Ralph Compton Big Jake's Last Drive

by Robert J. Randisi

  “Well, con much gusto, too, Carlito,” Chance said. “but do you think you could cook somethin’ for us tonight? We’re starved.”

  “As are we, señores,” Carlito said. “Come, I will prepare a feast.”

  He got in his wagon and started handing out supplies to each man to carry into the house.

  “If you cook all this, Carlito, will you have enough for the drive?” Jake asked.

  “Oh, señor,” Carlito said, “I have stocked up very well, but we will also be able to acquire supplies along the way, no?”

  “Yeah, we will,” Jake assured him.

  “Then muy bien, señor,” Carlito said. “Tonight we eat well.”

  And they all made their way to the house, each laden with his own donation to the upcoming feast . . .

  * * *

  * * *

  . . . AND A FEAST it was.

  Carlito proved his skill with pots and pans, and with beef and vegetables as well. He also prepared biscuits and tortillas. The meal was a combination of American and Mexican, as if he were auditioning for the job.

  And if he were auditioning for the job, he passed with flying colors.

  The icing on the cake was freshly prepared flan and strong coffee.

  “If you can do this on the trail, Carlito,” Chance said, “we’re all gonna arrive in Dodge City much fatter than when we left here.”

  “Do not worry, señor,” Carlito said. “You will be eating very well.”

  “Did you find your extra hands, jefe?” Taco asked Jake.

  “We did,” Jake said.

  “Maybe,” Chance said. “If they show up in the mornin’.”

  “At eight we’re gonna ride out to the herd,” Jake told them all. “If all’s well with them, we’ll get ’em movin’.”

  “Why would they not be well?” Desi asked.

  “I’m just sayin’,” Jake said, “I ain’t been out there in a few days.”

  “If I know you, jefe,” Taco said, “your herd is clean of disease, and fit for the drive.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right, Taco,” Jake said. “I ain’t what I used to be.”

  “Do not worry, jefe,” Taco said, “it will all come back to you.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Jake looked across the table at Chance, who was frowning into his coffee cup. He needed a drink.

  “All right,” Jake said, “Taco and Desi, you can show your cousin where he can sleep tonight.”

  “Sí, jefe,” Desi said, standing up.

  “And the kitchen, señor?” Carlito asked.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jake said. “I’ll clean it in the mornin’, before we leave.”

  “Sí, jefe,” Carlito said, and followed his cousins out.

  The coffeepot was still on the table, and still half full.

  “More coffee, Chance?” Jake asked.

  “I don’t think—”

  “With a touch of sweetener?”

  “Oh, Jesus, yes,” Chance said.

  Jake got the whiskey bottle from his desk, poured the coffee, and added the whiskey.

  “That’s it,” he said as Chance lifted the cup to his mouth, “that’s the last one.”

  Chance looked at him over the rim of the cup and said, “Until Dodge.”

  “Until Dodge,” Jake agreed.

  Chance drank it down and set the cup on the table.

  “Not another drink until the job is done, Jake,” he promised. “I swear.”

  “I believe ya, Chance.” He finished his. “The same goes for me, and for every man. No whiskey on the drive.”

  “Don’t do that on my account,” Chance said.

  “I’m not, I just don’t want any mistakes because of drunkenness.”

  “Better make your new boys aware of that,” Chance said, getting to his feet.

  “Oh, I will.”

  As Chance left the dining room he said over his shoulder, “If they show up.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jake came out the front door the next morning at seven forty-five after cleaning the kitchen. He knew it wasn’t as good as it would have been if Abby had cleaned it, but that was always the case.

  She came to him in dreams, sometimes, smiling and touching his face. However, last night he had had no dreams at all—at least, none he could remember.

  Chance was already there, sitting in a chair with his rifle across his legs. Next to the chair, on the deck, were his saddlebags.

  Jake sat next to him, set his saddlebags down, and laid his rifle across his legs.

  “They’re not here,” Chance said. “If they don’t get here, we’ll be short.”

  “We’ll do what we have to do,” Jake said.

  “The four of us? Driving six hundred head?”

  “We’ll stick Carlito on a horse.”

  “He’s a cook,” Chance said.

  “They still have time,” Jake said.

  Chance took out his watch.

  “Ten minutes.”

  “We’ll wait.”

  While they were waiting both Taco and Desi came riding over, leading both Chance’s and Jake’s saddled mounts. They stopped in front of the porch.

  “Step down,” Jake said. “We’re still waitin’ for our new hands.”

  They both dismounted and stepped up onto the porch.

  “What about Carlito?” Chance asked.

  “He is almost ready,” Desi said.

  At that moment they heard the pots-and-pans jangle as the chuckwagon pulled out of the barn and approached the house with a four-mule team.

  “We are ready,” Carlito said happily.

  “Five minutes,” Chance said.

  At that moment the sound of horses came to them from nearby. Then two riders appeared from the other side of the barn. Jake and Chance both grabbed their saddlebags and stood up as they approached.

  “You just made it,” Chance said.

  “I had to convince my buddy that we really wanted to do this,” Dundee said, with a grin.

