by Andy Adams
CHAPTER IX. AT SHERIFF'S CREEK
The sun had nearly set when we galloped into Bob Quirk's camp. Haltingonly long enough to advise my brother of the escape of Tolleston andhis joining the common enemy, I asked him to throw any pursuit off ourtrail, as I proposed breaking camp that evening. Seay and myself putbehind us the few miles between the two wagons, and dashed up to minejust as the outfit were corralling the remuda for night-horses. Ordersrang out, and instead of catching our regular guard mounts, the boyspicked the best horses in their strings. The cattle were then nearlya mile north of camp, coming in slowly towards the bed-ground, but ahalf-dozen of us rushed away to relieve the men on herd and turn thebeeves back. The work-mules were harnessed in, and as soon as therelieved herders secured mounts, our camp of the past few days wasabandoned. The twilight of evening was upon us, and to the rattling ofthe heavily loaded wagon and the shouting of the wrangler in our rearwere added the old herd songs. The cattle, without trail or trace tofollow, and fit ransom for a dozen kings in pagan ages, moved north asif imbued with the spirit of the occasion.
A fair moon favored us. The night was an ideal one for work, and abouttwelve o'clock we bedded down the herd and waited for dawn. As weexpected to move again with the first sign of day, no one cared tosleep; our nerves were under a high tension with expectation of what thecoming day might bring forth. Our location was an unknown quantity. Allagreed that we were fully ten miles north of the Saw Log, and, with thebest reasoning at my command, outside the jurisdiction of Ford County.The regular trail leading north was some six or eight miles to thewest, and fearful that we had not reached unorganized territory, I wasdetermined to push farther on our course before veering to the left.The night halt, however, afforded us an opportunity to compare notesand arrive at some definite understanding as to the programme of theforthcoming day. "Quirk, you missed the sight of your life," said JakeBlair, as we dismounted around the wagon, after bedding the cattle, "bynot being there when the discovery was made that these 'Open A's' wereDon Lovell's cattle. Tolleston, of course, made the discovery; butI think he must have smelt the rat in advance. Archie and the buyersarrived for a late dinner, and several times Tolleston ran his eye overone of the boys and asked, 'Haven't I met you somewhere?' but none ofthem could recall the meeting. Then he got to nosing around the wagonand noticing every horse about camp. The road-brand on the cattle threwhim off the scent just for a second, but when he began reading theranch-brands, he took a new hold. As he looked over the remuda, thescent seemed to get stronger, and when he noticed the 'Circle Dot' onthose work-mules, he opened up and bayed as if he had treed something.And sure enough he had; for you know, Tom, those calico lead mulesbelonged in his team last year, and he swore he'd know them in hell,brand or no brand. When Archie announced the outfit, lock, stock,and barrel, as belonging to Don Lovell, the old buyers turned pale asghosts, and the fat one took off his hat and fanned himself. That actalone was worth the price of admission. But when we boys were appealedto, we were innocent and likewise ignorant, claiming that we alwaysunderstood that the herd belonged to the Marshall estate, but then wewere just common hands and not supposed to know the facts in the case.Tolleston argued one way, and we all pulled the other, so they droveaway, looking as if they hoped it wasn't true. But it was the sight ofyour life to see that fat fellow fan himself as he kept repeating, 'Ithought you boys hurried too much in buying these cattle.'"
