CHAPTER 7
The first train pulled out for St. Louis three days later. More cars were coming, Williams said. The trains weren’t very busy yet because of the slow war recovery and, besides, you could only fit so many longhorns in a cattle car. But they were busy each day filling cars and sending them east. With all the men he had hired to drive them downtown, the operation went smoothly as another engine puffing smoke went on out to St. Louie.
In ten days they’d be gone—maybe less.
The next morning Sheriff Harris showed up at the depot and Harp wondered what he wanted. He was seated at a desk the tellers used.
“Something wrong?” Harp asked.
“The governor is sending state police to stop you from loading the trains.”
Harp blinked at him. “When will they get here?”
“Two days I figure.”
“Do what you can to stop them. I will pay for your protection.”
“What if I can’t? They overrule me.”
“I will go see Williams. He must have some pull to stop it.”
“I never thought about him.”
“He’s staying at the Grand Hotel. I’ll go do that now.”
“I will, meanwhile, do what I can.”
“Thanks, Harris. I will pay you for your troubles.” He realized Harris was the only one not getting bucks for helping. Oh, hell, he had warned him.
He found Williams in the restaurant having a late breakfast.
He looked up at Harp. “Sit down, Texas.” Between bites of eggs he asked, “What’s on your mind?”
“They say the governor has sent some police down here to stop our sale of cattle.”
“How?”
“The legislature passed a law no Texas cattle are allowed in Missouri.”
“I will wire him to stop them. He will do that. He does not understand the problems we have getting meat. I will wire him when I get through with breakfast. Now if I can get river barges moving, is there some place I can get boats close to your cattle?”
“I had not considered it, sir.”
“Start your brain working on a port down where you could get cattle to.”
“I will do that.”
“Meantime don’t worry. Keep loading cattle.”
“Thank you.” Relieved, he left the man and headed for the depot where they were loading cars. The crew was penning the next shipment when he rode up. Chaw was in charge, and between mules and horse riders things looked under control.
Long came riding in a few minutes later and dismounted. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, the governor is sending the state police to stop us from loading steers.”
“Hell. What did you do?”
“I sicced the biggest meatpacker in Missouri, Williams, on him. He told me not to worry he would stop him.”
“Well thank God for him. We’ll be through in a week if the cattle cars keep coming.”
“I am ready to be done now.”
“It has been a hell of an adventure. What are we going to do next?”
“Williams wants us to think of ways to deliver cattle to him at a boat port.” Harp shook his head on the notion.
“Oh, you’d have to go through the damn swamps in Louisiana.”
“Not me. But we need to figure out a way to sell more cattle. There damn sure is no money in Texas like what we did here. Railroads will be building more tracks now the war is over. Maybe somewhere west we can find a new shipping point. I don’t aim to buck this route again.”
“But we learned a lot.”
“Oh, hell, lots and lots about trailing cattle.”
“Harp, you are the money man. How much do you see this deal making?”
“Before all our expenses, we’ll take in over sixty thousand dollars.”
“That was my count. They sell steers like that for ten bucks or less in Texas.”
“They won’t for long, after word gets out, but they haven’t drove them north yet, either.”
Long rested his butt against the depot fence and shook his head. “And there’s still thousands of unbranded stock left down there to round up.”
About then an angry steer blowing snot butted the fence with his head right beside him. Long jumped away and looked back. “Easy, guy, you will be roast beef in a short while.”
Everyone in the area laughed.
The two walked into the depot and the banker’s men were at the desk.
“Morning. Whose cattle go today?” Harp asked them.
“John Paterson. He bought two carloads. Then four others and we start tomorrow loading Mr. Williams’s cattle.”
“Money is coming through?”
“No hitches so far, sir.”
“You men do good work.”
“Thanks; we try. Will you bring any more cattle up here?”
Harp shook his head. “Missouri doesn’t want me to.”
The older of the two young men, Oren Spalding, shook his head. “Pretty dumb. Besides the men you’ve hired and the things you’ve bought and the railroad business, they are going to miss out on lots of money.”
“That’s the way they want it. That empty farmland we crossed and grazed getting up here, now the war is over, will fill in fast. Be too many people in the land to bring herds of cattle through.”
“What’s it like in Texas?”
“No jobs. No money. We hear from our letters that they set up an occupational government and disbanded the people saving folks’ lives—the rangers—out on the western fringe from the Comanche.”
“Well, we do appreciate you twos’ efforts. A little cow shit on our shoes is not hurting anyone.”
“Good.”
They left the depot and agreed to meet in camp later. Harp said he’d stay around town to see if they turned the governor’s enforcer away.
Long went and mounted his horse. “See you, bro.”
“You bet.”
In his mail was a letter addressed to them from Emory’s wife, Anna.
Dear Men,
You two have done a wonderful job. I am of course saddened by his death. He was a generous father to our children and a grand husband to me. To be taken so young from us is a tragedy. But you two have done a wonderful job and thank God. Be careful coming home. Even Texas has turned into a lawless place and people are being robbed and killed every day. I shall pray for your safe return.
