Goodnight's Dream (A Floating Outfit Western Book 4)

by J. T. Edson

  ‘And walked out of the front door to find us riding along the street towards them,’ Dawn went on. She gave a slight shudder. ‘That Keck sure looked mean when he saw us.’

  ‘It must’ve been a helluva shock for him,’ Mark said.

  ‘Depends on how you meant that,’ Dusty drawled.

  ‘Where’d Keck get the gun he used to make that deputy open up?’ inquired the Kid. ‘He for sure didn’t have it on him when he went into the cell.’

  That’s for sure,’ Goodnight agreed. ‘Ward Kater’s too smart a peace officer to make a mistake like that.’

  ‘It was KeCk’s hide-out gun. The one he tried to use on us at the Demon Rum,’ Dusty replied. ‘Did any of you see who picked it up?’

  ‘I was watching Chisum,’ Goodnight excused himself.

  ‘It’d already gone when I looked for it,’ Mark went on. ‘But there’d been a fair slew of folks moving around and Targue was pushing to get them three yahoos tossed into the pokey, so I didn’t take time out to ask who’d got it. Maybe somebody at the saloon saw who took it.’

  ‘If they did, they’re not admitting to it,’ Dusty answered. ‘The sheriff asked about it.’

  ‘Targue went around the back of the jailhouse after we’d seen them put into the cells,’ the blond giant remarked. ‘Allowed he was headed for Sadie’s place to pick up Chisum’s men and take them out to the herd.’

  ‘That’d be the shortest way for him to go from the sheriff’s office to Sadie’s,’ Goodnight said, anticipating the question which had sprung to Dawn’s mind.

  ‘Now me,’ Mark grinned. ‘I wouldn’t know where a place like Sadie’s’d be.’

  ‘You sure you’re Big RanCe’s son?’ Goodnight sniffed. ‘Anyways, I reckon we can leave it in Ward Kater’s hands. He’ll get to the bottom of it, if anybody can. And I didn’t have you boys come out here to run around playing at being lawmen.’

  Watching Dusty, Mark and the Kid, Dawn saw them sit just a little straighter in their chairs and show a mite more interest. She stirred restlessly on her seat and the movement brought the rancher’s attention to her.

  ‘If you’re tired, Dawn—’ Goodnight began.

  ‘I am a mite,’ she admitted, wondering if he would use it as an excuse to get her out of the room.

  ‘It’s late all right,’ the rancher said. ‘But I’d like you to stay a while longer if you will. What I have to say to Dustine might interest your pappy.’

  ‘I’m not all that sleepy,’ the girl smiled, knowing the matter must be important and ought to be worth hearing. ‘It’s not my first late night.’

  ‘Bueno,’ Goodnight grunted and turned towards his nephew. ‘Do you know why Ole Devil sent you here, Dustine?’

  ‘I only know what you said in your letter,’ Dusty replied. ‘That you’re making a big drive to Fort Sumner real soon and figured Uncle Devil might want to send the floating outfit along to see how it’s done.’

  After finishing his answer, Dusty looked expectantly at his uncle. So did Dawn, realizing that there must be something more than that behind the rancher’s suggestion. It seemed hardly likely that Ole Devil Hardin would send his segundo and members of the OD Connected’s floating outfit all the way to Young County merely to witness something they had already gathered experience in doing.

  Dawn’s father did not run a large enough spread to need the services of a floating outfit, but she knew what the term meant. On the big ranches like the OD Connected a group of four to six men, top hands every one, were employed to work on the distant sections of the range. Taking along food either in a chuckwagon, or ‘greasy sack’ on the back of a mule, they spent long periods away from the main house and acted as a kind of mobile ranch crew. During the ride from Graham, Dawn had learned that Ole Devil had not only sent Dusty, Mark and the Kid, but that two more of the floating outfit were following with their remuda. Taken with Goodnight’s request that she stayed up to listen, Dawn felt certain that something of exceptional interest must be forthcoming.

  ‘Who do you sell your cattle to at the OD Connected, Dustine?’ Goodnight inquired when sure he had his audience’s attention.

  ‘The Army take a few,’ the small Texan replied. ‘But most go to the hide-and-tallow factories at Brazoria or Quintana.’

  ‘We’ll sell to anybody who’ll buy, Colonel,’ Dawn answered when Goodnight repeated the question to her. ‘Which means the hide-and-tallow buyer, mostly.’

