In the late afternoon the distant storm began to subside. The thunder and lightning became less frequent, and the anxious riders could only hope that its duration had been sufficient for the thirst-crazed herd to free itself from the desert and reach water.
“Pitkin’s conscious and wantin’ to talk to you,” Nip Kelly said.
“He has no business awake and talking,” said Gavin. “Why didn’t you give him enough whiskey to knock him out again?”
“He wouldn’t have it,” Nip said. “Not until he talks to you.”
Pitkin lay under a blanket, his head on a saddle. Gavin hunkered down beside him.
“Kelly wouldn’t tell me anything,” said Pitkin, “except that the arrow has been taken out, and that I should be dead drunk. Where is the herd? I can no longer hear them.”
“There was a storm—with wind, thunder, and lightning—maybe twenty-five miles ahead of us,” Gavin said. “All it took was a hint of water, and they were off and running.”
“I suppose it was for the best,” said Pitkin, “with so many of us wounded. What are our chances of rounding up at least some of the herd, when we’re able to catch up to them?”
“Better than you’d expect, I think,” Gavin replied. “Accordin’ to your map, maybe ten miles this side of the Cimarron, is Sand Creek. Back in Council Grove, Woody and me was told Sand Creek is dry most of the time, flowin’ only after a cloudburst. I’d say what we just witnessed was the grandpappy of all cloudbursts. If there’s water in Sand Creek, we’ll find every last cow alive and well. But we can’t travel. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Thank you,” said Pitkin. “How are Woody, Naomi, Wiley, and Whit?”
“They’ll all need time to heal,” Gavin said, “but they’re not facing anything worse than massive hangovers.”
“Excellent,” said Pitkin. “Now you may have Kelly fetch that venomous whiskey.”
“There ain’t enough in this bottle to see him through a bout of fever,” Kelly said. “We’ll be needin’ more whiskey by sometime tonight.”
“When the bottle’s empty, bring it to me,” said Gavin. “I’ll refill it from one of the barrels in one of the Stubbs wagons.”
Gavin found Bonita, Jania, and Laketa watching over Wiley and Whit.
“We feel terribly useless, just doing nothing,” Bonita said.
“There’s not much any of us can do, with so many wounded,” said Gavin. “All of you held your own during the Indian attack, and that’s when it counted. You can all watch over Wiley and Whit during the night, giving them more whiskey when it’s needed. We’re just about out of the stuff, and we may have to tap a keg in one of your wagons.”
“Take it,” Bonita said. “I’m just thankful it’s here, when there’s a need for it.”
After supper, Gavin spoke to the outfit.
“It’s unlikely there’ll be any Indian trouble at night, unless there’s some Comanches around, but we’ll still need a watch. That’ll depend on Nip, Rusty, Vic, Ash, and me. Let’s go with two of us on the first watch and three on the second. I’ll be one of the three on the second.”
“I want to help in some way,” said Nell.
“You’re goin’ to,” Gavin said. “I’m putting you in charge of dosing Woody and your daddy with whiskey until their fever breaks.”
“What about Naomi?” Nell asked.
“I’ll be checking on her,” said Gavin.
“We’ll be looking after Wiley and Whit,” Laketa said, “but isn’t there something more we can do?”
“Yes,” said Gavin. “Keep your Winchesters handy, and if there’s more trouble, meet it like you did that Indian attack.”
Before the first watch took over, Gavin saw to it that the horses and mules each had a small ration of water. It wasn’t enough, but it would keep them alive. Before the start of the second watch, Gavin enlisted Vic’s help in drawing enough whiskey from one of the barrels to fill the four whiskey bottles. There was no moon, and the desolation of the desert made the silence seem all the more intense.
“Sometime during the night,” said Gavin, “those Indians will reclaim their dead. We’ll allow them to, as long as they don’t make any hostile moves.”
“Good thinkin’,” Vic said. “They had one hell of a bad day in battle, and sometimes it hits ’em as a bad omen, and they’ll give it up.”
“I’d settle for that,” said Rusty.
The three saw and heard nothing. Gavin went twice to look in on Naomi, and finding her with a fierce fever, forced her to drink more whiskey. At first light, there was not a sign of the Indians who had fallen on the sandy plain. While Gonzales prepared breakfast, Gavin made the rounds of the wounded.
