The Ogallala Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “I was only kidding you. Getting out and meeting others wouldn’t hurt though—might even help.”

  “Later.”

  He looked around the yard. “I don’t expect any trouble, but you do know all about that shotgun on the rack in there.”

  “Yes, and I can use it.”

  “Good, I hope you don’t ever have to. I guess all the kids are school age.”

  “Yes, I’d love for them to go.”

  “I’ll tell the teacher she’ll have four more that will be there when she opens the doors.”

  “Oh, that would be so good. Chauncy moved us around a lot to find work. So they’ve missed lots of schooling. I hope she can catch them up.”

  He wanted to say that the kids might catch Etta Faye up. But he kept his comments to himself. “I think she’ll try hard.”

  When Sam, Tom and Billy crossed the branch, they could see activities around the schoolhouse were booming. Plenty of cooking smoke was swirling around on the afternoon wind. Women were stirring pots and tending some beef quarters on spits over hot coals. A dozen kid goats were also being barbecued.

  “We’re going to eat anyway,” Tom said and laughed. “Hate my family missing all this.”

  Sam realized his brother was not happy being separated from Karen and the children. In the end, he figured Tom would sell out and move away, if things didn’t soon improve. Sam couldn’t blame him.

  From the cooking crew, Matty Brooks rose up at the sight of Sam, scrubbed her wet face with a rag, then came to meet him. “Well, they say you had one of them arrested and he told all.”

  Sam dismounted, hat in hand, and looked at her hard. “He said the two dead men shot my brother.”

  “That settle it?”

  “Matty, I am not certain of anything.”

  “Here give me the reins,” Billy said. “I’ll put your horse up.”

  “Thanks. See you boys later,” Sam said as Tom and Billy rode on with Rob in tow.

  “See Tom made it back. Come along with me,” Matty said and took Sam’s arm in the crook of hers. “I have some fresh biscuits and peach jam. Tell me more about that widow woman cooking for you at the ranch.”

  “Kathy McCarty and four nice children. They liven up the place.”

  “Her husband got killed? I hear she was pretty desperate for work.”

  “Yes, she must have been to take on feeding Billy, Tom and me.”

  “She as pretty as people say she is?”

  “She’s very nice looking. What?”

  Matty gave him a shove. “You big oaf. You’re the prize catch up here.”

  “Or the worst one. I have no interest in Kathy McCarty. In fact, we tried to get her to come up here tonight, but she said it was too soon after her husband’s death.”

  “Fine.”

  “Of course, it’s fine. There was not a cook available in the county. Billy and I were tired of our own beans.”

  Matty laughed aloud. “I would be, too. Let’s get those biscuits and jam out for you.”

  After his treat, Sam went over to where men had congregated in the afternoon shade. Squatting in a loose circle, some smoked while others chewed tobacco and spat in the dust. Rain and cattle prices made the rounds, until Jason Burns spoke up.

  “Looks like us little ranchers are going to sink or swim over a cattle drive.”

  “Yeah” came a mixed chorus, accompanied by bobbing heads.

  “I know the colonel asked you, as well as several of us, Sam, so will you take our cattle up that western trail to Nebraska for us?”

  The other men had Sam cornered and were playing on his conscience by acting as if he was their only chance for success—a weighty load on the back of a man in the midst of a feud. Sam had his own troubles to worry about. Besides, bad memories of his last, ill-fated drive still haunted him. Over and over, he saw those two boys dying on their backs in the dust of Front Street in Dodge City.

  “Boys, I went to Abilene ten years ago. Made seven or eight trips. What the hell am I telling you boys about it for? Jason was a cook’s helper on that first trip. Mr. Mott rode point. One of the Cotter brothers horse wrangled.” Sam shifted his weight to his left boot. “You all know there’s been drives that brought nothing—lost it all.”

  “That’s why we want you,” Mott said, flicking the ash off his cigarette. “It’s the only chance we’ve got.”

  “There’s got to be someone besides me in this community who could do this.”

  “Sam, you’re who we want,” Mott said.