  ‘And you’re getting paid—?’ Goodnight went on.

  ‘Three dollars a head. At that price, pappy has to sell all he can to keep us going.’

  ‘It’s the same all across Texas,’ Dusty said. ‘We get around the same price, four dollars tops. Or eight if we trail them to the factory. We did it one time, took five hundred head along. When we’d paid off the trail hands and other expenses, we figured it wasn’t worth the trouble of doing it.’

  ‘Did you ever see one of them factories, Colonel Charlie?’ Mark asked.

  ‘Can’t say I ever did,’ the rancher admitted.

  ‘They’ve got gangs of Negroes killing the cattle, bulls, steers, cows and calves, skinning them, stripping out the tallow and sending what’s left, including the meat, down chutes into the Brazos,’ Mark told him grimly.

  ‘There’re catfish so well fed they’re bigger’n Mississippi alligator-gars downstream from the factory at Brazoria,’ the Kid went on. ‘And folk daren’t go swimming in the sea below Quintana because of the sharks that come in after the factory leavings.’

  ‘There’s no other place to sell the stock,’ Dawn reminded the men bitterly. ‘I’ve heard that it’s been tried and didn’t come off.’

  ‘Feller called Kil Vickers thought he’d got the answer,’ Dusty remarked. ‘Took two hundred and fifty head to Rockport and shipped them by coast-boat to New Orleans. Time he’d finished paying for their feeding on the boat and all, he found he’d lost two dollars-fifty a head on the deal.’

  ‘Shanghai Pierce did a mite better though,’ Mark pointed out. ‘Just after the War he drove a big bunch of his “sea lions” clear across Louisiana to New Orleans and sold them for a fair price.’

  ‘Trouble being that those “sea lions” xvi of his’re raised in swamp country,’ Dusty objected. ‘Open-plains beef like we handle’d never make it.’

  ‘Could, happen we knowed how to train ’em to swing across the bog-holes like Shanghai’s stock done it,’ argued the Kid, keeping a straight, sober face.

  ‘Swing over the bog-holes!’ Dawn snorted, sensing that the comment had been directed her way. ‘You’ll never get me to believe that!’

  ‘I’m only telling you what Mark allows Shanghai telled him,’ protested the Kid. ‘That’s what he told you, wasn’t it, Mark?’

  ‘Why he crossed his heart and hoped to vote Republican if it wasn’t true,’ Mark agreed. ‘Then he told me how his old “sea lions” went through the cypress swamps by jumping from root to root. And when they come to a real deep bog-hole, they’d swing across it by hooking their horns in a wisteria or mustang grape-vine. He allowed that that was some sight to see.’

  ‘Yah! Any feller who’d spin windies like them deserves to vote Republican,’ Dawn scoffed, then looked pointedly at Mark and the Kid. ‘And anybody fool loco enough to believe him most likely does.’

  Chuckles broke from the men and Dawn rose in their esteem by virtue of her reply. Dusty could see that she was used to such verbal fencing, but wondered why his uncle had asked her to stay and listen to his business.

  ‘Shipping by sea, or trailing to New Orleans and selling’s no answer for us,’ Goodnight pointed out when the youngster stopped funning. ‘The costs of doing either would eat up every red cent of the profits.’

  ‘What’s the answer then, Uncle Charlie?’ asked Dusty. ‘Go on selling to the hide-and-tallow factories until the ranges are stripped bare of cattle. And that’s what’ll come if the prices stay so low that folks have to sell off breeding stock the way they’re being forced to do.’r />
  ‘I know,’ Goodnight answered. ‘The Army only want steers, which’s why I’m in favor of dealing with them.’

  ‘Trouble being the Army in Texas doesn’t need much beef,’ Dusty pointed out. ‘And New Mexico’s a mite out of the way for us ranchers down in the south-east. ’Sides which, if everybody trails herds to Fort Sumner, they’ll flood the market and the price’ll drop to nothing.’

  Goodnight nodded soberly. As he had expected, Dusty had formed the correct conclusion on the matter. Not only was the small Texan a courageous fighter and capable leader, but he had a sound business head on his young shoulders. He recognized the significance of supply and demand upon prices.

