horse flesh. But it was what was in his heart that mattered most. He had that rare combination of strength, stamina, speed and loyalty. He was my choice out of the entire remuda, a one-man horse. If anyone tried to mount him without my consent they would be trapezin’ through the air and eatin’ dirt long before their cheeks ever set the saddle. A man is of little value out here without a horse, his chance of stayin’ in the buggy about as good as a grasshopper in a hen house. Many a time Rigels sense and intuition alerted me, savin’ my bacon especially when my mind was addled and not fully alert. We were inseparable, always takin’ good care of each other.

I was ridin’ in the vast Texas plains somewhere between the Brazos and the Colorado on my way to Santa Fe. There I hoped to find El Diablo and the black hearts he had gathered to himself, leavin’ in their path shattered lives and wanton destruction. Seems the best and worst thing in this world are the people in it. I’ve learned to play my cards close to my vest and to shut up and listen. Most often I find out what I need to know. My life depends on it. I am a bounty hunter, the best. Fearless with a fearful reputation. And along the way I was sworn in as a U.S. Marshall with jurisdiction over all local badge toters and incontestable authority anywhere I went. I was appointed by the governor of Texas himself with special privileges. He sent for me after I had single handedly rescued his daughter from a horrible fate at the hands of sum murderin’ Comancheros headed with her to Mexico. I was still my own man, with freedom to go if and where I pleased answering only to him, responding to unique situations at his request. I hunted only the worst of the worst, the thieven’, rapin’, murderin’ scum that needed to be put down permanently before they harmed more innocent souls. They committed unconsciousable acts of violence without remorse, without regret, even reveling in their sadistic delights. Unlike most law dogs I felt no obligation to warn these vile perpetrators of my presence giving them a chance to shoot first and possibly kill me. Seems mighty stupid. And if they attempted to flee, I felt no regret in shootin’ them in the back if given no other choice. Wanted dead or alive, the world is a better place without them.

On this September day in 1873 I was ridin’ to the crest of a hill when Rigel first alerted me smellin’ smoke. I grabbed my field glasses, ratcheted a round in my Winchester, felt for my colt ready at my hip and lowering myself I climbed to the top of the hill. Below, flames licked the smoldering remains of five encircled wagons, with arrow riddled bodies scattered on the ground like debris from a Saturday night hoedown. Men, women, children….no distinction. The only commonality…all dead. Life taken so suddenly, so carelessly and without cause, all their hopes and dreams dyin’ with them. What is life, I pondered. It is so fragile, taken from us so easily. A snake bite, a fever, a arrow, a crossing of the river. It seems our whole time wakin’ is spent tryin’ to stay alive and avoid dyin’. How can we ever really live life if we are always livin’ in fear of losin’ it. Seems evil is always lurking. Badmen, Redmen, sickness and disease, beasts that bite and devour, starvation and thirst. It appears the earth was created for death not life, but then again, I reckon it’s a toss-up. When you die just try to make sure you first learned how to live.

Now the Indian says we are trespassing on his land out of the one side of his mouth. while he purports a higher wisdom out of the other side of his mouth, now a conquered foe, saying ‘How can you say you own the land any more than you can say you own the sky’. Fits when you see the white man encroaching on YOUR property, and you decide to enforce your own rule of law. But not unlike the white man’s theology, a religion of convenience, useful for a purpose then discarded when not needed, the bishops’ indiscretions forgiven whether with the local ladies, conquests from the choir, or widows in their time of need, his generous contributions covering a multitude of sins. Religion always extracts its followers, those easily manipulated, controlled and benefited. The Indian it is said is a notional creature. I know. I was raised Apache. I watched the scene before me. Fools rush in. The living wait….patiently.