“Father and Woody began sweating a short while ago,” Nell announced.
“They’re back among the living, then,” said Gavin. “No more whiskey.”
When Gavin touched Naomi’s face, he found it moist. She opened her eyes.
“How do you feel?” Gavin asked.
“Like I’ve had nothing to drink in months, and my head’s about to explode.”
“I’ll bring you some water,” said Gavin, “and then you’ll have to take another slug of that whiskey. You, dear girl, have a man-sized hangover.”
Gavin found Wiley and Whit conscious, begging for water.
Gavin laughed. “Don’t complain, gents. You’ve been drinkin’ your own whiskey.”
“God,” Whit said, “we should’ve sold all of it while we was in Dodge. We’ll likely it run out of Santa Fe for peddlin’ this stuff.”
The sun rose hot and merciless, and the sandy plain was devoid of any movement except an occasional dust devil. By noon, all the wounded were able to take nourishment, and for the first time, Woody learned of the stampede.
“I reckon it saved my bacon,” said Woody. “God knows, I’d played my last card, and needin’ an ace, drew a deuce. How’s Pit takin’ it?”
“Better than you’d expect,” Gavin replied. “You remember, back at Council Grove, we was told somethin’ about Sand Creek, eight or ten miles this side of the Cimarron?”
“Yeah,” said Woody. “Except after a cloudburst, Sand Creek’s nearly always dry.”
“Well, the cloudburst that stampeded the herd may have left Sand Creek runnin’ bank-full,” Gavin said. “That bein’ the case, it means the herd was maybe fifteen miles away from water. Like I told Pitkin, there’s a good chance we can round up the herd when we catch up to them.”
“I reckon you didn’t mention the possibility that Sand Creek may have dried up again, before we can get there,” said Woody.
“Damn it,” Gavin said, “you’d pile a heavy burden on a man, wouldn’t you?”
Gavin found Pitkin cheerful enough, despite the fact he likely had a massive hangover, and was restless because of the delay.
“How much longer must we remain here?”
“I figure two more days,” said Gavin. “By then, our barreled water will be low, and we’ll be forced to move on. Do you think you’ll be up to it?”
“I shall be ready to go tomorrow,” Pitkin said stiffly, “but I suppose I must consider the others. I suppose you have seen to Naomi?”
“Yes,” said Gavin. “She’s in no danger.”
“I suppose you are posting an adequate guard, should the Indians return.”
“I am,” Gavin said, becoming irritated by Pitkin’s apparent doubt of his capabilities.
But that very night, the Indians returned. Not to fight, but to take captives. Not until Gavin, Vic, and Rusty were about to begin the second watch did they learn something had definitely gone wrong.
“Where’s Bonita?” Vic asked.
“She had some business away from camp,” Laketa said.
“Which way?” Vic asked, becoming alarmed.
“Over there beyond the wagons,” said Laketa.
“Rusty,” Gavin said, “get the lantern from the chuck wagon.”
Rusty brought the lantern on the run, and by i
ts dim light, they found exactly what Gavin had feared. There were three sets of moccasin tracks.
“It wouldn’t take three Indians to subdue Bonita,” Gavin said. “I’m afraid they might have taken Nell or Naomi, or perhaps both. Wait for me.”
Gavin found Naomi asleep, and a few feet away, Gladstone Pitkin also slept. Gently as he could, Gavin awakened Naomi.
“Naomi, do you know where Nell is?”
“No,” said Naomi. “Why?”
“Indians have taken Bonita Stubbs,” Gavin said. “There were three of them, and I had to be sure they hadn’t taken you or Nell.”
“But now you believe they have,” said Naomi.
“Yes,” Gavin replied, “and we can’t trail them until first light. Don’t wake Pit, and by all means, keep it from Woody. I’m asking you to trust me. Will you?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I’ve been nasty and mean to you when you didn’t deserve it, but I’d trust you with my life, as well as Nell’s. Please do what you can, before they…”
She didn’t finish the dreaded sentence, nor did she need to. Gavin quickly rejoined Vic and Rusty.
