The Green River Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “Yes,” said Laura. “Mine especially.”

  “I know,” Dirk said, “and I’ll be especially regretful, them not bein’ there. But there’s no other way we can do it. You’re of age, and by the time they hear about us, you’ll be wearing your ring and you’ll belong to me. Really, I ought to take you to town and buy you a ring so we can be sure it’ll fit, but your pa’s likely to hear of it, and he’ll know we have something in mind.”

  “I’ve thought of that,” April said. “Take this piece of string, wrap it about my finger where the ring should go, and then tie a knot in it. The loop in the string can be used to get a ring that will fit. But please, nothing fancy.”

  “After we’re hitched,” said Dirk, “I aim for us to stay at the Kilgore ranch until we’re ready to start the trail drive.”

  “Why there?” April asked.

  “Because your pa may decide to track you down and take you home,” said Dirk, “and I can’t keep you with me all the time. We have cows and horses to buy. You’ll be safe at the Kilgores’, and legally your Pa can’t force you to leave with him. When we meet here next Monday, bring everything with you that you’ll expect to need, because you won’t be able to go back for a long time. Maybe never. Are you still sure you want to go through with this?”

  “I’m sure,” April said. “Just get here early, so we can take our vows before anything goes wrong. I’ll be waiting, with both my horses.”

  Hating to leave her, Dirk McNelly rode away, headed for town. He really hadn’t lied to his companions about going to town. He just hadn’t told them of the stop he planned to make along the way. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he felt the bit of string that he would need to buy April’s ring.

  The sun had long since gone down, and the first stars were twinkling in purple heavens, when everybody at the Kilgore ranch retired to the parlor. Suddenly there came the sound of approaching horses. Lonnie and Dallas, keeping within the shadows of the hall, went to the front door.

  “Rein up and identify yourselves,” Lonnie said.

  “Gus and Waco, with friends,” Gus said.

  “Come on,” said Lonnie.

  Six riders reined up, dismounted, and left their horses at the hitch rail.

  “We got some gents you and the rest of the outfit need to meet,” Waco said.

  “Then come on in the house where there’s some light,” said Lonnie.

  Lonnie and Dallas led the six men back to the parlor. Willard Kilgore was bringing in chairs from the kitchen.

  “Folks,” said Waco, “these hombres is Sandy Orr, Benjamin Raines, Elliot Graves, and Justin Irwin. You folks that don’t know ’em, I’ll let you do your own introducin’.”

  With a glad cry and tears in her eyes, Becky Holt got to her feet, and one at a time, took their hands.

  “I’m Lonnie Kilgore,” Lonnie said. “Becky and me tied the knot today.”

  “I’m Dallas Weaver,” said Dallas. “Mindy and me just took the same jump.”

  The two of them shook the hands of the four new arrivals.

  “I reckon you all know Mary and me,” Willard Kilgore said.

  “Well,” said Mary, “we know all of you well enough to know you’re probably hungry. There’s plenty of supper left.”

  The cowboys grinned in appreciation.

  “We are a mite hungry, ma’am,” Waco Talley said.

  “Give us a few minutes, then,” said Mary. “Becky, you and Mindy can help me.”

  “We’ll unsaddle our horses, then,” Sandy Orr said. “There’s eight. Is there room in the barn for them all?”

  “Yes,” said Willard Kilgore, “but you’d better take Lonnie with you. There’s an Indian in the hayloft.”

  “My God, not a Comanche, I hope,” Benjamin Raines said.

  “No,” said Willard, “he’s Shoshone, but it’ll take some time for him to get used to you bein’ around.”

  “His name is Wovoka Shatiki,” Lonnie said “He’s a longtime friend of Jim Bridger, and Bridger wanted him with us on this trail drive. Come on. I’ll go with you to stable your horses.”

  “Wovoka,” said Lonnie, before entering the barn, “these are amigos, come to stable their horses.”

  There was no sound from within the barn. Either the Shoshone understood or didn’t want to reveal his position. The men entered the barn, leading their horses. Wovoka still said nothing and made no sound. When the horses were unsaddled and led into the stalls, the men followed Lonnie back to the house.

