A Tale of Bigfoot Wallace — As Recounted by Charles T. Carlton (1924)
In the early days of Texas, around the 1860s, when the state was still young, I was just fifteen years old, living with my family on a farm near present-day Somerset. Most of the men were away fighting in the Civil War, leaving the responsibility of protecting homes largely to boys like us. During that time, Comanche raiding parties frequently moved through our region, especially along the Frio and Medina Rivers during full moon nights. They would steal horses and, at times, attack entire families without mercy. On one such occasion, I gathered as many boys as I could, and we set out to scout the countryside for signs of raiders. We eventually camped along the Chicon, about twenty miles from Castroville. After killing a stray calf for supper, we were preparing our meal when none other than Bigfoot Wallace arrived—as he often did in such situations—and joined us. Most of the boys in our group were barely fourteen. After supper, Wallace asked who was leading the party. I told him no one—...