Slowly I approached the burnin’ and the slaughter. Then a movement in the periphery caught my eye. I bent low and began to search in an arc, slowly closin’ on the target site. Drawing nearer from behind I saw you. Stealthily approachin’ in my moccasins and only a few feet away I said, ‘Miss’, tryin’ not to frighten you. You jumped up screamin’ and started to run. Catching you I held on tight while you fought with all your might. I spoke soothingly, reassuring you that I meant you no harm. ’I am your friend’ I said, ‘I am here to help’. Then slowly I turned you so you could see my face and with vacant eyes you collapsed in my arms. Carrying you away from the burnt wreckages and dead bodies I built a fire and put on some coffee, the aroma of which helped you to wake. Slowly you sat up and took the cup of coffee I handed you. ‘Are they all dead'?’ you asked. Lookin’ straight into your dilated eyes full of shock and horror, I sighed and whispered ‘yes’. You sat motionless, sipped your coffee, and then begin to rock, tears now flowing unconsolably, your anguish tearing you apart. Sitting quietly across from you I felt the weight of your sorrow. Finally, you laid on your side and began to sleep.

Next mornin’ I fixed breakfast and coffee. As you woke and removed the blankets from the bed I had made for you, you carefully made your way into the trees to take care of your personals. Returning I offered you a plate of food and a hot cup of Joe. I was surely pleased that you accepted them, though you could only nibble at the food. ‘I am Walker Dunne’ I said and told you briefly how it was I came upon your plight. You introduced yourself as Madeline McBride, known as Maddy. You told me you had gotten up at the first sign of light and walked to the river to take care of your personals and to clean yourself. Shortly after you heard screams and smelt smoke. Gathering yourself you began to run to the wagons, only to stop abruptly realizin’ the killin’ was already over and so you turned back to the river and waded in. Ignoring the cold you floated down stream until you found a tangle of partially submerged trees on the opposite bank and gatherin’ some horsetail with a hollow center you got inside the tangle and watched until you had to go under breathin’ air through the hollows until it was safe to come to the surface again. You then made your way back and was hidin’ in the bushes when I scared the hog swill out of you. I beamed thinkin’ you were amazin’, saltier than Lot’s wife. ‘You walked right by them on your way to the river’ I said. ‘They didn’t grab you then in case you was able to get a scream out and warn the camp. They were planning on retrieven’ you afterwards, a prize in some young braves wickiup’.

A shiver went through your body and then you asked ‘What are we going to do?’ ‘I’m sorry’, I said, ‘we can’t bury the bodies. They will know that someone was here and that you possibly survived the river. I will check for anything useful that may remain after the fire and then we will walk Rigel a quarter mile down the river before we get out, cover our tracks, and head for some high ground. They will be back soon. We need to go’.

Carefully we made our way into the open, away from the river and trees, exposed, with little protection. All of my instincts as well as Rigel’s were on high alert. I did some glassin’, patiently waiting before we set off. We were in the Hill Country west of Waco and Austin that provided some opportunity for cover. We rode through the day noticin’ some trail dust on a couple of occasions and happy not to encounter anyone. We found shelter on a small mountain with a panoramic view of the plains below with a little grass and a trickle of water for Rigel. He sure liked his phillies and much to my surprise, Maddy too. After dinner we talked. It seemed to soothe your hurtin’. ‘Slowly’ I said, ‘we work our way back from life’s tragedies. For reasons known only to God, you alone survived. Life is a short sojourn, and we’ve been given a strong instinct to survive. You can’t change the past, but you can sure affect the future. Make the best of livin’ before dyin’ comes to call, courtin’ life like a wife not to be denied’.

