High Rider

by Bill Gallaher

  Fort Worth did not have a dentist, but Dallas did, so the following morning, John, carrying money from Amos, saddled Cat and loped there, the pain intensified by each thud of her hooves. The oil of cloves Ellie had given him did not help much. Dallas did not appear on the horizon any too soon, nor did the shingle hanging out in Commerce Street that read DR. SINCLAIR, DENTISTRY. And below: PAINLESS EXTRACTIONS.

  The dentist was a pasty-complexioned, fair-haired young man of slight build, whose forehead had a noticeably damp sheen. He had a chronic cough, which John did not like because it might be consumptive, but his manner was kind and genteel, his accent that of a Southern aristocrat.

  “I can offer chloroform, ether, or nitrous oxide to eliminate the pain,” he said.

  John shook his head, fearing that he would be rendered senseless and he didn’t want that. “Just yank it.”

  “As you wish, sir. Fortis an stultus. But first we must find it. And I would suggest that you grip the arms of the chair with all the strength at your command. Open!”

  John spread his jaws and the dentist tapped the teeth in the area John had indicated until he hit the offending one. Despite his grip, John almost shot out of the chair from the intense burst of pain.

  “Ah, the third molar is the culprit.” The dentist smiled. “Now, open again.”

  Once John was able to comply, the dentist grasped the tooth with forceps, which looked to John like a smaller version of the pliers he had used as a blacksmith, planted his feet firmly on the floor, and began pulling. An unrelenting pain more intense than a Sebastian Chambers whipping filled John’s head and burst into his entire body. The tooth would not budge.

  “It is large and stubborn,” the dentist announced, “and will require a different plan of attack.”

  He wrapped his left arm over John’s head, grasping him under the chin, and placed his right knee against the arm of the chair. He began pulling again. This time some sideways movement of the tooth was achieved and the dentist wiggled it back and forth, tugging all the while. To John it sounded and felt like miners were working with pickaxes in his mouth, but at last the tooth came free. The dentist held the offending molar up for John to see and said, “Semper ad meliora.”

  The constant pain that had plagued John for two days had disappeared. His jaw was sore as hell, but the throbbing ache was gone and that was all that mattered. A day or two later he felt fully recovered.

  •

  The Texas economy began to recover as well, but at a much slower rate. The railroad arrived from Marshall and points east in 1876, and Fort Worth grew and thrived. New businesses popped up and mule-drawn trolleys plied the streets. The Texas Rangers had been reorganized and sent many of the outlaws packing, and the town streets and state roads were much safer. Even so, while the ranch had proved to be a haven for John, the town was the exact opposite. His visits there always met with some form of challenge, from something as simple as white men refusing to step aside on the boardwalks, to threats on his life. Remembering his father’s advice, he reasoned that the best response was no response at all.

  The shining exception to this hostility was the reception he received at Khleber Van Zandt’s dry goods store. Over time, he purchased his own rope and every item of clothing a man needed, from good leather gloves to leather chaps, plus all the required tack.

  He sat down with Ellie one day and with her help wrote a letter to his parents, telling them how good life was for him and that he hoped the same for them and Millie, and Nettie in particular. He proudly wrote his signature at the bottom, knowing his family would be impressed. Five months later, he received a reply, not from any of his family but from James Ball, his old boss. Ellie read it to him. Ball began by apologizing for being the bearer of bad news, then explained that Nettie had disappeared. “She went for a walk one day and never returned, John,” Ball wrote. “Her employers feared she had taken her own life, because there was such a sense of sadness about her. I think the sadness came from being the last of the Ware family left in Georgetown. Not long after you left, Millie found herself a husband and moved north to be with your brothers. Later, your ma came down with pneumonia and died, and that sent your pa spinning off into a different world. He could not recognize anybody, not even Nettie. He went to bed one night and did not wake up. I believe the burden of those losses was too much for your sister to carry.”

