Hunger on the Chisholm Trail

by M Ennenbach

She gave a quizzical glance at Mikhail who only shrugged. “You strike me as an interesting man, Mr. Beck. Possibly dangerous, as well.”

  “Part of my charm, I suspect.”

  “Karl will be joining my wife and I for dinner tomorrow. He is in charge of bringing the whiskey. Make sure he buys a bottle of the good stuff, won’t you?”

  “Aye. The special reserves.”

  “You know you’re more than welcome to join us as well. Just a quiet night of good food and conversation. Jia-Li would love to have a lady to converse with.”

  Tracey eyed Karl up and down. “I just might. The store is as ready as it is going to be for the Drive. The first of many if we are lucky.”

  “Well then, Karl will be back tomorrow for the whiskey and he can escort you to dinner. The street can be filled with danger and all that.”

  She smiled and nodded. “How refreshing to have a gentleman escort me through town. You lads have a good day. And I will see you tomorrow, Mr. Beck.”

  Karl smiled back and bowed slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her eyes lingered on them long after they had left her store. A wistful smile sat upon her lips for a few moments only to be replaced with a dour expression. She shook her head and went behind the counter and gave a careful look outside. Then she removed a tall green bottle and inserted a glass straw. She covered the end with her finger and pulled it out, now nearly full, and let it drain into the glass of water she kept by her register. She slowly stirred it with the glass straw, still looking outside with that same expression stuck upon her lovely if gaunt face. She took a long drink of the concoction and soon, a dream peace flowed across her. “I will have to find an excuse to not go tomorrow,” she slightly slurred into the empty store.

  Karl and Mikhail made their round from one end of the street to the other. They stopped in and said hello to the townsfolk that readied themselves for the cattle drive. Cody, the local sawbones, busied himself by soaking his implements in carbolic acid.

  “It’s the latest thing,” he proudly announced. “Dr. Lister in Scotland has published a new study on the affect of sterilizing and how it has led to fewer infections.”

  Mikhail nodded, apparently having heard this speech countless times before. But Karl was intrigued. “So you spray them with the acid to kill the infection carrying germs?”

  Cody nodded excitedly. “It will be all the rage soon enough. Disinfecting the surgical tools will save countless lives. He also recommends washing your hands quite often to prevent the introduction of new infection. Revolutionary! It’s only been six years since his study was released, but the lives saved have already been countless.”

  Karl was about to ask more when a commotion outside got his attention.

  “Godless Savages! Each and every last one of you!”

  He and Mikhail hurried out to see two Natives being confronted by an angry man dressed in all black. “Hasse Ola and River Dixon, the tax collectors for the tribes. The man in black is the preacher, Josiah Long. We better stop this before it escalates,” Mikhail muttered.

  The preacher was red faced and kicking dirt at the two tall Natives. “Filthy red skinned bastards! If’n you won’t accept the word of Lord and Savior, the fires of eternal damnation await your immortal souls!”

  The younger of the two, Hasse Ola, stood calmly watching Josiah. River, on the other hand, looked like a storm cloud about to burst. “My people have seen the love and saving of your Lord. His grace pushed my people off of our sacred lands. Now this dust bowl is our legacy until he decides to push again. I will remind you, you are guests on our land, preacher. It is by our kindness you are allowed to stay.”

  “And the collection you make off of every head of cattle that comes through. Don’t act as if you and your people are doing us a kindness!” Josiah spat the words into the dry air.

  “What seems to be the problem out here, Josiah?” Mikhail interjected himself.

  Josiah turned and the red dimmed a little. “I am trying to save the souls of these filthy heathens, sheriff. That is all. Doing my duty as a man of God.”

  Mikhail snorted. “And what were you preaching last night at Kenzie’s? Was that the gospel of drinking too much and consorting with whores?”

  “I did no such thing. I may have enjoyed a glass or two of brandy while extoling the virtues of God. But that is no sin, I assure you. And I may have had a private discussion with Tara on the matters of sin. As the Lord himself saw fit to charge me to do.”

  “Leave River and Hasse Ola alone. He is right. We are here at their discretion.”