  “We’re ready to go,” Curly said. “What’s first?”

  “Let’s get that remuda out of the corral,” Jake said. “Then we’ll head for the herd.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Jake and Chance led the rest to Candy Box Canyon, where Jake had secured the herd. As they approached they could hear the cows bawling.

  “They’re hungry,” Chance said.

  “They can graze when we let them out,” Jake said. “It’ll take time to get them all ready.”

  Chance looked around, saw mostly bare ground.

  “There’s not much to graze on here,” he said.

  “They’ll find whatever there is,” Jake assured his friend. “They’ll suck it dry before we leave. Within a few miles there’ll be some more.”

  The other riders came up alongside them. Carlito’s chuckwagon pulled up behind them, with the remuda tied to the back.

  “Okay,” Jake said, “let’s get that herd out of there.”

  He and Chance opened the makeshift gate he had fashioned to keep the herd in, and they entered, moving among the cattle. Behind them Desi and Taco also came in, with Dundee. Curly had orders to remain on the outside.

  “Once we get ’em movin’,” Jake shouted, “Taco, you and Desi leave the canyon and start directin’ them.”

  “Sí, jefe,” Taco called back.

  They began to move the herd outside of the box canyon . . .

  * * *

  * * *

  Once the entire herd was milling about outside, Jake, Chance, and their hands started them moving forward.

  The chuckwagon led the way, as it would be doing for the length of the drive. It would be up to Carlito to find the places where they would ca
mp each night, after about fifteen miles of traveling per day. At that rate it would take them about two months to reach Dodge City, barring any difficulties.

  It was decided that Curly would be the wrangler, in charge of the remuda. That meant he would ride close behind the chuckwagon, leading the horses and making sure nothing happened to them. He would also saddle and unsaddle horses when the others needed to change mounts, which could happen three to four times a day.

  Jake decided the first day he would ride point, Taco, Desi, and Dundee flank, and Chance would ride drag. For a larger herd—say two to three thousand head—he would have had at least ten men per thousand. Many of them would be flanking the herd on either side, with at least two riding drag. But with six hundred head he chose to believe that one man could ride drag, and decided that they would alternate that position, since that man would eat most of the dust that day. With two men on one flank, and only one on the other, Jake figured he would occasionally leave the point and assist on the flank. He might have added Curly to the flank, but didn’t want to take a chance on anything happening to any of the extra horses. They needed those remounts in order to keep moving.

  The first day was interesting; as they left Brownsville behind them, Jake was able to judge the abilities of the men he had never traveled with before—Desi, Carlito, Dundee, and Curly. Desi seemed to be as adept at flanking as his cousin Taco was. Dundee was not as adept, but seemed to be a fast learner. As for Curly, it seemed Jake had made the right decision to use him as the wrangler. He was good with the horses.

  The only way to judge Carlito was going to depend first on where he chose to camp for the night and, second, how their first meal was.

  On that first day he was also judging his own fitness and abilities. He certainly hadn’t forgotten how to drive a herd, but felt himself growing weary much too soon. That would be due to his age, and to the fact that he hadn’t been on a drive in quite a while.

  He assumed that Chance would be having the same feelings, but he wouldn’t know until they spoke that night. In the morning he would decide who was going to ride drag the second day, as he would do every morning thereafter . . .

  * * *

  * * *

  As Jake looked up ahead he saw Curly riding toward him. When the young man reached him he turned his horse and rode alongside.

  “Just wanted to let you know Carlito found a place to camp. He’s already settin’ up. It’s just over this ridge.”

  “Got it,” Jake said. “We’ll stop the herd here. Get back to the remuda, make sure they’re secure.”

  “Already done, boss,” Curly said, but then spurred his horse on and rode off to join Carlito.

  Jake turned his horse so he could ride back and inform the others.

  * * *

  * * *

  Once they had camped and unsaddled their mounts, they all gathered around the campfire for Carlito’s supper. It was succulent meat and tortilla, something simple for the first night.

  “After we’ve eaten I’ll want two men to watch the herd,” Jake said. “And then two men will relieve them after four hours. You can decide among yourselves who goes first and who goes second.”

  “Desi and I will go first,” Taco said.

  “Then Curly and me, we’ll go second,” Dundee said.

  “I can go—” Chance said, but Jake cut him off.

  “I want you in camp.”

  “What for?”

  “To discuss tomorrow.”

  “What about—” Chance started, but he saw the look on Jake’s face and stopped.

  After they finished eating, Desi and Taco saddled fresh mounts and rode out to keep watch over the herd. Dundee and Curly turned in so they would be relatively fresh when it was their turn. Carlito cleaned up, but left a pot of coffee on the fire, then went inside his wagon to sleep.

  That left Jake and Chance around the fire.

  “What’s this about tomorrow?” Chance asked.

  “Nothin’,” Jake said. “I just wanted to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “About whether or not you’re feelin’ the way I am.”

  “Which is?”

  “Old and out of shape.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Then there’s no reason for either of us to stand watch over the herd when we could be sleepin’,” Jake said.

