Ralph Compton The Cheyenne Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “What about this one?” Lonnie asked.

  Reese drew his pistol. He cocked the hammer back and placed the muzzle just behind the horse’s ear.

  “Sorry, old buddy,” he said.

  He pulled the trigger. There was a loud report as the pistol spat a bullet into the horse’s brain. The horse’s body jerked and its hind legs kicked out.

  The horse was dead in seconds.

  Lonnie winced when the gun went off. His entire body twitched.

  Tears flowed from Reese’s eyes as the smoke spiraled up from the barrel of his pistol. He set the hammer to half-cock with his thumb and holstered it.

  Then he turned away as cattle flowed around him.

  Lonnie rode off with a “heeya,” waving his hat as he chased down the lead cow.

  Groggy, Reese made his slow way to the chuck wagon where Checkers had the cook fire blazing.

  “What happened, Reese?” Louella asked. “We heard a shot. Where’s your horse?”

  Checkers looked at Reese, his eyebrows raised.

  “Had to put my horse down,” Reese said.

  He hugged Louella. She reached up and wiped tears from his face.

  “Reese, I’m so sorry,” she said. “What happened?”

  “Gopher hole. Horse stepped in it and broke its leg.”

  “How awful,” she said.

  “A crying shame, Reese,” Checkers said.

  “Checkers, go tell Chuck to bring me another horse, will you? I’ll ride Rambler, the sorrel gelding. And have him and Jeremy go get my saddle and bridle off the horse I had to put down.”

  “Sure will. Him and Jeremy just put out feed for the remuda. See ’em yonder?” He pointed down the rim of the arroyo. Reese saw the feed wagon parked on a thick patch of grass and his two wranglers setting out feed for the horses. “And tell them to help Lonnie get a handle on those cows.”

  “Will do,” Checkers said. He walked toward the feed wagon.

  “I’m so sorry you had to shoot that horse, Reese,” Louella said. She put an arm around her husband’s waist. “It’s a pity.”

  “There was no saving him, Lou. Broke my heart. Damn gophers anyway.”

  “You always liked Rambler, though.”

  “Rambler’s a good horse. They’re all good at this point.”

  Presently Reese saw Chuck and Jeremy saddle up two horses. They put a halter on Rambler and led him over to the chuck wagon.

  “We’ll get your saddle and bridle, Reese,” Chuck said. “Just point us in the right direction.”

  “You may have to wade through a passel of cattle to get to it.”

  “We’ll find your gear,” Chuck said.

  “Jeremy, you help Lonnie round up that herd and get the cows back on track. Chuck, after you bring me my saddle, you can help them.”

  “Them cows just don’t want to go into that arroyo,” Chuck said.

  “And neither do I want them to go in there,” Reese said.

  He watched the two men ride away in the direction he had pointed. The herd was still following the lead cow, and Reese knew that Lonnie had his hands full. But help was on the way. And once he was saddled up on Rambler, he’d join the men in turning back the herd.

  “What’re you goin’ to do about this damn arroyo?” Checkers asked.

  “We’ll have to go around it,” Reese said. “I’m not going to risk losing cattle in that tangle of brush.”

  “Looks like them cows are headed in the right direction,” Checkers said. “And that ditch stretches quite a long ways.”

  “Maybe they are,” Reese said. “But we’ve got to control the herd. No matter what.”

  “Right enough,” Checkers said.

  Reese patted Rambler on the neck and the sorrel whinnied.

  “Pretty horse,” Louella said.

  “And he’s only four years old,” Reese said.

  Soon Chuck rode back with Reese’s saddle, bridle, and rifle. “A damn shame,” he said.

  “Yeah. But my horse broke its leg. There was no saving it on the trail.”

  “I know, Reese. That was a good horse too.”

  “He was.”

  “Well, I’m ridin’ back to help Lonnie and Jeremy.”

  “Good luck,” Reese said.

  “We’ll get them cows back on track.” Chuck waved and then rode off at a gallop.

