by J. T. Edson
‘I’d say we should swing south-east and ’round from there,’ Waggles suggested. ‘That way, we’ll steer clear of the Indian Nations. Those red-sticks take a toll on cattle herds going through, which’s reasonable enough seeing’s it’s never over high, but I wouldn’t want to take the chance of letting them see buffalo on the hoof.’
‘A most valid point, sir,’ Johnson admitted, but he had no wish to continue discussing the possible reaction of Indians to the sight of so many creatures which had once meant a free-ranging way of life to them. ‘Even should the route you select take longer than going in a straight line, it will allow my young men more time to acquire the skills they will need to deal with the herd after we part company from you. ’
‘The time won’t be wasted,’ Stone agreed, deciding against repeating his already refused suggestion that Johnny Raybold at least should stay with the Easterners during the last stage of the journey. ‘We’ll swing around into North Texas along the trail Colonel Goodnight blazed rather than let himself be forced into paying Uncle Dick Wootten’s head tax toll for going through Raton Pass.’ [6]
‘Isn’t Raton Pass in New Mexico?’ the New Englander inquired.
‘It is, unless some Yankee carpetbagger’s grabbed it off and took it home with him?’ the trail boss confirmed. ‘And so’s the trail we’ll be following. We’re in Eastern Colorado right now. It isn’t going to call for too big a swing to go through North-Eastern New Mexico and miss the Indian Nations.’
‘Top of which,’ the segundo supported. ‘The trail’s not likely to be having herds of cattle on it while we’re going through, so we’ll find decent water and grazing.’
‘No offense was intended by my question, gentlemen,’ Johnson asserted. ‘You’re the experts upon all such matters and I’m entirely in your hands. That way, I’m sure I can escape the consequences if anything goes wrong by pleading insanity.’
‘Hot damn if you’re not starting to think like a Texan!’ Waggles grinned.
‘Good heavens, so I am!’ the new Englander replied, also smiling as he concluded his query had not been taken the wrong way by either the trail boss or the segundo. ‘I really must guard against it becoming permanent.’
‘Most folks would give their eyeteeth and more to have it happen to them,’ Stone assured Johnson, so soberly he might have been supplying information of the greatest importance. Then he glanced around and an urgent note came into his drawl. ‘I know the look we’re getting from the cooks. It means, “Why the hell don’t you three get finished feeding like everybody else, so’s we can do our chores ready for moving out”.’
‘Then, in the light of the last month’s experience of such matters, I would suggest we eat up,’ the New Englander replied and started to carry out his suggestion.
‘All right, fellers!’ Stone called, after having finished his breakfast and deposited his utensils in the pot of hot water provided for washing them. ‘Time’s come for you- all to start earning your pay. Load up and saddle up. We’re heading for the herd!’
Twelve – Head ’em Up, Move ’em Out!
‘That’s the bunch Johnny picked out, Mr. Johnson, happen it’s all right with you,’ Stone Hart announced, having halted his large blaze faced bay gelding so that he and the New Englander by his side could just see over the rim of the slope they had been ascending and into the valley below. ‘There’ll be around fifteen hundred head, at a guess, with about the right mixture of mature bulls, momma cows and young stock to give you the breeding herd you’ll need. I know it’s more than you reckoned on setting up with, but we’re likely to lose some along the way.’
‘I hear that’s even been known to happen with cattle on the trail,’ Walter Johnson replied, his voice holding its usual mixture of friendly understanding. He was controlling, without undue difficulty, the spirited dun horse which had been allocated to him from the Wedge’s remuda. Despite preferring to restrict his illicit activities to Eastern cities where public transport was available, he had also earned some of his ill-gotten gains in rural areas where these forms of travel were less available as a means of taking flight should things go wrong. He had therefore considered it advisable to become a competent rider. Since leaving Mulrooney, he had grown accustomed to sitting the low horned, double girthed Texas range saddle provided with his mount. In fact, he soon concluded it was far more comfortable than any Eastern rig would have been if used for several hours a day. ‘And, with the kind of herd you’ll be handling this time, there will be little chance of collecting replacements to help you achieve the ambition of every trail boss.’
