The Outlet

by Andy Adams

  CHAPTER XXI. FORT BUFORD

  We were at our rope's end. There were a few accounts to settle inGlendive, after which we would shake its dust from our feet. Very fewof the quarantine guards returned to town, and with the exception ofSheriff Wherry, none of the leading cowmen, all having ridden directfor their ranches. Long before the train arrived which would carry us toLittle Missouri, the opposition herds appeared and crossed the railroadwest of town. Their commissaries entered the village for supplies, whilethe "major-domo," surrounded by a body-guard of men, rode about on hismiserable palfrey. The sheriff, fearing a clash between the victoriousand the vanquished, kept an eye on Sponsilier and me as we walked thestreets, freely expressing our contempt of Field, Radcliff & Co., theirhenchmen and their methods. Dave and I were both nerved to desperation;Sheriff Wherry, anxious to prevent a conflict, counciled with theopposition drovers, resulting in their outfits leaving town, while theprincipals took stage across to Buford.

  Meanwhile Sponsilier had wired full particulars to our employer at BigHorn. It was hardly necessary, as the frost no doubt was general allover Montana, but we were anxious to get into communication with Lovellimmediately on his return to the railroad. We had written him fromMiles of our failure at Powderville, and the expected second stand atGlendive, and now the elements had notified him that the oppositionherds were within striking distance, and would no doubt appear at Bufordon or before the day of delivery. An irritable man like our employerwould neither eat nor sleep, once the delivery at the Crow Agency wasover, until reaching the railroad, and our message would be awaiting himon his return to Big Horn. Our train reached Little Missouri early inthe evening, and leaving word with the agent that we were expectingimportant messages from the west, we visited the liveryman and inquiredabout the welfare of our horses. The proprietor of the stable informedus that they had fared well, and that he would have them ready for us onan hour's notice. It was after dark and we were at supper when the firstmessage came. An immediate answer was required, and arising from thetable, we left our meal unfinished and hastened to the depot. From thenuntil midnight, messages flashed back and forth, Sponsilier dictatingwhile I wrote. As there was no train before the regular passenger thenext day, the last wire requested us to have the horses ready to meetthe Eastbound, saying that Bob Quirk would accompany Lovell.

  That night it frosted again. Sponsilier and I slept until noon the nextday without awakening. Then the horses were brought in from pasture, andpreparation was made to leave that evening. It was in the neighborhoodof ninety miles across to the mouth of the Yellowstone, and the chanceswere that we would ride it without unsaddling. The horses had had a twoweeks' rest, and if our employer insisted on it, we would breakfast withthe herds the next morning. I was anxious to see the cattle again andrejoin my outfit, but like a watched pot, the train was an hour late.Sponsilier and I took advantage of the delay and fortified the innerman against the night and the ride before us. This proved fortunate, asLovell and my brother had supper en route in the dining-car. A runningseries of questions were asked and answered; saddles were shaken out ofgunny-sacks and cinched on waiting horses as though we were startingto a prairie fire. Bob Quirk's cattle had reached the Crow Agency insplendid condition, the delivery was effected without a word, and oldman Don was in possession of a letter from Flood, saying everything hadpassed smoothly at the Rosebud Agency.

  Contrary to the expectation of Sponsilier and myself, our employer wasin a good humor, fairly walking on the clouds over the success of histwo first deliveries of the year. But amid the bustle and rush, in viewof another frosty night, Sponsilier inquired if it would not be a goodidea to fortify against the chill, by taking along a bottle of brandy."Yes, two of them if you want to," said old man Don, in good-humoredapproval. "Here, Tom, fork this horse and take the pitch out of him," hecontinued; "I don't like the look of his eye." But before I could reachthe horse, one of my own string, Bob Quirk had mounted him, when intestimony of the nutritive qualities of Dakota's grasses, he arched hisspine like a true Texan and outlined a worm-fence in bucking a circle.

