by Peter Grant
Walt frowned. “I’ve never figured out why the Army still makes its soldiers use single-shot Springfield and Sharps rifles an’ carbines, sir. It’s like the generals in Washington are making their men fight with one hand tied behind their backs.”
Mackenzie sighed. “I can’t comment officially, you understand, but sometimes I long for the Civil War days, when our cavalry fielded seven-shot Spencer carbines. They were very effective. I wished we’d had them when I took the Fourth Cavalry into Mexico last year.”
“You cleaned out the Indians there, didn’t you, sir?”
“We put a dent in them, at least. The Kickapoo and Lipan Apaches had been raiding into southern Texas, so we had to hit back. We taught them a hard, painful lesson. I expect things will be more peaceful for a few years, until they forget that – then we’ll have to do it all over again. My main worry right now is northern and western Texas. Things are building up to a head there. Buffalo hunters are ignoring the boundaries set in the Medicine Lodge Treaty of 1867, and shooting them on Indian land. The Kiowa and Comanche won’t stand for that. The increase in settlers moving into the area is another factor. They’re only on the fringes as yet, but the Indians regard that as an invasion of their traditional hunting grounds.”
“Reckon if I was in their shoes, I might, too. You think they’re painting for war, Colonel?”
“I think they are. I’m putting a great deal of hope in you to help us prepare for that by making up our shortfall in cavalry horses. I can’t send official Army buyers into Mexico, but if you can act on our behalf and get us the quality and quantity of remounts we need, you’ll have made a major contribution in your own right to our future campaigns.”
“I’ll surely do my best for you, Colonel. Fort Union said the Army needed up to two thousand remounts across Texas and New Mexico.”
“I think that’s an underestimate. If you can bring back more, I’ll take them all.”
“But, sir, what about payment? Fort Union told me there’s only enough in the budget for that many animals.”
“I see. Well, Mr. Ames, while you head into Mexico, I’m going to send an urgent message to General Sheridan. If anyone can shake loose more money for horses, he can; and he understands the needs of the cavalry from personal experience. By the time you get back, I should have word from him. I daresay it’ll be positive. I’m going to ask you to put your trust in me, and in him, and bring back as many horses as you can, in that expectation.”
Walt thought for a moment. “I guess I can take a chance on that, sir. If you don’t buy them, I’ll be able to sell them in San Antonio, although not at prices as good as the Army’s payin’. I reckon I won’t lose on the deal, at least. I’ve just got to figure out how to make my money stretch far enough to buy as many as I can, before you pay for them. That ain’t gonna be easy.”
“I know you’ll do your best. Thank you, Mr. Ames.”
Walt hesitated. “Ah… Sir, in your dealings with the Kiowa, did you ever hear of a young warrior named Laughing Raven?”
Mackenzie looked at him curiously. “As a matter of fact, I have. He’s one of their sub-chiefs now, a man of some influence, and a respected warrior – one of their Dog Soldiers, in fact. Do you know him?”
“In a way, sir.” Walt explained how he’d encountered the then-youth during his trip across Kansas in 1866, and how he’d given him his grandfather’s rifle sleeve, reckoned to be big medicine by the Kiowa. “He gave me his tomahawk in exchange. We parted as friends. I’ve often wondered how he was doin’.”
“He appears to be doing well. Interesting that you should have such a connection with him. Speaking of Indians, I’m told you have Navajo scouts with you. Was that authorized?”
“Yes, sir. I have a letter from the reservation agent giving them permission to work for me.”
“Very good. How are they working out?”
“Real well, Colonel, but then I expected that to begin with. I got to know them in New Mexico a year or two back. Nastas, their boss, became a friend, and one of my men married his daughter – Isom Fisher, who used to be a sergeant at Fort Davis. They live with him now on Isom’s spread in New Mexico, near the Navajo reservation.”
“Fort Davis? So he was a buffalo soldier?”
“Yes, sir, Ninth Cavalry. He lost a hand in combat, and had to leave the service.”