“Looks like they took Nell too,” said Gavin. “We’ll make the rounds of the camp with the lantern.”
They quickly found Nell’s tracks leading away from the Pitkin wagon, and finally the place where one of the Indians had taken her. There were only moccasin tracks leading away.
“There ain’t a damn thing we can do in the dark,” Vic said, “but let’s track the three varmints to their horses and find out which way they went.”
They quickly found the place where the three sets of moccasin tracks came together, and followed them to where the Indians had left their horses.
“As if we needed proof,” Rusty said, “look at them moccasin tracks. Two sets of ’em are deeper than the others. Them varmints was carryin’ Bonita and Nell.”
“That means two horses are carryin’ double too,” said Vic.
“Yes,” Gavin said, “and it may be our only hope of finding the girls. There’s been no rain here in months. Maybe years. Do you know what a decent wind could do to all those tracks?”
“My God, yes,” said Vic. “Them horse tracks is headin’ south, but we don’t know they won’t change direction to throw us off the trail.”
“Why in tarnation are they ridin’ south?” Rusty wondered. “What’s down there?”
“Pit’s map don’t go that far,” said Gavin, “but if I’m any judge, they’ll eventually get to the Cimarron River. Or beyond that, the North Canadian. Indians must have water, and I doubt there’s a drop anywhere in this desert.”
“What are we goin’ to do until it’s light enough to trail ’em?” Vic asked.
“There’s nothing we can do,” said Gavin, “and I know how you feel. Remember, they have Nell, too.”
“Lord, yes,” Rusty said, “and before we do anything else, you’ll have to tell Pitkin.”
“I know,” said Gavin, with a sigh. “He asked me if I was postin’ proper sentries, and I felt like cussin’ him for insultin’ my intelligence.”
“It’s the kind of thing fifty sentries couldn’t have prevented,” Rusty said. “The girls had no business goin’ off in the dark.”
“They’re on their way, but they’re not yet Western women,” said Gavin. “I’m to blame for not specifically telling them to remain in camp at night.”
“I reckon maybe all of us are some to blame,” Vic said. “Remember, we was thankin’ our lucky stars that bunch that attacked us wasn’t Comanches, that they wouldn’t come after us at night?”
“I remember only too well,” said Gavin. “While it may be true the Kiowa don’t attack at night, we know now they aren’t afraid of taking hostages.”
“I don’t even like to think about it,” Vic said, “but suppose these varmints ain’t Kiowa? They could be Comanches.”
“My God,” said Gavin, “you’re right. That bunch of Comanches that came after us had to know there were women in the outfit. There’s nothing Comanches like better than captive white women. Remember Cynthia Ann Parker?”*
They all knew the sad saga and its tragic ending. There was little they could do except keep watch until dawn. Then Gavin remembered he hadn’t told Jania and Laketa Stubbs the Indians had taken Bonita, nor had he cautioned them against going in search of her.
“I’ll be back,” Gavin said. “There’s something I must attend to.”
They might have hoorawed him for slipping away to visit with Naomi, but it wasn’t the time or place for cowboy humor, nor was Naomi likely to be in a romantic mood. The Stubbs girls were awake, worried, but had remained near the wagon where Wiley and Whit slept.
“I didn’t forget you,” Gavin said softly. “We had to do some looking around. Indians took Bonita. They also got Nell Pitkin. We found their trail by lantern light, but there’s no way we can go after them until first light.”
These were practical women who had seen more than their share of hardship, and they accepted the bad news without breaking down. Bonita was the youngest of the three, and the most outgoing, and her sisters were afraid for her.
“What will the Indians do…to Bonita and Nell?” Laketa asked.
“They likely won’t be physically harmed,” said Gavin. “These may not have been the band of Kiowa we fought, but the bunch of Comanches you were fighting when we rode to help you. Comanches generally force captured white women to become the wives of their tribal chiefs.”
“Dear God,” Jania said, “that could be worse than death.”
“No,” said Gavin. “It’ll buy us some time.”
“Is there anything we can do?” Laketa asked.
“Just one thing,” said Gavin. “Keep quiet about this until morning. I’ll have to break the news to Pitkin, and I might as well tell everybody else at the same time.”