  The start was made during the gathering dusk. Sponsilier furtherlifted the spirits of our employer, as we rode along, by a clear-cutdescription of the opposition cattle, declaring that had they everequaled ours, the handling they had received since leaving Ogalalla,compared to his, would class them with short twos in the spring againstlong threes in the fall. Within an hour the stars shone out, and afterfollowing the river some ten miles, we bore directly north untilBeaver Creek was reached near midnight. The pace was set at about aneight-mile, steady clip, with an occasional halt to tighten cinches orshift saddles. The horses were capable of a faster gait without tiring,but we were not sure of the route and were saving them for the finishafter daybreak. Early in the night we were conscious that a frost wasfalling, and several times Sponsilier inquired if no one cared for a nipfrom his bottle. Bob Quirk started the joke on Dave by declining; oldman Don uncorked the flask, and, after smelling of the contents, handedit back with his thanks. I caught onto their banter, and not wishingto spoil a good jest, also declined, leaving Sponsilier to drink alone.During the night, whenever conversation lagged, some one was certain tomake reference to the remarks which are said to have passed between thegovernors of the Carolinas, or if that failed to provoke a rise, askdirect if no one had something to ward off the chilly air. After beingrefused several times, Dave had thrown the bottle away, meeting thesejests with the reply that he had a private flask, but its quality wassuch that he was afraid of offending our cultivated tastes by asking usto join him.

  Day broke about five in the morning. We had been in the saddle nearlyten hours, and were confident that sunrise would reveal some landmark toidentify our location. The atmosphere was frosty and clear, and once thegray of dawn yielded to the rising sun, the outline of the Yellowstonewas easily traced on our left, while the bluffs in our front shieldeda view of the mother Missouri. In attempting to approach the latter weencountered some rough country and were compelled to turn towards theformer, crossing it, at O'Brien's roadhouse, some seven miles above themouth. The husbanded reserves of our horses were shaken out, and shortlyafterward smoke-clouds from camp-fires, hanging low, attracted ourattention. The herds were soon located as they arose and grazed awayfrom their bed-grounds. The outfits were encamped on the eastern side ofthe Yellowstone; and before leaving the government road, we sighted inour front a flag ascending to greet the morning, and the location ofFort Buford was established. Turning towards the cattle, we rode for thelower wagon and were soon unsaddling at Forrest's camp. The latterhad arrived two days before and visited the post; he told us thatthe opposition were there in force, as well as our own attorneys. Thearrival of the cattle under contract for that military division was themain topic of discussion, and Forrest had even met a number of civilianemployees of Fort Buford whose duties were to look after the governmentbeeves. The foreman of these unenlisted attaches, a Texan named Sanders,had casually ridden past his camp the day before, looking over thecattle, and had pronounced them the finest lot of beeves tendered thegovernment since his connection with that post.

  "That's good news," said Lovell, as he threw his saddle astride thefront wheel of the wagon; "that's the way I like to hear my cattlespoken about. Now, you boys want to make friends with all thosecivilians, and my attorneys and Bob and I will hobnob around with theofficers, and try and win the good will of the entire post. You want tochange your camp every few days and give your cattle good grazing andlet them speak for themselves. Better kill a beef among the outfits, andinsist on all callers staying for meals. We're strangers here, and wewant to make a good impression, and show the public that we were bornwhite, even if we do handle cattle for a living. Quince, tie up thehorses for us, and after breakfast Bob and I will look over the herdsand then ride into Fort Buford.--Trout for breakfast? You don't meanit!"

