The Western Adventures of Cade McCall Box Set

by Robert Vaughan

  “Oh, oh, they’ll be on the warpath.” Cade took a deep breath. “It’s called revenge.”

  “Let us pray that thee be wrong,” Miles said.

  2

  The Quahadi Village of Quanah Parker:

  Quanah Parker and a small band of Quahadi warriors were riding toward the Kiowa camp of Lone Wolf. He rode with a heavy heart as he was carrying the news that Bad Hand, the name the People called Colonel Ranald Mackenzie, was back in the Texas Panhandle. The story was that he was either at Fort Concho or at Fort Richardson, but it didn’t matter. Mackenzie was the bluecoat the Comanche hated the most.

  And Mackenzie hated Quanah Parker. It had been he who had bested Mackenzie at Blanco Canyon. The Comanche under Quanah’s leadership had raided the cavalry herd, getting away with more than 60 horses, including Mackenzie’s prized gray pacer. From that time on, Mackenzie had his sights set on the young war chief.

  But after the Blanco Canyon raid, Mackenzie did not react the way other soldiers had done before him. He spent a year exploring the Llano Estacado, that part of the panhandle that had always served as the refuge of the People. Now, Mackenzie had learned the trails that led up the rugged canyon walls, and he had found the places where he could find the sweetest water. Never again would the People be able to evade the bluecoats as they had always done before.

  Quanah had observed firsthand the devastation Mackenzie and his troops imposed upon him and his brothers. After a skirmish Mackenzie ordered the villages burned, the horses captured, and the women and children taken as hostages. In one raid, two of Quanah’s wives had been forced to march to Fort Sill. It was only after the arrival of Agent Haworth at the Comanche-Kiowa Reservation, that the Governor forced the release of the prisoners.

  After a devastating winter that lasted well into spring with no sign of the return of the buffalo, several of the People had vowed to give up their way of life and make the reservation their home, but Quanah could not do that. He could see that the very essence of who the People were was being destroyed.

  The Comanche—the most feared warriors of the Plains, the best horsemen and the uncontested best hunters, were slowly disappearing. The white man’s diseases, the white man’s bullets, and the white man’s killing of the buffalo were slowly decimating their number. The bands that once had tipis that stretched for miles along the rivers now had a few hundred in their encampments. If there was no nomadic life, no warring with other tribes, no killing of the buffalo, there would be no need for the Nerm, known as the People, to even exist.

  The white man’s encroachment on land promised the People had to be stopped, and he, the son of a captured white woman who had embraced the Indian culture, would be the one to stop them.

  As Quanah rode into Lone Wolf’s village, he sat tall and straight in his saddle, thinking of Lone Wolf’s son whose name was Tauankia, Sitting-in-the-Saddle. Tauankia had been killed by Mackenzie’s men at Kickapoo Springs, and Lone Wolf had vowed he would recover his body. Lone Wolf’s hatred of the white man was as great as Quanah’s and he knew he could depend upon the Kiowa chief to join him in his effort to stop the incursion of the white man.

  When Quanah was told where he could find Lone Wolf, the chief stepped out to meet his visitor. Quanah had heard that in his grief, Lone Wolf had burned his lodge, his wagon, his buffalo robes, and he had killed all his horses. In addition, he had cut his hair, and the distraught man now stood before him.

  “Welcome, Quanah,” Lone Wolf greeted when he stepped out of Kicking Bird’s lodge. “I am honored to be visited by such a warrior.”

  “I thank you for the greeting, and I am here to share in your grieving,” Quanah replied as one of the young horse-minders of the village took his horse.

  “Come inside the tipi and smoke with me,” Lone Wolf said.

  A moment later Quanah was sitting on a blanket in front of the fire. The hole in the top of Kicking Bird’s tipi drew well, allowing the smoke to travel up in a tight spiral.

  Lone Wolf lit the pipe, took a puff, then passed it to Quanah. As they smoked, neither man spoke, the silence interrupted only by the soft puffs of the two men. When the smoking was done, Lone Wolf, by gesture alone, invited Quanah to speak.