  “But . . . ”

  “I am not asking, Josiah.”

  Josiah gave an angry glare at the two Natives before stomping off toward the bar. River gave Mikhail a friendly nod. “Much appreciated, Sheriff. Cattle should be here in a few days. Much celebration and excitement, I am sure.”

  Mikhail smiled back. “My last one in Duncan. I expect my replacement any day now. River, Hasse, allow me to introduce you to Karl Beck. Karl is a visitor resting up after a long trip.”

  Hasse Ola gave Karl a steady look and then signed something to River who nodded. Karl watched them carefully, trying to decipher the signals. “A pleasure to meet you both.”

  River looked to Hasse Ola who gestured more. “Hasse Ola says you have strong medicine. The taint of great dark has been washed away by your hands. It is an honor to meet you, Karl Beck.”

  Karl looked surprised. “The tribal hand talk, I’ve heard of it but never witnessed it myself. The honor is all mine.”

  River looked pleased. “Feel free to come by our toll collection office anytime. We can discuss your medicine in detail.”

  “I would be honored. I have plenty of questions for you both, if you’d be willing to answer them. It isn’t often a Cherokee and a Muscogee—if I’m not mistaken—work together. At least not from what I have read.”

  Hasse Ole signaled more and River watched. “He is impressed a white man can tell our tribes apart. To most, we are one group of savages.”

  Karl smiled. “Most white men are idiots, as near as I can tell.”

  River laughed. “It seems to be an affliction all men are susceptible to.”

  Mikhail clapped his hand as he laughed. “It warms the heart to see two Savages and a man that consorts with demons hitting it off right away. It truly does.”

  Hasse Ola signaled and River laughed and shook his head. “He says it is funny that two pale faces can nearly hold a civilized conversation. The elders will tell of this in the sweat lodge for years to come.”

  Karl looked at them both deadpan. “I’m still amazed someone married this lout. And now I see he is friendly with the Natives. No one will believe it back East either.”

  The four men, so different, laughed and joked as the sun baked down relentlessly above them. A small mouse sat in the shade by the Cody’s small office and watched them curiously. It held a seed to its mouth and gnawed contentedly. For a moment, everything was fine in Duncan. Peace seemed to ebb across the nearly empty street with the faint hot breeze that blew up from the South. The mouse and the men sat unconcerned as the world rolled on into the afternoon. That was when the rattlesnake opened its impossibly wide mouth and lashed out. Its fangs piercing the mouse along its side, it fell over as the venom coursed through, convulsing yet still conscious enough to feel pain. The snake didn’t care for peace. It hungered and the mouse was a perfect snack. The men parted with smiles and hands raised in waves. The snake coiled happily and ate the mouse whole. The West could be beautiful, as long as the untamed was respected.

  6

  Chisholm Trail

  “What’s the goddamned point in riding ahead of the drive if you ain’t gonna watch for snakes on the trail?” James yelled for the third time in as many minutes.

  Everyone was soaked with sweat and covered with dust from the stampede. Chad stood next to his horse staring at the ground in silence.

  “We lost fifteen steers! Fifteen! That’s coming out of y
our share, cause I’ll be damned if I’m taking a loss because you couldn’t do the one thing you were brought along to do!”

  The day had started off well. Even down three bodies they had managed to keep everything moving slowly the day before. But today had been a series of bad luck. A snake lashed out and bit one of the cattle and it had bellowed in pain and surprise. The rest had taken the call of danger to heart and scattered in three directions. The skeleton crew managed to wrangle most of them in and get them to calm again. But fifteen had charged blindly across the arid landscape. Too close to the deep ravine, the force of fifteen tons stomping had proven too much for the ground. In a matter of seconds, it gave way. The cattle had fallen the fifty or so feet down to hit the bottom with jarring thuds that broke bones and necks. James had taken it upon himself to shoot each of the poor creatures that lay baying in agony.

