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    Is-A-Man (A J.T. Edson Standalone Western)
    Is-A-Man (A J.T. Edson Standalone Western)
    Is-A-Man (A J.T. Edson Standalone Western)
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    Is-A-Man (A J.T. Edson Standalone Western)

    By J.T. Edson

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    Although she was born Annie Singing Bear, the Great Spirit of the Comanche ordained that she should be reared as a fully trained warrior, and should be called, ‘Should-Be-A-Boy’.
    But before she could attain the status of tehnap, the Pahuraix signed a peace treaty and it seemed that Annie would never become the brave she wanted to be.
    Then a girl of her village was raped by drunken Mexicans. Honor demanded that she be avenged, but the treaty must not be broken. The Elders must speak truly when they vowed no man had taken revenge. And so Annie Singing Bear became a warrior of the Comanche nation.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPiccadilly
    Release dateNov 30, 2016
    ISBN9781370212569
    Is-A-Man (A J.T. Edson Standalone Western)
    Author

    J.T. Edson

    J.T. Edson brings to life the fierce and often bloody struggles of untamed West. His colorful characters are linked together by the binding power of the spirit of adventure -- and hard work -- that eventually won the West. With more than 25 million copies of his novels in print, J.T. Edson has proven to be one of the finest craftsmen of Western storytelling in our time.

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      a very good story. well written and easy to follow.

    Book preview

    Is-A-Man (A J.T. Edson Standalone Western) - J.T. Edson

    Although she was born Annie Singing Bear, the Great Spirit of the Comanche ordained that she should be reared as a fully trained warrior, and should be called, ‘Should-Be-A-Boy’.

    But before she could attain the status of tehnap, the Pahuraix signed a peace treaty and it seemed that Annie would never become the brave she wanted to be.

    Then a girl of her village was raped by drunken Mexicans. Honor demanded that she be avenged, but the treaty must not be broken. The Elders must speak truly when they vowed no man had taken revenge. And so Annie Singing Bear became a warrior of the Comanche nation.

    IS-A-MAN

    By J. T. Edson

    First published by Transworld Publishers Ltd in 1985

    Copyright © 1985, 2016 by J. T. Edson

    First Smashwords Edition: December 2016

    Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

    This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book

    Series Editor: Ben Bridges

    Text © Piccadilly Publishing

    Published by Arrangement with the Author’s Agent.

    For Julie and Colin Robins of Fisher-Robins Photonews and our ’spiritual home’, with thanks

    Author’s Note

    To save our ‘old hands’ from repetition, but for the benefit of new readers, we have included in the form of an Appendix various Western terms which we have received frequent requests to be clarified and an explanation of certain Comanche words. The spelling of the latter is phonetic.

    We realize that, in our present ‘permissive’ society, we could use the actual profanities employed by various people in the narrative. However, we do not concede that a spurious desire to create ‘realism’ is any excuse for doing so.

    Lastly, we refuse to pander to the current ‘trendy’ use of the metric system. Except when referring to the caliber of certain weapons traditionally measured in millimeters—i.e. Walther P-38, 9 mm—we will continue to employ miles, yards, feet, inches, stones, pounds and ounces, when quoting distances or weights.

    J.T.EDSON

    Prologue

    To an observer experienced in such matters, although someone uninitiated might have been misled, the clothing and accoutrements of the rider who was bringing a fourteen hand blue roan gelding to a halt within the walls of a dried up water course that made its descent through a cliff on to more open land in North-West Texas, were those of a young and probably not yet fully trained Comanche warrior.

    Dismounting on the right side, as was the habit of all North American Indians, brought more clearly into view the most important indication of the nation to which the rider belonged. Being considered indispensable by every Nemenuh brave-heart regardless of age or social status, i this was the breechclout. Made from a broad piece of cloth of the traditional blue color, it was drawn up between the legs and passed under a belt around the waist so the ends, one in front and the other behind, extended almost to knee level. ii

    Instead of the rider wearing trousers, attached by straps to the waist belt, close fitting buckskin ‘leggins’ offered protection to the lower limbs and reached from hip to foot. Beyond the seam, the border of the material was left loose and presented a wide, flapping margin to show off fringes of a length which distinguished them from those worn by members of the other Plains Indian nations. Ornamentation, such as small pieces of silver, bits of other metal, beads, shells, teeth from wapiti—erroneously called ‘elk’ by Europeans—and black or, more highly prized, grizzly bear, were attached to the fronds of those intended for ceremonial occasions. However, having been made for everyday use, the pair which the rider had on were unadorned.

