“Go about a mile farther, set up your supper camp there,” Cade said.
“Dinner,” Arabella corrected.
“Dinner,” Cade said with a smile. Then, bending down from the saddle, he gave Arabella a kiss before he re-crossed the river and rode back to meet up with the herd.
15
When Cade rejoined the herd, they were less than a mile from the river.
“How does it look?” Jeter asked. “If you remember last year the river had overflowed its banks, and we had to camp on this side for nearly a week.”
“It doesn’t look like it’s going to cause us a problem,” Cade replied.
“Good, we’ve had an easy start,” Jeter said. “Goliath was a good choice for the lead bull; we’ve only had one little stampede that was easy to get under control, the men are happy and well fed—it would be great if we could go all the way to Abilene with nothing worse happenin’.”
“Jeter, you know it’s not going to be like that,” Cade said. “I’ll go over with the first group, you stay on this side of the river ‘till we have them all across.”
A few minutes later the herd approached the river and Goliath, hesitant to go into the water, stopped. Cade rode up to him and with prodding and urging, finally got him to commit himself. Once he was in the water and realized that there was no real danger, he hurried on across, with the rest of the herd coming along behind, each cow in his own, self-proscribed position.
As the herd continued across, there were periodic breaks so that, sometimes the cattle refused to enter the water, even though the cows ahead had done so. At such times the cowboys remaining on the east bank of the river would ride alongside the string, yelling, whistling, and waving their hats to keep them moving. There was a constant churning of the water as cattle and horses crossed the stream.
With all but about five or six hundred cattle across, only Jeter, Jeremiah Mudd, Muley Morris, GW Jones, and Troy Hastings, remained on the east side of the river. Cade had crossed the river, but he was just on the other side, observing the cattle as they exited the water.
Jeremiah Mudd who was on the right flank of the crossing herd, turned in his saddle to look toward a tree line that was on his side of the river, but about thirty yards north. He started toward it.
Jeter and the others didn’t notice Mudd’s departure, but Cade did, and he wondered what Mudd had seen. Then Mudd did a strange thing. He removed his hat, and waved it toward the trees.
Cade didn’t know what that was about, but he didn’t like the looks of it. Soon his concern was validated when he saw five mounted men suddenly burst from the trees. All five had pistols in their hands, and Cade worried for Mudd, until he saw that Mudd had joined them!
“Jeter!” Cade shouted, but because of the bawling cattle moving into the river, Cade’s shout was unheard.
The five rustlers, six counting Mudd, began firing. Shooting their pistols was bad enough, in that it caused the cattle that had not yet crossed the river to turn and began running. Muley Morris, who was facing the charge, went down under the gunfire. That left only Jeter and the two boys to face the charging rustlers; three drovers who were caught totally unaware, to deal with six who had the advantage of shock and surprise.
Cade started to pull his pistol, but decided against it, choosing instead to snake his Henry from the saddle holster. Still on the opposite side of the river, Cade lifted one leg and hooked it around the saddle horn to give himself a stable platform. His first shot brought down Mudd, and jacking another round into the rifle he fired a second time, bringing down another man.
By now, Jeter was aware of what was going on, and he also began shooting, and a third and fourth man went down. The two remaining would-be rustlers, realizing now that they were alone, turned and galloped away. Cade had a thought about giving chase, but more than five hundred cows had been startled into a stampede and only he, Jeter, and the two youngest drovers were in position to go after them.
Cade crossed the river, then galloped after Jeter and the running cows. He passed the two young boys who were also in pursuit.
“Mr. McCall, what do we do?” Hastings shouted at him.
“We have to get in front of them!” Cade called back. “Follow me and do what I do!”
Cade knew from experience that there was really no way to stop a herd at full gallop. The only way to control them was to turn them.
He, Jeter, Troy, and GW reached the front of the stampeding cows, then began the effort to turn them. Waving hats, whooping and hollering finally had its effect, and gradually the front of this column began to react to their efforts. The galloping cattle were turned back on themselves.