“That’s a great pity. We lose too many good, experienced men like that, but Army regulations won’t allow us to keep them on unless they’re fully able-bodied. You’re satisfied with the Navajos’ performance, then?”
“Yes, sir. They kept us pretty well covered during the journey south, and helped us locate, then raid those Comancheros. O’ course, they’re helping the Army in New Mexico already. Major Price signed up fifty of ’em at Fort Wingate last year, and I heard he plans to do the same this year.”
“He does. Based on what I’ve heard from both of you, I may look to use them myself later this year. Do you think any of yours would take on with the Cavalry for a campaign?”
“I reckon so, Colonel, if it’s a short ’un. I expect to have them back in Colorado by sometime in May. They’ll spend much of the summer with me there, breaking horses to the saddle and sorting out breeding stock. If you need them, I can send them to any fort or rendezvous you choose. They’ll need to be back home by winter, though.”
“Do they speak English?”
“Most speak some Spanish, sir. Some can understand a little English, but not much.”
“Do you have someone who could ride with them, to be their interpreter when dealing with the Army? A sort of civilian chief scout?”
“Ah… if need be, I maybe could do that, Colonel. I was a cavalry scout and courier myself, after all, so I know the sort of work they’ll be called upon to do.”
“That would be very helpful. What’s more, if we should happen to run into Laughing Raven again, your connection to him might prove useful. As a former Confederate, you won’t object to serving with the Army?”
“I reckon not, sir. Right after the War, I felt different; but time’s passed, and it’s healed those wounds. I reckon you were doin’ your best for what you believed in, just as we were. We lost, and there’s no point in arguin’ about that. I’ve built a new life for myself since then. It’s not as if I’d be wearin’ your uniform, anyway, is it, sir? I’d be a civilian scout, not a soldier.”
“That’s true. I’m afraid, with your injured hand, we couldn’t swear you into the ranks, for the same reason your friend Sergeant Fisher had to be discharged. Very well, Mr. Ames. Please leave your address with my adjutant. If I have need of the Navajos, I’ll telegraph, asking you to bring them to a rendezvous I’ll designate.”
“Will do, sir.”
As he walked back to the barracks, Walt decided to ask Nastas, Gaagii and Notah, the three Navajo who’d accompanied his party, to talk to the Seminole scouts at the fort. They’d ridden with Colonel Mackenzie on the punitive expedition into Mexico last year, and would be able to advise what to expect from the Indians there. It would be a worthwhile precaution.
To Walt’s pleasure, Tyler Reese arrived the following day, bringing ten cowhands with him from his ranch near Gainesville, in north central Texas. They shook hands enthusiastically.
“You’re lookin’ lean, mean an’ tough,” Tyler greeted him with a grin. “I’d kinda figured you’d run to fat after so many peaceful years out west, but all those miles from Colorado have worked it clean off of you.”
“Fat? Huh! You’re the one who ought to be fat, eatin’ all that beef on the way to the railhead every year. I’m surprised you ain’t sproutin’ longhorns of your own!”
“Naw. My head’s too hard for them. They can’t get out through my skull. Did Jess Manning make it safely to El Paso?”
“He sure did. He’s on his way into Mexico now, with close on fifty of my men and yours. They’re goin’ to be workin’ hard over there, while we do the same down here.”
“Glad to hear it.
I’m thankin’ you for the chance to get in on this. A lot o’ my money is tied up in cattle, but I brought three thousand to invest in hosses. If this works out like you hope, that should double my money or better. That’ll help me build up my nest egg for the ranch I want to buy in the Panhandle, soon as they clean the Injuns outta the way.”
“Have you got enough saved yet?”
“Oh, heck, no! I’ve got about ten thousand in cash, the same in cattle to drive up to Kansas come the spring, plus the value o’ my land. Call it twenty-five thousand or so, all in all. That’s not near enough for the size of spread I want, or the cattle to go on it. It’s dry country up there, an’ not well grassed, so you may need ten or more acres per steer. I’m lookin’ to buy at least a hundred thousand acres, more if I can afford it.”
Walt whistled in surprise. “You ain’t thinkin’ small, are you?”
