“Thank you,” she said.
He walked her around to the other side of the wagon. Then he raised her foot up to the rest and put his hands on her waist. He lifted her up. She pushed on the footrest and then grabbed the sideboard. She climbed onto the seat without help.
Checkers came around and got into the wagon. He picked up the reins and took off the brake.
“Heeya,” he yelled at the horses, and rattled the reins over their backs.
The horses plodded through the snow.
He kept them at a steady pace, and was able to stay on track.
Then Louella felt the wagon jolt to a stop. She had no idea where they were or why they were stopping.
Then she saw the water through the shawl of the falling snow.
“What’s that?” she asked. “A lake? Or a big creek?”
He set the brake. “It’s nigh noon,” he said, “by my way of figurin’, and that there is the Missouri River.”
“Do we have to cross it?” she asked.
“Yep. We have to cross it. And it’s a bear to cross.”
She looked at the mighty stream and felt its power as it rushed down between its banks. She had never seen the Missouri River before, but she had heard Reese talk about it.
“It’s the longest river in the States,” he told her.
Now she wondered how they, in the wagon, and Reese, with his cattle, would ever cross such a river.
It was frightening to think about it just then.
Chapter 25
The wind shifted and snow blew into the faces of the drovers and the cattle. Reese rode up to the head of the herd to find a cow fighting to take the lead. She swung her head and horns at the other cattle trying to take the lead.
Calvin Forbes had been riding point and now turned back to see what the ruckus was. Lonnie rode up on the flank behind Reese. He could see the turmoil at the head of the herd. Snow blew wet and cold against his face and he had to keep blinking his eyes to see.
“That cow has been causin’ trouble for the last two miles,” Cal said to Reese. “I don’t know what to do about it. I keep havin’ to ride back to break up the fights.”
“Let her take the lead. They’ll work it out.” Reese kept the lead cattle from straying on his flank. They all seemed to want to avoid the fracas going on up front. The cow bellowed and struggled against the wind and snow to get ahead of all the other cattle. She was fat and heavy and seemed to have a belligerent nature.
“Need any help?” Lonnie called out.
Reese waved him away. “We’re fine, Lonnie. Watch that flank.”
“That wind shift has made all the cows nervous,” Cal said. “They want to turn their butts and head back to home.”
“You might have to shoot that ornery lead cow if she gets too rambunctious,” Reese said.
“I’d hate to do that, Reese. She’s prime beef on the hoof.”
“I know. But she’s a troublemaker.”
Cal took off his hat and swatted at the cows around the bossy one. They swung away from the cow that wanted the lead and she forged ahead, seemingly impervious to the blowing snow. She held her head high and warded off any intruders that might make an attempt to question her leadership by passing her.
The fat cow warded off all the cows that came near. She wanted that front spot and meant to keep it.
Cal turned his horse and trotted off to take point again.
The dominant cow took that as a sign of approval and jumped ahead of the other cows. Her hooves kicked up snow and she stormed on ahead of them all.
Reese smiled at the cow’s determination to lead the herd. She was like a dog with a bone in her teeth as she braved wind and snow. And now she was all alone, up front. The other cows followed her blindly, seemingly content to have her as their leader.
A wave of sympathy suddenly engulfed Reese. He looked at the cattle and felt their misery. They were cold. Probably hungry. And they were being driven off their home range into a strange and foreign world.
He wished the drive had begun sooner. He longed for a blue sky and a hawk floating up high above gama grass. Instead he was cloaked in a white shroud, unable to see either the sky or very far ahead of the herd. Snow stuck to the cows’ hides, and their hooves were caked with snow.
Even his horse was feeling the wind and the cold. But it was a brave horse, not stupid like the humans such as himself who ventured out in such miserable weather.
He missed being with Louella. He missed their home and a warm fire in the hearth. He missed the simple comforts she and their home had given them. It seemed an eternity ago, and now there was no home. It lay in ashes and Cheyenne were eating beef that he had raised.
Where was the fairness in all this? Reese wondered, and he pondered this and other questions as he rode and shivered, as the wind blasted his face until it was as raw as a skinned cat. They were not gaining miles in the snowstorm. They were gaining inches and feet. He felt as if he were in an icy hell. There was no shelter for miles and miles. No warm fire to warm his flesh and his bones. There was only the cold and the snow.
Would it never end?
Would he ever feel sunshine and smell prairie flowers again?
Suddenly Reese saw the herd bunch up ahead of him. Then all the cattle stopped moving, as if they had run into a barrier.
Moments later, Calvin rode up, emerging from the curtain of snow like some apparition.
“What’s up?” Reese asked. “Why is the herd halted?”
“Somethin’ I want you to see, Reese. Looks like Checkers run into some trouble.”
“I’ll follow you. But we’ve got to keep this herd mov- in’.”
“I know, I know,” Cal said. “This won’t take long. Might be important.”
Cal led him to the deep hole where the wagon tracks were still visible. They were fast filling with snow, but they told a story. Nearby, just barely covered with snow, were two splintered wagon wheel spokes. And a flat rock that was just now being covered with snow. There were boot tracks on both sides of the wagon tracks.
