The Green River Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “This conversation’s gone far enough,” said Lonnie. “First watch, mount up.”

  *The Studebaker brothers began building wagons in 1839.

  6

  On the Trail. July 21, 1853.

  Their first night on the trail was peaceful. The herd, for all its activity during the day, was tired. So were the riders. Well before sunup, the outfit was again ready to move out.

  “Head ’em up, move ’em out,” Lonnie shouted.

  Again Wovoka rode beside Lonnie at point. It was Mindy’s turn on the wagon box, and Dallas looked back occasionally to see that she was all right. The dust was so thick, the oncoming wagon was just a dim shape in the distance. But Mindy was purposely staying far enough behind the drag riders to allow them time to head any bunch-quitters before the longhorns came face-to-face with the mules, as they had done the day before. By late afternoon, a bank of dirty gray clouds had spread across the western horizon. Occasionally jagged fingers of lightning galloped across the sky. The riders were aware of it, but there was nothing they could do except push on. Foremost in their minds was the fact that, on the plains, a man on a horse was almost always a target for lightning.*

  “Looks like we’re all going to get a bath,” Becky said.

  Becky, April, and Laura, seeking to escape some of the dust that enveloped the drag riders, had dropped back to ride alongside the wagon.

  The gathering storm didn’t seem any closer, and though sundown was an hour away, Lonnie gave the signal to mill the herd. There was water and some graze, which they just might not be fortunate enough to find before dark if they pushed on. The day had been typically hot. All the animals and riders were drenched with sweat. Mindy reined up the teams near the creek. Dallas Weaver and Kirby Lowe unharnessed the teams. Once the riders had unsaddled their horses, Justin Irwin gathered wood and started the supper fire.

  “After supper, before dark,” Lonnie said, “some of us ought to gather some dry wood and fill the possum belly beneath the wagon.* Then if it rains all night, we’ll still have the dry wood for our breakfast fire.”

  “Amen to that,” said Benjamin Raines. “A man can stand anything as long as there’s a pot of hot coffee to chase the chill out of his bones.”

  But it seemed more and more likely that the storm would blow itself out before reaching them. While the daggers of golden lightning had become more intense, the cloud bank didn’t seem to have advanced.

  “Feel the air,” Gus Wilder said. “It may be a hundred miles away, but she’s raining mighty hard over yonder to the west.”

  The wind, out of the west, had become a cooling breeze.

  “As long as there’s a chance of a storm,” Lonnie said, “nobody takes off anything but his hat. Keep your horses picketed close by.”

  But the lightning remained distant, and only a few drops of rain fell. Finally there was no more lightning, and the threat of a storm was past. The second watch had just mounted their horses, and Becky was riding beside Lonnie.

  “I was kind of hoping we’d have some rain,” said Becky. “After a week of this. I’ll be smelling so bad, you won’t come near me.”

  Lonnie laughed. “No problem. I’ll be smelling just as bad, or worse. We’ll cancel one another out.”

  “How far do you think we’ve come, today and yesterday?” Becky asked.

  “Not more than twenty miles, if that far,” said Lonnie. “We’ll be lucky to average ten a day, until these critters get the idea they’re a herd, and stop galloping down the back trail.”

  On the other side of the herd, Mindy rode alongside Dallas, neither of them speaking.

  “You’ve been mighty quiet,” Dallas said. “Are you already homesick?”

  “Maybe a little,” said Mindy, “when I remember back to the days when Ma was alive. I have no good memories after she was gone.”

  “Not even me?” Dallas teased.

  “Not yet,” said Mindy. “I sort of … put the trail drive out of my mind. All I thought of was how different it was going to be with you beside me all the time. By that I mean I wasn’t expecting you to be on your horse and me on mine, and our only other time with the rest of the outfit at mealtime.”

  Dallas laughed. “Oh? You mean man and wife time.”

  “Yes.” She was glad it was dark so he couldn’t see her blush.

  “I thought we got off to a good start back at the Kilgore ranch,” said Dallas.

  “We did,” Mindy agreed, “but there seems to be no time or place during this trail drive.”