Sincerely yours,
Anna Greg
Harp thought about Emory’s wife. Anna was an attractive woman with three children. He didn’t need a wife and family. But she would be well to do until she found someone and chose a suitable husband. He knew Long would not be interested in her, either.
Women were simply not his thing. Well, he’d been sweet on Sally Graham, but she told him she couldn’t wait for him to decide and married Clarence Ward. A widower fifteen years older than her who had a ranch and a short leg, so he never was drafted.
Harp felt he had plenty of time to find a wife. Now he needed to make more money to build a ranch and make a place in Texas for himself and Long. He wished he knew a gypsy who could tell him his future fortune. Otherwise he’d have to make it up as he went along.
* * *
Two days later the head of the Missouri State Police arrived with a telegram in hand that ordered the police to suspend all operations against Harp and the Texas cattle. Due to the food shortages caused by the war, the public needed the beef.
The man was not happy about his new instructions and openly told Long O’Malley that if they ever again brought Texas beef to Missouri he’d personally shoot them.
Long thanked him for the warning, then went about his business and later reported the comments to his brother.
“Nice guy,” Harp commented.
The last Texas steer was poked onto the car on Thursday and the door slid shut on him. Williams was there and thanked them. He reminded Harp about his promise to find him a way to ship cattle by barge. They shook hands.
“I will look into i
t. I promise.”
Harp and the banker Edmonson went over his figures:
780 steers @ $80 = $62,400
Cattle partners’ owed half value, 390 head, after expenses
Emory’s bank debt at home, $1,500
Sedalia hired crew, $750 at 30 bucks a head
Pasture, $100
Sheriff fee, $50
Schoolhouse rent, $30
Banking fee, $300
Misc. expenses, $50
Supplies for trip home, $800
Owed Hiram O’Malley for 25 horses and use of his steer, $1,000
Crew of nine paid $100 apiece
Amount left $56,920
Half to partners = $28,460
Harp looked up hard under the lamplight at his brother. “If we split it in half with her, our part is just over fourteen thousand dollars.”
Long simply shook his head in dismay. “I knew we were in for some big bucks, but I had no idea it would be that much money.”
“I didn’t include his tombstone. I’ll pay for it out of our share.”
“How do we get that much cash home to Texas and not get robbed?” Long asked.
“Edmonson, at the bank, says they have this outfit who will transfer the money to a bank at home with no danger of losing any.”
“Are they sure it will get there?”
“He says people do it all the time and they are bonded.”
“If they can’t steal it, then let’s do that.”
Harp made a face about the expense. “The service costs money. Two fifty for that much money.”
“Ha. Better to let them get it there than us have to worry about it and get killed carrying it ourselves going home.”
“I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“You’ll keep out our expenses to go home on?”
Harp nodded. “I charged that as our food going home from the settlement.”
Long reached over and clapped him on the shoulder. “Bro, we’ve done won the first war didn’t we?”
“I’ll say yes when we get home alive. We’ve had a pretty interesting trip up here.”
“Oh, we’ll make the trip home easy. Them boys are all in town tonight raising hell and chasing wild women. Just hope they’re going to be sober enough to drive home tomorrow.”
“They will moan and groan a lot.”
“Long, when you and I signed on as Greg’s cowboys, we were still kids going on a big adventure. I think we both grew up and both of us did a man-size job for Missus Greg.”
His brother nodded. “We did. You settle that bank thing. Let them boys have their fun and we go home tomorrow as planned.”
“Damn good idea.”
They left Sedalia for Texas with red paint on both wagons that said O’MALLEY BROTHERS LAND AND CATTLE COMPANY, CAMP VERDE, TEXAS.
Scratching his new haircut riding next to Harp, Chaw asked, “Where’s the damn land part at?”
“We are going to buy some when we get home,” Harp told him.
Chaw was not the last man to ask about the land part. A storekeeper in a white apron, leaning on a broom handle on his porch in Cassville, asked them the same question.
Harp climbed the steps and looked back at the wagons. “Oh, near Camp Verde. Come by. I’ll feed you if I am at home.”
“I’ll bet you would, cowboy. What do you need?”
“Salt pork if you have any. A short barrel of flour and brown beans.”
“Got navy beans, no brown ones, sorry.”
“Hey we aren’t sailors, we’re cowboys. Cowboys eat frijoles. I’ll try farther south.”
“There’s less down there than is up here.”
“Maybe so. I guess I’ll find out along the way. How much do I owe you?”
“Five bucks.”
“Put a dollar’s worth of hard candy in that order. I bet you don’t have any good coffee, either?”
The man shook his head, finishing his sweeping. “I have some tea bricks. I ain’t had any coffee, good or bad, in eighteen months. Where you coming from?”
“Sedalia. We sold the herd we drug up here.”
“I won’t tell anyone about that. Folks been losing cows to Texas tick fever ever since then.”