This started the cattle into a large circle of bellowing cows, surrounded by a cloud of choking dust that hung in the air. This milling was kept up until finally the cattle, realizing that they weren’t actually going anywhere, quit from exhaustion. Now, no longer running, they shuffled about slowly until Cade and the others were able to move them back into a manageable body. That established, they were able to bring the herd back the three quarters of a mile their mad dash had covered, until they were at the ford where the others had crossed.
When they got back, Cade saw that Finley and Campbell had come back across the river, and, while waiting, had also examined the five bodies that were scattered about.
“Rustlers?” Finley asked.
“Yeah. They killed Morris,” Cade said
“Mudd too,” Finley said.
“They didn’t kill Mudd. I did,” Cade said.
“You did?”
“If he hadn’t killed him, I would have,” Jeter said. “That son of a bitch was with the rustlers.”
“He’s probably the one who set the whole thing up,” Cade said.
“Mr, McCall, you want me ‘n Troy to go ahead ‘n push the cows on across?” Jones asked.
“Yes, go ahead.” Cade smiled. "You boys did a good job in stopping the stampede."
“What the hell happened?” Toombs asked. “I thought we had it all set up.”
“Yeah, I did too,” Kilgore replied. “We should ‘a never trusted Mudd. Did you see how he come out there ‘n started wavin’ his hat at us?”
“Yeah, I seen that. I swear, I thought the son of a bitch had turned on us,” Toombs said.
“Well, he same as did,” Kilgore said. “Hell, he couldn’t of done no worse if he had started yellin’, ‘there they are’.”
“What do we do now?”
“I’m gettin’ out of here. I don’t know if they seen me close enough to know who I was or not, but I don’t plan on stayin’ around here no longer,” Kilgore said.
“Where you goin’?”
“Anywhere but here."
“I’m goin’ with you.”
When they reached Gonzales, Cade had the herd held just outside of town, while he and Jeter took the bodies into town. Seeing two men leading five horses with bodies draped across the saddles, was enough to arouse the curiosity in all who saw them riding down the street. They rode straight to the sheriff's office.
"Who you got there?" Sheriff Gibson asked.
"Two of them I can identify for you...this one is Muley Morris, a good man, who was riding with our company. This is Jeremiah Mudd. He was riding with us too, but turns out he betrayed us, and threw in with the rustlers."
"The other three are the rustlers, I take it?" Sheriff Gibson asked.
"They are three of the rustlers, but that’s not all of them."
“How many head did they steal?” the sheriff asked. “And what were the brands?”
“They didn’t get any of them; we managed to stop them in time,” Cade said.
"You plan to bury your two men here?"
"Yes, and I'll pay the expenses, for both of them. As far as these three," Cade nodded toward the rustlers, "I don't care what you do with them. You can throw 'em in the hog lot as far as I'm concerned."
"You'll find the undertaker down at the end of the street. Wayne Dowdy’s the name.
You can make arrangement for your two men, tell 'im the county’ll pay for the other three."
“All right,” Cade said.
With their initial morbid curiosity satisfied, most of the townspeople stood back and made no effort to interfere as Cade took the bodies down to the mortuary.
“This is Muley Morris,” Cade said, identifying his rider to the undertaker.
“Surely he has more of a name than Muley.”
“If he did, none of my men ever heard it. I think Muley will be just fine to put on his marker. And I’d like your best marker for him.”
“Very good sir. And the other gentlemen?”
“This one is Jeremiah Mudd. I don’t know any of the other three, but I can tell you right now, the sons of bitches aren’t gentlemen. The sheriff said the county would bury them. I’ll pay for Mudd.”
“And what kind of headstone would you like for Mr. Mudd?”
“A pine board with his name on it is good enough.”
