“Can’t snow forever,” Dave said. “Too damn early for all this much snow.”
“What in hell do you know, Dave?” Homer said as he rode up on Mullins’s right flank. “You take all your weather inside a saloon.”
“Good weather in there,” Dave said.
“At least with all that flappin’, your mouth won’t likely freeze,” Mullins said.
All three men chuckled and Mullins seemed satisfied.
They rode into the jaws of the storm and felt its windy teeth. Snow blew at them as if they were in a parade with gallons of confetti spewing down on them.
“How far is it that cattle trail anyway?” Homer asked as he hunched in the saddle in an attempt to keep some of the snow from blowing through the eyelets and seams of his heavy coat.
“Oh, it’s a good three or four miles to that line shack,” Kelso replied. “Seems a lot farther in this dang snow.”
“Takes a long time to go a mile in this,” Dave said.
“Look at how fast Earl’s tracks are fillin’ in,” Homer said.
That was so. They could all see the tracks made by Kelso’s horse. But they were nearly obliterated by the amount of snow that fell onto the ground.
As they rode, the horse tracks began to disappear. Finally there were only the faintest impressions of the hooves in the snow. The tracks became slightly lower than the surrounding accumulation of snow. And finally even those faint impressions were no longer visible.
“Where in hell are we?” Dave asked.
“Damned if I know,” Homer said.
“Just keep ridin’ straight,” Earl said. “We only got about a mile or so to go.”
“I hope to hell you’ve got your bearings, Earl,” Mullins said. “It’s like bein’ in a room with all the walls painted white.”
Kelso chuckled at the remark.
The other two men bowed their heads against the blowing wind, their humped forms aswirl with snowflakes. They rode on through a bewildering world of white. It was cold and the wind made it colder. When the line shack finally appeared, all of them were shivering in their heavy winter coats.
“There it is,” Kelso cried out.
Beyond the line shack, the old buffalo trail was a mass of muddy snow. They all reined up and looked at the churned snow. Clods of mud and piles of offal littered the ground.
And there was not a cow in sight.
“Missed ’em,” Mullins said. “I thought you said it was a big herd, Earl.”
“It was, Jasper. It was a real big herd. I swear.”
“Well, they’ve done passed on by,” Dave said.
“Look how their tracks are disappearin’,” Homer said.
“But you can see where they passed by here,” Kelso said. “Plain as day.”
“Well, if we aim to purloin us any of those cattle, we’d better start after ’em,” Mullins said.
“Might not be so far at that,” Homer said. “They’re goin’ to run right into the Missouri, they stay on this trail.”
“That’s right,” Dave said. “Big old river.”
“Hmm,” Mullins said. “It’ll take them hours to cross, won’t it?”
“Damn sure will,” Dave said. “I wouldn’t want to cross it in this weather.”
“Some places you can’t cross,” Homer said. “I had a hell of a time findin’ a ford once’t.”
“Well, time’s a-wastin’,” Mullins said.
He rode onto the trail first. The others followed. Their horses’ hooves came down on mud and snow, piles of offal, and yellowed streaks of urine that had burned furrows through the snow.
Not far behind them, three Cheyenne warriors on ponies followed the same track, their buffalo coats flocked with snow, their rifles held tight against their bodies.
Ahead of them, the cattle stood on the bank of the Missouri River, drinking the water with twitching nostrils and batting eyelashes.
And there was the smell of burning sage where men warmed their hands over the fire.
And still the snow kept falling, faster than before.
In the nearby buttes, the wind howled and there were eerie sounds from the mesas as the wind scoured the snow from their flat surfaces only to have them whitened again and again.
Not a creature was stirring on that vast plain. There were only the brown cattle with snow on their backs, slurping water through rubbery lips and yellow teeth.
And the remuda too, lined up on the riverbank, slaking their thirst, blowing snow away from their mouths and nostrils with heaving breaths that looked like steam.
Louella snuggled against Reese as they stood by the fire. Checkers passed out sandwiches with a cheery smile and a hat brim clogged with snow.
“We’ve got to find a ford,” Reese said.
“Now?” Lonnie asked.
“The sooner, the better,” Reese said. “While we still got daylight.”
“That water’s got to be freezin’,” Lonnie said.
And no one said a word. They were all thinking about the river crossing and nearly a thousand head of cattle to drive onto the other side of the Missouri River.
Vernon Avery stared at the others. He wished they were all dead and that he was back with his people, or with the Cheyenne.
He thought about that and what he could do to slow down the river crossing.
Perhaps, he thought, Silver Bear was not far away.
He knew where they could ford the river, but he wasn’t about to tell anyone. Let them drown a few head of cattle while they searched for just the right place.
Johnny was even then riding along the river, looking for a place where they could drive the cattle across.
There was no sun. There was only the relentless snowfall and the lashing bullwhips of the brutal wind.
Only the river seemed impervious to the storm. As fast as the snow fell, the waters devoured the flakes. The hungry waters swelled ever so slightly and the river rolled on, swift and certain as time itself.
