by Len Levinson
“What meetin’?” asked Drake, who wore a goatee and was fat as a pig.
“Captain Taggart’s holding a final meeting, and he wants everybody to attend.”
Holton looked at Stone and smiled. “Tell you what, friend. Why don’t you attend the meeting for us, and then come back and tell us what he said.”
“Don’t have time for that.”
“Don’t have time for the meeting.”
Stone yanked out both his pistols. “Let’s move it out, boys.”
Holton held the ace of spades in his hand and froze when he saw the pistol. “Now wait just a goddamn minute!”
Stone pulled the trigger, and a hole appeared in the middle of the spade. Holton stared at it, aghast.
“What time did you say that meeting was starting?” Holton asked.
“It’s starting right now.”
“We’d better get a move on.”
Holton and Drake climbed down from the wagon. They grinned and winked at Stone, then walked swiftly toward the bonfire on the other side of the campsite.
Stone holstered his pistol and walked around the perimeter of the campsite to the oldest, most ramshackle wagon on the train. This was the one belonging to the four dudes from the East: Leary, Maxsell, Hodge, and Tramm. As Stone approached, he heard a fiddle playing. No curtain was strung over the back of the wagon, and he saw the four dudes sprawled around, with Tramm playing the fiddle.
“Howdy boys,” Stone said. “Going to the meeting?”
Maxsell raised his hand in the air, and in his hand was a bottle of whiskey. “Have a drink.” he said.
Stone climbed into the wagon, and all he could smell was whiskey. The four dudes were drunk out of their minds. He accepted the bottle, took a swig, and tossed the bottle over his shoulder. It fell to the ground and crashed into tiny pieces.
A hurt expression appeared on Maxsell’s face. “Hey, friend, what you do that for?”
“You boys have got yourselves a little too drunk.”
“A man’s got to have his whiskey.”
“There’s a meeting going on, and you don’t want to miss it, so let’s go.”
Maxsell shook his head. “What the hell we have to go to the meetin’ for?”
Stone moved toward him, lifted him up, and pitched him out the rear of the wagon. Maxsell somersaulted through the air and landed on his back.
“Let’s go,” Stone said to the other three.
“We’re a-comin’!” said Tramm.
Hodge, Tramm, and Leary climbed down from the wagon and headed toward the bonfire. Maxsell followed, rubbing his sore ass. Stone was a few steps behind Maxsell, thinking that he definitely didn’t want to be coping with drunks for the entire journey to Texas.
They came closer to the blazing fire, and light flickered on the faces of the people gathered around it. Stone looked up and saw a few patches of cloud covering the stars. Taggart stood near his wagon, smoking a cigar. “Everybody here?” he asked.
“Everybody’s here,” Stone said.
“What was the shootin’ I heard?”
“Nothing important.”
Taggart rubbed his hands together. “We might as well get started.”
Taggart sauntered to the front of the assembly. The farmers and their families waited intently for what he had to say, while the drunks and loafers congregated in back, grumbling and spitting. Collins grimaced as he pressed his filthy bandanna against what remained of his ear.
Taggart held up his hands to quiet everybody down. He wore his wide-brimmed hat, and the reflection of the fire illuminated his ruddy features.
“First thing tomorrow morning, we’re movin’ out,” Taggart said. “We’ll want to get an early start so we can cover as much ground as possible, and that’ll go for every day we’re on the trail, so I’ll expect you to cooperate. We’ll all git up at dawn every day, and there can’t be no exceptions to the rule.
“It’s gonna be a long, hard trip. We’ll be passin’ through country where there’s Injuns, outlaws, wild animals, and you-name-it. Our only hope is to stay together and help each other. There might come a time when we have to fight for our lives. All I can say is you’d better make every shot count.
“A wagon train works best when there’s only one man in charge, and everybody else does what he says. I’m the man in charge, and what I say goes. We can’t all be pullin’ in different directions whenever there’s trouble. I told you this before when you all signed up, but I want to tell you again. I give the orders. That don’t mean that I don’t wanna hear your suggestions. If we have time, we’ll talk things over. But when it comes right down to it, I give the orders.”