  “My heart is heavy for you, Lone Wolf, for the loss of your son and your nephew.”

  “My son had seen only fifteen summers,” Lone Wolf replied.

  “My nephew, too, was killed by the soldiers,” Quanah said, “and now, Bad Hand is back among us.”

  “This I have heard.”

  “The white man says he will provide for us, but in the bad winter when there was no game, neither was their food for our woman and children. The white man says that we must live in peace, but the white thieves come to steal our horses,” Quanah said. “They say that we can hunt only in the land that they have given us, but the white buffalo hunters with guns that can reach far, come to kill our buffalo.

  “In the north, where once buffalo were as many as the blades of grass, they are no more, because the white men have killed them. Soon, I think there will be no more buffalo anywhere, and when there are no more buffalo, I fear there will be no more people,” Quanah said.

  “I hear your words, Quanah, and I ask if you have thought on them and if you have, have you come to an answer as to what can be done? Or is your answer the one Kicking Bird has chosen?”

  “Kicking Bird has moved to the reservation?”

  “He has. He does not want to avenge the death of my son. He does not want to go after the men who steal our horses. He says the white man is too strong.”

  “We cannot let the People die,” Quanah said. “We cannot let our way of life disappear. If the buffalo are all killed, soon there will be no People. As of yet, I do not have an answer to our problem. I have come to seek your councils so that, you, too, may think on it. Perhaps, together, we will think of a way to drive out the whites so that the land which belongs to us will be free of the ones who kill our buffalo and steal our horses,” Quanah said.

  “Yes, you will council with other Quahadi, and I will seek the advice of the ones who have lived long and thought much, and we will find a way.”

  Later, as Quanah rode back to his village, he thought of the visit he had had with Lone Wolf of the Kiowa. He had said the end of the buffalo would be the end of the People. The People would be forced to live on the Government’s reservation, and the People would disappear, just as had the Caddos and the Wichitas.

  And the Tonkawa. Quanah spit on the ground.

  How he hated the traitorous Tonks. They not only accepted the white man’s ways, they rode as scouts for the devil Mackenzie teaching the bluecoats the Indian ways.

  He had to come up with a way to save their way of life. The People had roamed the plains killing the buffalo since the first band of the Penateka had come down from the north. The People had been here since before the horse. And now, the white man would take this land away from him.

  No. He, Quanah Parker, the half-breed son of Peta Nocona and Nautdah, would save his land and his people. He would open his heart and his mind and work to receive a vision.

  Dodge City:

  When Cade and Gus rolled into Dodge City, it was like the circus was coming to town. Buffalo hunters were everywhere.

  After the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad had reached Dodge City in 1872, and after the eastern markets had perfected the method of turning hides into quality leather, the Kansas plains had been inundated with buffalo hunters. In a three-year period, more than five million animals had been killed, with each hide bringing between two and five dollars apiece.

  Buffalo hunting was the lifeblood of the economy of Dodge City, and when it was realized that the buffalo would not be coming back to Kansas, the hunters scouted the area all the way to the Texas Panhandle where they found evidence of large herds of buffalo that were still in existence.

  There was no question. They were going to Texas!

  “I was getting a little worried about you,” Jacob
Harrison said when the two wagons pulled up in front of the freight office.

  “Why is that? We made good time,” Cade said.

  “I know. It’s just that we’re losing business.”

  Cade jumped down and handed the reins to Dean Godsey, who took the wagon to the correl.

  “I thought you said we had a contract with Charlie Myers. Did we lose that?”

  “No, we didn’t lose it, but look around you. Myers made a deal with all these hunters. If they’ll agree to haul freight south, he’ll sell it back to ‘em, using Dodge prices,” Jacob said.

  Cade chuckled. “Actually, that’s sort of ingenious.”

  “For him. Not for us.”

  Cade went to his room at the Dodge House where he kept his meager belongings. Jeter and Magnolia had asked him many times to move in with them, and he had considered it, but when it was time to make the decision, he backed out.

