The Virginia City Trail

by Ralph Compton

  EPILOGUE

  Nelson Story married the former Ellen Trent, of Neoshe, Kansas, and five of their seven children reached adulthood. One son, Nelson Story, Jr., became Montana’s lieutenant governor. In addition to Story’s cattle empire, he brought two hundred brood mares from California and established a horse ranch. Story supplied beef to the Crow Agency, Fort Ellis, Fort C.F. Smith, and to regional army posts. Before the railroads came, Story had thousands of oxen in freighting and industrial service. Story had wholesale houses in St. Louis that ran freight steamers up the Missouri, delivering cargo to Story wagons that freighted from ports in Dakota and Montana. Story had keel boats on the Big Horn and Yellowstone rivers, as well. He invested in mines, industry, and lands. Story was instrumental in opening the first bank in Montana. It later became the Gallatin Valley Bank of Bozeman, with Story as president. In 1919 the Story Flour Mills merged with other plants to further develop the state’s milling industry. Story eventually retired, selling his ranching empire, financing skyscrapers in California. He owned two family homes, one in Bozeman and one in Los Angeles. Nelson Story was an empire builder, but in western history, one deed is honored by elective membership in the National Cowboy Hall of Fame and Great Western Heritage Center at Oklahoma City, and that is Story’s cattle drive from Texas to Montana Territory in 1866. Story died in 1926, at the age of eighty-eight, in Los Angeles, California.

  Colonel Henry B. Carrington, commanding officer at Fort Phil Kearny, is best remembered for his participation in events leading up to the infamous Fetterman massacre of December 21, 1866, in which seventy-eight soldiers and two civilians died.

  John Wesley Hardin was shot to death in El Paso, Texas, on August 19, 1895. He was shot in the back of the head by Constable John Selman. At the time of his death, Hardin had more than thirty notches on his gun, and was considered one of the deadliest gunmen ever to come out of the state of Texas.

  FOLLOW THE HERD IN THE DODGE CITY TRAIL— ANOTHER TRAIL DRIVE TITLE FROM RALPH COMPTON. AN EXCERPT FOLLOWS:

  The bawling, cantankerous herd plodded on, defying all efforts to prod them into a faster gait. It became a futile race with time, and Dan’s eye was on the ever lowering sun. Since the wagons and the horses had gone on ahead, Dan rode to the point position. The longhorns had their heads down, their tongues lolling, but they still needed something or someone to follow. The oppressive heat seemed to rise out of the very earth, surrounding them, and not a breath of air stirred.

  The critical time would come after sundown, when a tantalizing wind from the northwest could bring a hint of water. In but a few seconds their cause could be lost, their efforts in vain, as the massive herd thundered across the plains, out of control. Repeatedly, Dan turned in his saddle, watching the lead steers. The faster gait, which he had fought to establish at the start of the day, had dwindled until the herd seemed moving even more slowly than before. But there was nothing more the riders could do. The brutes bawled in dismal cacophony as they stumbled along a trail that seemed endless.

  The westering sun seemed to rest on the distant horizon for a few minutes, and then began to slip away in a burst of crimson glory. Dan removed his hat, sleeving the sweat from his eyes. He judged they had maybe an hour before a treacherous wind might betray them. With that thought in mind, he distanced himself from the herd, riding far enough ahead that he might escape a thundering, thirst-crazed avalanche if he had to. The sun was long gone and purple twilight approaching when Dan received the first hint of impending disaster. So weary was he that at first he didn’t notice, but the thirsty longhorns did. Their frenzied bellows seemed to come simultaneously from twenty thousand parched throats. There was a gentle breeze from the northwest, cooling to Dan’s sweaty, blistered face. There was a thunder of hooves as the thirsty longhorns responded, and Dan rode for his life. When the herd fanned out, they would come at him in a deadly swath a mile wide. He rode west until he was sure he was out of the path of the stampede. He waited until the danger was past, and then rode back, catching up to the drag riders. Dejected, they sat their saddles amid the settling dust, watching the last of the herd vanish into the twilight.

  “A hard day for nothing,” Odessa Chambers sighed, “and God knows how many days rounding them up.”

