Barefoot and naked, Luke joined them, shivering down to his bones. Ralph threw a blanket over him.
“How did we do?” Luke asked, his teeth chattering.
“Pretty good. Just need to get those snagged steers and we can head on out,” Jack said.
“So I didn’t freeze my ass off for nothing,” Luke said, and they all laughed. “It’s hard to herd cattle, hold on to your horse’s tail and swim at the same time. Doesn’t help that those steers are dumb as rocks too.”
As the crew warmed up, Arnold, rope in hand, swam out to the first steer. The angry bovine wanted to fight him, but the ranger finally got the loop around his horns.
Arnold waved for them to go ahead and swam back to the shore. Shanks and two of the Mexican hands created a lariat at the end of the rope that could be tied to multiple horses. Urging them on, the horses slowly pulled the floundering steer out of the snag. The men and the horses kept slipping on the shore, which had been muddied by thousands of cattle hooves, but they finally pulled the steer from the snag. He came swimming to shore, lowing angrily.
Raul heeled him and stretched him out while Jangles removed the loop of rope.
Arnold, who had been warming by the fire, took the rope and started out toward the second steer. “Let’s get this over with.”
He waded out and as he drew closer the steer started to throw a fit, and Arnold was forced to swim out and come in from the back. He climbed on the steer, riding him like a horse, and fashioned the loop around his huge horns. The spectators shouted and applauded. When he was finished he stood up on the steer’s back and dove back into the muddy water.
Arnold swam to shore as the men pulled the steer through the water. Suddenly the longhorn flipped over and all they could see were his four legs thrashing above the water. Jack felt sure they’d have to eat him, but the steer righted himself and sprayed water like a geyser. Raul rode in and took off the lariat and the steer joined his brothers on the shore. The men cheered. They were finally in Indian Territory, and out of the reach of Hiram Sawyer.
Chapter 23
“They can’t bother us up here,” Jangles said. “Right?”
“Right,” Jack said, cradling a cup of hot coffee in the light of the burning post oak logs.
“There’s no authority on this side of the Red River,” Jangles said, a little awed.
“Yep, no Texas lawman can come up here and serve papers to us. Only a U.S. marshal can do that.”
“Hell, I’d like to have shown my ass to that damn Sawyer back at the river,” Jangles said with a laugh.
“You wouldn’t need to,” Cotton said. “We were all bare-assed for you.”
The whole crew laughed.
“How far are we from Kansas?” Cotton asked.
“A month,” Jangles said. “But it won’t take us a month to get back here.”
“No, it won’t, since our load will be considerably lighter. But remember, it may take time to sell these steers,” Jack warned.
“I’d like to be home by the Fourth of July,” Cotton said. “I think we can make it.”
“We ain’t across Indian Territory yet,” Jack said with a laugh. “We still have a long way to go.”
They turned in for the night, relieved that the day was finally over.
“Nice to be warm at last,” Arnold said from his bedroll.
“Damn nice. I never was so cold in all my life,” Cotton answered.
“Hell, Cotton, you didn’t offer to swim back and get those steers.”
“Naw, I figured ten more minutes in that cold water and I’d be a steer myself.”
Somewhere out in the night a buffalo wolf gave a long, mournful howl while the boys talked from their bedrolls. Jack rolled over and closed his eyes and sleep came swiftly.
A few warmer days followed the river crossing. Plum thickets were in bloom and Indian paintbrush flowers added a look of brightly burning flames to the prairie. Firewood grew scarce as they moved along, and the drivers had to drag every dead branch they could find on the way to their next campsite. Ralph had a leather sack made from old cowhides under the wagon to hold the wood. When they ran out they gathered dry cow pies and buffalo chips. Jack hadn’t seen any of the shaggy beasts since his first drive to Kansas, when there were still small herds roaming the prairies.
As they were plodding along one day, Jack was overwhelmed by a bad feeling. He watched the clear azure sky all day while the temperature rose. The winds grew still and sweat ran down his face.
