by Karen Baney
Slamming his palm down on the table, Will said, through gritted teeth, “Owens! What do you think you are doing?”
Feigning innocence, Owens just shrugged.
In no mood to deal with insolent behavior, Will leaned forward into the man’s face. The smell of alcohol invaded his senses. “I will not have my men drinking on the trail!”
“Calm down, boss. I’m not on until this afternoon. How else do you expect me to fall asleep in broad daylight?” Owens said, his eyes narrowing to tiny slits.
Adrenaline shot through Will’s body, bringing him fully awake. He struggled not to hit the man as he tested Will’s resolve. Reaching his hand to Owens’ inside vest pocket, Will took the flask, opened it, and dumped the contents into the dirt. Then he handed the empty flask back to Owens.
“I expect my men to have a clear head while we’re on the trail.”
Owens’ face turned beet red. When he started to stand, Whitten clapped his hand down on his shoulder. The forthcoming response died on Owens tongue when Whitten shook his head in warning. At least the fool listened to his friend, Will thought, walking from the scene.
Splashing cold water over his face, Will blotted the soothing liquid away with the sleeve of his shirt. For a brief moment he closed his eyes, calming his temper before he did something stupid, like firing Owens. Replacing his Stetson on top of his head, he took the bowl of grits Snake offered. Leaning against the chuck wagon, some distance from his men, he ate slowly. Exhaustion tugged at him. Lord, I just need to make it to Santa Fe. Give me the strength to get us there.
Finishing the last bite of grits, he dished up more. Grabbing a clean spoon, he walked to the litter where the young Indian boy lay sleeping. Taking a seat next to the sleeping boy, Will could not shake the feeling that there was something unusual about him. His angular jaw line and tanned skin gave him the appearance of being part Indian. Yet, his fairer hair suggested otherwise. The scars on his back told the story of painful abuse. His thin arms and legs gave him the appearance of a young boy of twelve or so. But, the dusting of facial hair on his chin inferred he might be older.
Regardless, sitting here staring at him would not answer Will’s questions or help him figure out what to do with him. Reaching over the boy, he gave him a gentle shove.
As the boy’s eyes fluttered open, he shrank away from Will, fear widening his blue eyes. He has blue eyes, Will thought.
Softly, reassuringly, Will asked, “What’s your name, son?”
No answer.
“Do you speak English?”
A slight, almost imperceptible nod was his answer. His recoiled posture still spoke of fear and distrust.
Holding the bowl of food towards the boy, Will introduced himself. “Name’s Will Colter. Would you like some food?”
Slowly the boy reached out to grasp the bowl with shaky hands. Once he had a firm grip, he quickly pulled the bowl close to his chest, shoveling the food in as if he had not eaten for weeks.
“Take it easy,” Will warned. “There’s plenty more if you are still hungry. Don’t want to make yourself sick.”
The boy slowed his eating, keeping one wary eye on Will.
“Looks like your wounds are healing nicely,” Will commented, not sure why he continued with the one sided conversation. Maybe if he kept talking, the boy might see he had nothing to fear.
As the boy swallowed his last bite, Will held out his hand for the empty bowl. The boy gave it back, letting go quickly as if it were on fire. Standing, Will refilled the bowl with more grits and grabbed a hard biscuit. When he returned, he gave both to the boy. The second round of food disappeared as quickly as the first.
“If you’re feeling up to riding,” Will started, “I’d like you in the saddle today. It would help us cover more ground.”
The boy nodded.
Will waited another minute, hoping the boy might show some sign of speaking. Hearing nothing and needing to move on with his day, he turned to leave.
“Hawk,” the timid voice spoke.
Will looked over his shoulder, “Pardon?”
The boy responded with more confidence this time. “My name is Hawk.”
“Well, it is nice to meet you, Hawk. See Covington for a horse and saddle.” Will said, pointing to the wrangler. Maybe in time, Hawk would learn he could trust Will.
After returning the empty bowl to Snake, Will led Jackson from the herd of horses. As he lifted his saddle from the ground, a shadow fell across his back.