“Nope. If I get in early, as soon as it’s safe, I can buy land right off the surveyors’ plats as they draw ’em. I’ll go for the well-watered places, to lock up the land around them. Grazin’ without water is useless, so I can buy that cheap later, if I get the water rights first. Thing is, there’s others with the same idea. I’ll have to have enough money right from the get-go to buy what I need. If I have to wait, all the good land will be gone, and it’ll cost a lot more. Trouble is, Texas is still messed up from Reconstruction. Governor Davis made sure former Rebs like you and I found it hard to get bank loans an’ the like. Meanwhile, his cronies got anything they wanted. He’s just been voted out, but he’s tryin’ to hold on to office any way he can. The courts have weighed in, and they say he’s even asked President Grant to send troops.”
Walt frowned. “I can’t see the Yankees doing that. It’d start another civil war!”
“I hope you’re right. We need Davis gone, so Texas can get to growin’ again.”
“Good luck with that, and with your ranch huntin’. When the time comes to buy it, talk to me. I may have money to invest in a ranch, for a few years at least. I reckon we trust each other enough to make it work, in a way that’s fair to both of us; and if I’m a partner, you won’t have to pay interest to a bank.”
Tyler’s face lit up. “Thanks, Walt. That may make all the difference. When the time comes, you’ll hear from me for sure.”
Walt gave everybody two days to relax, and to rest their horses. He bought more supplies from the Fort’s sutler for the journey south, noting in passing that his stocks were limited. He’d have to make other arrangements for the return journey.
The Navajo scouts visited the Seminoles, and came back with interesting news. The local scouts reckoned there was still a risk of Indian attack just over the border in the region of San Felipe del Rio, which the Americans called simply ‘Del Rio’. They suggested that instead of crossing there, Walt should take his party further south to Eagle Pass, and cross the Rio Grande there to the Mexican town of Piedras Negras, returning the same way with his horse herds. Walt changed his plans accordingly.
Walt took the opportunity to sound out his Navajo scouts about the possibility of working with the Army if hostilities with the Comanche and Kiowa recommenced later that year. To a man, they were enthusiastic. Nastas said with approval, “It will let the boys grow into men. By the time this horse-buying journey is over, they will have learned a lot and matured even more. They will then be able to work with the rest of us as scouts in their own right.”
“What about their families?” Walt asked. “Won’t we have to get their permission?”
“No. If I say it is in order, that is all that will be needed.”
“We’d better have all o’ you head for your homes after this trip, to visit your families before you come back to the ranch. That way, if you’re gone for longer than planned, they’ll know about it, an’ you can leave your new hosses safely with them. O’ course, this may not come to anything. We’ll have to see what happens.”
Nastas nodded. “That will also give those who wish it, the chance to remain at home. I can get others to take their place. There are many young men eager to ride the war trail. They cannot do so on the reservation, but to serve as Army scouts, they will be given permission to leave it.”
“As long as they’re as good as you all are, I’m happy with that. I’ll ask the Colonel to give me a letter sayin’ what he wants, so the Reservation Agent will understand.”
Walt couldn’t help smiling at the eager expression on young Notah’s face. It showed his aspirations very clearly.
That evening Pablo’s four men arrived, tired, but grateful to be able to rest for a brief period before heading south with the group once more. They brought good news. They’d arranged horse fairs at Saltillo and Monterrey, in the heart of horse-breeding country, and expected ranchers to bring their herds from a hundred miles or more around each town.
“I think they may bring far more horses than you need, señor,” Carlos, the leader of Pablo’s group, warned Walt. “You may have to send many away.”
“Maybe not, if their prices are low enough,” Walt replied thoughtfully, remembering Colonel Mackenzie’s wishes. “Up at El Paso, we were told that if we pay in gold, we might get good hosses for as little as six dollars a head. D’you think that’s true here too?”
“Possibly, señor, especially if the alternative is to trail their horses all the way back to their homes. It is a low price, but gold is something a man can touch and feel. It will be more acceptable than banknotes. For the best horses, you might have to pay a little more, perhaps seven or eight dollars.”