  It was true, however, and our appetites did them justice. Forrestreported Splann as having arrived a day late, and now encamped t
he lastherd up the valley. Taking our horses with us, Dave and I set outto look up our herds and resume our former positions. I rode throughSponsilier's cattle while en route to my own, and remembered the firstimpression they had made on my mind,--their uniformity in size andsmoothness of build,--and now found them fatted into finished form, theherd being a credit to any drover. Continuing on my way, I interceptedmy own cattle, lying down over hundreds of acres, and so contentedthat I refused to disturb them. Splann reported not over half a dozensore-footed ones among them, having grazed the entire distance fromLittle Missouri, giving the tender cattle a good chance to recover. Iheld a circle of listeners for several hours, in recounting Sponsilier'sand my own experiences in the quarantine camps, and our utter finalfailure, except that the opposition herds had been detained, which wouldforce them to drive over twenty miles a day in order to reach Buford ontime. On the other hand, an incident of more than ordinary moment hadoccurred with the cattle some ten days previous. The slow movement ofthe grazing herds allowed a great amount of freedom to the boys and wastaken advantage of at every opportunity. It seems that on approachingBeaver Creek, Owen Ubery and Runt Pickett had ridden across to it forthe purpose of trout-fishing. They were gone all day, having struck thecreek some ten or twelve miles west of the cattle, expecting to fishdown it and overtake the herds during the evening. But about noon theydiscovered where a wagon had been burned, years before, and near by werefive human skeletons, evidently a family. It was possibly the work ofIndians, or a blizzard, and to prove the discovery, Pickett had broughtin one of the skulls and proposed taking it home with him as a mementoof the drive. Parent objected to having the reminder in the wagon, and arow resulted between them, till Splann interfered and threw the gruesomerelic away.

  The next morning a dozen of us from the three herds rode into the post.Fort Buford was not only a military headquarters, but a supply depotfor other posts farther west on the Missouri and Yellowstone rivers.The nearest railroad connection was Glendive, seventy-six miles up thelatter stream, though steamboats took advantage of freshets in the riverto transport immense supplies from lower points on the Missouri wherethere were rail connections. From Buford westward, transportation waseffected by boats of lighter draft and the regulation wagon train. Itwas recognized as one of the most important supply posts in the West; asearly as five years previous to this date, it had received in a singlesummer as many as ten thousand beeves. Its provision for cavalry wasone of its boasted features, immense stacks of forage flanking thosequarters, while the infantry barracks and officers' quarters were largeand comfortable. A stirring little town had sprung up on the outside,affording the citizens employment in wood and hay contracts, andbecoming the home of a large number of civilian employees, the postbeing the mainstay of the village.

  After settling our quarantine bills, Sponsilier and I each had moneyleft. Our employer refused even to look at our expense bills untilafter the delivery, but urged us to use freely any remaining funds incultivating the good will of the citizens and soldiery alike. Forrestwas accordingly supplied with funds, with the understanding that he wasto hunt up Sanders and his outfit and show them a good time. The beefforeman was soon located in the quartermaster's office, and, having beenconnected with the post for several years, knew the ropes. He had cometo Buford with Texas cattle, and after their delivery had accepteda situation under the acting quartermaster, easily rising to theforemanship through his superior abilities as a cowman. It was like ameeting of long-lost brothers to mingle again with a cow outfit, andthe sutler's bar did a flourishing business during our stay in the post.There were ten men in Sanders's outfit, several of whom besides himselfwere Texans, and before we parted, every rascal had promised to visit usthe next day and look over all the cattle.

  The next morning Bob Quirk put in an early appearance at my wagon. Hehad passed the other outfits, and notified us all to have the cattleunder convenient herd, properly watered in advance, as the postcommandant, quartermaster, and a party of minor officers were going toride out that afternoon and inspect our beeves. Lovell, of course, wouldaccompany them, and Bob reported him as having made a ten-strike withthe officers' mess, not being afraid to spend his money. Fortunately thepresent quartermaster at Buford was a former acquaintance of Lovell,the two having had business transactions. The quartermaster had beenconnected with frontier posts from Fort Clark, Texas, to his presentposition. According to report, the opposition were active and waging anaggressive campaign, but not being Western men, were at a disadvantage.Champagne had flowed freely at a dinner given the night before by ouremployer, during which Senator Aspgrain, in responding to a toast, hadpaid the army a high tribute for the part it had played in reclaimingthe last of our western frontier. The quartermaster, in replying, hadfelicitously remarked, as a matter of his own observation, that theCalifornian's love for a horse was only excelled by the Texan's love fora cow, to which, amid uproarious laughter, old man Don arose and bowedhis acknowledgment.