  “Supper’s ready,” Mary Kilgore announced.

  Gus, Waco, and the four riders they had brought with them washed and dried their hands. The table was large enough to seat them all, with chairs remaining.

  “Dallas and me will join you at the table,” said Lonnie. “We’ll tell you what we aim to do. When you’re done eating, if you have questions, we’ll try to answer them.”

  Before Lonnie said anything else, he and Dallas removed handfuls of double eagles from their pockets. Two of the coins were placed before Gus Wilder and Waco Talley.

  “You already have your back wages,” Lonnie said. “This is a month in advance.”

  Then before each of the four newly arrived riders, Lonnie and Dallas placed eight of the gold coins.

  The four new arrivals looked as though they couldn’t believe it.

  “That’s your back wages, and a month in advance,” said Lonnie.

  “Amigo,” Sandy Orr said, “you’ve just hired yourself some hombres that’ll stay with you until hell freezes, and then skate on the ice.”

  There was immediate agreement from Orr’s three companions, and one by one they leaned across to shake the hands of Lonnie and Dallas.

  “A rider’s coming,” Willard Kilgore said. “I’ll see who it is.”

  Kirby Lowe dismounted, came in, and Lonnie introduced him to the four new riders.

  “I’m glad you fellers joined us,” said Kirby. “All of us bein’ from around here, it’ll be like workin’ with kinfolks.”

  “Dirk McNelly rode to town,” Lonnie said, “and he ought to be back pretty soon. He’s owner of one of our four spreads.”

  “Four?” said Benjamin Raines.

  “Eight sections,” Lonnie said. “Four on each side of the Green River, adjoining one another. Four of us have bought in, and we’ll run it as one ranch.”

  “I’m proud of bein’ part of such an outfit,” said Justin Irwin.

  “We’ve come up against one big problem,” Dallas said. “We’ll need at least two more pack mules and one horse. That’s the least we can get by with.”

  “That’s an almighty skimpy remuda for such a drive,” said Benjamin Raines.

  “I know,” Dallas said. “Each of you gents has two horses, and with the four that we brought back from California, Lonnie, Dirk, Kirby, and me will have extra mounts. But I’ll have to find a horse for Mindy. The old horse she’s been riding is wind-broke.”

  “My God,” said Sandy Orr, “that means none of the ladies nor the Indian will have an extra mount. If one of their horses goes lame, we’re in trouble.”

  “Every man working cattle—especially on a trail drive—needs at least three mounts in his string,” Elliot Graves said, “but I don’t know where in tarnation we’d get the extras. But I do know where we can get a couple of mules. My pa’s giving up farming, and he’s asking a hundred dollars apiece for them.”

  “Tell him we’ll take them,” said Lonnie. “After we’re finished rounding up Becky’s cows, you can take him the money. We’ll need a couple of pack saddles, too.”

  “You’ll likely have to get them in town at the wagon yard,” Sandy Orr said. “Most of the folks owning mules only use ’em to draw a wagon or for plowing.”

  Another rider approached, and Willard Kilgore let Dirk McNelly in.

  “Am I too late for supper?” he asked.

  “No,” said Mary, “there’s plenty. Pull up a chair.”

  “You’re too late for one thing,” Lonnie said. “Whi
le you were gone, we managed to hire the rest of Becky’s old outfit. This is Sandy Orr, Benjamin Raines, Elliot Graves, and Justin Irwin.”

  “I know them,” said Dirk, extending his hand. “Good to have you with us, gents.”

  “We’ve been talking our situation over, Dirk,” Lonnie said. “Elliot can get us a couple of mules from his pa, but we haven’t come up with any horses. Each of these six riders has one extra mount, and the horses we brought back from California can be used as extra mounts for you, Kirby, Dallas, and me. We’ll still need a horse for Mindy.”

  “We’re pushing our luck, having only two horses for each rider,” said Kirby.

  “Give me some time the next Monday morning,” said Dirk, thinking of April Tilden’s second horse. “I think I can come up with that extra horse, and we won’t have to pay.”

  “You ain’t aimin’ to steal one, are you?” Kirby Lowe asked.