  “You know if Howard was here this afternoon,” Yancy Pike said, pointing at the pale dirt between his dusty boots, “he’d say, ‘Sam, let me go with you.’ ”

  Sam chewed on his lower lip. Somewhere under the waving grass up in the Indian Nation, the crude cross long gone, rested a freckled-faced boy who would have whooped alligators bare-handed for Sam. He recalled the sadness in Lucy Pike’s face the day when he rode up to her yard without her boy and paid her the four month’s wages, the money that was going to buy him a hand made pair of boots and a new saddle.

  Why me, Lord? Sam closed his eyes. “Boys, ain’t no guarantee I can do it—”

  “But will you?” Jason insisted.

  “Yeah,” Sam finally surrendered with an exhale, “I’ll take them north next spring.”

  “Amen,” Mr. Mott said and the cheer went up. Hats sailed in the air. Buck Saunders shot his pistol off. Everyone went to clapping each another on the back.

  Skirts held high, the womenfolk came running over to hear the news. Children ran to the celebration.

  “He’s gonna do it!” someone announced loud enough to hear back in town.

  Matty Brooks, with her dress in one hand, began to dance a jig with Sam despite his reluctance. Hands went to clapping to keep time, the suspense was over—word was out Sam Ketchem, trail boss, was going north with the herd.

  A fiddle and bow soon joined in and folks were scuffling up dust in celebration. Matty passed Sam off to Eva Burns, who threw her head back and whooped out loud. Her jubilance forced a smile on his face. When a rancher’s somber wife felt that good, his decision must have been the right thing to do. But could he deliver the herd?

  At last, he managed to ease out of the hugs and handshakes, and saw Etta Faye drive up under her parasol. He felt good he’d made his decision. Maybe this time, things would go smoother. Perhaps the last time he’d had bad luck.

  Sam took Etta Faye’s hand and helped her down.

  “I’ll put your horse up Miss Ralston,” a freckled faced boy offered.

  “Thank you, Clarence,” she said. “I have two baskets in the back.”

  “I’ll get them,” Sam offered.

  She nodded and gave the boy instructions about her horse’s care. The boy drove Chelsea off to the back of the schoolhouse.

  “Well, how are you?” Etta Faye asked as she turned to Sam. “I heard the news. Stuart has your brother’s killer in jail.”

  “A witness anyway.”

  “Will there be more arrests?”

  “Maybe you should ask him?”

  “I can see I have gouged you, Samuel. May I apologize?”

  “None needed.”

  “What’s all the excitement about? Everyone looks worked up into frenzy.”

  “Oh, we’re going up the trail next spring to Nebraska.”

  Etta Faye swallowed hard. Her blue eyes widened in disbelief. “Samuel, you aren’t going to be the trail boss, are you?”

  “Yes.”

  Her gloved hand clapped over her mouth, she paled. “But after all you went through . . .”

  Chapter 14

  Fiddle music carried on the cooling breeze that swept hints of the dying cooking fires to the schoolhouse. Night bugs joined the songs, mingled with laughter and the excitement of the gathering. Little ones were tucked in wagon beds to sleep and infants suckled on their mothers’ breasts in the shadowy world beyond the Chinese lanterns. Inside the coal-oil lamps made the waxed floor shine a
s couples waltzed around the room, as their parents had in Tennessee, Georgia or Arkansas before braving the wagon drive to the south central Texas hill country. Scotch-Irish people for the most part, Baptist or Methodist, they blended with the German colonists who lived by the Lutheran doctrine.

  Sam was caught by several men to discuss some details. How many men would he need to hire? How much money needed to be raised for expenses? When would he leave? All questions he put off until he knew the number of cattle to be driven. Trying to get in the front door, he felt as if he was swimming an ocean. The tie, the celluloid collar and the brown suit made him feel stiff.

  Etta Faye was in the schoolhouse, and he had promised to dance with her. She was upset about the deal and acting like a spoiled child who did not get her way. But she never said a word in the past about Sam going on the drive. Times like this, he wondered why he even tried to make something spark between them. He made the doorway and spotted Etta Faye in a starched blue dress. She was talking to two teenage girls. The music had stopped. Sam put his hat on the rack, then crossed the room to where Etta Faye stood. He hoped his hair was still combed down. He felt naked without his usual head gear in place.