    Every authority on Indians claimed it was possible to identify the tribe by the moccasin tracks they left; because the heel fringes, the nature of the soles and the form of the toes imprinted distinctly different marks. iii Generally being short and stubby, the foot of a Comanche created ‘sign’ that provided an additional clue. Having buckskin uppers and a seam down the heel, with the lower border sewed to a stiff sole of tanned buffalo hide, the moccasins were decorated in a similar fashion to the borders of the leggins. Running from the lace to the toe and along the seam at the heel, the fringes were relatively short on top. However, fifty or so in number, those on the heel were almost eight inches in length.

    Conforming to the natural contours of the skins and torso of the wearer, a long sleeved shirt had its neck cut in a simple V-shape. Hanging to below the top of the leggings outside the waist belt, it almost concealed the dangling flaps of the breechclout. It was made from the soft yellowish red-brown hide of a doe whitetail deer. Apart from fringes extending to over a foot in length around the collar and along the seams of the sleeves, being worn for work and not ceremonial, it too was without adornment of any kind.

    While a metal bit was considered necessary by almost every equestrian race elsewhere throughout the rest of the world, it was not used by the Comanche. Like all the others of the so-called ‘horse Indian’ nations in North America, they preferred to apply control and guidance to their mounts by means of the kind of ‘hackamore’ headstall with which the blue roan was fitted. iv

    Due to the manufacture having become mainly the province of Mexican captives, the single girthed saddle from which the rider descended was the modified Spanish pattern favored by Comanche warriors of every band. Made from three carefully shaved, smoothed, fitted and connected pieces of American elm, over which the rawhide of a buffalo was stretched when wet and allowed to dry, it had a high pommel and cantle, although less so than those used by women, with a slight pitch. Because the seat was moderate in length, it was deep and narrow, thereby offering added security for its occupant while helping to hold down weight. Making a concession to comfort, as much time was likely to be spent astride it—a Nemenuh brave sharing the antipathy of the cowhands who now resided throughout much of what had once been their vast domain, to walking when it was possible to ride v—a pad formed from a small and soft piece of bearskin was fitted. The stirrups were each produced from a single piece of green willow, the ends being brought up on either side and, bound together by sinew, covered with buffalo hide. Fastened to the cantle was a bundle made from hide, but the flesh side was out and prevented it from being identified as belonging to any specific type of animal.

    Despite belonging to a band which differed from the general Nemenuh in build, the bow held in the rider’s left hand and already strung ready for use, was of a pattern which long experience had established was most suitable for the needs of their nation as a whole. About thirty-six inches in length, sufficiently powerful to kill a bull buffalo or send an arrow accurately for considerable distances, it was intended to facilitate being used from the back of a horse by archers who were generally short by European standards. vi A well-filled quiver of arrows hung so they could be extracted from over the right shoulder.

    However, the rider did not allow the prediction for traditional Comanche attire and weapons to extend to all types of armament. Inscribed with the ‘medicine’ symbols of the band to which their owner belonged, a weapon belt carried a Colt ‘Army’ Model of 1860 revolver—the barrel and lever-operated ramrod reduced in length to four inches—with plain wooden grips in a white man’s open topped high cavalry twist holster at the right side. On the left, in a sheath made from the hide of a wapiti, hung a J. Russell & Co. ‘Green River’ hunting knife with a staghorn handle and an eight-inch clip point blade.

    Apart from the clothing and equipment, there was something very noticeable—even unusual about the rider!

    While the garments and equipment of the rider were clearly masculine, the contours of the body inside the former most certainly were not!

    In fact, the shape which filled the snugly fitting clothes was all too unmistakably feminine!

    Just past her fifteenth birthday and at most no more than five foot four in height, a strip of blue cloth was fastened around the rider’s brow. Inscribed with the appropriate ‘medicine’ symbols, it too served to identify the band to which she belonged and suggested she had not long held the status of warrior. As yet, the honor of decorating it with one or more eagle feathers, or other insignia of success, had not been earned. Although the Pahuraix generally tended to be taller and more slender than others of their nation, vii she had inherited her curvaceously buxom build of the more typical Comanche from her white mother. The fit of the masculine shirt over her torso in particular indicated she was powerfully muscled and firmly fleshed, not fat. Her hair, instead of being black, cropped to shoulder length and parted down the center—as was the usual style for one of her age and sex—was rusty reddish-brown and formed into two braids after the fashion of a warrior. While pretty by European standards, her coppery bronze face was broad and the brown eyes were somewhat slanted in the close to Mongoloid way of the Nemenuh. However, her nose was snub rather than aquiline, making the features closer to Caucasian in their lines. viii

    At birth, the mother of the rider had called her ‘Annie Singing Bear’!