  “Is that how it’s gonna be the whole way?” Chance asked. “ ’Cause we’ll have to explain that.”

  “No,” Jake said, “just till you and me, we get our sea legs under us.”

  “Sea legs?”

  “It’s a sailor’s term—”

  “I know what it is, Jake,” Chance said. “I was just wonderin’ how an old cowpoke like you knew.”

  “Hey, this old cowpoke has done some readin’ over the past few years,” Jake said.

  “Readin’? You?”

  “I know, it’s hard to believe even for me,” Jake said. “I never thought I’d be able to sit still long enough to read a book.”

  Jake poured Chance another cup of coffee, noticed his friend’s hand was shaking. It could have been because he was craving a drink, but Jake was also feeling kind of shaky after the day’s ride, so he decided to give Chance the benefit of the doubt.

  “Why don’t you turn in after that cup?” Jake suggested. “I’ll keep an eye out here for a bit.”

  “I think I’ll do just that,” Chance said. “I’ll open my bedroll under the chuckwagon. And you better rest your old bones, too, old-timer.”

  “Right after this cup,” Jake said.

  So the two old cowpokes sat and sipped and listened to the sounds the herd made at night.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The first week went without incident.

  They all got into a rhythm with each other, doing their jobs well whether they were riding flank or drag, standing their watches over the herd at night, bringing stragglers back into the fold. They lost a few head to injury, but Carlito turned them into meals, and kept proving his worth not only as a cook, but as a scout for their campsites.

  Curly proved his worth as wrangler, keeping the remuda in good condition, having a fresh mount ready for each rider when they needed one.

  The work was grueling, there was no doubt, but Jake and Chance found themselves dealing with it in better and better fashion following each day. Even when the youngsters, Dundee and Curly, complained at night about how tired they were, they only received sympathy from Desi and Taco.

  Desi was an experienced vaquero, but still found the work taxing. Taco had not been on a drive in some time, and his body seemed to be protesting each night.

  “You are both older than I,” he said to Jake and Chance one night. “How is it I am more worn out than you, señores?”

  “Don’t worry, Taco,” Jake replied. “We’re feelin’ every mile of it. But for me, I’ve been off the trail for so long this is really like comin’ home.”

  “Our bodies are gettin’ used to it,” Chance said. “I didn’t think I’d take to the saddle again, but I have, even at this age.”

  “Well,” Dundee said, from across the fire, “I don’t know if my body’s ever gonna be the same again.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jake said, “you’ll get used to it. I tell ya what. Chance and I will take a watch on the herd tonight.”

  “Sure,” Chance said. “That’ll give you time for some much-needed rest, but believe me, after a few weeks on the trail, you’ll start to feel better.”

  “I hope so,” Dundee said. “My body’s never hurt this much before.”

  “Well,” Jake said, “finish eatin’ and get some rest.”

  They all applied themselves to Carlito’s latest concoction of meats known as SOB stew, with beans that he called pecos strawberries and biscuits that were known as sourdough bullets.


  After supper, Dundee groaned and turned in, while Curly offered to stand first watch with Desi. They seemed to be the two who were in the best condition.

  Jake and Chance drank some more of Carlito’s thick, black coffee while both the cook and Taco turned in.

  “You know this ain’t gonna last, don’t you?” Chance said.

  Jake knew exactly what Chance meant.

  “These younger men are gonna start feelin’ it less, while we start feelin’ it more,” Jake admitted.

  “I think it’s just that we missed this,” Chance said. “Once we’re used to it again, all those old aches and pains are gonna set back in.”

  “Maybe not as bad, though,” Jake said. “We’re gonna need to find some balance between how we felt in the beginning, how we feel now, and how we’re gonna feel later.”

  “These kids are gonna be used to it, and our bones are gonna be achin’,” Chance said. “But I gotta admit, right now I feel younger than I have in years. I’m not even cravin’ a drink.”

  “That’s good,” Jake said. “Hopefully, it’ll stay that way for you.”

  “Desi and Curly are doin’ fine,” Chance said.

  “Well, Desi’s an experienced cowboy, and Curly’s the youngest. Taco’s been guarding whores for too long, but he’ll come around.”

  “And Dundee’s young enough to bear these first aches and pains,” Chance said. “I think we’ve got a good crew here, Jake. Carlito is sure livin’ up to his part of the deal. His food is great.”

  “We’ll have to check with him and see how his supplies are doin’,” Jake said. “We should be outside of Three Rivers in a couple of days. We can pick up more supplies there.”

  “Good idea,” Chance said. “Let’s check with him in the mornin’.”

  “Let’s get some sleep now. Remember, we volunteered to take a watch.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Volunteering turned out to be a bad idea.

  Sitting in the saddle for four hours, hardly moving, turned out to be more taxing than four hours in the saddle on the trail. By the time the smell of Carlito’s bacon—“chuckwagon chicken”—came to them, announcing breakfast, their backs were aching. Chance’s butt was also sore, indicating he hadn’t gotten as much of his “seat” back as he thought.