“You cowardly sonofabitch,” Allison shouted, “I can’t make you stand up like a man, but by God, I’ll make you wish you had. I aim to carve off some parts of your carcass that’ll have you squattin’ like a squaw for the rest of your miserable life.”
Dan’s companions had their hands on the butts of their Colts, but not to protect Clay Allison. Dan Ember was shocked, not so much by what Allison intended to do, as by the look in the man’s eyes. He was mad, totally out of control, and Dan drew his Colt.
“That’s enough, Allison. Back off. Let him go.”
But Allison might not have heard. He was preparing to thrust the Bowie into Mort Suggs’s belly, just below the navel. Dan’s Colt roared, and the knife was torn from Allison’s fist. Allison staggered to his feet and stood there looking dumbly at his empty hand. Dan turned to the terrified Julius and Felix, and his advice didn’t have to be repeated.
“Get him away from here,” Dan said.
The pair seized Mort, and as they dragged him away, he was screaming like a terrified child. Dan wondered if Allison hadn’t extracted a vengeance more terrible than death itself, for Mort Suggs was behaving like a man whose mind had snapped. The other four buffalo hunters had long since departed, and Dan and his three companions rode quickly away. Dan looked back once, and Clay Allison seemed lost as he stood there staring after them. It would be the last time they would see him, a big, handsome man who rode a narrow trail. Ladies adored him, he had the ways of a gentleman, and was a friend to the Indians, but when he slipped over the edge, he became a brutal killer… .
When Dan and his companions returned to the sutler’s, they found Wolf and Silas loading provisions into the wagons. They already had four barrels of flour, two barrels of cornmeal, and many sacks of sugar and coffee.
“Why don’t we get a big load of dried apples?” Silas suggested. “Them dried apple pies is almighty good.”
“Go ahead,” Dan said, “but don’t do that at the expense of the bacon.”
“Let’s get a coffee grinder too,” Wolf said. “For an outfit like ours, it’d take half a day to smash enough beans just for breakfast coffee.”
They bought sacks of salt and tinned goods, including peaches, tomatoes, and condensed milk. Dan filled one wagon almost entirely with hams and sides of bacon.
“Beefs all right,” he said, “but nothing flavors a pot of frijoles like big hunks of ham.”
Goldstein had kept a running total as they loaded the wagons, and when there was no more room, he presented the bill. It was six hundred dollars. Dan nodded and they all left the store. Dan, Tobe, Walt, and Monte rode back ahead of the loaded wagons, and never was there the like of the shouting and laughing that greeted them when they reached their camp. Denny and his wrangler friends rode out and escorted them in, and when Dan swung out of the saddle, Lenore and Adeline were waiting to greet him.
“By God,” Duncan Kilgore shouted, “there is a Santa Claus.”
“Is true,” Palo Elfego said.
“Time to celebrate,” Wolf Bowdre said. “Let’s have a mess of fried ham, Dutch oven biscuits, and hot coffee with honest-to-God milk and sugar,”
“But it’s only three hours until suppertime,” Fanny protested.
“What the hell,” Bowdre laughed, “we’ll have some more then.”
“Sorry,” Adeline said, “but no sourdough biscuits for a while. We have to set the dough to working.”
“I know we have beans,” Dan said. “Drop a ham in the pot, heat it up, and we’ll have it with our coffee. I reckon well have to wait on the Dutch oven biscuits, but we have some celebrating to do.”
The men slapped him on the back and all the women made such a fuss over him, Dan was embarrassed, but he soon overcame that. It became a festive occasion as they savored the hot coffee and sugar most of them hadn’t tasted in almost ten years. The longhorns and the horse remuda grazed along the Brazos, and despite the realization that much of the hard trail still lay ahead of them, the Texans rejoiced in their good fortune. Through stampedes, storms, and dust they had brought the herd this far, and now they were enjoying some of the fruits of their labors. If they had done this well while still in war-weary Texas, what might they accomplish in Dodge City, with a railroad on the way?
Their celebration lasted on into the night, and they all were still in high spirits the next morning, for they had yet to go to the store for their new clothing. After breakfast Dan announced the order in which they would visit the sutler’s store for their clothing.