Reese recognized them as belonging to Checkers and Louella.
“Looks like he broke a wheel in that hole,” Reese said.
“They were here long enough that the snow hasn’t yet covered their tracks,” Calvin said.
The herd bellowed and lowed. Some of the cattle stomped their feet.
That’s when Johnny rode up.
“Why are we stoppin’?” he asked.
“Somethin’ I wanted to show Reese,” Cal said.
Johnny took it all in quickly. “Looks like Checkers run into a big old hole and busted a wheel,” he said.
“Why are you here, Johnny?” Reese asked. “You should be riding drag or rear flank.”
“Somethin’ I found out this mornin’, Reese. Somethin’ that’s been stuck in my craw since we left night camp.”
Reese flapped a hand to clear away enough snowfall to see Johnny’s face. “Go ahead,” he said. “Spit it out.”
“We lost some cows overnight. I mean, they was lyin’ dead in the snow this mornin’. Some of ’em dropped after we left, but they was half a dozen died durin’ the night.”
“Ah, not good,” Reese said.
“This ain’t no regular snowstorm,” Johnny said. “It’s a full-fledged blizzard.” As if to emphasize his words, a gust of wind ripped into them, nearly blowing them out of their saddles. The cows protested with groans and moans.
“He’s right,” Cal said. “This is a bizzard, by damn, and them cattle ain’t growed their winter coats yet.”
“We’re likely to lose more head if this keeps up,” Johnny said. “Temperature’s droppin’ and it’s snowin’ like hell.”
“The only thing I know to do,” Reese said, “is to keep the herd moving. Keep them from freezing.”
“Yep,” Cal said. “You’re right. I’ll start ’em up again. Don’t know what we’re going to do tonight if this keeps up.”
“I’ll think of something,” Reese said.
“I hope so,” Cal said. He turned his horse and rode away, for the front of the herd.
“I’ll be goin’ back on drag,” Johnny said. “The herd stretches near a mile, but we got to keep ’em movin’. It’s way below freezin’ and some of the cows just ain’t ready for winter weather.”
“Stay on it, Johnny,” Reese said.
He watched Johnny disappear in a blinding mass as the wind picked up speed and blew snow over the herd.
How many cattle would he lose before the blizzard abated? Reese watched the herd slowly lumber on, their hides flocked with snow. They shook off some of the snow, but it was coming down too fast for them to shed all of it.
This was something he hadn’t counted on when he left the home range. An early snowstorm. A blizzard.
And ahead, he thought, there was the Missouri River to cross.
He looked up at a nonexistent sky that funneled snowflakes down at him.
Would it ever stop snowing?
The answer was in the wind gust that blinded him with fresh snow.
This was a blizzard and it showed no signs of stopping.
Chapter 26
The women did not complain. They drove the dozen head of cattle through the heavy snowdrifts and cheerily called out to one another when one of them stumbled or fell. They were warm in their buffalo robes. Some of them walked in the ruts left by the travois poles.
A couple of the women rode the ponies that pulled the travois. The warriors rode their ponies or walked separately from the women. Mounted and following the women were Yellow Horse, Black Feather, and Silver Bear.
The snow hindered them all, slowed them down as the wind blasted them with strong gusts and furious crosscurrents.
Still, the snow kept falling. And no sign of the main herd of cattle.
“They go far, the cattle and the White Eyes,” Yellow Horse said.
“Yes. But we will catch them,” Silver Bear said.
“The fire stick I carry will speak to the White Eyes,” Black Feather said.
Silver Bear and Yellow Horse both grunted in assent.
Suddenly the ponies pulling the travois stopped and the women broke ranks and ran ahead of them. Their excitement was contagious as all the women and the warriors on foot surged ahead of the halted ponies.
“What is it?” Yellow Horse asked.
“There is something ahead of us,” Black Feather replied.
“We will see what the women have found,” Silver Bear said.
He, Yellow Horse, and Black Feather rode their ponies up to where the women were crowded around something in the snow.
“What is that you have found?” Silver Bear asked Little Turtle, who was crooning with delight over her discovery.
“There is a cow here under the snow,” she said.
“And look,” Morning Doe said, pointing her arm in another direction, “there is another cow. We have meat to cook.”
The women all spoke in high-pitched voices. They marveled over their discovery.
“We will eat again,” Gray Dove said, and Little Turtle knelt down and drew a knife from the scabbard attached to one of her legs.
“Let us make camp here and make fire,” Morning Doe said.
The women all voiced their approval of this and began hunting for a suitable place to pitch their shelters. There was a small butte some distance from the trail, an outcropping of rocks that sheltered the ground from much of the snow on one side.
The women all chattered and some began to cut up the dead cow, while others found more dead cows and cried out in joy.
Silver Bear rode up on them, followed by Yellow Horse and Black Feather.
“What are you doing?” he asked Morning Doe.
“There is much meat here. We are hungry. We will make camp and make fire to cook the meat.”
