By Caleb McClain
Rufe stepped off his horse and lit a cigarette, waving the smoke from his face. He turned to Kit Acklin, a fellow Texas Ranger preparing their campsite. “We need to set up camp up there. Them bluffs are high enough to keep us hidden, and there’s water in the river below.” He flicked the ashes toward the slow-moving Nueces. “Plus, we’ve got the high ground advantage.”
“Well, hell! We already cleared enough mesquite thorns and limestone chunks to set our bedrolls.” Kit replied.
Rufe shook his head and took a drag. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Captain Cicero Rufus “Rufe” Perry was born in Alabama in 1822, but his family moved to Mexican-occupied Texas in 1833. At 13, he enlisted as a Texas Ranger, fighting in the Siege of San Antonio. This battle ignited his appetite for adventure, leading to nearly eight years of service, chasing Comanches, Apaches, and cattle rustlers throughout the republic. His current mission was to drive out the Mexican Army illegally rounding up horses across the Rio.
Texas Rangers Under Seige
As they set up camp, Rangers James Dunn and John Carlin returned from reconnaissance. The August sun hung low as they finished their meal, leaving about an hour of daylight. The men decided to bathe in pairs, with Dunn and Carlin going first. Before they could enjoy the cool waters, a volley of arrows rained down on the camp, accompanied by deafening war cries. Comanches.
Rufe and Kit leapt to their feet, firing at every moving bush. Rufe spotted one drawing a bow and fired just as the first arrow pierced his shoulder. Stumbling back, he dropped his rifle.
Fueled by adrenaline, he drew his Colt five-shooter, hitting the first four shots. A flash caught his eye, followed by a stabbing pain in his stomach. He doubled over, nauseated, as a third arrow struck him in the temple.
Vision blurred, he collapsed to the ground, lifeless amid the chaos of gunfire and screams. When Rufe regained consciousness, the Comanches were retreating. Blood poured from his wounds as he staggered to the riverbank.
By the time he reached the banks, he moved like a crawl. Dunn and Carlin, still nude, rushed to help, but when they flipped him over, their faces fell—he appeared lifeless.
Left for Dead
“Don’t worry, Rufe. You’re gonna make it.” They lied, trying to comfort their friend in his final moments. Kit Acklin, also wounded, limped to them. He struggled to remove an arrow but collapsed in defeat beside Rufe. Both men, knowing they wouldn’t survive this ordeal, examined each other’s wounds, accepting their fate.
Suddenly, the call for a second attack erupted from the trees. They crawled into nearby brush, praying to avoid capture, a fate worse than death. The thought of torture was enough to bolster their resolve. Dunn and Carlin fled, leaving Rufe and Kit bleeding out, slipping in and out of consciousness. Rufe packed dirt into the hole in his head and crawled for water at dusk, hiding in a hollow log the next day. When night fell, he began the 120-mile crawl to San Antonio.
Only three miles into his journey, pain and blood loss overwhelmed him. He lay still, waiting to die, fading in and out of consciousness, each time believing it was over. Hours later, inexplicably energized, he managed to stagger to his feet and continued toward home.
The Will to Fight
The relentless August sun beat down as dehydration and hunger gnawed at him. His bare feet were bloodied from cactus thorns and sharp rocks. Vultures circled, hoping for a meal, but Rufe pressed on, driven only by the will to survive and three prickly pear cactus fruits he discovered along the way.
Finally, he reached the road into San Antonio. In the hazy distance, the city he left 10 days prior came into view. Spotting a young boy, Rufe shouted for help. The boy sprinted into the city like a miniature Paul Revere to alert the residents, who gathered to aid him as he limped into the square and collapsed. Townspeople, innkeepers, boarding house attendants, and medical workers sprang into action to save him.
The following morning, as Rufe lay recovering, he was awakened by cheers outside. Confused, he asked the woman tending to him, “What’s going on?”
Against all odds, Kit Acklin had crawled into town.