  “I hope both of you attend class,” Etta Faye said to the teens. “To be able to read and write is helpful to anyone, especially young ladies.”

  The girls thanked her, as if uncomfortable to be out in the spotlight, and left.

  “Samuel.” Etta Faye studied him. “You look very nice in your suit and tie. Perhaps when you return, you should go and see a tailor in San Antone and get a new one.”

  “Oh, yes, I wear one so often.”

  “You will in time. You’ll see what I mean. Since you have all these ranchers’ gratitude for accepting such a thankless job, the least you can do is solicit their votes.”

  Sam shut his eyes and shook his head. Then the music began. He took her hand and they waltzed around the room. With her bow-shaped back in his arms, he guided her easily around the dance floor, as if no one else existed in the schoolhouse. The soft strains of the music mellowed and the sharp look on her face mellowed. Sam wanted the song to last forever.

  When the set was over, they stood in silence. At last, Etta Faye said, “I could use some lemonade.”

  “Lemonade you shall have.”

  He escorted her to a table where Eva Burns served them glasses of the drink.

  “When will you start school?” Eva asked Etta Faye.

  “October first. Do you have children who will attend?”

  “Two younger ones, but the older boys say they don’t need any more.”

  “I know how that is. But if they are ever going to be more than cowboys, they need a good education.”

  Eva shrugged off the comment, as if getting her older boys to school was more than she could do. “But I’m afraid they don’t want to be anything else. And they’ll pester you to death to join you, Sam, now they know you’re going up the trail.”

  Sam agreed with a nod. “Good lemonade.” Finished, he handed the glass back to her.

  Etta Faye thanked Eva and carried the drink in her hand. She and Sam went toward an open space on the benches along the wall. Seated at last, they had little time to converse with each other because well-wishers were coming by to thank Sam. At last, the music began, and feeling grateful to escape the limelight, Sam excused himself and took his partner to the center of the room. If the world was a dance floor, he felt that he could own Etta Faye, lock, stock, and barrel. Then they were gone again into that flowing world of their own, where no one else existed.

  The musicians took a break. Sam left Etta Faye with a group of women, including Matty, who wanted to help her during the first week. Sam went outside and joined Tom.

  “Billy’s found him a girlfriend, I believe,” Tom said as they walked leisurely down the dusty road.

  “The Fisher girl?”

  “I didn’t think you noticed a thing. You and that Etta Faye looked like you were both moonstruck on that dance floor.”

  Sam glanced up at the stars. Moonstruck? Was that the word for it?

  “I wanted you to be the first to know. I’m going to sell out.” Tom shook his head wearily and both men stopped walking. “I can’t bring my family back here and risk them being shot. There’s a dozen more of them Wagners. Vindictive women like the one who sent that boy out to shoot Billy. Hell, he’s not even a Ketchem. I can’t take it.”

  “You have to do what you have to do for Karen and those kids. I sure can’t offer you any kind of assurance this thing is over.”

  “But we’ve worked so damn hard to build us places here.”

  “Paw would have been proud.” Sam clapped Tom on the shoulder. “We took what he left us and built on it.”

  “I know it won’t be the same as the hill country but I’ve been out to see Buffalo Gap. I plan to move up in that country.”

  Sam closed his eyes. Earl was gone, and now Tom was leaving. Maybe he needed to make a move, too. There was a lot of country opening up north. Real grassland.

  “I know you’ll help me close the deal and get everything packed,” Tom said.

  “Sure,” Sam said with a knot that would be hard to swallow caught in his throat. The two hugged each other. Sam patted Tom on the back. “I know that was hard to tell me, but thanks.”

  “Hell, if I didn’t have Karen and the kids, I’d ride down there tonight and stomp everyone of their asses to kingdom come.”

  Sam chuckled. “That was what the old man was always going to do to us when we messed up: stomp our asses.”

  “Yeah, but I mean it.”

  “I know you do.”