  Ball concluded by apologizing again for sending such bad news, but John’s letter had been brought to him by the Wares’ neighbour, and he felt duty bound to answer it. He was pleased but not surprised that John was doing so well for himself.

  Ellie handed John the letter, her eyes watery with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

  John took the letter, folded it, and put it in his shirt pocket. “Thank you, Ellie.” He scraped back his chair and went outside to be alone and digest the contents of the letter. He feared also that he might embarrass himself in front of Ellie. Was every man’s life so full of “what ifs”?

  •

  In 1877 Emmett joined an outfit driving cattle to the stockyards in Abilene, Kansas, mainly to gain the experience to lead his own drive one day. Many ranchers shipped their cattle east from Fort Worth, but the real money lay in trailing them north, where an animal could fetch up to ten times its value in the south. What’s more, millions of wild longhorns roamed the Texas plains, there for anybody with the salt to gather up.

  When Emmett returned, he and Amos made plans for their own business venture. They had rebuilt a healthy bank account, so Emmett hired some drovers to help him make up a herd from several gathers to trail to Ogallala, Nebraska, in the spring of ’78. While the profits were high in terminating a drive at Dodge City, Kansas, some two hundred and fifty miles short of the Nebraska town, the railway through Ogallala served a Pacific coast market, where profits were even higher.

  “You’d be more than welcome on these gathers,” Emmett told John, “but for the time being, Pa needs your help more than I do.”

  That was true. The ranch, which had been renamed the Flint Springs Livery and Cattle Company, now depended less on cattle for its income and more on horses that had to be broken and trained, a job Amos had not been able to do for a good many years, but one at which John excelled. Nevertheless, he was keen to go on the drive when it happened, although he didn’t say anything to Emmett, or to Amos for that matter. But the northwest had taken on almost mythical overtones for him ever since he had talked to cattlemen who had been as far north as the Montana Territory. Without exception, they spoke of the grandeur of the mountains and the bountiful grass in the foothills, claiming that it was real cattle country, and that people were few and far between. It made John think of one day having his own ranch in such a beautiful part of the world.

  Emmett and his cowhands, who included Duffy, would go out with a small herd of Flint Springs cattle and use it as a decoy to lure the wild ones along. Over a few months and several gathers they amassed a large herd of longhorns and situated them on good grazing land between the Clear and West forks of the Trinity River, where they could fatten up for the drive. Some would birth calves, and Emmett guessed they would have around two thousand animals to trail north. In the spring the animals would be “road branded” with a light brand that would last for the duration of the trip. Emmett had Duffy and another drover set up camp to watch the herd at all times and a couple of others to spell them off. He rode up to check on them from time to time, especially when thunderstorms were in the vicinity and the cattle might stampede.

  John went with him once and the visit only served to whet his appetite to join the drive. One night after supper, when he and the Coles were sipping their last cup of coffee and smoking their last cigarette before turning in, John broached the subject of going north with Emmett. He told them that the north country had been filling his dreams lately, that it might prove to be the perfect place for a man like him to make a new start. He knew that he’d be the greenest hand on the huge drive, but Emmett knew how hard he worked
and how quickly he learned. He expected no more pay than the other crew members, plus the same bonuses they made.

  “Much as I hate to leave you folks,” he told Amos and Ellie, “it’s time, I reckon. That’s if you’ll have me, Emmett.”

  “I can’t think of a reason in the world why I wouldn’t,” said Emmett enthusiastically. “Except maybe that you’ll be sorely missed around here. But that’s no reason for you to stay.”

  Amos grew contemplative. “I guess what surprises us most is that this day took so long to come. We’ve known for some time that there was much more for you in the world than what we could offer. Didn’t say nothing, for selfish reasons I reckon. But when life calls to you, it’s best not to turn your back on it, so go with our best wishes, John. We’ve got plenty of time to find a replacement, and it’ll be up to Ellie and me to be fair and not compare him to you. Don’t expect it’ll be easy.”