The guards changed hourly. No fire was allowed, but Parent set out allthe cold food available, and supplementing this with canned goods,we had a midnight lunch. Dorg Seay regaled the outfit with his recentexperience, concealing nothing, and regretfully admitting that hischarge had escaped before the work was finished. A programme wasoutlined for the morrow, the main feature of which was that, in case ofpursuit, we would all tell the same story. Dawn came between three andfour on those June mornings, and with the first streak of gray in theeast we divided the outfit and mounted our horses, part riding to pushthe cattle off their beds and the others to round in the remuda. Beforethe herd had grazed out a half-mile, we were overtaken by half theoutfit on fresh mounts, who at once took charge of the herd. When therelieved men had secured horses, I remained behind and assisted inharnessing in the team and gathering the saddle stock, a number ofwhich were missed for lack of proper light. With the wagon once started,Levering and myself soon had the full remuda in hand and were bringingup the rear in a long, swinging trot. Before the sun peeped over theeastern horizon, we passed the herd and overtook the wagon, whichwas bumping along over the uneven prairie. Ordering the cook to havebreakfast awaiting us beyond a divide which crossed our front, I turnedback to the herd, now strung out in regular trailing form. The haltahead would put us full fifteen miles north of our camp on the SawLog. An hour later, as we were scaling the divide, one of the point-mensighted a posse in our rear, coming after us like fiends. I was ridingin the swing at the time, the herd being strung out fully a mile, and oncatching first sight of the pursuers, turned and hurried to the rear. Tomy agreeable surprise, instead of a sheriff's posse, my brother and fiveof his men galloped up and overtook us.
"Well, Tom, it's a good thing you moved last night," said Bob, as hereined in his reeking horse. "A deputy sheriff and posse of six men hadme under arrest all night, thinking I was the Quirk who had charge ofDon Lovell's 'Open A' herd. Yes, they came to my camp about midnight,and I admitted that my name was Quirk and that we were holding Lovell'scattle. They guarded me until morning,--I slept like an innocent babemyself,--when the discovery was made that my herd was in a 'CircleDot' road-brand instead of an 'Open A,' which their warrant called for.Besides, I proved by fourteen competent witnesses, who had known me foryears, that my name was Robert Burns Quirk. My outfit told the possethat the herd they were looking for were camped three miles below, buthad left during the afternoon before, and no doubt were then beyondtheir bailiwick. I gave the posse the horse-laugh, but they all wentdown the creek, swearing they would trail down that herd of Lovell's.My cattle are going to follow up this morning, so I thought I'd ride onahead and be your guest in case there is any fun to-day."
The auxiliary was welcomed. The beeves moved on up the divide likeveterans assaulting an intrenchment. On reaching a narrow mesa on thesummit, a northwest breeze met the leaders, and facing it full in theeye, the herd was allowed to tack westward as they went down the fartherslope. This watershed afforded a fine view of the surrounding country,and from its apex I scanned our rear for miles without detecting anysign of animate life. From our elevation, the plain dipped away in everydirection. Far to the east, the depression seemed as real as a troughin the ocean when seen from the deck of a ship. The meanderings of thisdivide were as crooked as a river, and as we surveyed its course one ofBob's men sighted with the naked eye two specks fully five miles distantto the northwest, and evidently in the vicinity of the old trail. Thewagon was in plain view, and leaving three of my boys to drift thecattle forward, we rode away with ravenous appetites to interviewthe cook. Parent maintained his reputation as host, and with a loftyconversation reviewed the legal aspect of the situation confronting us.A hasty breakfast over, my brother asked for mounts for himself andmen; and as we were corralling our remuda, one of the three lads on herdsignaled to us from the mesa's summit. Catching the nearest horses athand, and taking our wrangler with us, we cantered up the slope to ourwaiting sentinel.
"You can't see them now," said Burl Van Vedder, our outlook; "but waita few minutes and they'll come up on higher ground. Here, here, you arelooking a mile too far to the right--they're not following the cattle,but the wagon's trail. Keep your eyes to the left of that shaleoutcropping, and on a line with that lone tree on the Saw Log. Holdyour horses a minute; I've been watching them for half an hour beforeI called you; be patient, and they'll rise like a trout. There! therecomes one on a gray horse. See those two others just behind him. Now,there come the others--six all told." Sure enough, there came thesleuths of deputy sheriffs, trailing up our wagon. They were not overthree miles away
, and after patiently waiting nearly an hour, we rode tothe brink of the slope, and I ordered one of the boys to fire his pistolto attract their attention. On hearing the report, they halted, andtaking off my hat I waved them forward. Feeling that we were on safeterritory, I was determined to get in the first bluff, and as they rodeup, I saluted the leader and said:
"Good-morning, Mr. Sheriff. What are you fooling along on our wagontrack for, when you could have trailed the herd in a long lope? Herewe've wasted a whole hour waiting for you to come up, just because thesheriff's office of Ford County employs as deputies 'nesters' insteadof plainsmen. But now since you are here, let us proceed to business,or would you like to breakfast first? Our wagon is just over the otherslope, and you-all look pale around the gills this morning afteryour long ride and sleepless night. Which shall it be, business orbreakfast?"