“Boss, why don’t you sit this shift out,” Ben suggested from atop his horse. “I’ll make sure the boys stay in line.”
Will started to argue, but the look in Ben’s eyes said there would be no winning this argument. The man could be downright stubborn when he put his mind to it. Pulling his saddle off the horse, Will searched for a spot to stretch out. He threw his saddle down on a fairly flat area. Then he shook out his bedroll. Settling down on the ground, he used his saddle as a hard pillow. No sooner did he close his eyes than he heard a scuffle over by the horses. He propped himself up on one arm to take a better look, his weariness begging him to do otherwise.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jed’s voice was accusing. “You ain’t stealing our horse.”
“Boss told him to get a horse from me, Jed.” Covington answered.
“Right, I’ll bet he did. Don’t know why he didn’t just shoot you on the spot, you savage,” Jed answered shoving Hawk.
Will groaned. The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was a fight between his men. He waited another minute, hoping the situation would resolve itself.
Hawk stood his ground rigidly. Not speaking. Not backing down. Not breaking eye contact with Jed—such a different reaction from his earlier fear of Will. Jed’s face turned red and he clenched his hands into a fist. Will was about to stand to separate the two, when Jed stormed off.
Seeing the confrontation was over, Will rested his head on the saddle then closed his eyes. The stress of the past few days faded as he fell into a peaceful slumber.
The sound of clanging pots some time later pulled Will from sleep. He must have slept the entire day, given the sun’s position in the sky. Stretching, he shot a look Ben’s way to let him know what he thought of being left to sleep so long. He really shouldn’t be upset, he obviously needed the rest. It’s just that he felt responsible for being short-handed. He stood, shook the dust from his blanket, and rolled it up, tossing it aside.
Ambling up to the makeshift table, Will took a seat with his men. “Hawk, why don’t you join us?” he said to the boy hanging back from the rest of the group.
All conversation stopped as every head snapped in Will’s direction. Jed shot him a look of death. Owens’ jaw went slack. Only Ben managed to keep a stoic expression.
Hawk hesitated, and then took a seat near Will and away from the others.
“How’s the herd today, boys?” Will asked, not needing to hear an answer. The men understood the unspoken command in his look, judging by the lack of eye contact. Choosing to play along, they muttered varying comments about this cow or that steer.
The strained atmosphere lingered through the meal. Ben bantered back and forth with Will trying to lighten the mood. When Jed finished his meal, he jumped up from the table with the pretense of helping Pace, shooting a defiant look over his shoulder.
Will could not blame Jed for being upset, knowing he lost his family to Indians. He’d seen this kind of hatred and bitterness before. He just hoped Jed wouldn’t do anything foolish.
Following the meal, the men packed up camp and rolled out. Will motioned for Hawk to join him in the flank position within the herd. Now that Hawk was healthier, Will needed to figure out what was to be done with him. Should he teach him the cattle trade? Or perhaps the young boy had a family to return to. Either way, he wanted to learn more about the young man named Hawk.
“You ever worked with cattle, son?” Will asked.
“No sir.”
“Well,
I am sure you can pick it up quickly,” Will replied, scratching at the three days of growth on his chin. He never much liked growing a beard and would find a way to remedy the itchy mess soon.
After a few minutes of cattle lowing and horse hooves thudding, Will picked up the conversation again. “Where are you from?”
Silence.
Will tired of pulling words from Hawk. Looking him straight in the eyes, Will firmly stated, “Before I hire a man, I like to know a little about him, you know. See if I can trust him to take care of my cattle.”
Hawk stammered. “H-hire me?”
“Yes. That is unless you have some other pressing job offer.”
“No sir,” Hawk stammered, “I mean yes, sir, I would like to work for you.”
“So where are you from?” Will prodded.
“My pa was a sheep farmer in Texas,” Hawk finally opened up. “He married my ma, a Kichai squaw, before the rest of her people were sent to the reservation. We lived on the ranch in east Texas along the Red River. Several years ago, I was captured by the Apaches, the Indians that attacked you. I did not want to go with them the day they attacked, but they said they would hunt down and kill my ma. I went with them because I had to.”
