“Damn,” Lonnie grunted. “Fifty of them.”
“Ugh,” said Wovoka. “Horse run, Paiute walk.”
“Good thinking,” Lonnie said. “If we can stampede their horses, it might gain us time enough to get out of Paiute country. But we’ll need more riders.”
“Horse run now,” said Wovoka.
“I see what you mean,” Lonnie said, his eyes on the starry heavens. “We don’t have much time. It’ll be first light in about two hours.”
“Ugh,” said Wovoka. “We go now.”
Taking the reins of their horses, they started, Wovoka in the lead. Lonnie wondered if there had been sentries, but knew better than to ask. If there had been Paiutes on watch, they now lay dead. His and Wovoka’s was a dangerous task. They were far enough from their outfit that if they failed to stampede all the Indian horses, the Paiutes might ride them down, even in the dark. But it was a move just daring enough that the Paiutes might be taken by surprise, for even after their losses, their numbers were far superior to those of the men with many horses and a herd of feo brutes with long horns. Wovoka led the way to the south of the camp. There he paused, taking Lonnie’s arm.
“Leave horse,” Wovoka said.
Lonnie left his horse beside Wovoka’s, hoping neither animal would sense the presence of the Indian horses and nicker a greeting. But it was a risk they had to take, for if they were to successfully stampede the horses of the Paiutes, they needed their own mounts. It was a mystery to Lonnie what Wovoka intended to do, but he followed the Indian’s lead. Wovoka eased in among the grazing horses, going to those nearest the Paiute camp. With calming whispers, he got his left arm around the neck of one of the horses. The animal did not cause any disturbance, and Wovoka repeated the procedure with his right arm around another horse. Slowly he led the two horses several hundred yards south of the Paiute camp. Wovoka’s ability with horses was uncanny, and gritting his teeth, Lonnie set out to follow the Indian’s example, if he could. The stomping of a hoof, a nervous nicker—anything—might alert the sleeping Paiutes, pitting himself and Wovoka against fifty hellraising Indians. Should even one of the horses sound an alarm, it would be all but impossible for Lonnie and Wovoka to reach their mounts and escape. The first horse Lonnie approached raised its head and seemed about to nicker in alarm when Lonnie caught its muzzle. He stroked the animal’s neck until it resumed grazing. Getting his other arm around a second horse wasn’t quite so difficult, and the pair allowed him to lead them slowly southward, until he could see those Wovoka had taken ahead of him. Lonnie fully understood Wovoka’s intentions. Leading the horses as far away as possible would lessen the chance that any of the sleeping Paiutes could capture a horse before all had been stampeded beyond their reach. Such a distance would pretty well assure the inaccuracy of Indian arrows in the dark. Again Lonnie looked at the stars, and it seemed less than an hour to first light. But Wovoka didn’t hurry, and neither did Lonnie. He breathed a long sigh of relief when they finally led away the last of the Paiute horses. But the worst of it wasn’t over. Had there been more riders, stampeding the horses would have been a cinch, but there was only Lonnie and Wovoka. Returning to their own horses, no talk was necessary. Mounting, they circled wide of the Paiute camp, coming in well between it and the grazing horses. Seeking to minimize the noise at the start of the stampede, they doubled their lariats and rode in among the herd, slapping the flanks of the first few horses. Nickering, the animals broke into a gallop, and the stampede was on. Lonnie and Wovoka drew their Colts and began firing over the heads of the running horses. Behind them, they could hear the growing angry clamor among the Paiutes. Since it was all but impossible to reload their Colts in the dark on galloping horses, Lonnie and Wovoka used their doubled lariats as whips, shouting and screeching like demented souls straight from hell. The herd of galloping horses responded accordingly. To Lonnie’s immense relief, they hadn’t scattered, but were galloping on as a herd. It would prevent the Paiutes from catching a few and using them to gather the others. Lonnie and Wovoka spared their horses, slowing them to a slow gallop. Their shouting was enough to keep the stampede going.
“Dear God,” Becky cried, as the night wind brought the sound of distant shots, “the Paiutes are after them.”