“With all the buffalo hunters and bone gatherers at the fort, we can’t all go at once. Why not three families at a time? I’m riding in to see when Goldstein’s men can begin shoeing our horses and mules, so the first three can ride in with me. I believe half a day will be enough time, and when you first three return, three more can go. If you don’t finish, we can always arrange for you to go back another time. I think we’d better go by your names, in alphabetical order. That means Bowdre, Barnfield, and Beard will go this morning, and Carper, Chambers, and Connolly will go this afternoon. The rest of you can figure out the order, and in three and a half days we should all have had a chance to go.”
“Do you aim to go as Ember or DeVoe?” Boyce Tre-vino asked.
“I reckon I’ll go as a DeVoe,” said Dan. “That way, I’ll be able to go sooner.” He laughed, and they laughed with him.
“Well be going tomorrow morning,” Lenore said, “and I just can’t wait. I’ve never had new clothes before.”
When Dan rode in, the Bowdres, the Barnfields, and the Beards accompanied him. Dan went directly to Goldstein’s little office.
“There are four men at the blacksmith’s,” Goldstein said. “I’m assigning three of them to you for as long as it takes. They’ll give you some idea as to how many animals they can shoe in a day, and it will be up to you to see that the shod horses are removed and those yet to be shod are brought in.”
Dan nodded his satisfaction and went directly to the blacksmith shop. The man in charge was built like a grizzly and his name was McNaughton.
“I dunno how many we can do in a day,” he said. “Depends mostly on the horse or mule. Some behaves themselves and some gives us hell. You can see they ain’t no graze in the garrison, and water’s got to be hauled from the river, so we can’t keep ‘em in here any longer’n it takes to shoe ‘em. I’d say bring us a dozen head and we’ll see how long it takes. Since you’ll be on the trail, will you be wantin’ extra shoes?”
“Yes,” Dan said. “A full set on each animal, with one extra for the back, and one extra for the front.”
“That’ll take longer,” McNaughton said.
“I realize that,” Dan said, “but it can’t be helped. I’ll send some riders with the first dozen horses.”
Dan rode back to the outfit and selected Boyce Trevino, Rufe Keeler, Duncan Kilgore, Skull Kimbrough, Garret Haddock, and Kirby Wilkerson.
“Each of you rope two horses needing to be shod and take them to the blacksmith,” Dan said. “Begin with your own favorites and those of our other riders. Chato’s remuda will be shod last.”
“What about the mules?” Silas asked.
“They’ll have a rest until we take the trail again,” Dan said. “I think we’ll have them reshod before we get to Chato’s remuda.”
“It kind of rubs me the wrong way, us spendin’ that kind of money on a bunch of hosses that ain’t even ours,” Silas said.
“Don’t let it bother you,” Dan said. “We have the use of horses that we couldn’t afford, just for the price of new shoes. Whoever they belonged to, and however Chato got them, we’re obliged to him for allowing us to use them.”
“If what this Major Montgomery says is true—that the government ain’t allowed to buy from Rebs—you may be havin’ some trouble sellin’ all them hosses for Chato,” Silas said.
“I’ve considered that,” Dan said, “but with Dodge being a new town, I’m expecting a considerable market for livestock, withou
t even bothering with the government. I think we’ll have speculators bidding for our beef long before the railroad gets there.”
“There’s some things you forgot,” Adeline said when she finally got Dan’s attention. “It takes more than flour to make sourdough biscuits. We’ll need at least a few potatoes and some baking soda for the starter.”
“Write me out a list of what’s needed,” Dan said. “I’ll be riding in to see how the shoeing of the horses is coming along, and I’ll get the rest of your supplies.”
It was near noon when the Bowdres, the Barnfields, and the Beards rode in from town. Dan had quietly spoken to the men, limiting each family to fifty dollars for clothing. Once he had gotten the new Winchesters from Goldstein, whatever credit was left could then be shared by the outfit, but there was no room for extravagance. Even with their fifty dollar limit, it seemed those who had been to the store had done well, and the second trio of families prepared to ride in. Dan waited until late afternoon before riding in to see about the horses.