“We will continue to hunt the White Eyes,” he said. “Do you not want to be with us?”
“We are not warriors,” Morning Doe said to Silver Bear. “We do not fight the White Eyes. We are just women. We make your moccasins and your clothes. We cook your meals. That is what we do.”
“I cannot protect you if you stay here,” Silver Bear said.
“We have knives and we will have fire,” Morning Doe said. “You go and kill the White Eyes. We will make us a warm camp. We have wood and we have flint and iron.”
Silver Bear snorted as he looked around and saw the women scurrying to the dead cows and over to the small butte. Some led the horses and dragged the travois over to their proposed shelter, while others dug in the snow for rocks and still others pulled brush from the ground and shook the snow from the leaves and branches.
“They are mad, these women,” Black Feather said.
“They are crazy like the buffalo cow that eats the locoweed,” Yellow Horse said.
“That is true,” Silver Bear said. “The women have gone crazy over frozen cows.”
Some of the other braves gathered around Silver Bear.
“We will stay with the women,” Iron Knife said. “We are cold and we are hungry.”
The other braves grunted in assent.
“You do not want to go with us and kill the White Eyes? We can steal more cows and have a bigger herd.”
Some of the men signed in the negative.
Silver Bear looked at them with eyes hooded by frozen lashes. “You are as crazy as the women,” he said to them.
“We are tired and we are cold,” Crooked Arrow said.
“We will stay with the women and warm our bodies at their fire,” Broken Knife said. The others grunted their approval of his words.
“You are all women,” Silver Bear said.
The warriors hung their heads in shame. But they did not walk back onto the trail. Instead they lifted their feet and stomped the snow where they stood.
Silver Bear turned to Black Feather and Yellow Horse.
“Do you want to stay with the women?” he asked.
“No. We will go with you,” Yellow Horse said.
“We want to take the scalps of the White Eyes and steal more cattle from them,” Black Feather said.
“Then we go,” Silver Bear said. “Let the women and the cowards stay here.”
“We should smoke the pipe first,” Yellow Horse said. “Then paint our faces for war against the White Eyes.”
“Yes, that would be good,” Silver Bear said.
The three rode over to the butte where most of the women were unloading the travois.
They had a fire started in a ring of wet stones.
Silver Bear spoke to Morning Doe. “We will smoke the pipe and paint our faces,” he said.
“I will find the paints for you,” Morning Doe said.
The three men dismounted.
Little Turtle brought the pipe and tobacco pouch to Silver Bear. Then she spread a buffalo robe over the snow near the fire pit.
Morning Doe brought the bowls of paints and set them out for the warriors.
Silver Bear filled the bowl of the pipe with tobacco. He offered tobacco to the four directions, then lit the pipe with a faggot from the fire.
The three men smoked. Then they painted their faces as was their custom when they went on the warpath. The women did not look at them but continued to make camp. Others came with fresh meat they had cut from the dead cows. They laid the meat in the snow near one of the lean-tos and went back to the trail for more.
When the men had finished their smoke, they arose.
The women all crooned in approval when they saw the paint on the men’s faces.
Silver Bear, Yellow Horse, and Black Feather mounted
their ponies and cried out their battle whoops.
“May the Great Spirit watch over you, Silver Bear, and bring you many scalps from the White Eyes,” Morning Doe said.
Silver Bear grunted and swung his pony away from the camp.
Yellow Horse and Black Feather caught up with him and flanked him on their ponies. They brandished their rifles and made little battle cries with soft voices.
They sang their song as they rode back to the trail.
“It is a good day to die,” they sang, and their faces got wet with snow as they gazed skyward into the teeth of the blizzard.
They rode through the snow and the blowing wind like ghostly apparitions and disappeared from the view of the other warriors and the women.
Iron Knife spoke it. “It is a good day to die,” he said again.
The women keened as they went about making camp.
And still the snow kept falling and the wind whipped the fire into a frenzy of flame, smoke, and golden fireflies.
Chapter 27
Earl Kelso put another horse under saddle and grained the one he had ridden from the line shack. But it didn’t help much. It was still cold as a well digger’s rump and he didn’t like it.
“Damn snow,” he said when he rode over to where Jasper Mullins was waiting, along with Homer Parsons and Dave Riggs. They were all wearing heavy winter jackets, but their gun belts were strapped on outside their coats.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s a lot of snow,” Mullins said. “Quit your bellyachin’.”
“I just don’t like winter,” Kelso said.
“Apparently your horse don’t neither,” Homer said. “And likely that piebald won’t neither.”
Kelso patted the neck of the piebald gelding. The piebald whickered and tossed its head. “Old Skinface will do me just fine,” he said. “He ain’t got his winter coat yet, but he’s got good lungs and sturdy legs.”
“Yeah, like you,” Homer said.
Dave laughed and Mullins gave him a scornful look.
“Let’s head out,” Mullins said. “You boys stick close. I don’t want none of you to get lost in this blizzard.”
Ralph Compton The Cheyenne Trail Page 12