At night around a small fire and a cup of brew we shared. You grew up on a small ranch outside of North Platte Nebraska the youngest of three girls. ‘I gladly was the boy in the family’ you said. ‘I wanted to be outside all the time and I seemed fit for it. Full of grit and determination, no mother’s son was going to best me. Pa taught me how to shoot, ride and rope, saying ‘hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard’. I could wrangle with the best of them, and Pa never held me back, grinnin’ and findin’ a lot of pride in me. Everone knew you didn’t brace Maddy Sue. As I grew older the female in me came a tuggin’ demanding its way, but I was not about to have a lay in the hay with some jackeroo, him braggin’ to his buddies after church about his latest conquest. I know what I want in a man, and I’ll not settle for less. I’m 23 and have had to endure gossip, whispers, and unwanted advances. My heart will not betray me. Someday that man will walk into my life and nuthin’ will ever be the same’. I stared into your eyes and then looked away. All my life I’ve been searchin’ for somethin’ I could not describe. But I knew, once found, I would not be goin’ down the trail anymore, my heart finally findin’ its home.

‘Early the next mornin’ I was up to greet the dawn, cradlin’ a hot cup of Arbuckle’s. It was my special time of quiet and communion. I peered into the mornin’ mist and then reached for my glasses. At about 400 yards ten Indians sat their ponies abreast stoically watchin’, eyes riveted on our camp. Quietly I woke you. ‘We’ve got company.’ I grabbed the Winchester and Sharps, blue lightnin’ already on my hip, and my double barrel Remington for close work. Making sure the guns were fully loaded, I laid out additional ammunition by my side. ‘Shootin’ at tin cans and shootin’ at a man are quite a different thing’ I told you. Lookin’ at me with eyes fierce, filled with anger and hate, you said ‘those bastards just slaughtered my family and friends simply because we were passin’ through. We took nuthin’ and we left nuthin’. ‘Why’? ‘It’s not my first rodeo’ you continued ‘and I’m not fresh off the farm. No more tears. It’s time to avenge. What’s our plan’? ‘Well, alright' I said. You stay down until I tell you to pop up and start shootin’ at about 200yds’. This gal I thought, is one to ride the river with, better than ok. ‘They are in for a big surprise’, I spoke. ‘At 400 yds I’ll pick them off like fleas on an old cur dog’.

Cradlin’ the Sharps in a natural ‘V’ in the rock, I said ‘enough conversatin’, it’s time to get this rodeo started’ and I fired. A puff of smoke, a big bang, and a body on the ground. Again, with the same results. Now they began to charge, splitting up and making harder targets. I aimed for the nearest rider. Now only seven and ‘Maddy, it’s time’. You arose and began chucking lead. The results were amazin’. With Annie Oakley by my side and my baby cannon we ventilated all but two. Gesturing for peace, the remaining warriors collected their dead and road away. It was over. You looked at me and sighed, ‘redemption is sweet, but why?’ ‘Not much different than Napolean and Wellington’ I said. ‘All those pitched battles in Europe and America, and just recently Gettysburg that severed the South at its knees. How can any sane man send their soldiers into a suicidal charge, and how can any sane soldier do it’? Such a waste of good men-husbands, fathers, brothers, sons, and lovers’.

After breakfast we broke camp, headed North and cut fresh sign for Abilene. That night after dinner you said ‘Walker, it’s your turn to tell. I reckon you know everything about me except my dress size, and by your looks I think you’ve figured (pun intended) that out’. I chuckled. ‘Maddy you are easy on the eyes and possibly the most remarkable woman I’ve ever known. And yes, I think I’ve got your dress size figured out. About a fourteen, maybe a sixteen I think’, ducking low to avoid the plate you just sent throwin’. Pourin’ sum hot java we settled in and I said, ‘do you want the condensed version or the whole shebang. It might take a while’. ‘All I’ve got is time’ you said.

‘My life was lived in segments’ I said. ‘The first was until the age of five. I got up early one mornin’ and went to feed the chickens and collect the eggs, singin’ a simple song. The chicken coop was attached to the back of the barn and when I rounded it returnin’ to the house, I saw Indians and my Ma and Pa on the ground. Pa never even got a shot off layin’ face first in the dirt. Ma had come runnin’ out and never made it off the porch. Tryin’ to make sense at what I was seein’ as a small five year old anger rose up within me and I charged, chuckin’ fresh eggs and screamin’ every bad word I knew. When I reached the leader, I started pummeling him with my fists. He laughed and knocked me to the ground saying, ‘He is ‘tekwaniwapi’, a brave warrior. He will not die’. The Comanche then traded me to the Lipan Apache. Their chief Huero Mundo’s young son had recently died. The chief’s wife was inconsolable, but when she saw me there was an immediate bond. She needed a son I needed a mother.

