“Well, here they are,” Checkers said as he cut up potatoes and dried beef and let them fall into a large pot. “You can get some of them plates and set ’em on the tailgate. Bowls too, and spoons are in that side cabinet.”
The coffeepot boiled and the aroma wafted to Louella’s nostrils as she set out plates and bowls. Checkers stirred the stew pot and that scent was there too, stirring hunger pangs in her stomach.
Reese rode up and smiled at her.
“You’re here early,” he said. “I thought we were at least another hour away.”
“Yes, Checkers wanted to set up so Jimmy John would get some rest without so much pain from the bouncing wagon.”
Reese swung down from his horse.
“Smells good,” he said. “We made good time too. Might do better’n ten miles before the day is done.”
“Is that good?” she asked.
“Better’n yesterday,” Reese said.
He looked up at the sky. The sun was nearing its zenith. He walked over behind the wagon to stand in the shade.
Louella walked over to stand beside him.
That’s when they heard the first war cries and yelps from the tail end of the oncoming herd.
Then they heard a rifle shot in the distance.
“Uh-oh,” Reese said. “Trouble.”
“What is it?” Louella asked in confusion. The cries seemed far away and the gunshot just as distant.
“Cheyenne,” Reese said. “The damn Cheyenne. They sound like they’re tryin’ to steal cattle from the rear of the herd.”
Checkers stopped stirring and looked toward the herd, which had fanned out when the cattle went for water.
There were more rifle shots.
Reese went to his horse.
“Checkers, arm yourself. Louella, you get in the wagon and stay there.”
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To kill me some Cheyenne,” he said.
Reese wheeled his horse and galloped off toward the rear of the herd. He yelled to the outriders as he pulled his rifle from its scabbard.
The herd was running toward the creek now as he rode past them and headed for the rear.
A feeling of dread rose in him as the rifle fire died down.
He rode on into a silence that was so deep, he could feel it like a cloak wrapped around him.
And the cloak felt a lot like fear.
Chapter 16
Silver Bear crawled through the grass on his belly. He held a sagebrush in one hand, his bow in the other. It was a slow, difficult process as he stirred up sand fleas, dust mites, ants, and other insects. The sun was low in the eastern sky when he and his men spotted the herd and took up their positions on the left flank.
Timing was everything, because Silver Bear wanted to be at the tail end of the herd when the sun was highest in the sky, the middle of the day.
With him, at thirty-yard intervals, were the two Lakota braves, the Crow warrior, Iron Knife, and Speckled Hawk.
Somewhere, on the other flank, he knew, Yellow Horse, Black Feather, and another Cheyenne brave, Water Snake, waited on their ponies to cut off the tail of the herd as it passed in front of Silver Bear and his braves.
When he reached a spot where he could see the passing herd, yet not be seen by any of the outriders, he stopped his crawl. He dug a hole and stuck the sage into it and tamped the earth to secure it. The sage was directly in front of him, affording him more cover.
He strung his bow, pulled an arrow from his quiver, and waited. Cattle streamed by him in a walk. His mouth watered at the sight of all that beef. His stomach rumbled and made noises.
He could not see the other braves, but he knew they were there.
He looked up at the sky. There was still time and the herd was still moving. Now and then, he heard one of the white men yell and watched as the flanker rode back and forth along the line of cattle, keeping them in line and holding them on the trail.
As the sun reached its midpoint in the sky, he heard the sound of hoofbeats. And he heard one of the white men yell out a warning.
Silver Bear rose from his hiding place and nocked his arrow on the bowstring.
As Yellow Horse and Black Feather rode into the herd, separating a dozen cows from the rear end, Silver Bear shot one of the men on drag. His arrow struck the man in the side of his chest with enough force to emerge on the other side. Silver Bear knew that the arrow had pierced both of the man’s lungs. He would die within a few seconds.
George Billings fell from his horse as Roy Bledsoe opened fire with his rifle. Roy swung the barrel on a brave and squeezed the trigger. He saw the Indian throw up his arms and fall from his pony. The brave landed in front of some cows. The cows veered off to avoid running over the fallen brave.
One of the flankers started shooting at the marauding Indians, but he was too far away and his aim was lost.
Red Deer drove the separated bunch of cattle back along the trail, slapping their rumps with his bow to drive them well away from the herd.
More riders began to shoot at the Indians. But the Indians were expert horsemen and they zigzagged their ponies as they chased the cows backward along the trail.
Black Feather shot Roy at close range. Roy grabbed his chest as the arrow penetrated the breastbone and split it before poking out of his back. His rifle slid from his grasp and he slumped to his side before sliding off his saddle and landing on the hoof-scarred land, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
Men yelled and Indians whooped. Silver Bear ran toward one man and drove him off with arrows that came close. The rider turned back and galloped his horse to the south.
Then Silver Bear turned and ran to where he had tethered his horse. He saw the dozen head of cattle run from the main herd and knew that Red Deer and Black Feather had done their tasks.
The other braves rose and Silver Bear signed that they should retrieve their horses.