  My brother changed horses and returned to Sponsilier's wagon. Dave hadplanned to entertain the post beef outfit for dinner, and had insistedon Bob's presence. They arrived at my herd near the middle of theforenoon, and after showing the cattle and remuda, we all returned toSponsilier's camp. These civilian employees furnished their own mounts,and were anxious to buy a number of our best horses after the deliverywas over. Not even a whisper was breathed about any uncertainty of ourfilling the outstanding contract, yet Sanders was given to understandthat Don Lovell would rather, if he took a fancy to him, give a man ahorse than sell him one. Not a word was said about any opposition to ourherds; that would come later, and Sanders and his outfit were too goodjudges of Texas cattle to be misled by any bluster or boastful talk.Sponsilier acted the host, and after dinner unearthed a box of cigars,and we told stories and talked of our homes in the sunny South untilthe arrival of the military party. The herds had been well wateredabout noon and drifted out on the first uplands, and we intercepted thecavalcade before it reached Sponsilier's herd. They were mounted onfine cavalry horses, and the only greeting which passed, aside from amilitary salute, was when Lovell said: "Dave, show these officers yourbeeves. Answer any question they may ask to the best of your ability.Gentlemen, excuse me while you look over the cattle."

  There were about a dozen military men in the party, some of themveterans of the civil war, others having spent their lifetime on ourwestern frontier, while a few were seeing their first year's serviceafter leaving West Point. In looking over the cattle, the post commanderand quartermaster were taken under the wing of Sanders, who, as onlya man could who was born to the occupation, called their attention toevery fine point about the beeves. After spending fully an hour withSponsilier's herd, the cavalcade proceeded on to mine, Lovell rejoiningthe party, but never once attempting to draw out an opinion, and againexcusing himself on reaching my cattle. I continued with the military,answering every one's questions, from the young lieutenant's tothe veteran commandant's, in which I was ably seconded by thequartermaster's foreman. My cattle had a splendid fill on them andeloquently spoke their own praises, yet Sanders lost no opportunity toenter a clincher in their favor. He pointed out beef after beef, andvouched for the pounds net they would dress, called attention to theirsameness in build, ages, and general thrift, until one would havesupposed that he was a salesman instead of a civilian employee.

  My herd was fully ten miles from the post, and it was necessary for themilitary to return that evening. Don Lovell and a number of the boys hadhalted at a distance, and once the inspection was over, we turned androde back to the waiting group of horsemen. On coming up, a number ofthe officers dismounted to shift saddles, preparatory to starting ontheir return, when the quartermaster halted near our employer and said:

  "Colonel Lovell, let me say to you, in all sincerity, that in mytwenty-five years' experience on this frontier, I never saw a finerlot of beeves tendered the government than these of yours. My positionrequires that I should have a fair knowledge of beef cattle, and theperquis
ites of my office in a post of Buford's class enable me to employthe best practical men available to perfect the service. I rememberthe quality of cattle which you delivered four years ago to me at FortRandall, when it was a six-company post, yet they were not as fine a lotof beeves as these are. I have always contended that there was nothingtoo good in my department for the men who uphold the colors of ourcountry, especially on the front line. You have been a soldier yourselfand know that I am talking good horsesense, and I want to say to youthat whatever the outcome of this dispute may be, if yours are the bestcattle, you may count on my support until the drums beat tattoo. Thegovernment is liberal and insists on the best; the rank and file areworthy, and yet we don't always get what is ordered and well paid for.Now, remember, comrade, if this difference comes to an issue, I'm rightbehind you, and we'll stand or be turned down together."