‘And what ambition would that be?’
‘According to what I’ve heard, every trail boss leaving Texas with a herd expects to lose a few head and feed beef to his crew along the way, but still hopes to arrive at the shipping pens with at least as many as when he set out.’
‘You’ve heard the living truth,’ Stone confirmed, showing no surprise as he had become used to the New Englander displaying knowledge of Western matters. ‘And that’s what we all try to do, even though we don’t always make it. Only this time, like you say, we’re not likely to find buffalo along the trail to make up for any we lose.’
On receiving the order to get ready for moving out, the Wedge hands and Easterners, to whom instructions on the subject had already been given, had wasted no time. Those who had not already done so quickly finished eating and returned the dishes to be washed by Kevin Roddy and Francis Morrell. Then all, as was expected of them, wrapped and placed their bed rolls in the appropriate wagons. Collecting horses from the remuda driven into an extemporized rope corral, they had set off with the trail boss and Johnson leaving the cooks and two reluctant ‘louses’ to complete breaking camp.
Halting at a sufficient distance to avoid disturbing and perhaps putting the herd of buffalo to flight, Stone had given the men their final instructions. They had already been paired off, but needed to be allocated duties resulting from the information he had acquired while carrying out his reconnaissance earlier in the day. Using a piece of barren ground, he had drawn a rough map of the area and told each team of a Texan and an Easterner where to position themselves around the animals. Repeating his warning that everybody must remain in concealment until receiving his signal to commence, he had concluded by indicating the point from which it would be given.
Having accompanied the trail boss to their designated position, Johnson had been impressed by the thoroughness with which the arrangements for commencing the drive were made. While forcing himself to carry on the seemingly light-hearted conversation, holding his voice to as low a level as that of his companion, despite there being something over a quarter of a mile separating them from their intended quarry, he was studying with great interest the mass of distinctly shaped creatures scattered in front of them.
It was not the first time that the new Englander had seen specimens of the animal so essential to the success of the scheme upon which he was engaged. Since a zoological gardens had been established at Philadelphia in 1859, first Cincinnati and then other Eastern cities had embarked upon similar ventures. Being easy to obtain and keep in captivity, although breeding rarely occurred in such confined conditions, almost all had included buffalo to supplement their more exotic exhibits. He had not visited the ‘zoos’, as they were already being called, because of an interest in the animals on display. Experience had taught him that anywhere which attracted people in large numbers also provided opportunities, of making acquaintances who became victims of his illicit activities.
Gazing into the valley and contemplating his future plans, Johnson began to experience a sensation close to awe. Even at the distance separating them, the buffalo struck him as being much larger than those he had seen through the bars of a cage in a zoological gardens from a much closer range.
‘Egad, sir!’ the New Englander breathed with, for once, a suggestion of his true feelings tingeing his voice. ‘Having been granted my first view of them en masse and in their natur
al element, I trust that you will take no offense when I say, with all due respect for your knowledge and considerable experience in such matters, that I find it hard to believe even you and your men can hope to compel so many enormous creatures to go where we want them taken!’
‘It wouldn’t be just hard,’ the trail boss corrected. Even granted you’ve got us Texans trying to do it, it’d be impossible.’
‘Impossible!’ Johnson ejaculated, snapping his attention from the buffalo to the badly scarred face of the man by his side. What he had just heard was at odds with the arrangements for handling the herd which had been made. His long involvement in various types of confidence tricks led him to wonder if he was being set up for a demand to have the payment for the delivery increased. ‘Are you telling me it isn’t possible to move them after all?’
‘Not exactly,’ Stone replied soothingly, realizing his comment had been misinterpreted, in spite of his reference to Texans as a means of relieving the tension he had sensed was afflicting the New Englander, ‘But leave us not forget what I’ve been warning you ever since we first met.’
‘And that is, sir?’ Johnson inquired, having been impressed by the competence of the trail boss and the confidence shown by the other members of the Wedge crew.
