by Lou Bradshaw
They seemed concentrated from the middle of the herd to the front. In fact it was an all out head on attack. Raiders were trying to cut the herd in two from the sides, what military men would call pincers. They had been counting on the element of surprise, but Cain had given us enough warning to at least keep the killing of our men down to something less than a massacre. I was at about midway to the front and shooting at anybody I hadn’t ate supper with during the past few days.
When my sixgun was empty, I was using my rifle. I saw some of our men from the rear closing in hard and fast. I judged that there were about a dozen raiders, and their primary goal seemed to be, to eliminate the drovers first and then worry about the herd. I saw Graves trying to keep his horse under him and get out of the milling mass of horns when one of the raiders took aim and shot him down into that hell of hooves… That was the last shot he would ever take. I sent a .44 caliber piece of lead through the back of his neck.
Blue was on the other side of the herd and I heard the boom of his shotgun sending someone to hell. The dust and smoke was so thick that you couldn’t see much until you were practically on top of what was there. I came out of the dust in time to see a raider level his gun at one of the vaqueros. I was close and at his blind side, so I just dug those California spurs in and my horse slammed into his causing it to scramble trying to keep its footing. It couldn’t and both man and beast went down. Mine went up and over putting a hoof into the man’s chest. My gelding stumbled and went down, but he came right back up and I went back into the saddle.
Quickly reloading my handgun, I went looking for targets. I didn’t give the man on the ground a second thought. He bought into the game, but he came up a card short. The men coming up from the rear were a God send. They made all the difference. They were able to reinforce the middle and help watch each other’s backs, so that some of us could race to the front and lend a hand there. I could hear shots above and over the bawling of the cattle, so I knew that there was still a battle going on at point. I broke out of the dust to see one of our men on the ground using his dead horse for cover looking for someone to shoot.
I yelled and told him to stay where he was that more of our men were coming up from the rear. He shook his head and waved me on. With all the dust and the late hour, it was getting harder and harder to tell who was who.
Reaching what would be the front of the herd, if there had been any semblance of a herd instead of a bunch of scattered and scared steers, I found the battle over and wasn’t sure at first who had won. I quickly reloaded both rifle and pistol and expected the worst. The dust was settling and I could make out cattle milling around and a few bodies here and there. Then I saw one of our horses standing head down off to the right. It looked like someone was crouched on the other side of it. I knew there would be any number of injuries and worse, so I moved over toward the horse and crouching figure, very slowly.
Warily I circled the man and horse with my rifle at the ready. I was about twenty yards out and I never took my muzzle pointed at anything but the middle of that crouched figure. Then I saw the sprawled body the figure was crouching over. I raised the weapon and released the hammer. “Who is it, Tater? Who’s down?”
He swung around to where I could see his tear streaked face and said, “It’s Dick, Max. Dick Kelly, them bastards shot him in the back! They shot him down like a dog, Max… like a mangy mad dog cur!” He was almost screaming and his voice was broken with sobs. “He was a good boy, Max, he deserved better than that… He was just a…” his voice trailed off into near silent sobs.
“Stay with him, Tate. I’ll move on around and see who made it out and do what killin’ that still needs doing. Reload your guns and keep your eyes open.” He shook his head in silent reply, and then pulled his sixgun and started feeding cartridges from his belt. “Someone from the rear will be along soon to help you get him moved away from the herd.
I pulled myself back into the saddle and started moving around the cattle. We would be days getting this bunch back to looking like a trail drive… if there were enough of us to drive cattle. For all I knew Tate and I were the only ones alive this far forward. I could hear sporadic firing over on the other side but none of it close to us.
Chapter 11
I spent the next hour moving cattle back into the main group, and looking for anybody who might be alive. I heard the click of a horse’s hoof and the creak of leather before I could see the faint image in the gloom. My Colt had been my constant companion since I’d left Tate. I eased the hammer back, even though I didn’t need to, but I wanted to give the rider a chance to identify himself before I shot into the dark.