In this second segment of my life for over ten years, I was Apache. I learned to hear like a dog, see like an eagle, run like an antelope, work like the ant, and to be strong like a bear. The owl taught me wisdom and patience, the mantis how to blend, and the serpent how to move with stealth and silence. I would spend hours observing animals and insects, adopting their characteristics. I learned to find food in the forest, grubs in the plains, and water in the desert when others would die. I learned to be perfectly still without food and water in any element for days. Though I was a runt when first taken, at sixteen I was over 6’ tall, muscular, bronze, and blond. They taught me how to hunt and fight, use a knife, throw a spear and tomahawk, and use a bow accurately while ridin’ bareback full speed on a horse. Though I was white, I was the chief’s son and not subject outwardly to their natural hostility. I earned respect by my diligence in every task and by the honor I gave to my new parents and the Apache way. Because of my prowess none of the young braves would contest me.

Unique to my situation was my white teenage teacher Jenny, a captive of a couple of years. With the chief’s permission she schooled me in my three R’s, English (which she insisted we speak), history and even some of the classics. She had books! We read from the scriptures, and she helped instill in me my Christian faith while honoring the Great Spirit of the Apache, their culture, and beliefs. ‘One day’ she said, looking upwards and then straight into my eyes, ‘you will return to the people of your nativity, and assimilate once again. Never forget who you are, Celtic and Christian, now with all the training of an Apache’.

‘Indians’ I continued ‘were nomadic and spoke of peace while always warring with each other and sometimes with the hated white eyes. At all times there were watchers surrounding our village to protect and warn in times of danger. Unknown to us the Caddo and Tonkawa had agreed to a tentative alliance and early one morning overpowered our perimeter of defense and attacked while we were still sleeping. Few survived. My Indian parents were killed. I never saw Jenny again. I was found a couple of days later by some white traders friendly to our village. I sat disoriented and bloodied surrounded by six dead Caddo. I returned with them to the fort where I recovered from my wounds and started the process of assimilation just like Jenny said. The commandant of the fort took a great interest in me along with the forts doctor. We talked for hours. They found my story fascinating and answered all my questions preparing me to live amongst the whites once again.

One day I was introduced to the Bennings, a middle-aged childless couple who hearing about me came to visit. We sat and talked the afternoon away. We shared personal things like the loss of the only child she was able to carry full term, only to be still born. I shared openly about my life and losses. When they left to return to their ranch I was with them. Once again there was an instant bonding and the feeling we would make this work, thus the start of my third segment. From the time I first arrived it was Ma and Pa, and they called me Son. Pa had a colorful past fighten’ as a young man beside General Houston at the Battle of San Jacinto helping Texas win their Independence and later a stint with the Texas Rangers. It was during this time that he rescued a man simply called Teddy from a cruel and wrongful death. Together with Mac, Pa’s foreman and trusted friend they built a successful ranching operation.

Teddy was a shrewd businessman investing capital wisely, even talkin’ Mac into raisin’ Hereford’s over Longhorn’s a pivotal change in the cattle industry. Both men took me under their wings, Mac teaching me all about cattle, horses and ranchin’, and Teddy, our beloved Celestial about the business of running a profitable ranch and the disciplines of the martial arts, principally Tai Chi, Wing Chun, and Kung Fu. I learned to be light on my feet, agile, balanced, limber, and how to use leverage, especially against larger opponents, using their weight to defeat them. He told me when you first meet someone, friend or foe, take no more than 30 seconds to, as you say, ‘size them up’. ‘Always use your mind first. Ultimately this is where you will win or lose. All confrontation is about deception. When weak appear strong. When strong appear weak. Know your enemy or know yourself and be victorious half the time. Know your enemy and yourself and be victorious all the time, wisdom from The Art of War by Sun Tzu a brilliant military strategist written in 500BC’. ‘We are all born ignorant’, he said, ‘wisdom and experience are only acquired over time’.