“Maybe not,” said Dallas. “I counted a dozen shots. They’re not going to empty their Colts in a single volley when they’d have to reload in the dark.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Becky said, “but I’m still afraid for them. Can’t some of us ride and join them?”
“Lonnie told us all to stay with the herd,” said Mindy.
“You would say that,” Becky snarled. “It’s not your man out there with a damn bunch of bloodthirsty Indians shooting him full of arrows.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” said Mindy.
“Maybe not,” Becky said angrily, “but that’s how it looks to me.”
“Shut up, Becky,” said Waco, “or I’ll turn you over my knee like I used to when you were a snot-nosed kid.”
“If you don’t, I will,” Gus said. “Us yelling at one another won’t change a thing. If we went gallopin’ off in the dark without knowing what’s goin’ on, we might find ourselves in more trouble than Lonnie and Wovoka.”
“I’m sorry, Becky,” said Mindy. “I have all the faith in the world in Lonnie, and just as much in Wovoka. I don’t think either of them will get themselves into anything they’re not able to get out of.”
“All right,” Becky said shortly, “all of you have made your point. I was wrong.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being scared when there’s cause,” said Dallas, “but we’re all a long way from home. We can’t afford the luxury of fighting among ourselves when it gains us nothing. Let’s keep our faith in Lonnie and Wovoka strong. We’re not that far from first light. If we don’t have some word by then, we’ll decide what to do. For now, I think we should obey Lonnie’s orders and begin circling the herd again.”
Even Becky was silent as they mounted their horses and followed Dallas.
Far to the south, as first light brightened the eastern horizon, Wovoka reined up his weary horse. Lonnie reined up beside him.
“Them Paiutes have a long walk ahead of them,” Lonnie said. “You think it’s enough?”
“Sí,” said Wovoka. “Two, maybe three suns.”
“Then let’s get back to the herd,” Lonnie said. “The others may have heard the shooting, and they won’t know if we’re alive or dead.”
“Sí,” said Wovoka. “Much hungry.”
“You’re not by yourself,” Lonnie said. “I think we’ve earned the right to set down to a good breakfast, even if it costs us a couple of hours.”
Wovoka pointed to the west, beyond distant mountains, where dirty gray clouds had lifted their heads above the horizon.
“Tarnation,” said Lonnie, “that’s just what we need. Rain to create enough mud so we can’t move the damn wagon before those Paiutes gather their horses. Come on.”
While they rode back to camp, preparations for breakfast were under way. Nobody had anything to say, for dawn had arrived, and all Becky’s fears seemed justified. Mindy’s sad eyes were on Becky, but she seemed not to notice. The rest of the outfit looked grim. Not one of them wanted to think of life on the Green River range without Lonnie and Wovoka. The August sun already had them sweating when they saw the two horsemen coming. Lonnie and Wovoka trotted their horses along the river. Reining up, they dismounted, and for a moment, nobody spoke. Becky broke the silence, running to Lonnie, tears streaking the dirt on her face. Ignoring it all, Wovoka headed for the wagon, where breakfast had been prepared on the wagon’s tailgate.
“Eat,” said Wovoka.
“Like hell,” Kirby Lowe said. “Not until we find out where you hombres have been all night and what you’ve been up to.”
“Let him eat,” said Lonnie. “He’s earned it. I’ll tell you what a fool thing the both of us did.”
Quickly he told
them of Wovoka’s idea of stampeding the Paiute horses, and how just the two of them had accomplished it.
“So if they attack us,” Waco said, “they’ll be afoot. I don’t expect that, us armed with guns and them with bows and arrows.”
“Neither do I,” said Lonnie, “but from the looks of those clouds over yonder, we may be in for enough rain to muddy the ground so’s we can’t move the wagon. That could hold us up long enough for the Paiutes to round up their horses.”
“I reckon it’s safe to say they’ll be mad as hell,” Gus said.
“There’s only a few things in life that are dead certain,” said Lonnie, “and that’s one of them. Let’s eat and cover as many miles as we can today. Tomorrow, the wagon may be stuck in the mud, and we may all be on the watch for killing-mad Paiutes.”
*Prior to metal cartridges, loads were prepared and paraffin-dipped for waterproofing.