  ‘There’s another market that needs beef,’ the rancher said and something in his voice warned the listeners that he was approaching the important part of the discussion. ‘In the East there are whole towns, villages and cities full of folk itching to sink their teeth into beef-steaks, happen the beef’s cheap enough for them to buy.’

  ‘Mind me asking how we’re going to get our cattle to these folks back East, Colonel?’ Mark put in. ‘Are you figuring on trailing them there?’

  ‘Not all the way,’ Goodnight replied. ‘My idea is to send them East on the railroad. It’s faster and a train’ll tote a whole heap more cattle than any boat.’

  ‘I’ll give you that, Uncle Charlie,’ Dusty said. ‘But we’re a mite shy on railroads from Texas to the East.’

  ‘There’s one goes clear across the country, east to west, or will when it’s finished,’ Goodnight pointed out and grinned bleakly as four young mouths began to open. ‘And, afore any of you smart buttons tell me, I know that railroad’s up in Kansas not here in Texas.’

  ‘And you figure on trailing the cattle clear up to Kansas, Colonel?’ Dawn gasped.

  ‘Why not?’ countered Goodnight. ‘Oliver Loving and I’ve taken herds nearly as far. But to make it pay, you’ll need a whole new conception of trail driving than’s been tried so far. Bigger herds, two or three thousand head at least.’

  Nobody spoke for over a minute after Goodnight completed his statement. Yet he could see that the girl and three young men were impressed by his comments. Taking his eyes from Goodnight’s face, Dusty turned them to meet Mark’s gaze. Both of them were thinking much the same thoughts.

  Cattle could be gathered and held in bunches at least as large as those mentioned by Goodnight, their herd-instincts keeping them together. The question, to both of the young men’s way of looking at it, was whether so many half-wild longhorns could be persuaded to go in a desired direction. If so, crazy as it might seem at first hearing, the rancher’s scheme had much to commend it. Certainly it offered the answer to the two major problems facing Texas cattlemen: where to sell their stock for a working profit and how to get the animals to the market. Unlike sending the cattle by boat, trailing them would entail no shipping costs other than necessities for the journey, food and pay for the cowhands. The cattle would supply their own transportation to the railroad and, by foraging as they did all their lives on the open range, cut out the high cost of feeding them on the way to the market.

  There were, however, objections to Goodnight’s scheme.

  ‘Nobody’s ever tried to handle a herd that size,’ Mark said. ‘Even buyers from the hide-and-tallow factories don’t move bunches of more than a thousand at a go.’

  ‘Three thousand head’d take maybe thirty men—’ Dusty went on.

  ‘That’s something else,’ Goodnight interrupted. ‘I figure that we’re using too many men on the drives. Once the herd settles in to the trail, eighteen hands at most would be enough.’

  ‘Eighteen!’ Dusty repeated.

  ‘Eighteen, riding point, swing and drag,’ Goodnight insisted. ‘I found that out on the last drive. Nine men could handle the fifteen hundred head better than the full crew; they could see what was happening and didn’t get in each other’s way like when the full bunch were there. Eighteen trail hands, a cook, his louse, one to three men handling the remuda and a scout. If it can be done with just them, making a drive to Kansas’ll pay enough to be worth making.’

  ‘So that’s why you sent for us,’ Mark breathed. ‘To help you do it.’

  ‘To see if handling three thousand head can be done,’ the rancher corrected. ‘We’ll be taking along three thousand head, but to Fort Sumner, not Kansas this time.’ He paused, scanning the faces before him and reading an unspoken question on them. ‘If I’m so sure we can make it to Kansas, why am I headed for Fort Sumner?’

  ‘The notion did sort of cross my mind,’ Mark admitted.

  ‘And you’ve already given the answer. Nobody’s tried to handle a herd of three thousand. So I figure it’d be best if we made the first one over a trail I know real well, with good food and water all the way and a certain market at the other end.’

  ‘So there might not be a market in Kansas?’ Dawn asked, disappointment plain in her voice.

  ‘There’s always that chance,’ Goodnight told her, ‘although I’m sure the market’s there. However, the cost of financing such a drive will be heavy. That’s why I’m staking everything I’ve got on this big drive to Sumner. I’m bonded for every nickel I own to deliver three thousand head to the Fort before July—at eight cents a pound, on the hoof.’