The sadness in the young man’s voice left Will wondering if there was someone still waiting for him in Texas. “Do you want to go back to Texas?”
“There is nothing left for me there. The second year I was with the Apaches, I learned that my ma had been sent to the reservation to live with her people and that my pa had died. I have nothing.”
“Well, you got the job, if you want it,” Will said, taking compassion on the young man.
“But, I don’t know anything about herding cattle,” Hawk said, his shoulders slumping.
“We’ll teach you. We usually have a few young, somewhat inexperienced men on the drive. You just watch me and Ben and you’ll be fine. How old are you anyway?”
“Sixteen.”
Another really young man. Jed, Hawk, Owens, Covington, and Whitten were all under twenty. But, with Malone gone, Will really needed help, albeit inexperienced. They were still a few days out from Santa Fe at best and would not be able to hire more men until then.
Will spoke with Hawk a few more times throughout the night, explaining what to look for when driving the herd and when at camp. The boy seemed eager to learn.
When dawn tinged the sky deep red, Will knew they were in for some weather. Shortly after setting up camp for the day, the heavens broke loose in a downpour. Days like this were the most miserable on the trail. About the only thing a cowboy could do, was don a slicker to hopefully keep dry and sit about on his horse. No one would be getting any sleep today.
Snake and Whitten moved Pace from the litter to the chuck wagon to keep him dry. Hawk seemed to be recovering rapidly but Pace was not as fortunate. He was delirious throughout most of the night. Some of his wounds festered, despite any ministrations. Snake told Will this morning that he was concerned the young man may not make it to Santa Fe. Lord, please keep Pace alive until we can get him better care. He hated losing another man.
The general mood of the cowboys was agitated, as was often the case in a day full of rain. Tempers were short. Both dinner and supper were cold unappetizing fare, since the downpour prevented Snake from building a fire. Everyone was cold. Everyone was tired. Everyone was wet. As they pulled up camp, tensions rose to a boiling point. Will wasn’t sure how it came to be, but when he looked toward Jed, he saw the young man with his pistol trained on Hawk.
“You devilish savage! I know you killed my family. You are good for nothing and I’d sooner kill ya than see your face another day,” Jed vehemently exclaimed, pulling back on the hammer to cock the gun.
Without thinking, Will ran full force, connecting his shoulder with Jed’s side. As the two fell to the ground, the thick mud coated Will’s jeans. In the fall, the gun flew from Jed’s hand and landed out of reach. An angry Jed swung his fist, landing squarely on Will’s jaw, the strength of the blow catching Will off guard. Falling to his side onto the tacky muddy ground, Will quickly recovered. Throwing his weight back toward Jed, he pinned the younger man’s back to the ground. Jed started to swing with his left hand, then stopped mid-air—only the mud flung from his hand to Will’s shirt. His eyes darkened but he dropped his arms to his side, losing his muster. Will stood, then yanked Jed to his feet. Hauling the young cowboy by his shirt collar, Will drug him a short distance from camp to have a man to man discussion with his hot-headed hand.
Will used his height to intimidate the young man. “What do you think you were doing back there?”
“I was taking care of the murderous savage,” Jed answered moving closer to Will, standing toe to toe.
“What makes you think he is a murderer? You don’t know anything about him,” Will shouted at the foolish cowboy.
“He killed my family.”
“I doubt that,” Will scoffed, trying to show the man how foolish he was being. “He is your age. Was there a young man your age with sandy colored hair that day your family died?”
Jed shook his head and crossed his arms. He responded, “No. But them Indians are all the same. They hate white folk and go around trying to wipe us out. I was gonna git him before he could git me.”
Stepping closer to Jed, Will looked down staring into the young man’s eyes. “That kind of hatred has no place on the cattle drive, Jed. That’s the kind of anger that distracts you and is gonna get you killed.”
Jed involuntarily took a step backwards, his anger still evident. “How can you take his side? How can you let him stay with us?”