“We’ll be quiet,” Jania said. “We know you’ll do your best, and you’ll probably have a time of it, leaving Woody behind.”
“I expect I will,” said Gavin. “I’ll face that when I have to.”
It seemed to Gavin he had been waiting forever when, like a heaven-high rosy headdress, dawn feathered the eastern horizon. Pitkin, Naomi, Woody, Wiley, and Whit lay on blankets near enough that Gavin could speak to all of them at the same time.
“Sometime during the night,” Gavin said, “Indians took Bonita Stubbs and Nell Pitkin. By lantern light we found their trail and are preparing to go after them.”
“Who was on watch when this took place?” Pitkin demanded.
“That would have made no difference,” said Gavin. “The girls left the camp for some reasons of their own. They avoided the sentries.”
“I still wish to know who was on sentry duty at the time,” Pitkin said.
“Ash and me was on the first watch,” said Nip Kelly. “You want me to quit, or would you rather fire me?”
“Nobody quits and nobody gets fired,” Woody shouted. “Hell, half of us are wounded and of no help. Pit, this is no time to exercise your temper.”
“Woody,” said Gavin, “shut up. This happened while I was trail boss, and damn it, I’ll do what must be done to rescue Bonita and Nell.”
“Then do it,” Pitkin snapped. “You are precisely correct. I’ve nothing but admiration for a man with the courage to take responsibility.”
Woody shrugged his shoulders, and the rest of the outfit would have laughed if the circumstances had been different. The fiery confrontation Gavin had expected had been avoided, and Pitkin’s response had a sobering effect on Woody. He didn’t insist on being included in the rescue party.
“It’ll be Vic, Rusty, and me,” Gavin said. “Nip and Ash, I’m leanin’ heavy on the both of you. You’ll be the only two defenders without wounds, and if we don’t make it back by tonight, you’ll have to do a full night of sentry duty. Jania and Laketa, your Winchesters will be needed if there’s trouble. Wiley and Whit, your leg wounds won’t prevent you from shooting, and I’m c
ounting on you to do it, if there’s a need.”
“We’ll be ready,” said Wiley.
“Yeah,” Whit added. “Just find the girls and bring ’em back.”
“Jania and me can stand watch tonight, if need be,” said Laketa. “We can still have two watches.”
None of the others who had been wounded—Pitkin, Woody, and Naomi—had a word to say. They didn’t need reminding that their wounds were recent, and any exertion, such as the recoil of a Winchester, could undo the healing that had begun. Gonzales had heard enough of Gavin’s shocking revelation to know there was a need for haste, and by the time Gavin had reached an understanding with the rest of the outfit, the Mexican had breakfast almost ready.
“Vic, Rusty, get your plates, cups, and eatin’ tools and go first for grub. I’ll be right behind you. After we eat, load your saddlebags with enough jerked beef for three days, and plenty of ammunition for Colt and Winchester.”
Breakfast was a hurried affair. Gonzales took food and coffee to those who had been wounded. Nip and Ash finished their meal along with Gavin, Vic, and Rusty, following the trio when they went to saddle their horses.
“I reckon this is a bad time to bring it up,” said Nip, “but we’ll be so near out of water by tomorrow night, there won’t be enough for the horses and mules.”
“It’s somethin’ that’s got to be dealt with,” Gavin said. “I aim to talk to Woody once more before we leave. You and Ash come with me, and I’ll do it now.”
Woody looked up questioningly as they approached.
“Woody,” said Gavin, “I’m leavin’ some orders that I’ll expect you to carry out, if they become necessary. By tomorrow night, the barreled water will be dangerously low, with none for the horses and mules. If we’re not back by then, I want you to push on to Sand Creek, the Cimmaron, or the nearest water. Nip and Ash can harness the teams. It’ll be hard on Pitkin, likely, but he’ll have to ride his own wagon box. Wiley and Whit won’t have that much trouble, with leg wounds. You’ll ride the chuck wagon with Gonzales, and Naomi will ride with Pitkin.”
“Not bad, amigo,” Woody said. “I reckon you have plans for the horse remuda.”
The Santa Fe Trail Page 23