  “Hell, no,” said Dirk. “I got some important business to take care of after we’re done with this gather, and if it all works out like I think it will, we’ll have that extra horse.”

  “Don’t spend too much time,” Kirby said. “Remember, Laura and me’s gettin’ hitched.”

  “I know,” said Dirk, “and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll be back here pronto.”

  “I reckon all of you will want to get an early start in the morning,” Mary Kilgore said, “and I have your rooms ready. Sandy, you and Benjamin will share a room, and so will Elliot and Justin. I hope that’s all right. We now have a full house.”

  “That brings back painful memories,” said Gus Wilder. “Last time I had a full house, with a month’s wages ridin’ on it, the varmint across the table from me had a straight diamond flush.”

  The six cowboys followed Mary Kilgore upstairs to be shown their rooms.

  “I’m starting to feel better about this trail drive all the time,” Dallas Weaver said. “We done the right thing, hiring those six riders.”

  “Dallas,” said Mary when she returned to the dining room, “you and Mindy take the first room to the left at the head of the stairs. Lonnie, you and Becky will take the first room on the right, across the hall. Dirk, you and Kirby will be in the room right next to Lonnie and Becky.”

  Dirk laughed. “Will you be sleepin’ tonight, Lonnie? Do we stuff our ears with some cotton?”

  “You’d better stuff some cotton in your ears,” said Lonnie, “and while you’re about it, stuff a handful in your big mouth.”

  Becky and Mindy had remained in the parlor with Willard Kilgore while the cowboys had been discussing business. Both women had heard the exchange between Lonnie and Dirk, and were still blushing when they entered the dining room.

  “Lonnie,” said Willard, “before you rush off to bed, what do you aim for Wovoka to do while the rest of you are gathering a herd?”

  “He can stay in the barn,” Lonnie said. “He won’t be of any use in the gather. Driving cows is squaw work, according to him.”

  “Then see that you talk to him in the morning when you take him his breakfast,” said Willard. “I still don’t think he trusts me.”

  Dirk and Kirby climbed the stairs to the room that had been assigned to them.

  “Enjoy this while you can,” Kirby jibed. “After this week, you’ll never get to sleep with me again.”

  “I ain’t expecting to,” said Dirk. “Not even if you was good-lookin’, which you ain’t.”

  Lonnie and Becky entered their room. Dallas and Mindy entered theirs across the hall.

  “Mindy,” Dallas said after closing the door, “if you’re a mite nervous, we … can wait until you get used to havin’ me around.”

  “We’ll wait only if it bothers you,” said Mindy. “I’ve been waiting since I wasn’t even thirteen. All I ask is that you at least take off your hat, gunbelt, and boots.”

  “Hell, I can do better than that,” Dallas said. And he did.

  Across the hall, Becky sat on the bed while Lonnie struggled to remove his boots.

  “When I was much younger,” said Becky, “I used to wonder what this would be like.”

  “Oh?” Lonnie said. “You don’t wonder anymore?”

  “I never thought the day would come,” said Becky, “so I quit torturing myself and put it out of my mind. Now I’m an old woman. I’ll be twenty-five, my next birthday.”

  “I’ll be twenty-four,” Lonnie said, “and I ain’t even close to bein’ an old man. Give me half an hour, and I’ll prove it to you, unless you aim to set there the rest of the night in your boots, hat, and cowboy duds.”

  Becky laughed. “I’m waiting for you to take them off. If that doesn’t shock you into sleeping in the barn with Wovoka, we’ll go from there.”

  On the Range. July 5, 1853.

  “Wovoka will stay here in the barn,” Lonnie said, after taking the Indian his breakfast. “Becky and Mindy will be here, and Wovoka will be watching the house from the hayloft. He’s been told to fire only warning shots. Pa, if you hear shooting, get out there and see who’s coming. We still may not be rid of old Jess Odens.”

  The ten men mounted and rode out for Becky Holt’s range.

  “Unless the rustlers have cleaned her out, there should be a decent herd,” Gus Wilder said. “There should be three years of natural increase.”

  “No gather for that long?” Lonnie asked.