16
With no immediate Indian threat, the outfit enjoyed a good breakfast. It was Mindy’s day on the wagon, and Gus and Waco harnessed the teams. Wovoka had gone to see about his horse that had been lamed the day before, and when he led the animal from the herd, it still limped.
“Tie him behind the wagon,” Lonnie said. “It won’t help him heal if one of the others should kick that sore leg.”
Wovoka nodded, and the rest of the riders looked upon him with approval. Concern for a horse wasn’t characteristic of all Indians. Some simply rode an animal to death, and when it dropped, got another.
“Head ’em up, move ’em out,” Lonnie shouted.
The drag riders bunched the horse remuda close behind the herd, and Mindy followed with the wagon. Gus and Waco were among the drag riders, and when the drive was well under way, the two cowboys rode side by side.
“That was some hell of a thing Lonnie and Wovoka pulled off last night,” said Gus. “I didn’t want to bother everybody with what’s bothering me.”
“But you don’t mind bothering me with it,” Waco said. “I’m obliged.”
“Oh, hell,” said Gus, “don’t lay that ‘hurt feelings’ act on me. We been together just too long.”
“Then tell me what kind of burr you got under your tail,” Waco said. “It might be the same thing that’s botherin’ me some.”
“So far,” said Gus, “we’ve had a clash with maybe sixty Paiutes. I’ve never been in any situation involvin’ hostiles when there was so few of them. Where do you reckon the rest of the tribe is?”
“Since we ain’t run into ’em,” Waco said, “I reckon they’re somewhere ahead of us. I’d say something to Lonnie, but it might prove embarrassing. I just don’t believe him or any of the others is green enough to believe we’re done with the Paiutes.”
“We’d better wait until tonight,” said Gus. “Lonnie believes there may be Paiute trouble until we’re out of New Mexico, and that’s another four days at least, even if we ain’t slowed up by rain and mud.”
Wovoka rode ahead of the herd with Lonnie, and there was no sign of Indians. After bunching the herd for the night, while they waited for supper, Lonnie spoke to them.
“I reckon we’d be foolin’ ourselves thinking we’re rid of the Paiutes. We’ll have to be constantly watching, because we don’t know how many of them are in the territory. They may be behind us, or Somewhere ahead of us. Don’t expect to get much sleep for the next four nights. We’ll all be in the saddle.”
They ate a silent supper, for clouding the minds of each of them was the grim possibility that they might yet face even greater numbers of Paiutes. Jagged shards of golden lightning romped grandly across the western horizon, white a cooling west wind brought with it the pungent smell of rain. After supper, although it wasn’t quite dark, the riders began saddling their horses. The lightning was visible more often now, and thunder rumbled away into silence, only to rise to greater heights. Already the longhorns had begun to mill uneasily, and some of the horses had begun nickering. It was Wovoka who rode among the horses, ruffling their manes, speaking to them in some strange tongue only they seemed to understand. Slowly they settled down, but not the herd of longhorns. One bawled as though setting the tone, and others joined in, creating a grim, melancholy chorus.
“Sing to the varmints!” Lonnie shouted.
Kirby and Dirk began their off-key version of a bawdy song unfit for female ears, but such was their predicament that nobody seemed to notice or care. Lonnie, Dallas, Gus, and Waco had worked their way beyond the horse herd, for if there was a stampede, it surely would be away from the storm, along the back trail. It was the most dangerous position, for if a rider’s horse fell or threw him, he might be trampled to death. The possibilities of such a tragedy were not lost on the rest of the outfit. The other riders—including Becky, Mindy, Laura, and April—were riding in the direction they expected the herd to run.
“No,” Lonnie shouted, waving his hat. But the rising wind whipped his voice away.