Taggart continued his lecture, talking about terrain, supplies, the formation of the wagon train, etc. Stone stood with his arms crossed, his eyes roving back and forth over the people in the audience. He wondered how many of them would be alive when they arrived in Texas.
His eyes fell on Alice McGhee, listening intently to what Taggart said. She’d make a good wife for some lucky man, take care of his house, and give him plenty of babies.
He looked back toward the miners, the gamblers, and the city slickers. If there was any trouble on the trail, Stone expected it from them.
Taggart was finishing up his lecture. “We’ve been gettin’ to know each other these past few days,” he said, “and in the days to come we’re gonna get to know each other a damn sight better. I hope we like each other, but if we don’t, we have to get along and work with each other anyways, because we’ll all be dependin’ on each other out there on the plains. If we work together, we’ll all get to Texas in one piece. Any questions?”
The people looked at each other, but nobody said anything. Taggart turned to Stone. “You got anything to say, Captain?”
Stone shook his head.
Taggart faced the group once more, and Reverend Joshua McGhee’s hand went up.
“Yes, Reverend?”
“I wonder if I might say a little prayer for all of us.”
“I’ve no objection.”
Reverend McGhee stood up, and his wife and daughter gazed at him proudly as he took off his hat and clasped his hands together. He was bald and wore long chin whiskers and no mustache. “Dear Lord,” he said, “please safeguard us on our journey through your great plains. Please bless us and keep us, and make Your face shine upon us. You have brought us together, and we have confidence that You’ll lead us to our promised land, just like the Israelites. Thank You for the blessings You have already showered upon us, Lord. Thy will be done. Amen.”
Reverend McGhee prayed silently for a few moments, then sat down. The people around him unclasped their hands and opened their eyes.
“Anybody else got anything to say?”
No hands went up.
“All right,” Taggart said. “Let’s turn in and get a good night’s sleep, because we want to make an early start tomorrow.”
The people got to their feet and slapped the grass and dust from their britches or dresses. They dispersed across the campsite, and Taggart walked back to Stone.
“I seen Mister Collins holding his bandanna against the side of his face,” Taggart said, “and it looked like he was bleedin’. What’d you do to him?”
“I shot his ear off.”
Taggart blinked in disbelief. “What you do that for?”
“To convince him to come to the meeting.”
“Yer awful quick to use them guns of yer’n, but one of these days, somebody’s liable to sneak up behind you and shoot you in the back.”
“He’d be doing me a favor,” Stone said.
“Do me a favor, will you? Stay out of trouble until we get this wagon train to Texas.”
The bonfire died down. Stone unrolled his blanket a short distance away and set up his saddle for a pillow. Taggart crawled into the wagon and groaned as he lay down. Stone sat on his blanket and smoked a cigarette. One by one, the lanterns went out in the wagons.
The only sound was wood crac
kling in the fire pit. Stone smoked his cigarette to the butt and threw it into the fire. Then he lay down and covered himself with the blanket. As he fell asleep, he thought, I’m going to Texas.
Chapter Five
Breakfast fires burned and sputtered as the first glimmer of dawn appeared on the horizon. The electricity of anticipation was in the air. Soon the wagon train would begin its long journey toward Texas.
Taggart fried bacon and boiled coffee, and the combination of fragrances cheered Stone’s heart. He walked down to the stream and splashed water on his face, joining other travelers who already were there.
The glowing, molten sun rose in the sky, casting long shadows across the campsite as Stone ate a hearty breakfast with Taggart.
“Gonna be a great day,” Taggart said. “Can feel it in my bones. Yer to ride in advance of us, but never get out of sight. We’ll want to see you, and you’ll want to see us. It’s big country out there, and easy to get separated.”
They finished breakfast, and it was Stone’s turn to wash the dishes. Then he saddled his horse and rode it back to the wagon, tethering it to the tailgate. The horse had grown fatter from rest and continual grazing on grass rich in nutrients. It was raring to go.