“We’ll have to see about that. All right, rest and relax tomorrow. If you need anything from the sutler’s store, let me know and I’ll buy it for you. We ride south the day after tomorrow.”
7
Walt looked at the rickety wooden bridge across the Rio Grande with some trepidation. “What d’you think, Tyler?” he asked. “Will that thing take the weight of all of us, and our remuda, at the same time?”
“I wouldn’t like to chance it. What with our ridin’ hosses, remounts and pack hosses, we’ve got close to a hundred head. I’d take ’em across in two groups, was I you, and in single file.”
“That’s what we’ll do, then. You split the men and horses behind me. I’ll go across with the first half, to smooth things over on the Mexican side. You follow along with the rest once we’re across.”
“I’ll do that. Reckon when we come back, we’d best drive our hoss herd through the old ford, rather than trust ’em to this bridge.”
“Good idea, if the river’s low enough. Let’s remember that.”
The Mexican authorities had been informed of the group’s arrival, and the reason for their visit, so there were no problems in getting everyone into the country, even the Navajo scouts. The only worry was when Walt had to declare how much money he was bringing with him. The official’s eyebrows flew up when he heard the sum of ten thousand dollars, but he relaxed when he was informed that it was to buy horses. Nevertheless, the rest of the border officials looked distinctly covetous. Walt wished he hadn’t had to mention the amount he was carrying, but there was nothing for it.
As they rode away from the crossing, he muttered to Tyler, “I didn’t like the way the officials looked when they heard about my money.”
“Neither did I. I’m glad they didn’t ask me about mine. Reckon some of ’em might try to fine us for something, or figure out another way to get their hands on it?”
“Maybe. I reckon they might tell local bandidos about it in return for a cut of the loot. We’d best keep our eyes open.”
Sure enough, before they’d gone a dozen miles, one of the rear guard rode forward. “Boss, there’s a couple o’ men on horseback followin’ us. They ain’t comin’ any closer, just hangin’ back about a mile or two. Thing is, when we go over a hill, they close up, like they was hurryin’ to make sure we didn’t turn off somewhere. Soon as they crest the hill and can see us again, they slow down and keep their distance.”
“
Followin’ us for sure,” Tyler said with a black scowl. “Want me to take some o’ my men back there an’ deal with them?”
Walt shook his head. “Followin’ us ain’t a crime. If you try to stop them, and they show fight, what’re you gonna tell the Guardia Rural? We’d have no legal reason to shoot ’em. Naw, we’ll just double our guard at night, an’ keep on the alert. If they want to jump a party this strong an’ this well armed, they’re gonna have to work for it.”
The two watchers kept their distance throughout the day. As the group turned into a field about fifteen miles from Piedras Negras, to bed down for the night, they halted for a while, watching the activities, then turned and rode back in the direction from which they had come.
“They’re goin’ somewhere to report to someone,” Walt guessed as he watched them through his spyglass. “I’m willin’ to bet they, or two more, will be back tomorrow mornin’, to see where we’re goin’.”
“No, thanks,” Tyler retorted with a grin. “I only bet on sure things for me, not for the other guy!”
Over the next few days, Walt’s prediction was proved correct. Every morning, as the sun rose, two observers – not always the same two – were waiting on a rise about a mile away. They followed the group during the day, and watched while they made camp in the evenings; then they turned and rode away.
Late in the afternoon of their fourth day in Mexico, they reached the small town of Nueva Rosita. There appeared to be some sort of festival in progress; a small band was playing, stalls had been set up in and around the main square, and vendors were doing a brisk trade selling food and drink. Walt was conscious of the eager eyes of his men on the goings-on, and made a snap decision.
“Boys, we’ll make camp for the night on the far side of town. I want four men on watch at all times. The first four will guard the camp an’ the hosses while the rest come back here to have some fun. I’ll make sure they’re relieved by seven, to let them do the same. Don’t flash your money around, and don’t bully or shove your way through the crowds. Remember, this ain’t our country – it’s theirs, and we want ’em to sell us their hosses. Treat ’em the way we’d like our guests to treat us.”