He paid the carpenter and nodded. “You did a great job. My guess is that there will be more than one trail drive bunch in here in the next few months and they will need chuck wagons. Why don’t you make up one like this in your spare time? Might be a good side business for you.”
The wood man agreed and waved at Sully who ran next door to the stable and brought out his draft horse which he hitched up to the chuck wagon and slid onto the small seat perched just in the front of the rig.
He drove to the hotel and saw that it was just a bit after seven o’clock. Five men with horses waited just outside. He waved at them. They crowded around the chuck wagon and each had something to say.
“Before we move I want to look at the rifles that you men have. They don’t have to be new ones or the latest, just so they shoot and you have about a hundred rounds of ammo for them.
“A hundred?” on man asked. “I’m a little short.”
“Loan you some of mine,” another man said.
Sully checked the rifles. One Henry, two Remington’s and two something else. All were in good condition.
“Okay we go over to the General Store and load up what you guys are going to be eating for the next two weeks.”
Ten minutes later the goods were loaded in the front and back of the chuck wagon and they were on the trail south. Once into the ride they strung out a ways and Sully waved for Hardy Young to ride up beside him wee he sat on the high chuck wagon seat.
“I’m making you the spokesman for the rest of the riders,” Sully said. “So what do you think so far?”
“Looks good. A couple of these guys had never owned a rifle. We got them one and did some shooting practice so they at least can make a lot of noise. Yeah, I think you’re off to a good start.”
They were about a quarter of a mile out of town when a rider came up fast behind them. Sully stopped the wagon and waited for him.
It was Newton, the town marshal. He waved a wanted poster. He came to a stop and looked at Sully.
“Hey, said you were Sully Roberts. You got any kin named Sully too? Got me a wanted poster for a Sully Sampson. Some general in Tennessee says this Sully Sampson is wanted for robbing an army payroll and killing several men.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sully felt an icy shiver skitter down his back as the familiar name was used twice. His old name.
“Told you my name is Sully Roberts, Marshal. There must be hundreds of ex-soldiers named Sully. Took a count in my home town once and there were fourteen of us. All with different last names. Looks like you made a hard ride out here for nothing, Marshal.”
“Yeah, I figured that way, too. But I had to check it out. You was in the war, right?”
“Sure, most men north and south my age got a crack at being a deadly killer soldier. Some of them made it. Not my long suit. Anything else, Marshal?”
“Hell, reckon not. If you was the right Sully I could have made myself a five hundred dollar reward.”
“Hey, sorry about that, Marshal. Maybe on the next poster you’ll have better luck. Now we better get moving if I want to get this chuck wagon of mine down the grade into the big valley.”
“You way down there,” the Marshal said. “Been guessing there would be more cowboys in here hunting then free steers. Maybe too early.” He took off his high crowned hat, wiped sweat off his forehead, then nestled the hat back in place.
“Well, Sully Roberts, good luck in your drive. Yep everybody in town knows all about it. You take now.” The marshal turned his horse and rode at a walk back toward Conner’s Corner.
Sully watched him go for a minute then lifted his hand over his head and give the forward motion as he brought it down. Too late he realized it was an army move, but no one seemed to pay any attention to it. They were off and moving again.
He knew the right track to get back to the big valley and the way down the slope. They didn’t make it by dark but he slowed a little and they had no trouble. At the campsite he showed the new men the fence and the penned in cattle.
“These are the critters we will be moving out first thing in the morning,” Sully said. “They should be anxious to move since they have been restricted here for the past few days. We’ll head almost due east through the valley then see what kind of land we have to cover. Shouldn’t be any big problems between here and Fort Worth. At least no big rivers to swim. We’ll have a campfire and some coffee, then be time to hit the blankets.”
They did. Sully sat on his blankets in the lean to a minute thinking. It had been a good day. The chuck wagon was more than he expected. The five riders looked like they could do the work. So in the morning they would pack up and get moving.
Curley came around and sat down across from Sully.
“Been looking at the chuck wagon with candles. She sure is loaded. Going to be fun cooking out of there. Get a start in the morning with bacon and eggs. Then pack in the rest of the cooking things and we’re off. Never did say but I just figured I’d be driving the wagon. Right?”
“Right you go ahead of us when the line slows down or lay back when the critters are moving good. Just hit a stopping spot long about noon and get the chow going.”
“Yeah, that I can do. Sure hope we don’t run into any trouble. You think we’ll see anyone else driving a herd toward Fort Worth?”
“Hope not. Like to be the first one to get some beef into that market. Right now I’m getting some shut eye.”
Curley waved and stretched out on his blankets.
The next morning Sully was up at five o’clock just before sunrise. Wood smoke had awakened him. He saw Curley already had the cooking fire going letting the sticks burn down to red hot coals for his cooking.
Breakfast was a stack of hot cakes with a sunny side egg on top and three strips of bacon with coffee.
By seven o’clock all had been fed and the men looked at Sully.
“Yeah, forgot to tell you. This is branding day. We have a hundred and nine out there to burn their hides. How many of you have used a branding iron before?”