“Andy Mur.” Came out of the darkness, and right behind it came the sound of a hammer being drawn back.
I answered with, “Max Bell… Come ahead.” Out of the darkness came Jesus with his big old Walker Colt pointed in my direction. I couldn’t tell who was happier to see whom.
I filled him in on what had happened on the right flank and about the men moving up from the rear. I told him about Cook who was using his dead horse as cover and Tate… and Dick Kelly. I also told him about Graves getting shot in the back. That three men were down as far as I knew.
He told me that he knew two of our men were down and several wounded or hurt. They had killed at least four raiders, and had taken four prisoners… three of them were hurt. By my calculations, that accounted for ten for sure and maybe eleven rustlers, counting at least two that I’d shot or run down. Since we didn’t know how many were involved, we didn’t know how many more were still out there.
I asked if he’d seen anything of Ben Blue and he said, “Benito saved the day when he came galloping in on that big gray horse. We were fighting two or three at once, sometimes it was man to man and face to face. That big horse just shoved through, and Benito was using his rifle like a club.”
“When it was over and those who fell before Benito’s rifle butt were tied and guarded, he asked if I would mind riding over this way to see how things were.” He thought for a moment, and then said, “Max”, which came out Mah, “You notice that Benito never tells you what to do… but he always asks you if you do it and thanks you for it?”
“Yes, Jesus, I have noticed that. I think that big ole country boy is what could be called a Hillbilly Gentleman.”
Since we had covered both sides of the herd, we put together a fire made coffee and fried up what we had in our saddle bags then we waited for morning. We split the watch in two hour shifts. Both of us were worn to nubs and desperately needed sleep.
I woke up to a hand on my shoulder, and as my wont I took a quick tally of where I was and who was with me. I heard Jesus whisper, “Someone comes.” My right hand was on my sixgun, and left eased the blanket off. With eyes searching the early morning mist and gloom for movement, Jesus showed me the direction to look.
It was still before dawn, but the sun was starting to brighten the sky out over the plains. I heard the sound of an iron shod hoof on hard pack dirt and gravel. Then I heard, “Andy Moore”.
“Come in to the fire, Ben.” I said, but I kept my Colt at the ready just in case I’d made a mistake in voice recognition…. I hadn’t.
Ben brought his big gray gelding out into the open. He sat there with his hands on the saddle horn, and then he broke into a smile and said, “Bell, I never thought I say a scruffy dirty raggedy assed man was pretty, but you’re about the prettiest thing I’ve seen this morning.”
As he was climbing down he said, “I knew that Jesus made it through the fight, but I had no idea what had happened on the other side of the herd. Did we lose any of our friends?”
I was gratified to hear him ask about the men before he asked about the cattle. I stood there for a moment with my eyes focused on something in the dust between us. Finally, I said, “Ben, we’ve lost two that I know of, and one more that I’m not sure of.” I told him about Dick Kelly and Graves, and there was the vaquero that I wasn’t sure of. “Some of our men from the rear c
losed up and helped break the raid. Otherwise we’d a been in deep trouble.”
“I figure that I got at least two rustlers that I knew for sure and probably got lead into a couple more that I didn’t have time to count coup on…. It was a bloody battle, Ben.”
He stood looking at that same something in the dust that had occupied my interests only seconds ago and then he swore a barely audible oath and asked, “Did you happen to see Ralls or Slack?” I told him that I hadn’t.
We built up the fire and fried up some bacon that Ben had in his saddle bag and made another pot of coffee. Then he rode over to the east side. We decided to make this camp the headquarters and gather everyone here to take stock and start gathering the herd again. I stayed with the fire and Jesus went to the west side to bring the survivors and prisoners in.
Not long after they left, the chuck wagon came in from the north. The cook said he wasn’t sure if he should come in or not, but he hadn’t heard any shooting and figured the rustlers would have been moving the cattle if they had taken over. “Besides,” he said, “even rustlers got to eat.” I left him in charge and followed Ben to the east.