  Some of the wind in Sam’s sails was gone when he went back inside the schoolhouse. He looked around the room for Etta Faye and didn’t see her. He went and talked to Mr. Mott, who stood off to the side.

  “Sure pleased about you coming around. I know the colonel would have been proud. He was a big fan of yours.”

  “I was one of his, too.”

  Matty Brooks made faces at him; she wanted to talk to him. Sam excused himself and crossed to where she was serving pie and cobbler.

  “You know she left?” Matty hissed.

  “Left?”

  “Yes, when someone told her that you’d moved in that widow woman in your house.”

  “Huh?”

  “It wasn’t me. I couldn’t help it either. The gal blurted it out. Etta Faye left in tears. You hadn’t told her?”

  “No. So damn much going on, it never crossed my mind as important.” He exhaled in distress. What next? “She go back to the Fanchers?”

  “I really don’t know. I’m sorry, but it sure upset her to hear it like she did.”

  “Thanks,” he said in defeat.

  “Want some pie?”

  “No, I couldn’t swallow a bite,” Sam said and left the dance.

  Chapter 15

  Rain came—the kind country people prayed for: a slow soaker that swept in over the hill country, washing the small, waxy oak leaves clean of dust. It was the rain that would sprout Sam’s oats—bring them up like turnips and greens. The runoff would make the stream and creeks so dingy for a while the small schools of minnows would be hidden.

  It rained hard the first day the school bell rang. Huddled in his wagon under a tarp to stay dry, Sam drove the four McCarty kids over to the schoolhouse. He locked the brake and tied off the reins. Grateful the downpour had let up, he unloaded them one at a time and sent them splashing for the front door.

  The last to come off was Sloan, who looked very vexed by the situation. Halfway to the door, Rowann looked back to check on him and blinked.

  “He’s fine,” Sam reassured her. “I’ll bring him.”

  She needed no more encouragement and, with a flush of excitement over what waited ahead, ran on. Darby and Hiram were already through the door and waving for her to hurry and catch them.

  Sloan closed his fingers tight on Sam’s hand. To encourage the boy, Sam nodded, and the ra
in dripped off his brim when he did so. When he and his ward entered the room, he saw Etta Faye look up from talking to a small girl. It was their first meeting since the dance. She strode across the floor, the picture of composure. But the coldness of her manner vibrated off the room’s walls.

  “These are the McCarty children?”

  “Yes, that’s Darby. He’s twelve. Hiram is six. Rowann is nine, and this is Sloan—he’s her twin.”

  “Hello, Sloan,” she said, her attention centered on the boy.

  “Oh, Miss Ralston,” Rowann interceded. “Sloan can’t speak. But he’s very excited about coming to school.”

  “Is he mute?” Etta Faye asked.

  Sam nodded.

  “Oh, what a shame. Can he be reached?”

  “We don’t know. He and Rowann can communicate. Maybe you can learn him some things.”

  “He ain’t no dumb knot on a log,” Hiram said. Then realizing he had spoken out, he put his hand over his mouth.

  “Oh, Hiram, we know he is not that,” Etta Faye assured the boy.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Their mother didn’t come?” Etta Faye looked around past Sam.

  “Rain and all. She had things to do and sent me.”

  “If she looks at all like her daughter, she must be a very lovely person.”

  Sam wasn’t about to step into that trap. He simply nodded. “If Sloan gets to be too large a task or you feel he’s not getting anything from your teaching, his mother says she will understand.”

  “I’ll have twenty-two students. That’s more than the schoolboard thought.”

  “Big job.”

  “Samuel, thanks for bringing them today. I will do what I can for him and the others.”

  “Everything is working?”

  “One small leak in the roof.” She indicated the tin can on the floor. “But we are doing fine for now.”

  “Need anything, send word.”

  “Oh, I will, Samuel.”

  He excused himself and left the building, which was full of kids from Hiram’s age on to a tall boy in his late teens, who tried to look inconspicuous in the background. Several, Sam noticed, had bowl haircuts. The newly exposed skin was snow-white either from the clipping or the children wearing hats all summer.