  Each shot was the grand total of the trip lowering by four dollars. Sixty dollars was nothing in comparison to the roughly twenty-nine hundred heads they still had, but it was a black mark on his leadership. One that would be remembered when the next cattle drive was ready. That and the loss of a man—while not uncommon—was enough to give him the sinking suspicion this would be his last drive as team leader.

  He didn’t even know if he cared as much as his screaming at Chad dictated. Hell, it was Chad’s second drive. And the snakes survived by blending in. But someone had to take the brunt of his anger. He had been boiling up too. Timothy was a friend. And that bastard Daniel had put him down because he couldn’t keep his smart mouth quiet.

  “I’m sorry, Boss. I don’t know how I missed it. I already had gotten three rattlers this morning.”

  James looked at him and his anger finally burned out. “It happens. Don’t let it happen again, alright? Tell the boys we are breaking for camp early. And tell Jesse to get the stew going and not to be so stingy with the meat and onions. It was damn near brown water yesterday. I know he is stretching the goods, but Duncan is a few days out. Lee probably got there today and is giving the whores a thorough checking. Go!”

  Chad managed a smile, got back in the saddle, and rode to tell the rest the good news. James watched for a second and nearly smiled. He wasn’t always so dour. But things had felt off about this trip from the start. His mother always had feelings that nine times out of ten turned out to be true. He had as well. Intuition, his father had called it. He just wished the intuition didn’t make him feel like the bad was only going to get worse.

  “Boss!” Chris called out, interrupting his dreary thoughts. “I think you might want to come see this.”

  James rubbed his eyes. “What in tarnation is it? Don’t tell me we lost another heifer.”

  He saw the look on Chris’s face and that sinking feeling began to free fall in his guts. He liked Chris. The man could chew the fat with nearly anyone and still manage to keep both the men and the herd on track. He usually had a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. Not now, though. Now he stood off from the makeshift camp Jesse was setting up. He resigned himself to more bad news and walked over to see what fresh hell awaited.

  “What is it? Let me warn you, I’m about out of my tolerance for bad news. That god forsaken rattler already cost us sixty dollars. On top of everything else, I’m starting to think we are cursed.”

  Chris stood by a ring of charred rocks. A campfire seemed to be a likely guess. “It’s not too old boss. I’m guessing Daniel and Lee.”

  James stared at it in bewilderment. “You called me over for this? It was a matter of time until we showed up to one of their campsites.”

  Chris made a sour face. “It was indeed. I called you over because of this.”

  He beckoned James closer and pointed down at a deep red stain in the ground. Then to another. “Looks like there was a struggle and someone got hurt pretty bad. And that isn’t all. I found this as well.”

  He held up a revolver. James grabbed it and gave it a once over. “Fired multiple times.”

  Chris nodded and bent down by the remains of the fire, as if trying to suss out what had happened. “If Daniel tried to escape and Lee was forced to draw on him . . . ”

  “There seems to be enough blood for a fatal shot,” James finished. “Do you smell that?”

  Chris gave a shudder. “Just like at camp the other day.”

  They pushed about in the tall grass looking for another pile of animal carcasses. James let out a whistle and Chris walked over to see what had caught the Boss’s attention. There was a smear of black on the ground. Like tar almost. And where it had dripped, the grass was dead.

  “I don’t like this. Not one bit,” Chris mumbled. He reached up to his neck and wrapped his hand around the silver cross he wore. He was the first to tell a salacious joke with the rest of the guys. But he was also the first to attend service in whatever town they had ridden into. A good man, comfortable in his own skin and faith.

  “Damn it all to Hell. As much as the bastard deserved the trip to the gallows, a gut shot in the middle of nowhere is a bad end. And now this black shit. What in the world is going on?” James stared at the ground with a haunted expression.

  “It feels like this trip is tainted.”

  James looked at Chris and shook his head. “Mumbo Jumbo. Ain’t no such thing as curses. Just plum bad luck. We’ll know well enough in a couple days when we get to Duncan. Until then, let’s keep this between us. No need starting a panic. Everyone is heavy hearted enough with the loss of Timothy.”

  Chris gave him a deeply concerned look. But he saw the logic of the plan. He eventually shrugged his shoulders. “Fair enough.”