Chapter 28
It was Black Feather who first spotted the four white men.
The Cheyenne rode in single file, Black Feather in the lead, followed by Silver Bear and Yellow Horse at the rear.
Black Feather reined his pony to a halt and held up a hand to stop those behind him. He turned as the others rode up close to him and stopped.
“Why do you stop, Black Feather?” Silver Bear asked.
“I saw four white men on horses,” Black Feather said.
“Where?” Silver Bear strained his eyes to see through the falling snow.
“There,” Black Feather said. He pointed ahead of them on the muddied snow of the trail.
“I do not see them,” Silver Bear said.
“I see nothing but the falling snow,” Yellow Horse said.
“They are there. Four White Eyes.”
“Let us see if we see them again,” Silver Bear said. “Let us ride this path and see if the White Eyes appear to us.”
“You will see them,” Black Feather said.
They rode ahead with caution, until, through the streamers of snowflakes, they saw the four white men on horseback.
Silver Bear held up his hand to halt the other two braves.
“Did you see the White Eyes, Yellow Horse?” Silver Bear asked.
“I saw them,” Yellow Horse replied.
“They do not look like the White Eyes who herd the cattle,” Black Feather said.
“No,” Silver Bear said. “These are strange white men.”
“They follow the cattle herd,” Yellow Horse said.
“Maybe they want to steal the cattle too,” Black Feather said.
“Yes, I think they wish to steal cows from the white man, Reese.”
“What do we do?” Yellow Horse asked.
“We follow th
em to see what they do,” Silver Bear said.
“Do we let them steal some of the cattle?” Yellow Horse asked.
“No,” Silver Bear said. “If they steal the cattle, we will fight them and take the cows away from them.”
“That is good,” Yellow Horse said. “Maybe they will steal many cattle and kill the White Eyes of the herd.”
“Maybe there will be many White Eyes to die this day,” Black Feather said.
“That is my wish,” Silver Bear said. “Let us not let them see us. We will follow them to see what they do.”
With that, he rode on.
The white men had disappeared ahead of them.
When they saw them again, they made their ponies match their speed so that the white men stayed in sight, but just on the fringe of the falling snow so that they could be seen.
The three Cheyenne were covered in snowflakes. They looked like the men the children made from piling up the snow.
Chapter 29
Once or twice, Mullins would look over his back trail. He wondered if someone was following them. He did not see anyone and he knew it was foolish of him to think such a thing.
He did not say anything to the others, but he noticed that Kelso also turned every now and then to look back. And soon the other two men who rode with him were doing the same thing.
“That herd has covered some ground since I left the line shack,” Kelso said.
“They’ll stop at the river,” Mullins told him.
“Or go across,” Kelso said.
“We’ll find ’em,” Mullins said. And he turned to look behind him once again.
“I see you got that feelin’ too, Jasper,” Kelso said.
“What feelin’?”
“Like somebody’s on your hind end.”
“I get that feelin’ sometimes,” Mullins said.
“Yeah, me too. You can feel someone’s eyes on you and when you turn around, sure enough, somebody’s starin’ at you.”
“It’s just a feelin’,” Mullins said.
“Maybe there is somebody follerin’ us,” Homer said. “I keep lookin’, but all I see is snow.”
Mullins suppressed a laugh. The laugh wound up as a snort. “Tell you what, boys. Let’s just find out if there’s anybody back there. Just to be on the safe side.”
None of the men said anything.
“Riggs, you just ride on out in the snow where you can watch to see if we’re bein’ followed.”
“Me?” Riggs said.
“Yeah, you. Just ride on out on my flank and stay put. You see anybody, you ride like hell to catch up with us.”
“Oh, all right,” Riggs said.
He halted his horse as the others rode on. Then he turned the horse and rode out into the snow. It was rough going for his horse, but when he was far enough from the trail, he stopped. He stared at the falling snow and watched Mullins and the other two disappear up the trail. He cursed and hunkered down over his saddle horn as the wind tore at his coat and scraped his face raw.
He could just make out the old buffalo trail. He knew where it was because of the moiled-up mud mixed with the snow. There was black among the white blanket of snow.
He wondered how long he would have to stay where he was before he could catch up to the others.
He also wondered if anyone was following them. It did not seem likely that anyone would be out in such weather.
He was about to ride back to the trail when he saw movement.
He rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
He saw ponies, three of them in single file. Then he saw three warriors. He glimpsed their painted faces and held his breath.
“Jesus,” he said under his breath.
Slowly he grabbed the stock of his rifle and pulled it from its sheath.
The Cheyenne had not spotted him. But he felt a talon of fear claw at his stomach.
Would the Indians see him?
The warriors looked as if they were hiding something inside their buffalo coats.
What in hell were Indians doing way out here? And they were definitely following them. They could not fail to see the tracks of their horses. The tracks were fresh and the snow had not yet filled them in or covered them up.
Riggs brought his rifle up. He levered a cartridge into the firing chamber. The snick of the action seemed loud in his ears.