  ‘Eight cents a pound, on the hoof!’ Dawn croaked and even the impassive features of the Ysabel Kid registered emotion. ‘Why that’s … that’s—’

  Words failed Dawn as she tried to make an estimate of just how much money the completion of the contract would bring to Goodnight. Although a slow developer and not considered mature until over four years old, an average steer beyond that age weighed around eight hundred pounds on the hoof. Growth continued and, from ten years until senile decline set in, a steer could go up to one thousand pounds, or in exceptional cases as high as sixteen hundred. Knowing that, Dawn’s mind boggled at the thought of what a herd of three thousand head would be worth when delivered to Fort Sumner. One eight-hundred-pound steer would fetch sixty-four dollars and, in a herd that size, there would be many weighing far heavier.

  ‘That’s real important money,’ Dusty finished for her, having followed much the same line of thought.

  ‘More than enough to finance a drive to Kansas,’ Goodnight agreed. ‘But only if I can fulfill the contract.’

  ‘Which you can’t without that eleven hundred head Chisum was supposed to bring,’ Mark guessed.

  ‘That’s about the size of it,’ the rancher agreed.

  ‘Damn it!’ Dawn spat out. ‘I wish I’d never come after them damned critters!’

  ‘Don’t feel that way, I’m not blaming you,’ Goodnight smiled. ‘They were your cattle and you’d every right to get them back.’

  ‘And you’ve likely saved Uncle Charlie a mess of trouble,’ Dusty continued. ‘If he’d not found out in time, those cattle would’ve been mixed with his herd. I don’t reckon the Army’d’ve too high regard for his honesty if he’d showed up with maybe one in three head carrying somebody else’s brand and him not able to prove how he came by them.’

  ‘Even if the Army took them, word’d get out,’ Mark went on. ‘Folks’d call Colonel Charlie a thief. No rancher takes kind to being stolen from and they’d like it a whole heap less when they learned how much he was paid for their stock.’

  ‘My contract calls for straight brands,’ Goodnight said quietly. ‘The Army would cancel if they were faced with a herd of stolen stock.’

  ‘Only you’d’ve found out about the brands before you arrived,’ Dusty pointed out. ‘Even if Chisum’d’ve mixed them in with your herd, you’d’ve seen some of the brands when you trail counted, or looked the cattle over. But by that time, it’d be too late for you to replace them.’

  ‘How bad off does losing that bunch of Chisum’s leave you, Colonel?’ Mark asked bluntly.

  ‘Bad enough. He’s always played straight with me before, so I only gathered around two thousand head of my own. Figured to have m
y boys building up a herd for Kansas while I was away and making the drive with Chisum’s hands.’

  ‘Can’t you round up enough to fill the contract?’ Dusty inquired.

  ‘Not in time. This part of the year, most of the cattle’ve moved back into the brush-country and’re harder to move out than borrowing neighbors. Even if we got them, I’ve only three men without stripping the spread of its work crew.’

  ‘When Cousin Red and Billy Jack come, we make it up to seven even with Lon riding scout,’ Dusty said.

  ‘Which still leaves us eleven trail hands short,’ Goodnight reminded him. ‘A herd of three thousand couldn’t be handled with less than eighteen men.’

  Much as Dawn wanted to speak, she found herself unable to utter the words that crowded her mouth ready to be uttered. Then she found Dusty’s gray eyes on her and a thrill of anticipation ran through her as she guessed what he had in mind.

  ‘I reckon getting the cattle’d be easy enough, Uncle Charlie,’ Dusty remarked. ‘If Dawn’s pappy and their neighbors can bring in a thousand head, that’ll give you the full herd to fill the contract.’

  ‘There’s the hundred Chisum wide-looped from us for starters,’ Dawn agreed eagerly. ‘And most everybody around us’ve been gathering for when the hide-and-tallow man comes. They’d sooner sell to the Army—’

  Her words trailed off as she realized that her father and their neighbors would not be selling to the Army. It seemed highly unlikely that Goodnight would pay eight cents a pound and then drive the cattle to Fort Sumner and only get the same price for them.

  ‘Maybe Dawn could help you get the hands while she’s at it,’ Dusty remarked, guessing what was on the girl’s mind.

  ‘We’ve three of ’em back home, doing nothing but sit on their butt ends most of the time,’ Dawn admitted. ‘Trouble being none of ’em’s ever been on a long drive.’