His one thought was to drive the cattle that Yellow Horse had taken. He and his braves could stand off any pursuit. He climbed onto his pony and rode off as the other braves came up to get their ponies.
The rifle fire died down and stopped.
Silver Bear caught up with Yellow Horse. Black Feather and the others came riding up.
“We have done it,” Silver Bear said to Yellow Horse. “We have cows.”
“Food for the winter,” Yellow Horse said. He grinned with delight.
Silver Bear watched the humps of the cattle as they drove them north, well away from the main herd. When he looked back, the herd was on the run, drifting over the horizon and out of sight.
Only one brave dead, he thought, and at least two white men lying in the dust and turning cold.
He caught up to the cattle as they lumbered up the trail in a running walk. He joined the other braves who were driving the cattle. He counted them. He counted them twice.
There were thirteen head they had captured. This number gave him a good feeling. His band would have food to eat and the hides would make clothing and moccasins.
He silently thanked the Great Spirit for his good fortune. He looked up at the sky and felt the spiritual presence of his deity.
When he looked back, he saw no white men in pursuit. And around him were his own kind, brave warriors. He thanked them, in silence, as well.
They kept the cattle moving at a brisk pace, on into the night until, at last, they arrived back in camp with more than a dozen head of healthy white-faced cattle.
The women screeched with joy when the men rode up and they saw so many cows, heard them mooing and lowing.
Overhead, Silver Bear saw huge black thunderheads blot out the stars. In the distance, he heard the drums of thunder and saw jagged streaks of lightning stitch silver ladders all along the north and west. And the wind blew cold and hard as he and his men bedded dow
n their stolen cattle and stood watch over their sudden wealth.
The women killed one of the cows, skinned it, and cut off chunks of meat after offering the heart to Silver Bear and the liver to Yellow Horse and Black Feather.
The fire blazed bright as the women cooked the meat.
The Cheyenne would live on and the white man’s ranch land lay in ashes.
It was a good night to live.
Chapter 17
Reese was struck with a pang of sadness when he saw the bloody body of George. He started to weep when some of the men pointed out the corpse of Roy.
Two good men lay dead on the hoof-roiled trail, with arrows sticking out of them like obscene markers.
Vernon Avery rode up. With him was Tommy Chadwick, wide-eyed with curiosity.
Reese looked at Avery, then at the fallen men.
“Vern. Get those arrows pulled from those men.”
“Yeah, sure,” Avery said, and dismounted.
Tommy looked at the body of Roy and vomited. He retched up his breakfast and turned away from the corpse.
Avery pulled the arrows from the two dead men. He jerked them viciously from their bodies and threw the arrows onto the ground.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“Find a low spot and lay them to rest.”
“You ain’t goin’ to bury them?” Avery asked.
“No, we’ve got to keep the herd moving. The chuck wagon is too far ahead of us, and Checkers has the only shovels with him.”
“What’ll we do, then? Just lay the bodies in a low place?”
“Cover them with rocks to keep the critters off them.”
“That won’t keep the coyotes and the buzzards from eatin’ their remains,” Avery said.
“That’s all we can do for them right now,” Reese said.
He looked at Tommy, who was still doubled over and spewing out the contents of his stomach. “Tommy, when you get finished throwing up, you help Vern carry them bodies off to their graves.”
Tommy looked up with tear-filled eyes. He nodded and swallowed. His face was drained of blood and had paled to chalk.
Reese knew that the other men were taking care of the herd and he didn’t expect any more to ride back to see what had happened. They had all heard the rifle shots and probably suspected that the Cheyenne had attacked them.
When Vernon and Tommy carried Roy’s body off the trail to a shallow depression, they both returned to pick up George. Color had returned to Tommy’s face, but he still looked wan. His nose crinkled up when he lifted the feet of the dead man as Vern hefted him by the shoulders.
“Cover them good with rocks,” Reese called out to them after they laid George’s body next to Roy’s. “Strip them of their pistols and any money they have in their pockets.”
The dead men’s horses stood on both sides of the trail, their reins drooping, their saddles empty. Reese rode over to Roy’s horse and grabbed the reins. Then he rode to George’s horse and gathered up his reins. The horses looked forlorn to him, dull-eyed and silent, as he led them back to the trampled trail.
Vernon and Tommy walked back. Both of them had pistol belts slung from their shoulders. Vern had a wad of bills and change in his hands.
“What do I do with what Roy had in his pockets?” he asked.
“We’ll keep a kitty in the chuck wagon. At noon stop, you can put their pistols in the wagon and the money in the kitty. In the meantime, you can sling their gun belts from these saddle horns.”
Tommy draped a gun belt from the saddle horn of Geroge’s horse. Avery slung Roy’s from his horse’s saddle. He stuffed the money into his pants pocket. Then the two climbed onto their own horses.
“You put plenty of rocks over those men, Vern?” Reese asked.
“We put all we could find that were right close,” Vern said. “But there’s already a buzzard up in the sky.”
Reese looked up.
A lone buzzard was wheeling in the sky as if on an invisible carousel. In the distance, he saw two others flapping their wings and flying lazily to join the lone bird hovering over the makeshift graves of his two hands.