“Poor Mr. Morris,” Arabella said that evening as a sense of melancholy shrouded the evening meal. “He was such a nice man.”
“Oui, but not Monsieur Mudd,” Maggie added. “He didn’t have . . . ,” she stopped in mid-sentence and looked at Arabella for a translation. “Personnalité agréable.”
“Agreeable personality,” Arabella said.
“Oui. And I did not like the way he looked at us,” Maggie said.
“Wait a minute,” Cade said, “are you saying he bothered you? Arabella, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Cade, men have stared at me and been forward around me for my entire life. I can’t suddenly come to you to handle situations I’ve dealt with since I was thirteen years old.”
Cade looked at her for a moment, then his expression grew serious. “I guess you have at that.”
The problems with rustlers seemed to be behind them, as the herd proceeded north. They found adequate water and good grazing and because those who lived along the trail were used to seeing cattle drives, a brisk business had arisen between the farmers and cattlemen. The farmers provided fresh pork, chickens, ducks, eggs, milk, butter, cheese, fresh vegetables and fruit to supplement the meals Arabella and Maggie were cooking. Sometimes the farmers wanted cash, but often they were willing to trade for a steer.
Waco, Texas:
When Amon Kilgore and Fred Toombs came over the rise, they saw cattle spread out before them. The herd had stopped for noon.
“Reckon they’ll feed us?” Toombs asked.
“We’ll soon find out,” Kilgore said as he and Toombs rode around the herd, and approached the chuck wagon. There were three men squatting around the fire, eating their lunch. Not one of the three looked up. There were two more men standing by the drop down table at the back of the wagon. One had white hair and a white beard. He was wearing an apron that might have been white at one time, but now it was stained with the residue of a hundred or more cooked meals. The other man, small and wiry looking, was drinking coffee and he held an unerring stare at Kilgore and Toombs as they approached. He was wearing black trousers, a black shirt, and a low-crown black hat encircled with a silver band.
“Wantin’ food?” the smaller man asked.
“Nothin’ I’m not willin’ to pay for,” Kilgore replied.
The man nodded. “Good answer. Give ‘em somethin’ to eat, Squirrel.”
“Pick up a plate,” the cook said, pointing to a couple of tin plates.
“You the trail boss?” Kilgore asked the man in black.
“I am. Frazier’s the name.”
“Mr. Frazier, I couldn’t help but notice as we was ridin’ up, that you seem a little short-handed.”
“I had two men that upped ‘n left on me,” Frazier said. “You two wouldn’t be applyin’ for a job, would you?”
“As a matter of fact, we are.”
“You ever drove cattle before?”
“My name’s Amon Kilgore,” Kilgore replied, resolutely. “For the last two years I’ve been contractin’ to take cows up to Kansas. Onliest thing is, they was so many cows kilt in the hurricane down in my neck of the woods, that there warn’t but one herd a’ goin’ up this year.”
“You was contractin’ huh? ‘N you rode as trail boss?”
“That I did.”
“Yeah, well, here’s the thing, Kilgore. This here herd is the Circle JMT, ‘n I’m takin’ it to Abilene for Mr. J. M. Truax, down San Antonio way. ‘N it’s already got a trail boss, ‘n that trail boss is me, Silvanus O. Frazier. You two men would be nothin’ but drovers, ridin’ nighthawk ‘n ridin’ drag when your time come.”
“You changin’ out on drag? Most drives just put the newest ones on drag.”
“See, that’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Frazier said. “Already you’re questionin’ me.”
Kilgore held his hands up, palms out. “No, no, I ain’t questionin’ you none at all. You’re the trail boss, ‘n I’m fine with that.”
“All right. Soon as you eat, you can turn them two horses into the wrangler ‘n pick out a couple new ones for yourselves. Looks to me like them horses has been rode pretty hard.”