‘I can’t lay claim to having any knowledge and experience, considerable or otherwise, about handling buffalo on the trail. Nor can any other white man, comes down to a real sharp point. But, surely as night follows day, there’s one thing I do know for certain about them.’
‘And what might that be, sir?’
‘There’s no way we, or anybody else for that matter, can compel those buffalo down there to do anything at all, except by stampeding them which isn’t what we need,’ Stone warned. ‘So, going by what the Ysabel Kid was able to tell me about them and their ways—and that was only learned by word of mouth from his Comanche kinfolks—all we can do is pray for the Good lord to look kindly on us for being loco enough to even try, then treat them like they was a bunch of brush popping ladinos fresh brought in on a roundup and needing to be trailed.’
‘Ladinos!’ Johnson queried, the word being new to him.
‘That’s what us Texans call longhorns which have been born and grown up wild in the thorny bush country,’ the trail boss explained, realizing this was the first discussion he and his companion had had about how he intended to deal with the buffalo. ‘Any time you find you’ve got a bunch of them gathered to be taken on the trail, you know all you can do is try to persuade them to move whichever way you want them headed because figuring on compelling them isn’t a lick of use.’
‘I see what you’re driving at, if you’ll excuse what must have sounded like a terrible pun,’ Johnson declared, concluding his fears of an ulterior motive were groundless. He made his next words more of a statement than a question. ‘And, in the course of your career, you have driven herds of these ladinos?’
‘I reckon I’d be close to justified was I to say “yes” to that,’ Stone answered. ‘Fact being, with the small spreads who mostly need to have us take their herds, I’d say Wedge has handled more ladinos than stock that’d been held and winter fed on the home range. But they’re still just cattle, no matter how wild and uncurried they’ve lived in the thorny breaks. What we’ve got to find out is whether buffalo, which are natural’ born and raised wild critters from back when, can be persuaded, not compelled, to act about the same as ladinos do.’
‘And you think they can be?’
‘I wouldn’t have taken your money and agreed to give it a whirl if I didn’t. It isn’t going to be easy, that’s for sure, but I never could resist a challenge.’
‘By gad, sir, you’re a man after my own heart!’ Johnson stated, all his misgiving having gone and the respect he had acquired for the badly scarred Texan restored. Taking out and glancing at his pocket-watch, he sucked in a deep breath. The suggestion of drama which came into his voice was genuine as he went on, ‘And now, sir, the moment is at hand for us to embark upon our project!’
‘That it is,’ Stone confirmed, a similar tone permeating his generally unaffected drawl. ‘And we’ll right soon know whether it can be done. At least, we’re going to find out whether we can even get them started moving the way we want them to go.’
‘Then I trust, sir, you will believe me when I say it is not merely a matter of my personal monetary considerations which leads me to say I wish us every success in our venture,’ Johnson requested, and still the sincerity of his demeanor was not assumed. ‘And that, no matter how it turns out, nobody else could have done better in my opinion.’
‘Gracias," the trail boss responded, looking a trifle embarrassed at the praise. Wanting to lighten the seriousness of the conversation, he continued, ‘I know it’s your herd, but you can’t shout, “Head ’em up, move ’em out!” like they were longhorns. So, happen you don’t mind taking second best, give Waggles the wave ’round to start them.’
‘No, sir!’ Johnson refused, politely yet definitely, but showing he was not ungrateful for the offer. ‘While I am pleased to have been accorded the opportunity, that honor must go to you.’
Although Stone had set several trail drives into motion since having elected to earn his living in such a fashion, he hesitated for a moment before doing as the New Englander suggested. Never, not even on the first occasion he had given the by now traditional order to, ‘Head ’em up, move ’em out!’ had he experienced such a strong sense of occasion. He realized that the party he was currently leading were about to engage upon something unique. It might never again be attempted. Even if it should be, in all probability the herd involved would be smaller than the one beyond the rim.