“Because, I believe God sees every man as valuable, whether half-Indian, Mexican, or some white man who had his family killed by Indians,” Will replied in a calm even tone. As he scraped the mud from his pants, Will continued, “Every man stands on his own merits and what he does with his life, not on his heritage. When you stand before God one day, you will have to answer for yourself, just as I will for myself, and Hawk will for himself.
“Make no mistake, every man will be judged and it won’t be by you or by me, but it will be by the Almighty God. Those men that killed your family will be judged for what they did. No amount of your anger is going to add to that judgment. The only thing your hatred will do is get you hurt or killed, or full of guilt for killing an innocent man. Is that what you want on your hands? The blood of an innocent man? For what? To satisfy some revenge that will never bring your family back?” Will was so frustrated with the young man and hoped he was getting through.
Jed stood, arms still crossed, in a defiant posture for a few minutes while Will’s words washed over him. Then, slowly, the man became a boy again, his pain and loss evident. Will could see he was just beginning to let some of it go. It wasn’t everything he hoped for, but it was a good start. Jed uncrossed his arms and let them fall to his side.
“I want them back,” he whispered.
Will placed his hand on Jed’s shoulder, much like his father did when Will was Jed’s age. “I know, but what is done is done. We can’t change the past. We can only change how we decide to move forward.”
The silence stretched for several minutes and Will dropped his hand to his side. Sensing the boy needed to say more, Will waited patiently.
“It was so horrible—what they did to my family. They rode into the ranch,” Jed explained, his eyes in a far off place as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “First they took my sister and did unspeakable things to her before they snapped her neck. She was just ten years old. What kind of monster does that? Then they went into the house. I could hear my mother’s screams, but I was frozen in place, out of sight in the barn. Then the screaming stopped and they set fire to the house. When my pa came riding in, they threw a tomahawk at him, hitting him square between the eyes and knocking him off his horse. Then they took his scalp. I thought for sure they would come for me next or they would burn the barn and I would die in the fire. But then, they just lef
t. The house burnt the ground before I thought it was safe enough to come out. My whole family was dead. And I saw it all.”
Jed’s anger faded, replaced by a few drops of moisture rolling down his face. His shoulders slumped forward as if weary of carrying the awful weight. When he looked up at Will, his eyes silently pleaded for something. Maybe forgiveness?
His words soft, Will said, “Jed, it is not your fault.”
The young man stared off into the distance, not believing it.
“It is not your fault. There was nothing you could have done that would have saved any of them and not gotten you killed, too.”
Clearing his throat, Jed said, “Wish I could believe that.”
His voice was devoid of bitterness. Instead, it was filled with hope.
“Give it time.” Putting his hand on the young man’s shoulder Will gave a gentle squeeze, then continued, “God doesn’t blame you and if you ask him, he will forgive you for this guilt you are carrying around. You don’t have to carry it any longer.”
Jed snorted. “God let them take my family away. I want nothing to do with him!”
His shout echoed in Will’s ears as he ran from camp.
Chapter 9
The rain continued throughout the entire day and well into the night. The sweet smell of rain mixed with the pungent odor of wet cattle and horseflesh. The longhorns kicked up mud as they plodded forward on their journey westward. Will shivered from the cold, soaked to the bone despite his slicker. The other cowboys appeared as miserable as he.
Finally, a few hours before dawn, the rain stopped. Off in the distance lights dotted the foothills of the mountain. Santa Fe was in sight, at last. As they set up camp for the day, Will thanked God for reaching this milestone of the journey. Not only did Santa Fe represent the opportunity to rest and resupply, it allowed Will a chance to hire more men.
Life on the drive challenged the hardiest of men. The drive stimulated changes in attitudes and opinions—if it failed to claim your life first, Will thought.
He remembered his third cattle drive. The first two progressed uneventfully, but the third introduced Will to the dangers of the drive in an unforgettable manner. He was barely twenty years old. He and the cowboys of the Star C herded the longhorns to the New Orleans market. On that drive—the worst the Star C Ranch experienced—they ran into a warring band of Indians just days into the drive. They lost three men in the fight, and two more due to infection before the week was out.
