my fears vain or ill-grounded. One of
them caught hold of the child by the
throat; and with his whole strength,
and like an enraged lion actuated by
its devouring nature, held on like the
hungry vulture, until my child was
to all appearance entirely dead. I
exerted my whole feeble strength to
relieve it; but the other Indians held
me. They, by force, took it from me,
and threw it up in the air, and let it
fall on the frozen ground, until it was
apparently dead.
They gave it back to me. The
fountain of tears that had hitherto
given vent to my grief, was now dried
up. While I gazed upon the bruised
cheeks of my darling infant, I discovered some symptoms of returning
life. Oh, how vain was my hope that
they would let me have it if I could
revive it. I washed the blood from its
face; and after some time, it began
to breathe again; but a more heartrending scene ensued. As soon as
they found it had recovered a little,
they again tore it from my embrace
and knocked me down. They tied
a platted rope round the child’s
neck, and drew its naked body into
the large hedges of prickly pears,
which were from eight to twelve feet
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perhaps slow, horrible death as the
warriors danced around the campfire.
But worst of all was the plight of the
women whose children were also
captives. Some Comanches delighted
in torturing the children in the presence of their mothers. Helpless to aid
the frantic little ones, at times mothers prayed for the swift death of their
children.”
According to Rachel’s published
narrative, her captors brought her son
near enough she could hear his cries.
But as he called for her, she wrote,
she heard blows landing on his tiny
body and could hear in his voice
their stifling effect. Tragically, once
she’d weaned James Pratt, she never
saw him again. When she birthed
the baby she carried at the time of
her capture she named him Luther
after her husband. The Comanches
decided the baby interfered with her
daily work and, to Rachel’s horror,
killed him at about six weeks old.
“One cold morning, five or six
large Indians came where I was
suckling my infant. As soon as they
came in I felt my heart sick; my fears
agitated my whole frame to a complete state of convulsion; my body
shook with fear indeed. Nor were
SEPTEMBER 2015
together with ropes tied under the
horse’s belly. All day and night the
Indians rode northwest trying to put
as much ground between them and
the fort as possible.
“About midnight they halted,”
Rachel later wrote, “but there was not
near so many Indians as there was at
the fort, for they had been dropping
off all evening… . They now tied a
plaited thong around my arms, and
drew my hands behind me… . They
then tied a similar thong around my
ankles, and drew my feet and hands
together. They now turned me on my
face and I was unable to turn over,
when they commenced beating me
over the head with t