Only one hand went up. Greg Victor nodded.
“Oh, yeah, put in my time with an iron. Reckon I can do some more. Let’s see the irons.”
They built two fires out near the herd and got a start. It was slow going. They had no proper branding chute to hold the animal. Most of the steers and cows were too big to be put on the ground. They roped them head and rear feet to hold as steady as they could to give Greg a good shot at using the iron.
He was good, and Sully saw that the brands were burned through the hair and just slightly into the thick cowhide. They should head well before they reached Fort Worth. It would have been impossible to sell the herd without brands. Sully reminded himself that he had to stop the drive near Gunsight so he could file his brand with the sheriff who would forward it to the state capital. Then it all would be legal.
It took them two hard days’ work to get all of the animals branded. The branded ones were penned behind a rope corral to keep them apart. It was slow grinding work and only the good food from Curley’s chuck wagon kept them hard at work.
They finished in the afternoon of the second day.
“Good work,” Sully told them. Take a breather now until supper, then get a good night’s sleep. We hit the trail east first thing in the morning.”
The next morning by seven o’clock they had the gate open, the two old trail cows up front and began to herd the cattle out the gate and to the east. It took them an hour to get the line of seven or eight wide and as long as it took to get the cattle moving in the right order.
It seemed like to Sully that once the critters saw what they needed to do, they figured it was easier to stay in line than to challenge the men on a horse with the snapping ropes.
Sully had assigned the men with two riders on drag to bring back in line any that strayed, and one man on each side as flankers to keep the cows in the line. There were a few single cows that broke out of line and ran for the side, but the flankers
caught them and angled them back into the line. There were fewer for the drag men to handle and Sully was satisfied. He had the fifth rider at the head to keep the lead cows going in the right direction. He figured they were making about four miles an hour. He turned and rode on east ahead of the line figuring out the best route to travel over the undeveloped land. It was mostly west Texas prairie, with a few low ridges and lots of open land with a small stream cutting through here and there.
They had gone what Sully figured was about ten miles east when he heard gunshots ahead. He squinted into the light and saw three riders charging ahead at galloping speed and firing what he figured were six-guns in the air. He lifted his Henry from the boot and put a rifle round across in front of the three when they were at about four hundred yards away. A second shot came closer and the trio pulled up abruptly. That was when Sully heard gunfire from the rear. He steadied his horse to a stop and sighted in on the closest horse in front of him out the four hundred yards. His shot was low. It made the target horse jump back. Sully’s second shot took the animal in the withers and put her down pawing the ground and dumping the rider off. The man on the ground rolled, jumped up and checked his horse. She wasn’t getting up. He raced to the nearest of the other two riders, swung up behind the saddle, and the two rode off to the northeast without any rifle fire in return. Sully figured they didn’t have rifles with them. He turned and rode to the west along the line of cows that had kept moving during the small gun fight. As he neared the end of the line he saw the two drag riders dismounted and using their rifles. That was when he heard rifle shots from somewhere west of the drag men.
He rode up to the nearest one and slid off his mount. He dropped in beside the rifleman.
“How many of them?” Sully asked.
“Figure just two, “Hardy Young said. “I put down one of their horses. They still want to fight.”
“Give me a target,” Sully said. Young pointed out a bulge in the landscape about three hundred yards back.
“Guy behind his horse,” Young said.
Sully and Young both put three rounds each into the area hitting the horse and slamming just over top. There was no return fire.
“He’s running,” Young said. The other man still is astride. Picking up his buddy and tearing off for parts to the north and unknown.”
Greg Victor ran up to the other two.
“They are running,” Victor said.
“Let’s get mounted up and see to the herd,” Sully said. “You both did good. Now all we have to figure out is why they hit us at both ends. I had two riders shooting up a storm with hand guns in front. No rifle fire. They took off after losing a horse.”
“Why both ends?” Young asked. “Seems like they would either want to stop the drive or chase it ahead and maybe scatter it.”
“May never know. Let’s see that these critters are moving all right and proper and keep a sharp eye out for those rustlers.”
As he worked ahead of the drive he realized the attack had been one he didn’t figure on. Five riders let somebody else round up the stays and head them down the trail. Then the outlaws would move in, take over the herd, and finish the drive. Only it didn’t work out that way. He saw no problems on the landscape ahead. It was eleven o’clock by the time he saw Curley driving the chuck wagon toward a green swatch a mile or so ahead where there must be a creek. That would be the noon feed bag.
Nothing else happened the rest of the morning and Curley had inch thick steaks ready for them when they watered the herd at the small stream and then angled the mostly longhorns out on the trail heading east. The men would eat in shifts and keep the animals walking east. They did with Sully taking his turn at the herd. The steaks were delicious with mashed potatoes, gravy, and some boiled carrots.
“Told you the food would be good,” Sully said to Wade Richards who only grinned and took another bite of the steak.
Soon the last man finished his dinner and the three joined the drive. So far so good, Sully thought as he watched the cattle moving along at a four mile pace. He turned and looked to the east for as far as he could see.