When I caught up with him, our men were finishing up burying three of our boys, Dick Kelly, Graves, and Rico. Ben’s face was a definition of grim. He was hurt and he was mad. James L. Tate was a bundle of nerves. He was a young man who probably never had a really good friend. Now he had one cruelly torn away from him. He acted as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.
I took him by the arm and walked him away from the others. We walked a ways and I told him, “Tate, I know you’re torn up, and you’ve some steam to let off, so by God let her go.”
He cried, cussed, swore, and raged for about a quarter mile. Then he said, “Max, Dick was the best friend I ever had. We’d become saddle partners. After this drive we were both gonna go down to New Mexico or Arizona and git jobs on a ranch or start our own. We had it all worked out, and them bastards wrecked everything…. Max, he was my partner and it was my job to watch out for him, but he got killed anyway.”
As we walked back, I let him get it all out… and he did. Finally I said, “You just learned one hard lesson, and there wasn’t anything that was your fault. I was in that mess, so I know what it was like, but I couldn’t save Graves or Rico even though I tried. I killed one man who was trying to shoot Rico, but he died anyway. Sometimes it just ain’t in our ability. It’s just luck that you and me are still alive.”
“How old are you, Tate… nineteen… twenty?”
“Eighteen.” He said.
“I wish I could tell you that it gets easier to see a friend die as you get older. But it doesn’t. It still hurts like hell. You just seem to be able to handle it better with age… Come on let’s get back to the crew and get on with fixin’ this mess.”
When we got back to the bunch, I gripped his shoulder and said, “Go on and wash your face and get your horse.”
The boys had piled up five gunbelts and two rifles that had been taken from the bodies of rustlers. The personal matter of our fallen comrades was collected and letters would be sent by Ben if kinfolk could be located. The dead outlaws were left where they lay. There wasn’t much interest in showing any shadow of kindness or respect. We only took their weapons to keep them out of the hands of the Cheyenne.
When the men were all gathered at the chuck wagon, we had a hasty meal and plenty of coffee, then we started out to bunch the herd again and take a tally. The prisoners were tied to four separate trees and their boots taken. The cook carried Ben’s short barreled shotgun and had orders to shoot any of who got loose.
It was about mid morning, and I was just bringing in a bunch I’d found just standing on the prairie wondering what they were supposed to do. I showed em what they were supposed to do and they took to it readily. Cattle were coming in on their own in ones and twos. It seemed that they wanted to be with their own kind far better than to be alone. I saw Cain riding into the fire. I got there just as he was getting a cup of coffee from the cook.
“Howdy, Bell, you seen Blue?” he asked. I told him that I hadn’t seen him in over an hour, but he should be along soon. Right on cue, Ben rode in pushing a group of five steers.
He pushed them into the herd and turned and rode back to the chuck wagon. Ben was in the beginning stages of thanking Cain when he was interrupted, “You got yourself a problem, boss.” Cain told him.
“What’s that?” Ben asked.
“You been hit by a lot more men than you figgered.” Cain said. “Most of em hit the front of the herd, an while you was fightin’ ‘em, the rest was runnin’ off about a third of your cows from the back end.”
“You sure bout that, Cain?”
“Sure as I’m lookin at you…. Looks like about five men drove em off to the south.”
“Bang your dinner bell; bring the boys in, Cooky.” And the cook took out a rusty piece of iron hung on a chain and gave it about six or eight quick whacks.
Within minutes, riders were coming in from all directions. When they had all assembled Ben told them, “Boys, looks like those rustlers were a bit smarter than I was… They ran off a bunch at the tail end of the herd. It could be as many as a thousand head…. Guess they planned to sacrifice those boys who hit us, and take off with easy pickins.”
“I’d like to take three men with me, and leave the rest here to gather and take care of the herd.” I lifted my hand and stepped forward, as did Cain and Tate.