  •

  The winter, though mild, seemed longer than usual to John, even with the work, of which there was never any shortage. In March, Emmett acquired a remuda of forty horses, some of which needed breaking, a task that John gladly looked after. Then he brought Duffy in from the camp to help with training the animals to work with cattle.

  Emmett went to town one day and returned with a used buckboard that he and John converted into a chuckwagon. On another trip, upon Emmett’s advice, John bought a Colt six-shooter for the drive, along with a hand-tooled leather holster and belt.

  “You might need a gun to turn the herd if it stampedes,” Emmett said, “but use it only as a last resort. Cattle and gunfire ain’t usually a good mix because it can spook ’em even more. You might also need it to shoot an Indian or a rustler, but we’ll hope it never comes to that.”

  Excitement ran high at the supper table the night before Emmett and John were to depart. Eight drovers and the remuda had left that morning, along with a cook and a well-stocked chuckwagon. Emmett was more excited than John had ever seen him, insisting that if their gamble paid off and they got most of the herd to Ogallala safely, the Coles stood to earn anywhere from sixty to eighty thousand dollars after expenses. To John, those figures were almost incomprehensible, but he reckoned his friends deserved every penny of it. He also knew that Emmett would be generous when it came to paying out his men, as long as they pulled their weight.

  Early the following morning, the pair saddled their horses and prepared to take their leave from Amos and Ellie. The older couple knew their son would be back, but that it might well be the last time they saw John. Ellie was near tears.

  “I was hoping this day would never come, John, even knowing in my heart that it would. You’ve been like the son we lost, and that’s the highest praise I can offer.” With that, she reached up and pulled John’s head down and kissed his cheek.

  A hundred thoughts ran through John’s mind, but only one formed into words: a half-baked joke that he could say without his feelings catching in his throat. “I heard that the cook Emmett hired has been known to burn water, so besides missin’ you, I expect I’m really gonna miss your cookin’!”

  Ellie laughed, the response he had hoped for, but both knew that he would miss much more than home cooking. The Coles had included him in their lives, brought him inside their circle, and made him feel like a fellow human being instead of chattel. Their generosity had allowed him to discover what he supposed he had been looking for all along: the man he had become.

  While John was talking to Ellie, Amos had gone into the house. He came back out with a brand new Winchester rifle, model 1876, tucked inside a leather scabbard. He handed it to John.

  “A gift to take with you, son, from all of us. It was a good day for the Cole family when you walked through our gate. A sad one now that you’re leaving. Maybe this’ll help you remember us.”

  John accepted the rifle. “It was a good day for me too, Amos. When I left South Carolina, I dreamed of workin’ on a ranch out this way. Never seen in it me ownin’ a horse or havin’ a pocketful of money, or learnin’ as much as I did. And I surely didn’t know I’d meet such fine folks as you. I’m not likely to forget you or forget what you done for me.”

  True to his habit, Amos lifted his hat, brushed his thinning hair back, and said philosophically, “Well, I guess it’s pretty hard to say who done more than the other, ain’t it? Maybe that’s as it oughta be for folks everywhere.”

  John grasped Amos’s extended hand, the grip still hard and firm. “So long, Amos.”

  While Emmett said his own goodbyes, John went to Cat’s right side, lifted the stirrup leather onto the saddle, and cinched the latigo straps on the scabbard to the metal rings there. If he needed the rifle in a hurry, it would be within easy reach. After one final farewell, he and Emmett mounted their horses and nudged them into motion. Neither of them looked back, but they knew that Amos and Ellie would be watching them until they disappeared from view.

  •

  When Emmett had gone north on his learning drive, the route taken was the Chisholm Trail, a well-established track that passed through Fort Worth, crossed the Red River into the middle of the Indian Territory, and ended in Abilene, Kansas. The drive to Ogallala, however, would take a different route that cut through the western edge of the Oklahoma Territory to Dodge City, before continuing on to the Nebraska cattle town and the Union Pacific Railway.