The Indians halted their ponies and looked in his direction.
Riggs took aim. His hands and arms shook with the cold. But his finger curled around the trigger as he lined up his sights on the Indian in the lead.
He took a breath and held it.
Then his finger tightened as he squeezed the trigger.
Chapter 30
Johnny rode up in a hurry.
“I found us a fordin’ place,” he said to Reese. “Just downriver a little ways.”
“How far across?” Reese asked.
“Not too awful far. There’s a sandbar that splits the river. The cattle might have to swim the deepest part. But they can make it across, I think.”
“Then let’s get the herd going before they all freeze to death,” Reese said.
The men grumbled as they left the open fire. Reese gave Louella a squeeze. “Stay warm as long as you can,” he said.
“I will,” she said.
Then Reese turned to Checkers. “Think you can make it across?” he asked the cook.
“If we have to swim it, we’ll get to the other side,” Checkers said.
“Let’s hope you don’t have to swim that river,” Reese said.
“Don’t you worry about us, Cap’n. We’ll get across. I never let hell or high water stop me before.”
Reese smiled and turned to his horse. He mounted and waved good-bye to Louella and Checkers, then rode up to the riverbank to help the others round up the cattle and get them moving downstream.
The hands began to drive the cattle. Johnny rode ahead to show them the way. When he stopped and pointed, the drovers turned the lead cattle toward the river.
The cattle balked. Men yelled at them and took off their hats to bat at the lead cattle. The lead cow was reluctant to step off the bank and into the river. Johnny splashed in with his horse and reached down to grab a horn. He gripped one horn and pulled on it. Reese rode in behind the cow, and his horse pushed on her rump.
The cow stepped into the river. Johnny turned loose of her horn and rode out to push the rest of the herd to follow the lead cow. He shouted and others shouted too.
Slowly the herd stepped into the river. Into the shallows. When the lead cow stepped out on the sandbank, she would go no farther.
“Get her goin’, Johnny,” Reese called out.
Johnny urged his horse across the shallows to the sandbank that split the stream. There, he batted his hat on the cow’s rump and let his horse sidle up to her and push her off the little island and into the water. The cow fell into the water. Her forelegs began to chop the water as she eyed the other shore. She swam toward it and floundered out of the water and up onto the bank.
Jimmy whacked his hat at the other cattle crowding onto the sandbar, and they all jumped in and began to swim.
Norcross found another place to ford the river. He drove the feed wagon across while Lonnie and Jeremy herded the remuda into the river. The horses did not have to swim, but the water was up to their bellies, even so.
Lonnie cried out in dismay as one cow was swept away by the current. It bawled and flailed at the water but was carried to deeper and swifter water. Lonnie’s horse chased after the cow, but when the cow went under, he reined up before he too, along with his horse, got into trouble.
“Couldn’t be helped, Lonnie,” Reese told him.
“Damn. I hate to lose even one head,” Lonnie said.
“We’re bound to lose a few head. In any
trail drive. And this one is a bitch willy.”
“You can say that again, Reese,” Lonnie said.
“I won’t. Let’s get back to the main herd. Get ’em across.”
“I’ll do my best,” Lonnie said as his horse scrambled back up onto the bank. He rode to the center of the herd and made sure the cows all stayed in line and headed for the crossing.
As the herd thickened, the cattle in front were pushed into the river by those behind. The crossing seemed to go better and faster as the hands kept up the pressure to move the herd.
“Those cows can’t see the river until they’re in it,” Lonnie told Reese.
“That’s the idea,” Reese said as he chased a straying steer back into the main herd.
The crossing took most of the afternoon, but Reese was pleased that they had lost only one or two head as near as he could figure.
“You picked a good place to ford the river,” he told Johnny.
“Thanks, Reese. But I wouldn’t like to do it again.”
“I wouldn’t either,” Reese said.
Checkers crossed without incident and soon was way ahead of the herd. He used his compass because the buffalo trail was obliterated by snow. And the horses had to pull hard to roll the wagon through the heavier drifts.
The herd moved slowly.
Reese went to each of his cowhands and spoke to them.
“I want you to gather what brush and wood you can,” he told each man.
“What for?”
“Tonight, we’ll light fires to keep the cattle warm. I don’t want to lose any more to the cold.”
The hands made a sight as they gathered firewood and tied the bundles to their saddles. And firewood was difficult to find with all that snow on the ground.
“This brush will burn fast,” Tommy said to one of the hands. “Not all night.”
“Give Reese what he wants and you’ll get along, kid,” Johnny told him.
“Like a slave,” Vernon remarked as he rode by, a bundle of twigs tied behind his cantle.
Reese did his share as well. Whenever he saw a bush sticking out of the snow, he rode to it and chopped branches to add to his pile.
The cattle struggled to make headway as the snow kept falling. The wind circled and blew. Finally the falling flakes began to thin and the clouds began to drift to the southeast. The skies began to clear to the northwest by late afternoon.
Ralph Compton The Cheyenne Trail Page 13
