William Meador - Nates Redepmtion

Nates Redemption

Copyright 2012 by William Meador

All rights reserved. Copying or reproducing by any mechanical, photographic, or electronic processes, or in the form of any phonographic recording, shall violate the copyright. No transmitting or copying for public or private use is allowed, other than as brief quotations embodied in articles and/or reviews, without the express written permission of the author and publisher.

ISBN-13: 978-0-9825340-7-6

This is another story in the lives of the Kidd and Carter families, whose saga stretched from Virginia, Kentucky and Tennessee to Texas and the Territory of New Mexico. Some of them moved to Texas before Independence, but returned east to fight in the Civil War.

The family consisted of farmers, ranchers, freighters, miners, soldiers, army officers, outlaws and even preachers. Their epic of moving to West Texas and to the Territory of New Mexico was repeated by mouth from generation to generation. Some information was gleaned from diaries, genealogy studies and a little from history provided a great deal of insight. But, more importantly, these stories are about courage, forgiveness, love, tenacity and the belief in country and God.

Follow Nate Carter as he plays poker, fights gun battles and runs to his surprise, right into the arms of the law.

Suspecting hard cold weather was near at hand, Nate and Juan offered to haul supplies from Fort Concho. Approaching the Davis Mountains, and not far from the foothills, they heard gunfire.

Juan said, That is many guns.

Nate said, We need to find shelter and quickly, Juan.

There is a ravine just ahead. We can drive the wagon down out of sight, Juan noted.

As they approached the ravine the gunfire grew in volume.

Senor Nate, we are hearing Army rifles.

Nate whipped up the team. Just as Juan led Nate and the team, with the wagon, into the ravine and out of sight, a large band of Apache swarmed down the side of the mesa. They screamed and shouted their war cries.

The gunfire grew closer as the Indian band rode along the side of the ravine, never seeing Nate and Juan almost below them and against the near side.

Dust filled the air, assisting in the hiding of the wagon, Nate and Juan.

When they were gone, Nate said, Lordy! That was close.

I will see if they are gone, Juan volunteered.

Before Juan climbed to the top of the ravine, they heard the sound of a bugle.

Get down, Juan, it is the Cavalry, Nate warned.

A column of troopers rode by and vanished in another cloud of dust.

Nate asked, How could they keep from seeing us?

We were lucky, Senor Nate.

Just as Nate slapped the reins on the rumps of the team to start forward, a band of Apache surrounded them. The Apache had circled back. Nate and Juan were trapped.

Juan raised his hand and called a greeting in Apache.

The Indians jerked their horses to a halt in surprise.

One called in Apache, You Apache? You speak our tongue?

Juan stepped from his mule. Walking toward the Indians he called out, I am called Brown Owl. I am Warm Spring Apache.

The Apache chief asked, Why you called Brown Owl?

As you see I am light brown. That is the Mexican in me. For some reason I can see when the moon does not shine, so the name of Brown Owl.

It is good a name Brown Owl. The leader studied Nate and then asked, How come you ride with white man?

He is a friend. As the two men they made signs with their hands.

The band leader asked, How come you ride white man?

He is friend. As the two men spoke they made signs with their hands.

Nate, always a person to sense things long before they happen called to Juan, Ask them if they are hungry.

Juan, in Apache, asked, Chief, are you and your braves hungry? We have food.

The leader blinked, You have food?

Yes, Juan answered.

You feed Apache? the Chief asked.

Yes, you are my brothers. Juan struck his breast. I and my friend, he motioned at Nate. We will gladly feed our brothers.

The leader turned his pony and talked for several moments to members of his band.

Where you feed Apache? the Apache Chief asked.

Juan looked at Nate and translated.

Nate replied, You know this country. You pick a place.

We are close to Limpia Creek, Juan said. We could make camp up the creek and probably be out of sight to any army patrols.

Tell the Apache, Nate told Juan.

Juan talked for several minutes to the Apache leader. He concluded, We will kill a deer and share it and our food.

You do this for Apache? the Chief asked.

Juan nodded.

We go with you, the Chief said.

Juan rode his mule up the Limpia Creek with the Indians following. Nate worked the wagon along the streambed and joined Juan at the campsite hed picked.

Good camping place. Juan, you start the fire and I will take your mule and see if I can kill a deer. Tell them.

Juan again translated. The Apache helped find firewood and made no effort to stop Nate from riding away.

In a short time those around the camp heard Nates shotgun.

The Apache leader said, Hum, big gun.

Shortly Nate rode back into camp with a deer over the back of the mule. Members of the Apache band dressed the deer while Juan prepared tortillas and beans.

The leader asked, You say, you from Warm Spring Apache?

Yes, Juan replied.

I am Mescalero Apache The Chief stated proudly.

Juan looked at the Indian in puzzlement. I hear the Mescalero Apache lives in the great mountains to the north.

Hum, the leader growled. We soon ride with one named Red Hawk. Him much big medicine.

Juan studied the Indian, War party?

Big war party, we kill all White Eyes, maybe Mexicans, but no half Apache like you. We live as our ancestors lived many moons ago.

With the talk of war party, Juan moved closer to Nate and assisted in cooking the deer meat. He served beans on the tortillas and watched as the Apache ate like hungry dogs.

Him good! exclaimed their leader.

As soon as they ate their fill, the leader shouted, We go!

Without another word, they leaped to their feet, mounted their ponies and rode away.

During the winter and after a terrific ice and snow storm, the two men in San Antonio heard a story of great interest. They sat by a cantina fire and talked.

Partner, Im sure glad we wintered here.

You can say that again. I bet the snow and ice are two feet deep just north of here.

What do they call the land just north of here?

I heard one man all it, The Hill Country. Another called it, Hell.

Well, Im glad were here, the tall one said, as they leaned back in their cane-bottomed chairs and sipped their coffee.

The shorter man only grunted his agreement.

The door behind them opened, and three weary travelers entered the Cantina. The travelers asked for rooms, food and something hot to drink.