  It was because of Chantal.

  He loved the child as much as he could love his own flesh and blood, but when he saw her he was reminded of Arabella. Chantal had so many of her mother’s features—the dark eyes and hair being the most obvious. But even at three years old, he recognized Arabella’s spunkiness coming out in her personality.

  Why was he, a grown man, not taking the responsibility of raising a child? Why did he leave Chantal with Magnolia and Jeter, when other widowers raised their children all the time?

  He knew the answer. He was scared. What if he did something that would cause her death, just as it was his negligence that had ultimately caused Arabella’s death? If that happened again, he couldn’t live with himself.

  But now, all he needed was a bath and a shave and he would see his little darling. He smiled as he grabbed clean clothes and walked down the hall to the bathing room.

  Cade and Jeter were watching the two little girls as they played with the carved horses Cade had brought from the agency.

  “You couldn’t find any dolls?” Magnolia asked as she set dishes of food on the table. “I do believe you’re trying to turn these two into boys.”

  “I don’t think so,” Cade said as he moved one of the horses closer to Bella. “Who’s been out riding with them? Me or you?”

  “That’s different. Every child needs to know how to ride a horse if she’s going to live out here in the wild,” Magnolia said.

  “When you visited the agency, did you see anybody we know?” Jeter asked.

  “I saw Spotted Wolf and John Miles, of course,” Cade said. “I don’t envy him right now. He’s trying to do what’s right by the Indians, but the government is making his job mighty hard.”

  “I thought you just took a load of rations.”

  “Two wagons for 500 lodges,” Cade said. “You tell me if you think that’s enough food.”

  “What’s he going to do?”

  “He has no choice. He has to let them leave the reservation, and the awful thing is, there isn’t a buffalo in sight that’s closer than a hundred and fifty miles.”

  “So that means raiding and killing the stock that belongs to the settlers,” Jeter said, “and they won’t stop with just killing animals.”

  Cade nodded his head in agreement.

  “And you and Jacob are going to see to it that even more buffalo are killed. Are you sure you want to take this contract to haul supplies for Charlie Myers?”

  “It’s going to happen whether we do it or not,” Cade said. “Myers has about 50 hunters and their hide wagons lined up. He’s going to load them up with his supplies and head south.”

  “Do you know where he’s goin’ to set up his store?”

  “No, and I don’t think he knows. He says wherever he can find good water, good grass with plenty of timber and of course close enough to the buffalo herd,” Cade said.

  “It sounds like you’re going to be on the Canadian.”

  “I think Myers, for sure, will be on the Canadian,” Cade said. “As soon as Harrison and McCall get our freight unloaded, we’re on the way back.”

  “I don’t believe you, Cade McCall. As soon as those hunters start bringing in hides, you’ll be itchin’ to get out there on the plains so you can bring back a load of your own,” Jeter said.

  “Well, maybe we can stay a little while.”

  From the Dodge City Messenger:

  More Hides for Dodge City

  Buffalo Hunters Follow the Herd

  The commerce of Dodge City, from its inception, has been in the processing and shipping of “gold” not the yellow metal that is so elusive, but the hide of the buffalo. Of recent months though, that avocation has fallen upon difficult times due to the scarcity of the buffalo.

  As it has developed, however, the buffalo have not disappeared as has been so lamented by the nay-sayers. They have merely relocated to ranges south, beyond the Arkansas, beyond the Cimarron, yes, even to the Canadian River.

  In order to carry out this new endeavor the buffalo hunters must follow the herd and several enterprising businessmen in town, such as Charlie Myers, Thomas O’Keefe, William Olds, and James Hanrahan, have made plans to provide goods and services for the intrepid hunters in a place close to them.

  To that end, there will soon leave Dodge City a procession of wagons, forming a train not seen since our fathers and grandfathers made those long and daring treks across the vast country to bring civilization to the West. It is anticipated that many of our citizens will be on hand for the departure to wish well those who by their endeavors, can only but benefit the economy of our fair city.