Along with the tutelage of Mac and Teddy, Pa taught me how to shoot. He loved and respected guns and acquired quite an arsenal. I learned to shoot Springfields, Spencers, Sharps and Winchester rifles, the colt .45 caliber revolver known as the ‘peacemaker’, along with the colt navy revolver, the Russian and LeMat, shotguns and derringers. They were all at my disposal for use at any time. I shot thousands of rounds in practice learning to hit what I was aiming for. Pa said I was a natural possessing the rare combination of accuracy and speed. He taught me to protect and provide for the widows and fatherless, and to avenge the innocent. ‘There is so much evil in this world’ he said, ‘and with your unique set of skills I feel God is goin’ to use you to aright the balance. Though it seems evil is a necessary part of God’s plan, there’s nothin’ greater than when good triumphs’.

For almost seven wonderful years on the ranch I learned so much, honing and mastering new skills to add to all the wisdom of the Apache. My new Ma was so beautiful, loving, and wise. ‘Now, you know’ she said ‘you are one handsome devil. Many a girl in town as set her cap for you, and rightly so. Seems to me though you have somethin’ missin’ in your life. I have never known a man so driven. One day your Pa and I both know you’re goin’ to have to go. Just break it to our hearts gently. You are the son we could never have, and so much more. We are so proud of you. You are the greatest gift we have ever received. Our love for you knows no bounds’. We embraced each other cryin’ buckets of tears.

My leavin’ was preceded by a hemorrhagic fever that stole both of their lives away. It was an inexpressible loss and we grieved so. After readin’ the will I called Mac and Teddy in. Pa had left everything to me with explicit instructions to take care of Mac and Teddy. I assured them that they would be generously provided for, wanting for nothing. I also told them I would be leavin’ for a while and entrusted the welfare of the ranch into their capable hands. I would keep in touch, and they would be able to reach me on a regular basis. I was not abandoning ship, just goin’ to shore for an unspecified period of time.

As we stared at the dwindlin’ fire, I said ‘one day the time came and I was chasin’ the dawn as I rode out of the ranch, the start of my fourth segment. I’ve been gone over five years. I am known as the Avenger’. ‘You’ Maddie said, ‘you’re the one’! your eyes poppin’ and your jaw droppin’. ‘I’ve read about you. Is it true’? ‘Mostly’ I said, ‘with a little literary license for the writer’. You sat stunned, and then looked up into my eyes. ‘Whats to become of us?’ you asked. ‘Maybe we have only a short time’ I answered. ‘I don’t know what God and the future holds, I just know I want to spend it holding you’. Embracin’ me with tears flowin’ you said, ‘It’s about time you came around cowboy. I was fixin’ to have to start the show myself, havin’ to ask you for the first dance, and that’s a little embarrassin’ for the girl. But just so you know, I’ve found my man and I ain’t goin’ nowhere without you’.

I was on my way to Santa Fe when this most wonderful thing happened…Maddie. My heart had found its home. ‘Tell me about your ranch’ Maddie asked. “Well. after given Mac his fair share there are over 30,000 acres with over 8,000 cattle and the best quarter horses, Morgan’s and Mustang’s in the state. You, my dear will have one of the largest bank accounts in Texas’ I told her’. Stunned she finally spoke, ‘and you’ve been out here in the great lonesome all these years all by yourself riskin’ your live to avenge the innocent?. Cowboy, it’s time we go home’.

I would sincerely appreciate your response. This is a new endeavor for me, bringing the past into the present for your benefit…