Earlier he’d mentioned it to Ralph over breakfast. “I’ve got a gut feeling you’ll need to pick high ground for our camp tonight. There wasn’t any dew on the ground this morning, and my grandfather always said you’re liable to get a gully washer when that happens.” Ralph had agreed and set out early along with Luke to scout for the next camp.
Jack noticed how the good grass they’d found in the Indian Territory was beginning to show on his herd. He watched several steers rise at the bell call and lick the hair on their sides in swirls. They looked healthy, but the realization didn’t ease his bad feeling about the weather.
By afternoon they reached their new campground. The steers were scattered, grazing with cowbirds. Most of the cowboys lounged or slept in their bedrolls. Rest was short and far between in a driver’s life. Each had to pull two-hour shifts to guard the herd each night, which gave them even less rest than they wanted. Some of the cowboys would spend the early evening mending their pants or reading the Bible; others would study tattered copies of the Police Gazette. But most simply slept.
Too tired to argue and too busy to do much more than punch cattle, Jack noticed that even Jangles hadn’t been singing much since they’d crossed the Red River. But he knew he needed to trust his men to take care of themselves.
He pushed a white-legged horse called Socks to a high point west of the camp to scope out the surroundings. There was a small glimpse of a cloud bank that he could barely make out in the northwest. He wasn’t sure if they were out of reach of the coming storm, but he prayed they hadn’t used up all their good luck.
Riding back to camp, he knew the best thing to do was to head out before the storm struck. Otherwise, he risked a stampede. He didn’t want to lose a single head—not if he could help it.
He dismounted at the chuck wagon and Ralph met him with a cup of coffee. “You see anything?”
“There’s a cloud wall up there. Doesn’t look good for us. Are there any rivers nearby?”
“Naw. It’s pretty much all rolling country. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about flooding. But I’ll rope and stake the wagon, just in case.”
Jack nodded. “I’ll tell the boys to keep their horses saddled.”
He put Socks on the picket line and walked to where the men were playing cards. “Everyone, keep your ponies saddled. We may have a big storm coming in.”
Cotton shook his head. “We’ve been lucky so far.”
Jangles agreed and discarded two cards.
“It might miss us, but if it’s coming we’ll have to head the cattle up and go.”
The boys nodded gravely and Jack returned to the chuck wagon. “When’s your young ’un due?” Ralph asked, lugging his Dutch oven full of browned biscuits to the fly.
“Late April, early May.”
“Your first child?” Ralph asked.
“Yeah, I left the bachelor game a little later than some.”
“I’d say you’re lucky. Mrs. Starr is a real nice lady.”
“I’m satisfied,” he said as he squatted down and cut in half the steaming hot biscuit Ralph had given him. “Satisfied” was an understatement. Lucy fit him like a good glove and he missed her terribly. The hardest part of the job was their separation. But if they stayed on track he’d be home long before fall.
The storm rolled in after sundown. A wall of roaring thunder, steel blue lightning and torrential rain bore down on them.
The crew quickly pulled on their rubber slickers and swung into their saddles. The smell of nitroge
n and sulfur filled the hot air.
“Everyone needs to be careful and keep track of each other—this is going to be a real test for us,” Jack shouted between loud cracks of thunder.
“You nailed it down?” he shouted at Ralph as the wind shook the hooped canvas top of the wagon.
“Best as I could,” the cook yelled back.
They rode off as Estefan led the remuda through stinging sheets of rain. He was glad he could count on the boy to keep the horses together, and he knew there was little chance of Estefan losing a single one.
Jack’s main concern was the steers. In the flashes of lightning, he could see the hard drops of rain pelting their hides, followed by nickel-sized hailstones. He began herding the stragglers with Jangles, beating a reata on his chaps to move the slowest steers along. Even in a thunderstorm, some steers needed to be driven hard.