Taggart and Stone loaded their goods into the wagon, and Taggart sat on the front seat. He slapped the reins against the horses’ asses, and the wagon moved out toward the western side of the campsite. Taggart let the wagon pass the edge of the campsite and continue for an additional two hundred yards, then reined in the horses.
Stone rode beside Taggart, and his horse pranced around as if on parade.
“Tell the others to line up behind me,” Taggart said.
Stone galloped off, and when he came to the first wagon, he told the Donahue family to fall in behind Taggart. Then Stone rode on to the next wagon, where the McGhees were waiting, and gave them the same orders. Stone proceeded from wagon to wagon, and everybody was ready, smiles on their faces.
They were embarking on a great adventure, and they all knew it. One by one, the wagons formed a long line behind Taggart. Dogs yelped and children sang songs as they gazed over the tailgates.
Stone felt optimistic, as though one chapter in his life was ending and a brand new chapter was beginning. His horse galloped along, and he sat erectly in the saddle, the morning breeze cooling his face.
Finally all the wagons were lined up. Stone rode to the lead wagon and reined his horse in. “We’re all set to go,” he told Taggart.
Taggart stood on his seat and looked back over the top of his wagon. He saw the long line behind him, the sun gleaming on the canvas that covered the wagons. Taggart raised his arm in the air and pointed it west.
“Wagons ho!” he roared.
Taggart dropped to his seat and slapped the reins on the haunches of his horses. They strained against their harnesses and pulled the wagon forward. Stone spurred his horse and rode off at an angle so he could see the wagon train moving out. One by one, the wagons edged forward, and soon they all were moving. It was a beautiful sight. At last the wagon train was on its way to Texas.
Stone’s horse felt the excitement and became frisky. The horse raised its forelegs into the air, pawed around, and then dropped down again. Stone spurred the horse toward the second wagon, where the Donahues were riding.
Stewart Donahue sat on the front seat with his hands on the reins. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and his massive forearms could be seen. His wife, Martha, wearing a bonnet, sat beside him.
“Everything all right so far?” Stone asked.
“Jest fine,” Stewart Donahue replied.
Stone rode back to the next wagon, where the three McGhee’s were seated at the front of their wagon, and Alice was closest to Stone.
“Any problems?” Stone asked.
“Not yet,” the Reverend Joshua McGhee said.
Stone felt Alice’s intense gaze. He looked at her, and she smiled. Wheeling his horse, he rode back to the next wagon.
Everything was rolling along fine. Even the old rickety wagons belonging to the dance hall girls and the dudes from the East were holding together.
The last wagon of the train contained the miners, and Wayne Collins held the reins, his filthy bandanna tied around his head to cover his mutilated ear. Joe Doakes and Georgie Saulnier sat on either side of him, and they were hung over.
“Don’t fall too far behind,” Stone told them. “We’re counting on you to bring up the rear.”
“We’ll be here,” Doakes said, “mainly ‘cause there ain’t no place else to go.”
Stone spurred his horse, and it galloped up the long row of wagons. Finally he came to Taggart at the front.
“Everything’s fine,” Stone said to Taggart.
“Ride up ahead there and get started earnin’ yer pay. We probably won’t have any trouble the first day, but we have to be ready.”
Stone prodded his horse, and it trotted ahead of the wagon train. The sun climbed in the sky, shining brightly on the grassy swales. A few clouds like puffy white cotton balls drifted east.
He slowed down his horse when he was three or four hundred yards in advance of the wagon train and turned around in his saddle. He saw the wagon train like a long white snake behind him, sending up a huge cloud of dust.
Such a procession would attract a lot of attention once they got into Indian country. More than one wagon train had disappeared without a trace on the plains.
Stone took his map out of his shirt and looked for the first water hole, figuring they’d reach it sometime during the late afternoon. Putting the map away, he urged his horse forward again, this time at a slow walk so he wouldn’t get too far ahead of the wagon train.