  W.M.D. Lee read the article, then lay the paper aside. He was in Dodge, arranging for a shipment of supplies to two of the Lee and Reynolds trading posts, the one at Camp Supply and the one at the Cheyenne-Arapaho Agency. Charlie Myers planned to put a business down in the Texas Panhandle, to follow the buffalo hunters. Lee had accepted that Charlie Myers was his competitor, but Myers was in Dodge City, and Lee had chosen to concentrate his business in the Indian Territory near Camp Supply.

  Myers, and two other Dodge City merchants, Charles Rath and Robert Wright, made their livings by procuring buffalo hides just as Lee did. While the merchants who lived in Dodge provided a market for the white hunters, W.M.D. Lee had dealt exclusively with the Indians. He had a monopoly trading with the Indians for their hides, and he didn’t like the thought of sharing the southern herd with the white hunters who had decimated the herd north of the Arkansas River. If they were allowed to kill buffalo indiscriminately, as they had done on the Kansas plains, soon there would be no buffalo at all.

  No. Having competition south of the Canadian was not a pleasant future to contemplate.

  3

  It was the end of March before the merchants were organized enough to start the trip south. At first, Jacob and Cade had thought they would only put two of their three wagons in service, but Charlie Myers had offered to pay them more money. So, it was that every man who worked for Harrison and McCall was to be on this trek: Gus Zordel, Dean Godsey, Mike Foster, Dale Matthews, Fuzzy McKnight, and Ed Keaton.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Jeter Willis said as he strapped down the canvas covering on the final wagon. “I can’t help but think about what happened to Lambdin and Morris.”

  “When they were killed, they were a single wagon,” Jacob said. “They didn’t have a chance.”

  “Look at all this,” Cade said, as his hand swept toward the crowded street. “Right now, I count at least thirty wagons loaded and ready to go, and every one of them has a buffalo hunter who could kill a buffalo a thousand feet away if he had to.”

  “Buffalo stand still. Indians don’t.”

  Cade laughed. “Didn’t you hear Dirty Face Jones talking the other night? He said ‘if you were born to be killed by Indians, you would be killed by Indians if you went to New York. That wouldn’t make any difference’.”

  “And you’re listening to Dirty Face?” a young man said as he walked up to Cade, extending his hand.

  “Well, I’ll be dam
ned. Bat Masterson. I haven’t seen you for a while. Thought you must have skipped the country,” Cade said.

  “I thought I might be skipping the country all together,” Bat said. “See this scar.” He lifted the hair off his forehead. “Had a run in with Bear Shield’s band, but I got ‘em back. See that one, and that one, and that one.” He was pointing to various horses that were saddled and ready to go. “Those used to belong to Bear Shield, but Jim Harvey and I sort of liberated ‘em and about a dozen more. Sold ‘em for $1,200.”

  “Tell me, if you can point these horses out, don’t you think Bear Shield could do the same thing?” Cade asked.

  “Look at these men. Have you ever seen a rougher looking bunch of scoundrels? No Indian’s going to come anywhere near us,” Bat said.

  “I hope to hell, you’re right,” Jeter said.

  Nearby, several of the hunters were standing around a man who was talking in a loud voice and waving his arms wildly. The four men walked over to see what was going on.

  “I tell you, don’t go,” the man said. “The Comanche and Kiowa are ready to take out any white man who comes to their territory. The government told them they had the right to kill buffalo south of the Arkansas, and now you bastards have moved the dead line to the Cimarron. If you think they’re going to stand for them being pushed away from the Canadian, you’re crazy.”

  “Are we gonna listen to a breed? A breed whose got hisself a Cheyenne woman?” one of the hunter’s yelled. “Amos Chapman don’t want to share the booty. He wants to take all the hides from his brothers and sell ‘em hisself.”

  “I tell you it’s bad,” Chapman continued. “The whites are stealing their horses and scalping settlers just to make it look like it’s Indians doin’ it. Look around you—do you see all the spotted ponies? Those came from the Cheyenne. Little Robe and Bull Bear lost 43 head, and a lot of ‘em are going south in this train.”