Wind threatened to force him out of the saddle and Socks spooked easily at the lightning, swinging hard to the right whenever a particularly large bolt would touch down. Jack spurred him on, chasing after the longhorns who hadn’t joined the line yet.
Soon the four riders had all the cattle lined up and moving. The rain was so oppressive that it was hard to see between the lightning flashes. Jack and Jangles shared a quick nod in passing, then were separated by the curtain of rain. Everyone moved in unison with the herd.
Filled with a deep sense of urgency Jack tried his best to keep everyone moving. But it was worse than the storm on the caprock, especially now that they had two thousand steers to contain and manage. He wondered how many of his boys would be hurt, but just as he started to make a loop around the herd, he felt Socks stumble and go down underneath him.
He kicked free of the stirrups, hoping he was clear enough of the cattle not to get trampled if he needed to leap for it. But when Socks’ head hit the dirt, he was propelled out of the saddle before he could make the jump. He landed hard and rolled just shy of the herd.
Raul rode up and offered his arm to swing Jack up behind him. Knowing that Socks was lost, he had no choice but to accept Raul’s arm. The driver rode east away from the herd and Jack dropped off. Raul rode on to tend to the herd.
There wasn’t much he could do until daybreak but worry about his crew and wait for them to catch up. What felt like a lifetime later, the rain let up and moved northeast. He could see enough by the stars to backtrack the cattle and find the wagon. If Ralph was alright, he’d want to catch up with the crew and make breakfast.
The boys would be beaten half to death. They’d had no sleep and they’d chased cattle all night in the pounding rain. He could sleep for a month himself.
When he reached the wagon in the pink predawn, Ralph was straightening the hoops and tarp of the wagon cover.
“You alright, Captain?”
“Yep, just lost my horse. He went down in the storm and Raul hauled me out of there.”
“Glad you made it okay. I’m about ready to hook up, so we can go see where they ended up.”
With the mules hitched to the wagon and both men on the spring seat, they headed north. The wagon rocked from side to side over the rough spots and the mules brayed woefully, tired from the storm. But Ralph reined them in and they trotted complacently into the night.
Jack saw Jangles coming up hard, sliding to a halt when he finally reached them.
“Oh, thank gawd.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You alright, Captain?”
Jack stood up in the wagon. “I’m fine. How’s the crew?”
“We’re looking for one of the boys. Either’s missing.” Jangles said.
“They figure he’s alright?’
“He had a bad runaway horse that got spooked by the storm.”
Jack was worried, but he didn’t want to jump the gun until they had more information. “Did you see Socks on the trail?”
“Yep, I left your saddle beside the trail. Had to shoot him. His leg was broken when I found him.”
Jack thanked him and Jangles nodded. “I’m going to look for Either.”
“Good young man,” Ralph said as Jangles galloped away. “I figured he was just a kid when I first met him, but he’s a solid second in command. He’s the real deal.” He slapped the lazy right-hand mule’s back with the lines and continued on.
Jack felt trapped on the wagon seat without a horse. He wondered what else they’d lost and he wished he could join Jangles in the search for Either. There was no telling what could’ve happened to him.
When they spotted Either’s sack beside the trail, Ralph pulled over. Jack loaded the saddle, pad, and bridle on the chuck wagon, then they drove on. There was no sign of the horse. An hour later they found the crew dressing two fallen steers under a lone cottonwood.
“How is everyone?” Jack asked.
“Fine,” Shanks said, using his large knife to skin the second one.
“Did Either show up? Jangles was looking for him.”
“I’m here, Captain. My horse ran away and I got lost in the dark, but even on this great prairie a man can’t help but run into a crowd of two thousand steers.”
“I’m glad you could take care of yourself,” Jack said, clapping him on the back. “Now, one of you boys ride back and find Jangles. He’s worried and looking all over for Either.”
Raul volunteered and the rest continued carving up the meat.