  “What brought you over here, anyway?”

  Chris looked away, a hint of red on his wind burnt cheeks. “We just woke up and I had the need for my evening constitutional. All them beans in the stew. Back of the wagon smells like something . . . ” He trailed off as he looked back at the stained dirt. “It smells awful.”

  Neither man smiled. In the distance, a wolf howled as night fell over land. They both shuddered.

  Jarod stood a ways off, watching the two speak. He wondered at what could have pulled them over there to talk. He shrugged and set up the remuda for a night’s grazing, brushing the horses and lost in his own thought. They were close to Duncan, close to the blue-eyed gal at the local bar/brothel. He’d planned on stopping the last time through but then he met her. Tara. Half Indian, her father was from a tribe far to the North. When he died, she and her mother had made their way steadily South. Eventually, she had settled in Duncan. And he had fallen for her. After the herd was delivered to Abilene, he planned on buying a ring and proposing to her. He knew he was getting long in the tooth, but he had a grant in Texas. And she had the prettiest eyes. If she accepted, he was going to retire from this game. Set up shop and start growing something on his five-acre plot. Maybe raise a family. Who could say?

  Jesse had the cook pot over the flames and was busying himself to chopping onions and carrots. James had said not to be stingy, so he broke into his reserves and put two diced up pieces of salt bacon in. Some peppers he had gotten in trade from the Spanish that rode through on occasion as well. They would feast tonight. He paused and thought about Timothy and shook his head. A damn shame. A good man. And he hardly ever complained about what was in the pot for dinner. He heard the others whispering about the run being cursed and just shook head.

  “You fools got time to gossip like old biddies, you got time to set up camp. We didn’t break early so you could lollygag.”

  The guys grumbled but went about the routine. Chris came walking back with James, both men looking sour but trying to squeeze fake smiles on. Chris grabbed Mitch, Paulie, and Danny and they took a circuit around the cattle. It was quiet except for the wolf in the distance. After the excitement of the day, even the herd was exhausted, content to stand and eat the tall grass while the men waited for the stew to finish. The sky went from deep orange to purple as they set up. No one mentioned the half speed everyone else seemed to be mo
ving at.

  Soon enough, the food was ready and Jesse clanged the triangle of metal with one of his oversized spoons. The men ambled into a line, each holding a dented deep plate and a spoon. They made their way past Jesse and settled down with the evening feast. It was quiet except for spoons dragging across metal. No one felt up to banter.

  Finally, Chad spoke up, “How far outta Duncan are we, boss?”

  James looked at the stars for a moment. “We lost most of today. I reckon three more days. Barring any unforeseen accidents, we will be elbows deep in whiskey and whores before we know it.”

  A round of laughter greeted that. James didn’t allow liquor on the trail except one bottle Jesse kept hidden away. Emergency whiskey, they called it. Injuries weren’t unheard of on the trail, something to numb the pain in that case was prudent. And if Jesse snuck a nip once in a while, well, James never mentioned it. Sitting on that damned wagon all day did things to man’s back. He didn’t come by his natural good humor without a little something to keep him from screaming all day.

  The four night’s men took turns patrolling the herd and eating. They had lanterns hanging off their saddles. Once all four had gotten a turn, they waved to the day crew and set out on their paces. Soon, a second wolf began to howl, answering the first in its lonesome call. The Milky Way hung above, obscured by a fast-moving system coming in from the East.

  “We might get a little rain tonight. You boys got your oiled leathers?” Paulie asked.

  Danny stared hard at the clouds. “Ain’t gonna be no rain. Not as fast as it is blowing. Almanac says no rain for weeks.”

  “You and that gosh darned Almanac,” Mitch chided. “About as reliable as Paulie in a fight!”

  “I stood a sight better than you the last time it came to fisticuffs. You were so drunk that the purdy lady, what was her name? Anyway, she knocked you down right quick. You never got back up once!”

  “Kenzie. That purdy lady runs the brothel. And she has a Derringer and three knives on her at all times. I stayed down because she was gonna shoot if I moved.”