Haughtily ignoring my irony, the leader of the posse drew from hispocket several papers, and first clearing his throat, said in animperious tone, "I have a warrant here for the arrest of Tom Quirk,alias McIndoo, and a distress warrant for a herd of 'Open A'--"
"Old sport, you're in the right church, but the wrong pew," Iinterrupted. "This may be the state of Kansas, but at present we areoutside the bailiwick of Ford County, and those papers of yours areuseless. Let me take those warrants and I'll indorse them for you, so asto dazzle your superiors on their return without the man or property. Iwas deputized once by a constable in Texas to assist in recovering somecattle, but just like the present case they got out of our jurisdictionbefore we overtook them. The constable was a lofty, arrogant fellow likeyourself, but had sense enough to keep within his rights. But when itcame to indorsing the warrant for return, we were all up a stump, androde twenty miles out of our way so as to pass Squire Little's ranch andget his advice on the matter. The squire had been a justice in Tennesseebefore coming to our state, and knew just what to say. Now let me takethose papers, and I'll indorse them 'Non est inventus,' which is Latinfor SCOOTED, BY GOSH! Ain't you going to let me have them?"
"Now, look here, young man," scornfully replied the chief deputy,"I'll--"
"No, you won't," I again interrupted. "Let me read you a warrant froma higher court. In the name of law, you are willing to prostituteyour office to assist a gang of thieves who have taken advantage of anopportunity to ruin my employer, an honest trail drover. The warrantI'm serving was issued by Judge Colt, and it says he is supreme inunorganized territory; that your official authority ceases the momentyou step outside your jurisdiction, and you know the Ford County line isbehind us. Now, as a citizen, I'll treat you right, but as an official,I won't even listen to you. And what's more, you can't arrest me or anyman in my outfit; not that your hair's the wrong color, but becauseyou lack authority. I'm the man you're looking for, and these are DonLovell's cattle, but you can't touch a hoof of them, not even a stray.Now, if you want to dispute the authority which I've sighted, all youneed to do is pull your guns and open your game."
"Mr. Quirk," said the deputy, "you are a fugitive from justice, and Ican legally take you wherever I find you. If you resist arrest, all theworse, as it classes you an outlaw. Now, my advice is--"
But the sentence was never finished, for coming down the divide like ahurricane was a band of horsemen, who, on sighting us, raised the longyell, and the next minute Dave Sponsilier and seven of his men dashedup. The boys opened out to avoid the momentum of the onslaught, but thedeputies sat firm; and as Sponsilier and his lads threw their horsesback on their haunches in halting, Dave stood in his stirrups, andwaving his hat shouted, "Hurrah for Don Lovell, and to hell with thesheriff and deputies of Ford County!" Sponsilier and I were greatfriends, as were likewise our outfits, and we nearly unhorsed each otherin our rough but hearty greetings. When quiet was once more restored,Dave continued: "I was in Dodge last night, and Bob Wright put me nextthat the sheriff was going to take possession of two of old man Don'sherds this morning. You can bet your moccasins that the grass didn'tgrow very much while I was getting back to camp. Flood and The Rebeltook fifteen men and went to Quince's support, and I have been scoutingsince dawn trying to locate you. Yes, the sheriff himself and fivedeputies passed up the trail before daybreak to arrest Forrest and takepossession of his herd--I don't think. I suppose these strangers aredeputy sheriffs? If it was me, do you know what I'd do with them?"