    However, translated into English, the name—although mostly shortened for convenience to Tuinep’—she had acquired from her father and the other members of the Pahuraix Comanche band was, ‘Should-Be-A-Boy’!

    What was more, regardless of sex or birthright, by training and upbringing, the rider was a Comanche warrior!

    Part One – The Making of a Comanche Warrior

    One – Something of a Tomboy

    ‘Mr. Brackley, I’d like to challenge one of your ladies!’

    Hearing his name spoken in a feminine voice with a local accent, the tall, burly and white haired man wearing a black Derby hat and three-piece brown suit ran his gaze over the poster he had just attached to the wall of the Journey West Saloon in St. Joseph, Missouri. It was large and announced in bright red letters:

    HERE TONIGHT

    FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY

    PUG BRACKLEY FORMER HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION WRESTLER OF THE WORLD

    (Retired Undefeated)

    Presents

    HIS TROUPE OF INTERNATIONAL LADY WRESTLERS

    COUNTESS FRITZI von HAMBURG, Germany

    VICOMTESSE FIFI de VERSAILLES, France

    DUCHESS MOLLY of CONNEMARA, Ireland

    LADY LAVINIA of SHEFFIELD, England

    CONTESSA ROSA of MILAN, ITALY

    DONA CONCHITA ALVAREZ of MADRID, SPAIN

    Challenges From Local Female Contenders Welcomed

    NO CHALLENGES FROM GENTLEMEN ACCEPTED

    Try To Beat My Ladies, Ladies, And Win

    A TWENTY-FIVE DOLLAR PURSE

    Then, swinging around, Horace ‘Pug’ Brackley looked the speaker over with a calculating and knowing gaze!

    No more than five foot four in height, Brackley estimated her to be a girl not yet into her twenties. Sitting upon rusty reddish brown hair, a mass of ringlets cut shorter than was dictated by current fashion, was a brown felt hat with a low round crown and fairly wide brim turned up at the sides. Ornamented by a spray of red egret feathers, it had a yellow ribbon passing under her chin to frame a face which was pretty without being outstandingly beautiful and had a tan implying she spent much of her life out of doors. She had on a long sleeved russet colored day dress, V-necked and filled in high to the neck by a frilled white chemisette. Gathered at the waist, its skirt was long to the ground and gave no indication of what kind of footwear she favored. Its lines suggested her build was curvaceously close to buxom, but offered no clear sign whether the ‘hourglass’ curves were created by artificial aids to nature. In her bare left hand, which bore no rings to indicate marital status, she had a vanity bag and the equally unadorned right was empty.

    There was much about the girl which aroused speculation and curiosity for Brackley. It was not the first time he had had such a challenge issued, but mostly these had been delivered by a man on behalf of the woman concerned. Even on the rare occasions when the offer had been made in person, the challenger was invariably from much the same stratum of society as his contenders and not, unless he was mistaken in the summations he had drawn from her voice and appearance, the somewhat more affluent one to which he believed she belonged.

    The six female members of Brackley’s Troupe did possess the ethnic origins he ascribed to them. However, the aristocratic sounding titles and names of their respective cities on the poster were no more than products of his imagination. He had selected the latter because they were generally known by the audiences as being situated in the countries each of the women was supposedly representing. Regardless of the nations from which their ‘roots’ had stemmed, all came from poor immigrant families. Without exception, they had joined him to obtain a better standard of living and, despite the rigorous training he insisted was carried out to ensure the high standard of performance he demanded, considerably easier working conditions than would have been available to them in the communities from which they hailed.

    Every instinct Brackley possessed, including a well-developed judgment of human nature, told him the same did not apply to the speaker!

    While the girl was hardly a ‘princess in rags’, the burly white haired man felt sure she had not been born into an impoverished immigrant family. Her attire was of good quality and well cut, although not made from the most expensive materials available. What was more, it was in much better taste than was worn by any of the women with whom he generally dealt. Certainly it no way resembled the somewhat garish clothing and ostentatious amounts of cheap jewelry with which his ‘ladies’ tended to announce their improved circumstances. She wore the ensemble without any trace of self-consciousness, which implied she was used to doing so and was not just wearing it to persuade him that she belonged to a ‘better’ level of society than was the case.