  “I reckon you’re right about that,” said Dallas. “We can’t get too far from the herd, in case the critters get spooked and decide to run. Another good reason why we must all stay close by is that Comanches might sneak up and slit our throats. When we’re out of Texas, that won’t change anything. We’ll still have the Paiutes to contend with. While we’re on the subject, do Becky, April, and Laura feel as neglected as you?”

  “I don’t know,” Mindy said. “We don’t talk about … such things.”

  “Maybe you should,” said Dallas. “You’re all in the same boat until we reach the Green River range.”

  On the Trail. July 22, 1853.

  Their third day on the trail, the herd began to settle down. There were fewer bunch-quitters, and the drag riders were able to keep the ranks closed with little effort. By the end of the day, the outfit was optimistic.

  “A good day,” said Elliot Graves. “Another good one tomorrow should take us at least halfway to the Pecos.”

  “Since we’re going almost through Santa Fe,” Becky said, “can we afford to stop at a store?”

  “Maybe,” said Lonnie, “but I can’t see that we’ve overlooked anything. What do you have in mind?”

  “Some dried apples for making pies,” Becky said.

  “Damn right,” shouted Kirby Lowe. “Sell a few cows if we have to.”

  There were enthusiastic shouts from the rest of the outfit. Dried apple pies was one of the few sweets that men on the trail could enjoy. Range cooks willing and able to prepare them were treasured.

  Lonnie laughed. “You’ll get no argument out of me, but you’d better get all the dried apples you can get into the wagon. Once you feed a cow nurse dried apple pie, he’ll want it every day. I reckon Wovoka could eat a dozen.”

  “I wish we had some right now,” said Dallas. “We’re still a hell of a long way south of Santa Fe.”

  “Gents,” Lonnie said, “we’ll be nearing Del Rio pretty soon. I know it’s nothing but a wide place in the trail, but I think we ought to be sure there’s no trouble awaiting us between here and there. Do any of you know the country?”

  “I do,” said Justin Irwin. “I was there just after the war, and already the Mejicanos had started violating their treaty, crossing into Texas for horses and cows. I’d be willing to bet my saddle they ain’t changed their ways. Wasn’t more than fifteen or twenty people in all of Del Rio.”*

  “You’ve been there, Justin,” Lonnie said. “Why don’t you take Wovoka with you and scout ahead, all the way to the Pecos? Watch carefully for the tracks of shod and unshod horses, paying particular notice to where they’re coming from and where they’re going.”

  “I’ll start out in the morning,” Justin said. “I can also judge how far it is to the next water, as we travel toward the Pecos.”

  “Bueno,” said Lonnie.

  On the Trail. July 23, 1853.

  The next afternoon, Justin Irwin and Wovoka reached the Pecos River. There was a shallows that they immediately recognized as a crossing, for there were many tracks of shod horses, all of them leading south. Justin followed until they were certain the riders were headed straight for the border. Del Rio had one saloon and a general store. Struck by inspiration, Justin pointed to the store. Wovoka chose to remain with the horses while Justin went into the store. The storekeeper stared at him in what amounted to surprise.

  “You got any dried apples?” Justin asked.

  “Maybe twenty pounds,
” said the storekeeper. “How much do you want?”

  “All of them,” Justin said, “and wrap them well.”

  As Justin was leaving the store, a Mejicano rode up and dismounted. Tying his reins to the hitch rail, he ignored Wovoka and went on into the store. The man had gone to great lengths to ignore Justin as well, and that aroused immediate suspicion in Justin’s mind. He and Wovoka started back the way they had come, and as soon as they were well away from Del Rio and the border, they reined up their horses under cover of some brush. The Indian’s keen eyes were first to detect a thin tendril of dust to the south, well after their own dust had settled.

  “One hombre follow,” Wovoka said.

  “So that’s how it is,” said Justin softly. “Let the varmints come on. We’ll be ready.”

  Justin and Wovoka were almost thirty miles from the crossing at Del Rio when they were able to see the trail drive coming. They wheeled their horses and rode beside Lonnie when they reached the point position. Justin quickly related what they had learned.

  “So they may jump us within the next two or three days,” Lonnie said.