  Reese threw the blanket on Rambler’s back, then hoisted the saddle and positioned it on top of the blanket. He slipped on the bridle and removed the halter. He handed the halter to Louella.

  “See you, hon,” he said as he climbed into the saddle.

  “Be careful, Reese,” she said.

  “Lunch when you get through,” Checkers said. “Sandwiches and corn on the cob.”

  “Sounds good,” Reese said. He turned Rambler and rode off to join the other men.

  Then abruptly he stopped and rode back.

  He looked down at Checkers, who was laying out the vittles on a one-by-twelve board he carried in the wagon and had set atop three stones.

  “Forget something?” Checkers asked.

  “Next cow you butcher,” Reese said, “it’s going to be that lead cow. She’s just too headstrong to suit me.”

  “I know the cow,” Checkers said. “You sure?”

  “I’m sure. Butcher her next time you need meat.”

  Louella gasped but said nothing. She watched him ride away, then turned to help Checkers.

  “I hope Reese is doing the right thing,” she said.

  “He is,” Checkers said. “You got an outlaw cow like that, you could be in big trouble the rest of the drive.”

  That lead cow would give me a lot of meat, he thought.

  He would sharpen his knives that very day. They’d be needing more meat soon. And that lead cow would certainly fit the bill.

  Chapter 44

  Lonnie gained headway against the rogue lead cow. He turned her back into the herd. She fought all the way. She moaned and kicked.

  He thought something had sure spooked her. Or maybe she had second sight and knew that menacing arroyo was just ahead.

  The lead cow was turning and twisting as Lonnie chased after her. He thought about breaking out his lariat and throwing it around her neck to bring her to a jarring halt. But there were other cows running right along with her, and the way she was running would make it a difficult catch.

  Jeremy Coates rode up and made his way through the herd.

  “Need some help, Lonnie?” he asked.

  “If you can get ahead of that cow and turn her toward me, that would be a help,” Lonnie replied.

  “Nothing to it,” Jeremy said, and he put the spurs to his horse’s flanks.

  He rode fast until he got ahead of the cows in front of the herd. The lead cow charged at him, her head down, her horns aimed at his horse.

  “Whoa!” Jeremy shouted, and steered his horse away from those dangerous horns. “She’s got a mad on for sure,” he said to Lonnie.

  “Somethin’s gotten into that cow. I ought to shoot her.”

  “Hold on. I’ll try and turn her back.”

  Jeremy took off his hat and rode in front of the lead cow. He swatted the air in front of her nose with it, and she jerked her head up to impale the foreign object.

  Jeremy’s horse danced away, out of harm’s way. The cow charged after him.

  She seemed determined to hold to her path. She snorted and swung her head back and forth, tracking Jeremy on his horse.

  “Can you turn her back, Jeremy?” Lonnie called from a point some yards away on the cow’s flank.

  “I’m tryin’, Lonnie. Damn cow don’t want to turn back.”

  “I know. I think she’s plumb crazy.”

  Jeremy rode past the cow again, batting his hat on her nose. S
he tossed her head and horns, trying to impale the hat.

  But she slowed down.

  So too did the rest of the herd.

  Lonnie rode in alongside the cow and kicked her in the side.

  She turned on him then, and Jeremy rode in close on her other side.

  “Maybe we can box her in,” Jeremy said. “You keep her busy on your side and I’ll nudge her on this side with my horse.”

  And that’s what the two did.

  They held their horses just in back of her head. They jostled her with their horses.

  Just then Chuck Norcross galloped up and saw what was happening.

  “I’ll get ahead of her and see if she’ll stop,” he said.

  “Be careful,” Jeremy said. “She wants to gore anything in her path with them horns.”

  Chuck rode in front of the snorting, head-tossing cow and kicked her square in the nose.

  The cow stabbed at him with her horns. But Chuck and his horse sidled away, just out of reach.

  Jeremy and Lonnie pressed her on both sides with their horses, staying just out of reach of the cow’s horns.

  Chuck turned his horse and rode across the cow’s path. He kicked her again in the snout and she lowered her head and twisted it to try to gore his horse.