“Okay.” He said. “I’m leavin’ Jesus in charge…. Just keep ‘em on grass and water. If you find a likely place, stay there…. Anybody have a problem with taking orders from Jesus, he can draw his time now because I don’t want to hear about it when I get back.”
When all that was settled, the cook asked, “What about them prisoners? How long have I gotta be their jailer?”
Ben scratched the red stubble on his chin for a few seconds and said, “I can’t be a part of a hangin’, but I can’t stop you fellas from doing what has to be done…. But if you have to hang one, you might as well hang ‘em all. That way if one causes trouble then they all pay the consequences. Best way I know of to keep trouble from startin’.”
Ben had already spent some serious time with the prisoners, and to a man, they had given both Slack and Ralls up. I don’t know exactly what he said to them, but while he was saying it he paced back and forth in front of the four men who were bound and seated on the ground. While he was discussing the matter of who was in charge of the operation he had a one pound can of blasting powder in his right hand and a lit cigar in his left hand. Yes, they had plenty to say.
Then Ben and Jesus went into a closed conference, which lasted about a quarter hour. I can only suppose that Ben was giving Jesus orders as to what to do if we don’t come back in a given time.
We each selected two horses from the remuda and saddled up. Each man took enough food for a week and headed south on the same trail we’d just traveled heading north.
Chapter 12
The rustlers had almost a day’s head start on us, but we had no trouble following the trail. A thousand head of cattle make a pretty distinct trail, and the outlaws didn’t seem to be pushing them too hard. The way Ben and I figured it; Ralls and Slack were counting on a bloody war at the front of the herd with few survivors on either side. And if there were any survivors the loss of the rear portion of the herd wouldn’t be noticed for several days due to the scattering of the main body.
We found where they had turned off the main trail and started the herd into the foothills on the mountain side of the trail. First night’s camp was in the mouth of a canyon about two miles back in the foothills. We had a small well concealed fire for coffee and beans, which was the identical menu the next morning for breakfast.
As soon as we could see, we were mounted and moving. Switching horses often, we were able to keep moving at a lope or at worst, brisk trot. From the droppings, it appeared that we were within five or six hours behind and gaining steadily.
They knew where they were going and were taking a bee line right to it.
Darkness overtook us and we made a dry camp in the pines. Not knowing exactly how close we were, we didn’t chance a fire for fear that they may be closer than we thought. I can live without hot food, but I sure missed the hot coffee.
Ben and I were sitting on a log talking and speculating, Tate had turned in… boys his age need a good deal of sleep, and Cain was pacing. Something was bothering him. He would go to the edge of the grove and pear into the darkness, and then pace and prowl some more. This went on for ten or fifteen minutes.
Finally he said, “Boss, I’m sniffin’ up traces of wood smoke. I think we’re real close.”
“Yeah,” Ben said, “I’m catchin’ it too. But if we were close enough to smell their cook fire, we’d be hearin’ and smellin’ cattle.”
“That’s the same way I been thinkin’, it jus don’t make no sense.”
“You think you can find em in the dark, Cain?” He asked.
“From the direction that the wind’s blowing, all I gotta do is head that way and start drinkin’ their coffee… Hell, boss, I could find em with my eyes closed.” With that, he just melted into the darkness.
“Mays as well get some sleep, Max.” Ben said, “We’ll be leavin’ here in about 4 hours time…. I’ll stand first watch.”
The next thing I knew, Ben was shaking my shoulder and I was sweeping out cobwebs from my skull. “Cain came in about an hour ago.” He told me. “They’re not more than a quarter mile away with a nice warm fire hidden back in a draw. But there ain’t no cattle with em. He said there were six of them, and they’re celebrating…. So they must have sold the cattle already… When that fancy watch of yours says two thirty, you wake me and we’ll go help em with the festivities.”
“You’ll only get about an hour sleep, Ben. You should have woke me sooner.” I told him. He mumbled something as he was pulling the blanket over his head.