  “I think so,” said Irwin. “From the shod tracks crossing the border, I’d say this bunch does a pretty good business stealing horses and cows in Texas.”

  “That’s good thinking,” Lonnie said. “You and Wovoka may have just saved our bacon. What do you have in the flour sack?”

  Irwin laughed. “Twenty pounds of dried apples. If I can sneak them into the wagon, the ladies can surprise us all at supper tonight.”

  “Bueno” said Lonnie. “How much did you pay for them?”

  “Ten dollars,” Irwin said. “Consider it my contribution to the trail drive.”

  Justin Irwin rode wide of the herd and the rest of the riders, for he would be returning to the drag position. But instead of stopping there, he rode on to meet the wagon. Becky was again at the reins, and she looked at him, a question in her eyes. Justin rode close, dropping the sack of dried apples at her feet.

  “Dried apples,” said Justin. “I reckon you’ll know what to do with ‘em.”

  “I know,” Becky said, “and there’ll be an extra pie for you.”

  Lonnie waited until the herd had been bedded down for the night and preparations for supper were under way before calling the outfit together to hear what Justin Irwin had to say. Quickly, he told them, Wovoka nodding occasionally in agreement.

  “What about water between here and the Pecos?” Dallas asked.

  “Two more creeks,” said Irwin. “Graze ain’t nothin’ to get excited about, but it’ll get us through a night or two.”

  “I reckon we’d better plan on fightin’ a bunch of Mexican outlaws,” Kirby Lowe said.

  “We’re going to, as soon as we know where they are,” said Lonnie. “Justin, I’d like for you and Wovoka to scout ahead for the next several days. Just be sure that you don’t get too close. These are the kind of varmints that will ambush us.”

  “They must know we’re aiming to trail the herd north along the Pecos,” Irwin said, “so they’ll be holed up somewhere this side of the river. Wovoka and me will find them.”

  Preparations for supper seemed to be taking an unusually long time. Instead of one fire there were two. Becky, April, and Laura worked at the larger one, while Mindy hung one of the coffeepots over the lesser fire. Dallas spoke.

  “What’s holdin’ up supper? I’m hungry enough to eat a longhorn cow raw.”

  “I reckon it’s something that’ll be worth waiting for,” said Mindy. “Just wait and see.”

  Despite the threat of a fight with Mexican outlaws hanging over their heads, the outfit thoroughly enjoyed the unexpected treat. Wovoka ate four pies, beaming his approval.

  “Thank Justin,” Becky said, when she was complimented. “He brought the apples.”

  “Justin, you can scout for us anytime,” said Dirk McNelly.

  Supper was a jovial affair, but the outfit was somber as the first watch saddled up.

  “I doubt they’ll hit us so far from the border,” Lonnie said, “but we can’t afford not to be ready. When you’re sleeping, keep your horses picketed and your guns handy.”

  The first watch began circling the herd, while those on the second watch rolled in their blankets to get as much sleep as they could.

  “Lonnie,” said Becky, “are you asleep?”

  “No,” he said, turning over to face her in the darkness.

  “Do you really think they’ll attack us during the night?” she asked.

  “No,” said Lonnie, “but a wrong guess could hurt us, so we must be ready. I’m expecting them to lay an ambush somewhere between here and the Pecos. If Justin and Wovoka can find it, we’ll go after them before they come after us.”

  “I’m sorry we have to travel so near the border,” Becky said.

  “So am I,” said Lonnie, “but by following the Pecos, we’ll have sure water all the way to Santa Fe. We have a good outfit.”

  “I’m just finding that out,” Becky said. “Despite all the years I’ve been around those men who used to ride for me, I feel like I’m getting to know them for the first time. Justin really surprised me, and not just with the dried apples.”

  “I’m truly glad the six of them are with us,” said Lonnie. ‘Honest-to-God Texans have always ridden, lived, and died or their outfit. These men are no different.”

  “I’m glad Wovoka’s with us, too,” Becky said, “although we may go broke feeding him. He had four pies, double everything else, and still looked hungry.”

  Lonnie laughed. “I don’t remember ever seeing a fat Indian.”