The query was half a command. It required no order, for in an instantthe deputies were surrounded, and had it not been for the cool judgmentof Bob Quirk, violence would have resulted. The primitive mind is slowto resent an affront, and while the chief deputy had couched his lastremarks in well-chosen language, his intimation that I was a fugitivefrom justice, and an outlaw in resisting arrest, was tinder to stubble.Knowing the metal of my outfit, I curbed the tempest within me, andrelying on a brother whom I would gladly follow to death if need be, Iwaved hands off to my boys. "Now, men," said Bob to the deputies, "theeasiest way out of this matter is the best. No one here has committedany crime subjecting him to arrest, neither can you take possession ofany cattle belonging to Don Lovell. I'll renew the invitation for you togo down to the wagon and breakfast, or I'll give you the best directionsat my command to reach Dodge. Instead of trying to attempt to accomplishyour object you had better go back to the chaparral--you're spelleddown. Take your choice, men."
Bob's words had a soothing effect. He was thirty-three years old and anatural born leader among rough men. His advice carried the steely ringof sincerity, and for the first time since the meeting, the deputieswilted. The chief one called his men aside, and after a briefconsultation my brother was invited to join them, which he did. Iafterwards learned that Bob went into detail in defining our positionin the premises, and the posse, once they heard the other side of thequestion, took an entirely different view of the matter. While theconsultation was in progress, we all dismounted; cigarettes were rolled,and while the smoke arose in clouds, we reviewed the interim sincewe parted in March in old Medina. The sheriff's posse accompanied mybrother to the wagon, and after refreshing themselves, remounted theirhorses. Bob escorted them back across the summit of the mesa, and theolive branch waved in peace on the divide.
The morning was not far advanced. After a brief consultation, the twoolder foremen urged that we ride to the relief of Forrest. A hint wassufficient, and including five of my best-mounted men, a posse of twentyof us rode away. We held the divide for some distance on our course, andbefore we left it, a dust-cloud, indicating the presence of Bob's herd,was sighted on the southern slope, while on the opposite one my cattlewere beginning to move forward. Sponsilier knew the probable whereaboutsof Forrest, and under his lead we swung into a free gallop as we droppeddown the northern slope from the mesa. The pace was carrying us acrosscountry at a rate of ten miles an hour, scarcely a word being spoken, aswe shook out kink after kink in our horses or reined them in to recovertheir wind. Our objective point was a slight elevation on the plain,from which we expected to sight the trail if not the herds of Flood,Forrest, and The Rebel. On reaching this gentle swell, we reined in andhalted our horses, which were then fuming with healthy sweat. Both creekand trail were clearly outlined before us, but with the heat-wavesand mirages beyond, our view was naturally restricted. Sponsilier feltconfident that Forrest was north of the creek and beyond the trail,and again shaking out our horses, we silently put the intervening milesbehind us. Our mounts were all fresh and strong, and in crossing thecreek we allowed them a few swallows of water before continuing ourride. We halted again in crossing the trail, but it was so worn byrecent use that it afforded no clue to guide us in our quest. But fromthe next vantage-point which afforded us a view, a sea of cattle greetedour vision, all of which seemed under herd. Wagon sheets were nextsighted, and finally a horseman loomed up and signaled to us. He provedto be one of Flood's men, and under his direction Forrest's camp andcattle were soon located. The lad assured us that a pow-wow had been insession since daybreak, and we hurried away to add our numbers to itscouncil. When we sighted Forrest's wagon
among some cottonwoods, anumber of men were just mounting to ride away, and before we reachedcamp, they crossed the creek heading south. A moment later, Forrestwalked out, and greeting us, said:
"Hello, fellows. Get down and let your horses blow and enjoy yourselves.You're just a minute late to meet some very nice people. Yes, we had thesheriff from Dodge and a posse of men for breakfast. No--no particulartrouble, except John Johns, the d--fool, threw the loop of his rope overthe neck of the sheriff's horse, and one of the party offered to unslinga carbine. But about a dozen six-shooters clicked within hearing, and heacted on my advice and cut gun-plays out. No trouble at all except a bigmedicine talk, and a heap of legal phrases that I don't sabe very clear.Turn your horses loose, I tell you, for I'm going to kill a nice fatstray, and towards evening, when the other herds come up, we'll havea round-up of Don Lovell's outfits. I'll make a little speech, andon account of the bloodless battle this morning, this stream will berechristened Sheriff's Creek."