“We’ll finish this bunch today,”. McNaughton said, “and you’ll have to get ‘em out of here before dark. Bring a new bunch in the mornin’, and unless I tell you different, a dozen at a time.”
Dan returned to the sutler’s, bought a pound of potatoes and several tins of baking soda, and returned to their camp on the Brazos. The Carpers, Chambers, and Connollys were just returning to camp, while Dan was preparing to ride in for the newly shod horses.
“There’s an Indian scare at the fort,” Cash Connolly said. “Three of them buffalo hunters was found dead maybe four miles north of the fort. All had their throats cut, but one of ‘em had been stripped naked and mutilated somethin’ awful. Soldiers are callin’ it Comanche work, but nobody’s seen any of the varmints.”
Dan found Tobe Barnfield, Walt Crump, and Monte Walsh looking at him, but he said nothing. The four of them knew what the military probably would never learn. The Suggs brothers had come to a predictable bad end, but not at the hands of the Comanches.
The following morning Walt Crump and his wife, Palo Elfego and his family, and the DeVoes rode in to the store for their winter clothing. Dan went with the DeVoes. All he wanted was a sheepskin-lined coat. The DeVoes’ needs were greater than his. Shirts and Levi’s would satisfy Denny, and he knew Adeline wouldn’t be hard to please, but he wasn’t sure about Lenore. They lost her almost immediately after entering the store, and when they found her, she was among the women’s fancy dresses and gowns.
“I like this,” Lenore said, holding up a red frilly dress so Adeline could see. “What do you think, Ma?”
“I think,” Adeline said, “if you mounted a horse wearing that, every man in the outfit would give you his undivided attention.”
Dan and Denny laughed, along with some other men who had overheard, and the embarrassed girl covered her face with the offending garment. Dan poked his head under it, made her laugh, and the four of them went looking for shirts, Levi’s, and coats they would need in the north country.
*Whatever Washington’s intentions, the improvements were never made. With the end of Indian raids and the rapid advance of settlements, this and many other forts had outlived their usefulness. Fort Griffin was abandoned in 1881.
12
Fort Griffin, Texas. Sunday, October 9, 1870.
“Silas,” Dan said, “choose four men who are handy with tools to help us caulk the wagon boxes. Two of the men will work with you, and the other two will work with me. We’ll want to allow the pitch a few days to harden before we put our work to a test in the river.”
Silas chose Boyce Trevino, Spence Wilder, Skull Kim-brough, and Kirby Wilkerson. Skull and Kirby chose to work with Dan.
“Kirby,” Dan said, “Silas and his boys are starting with his wagon, so we’ll start with yours.”
“I can’t speak for the rest of the wagons,” Kirby said, “but I reckon mine will need more than just a mess of pitch to keep the water out.”
“The wood’s not all that solid, then.”
“No,” Kirby said. “For crossin’ deep water, I doubt we can make do with anything less than a new wagon box. I wasn’t thinking ahead to these river crossings, or I’d of left the damn thing behind.”
“I doubt the others thought that far ahead either,” Dan said. “I reckon we’d better get with Silas and talk this over. We may need more than just one wagon box, and that means some good, seasoned lumber.”
“My wagon ain’t nowheres near perfect,” Silas admitted, “but the box is solid oak. I reckon that won’t be enough when it comes to water proofin’, though. No matter how close them floorboards is fitted, you purely ain’t gonna pitch them cracks tight enough to keep the water out.”
“We need some long, flat oak strips, maybe four inches wide,” Spence Wilder said. “Then we nail this new oak down solid, coverin’ the cracks, using the pitch to seal the edges of this new wood to the original floor.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Dan said, “as far as it goes, and that brings us back to my original question. Silas, hadn’t we better have a look at the rest of the wagons? Kirby believes he’ll need a new wagon box, and there’s a chance some of the other wagons will too. If we have to build one new box, then let’s get the materials to build as many as we’ll need, and be done with it. We’re piling up an almighty lot of work for ourselves, but these wagons have been a blessing.”
An inspection of the other wagons revealed that the Bowdre and McNelly wagons also needed new wagon boxes.
“There’s a pile of sawed lumber inside the stockade,” Silas said. “It’s piled there at one end of the log house they’re usin’ for an orderly room, and it’s pretty well weathered, so it’s been there awhile.”