  “Not since Becky’s ma and pa died,” said Gus. “She had to bury her folks, rebuild the house, and worry about how she could get the money to pay us. We was willing, wages or no wages, to gather some cows and drive them to market some-where. Anywhere. But the girl’s got her pa’s pride, and without the money for such a drive, she wouldn’t do it.”

  “There was the mortgage, too,” Waco said. “She just seemed to lose all hope.”

  “Trouble was,” said Sandy Orr, “there was no place to drive a herd with any hope of gettin’ decent money. Folks in New Mexico, Kansas, Louisiana, Missouri, Arkansas, and Mississippi raise cattle, too. It’d be hell, drivin’ a herd of three-dollar cows hundreds of miles, only to find the local stock going for two dollars a head.”

  “That’s not going to change until a railroad’s in reach,” Lonnie said, “and we don’t know when it will come. Maybe never, if war breaks out between North and South.”

  “That’s another good reason for settling in Utah Territory,” said Elliot Graves. “I’m not of a mind to fight a war started by a bunch of damn politicians. Hell, we ain’t even ten years away from the war with Mexico, and we’d have had to fight it ourselves if it hadn’t been for old Sam Houston forcing the Congress to admit Texas to the Union.”

  The ten riders came within sight of the ranch house and the barn, and there wasn’t any sign of activity. A light breeze blew out of the west, and from somewhere in the distance came the lonesome cawing of a crow.

  “You gents know this range,” Lonnie told Becky’s former cowboys. “If there are any cows, you should have some idea where they’ll be.”

  “Low-lying areas, where there’s some shade and maybe a little water,” said Gus, “and there’s plenty such places on this six hundred and forty acres. Come on.”

  Less than a mile from the house, they came up on a stream where there was no more than a trickle of water. Willows grew along the banks, forming a tunnel of greenery. With Gus Wilder and Waco Talley leading, the ten cowboys entered the dim coolness of the overhanging willows.

  “Yeeeeaaaaha,” Gus shouted. “Yeeeeaaaaha!”

  There was a bawling frenzy as the cattle sought to escape the invaders. Down the stream they ran, breaking through the willows and into the sunlight. Quickly the riders headed them and started them milling. There were twelve of the animals, and none of them were branded.

  “Two-year-olds,” said Justin Irwin. “They’re part of the natural increase.”

  “What are we gonna do with ’em?” Elliot Graves asked. “Soon as we ride on, they’ll be right back among them willows.”

  “That’s n
o problem,” said Lonnie. “We know they’re in there. When we’re finished for the day, we’ll drive what we’ve gathered back to here, and then chase this bunch out to join them. We’ll be watching for some good graze, with water, and that’s where we’ll start bunching them for the night. By the time we’re ready to start the drive, we want all these critters to feel like they’re part of a herd.”

  “All bunched up that way, they’ll be mighty convenient for rustlers,” Gus Wilder said.

  “No,” said Lonnie. “We’re gonna be standing watch, five of us at a time. The first watch until midnight, and the second until dawn.”

  “We should have thought of that sooner and brought some grub,” said Dallas. “The first watch will have a long day and half the night, with no supper.”

  “I have thought of it,” Lonnie said, “and I’m way ahead of you. Ma will have supper ready for the first watch in time for them to ride in, eat, and get back to the herd before dark. Then the second watch rides in, has supper, gets some sleep, and is back here to relieve the first watch at midnight. Next morning, the first watch will have their breakfast and ride back here, so the second watch can ride in and eat.”

  “We’re gonna spend more time ridin’ to and from your pa’s place than rounding up the cows,” said Benjamin Raines. “Why don’t we just get a sackful of jerked beef, some coffee, and a coffeepot, and all of us stay out here until the gather’s done?”

  “It’s just a way for us to have some decent meals before we begin the drive,” Lonnie said. “Save the jerked beef for the long ride to Utah Territory.”

  The ten of them rode on, seeking more cows. Before the day was over, many of the cattle they had rounded up bore Becky’s Circle H brand. They rode well beyond the barn and the deserted ranch house, driving before them the cattle they had gathered during the day. The cowboys bedded them down alongside a creek. It was running low, but there was ample water.

  “Not the best graze in the world, but it’ll get them through tonight,” Lonnie said.