“Sorry about that. I’ll keep it to myself.” He paid the man, got his goods, and left.
He later told Long and the crew not to talk about their drive anymore until they got home. A few days later they stopped to shoe some sore-footed horses at Fayetteville, Arkansas, camping below the city square. The local blacksmith named Handy Jones and the men all pitched in and shod the horses. Jones was grateful for the cash business and asked them how it went going up there since he had heard about the drive.
Long told him privately that it went well but they didn’t want it out that they broke the law going there. Jones agreed to keep it quiet.
Harp met a pretty girl in a woman’s dress shop when he went in looking for a present for their mother. Something she could wear. The girl’s name was Heidi Holstein and she showed him many things. In the end the blue-eyed girl told him to check back with her again.
He said he would but doubted he’d ever see her again the next time. Her face stayed in his mind, and he had dreams of dancing the polka with her at a schoolhouse dance in Van Buren near the army’s Fort Smith.
He did buy a sack of good brown beans in a store there. Two different doves also accosted him before he made it back to his horse, packing the load on his shoulder.
One would not give up. “Oh, my, a big man like you sure needs to love me.”
“No, ma’am, I need to take these up the hill to my crew so they can eat.”
“I can feed you love, mister, and for only two dollars.”
“No thanks.”
“Step in the alley and I’ll show you my body. You will love it.”
“No thanks, ma’am.”
“Gawdamn it. Then I will do it for a dollar.”
He shook his head, not impressed by her. “Not today at any price.”
“I hope that sheep you use gives you the clap.” She stomped off.
At least she wouldn’t give him any of her diseases. He waved down a black man with mules and a wagon who for fifty cents was willing to deliver the sack of beans to their camp on the hill.
He loaded them in his rickety-rick and then paid him. The man thanked him. Then he promised to deliver them and went on up the hill.
“This your horse, mister?”
Damn there was another of them women untying his horse.
“Yes and thank you, ma’am. I’ll take those reins.”
This one wasn’t wearing a dress; she wore men’s britches and a man’s shirt. “I wasn’t going to steal him. You leaving town?”
“I planned to shortly. Why?”
“Why don’t you buy us two cans of peaches and some forks?”
“What are we going to do with them?”
“Go over to Lee’s Creek on your horse and eat them in private.”
“What’s your name?”
“Kate Martin. What’s yours?”
“Harper O’Malley.”
“Well, since you aren’t doing anything important, why don’t we do that, Harper O’Malley?”
“Where do you live?”
“Around here.”
“Where are your folks?”
“Dead.”
“Where do you live then?”
“Where I can. I just thought we’d go somewhere and talk and eat peaches. You are a nice-looking man and I just thought—”
“If I buy those peaches, let’s be straight, I am under no obligation to you except to eat them with you.”
“Honest, mister. That’s all.”
“Stay here. I’ll be back.”
“Hey, guy.”
“Yes.”
“Thanks.”
She sure was not the typical tramp he’d ever met. What the hell. She intrigued him. That was a word his mother taught him. First chance he had to ever use the word that he could recall. He
purchased two large cans of peaches. He had utensils in his saddlebags.
When he returned she was sitting there cross-legged on the ground, and she bound up like she was on springs, brushed her small butt off, and laughed. “I picked a winner.”
“Put your can in that side. I’ll put mine over here.”
“This horse pack double?” she asked as she put her can away.
“He will if I want him to.”
“You must live in Texas?” she asked as he pulled her up behind him.
“I do when I am home. West of San Antonio at Camp Verde. Dad had a ranch west of Fort Worth originally; we moved south later on.”
“Why are you up here then?”
“I took a big herd of cattle to Sedalia, Missouri. Going home.”
She scooted up behind him and put her hands around his waist, hugging him tightly. “He don’t act like he will buck.”
“I think he’ll be fine. He’s been rode a million miles. Can I ask how you exist? Being a young female with no family?”
“I do the best I can. I am not some angel, but I think you knew that. I try to find a man to put up with me so that I am not like today when I am without one.”
“Where did the last one go?”
“Prison.”
“Why?”
“He shot a man and they found him guilty.”
“You love him.”
“He provided for me. I spent the last dime he gave me for breakfast this morning.”
“They’re going to hang him?”
“Yes, in three weeks. Listen . . . Jimmy Groves, for my part, is already dead. Let’s talk about you.”
“Not much to say. My brother Long and I own the O’Malley Brothers Land and Cattle Company. We’re headed home. Taking a break down here and tomorrow we go on to Texas.”
“You have a crew with you?”
“Ten others besides ourselves. Two wagons and a remuda.”
“What is that?”
“Fifty horses to switch out and one big bell steer.”
“What’s he for anyway?”
“He led the cattle to Sedalia for us.”
“Take this road west. Were they big longhorns?”
“Yes. And I’m going back for more.”
“You do this all the time? Drive cattle up and down the country?”
The O'Malleys of Texas Page 9