“Boss man,” Shanks said, waving the knife at one of the hanging steers. “Ain’t no way we can eat both of them before they rot. We been talking; there were two Injun women here this morning and we gave them all the guts. They said they had nothing left to eat.”
“You want them to have one of the steers?”
“Thought it would be the right thing to do; there ain’t no market for them out here.”
“You know where they live?”
“It can’t be far.”
“You get ’em skinned, load one on a horse, take a couple of the boys and go play Santa Claus.”
Everyone laughed, feeling good about the charitable act.
“I’ll have some breakfast shortly,” Ralph promised.
“We couldn’t find but them two crippled steers this morning,” Luke said. “Pretty damn scary business, running out there in the dark. I wondered what I’d tell Maw if you didn’t show up.”
“I had the same problem when you went out of sight around that bend in the Red River.”
Luke smiled sheepishly. “Hell, I was alright.”
He hugged the boy’s shoulder. “Well, now we don’t have to tell her a thing.”
Luke laughed. “Amen. Amen.”
Chapter 24
After the crew was reassembled, they rested for two days. The Indian camp, which consisted mostly of women and small children, had a big feast and the women brought Jack a brightly colored embroidered shirt as a thank-you gift.
“Thank you,” he said politely, not sure if he’d ever have an occasion to wear such a garment. “Where are your men?” he asked.
“Building railroad far away.” The oldest of the women waved her arm toward the north.
“You reckon they’re working or off raiding?” Jangles muttered under his breath after they’d left.
“Exactly my thoughts. Tomorrow I’ll ride up north and look things over. Can you get this outfit on the road if I leave early?” Jack asked him.
“Do you think anything’s wrong?”
“Probably nothing to do with Injuns. But it reminded me that the last time I was up here there were some gangs that raided cattle drives and folks moving through on the Kansas-Indian Territory borders. They were peddling moonshine liquor and causing trouble. They’d avoid U.S. marshals by going into Kansas when things got too heated.”
“You need any backing?”
“Naw, just keep the cattle moving. I’ll be back before you have to cross the Canadian.”
After he left camp he short-loped Mac toward Kansas. When he crossed the Canadian on the ferry, which was run by a grizzly faced black man, he asked him, “Is there
still a gang or two up here causing trouble?”
Pulling on the towrope hand over hand, the man nodded. “They be several of dem up here.”
“Ever hear of a man called Julius Knotts?” he asked.
“I’s don’t know them names. They’s come through here sometimes and I minds my own business.”
“I understand.”
“Yessuh, de best way to get youself killed is to ask questions of the likes of them.”
“You hear any names of their gangs?”
“No, suh.”
Jack found a store at the next road crossing. JENNINGS’ STORE, the hand-painted sign read. He dismounted and went inside. The store had a crisp smell, and the woman behind the counter wore a clean dress and a starched apron.
“May I help you?”
“I was looking to buy some lunch.”
“We have meat or cheese sandwiches for ten cents, sir.”
“You have ham?”
“Yes, wonderful smoked ham on freshly baked bread.”
“Sounds good—I’ll take two of ’em.” He waited until she had prepared the sandwiches before asking his next questions.
“I’m looking for a man called Knotts. Julius Knotts. You ever heard of him?”
She tilted her head. “Why do you ask? You don’t look like the law. Are you a bounty man?”
“I might be; I might not be. You know where he is?”
She smirked, placing a hand on her hip. “For a price, perhaps.”
“How much?”
“Ten dollars. I don’t think that’s an unfair price. Everyone’s got to get by.”
Jack wasn’t sure he agreed, but he counted out ten silver dollars on the smooth wood counter between them and leaned over until his face was level with hers. “Where can I find him?”
“He’s staying at Barney Snows’ place,” she said as she quickly tucked the money into her apron.
“You’re sure?”
“He’s been there for a few months.”
“Who’s this Barney Snows?”
“A bootlegger and outlaw. Word has it he was the mastermind behind the robbery of the Seminole Annuity two years ago.”
North to the Salt Fork Page 17