The wagon train proceeded into the vast western plains. Stone was struck by the sheer endlessness of the ever-changing terrain. There were flatlands, rolling hills, gorges, valleys, buttes, and ridges. Occasionally in the distance he saw a farmhouse. He wondered what it would be like to live in a remote area with Marie and raise cattle. No wonder people left the congested East to come out here. There was a fabulous feeling of freedom, and the air was pure and sweet.
Stone studied the terrain with the eyes of a soldier and saw many suitable spots where an ambush could be laid. The Indians would have the element of surprise on their side. They also were said to be masters of camouflage.
The sheer, stunning beauty of the land was overwhelming, and the vastness of it staggered his imagination. It seemed impossible that a land could be so huge. And it kept going on and on endlessly.
Stone looked back to make sure he wasn’t getting too far ahead of the wagon train. So far it was an easy job, but it wouldn’t be easy for long.
The sun blazed in the sky, and at high noon Stone rode back to the wagon train. Taggart sat on the front seat of his wagon, munching a biscuit.
“We stopping for lunch?” Stone asked.
“Got to keep goin’ till we reach the river. Climb aboard.”
Stone moved his horse closer to the wagon and jumped from one to the other. He tied the horse to a cleat on the wagon, and Taggart handed him the bag of biscuits and a chunk of jerked meat.
Stone gnawed on a biscuit. “When do you think we’ll come to Indian country.”
“We’re in it already. Maybe we ain’t seen them, but I bet they damn well seen us.”
Stone drank some water and climbed into his saddle. He untied his horse and rode back to check the other wagons. Everything seemed to be going all right; nobody had broken down yet.
Stone couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable when he passed the McGhee wagon, because young Alice McGhee continued to give him that long, smoldering look. He wondered if she was even conscious of what she was doing.
Stone rode past all the wagons as dogs barked at him and children waved. Then he turned around and galloped back to Taggart.
“Take the point, Captain Stone!”
Stone pulled his hat tight onto his head, and spurred his horse onward, thinking about what Taggar
t had said. He couldn’t see the Indians, but the Indians could see him. Stone looked at the hills and ravines around him, looking for the telltale movement or shape that would indicate the presence of Indians but didn’t see anything.
It was almost like being in the war again, on patrol, and brought back memories of Wade Hampton and Jeb Stuart, and old Troop C of the First South Carolina Cavalry. Stone was armed better than he’d been in the war with his two modern pistols and rifle, but instead of seventy or eighty hard-riding cavalry soldiers, he had a wagon train of farmers, miners, dudes, gamblers, and dance hall girls. He wondered how such a group would perform in a pitched battle. Somehow Stone didn’t think they’d do so well.
Finally, late in the afternoon, Stone came to the river. It was overflowing its banks due to the rainstorm of a few days ago, moving along swiftly. Trees grew on both sides of the river, and beyond the trees on the far side were high rock bluffs. Stone took out his map and checked to see where he was. Then he turned around and saw the wagon train coming. There was no point riding back to tell Taggart the river was here. He’d find out soon enough.
Stone rolled a cigarette and lit it. He figured it was around four o’clock in the afternoon. He looked at the valley and river and thought it a nice place to put a cabin. The land nearby would grow anything you planted in it, and there was plenty of grazing for livestock.
The wagon train arrived at the bank of the river. “Go on across,” Taggart said. “We’ll make camp on the other side.”
Stone nudged his horse forward. The animal hesitated at first, then plunged in. The water was icy cold, and Stone felt his legs go numb. He held his rifle in the air as his horse swam to the other side.
The horse’s hooves touched bottom, and the horse climbed the far side of the river. Stone surged out of the water, and they came to dry land. He turned the horse around and saw Taggart whacking his horses with the reins.
The team of horses drew his wagon into the river, and it sank down to the floorboards. Taggart yipped and yelled, exhorting the horses to keep moving. They pulled him up on the other side as water poured down from their flanks.