“I expect it belongs to the military,” Dan said. “From what the corporal told us, they’ve put up temporary wood buildings, expecting to replace them with stone. I’m going to talk to Major Montgomery and see if we can maybe use some of that wood for wagon boxes.”
Dan called on the post commander and was again well-received. When he told Major Montgomery what he wanted, the officer didn’t answer for a moment. When he did, it was favorable.
“Take what you can use,” he said. “That’s material left from the original construction, and officially it doesn’t exist. Rumor has it that Fort Griffin is to become a permanent installation, with most of the present structures to be replaced with stone.”
Most of the discarded lumber proved to be poplar or oak, seasoned and hard as stone. It proved difficult to saw, and nails bent quickly and often. The six men put in a week of hard labor building three new wagon boxes, and that didn’t include the necessary caulking.
“We’ll caulk every box,” Dan said, “let them set a day or two, and then go over them again. In a week we’ll float them across the river and back.”
Dan began each day by taking horses to the blacksmith’s, and concluded it by going after them. Everybody within the outfit had been to the sutler’s for clothes and a coat and gloves. Finally, a week after the last caulking of the wagon boxes, Dan judged it was time to test them with a river crossing.
“We’ll load them with rocks,” he said, “and pull them across with ropes, just as we’ll have to do on the trail. If they fail the test, there’ll be more work for us.”
“I aim to ride across in mine,” Silas said. “If the varmint leaks, then I want to know where the holes is.”
“I reckon one of us should ride across in all of them,” Dan said, “and if there’s more caulking to do, we’ll be able to concentrate on the weak places. Silas, we might as well take yours first.”
Heavy rocks were placed in all four corners of the wagon box, simulating a heavy load. Four lariats were tied together, one end tied to the wagon tongue, the other to Dan’s saddle horn. He swam his horse across the river, and when the wagon was ready, he would pull it across. Wolf Bowdre and Tobe Barnfield would steady the wagon on the upstream side. Silas mounted the box, and Wolf Bowdre secured one
end of his lariat to an iron ring anchored to the wagon box, just above the left front wheel. Tobe Barnfield tied his lariat to an identical iron ring bolted to the wagon box just above the left rear wheel. Sloan Kuykendall and Kirby Wilkerson had secured their lariats in similar positions on the downriver side of the wagon. From the wagon box, Silas waved his hat, and Dan urged his horse forward. The wagon began to roll toward the sloping riverbank, the four riders siding it keeping even with it. The wagon lurched forward as the front wheels left solid ground, righting itself as Dan’s horse took up the slack in the line. The current seized the wagon and tried to carry it away, but Tobe Barnfield and Wolf Bowdre steadied it with their lariats on the upriver side. Slowly, surely, they guided the wagon across the Brazos until it lumbered out on the opposite bank.
“She ain’t leaked yet,” Silas crowed. “Let’s take her back across.”
The return trip was equally successful, and the heavy stones were shifted to Kirby Wilkerson’s wagon. It crossed easily, with Rufe Keeler riding the wagon box and watching for leaks. This was a critical milestone in their journey to Dodge, and the entire outfit gathered to watch the testing of the wagons. There were shouts as each wagon crossed and returned, and when the seventh —Walt Crump’s—returned safely, there was a delighted roar. Crump had ridden the wagon box across and back, and he was furiously waving his hat.
“Well, by God,” Wolf Bowdre said, “whatever other problems we have on the way to Dodge, gettin’ the wagons across the rivers won’t be one of ‘em.”
“I’m feelin’ a mite better about it,” Silas said, “but I still aim to take a bunch of that pitch with me.”
Except for the shoeing of the horses and mules, Dan had just one more piece of business with Elwood Goldstein. He still had to get the much-needed Winchester repeating rifles and a supply of ammunition. Goldstein was all business, unsociable, and about as friendly as a sore-tailed grizzly, and Dan looked forward to being free of the man. It wouldn’t be any easier, he thought, if he waited until the last day, so he decided to be done with it. The morning after the wagons had been successfully floated, he spoke to Silas Hamby and Wolf Bow-dre.
The Dodge City Trail Page 16