“Can’t be helped,” Reese said to no one as he turned his horse away from where the men were buried.
“Nature’s way of cleanin’ up the land,” Avery said.
Reese shot him a look. “To hell with nature,” he said.
Tommy stared at Reese with his mouth open as if surprised that his boss would say something like that.
“Nature wouldn’t take kindly to you sayin’ that,” Vern said.
Reese shot him a withering look. “You keep your thoughts to yourself, Avery,” he said. “You’re still on a short string in my book.”
“What for?” Avery asked.
“You know,” Reese said, and let it drop.
Avery scowled, but wisely said nothing.
Puzzled, Tommy wore a look of bewilderment on his face.
Reese noticed the empty rifle scabbards on the saddles of both horses. He felt a rush of alarm course through his body like liquid fire.
“Tommy, Vern,” he said, “scout around here for the rifles of Roy and George. Look hard.”
Tommy began to ride around the places where the men had fallen. He covered both sides of the trail.
A look of relief came over Vern’s face, but he pulled the brim of his hat down to cover his elation. He thought of Silver Bear and his having two Winchesters. He knew that the Cheyenne were armed only with bows and arrows. Rifles could make them equal to any white man’s firepower.
Reese looked for the missing rifles too. He tried to picture in his mind what had happened when the outriders were ambushed and the cattle stolen.
The men, Roy and George, would have dropped their rifles. Any Cheyenne close to them would have seen their rifles fall and gone after them.
The thought of Silver Bear having repeating rifles made Reese feel slightly sick.
“Anything?” he asked Avery.
Vern shook his head. “There are no rifles on the ground out here,” he said.
“Tommy?” Reese asked.
“No, sir. I haven’t found none. Redskins must’ve taken them.”
“Stole them,” Reese said as anger flared up in him.
“Stolen,” Tommy said, and continued to look at the ground for one or both rifles.
Reese looked into the saddlebags on the horses of both men. Each had boxes of cartridges.
He breathed a short sigh of relief.
“Well, if the Cheyenne picked up those rifles, they didn’t steal any ammunition from my men,” he said. “All those redskins will have are the cartridges in the magazines.”
Vern scowled. Reese was right, of course. But with rifles, the Cheyenne would gain an advantage. An arrow was lethal, but a rifle could even up the odds between a Cheyenne and a white man. The bullet could go farther and faster than an arrow.
Reese realized that they weren’t going to find any rifles.
“Okay,” he said. “That’s it. The Cheyenne got two rifles and a little bit of ammunition. Let’s pack it up and head back to take care of the herd.”
Vern nodded, and Jimmy’s face lit up. He glanced over at where they had taken the dead men and saw the buzzards dropping from the sky like autumn leaves. One of the birds was already at the piles of rocks, walking back and forth, its head cocked to look for an opening. Jimmy turned away with a feeling of sickness rising from his stomach.
“You boys take these reins. Put the horses with the remuda. Leave the saddles on until we get to the chuck wagon at sunset.”
Tommy and Vern rode over. Each grabbed the reins that Reese held out for them.
The four rode away, down the cattle trail, over ground that was pockmarked with cattle hooves and horses’ tracks.
Vern and Tommy were poo
r replacements for the two men who had died fighting off the Indians. Reese knew that it would be difficult to hold the herd with the men he still had left. And those who were still alive would have to work harder to keep the herd in line on the long drive to Cheyenne.
He would have to work harder too. He had to figure out the best way to use the hands he had left.
What he dreaded was a stampede.
And winter, which was not far off. Those black clouds in the north were an ominous sign that there might be a snowstorm only hours or days away.
He might lose most of his herd if it snowed before they reached Cheyenne.
Now, he thought, was the time for prayer.
And speed.
Chapter 18
Sometime during that same afternoon, Checkers knew that Jimmy John was not going to make it. The man moaned and Checkers stopped the wagon.
“What’s wrong?” Louella asked.
“Got to check on Jimmy John,” he said. “I don’t like the sounds he’s makin’.”
Checkers pulled the wagon off the trail. He set the brake and climbed into the wagon as Louella watched anxiously from her seat.
“Feelin’ real bad, Checkers,” Jimmy John moaned. “Burnin’ up.”
Checkers touched a hand to Jimmy John’s cheek. His skin was flaming hot.
“You got a high fever, Jimmy John,” Checkers said. “Maybe too high.”
“I feel awful bad,” Jimmy John said.
“Let’s have a look at those wounds,” Checkers said.
“Need any help?” Louella asked.
“Not yet,” Checkers replied.
He unwrapped the bandage around Jimmy John’s middle and looked at the wound in his stomach. The hole was filled with pus, and the skin around the wound was red and swollen.
“Let’s have a look at your back,” Checkers said. “You just lie still. I’m going to turn you over on your side.”
“It hurts real bad, Checkers,” Jimmy John said.
“I know, I know.”
He rolled Jimmy John onto his side and examined the hole in his back. It looked the same as the one in his belly. The skin was red and there was pus oozing from the wound. He pushed to roll Jimmy John onto his back.
Ralph Compton The Cheyenne Trail Page 8