At first there was nothing but waving grass, some dry spots, and lots of sky. As he watched closer he found six small spots in the east that were growing larger. Had to be riders. It hit him suddenly. The bunch they had whipped was coming back with reinforcements.
He turned his mount back to the head of the drive.
“Curl the lead cows around in a circle,” he shouted to Wolf Barlow who was on the lead. “We got company coming. Get these critters in a tight a bunch as we can. We’ve got maybe half an hour.” Barlow nodded and turned the lead cows back the way they had just came. The rest of animals turned around that way.
Sully yelled at the men on the near side that they were bunching the cattle right here.
“Got company coming and my guess is they all have rifles. Get the herd as tight as you can, then put your mount down and get behind her with your rifle ready and about fifty rounds. I’m going out two hundred yards and see if I can discourage them when they get close enough.”
He left his horse with Kentuck on the other side. “If they get close enough but my horse down beside yours. Get your rifle warmed up.”
He ran then directly at the oncoming six riders. He figured they were still more than a half mile away. They wouldn’t be able to see him running. About three hundred yards from the herd he found a little swale four feet deep. He slid into it and peeked over the top. Yes. Good cover and great sight lines.
Sully waited. Every three or four minutes he peeked over the top of the sod. Still too far away. He would try to knock the lead rider off his mount with his first shot. After that they would scatter and probably try to surround him. Firing from the ground was ten times as accurate as shooting from a running horse. He had the advantage there. He figured if he put three of them down and dead or at least off their horses, the others would cut and ride away.
Not a chance they could surround him. The men with the herd were only 300 yards away. A good range for a rifle. They had to get within fifty feet of him to see down in the swale. They would be dead meat long before they got that close. This reminded him of a fight he had in the war, only there were three of them in this depression. They drove off twenty Northern cavalrymen after killing four of them.
He waited.
The next time he looked the riders were two hundred yards away and coming at a fast gallop. He sighted in on the lead man who he figured was the leader. Knock him off and the rest might just run.
He tracked him through the sight, had to lead him only a little at the almost ninety degree angle to the riders. When they hit the hundred yard mark, Sully refined his aim, moved the lead out a little more, and fired one round. He paused and watched. The rider wasn’t hit but his horse took a dive into the grass and dirt. The rider leaped off the stricken horse and rolled on the ground. The horse didn’t move. Head shot he guessed. He was tracking the man on the ground. He fired the Henry four times as fast as he could get a good aim. The last round must have hit him somewhere fatal. He lifted up on his knees. Threw his hands high in the air and slammed to the ground his face digging a small furrow in the dirt and rocks. Dead for sure.
The other five riders were up to the death scene. They circled the man for a moment, then somebody shouted and they continued forward. Before they got moving, Sully brought down another one. He flopped off his horse and it took off fast galloping to the east.
The four remaining riders came even with Sully but didn’t see him. He let them go by and a moment later heard rifle fire coming from where the herd waited. He fired again, knocking down another horse and sprawling the attacker in the dirt. He rolled twice, jumped up, and ran hard to the east.
One more horse went down from the rounds coming from the men with the herd. The last two horse riders turned, picked up one of the men without his horse, and rode hard to the east away from the target. Sully had a good shot, but he let the horses go. The survivors would
have something to talk about at a saloon tonight. When they were 400 yards away Sully fired three quick shots in the air. He wasn’t certain but he thought he saw the horse with two riders picked up speed as it galloped east.
Back at the herd Sully found some of the men slapping each other on the back. Wade Richards stood by himself shaking his head. He looked at Sully and there were tears in his eyes.
“I killed one of them. He came in my sights and I fired three times. He went down and never moved again. His horse ran off to the east. Never killed nobody before. Never even been in a fist fight. How am I supposed to feel, Mr. Sully?”
Sully stopped beside him and put one hand on his shoulder.
“Wade, it takes some getting used to. We can talk tonight. Right now we need to get this herd up the range about three miles to a small stream. They need the water. Can you help us get them up the trail that far?”
Chapter Fourteen
Sully checked all of the men. None of them had been hit by the raider’s rifle rounds.
“Okay, tenderfeet, let’s get this herd moving again. Nobody gets paid until we hit Fort Worth. Let’s move them out and stretch them out. Lots of daylight left.”
Ten minutes later the two lead cows were moving down the route Sully had picked for them. He didn’t expect any more trouble from the bunch of rustlers they shot up today but would there be others ready to take over their herd once they got close to Fort Worth? It was a minor worry. Right now he had to get down the trail to Gunsight and get his brand registered.
The next day they saw the wood smoke coming from a town to the north of them. Looked to be about five miles.
“I’ll go take a look,” Sully told the men. He moved Curley to the point to pick out the trail east and put Wade Richards driving the chuck wagon. Then Sully rode north.
He found the town and it was Gunsight. He saw the sheriff’s office in the middle of town with the man himself in the shade sitting on a chair just outside of his office. Sully asked if he could fill out the papers to register a brand.
The Devils Gunslinger Page 9