  "Thank you, Colonel," replied Mr. Lovell. "It does seem ratherfortunate, my meeting up with a former business acquaintance, and ata time when I need him bad. If I am successful in delivering on thisBuford award, it will round out, during my fifteen years as a drover,over a hundred thousand cattle that I have sold to the government forits Indian and army departments. There are no secrets in my business;the reason of my success is simple--my cattle were always there on theappointed day, humanely handled, and generally just a shade better thanthe specifications. My home country has the cattle for sale; I can tellwithin two bits a head what it will cost to lay them down here, and it'smusic to my ear to hear you insist on the best. I agree with you thatthe firing-line is entitled to special consideration, yet you know thatthere are ringsters who fatten at the expense of the rank and file. Atpresent I haven't a word to say, but at noon to-morrow I shall tenderthe post commander at Ford Buford, through his quartermaster, tenthousand beeves, as a sub-contractor on the original award to TheWestern Supply Company." The post commander, an elderly, white-hairedofficer, rode over and smilingly said: "Now, look here, my Texas friend,I'm afraid you are borrowing trouble. True enough, there has been aprotest made against our receiving your beeves, and I don't mince mywords in saying that some hard things have been said about you. But wehappen to know something about your reputation and don't give credit forall that is said. Your beeves are an eloquent argument in your favor,and if I were you I wouldn't worry. It is always a good idea in thisWestern country to make a proviso; and unless the unforeseen happens,the quartermaster's cattle foreman will count your beeves to-morrowafternoon; and for the sake of your company, if we keep you a day or twolonger settling up, I don't want to hear you kick. Now, come on and goback with us to the post, as I promised my wife to bring you over to ourhouse this evening. She seems to think that a man from Texas with tenthousand cattle ought to have horns, and I want to show her that she'smistaken. Come on, now, and not a damned word of protest out of you."

  The military party started on their return, accompanied by Lovell. Thecivilian attaches followed at a respectful distance, a number of usjoining them as far as Sponsilier's camp. There we halted, when Sandersinsisted on an explanation of the remarks which had passed between ouremployer and his. Being once more among his own, he felt no delicacyin asking for information--which he would never think of doing with hissuperiors. My brother gave him a true version of the situation, but itremained for Dave Sponsilier to add an outline of the opposition herdsand outfits.

  "With humane treatment," said Dave, "the cattle would have qualifiedunder the specifications. They were bought at Ogalalla, and any of theboys here will tell you that the first one was a good herd. The marketwas all shot to pieces, and they picked them up at their own price. Butthe owners didn't have cow-sense enough to handle the cattle, and putone of their own gang over the herds as superintendent. They left CabinCreek, below Glendive, on the morning of the 10th, and they'll haveto travel nearly twenty miles a day to reach here by noon to-morrow.Sanders, you know that gait will soon kill heavy cattle. The outfitswere made up of short-card men and dance-hall ornaments, wild enough tolook at, but shy on cattle sabe. Just so they showed up bad and wore asix-shooter, that was enough to win a home with Field and Radcliff.If they reach here on time, I'll gamble there ain't ten horses in theentire outfit that don't carry a nigger brand. And when it comes to thebig conversation--well, they've simply got the earth faded."

  It was nearly sundown when we mounted our horses and separated for theday. Bob Quirk returned to the post with the civilians, while I hastenedback to my wagon. I had left orders with Splann to water the herd asecond time during the evening and thus insure an easy night in holdingthe cattle. On my return, they were just grazing out from the river,their front a mile wide, making a pretty picture with the Yellowstonein the background. But as I sat my horse and in retrospect reviewed myconnection with the cattle before me and the prospect of soon severingit, my remuda came over a near-by hill in a swinging trot for theirsecond drink. Levering threw them into the river below the herd, andturning, galloped up to me and breathlessly asked: "Tom, did you seethat dust-cloud up the river? Well, the other cattle are coming. Thetimber cuts off your view from here, besides the sun's gone down, but Iwatched their signal for half an hour from that second hill yonder.Oh, it's cattle all right; I know the sign, even if they are ten milesaway."