  “You just may see one before we reach Utah,” said Becky.

  Lonnie saw to it that the supper fires had been put out well before dark. He spoke to the first watch as they mounted their horses.

  “If there’s a bunch of thieves waiting for us, I expect them to lay a daylight ambush. But we can’t be too careful. If you see or hear anything unusual, don’t hesitate to call for help. But don’t fire unless you have to. A muzzle flash makes an almighty fine target.”

  April and Laura were saddling their horses to ride with Dirk and Kirby.

  “No talking,” Lonnie said. “There’s no wind, and the smallest sound might be heard a mile away.”

  When the second watch took over at midnight, all seemed calm. Suddenly, just ahead of Lonnie, Wovoka reined up, listening. Lonnie reined up, too, but heard nothing. In an instant, the Indian was off his horse and running toward a thicket. From within it came the roar of a gun, the lead tugging at the sleeve of Wovoka’s deer-hide shirt. But there was no time for the unseen adversary to fire a second time. Wovoka drew his Colt, and like the rolling of thunder, fired three times. There was the distinctive sound of a body crashing into surrounding brush. Then there was only silence.

  “By God, Wovoka got him,” Elliot Graves said. “That’ll show ‘em.”

  “It’ll show ’em we’re wise to what they have in mind,” said Dallas. “They likely sent this one coyote to take our measure.”

  “I reckon you’re right,” Lonnie said, “but there’s no help for it now. Even if they’re too far away to have heard the shooting, they’ll know we’ve dealt them a bad hand when this warmint in the thicket doesn’t come back. Come first light, we’ll go in after him.”

  The rest of the night was peaceful. At first light, Justin Irwin and Dallas Weaver went into the thicket to see just how effective Wovoka’s shooting had been. They soon returned carrying the dead man. He had been hit twice.

  “This looks an almighty lot like the Mejicano Wovoka and me saw in Del Rio,” Justin said. “What do you think, Wovoka? Is he the same hombre?”

  “Sí,” said the Indian, pointing toward an ugly scar that ran along the dead man’s left jawbone.

  “Wovoka would make a good Pinkerton man,” Dallas said.

  “I reckon he would,” said Justin. “We only saw the Mex for a few seconds in Del Rio, and I don’t recall seeing the scar.”


  “There’s one possibility we haven’t considered,” Lonnie said. “If this coyote followed Justin and Wovoka on his own, the gang he rides with—assuming there is one—won’t be aware of us. We still might get by without fighting.”

  “I bleed just like the gent Wovoka shot last night,” said Kirby Lowe, “so I just ain’t anxious for a gunfight, and the best way to avoid one is to be ready. I say we go on, still expecting that ambush. If it don’t come, so much the better, but if it does, we won’t be caught with our britches down.”

  “That’s exactly right,” Lonnie said. “While we’re not absolutely sure this varmint had time to alert the rest of his outfit to us, we can’t afford to gamble that he didn’t. We’ll go on expecting an ambush until we’re well past Del Rio and are on our way north. Justin, after breakfast, I want you and Wovoka to scout at least fifteen miles ahead, with an eye toward a position where a bunch of killers might hole up with long guns and cut down on us.”

  “I think they’ll wait until we’re closer to the border,” Dallas said, “which would be the day after tomorrow, but we can’t risk that. After riding fifteen miles, suppose Wovoka and Justin split up and didn’t allow themselves to be seen in Del Rio? They might then ride along the river, looking for fresh tracks.”

  “I’d say it’s worth doing,” Lonnie said, “unless Wovoka and Justin come up with something within the next fifteen miles. If there’s no ambush tomorrow, the bunch will need some time to get into position. It might be possible to find out whether they’ve already crossed the river. I think the herd’s trailwise enough for us to step up the gait. If we can make fifteen miles today and fifteen tomorrow, that’ll take us away from Del Rio and the border.”

  “Bueno,” said Justin. “We’re not more than thirty miles from the river now. I think if Wovoka and me ride on to the Pecos, we ought to stay there for a while after dark. Mex bandits know they’re not welcome on the Texas side of the river, and they might not risk crossing in daylight.”