  Then she stopped and stood spraddled as the herd swarmed past her before they stopped too. They all looked back at their leader and mooed.

  Chuck rode up and leaned down in front of the ornery cow. He grabbed one horn and twisted it.

  “She needs to be bulldogged,” he said.

  “I’d like to put a damn bullet in her brain,” Lonnie said. “She’s run this herd way off course.”

  It was then that Reese rode up and saw the milling herd, the defiant cow. She was hemmed in by three horsemen.

  “Hold ’em right there,” Reese said.

  “We’re way off our trail, Reese,” Lonnie said.

  “No, we’re not,” Reese said. “I was going to drive them to the end of this here arroyo, then turn back on our track once we got past it.”

  Lonnie lifted his hat and scratched his head.

  “What for?” he asked.

  “I’m not goin’ to drive the herd into that arroyo,” Reese said. “We’ll hold the herd here while one of us rides to the end of this arroyo and finds us a place flat enough to get the herd into Wyoming.”

  “We that close?” Chuck asked.

  “We’re pretty close,” Reese said.

  “I’ll scout out the end of this blamed arroyo,” Chuck said. “Can’t be too far before it peters out.”

  Reese looked at the deep gouge in the land. He could see no end to the arroyo. There was a lot of sagebrush and grass along its border. Dead wildflowers too, withered and tangled in grass. So far, the weather was holding and he was grateful for that. And it was getting warmer.

  “You boys are probably as hungry as bears,” Reese said. “But let’s see what Chuck finds out and then I’ll let two of you boys ride over to the chuck wagon for grub. Two of us will stay here and hold the herd.”

  “I guess me and Lonnie can wait awhile for our chuck,” Jeremy said.

  “You’ll wait on Chuck for your chuck, right, Jeremy?” Chuck said.

  “Or I can wait on Grub for my grub.”

  “Very funny,” Chuck said.

  “Better get to it, Chuck,” Reese said. “Find us a new trail.”

  “You mean a detour,” Jeremy said.

  “Yeah, a detour around this dad-blamed gulley,” Reese said.

  “I’m off like a herd of turtles,” Chuck said, and he turned his horse to the south. He rode away and disappeared.

  “I want you and Jeremy to put ropes on that lead cow,” Reese said to Lonnie. “I want her tied up tight so she can’t run off like a wild cow.”

  Both men untied their lariats. They shook out loops.

  “Ready?” Lonnie asked.

  “You go first, Lonnie,” Jeremy said as he twirled the loop over his head.

  Lonnie wound up and threw his rope at the lead cow’s head.

  The loop encircled the cow’s neck. Lonnie pulled the rope tight.

  Jeremy threw his rope and it landed over Lonnie’s. He took up the slack and the cow was secured on both sides.

  “What do we do now, Reese?” Lonnie asked.

  “Just both of you keep those ropes tight. When you go to the chuck wagon, you’ll drag her with you and tie her to the chuck wagon.”

  “You going to keep her tied to that wagon all the way to Cheyenne?” Jeremy asked.

  “I have other plans for Boss Lady,” Reese said.

  Lonnie and Jeremy rolled and lit cigarettes as they all waited for Chuck to return. The cow stopped struggling and stood in a defiant stance, two ropes holding her in check.

  Chuck returned at a gallop. He was drenched in sweat. He reined up and mopped his forehead with his bandanna.

  “Find the end of the arroyo, Chuck?” Reese asked.

  “Boy, did I!” Chuck said.

  “How far?” Reese asked.

  “’Bout two mile, maybe less. Arroyo peters out all right, but we got to go around a lake.”

  “A lake?” Reese said.

  “Yep. There’s a five-acre lake at the end of this big old ditch.”

  “And beyond the lake?” Reese asked.

  “Flat as a flapjack,” Chuck said. “Lots of land just a-rollin’ on like a green carpet.”

  Reese let out an exhalation of relief.

  His shirt was sweat-stained under his armpits and on his back.