  “One thing in our favor,” said Dan, “they won’t run beyond the water.”

  “No, but they might scatter the length of it,” Adeline said wearily.

  “That’s something we’ll have to contend with in the morning,” said Dan. “It’ll be dark before we reach the river. Let’s ride.”

  Dan estimated the distance at five miles. Eventually they smelled smoke, evidence that they were nearing the river and their camp. Silas had a fire going, and somewhere beyond it was the sound of cattle splashing around in the river.

  “We got here with the wagons in time to fill all our pots and kegs with clear water,” Silas said. “Them thirsty varmints is likely to muddy it up for the rest of the night.”

  “Let’s hope they stand right there in it till daylight,” said Monte Walsh. “Last time the bastards stampeded, it took us a week to round ’em up. Now we got twice as many.”

  Dan rode across the river to find the horse herd and see to the safety of the young wranglers. To his relief, he found them and their charges a quarter of a mile north of the river.

  “They was all watered and out of the way when the longhorns hit the water,” Denny said proudly.

  “The four of you handled it just right,” said Dan. “It’s something to keep in mind. If there’s a water problem somewhere along the trail, we may be faced with this again. The longhorns have settled down, so we can drive the horses a little closer to the river. By then supper should be ready.”

  Supper was mostly a silent affair. Nobody even wanted to think about tomorrow, and the task of rounding up the scattered herd.

  “Watches tonight as usual,” Dan said, “but you can forget about the herd. Just stay close to camp, keep an eye on the wagons, and join the wranglers in seeing that nobody bothers the horses.”

  THE DODGE CITY TRAIL BY RALPH COMPTON—ANOTHER EXCITING ADDITION TO THE TRAIL DRIVE SERIES!

  THE TRAIL DRIVE SERIES

  by Ralph Compton

  From St. Martin’s Paperbacks

  The only riches Texas had left after the Civil War were five million maverick longhorns and the brains, brawn and boldness to drive them north to where the money was. Now, Ralph Compton brings this violent and magnificent time to life in an extraordinary epic series based on the history-blazing trail drives.

  THE GOODNIGHT TRAIL (BOOK 1)

  THE WESTERN TRAIL (BOOK 2)

  THE CHISOLM TRAIL (BOOK 3)

  THE BANDERA TRAIL (BOOK 4)

  THE CALIFORNIA TRAIL (BOOK 5)

  THE SHAWNEE TRAIL (BOOK 6)

  THE VIRGINIA CITY TRAIL (BOOK 7)

  THE DODGE CITY TRAIL (BOOK 8)

  THE OREGON TRAIL (BOOK 9)

  THE SANTA FE TRAIL (BOOK 10)

  THE OLD SPANISH TRAIL (BOOK 11)

  THE GREEN RIVER TRAIL (BOOK 12)

  THE DEADWOOD TRAIL (BOOK 13)

  AVAILABLE WHEREVER BOOKS ARE SOLD

  FROM ST. MARTIN’S PAPERBACKS

  TD 1/00

  CRIES FROM THE EARTH

  A PLAINSMEN NOVEL

  TERRY C. JOHNSTON

  BY MID-1877, trouble in the Northwest is brewing like a foul broth. Ill will is growing between white settlers and the Non-Treaty bands of the Nez Perce. The American government is forcing the Indians from their homelands onto the reservation. Many go quietly, thinking more about their families than of the pride of their warriors. But for a few hold-outs, there’s no room for compromise. Their history, their heritage, and their ancestors are buried beneath that land. Although severely outnumbered and outgunned, a few brave warriors will heed the call of cries from the earth . . .

  “Rich and fascinating . . . There is a genuine flavor of the period and of the men who made it what it was.”

 
—Washington Post Book World

  “The author’s attention to detail and authenticity, coupled with his ability to spin a darned good yarn, makes it easy to see why Johnston is today’s bestselling frontier novelist. He’s one of a handful that truly knows the territory.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  AVAILABLE WHEREVER BOOKS ARE SOLD

  FROM ST. MARTIN’S PAPERBACKS

  CRIES 5/01