16
Twenty-one days after departing the LP Ranch the combined herd reached Ft. Worth. Leaving Boo Rollins in charge of the herd, Cade, Jeter, Arabella, and Maggie rode into town to replenish the supplies for the chuck wagon.
“We’ve come this far, and the men have worked so hard, I’m going to make a French Apple Tart,” Maggie declared.
Jeter laughed.
“Why do you laugh? Do you think I should not do so?” Maggie asked.
“No, no, nothing like that,” Jeter said, holding up his hands. “I was just laughing because in the whole history of cattle drives, I’ll just bet nobody has ever made a French Apple Tart in a chuck wagon.”
“Well then it will be a special treat,” Arabella said as she and Maggie entered the Boaz and Ellis Mercantile.
While the women were busy, Cade and Jeter visited the sheriff.
“What can I do for you boys?” the sheriff asked.
“Tomorrow morning, we’ll be bringing a herd through,” Cade said. “We’ll stay clear of the square if we can, but I just wanted to let you know.”
“How many head?”
“Just over twenty-two hundred,” Jeter said.
“Good and trail broke are they?”
“They’ve been on the trail for three weeks now; it’s a pretty stable herd.”
“What time you want to move ‘em through?”
“I thought just before dawn breaks would be a pretty good time. It’ll take a while to cross the Trinity River.”
“Good idea. All right, either I, or my deputy will meet you down by the bluff. I expect you’re on the prairie just south of town?”
“That’s right,” Cade said.
“You’d better put on a double watch down there,” the sheriff said. “We’ve had some Indian trouble lately.”
“We’ll do it, and thanks for the information.”
That evening, the chuck wagon was taken across the river and it was driven a little beyond Fort Worth. Cade intended to spend the night with the women, and he was lying under the wagon with his hands folded behind his head. Night had fallen, but because Arabella and Maggie were getting ready for the special treat they were making for the men, the two women had not yet come to bed. Cade was listening as they laughed and chatted in French while rolling out dough for the apple tarts. He would have to ask them if what they were talking about was so secret from him that they had to speak in French. He would be teasing of course; he liked the way the language rolled off their tongues, soft, and entrancing.
Then the seductive dialogue was interrupted by the jarring intrusion of a man’s harsh voice. It wasn’t a voice Cade recognized.
“What’d I tell you, Seth? Didn’t I tell you I seen two women with this here chuck wagon?”
“Yeah,” the other voice said. “But you didn’t tell me they was both as
purty as these two is.”
Cade raised up, and peered through a crack in the canvas skirt that dropped down from the wagon bed. He saw two men, their eyes shining in the firelight, the lecherous gleam unmistakable.
“What can I do for you two gentlemen?” Arabella asked.
With pistol in hand, Cade crawled out from under the wagon on the opposite side from where the two men had confronted Arabella and Maggie.
“Damn, Carney, listen to her talk,” Seth said. “She don’t talk like no woman I’ve ever known.”
“Isn’t it a little late for you two men to be out?” Maggie asked.
By now Cade could see the faces of the two men as they moved closer to the fire. He remained just on the other side of the wagon, watching, but not yet showing himself.
“What me ‘n this here fella want to know is, how come it is that you two women is cookin’ for a cattle drive? Ought ‘n there to be a man doin’ this job?”
“Are you saying that you don’t think women can cook?” Arabella asked.
“Nah, I ain’t sayin’ that,” Seth said. “But seems to me like a couple o’ purty women like you could make a lot more money if you’d just . . . Damn, Carney, I know why these two women is along! Hell, it’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
“What? What you talkin’ about?” Carney asked.
“They’re not a cookin’, they’re a’ whorin’,” Seth said. “Why, I bet these two has spread their legs for ever’ man in the outfit.”
“Yeah,” Carney said. “That’s it, ain’t it, ladies? What I want to know is, if you’re ready for some real men, on account of me ‘n Seth here might like to have us a little fun.”
The Western Adventures of Cade McCall Box Set Page 33