Thunder rumbled closer, and gray sheets of rain rode in on the wind. The horses, as well as the longhorns, had their backs to the storm, wanting to drift with it. Wovoka did his best, but the horses were becoming more and more difficult to control because of the pushing and shoving of the uneasy longhorns. Suddenly thunder shook the earth, and some of the horses broke away to the southeast. The direction was totally unexpected, and none of the riders were able to head the leaders. There was an explosion and a flash of light as lightning struck a huge boulder almost directly ahead of the stampeding horses. Shards of rock—like shrapnel—struck the lead horses, sending them rearing and screaming. Horseshoe fashion, they turned, galloping back the way they had come, into the face of the wind and rain. The frightened longhorns followed. With Wovoka in the lead, the riders began to head the lead horses, and soon the entire mass of horses and longhorns milled about, confused. The thunder receded and the lightning died away to an occasional flicker, the worst of the storm having passed. It took some doing, in darkness and pouring rain, but slowly the riders were able to separate the horses and longhorns. Finally all the animals settled down. Riders slid out of their saddles, leaning against their horses, exhausted.
“This would be a damn good time for the Paiutes to attack,” said Dirk wearily.
“How’d you like to have your throat cut with a dull knife?” Kirby snarled.
The rain soon ceased, but the wind remained brisk, and with their wet clothing, every rider’s teeth chattered with cold.
“Somebody get some wood from the wagon’s possum belly,” said Lonnie, “and let’s get some coffee started.”
“What about the Paiutes?” Mindy asked.
“Damn the Paiutes,” said Dallas. “We’ll fight the bastards when they show up. Get that coffee brewing.”
“Horse hurt,” Wovoka said, when he led one of the horses near the fire.
There was blood on the animal’s chest and legs, obviously from the particles of rock flung by the lightning.
“Check the others out, Wovoka,” said Lonnie, “and lead them near the fire, one at a time. Becky, bring me a tin of sulfur salve from the medicine chest.”
“They’ll heal,” Dallas said. “Blowflies shouldn’t be a problem at this altitude.”
“We’ll doctor them anyway,” said Lonnie. “It’ll be a miracle if some of them aren’t blinded.”
Lonnie smeared sulfur salve on the wounds as Wovoka led the horses near the fire. Of the five horses, none was seriously injured. Once the riders had finished off two pots of hot coffee, they saddled up and again began circling the herd. The wind had died, and its absence took the chill out of the night. As their clothing began to dry, the spirits of the outfit rose considerably. An unexpected quirk of fate had spared them a stampede, with the dreaded lightning heading and confusing the herd. The sky had cleared, and the expanse of purple glittered with millions of distant stars.
“Two o’clock,” Lonnie said. “Where’s Wovoka?”
“I got no idea,” said Dallas. “Last time I saw him was when he led t
hose horses in for doctoring.”
Lonnie spoke to all the riders, and none of them knew what had become of Wovoka.
“He’s likely out scouting,” Waco said. “I reckon he heard us wondering if there was more of them Paiutes that might come looking for us.”
“Maybe you’re right,” said Lonnie. “He moves in the dark like a shadow.”
But Lonnie grew increasingly anxious, for it was almost two hours before Wovoka returned. Like a phantom, he stepped out of the shadows, silencing Lonnie with the touch of his hand. Wovoka spoke softly.
“Many Paiute come.”
“How many?” Lonnie asked anxiously, “and where are they?”
Wovoka said nothing, raising his right hand over his head and moving it in a circle. It was a single answer to both Lonnie’s questions. There were enough Paiutes to surround them. Dallas and Waco stood behind Lonnie and, having heard his questions, fully understood Wovoka’s answer. Dallas whistled long and low.
“We’re in for it,” said Waco. “I reckon the number ain’t important, if there’s enough of them to surround us.”
“We have maybe an hour until first light, to convince them our medicine’s stronger than theirs,” Lonnie said. “Wovoka, watch them as close as you can without them knowing. Dallas, you and Waco get back to the herd, and I’ll join you in a few minutes. There may be a chance for us. Tell Becky, Mindy, April, and Laura I want to see them at the wagon, pronto.”
Wovoka had already vanished in the darkness, and without question, Dallas and Waco returned to the herd. Dallas told Mindy only that Lonnie wanted the four women to come to the wagon. It would be up to Lonnie to tell them of the growing danger and to set them to whatever task he had in mind. The four of them picketed their horses, and when they approached the wagon on foot, Lonnie spoke quietly, repeating what Wovoka had told him.
The Green River Trail Page 24