  On the short ride to the camp and herd, Emmett told John that he had let the new cowhands hired for the drive know that a coloured man would be joining them. “Most of ’em don’t have a problem with it but a couple a diehards named Rufus Pauley and Homer Morgan weren’t exactly whistling happy tunes about it. They’re good hands, but if they cause you any trouble, let me know and they’ll be paid up and sent packing.”

  “I can take care of myself, Emmett; you know that.”

  “I do. But for this drive to work, someone’s gotta be in charge and that’s me. You start taking matters into your own hands and it’ll bring nothing but trouble. Meanwhile, the men know your main colour is green and they’ll expect you to start as wrangler. It’s the low board on the fence post, but few men understand horses better than you do, and I figger when they see how good you are at taking care of ’em and how well you handle ’em, they’ll be over to your side without knowing they made the trip.”

  Emmett also cautioned him about Pépin Gireaux, the camp cook. “Call him Pepper or Cookie, but nothing else. Best not to call him Frenchie, unless you wanna get brained by a cast-iron frying pan. And you’ll wanna walk softly around him. Think of the chuckwagon as a country and he’s the king, and the rest of us are simply peasants that he feels obliged to feed. He ruled the roost on the drive to Abilene and he puts in long hours, so if he gets a tad crotchety, all you got to do is walk away and don’t argue with him. He fries up a mean steak and after you’ve had one at the end of a hard day’s ride, I believe you’ll forgive him for most things.”

  At the camp, when Emmett introduced John to the crew, most nodded cordially and said hello: Nathan Pitt, Albert Jackson, Glenford Pounds, Ben Munger, Reg Haliday, Alex Baily, and “Pepper,” the cook. Rufus Pauley and Homer Morgan barely moved their heads. Both seemed like hard cases, particularly Pauley with his thin lips, cold, brooding eyes, and shoulder-length black hair. John was glad to see Duffy’s friendly face among the crew and knew that he would be a staunch ally if one were required.

  There followed a democratic discussion of assignments: who would ride point, who would ride swing and flank, and who would ride the drags. It all boiled down to experience, and so Ben, Nathan, and Rufus, as the most experienced, got the point, leading the herd; Duffy, Reg, and Alex would ride swing and flank on either side of the herd, keeping it in line and picking up strays. The least experienced, Glenford and Albert, would ride drag, keeping the herd moving forward while eating the dust that it churned up. Emmett was trail boss and scout, and John and Homer were in charge of the remuda. Emmett would have liked a better pairing, but with any luck he would open Homer’s
eyes to a much broader world. The drag men would spell them off from time to time, as a much needed break from the dust. John liked that arrangement because it would give him some experience working with the herd.

  He roped off a corral among some trees and drove the horses grazing nearby into it. In the order of their experience and place on the drive, the men had their choice of mounts from the remuda that would be theirs for the duration. John would ride Cat, who was now thirteen years old but still had a lot of spunk, Emmett had Goldy, a beautiful palomino mare, and Pepper had command of the chuckwagon pulled by two mules.

  While the mount selection was under way, Emmett rode amongst the herd and counted them. By his tally, they would be driving a little less than two thousand head of longhorns north. He was a happy man. He cut out an older, dry cow and took her back to camp to slaughter.

  That evening, while the men tended to their equipment, John gathered bundles of oak firewood for the canvas sling beneath the chuckwagon, and got the remuda settled down and hobbled for the night. With help from Emmett, Pepper dressed the slaughtered cow and hung it to cool overnight. They would wrap it in a spare canvas in the morning to keep it cool during the day and hang it out again in the evening when they stopped. The men would have steaks and roasts, and when the meat was too old for those luxuries, Pepper would put it to good use in chili and stews.

  Pepper ground up some beans and put on a final pot of coffee. Emmett was the first to taste it and he sighed appreciatively. “You could float a saddle in this, Pepper. Damned fine brew.”

  There were murmurs of approval from the other hands and Duffy added, “Best damned coffee I ever tasted.”