It was upon the acquired facts, imparted to the Ysabel Kid by his Comanche grandfather, that the tactics to be employed on the drive were based. Having formulated his plans, based upon considerable experience at handling ladinos in particular whilst moving them from their home range to Kansas, Stone was gambling on the buffalo behaving in a similar manner. Nothing showed on his scarred features as he waved his Stetson in a circular motion at arm’s length above his head, but he was j ust as eager as the man at his side to discover whether the instructions he had given would produce the desired effect.
‘Looks like funning time’s over and we’ve got to start earning our pay, amigo,’ Waggles Harrison remarked, speaking just a trifle quicker than usual, after having acknowledged the visual signal given by the trail boss. While making the pronouncement, he took noticeably more care to ensure he replaced his Stetson at the correct “jack-deuce” angle over his right eye. His tone and actions indicated how impressed he was by what they were about to do. Despite having accompanied Stone Hart on all the conventional trail drives made by the Wedge, his outward appearance of being at ease notwithstanding, he was as eager as the man he addressed to learn whether their latest endeavor was possible. ‘Let’s go get her done’ ’
‘I thought you were never going to ask!’ Geoffrey Crayne replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as he assumed the Texan to be and almost, but not quite, succeeding. ‘Oh well, I suppose it had to come sometime!’
‘My ole pappy allus told me that ‘most everything does, happen you wait long enough,’ the segundo asserted, nudging the ribs of his blue roan gelding gently with the Kelly spurs on his boots. ‘Now just you take it slow and easy, you fool crowbait. Those critters down there aren’t no Texas longhorns’s’ve been raised to have right and proper respect for hoss-flesh. Happen you go crowding them, you’re like’ to get one of their sharp lil horns rammed up your favorite butt.’
‘Which I don’t think would be a good thing to happen,’ the Bostonian breathed, having unknowingly duplicated the sentiments of Walter Johnson over how much more dangerous buffalo appeared in the wild. ‘Not unless you’re a liber-radical soft-shell who reckons having things stuck up your butt is a perfect way to spend an evening.’
While making the statement, striving to keep his emotions and mount equally in check, f
inding it easier to do so where the latter was concerned, Crayne accompanied Waggles from their place of concealment. Gazing beyond the still unsuspecting buffalo, he watched Johnny Raybold and an Easterner appearing in just as leisurely seeming fashion almost opposite their position. Continuing his observation as he rode forward with the segundo, he saw other parts of riders leaving hiding places at intervals spreading westwards on both sides of the herd. All were coming into view without haste, ready to take whatever kind of action their trail boss had warned might be required. From what they had been told, in all probability this would not be the same as would apply if they were dealing with even freshly caught ladinos and they had all received suggestions for how best to respond in the different circumstances.
To the uninitiated observer, the massive creatures grazing peacefully in the valley gave the impression of being a single herd under the control of one leader. Discussing their habits with the Ysabel Kid in Mulrooney, Stone and Waggles had concluded these could be helpful to the proposed transfer. The structure of such a gathering was much the same as would be the case with the only semi domesticated and free ranging longhorn cattle which the Wedge crew were accustomed to handling. There was, however, a major and most vital difference to be taken into account. Buffalo were completely wild animals and lacked the inborn memories of association with man which even the wildest ladino never entirely lost or overcame. Regardless of this, the trail boss and his segundo had decided the very nature of their way of life could make them susceptible to persuasion.
As was the case with most sub-species of the family, Bovidae—which included domesticated cattle and their wild progenitors—buffalo were gregarious by nature. Under the impulsion of instincts generations old, whether travelling or pausing to take advantage of good grazing in a locality, they always preferred to remain in close proximity to one another. The majority of every herd comprised of mature bulls, each with whatever cows he had been able to acquire, and the immature offspring he had sired by them. Also present, driven from their respective families on approaching sexual maturity, were numerous younger males. Having as yet failed to gather females of their own, in fact some never would, they continued to mingle with the herd in ‘bachelor’ parties. While the largest and strongest bulls tended to take the lead on the move, there was no single leader as such. Instead, if a dominant male should decide to move away with his family, others would follow until the whole gathering joined the exodus.
