Chapter 10

Early in the morning, the tower watch reported to the sergeant of the guard that several Indians were on a rise to the west of the Hacienda. They seemed to be watching the company of new trainees on the rifle range.

Roosevelt Hobson, the Captain in charge of the Owls, was called. It was hoped that he could identify the watchers. However, after examining them through his field glasses, he said, “Well, I’m not sure which tribe they belong to. I don’t recognize their gear and paint.”

Captain Monrow, the current officer of the day, stood considering the situation. Then after a couple of minutes, he turned to Hobson. “OK, Hobson, you are the resident expert. Assemble a patrol from the reaction force and whoever else you might need. Ride out there and see what these boys are up to. They’re probably just curious, but we need to be sure. Keep your carbines in their boots and pistols holstered. We’ll be watching, and if you need help, we’ll ride out the reaction force.”

As Captain Hobson and his patrol rode out of the main gate towards the group. The Indians suddenly bolted and were last seen riding hard to the northwest.

For the past three days, Rides Spotted Pony and two other Piute warriors had been watching the strange antics of the pony riders. Every morning they had walked out of the big white lodge. The warriors were confused at first by the way they walked. The pony riders were walking together like the beads in a medicine band. Then their confusion increased when the pony riders started shooting their rifles at white pieces of cloth lined up on the other side of an empty field. After a few shots, they would get the pieces of cloth and put new ones up. Then another group would start shooting. Except for when the sun was overhead, this would go on all day. Then in the afternoon, the riders would line up like before and walk back into the lodge.

After the first two days Running Antelope, Rides Spotted Pony’s older companion, became impatient. Rides Spotted Pony had promised honors and prizes on this raid. So far, all they had done was ride around the area, looking at white farms and homesteads. Most of them would have been easy to raid. They had been lightly defended, if at all. Three warriors could easily attack them, and there would be scalps, horses, and rifles. They could then head back to their tribe and proudly show the prizes from these raids. They might have also taken some slaves for the tribe.

Finally Running Antelope had run out of patience. “Brother,” he said to Rides Spotted Pony, “I am tired of this. We have done nothing but watch these crazy whites. Are we going to raid them? Or are we going to return to our homes? You said that if we followed, we would have scalps and treasures, but we have nothing to show for this trip. We have wasted our time, and I am heading back to my woman, hot food and a warm bed.”

Before Rides Spotted Pony could respond, Walking Bird, the third and youngest warrior, called out and pointed towards the Hacienda. A group of five riders had just come from the gate and were heading towards them. The three warriors scrambled to their hidden ponies and started riding away. Rides Spotted Pony in the lead started heading to the northwest and their hunting grounds. He didn’t count this as a successful scout, but he did learn things that would be important when he returned with a larger force, and they could start raiding.

Captain Hobson’s patrol halted when they arrived at the Indian’s campsite. He had decided that it wasn’t necessary to pursue them, and it could possibly be a trick for an attack. It had happened before in the Regular Cavalry. A green officer goes chasing off after a temptingly small party of Indians only to be ambushed by a much larger group when he was too far out for help to arrive in time.

He put the three privates out as security and, with Corporal Humbolt, started looking at the site. Finally, after about thirty minutes, he pulled Humbolt aside.

“Well, Casey, what do you think?”

“The way I see it, Captain, we’ve got three, maybe four people. They’re all wearing moccasins, so, therefore, probably Indians. They had been here a couple of days, not more than a week. They ran a cold camp, no fires or smoke.”

Then he led Hobson over a rise and into a deep gully. “This is where they picketed their horse. I can confirm that there were three of them. The tracks that they made when they left show three unshod horses. Those unshod horses pretty much confirm they were Indians. The way the tracks head to the northwest, they ain’t Shoshone. I also don’t think they’s Apache or Comanches. If’n it was them, they’d be headed east and south. Could be a Comanchero scouting party. Or maybe Bannock even Blackfoot, but I doubt it. We’re a bit outside their territory.”