  It was getting hotter as the sun crawled across the sky.

  Just then Ben rode up from the rear of the herd.

  “What’s the holdup?” he asked. “Cattle are bunched up like they was in the loading docks at the slaughterhouse.”

  “See that arroyo there, Ben?” Lonnie asked.

  Ben looked past them at the arroyo. “So?”

  “So it’s a tangle of brush and stuff,” Lonnie said. “Cattle can’t go in there without gettin’ worn down to a nub.”

  “Well, shoot. Them cows back there been fartin’ like thunder and gassin’ me half to death. It seems deliberate.”

  The others laughed, including Reese.

  “Cows have four stomachs, Ben,” Reese said. “And each one of ’em produces gas. It’s got to come out at one end or the other.”

  The men laughed again.

  “Well, shoot,” Ben said. “If I’da knowed that I would have brought along a gas mask.”

  Reese explained to him what Chuck had learned.

  “Who’s watching the tail of the herd, Ben?” he asked.

  “I got Tommy on it. Herd’s bunched up. They ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

  “Get yourself some grub, then relieve Tommy,” Reese said. “We’ll move the herd down past that lake after lunch.”

  “That suits me just fine,” Ben said.

  “Lonnie, you and Jeremy drag that bullheaded cow over to the chuck wagon and get yourselves some grub. After you tie her up, come back here and Chuck and I will go eat.”

  “Fair enough,” Lonnie said.

  Reese looked over at Jeremy. “Ready, Jeremy?”

  “Ready as a bride on weddin’ night,” Jeremy said.

  They followed Ben as he rode toward the chuck wagon.

  “Ben’s right about them cows. When they fart, they like to choke a man to death. That’s why I like horses better’n cows.”

  “Horses fart too,” Reese said.

  “I know. But horses smell better’n cows.”

  “What about people?” Reese asked.

  “Out in the open air, it ain’t so bad. But in a closed room, that’s the worst.”

  Reese laughed. He looked at the herd. They were restless and
lowing. They seemed to sense that water was not far away. Well, they would drink and then be back on the trail.

  And they’d be in Wyoming very soon.

  Chapter 45

  The cattle crowded on the bank of the small lake as Checkers rolled past in the chuck wagon. Tied to the wagon was the lead cow, and she was acting up like a prima donna in chains.

  Lonnie was riding left flank, along with Jeremy. Jeremy was ordered by Reese to ride with Lonnie and learn how to handle cattle. Jeremy was a horse wrangler and did not know much about cattle.

  The herd moved into Wyoming.

  Broken land, low hills, arroyos, and gulches greeted the herders and the herd.

  “This don’t seem like much of a tough job,” Jeremy said as they rode alongside the herd.

  “So far, so good,” Lonnie said.

  “Cows are so dumb,” Jeremy said. “Compared to horses.”

  “They’re not dumb, Jeremy. Cows are herd animals and when they’re following a leader, they look like dumb animals.”

  “They sure do. I never thought I’d be wrangling a bunch of cows. Especially in country like this.”

  “Where do you hail from?” Lonnie asked.

  “Missouri.”

  “What did you do back there?”

  Jeremy laughed.

  “I guess I was kind of a prospector,” he replied.

  “Gold?” Lonnie said.

  “Nope. Silver.”

  “Silver. I didn’t know there was silver in Missouri.”

  Jeremy laughed again. “Well, there’s a story behind my prospectin’, I tell you. It all started with a silver dollar.”

  “Yeah? What do you mean?” Lonnie asked.

  “I was in a saloon up in Springfield. It was just after the war. Barkeep gave me change for a double sawbuck. A bunch of silver dollars. One of ’em looked funny and I picked it up. I read what was writ on the dollar.”

  “What did it say?”

  “It was a Yocum dollar. A Yocum silver dollar.”

  “Never heard of it,” Lonnie said.

  “Me neither. So I asked the barkeep, a man named Artie Ayers. Artie said he got the silver dollar down in the river bottoms around a town he called Branson. White River runs down through there.”