    A further suggestion of the girl’s status was provided by her voice. It had a well-modulated timbre indicative of a better education than was usual amongst his ‘ladies’ and their general run of challengers. The latter were always either ‘good’ women from poor backgrounds, or prostitutes, who had earned themselves a reputation locally for toughness and competence as fighters. He did not believe she came into either category. She was pretty, as were all the members of his Troupe and some of their opponents. However, she was healthy and fresh faced in a way which implied a country dweller’s life with a fairly affluent background. Furthermore, while not exactly ingenuous, her features were far from being hard or brash either by nature, or because of an impoverished upbringing. On the other hand, there was something about her which suggested she had known what she was doing when she addressed him and was not just acting upon some momentary girlish impulse.

    All of which, Brackley told himself, raised the point of why the challenge had been issued?

    It seemed unlikely, the man felt sure, that the girl had sought him out because she believed participating in a wrestling bout offered an easier way of obtaining money than would be available to one of her class by conventional means. Nor did she strike him as being the kind of overindulged wealthy ‘spoiled brat’ who could be looking for an unusual form of excitement to relieve boredom, or was perhaps trying to win a bet, or was motivated with a desire to draw attention to herself by adopting behavior which would embarrass her family when their associates heard of it. If he had believed the latter to be the case, knowing the sufferers of the embarrassment were liable to try and bring down repercussions on the indirect cause rather than the real culprit, he would have dismissed her request out of hand. As it was, he felt he should at least find out why she had decided to issue the challenge.

    ‘You would, would you, young lady?’ Brackley asked, having thought quickly and arrived at his inconclusive decision. And then, seeking to satisfy his curiosity, he asked, ‘And do you mind if I ask why?’

    ‘For the money, of course,’ the girl admitted.

    On reading one of the posters she had seen Brackley putting up, and hearing a passing man address him by his name, she had concluded she was being offered an opportunity to make a badly needed addition to her financial condition. The would-be challenger had silenced that part of her which tried to insist she was being ill advised to say the least. Nevertheless, she had not been so impulsive as to make her proposal immediately. She had decided to take the precaution of trying to learn more about him before committing herself, and had succeeded in remaining undetected as she followed and studied him with a gaze as discerning as his own. Then, deducing correctly that he was returning to the saloon, she had known she must delay no longer and, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt, she had spoken.

    During the conversation, the girl had been convinced by her scrutiny at close quarters that the summations she had already formed about Brackley could be correct. Towering above her though he was, she found his demeanor more reassuring than menacing. He had rugged, yet pleasant, ugly features with a suggestion of a sense of humor in their lines. There was none of the loud and ‘flashy’ clothing she would have expected from somebody in such an unusual line of work. Rather he dressed and looked like the moderately well to do local farmers with whom her father had associated and in whose company she had spent much of her time as a teenager without coming to any harm. Furthermore, his voice was suggestive of a Southron upbringing and better education than she would have expected. All in all, he gave her the impression of being trustworthy and could be counted upon to deal honestly rather than try to take advantage of her.

    ‘The twenty-five dollars’ purse, you mean?’ the burly man suggested, reaching out with his right hand to tap the appropriate place on the poster.

    ‘That’s what I mean,’ the girl confirmed. Then, throwing a glance in each direction as she had done twice before since starting the conversation, she continued, ‘However, could we go somewhere off the street to talk, please.’

    ‘Of course,’ Brackley assented, his curiosity aroused. After he had led her into the mouth of the alley separating the saloon from the next building on the street, he enquired, ‘So you think you can beat one of my ladies?’

    ‘I’m willing to try—Besides—!’

    ‘Besides?’

    ‘From what I’ve heard about you,’ the girl said with a friendly frankness which its recipient found refreshing and flattering. ‘There is a collection taken for the loser of the bout, which means either way I’ll have something for my efforts.’

    ‘I do and you would,’ Brackley replied.

    ‘Would you mind telling me how much that will be?’ the girl asked.

    ‘That always depends on how good a show you—the challenger’s put on,’ Brackley answered. ‘It can be as high as twenty dollars if she’s done well and the crowd like her. But where did you hear about what goes on at my shows?’

    ‘Two of the men who were staying at the rooming house where I was living in Surbiton had seen your Troupe when you visited there,’ the girl explained. ‘I heard them talking about it over breakfast next morning.’

    ‘So you live in Surbiton, huh?’ the burly man said, the visit to which her companion had referred having taken place some two months earlier. ‘That’s a pretty long way from St. Jo.’

    ‘I know, I’ve made the journey,’ the girl answered, but her tone and demeanor had become wary. ‘Not that I live there, I was just staying for a vacation and I haven’t run away from home, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

    ‘I wasn’t,’ Brackley lied, the possibility having crossed his mind. ‘But, if you’ll pardon me for saying so, you’re not the usual kind of challenger I get for my ladies.’

    ‘Going by what the men were saying about the woman who took on your German Countess

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