“We get half of them in, then you and I will move in on the upstream side and cross. Keep an eye where they start swimming so you’re ready.”
“I’ll be fine. You two men are very organized and I can’t believe how well the pair of you have done to get here. Your father taught you a lot. I guess you know that. I commanded experienced soldiers all during the war that couldn’t match you two.”
“I am going to be close. I can swim, Emory. You get away from your horse I’ll do all I can to get to you. There’s lots of current going by. It’s sweeping a few steers downstream but they are gaining the shore and I don’t think we will lose many.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m not wearing a side arm. I could swim.”
“Just try to stay with your horse all you can.”
The cattle, with few exceptions, were streaming across an almost quarter-mile-wide ford. Some of the cowboys were going down the bank over on the other side to get the cattle that were carried away some by the current. Harp sent Emory ahead, told him to get his horse upstream from the cattle stream, and head north.
His buffalo horse followed Emory’s good Kentucky horse into the shallows. Forty feet out in water some steers had a fuss and swarmed around fighting. The big horse shied. Emory was off and in the water in a flash. Harp charged his horse in to aid him.
Those upset cattle blocked his path and he was caught in a flurry of spooked animals. He saw Emory was swimming, but he knew that the man did not have the strength to swim to that north shore. Milling steers blocked his own horse from getting to him to help him before the water deepened. He rose on his horse standing on the seat, then dove over two steers and began swimming to Emory.
He heard the men shouting as he swam through the water to get to the still swimming Emory. Then he was beside him.
“Get on my back. I can get you over there.”
His white face shocked Harp who urged him, “Do it now.”
“Thanks—”
“Never mind that. We need you on shore. Just hang on.”
“I’m sorry, Harp. You said—”
“Save your strength.” He began to stroke for the shore. The current was stronger than it looked, but he wanted his employer in shallow water as fast as possible, and they had a long way to go.
Three of his men were in the river out about as far as he figured their horses could stand in the river’s force, waiting for him to get close to them. Once, when Emory let go of him, Harp’s heart stopped. He swung around and could see him floating away not struggling.
Harp went after him and in minutes he had hold of him. Holding Emory’s head up he fought the river, towing him along going farther downstream but shore bound.
Doug swam his horse out, took Emory’s collar, and swung the horse back for shore.
“He alive?”
“I think so.”
Chaw waited for Harp in the shallower water, tossed him a lariat, and hauled him to shore. “Did you save him?”
Harp climbed to his feet in the shallows. “I hope so. I think he simply passed out and let go of me.”
“Man, where did you learn to swim like that?” Chaw asked, impressed.
“A place on the Illinois River north of here. My father’s first wife drowned and so he made us learn how to swim at an early age.”
Chaw shook his head. “When he let go, I thought he was drowned.”
Harp dropped on his knees beside the man. “Emory, what happened?”
“My heart I guess. I blanked out. Sorry. You sure risked your life for me.”
“Never mind that.” He looked up for help. “Men, we need a wagon. And find a doctor to check him. The rest of you, gather all the cattle and start them east. That road up there goes to Lee’s Creek and that is where the wagons will be this afternoon.” He pointed east.
His point rider Chaw said, “We’ll send for a wagon and the rest of us will take the herd to Long.”
A hand jumped on his horse and rode off, hard, to find a wagon. Chaw and Doug retrieved the last cattle and drove them to the huddled herd. Several herders rode by to voice their concern about Emory.
Harp told them, “He is alive and will be well. We’ve sent for a wagon to get him to a doctor who will check him out. You guys get those steers to Lee’s Creek.”
“Sure will, boss. You tell him we are praying for him to get well.”
“I will.”
In a few minutes they started the herd east. His point riders left him the young puncher Norm Savoy, a boy in his teens, to help him.
He squatted nearby. “Good thing it’s hot today. All our blankets are at Lee’s Creek huh?”
“I wish we had some. Never can do a good job planning everything all the time.” Harp felt satisfied that Emory was sleeping. Damn, why didn’t he put his foot down when he was already worried about him taking the river. Emory, before the war, was out of the same mold he and Long were—did it all. But his war wound and that bullet still in his chest had rationed his activities, and there was no way he could have swum across that damn fishy-smelling river.
No telling what would happen next. His father told him Arkansas people could be real hard nosed. Most of the war had been centered up there with both sides fighting back and forth across the same ground. And for him to expect anything to happen.
In an hour cowboy Kevin Doones returned, followed by a wagon and team. The overall-wearing man on the spring seat who drove it was black. He reined up his mules and wrapped off the reins, jumped down, and came over to ask Harp what he could do for them. They shook hands.
“My name’s Washington Adams, sir.”
“Harp O’Malley’s mine. Where is the closest doctor?”
“Roland there’s one.”
“We need to take him up there in your wagon. One of us will ride with him. The rest will ride their horses.”
“I ain’t got no blankets.”
“He’ll understand. We’ll be careful loading him. Best we can do is the best we can do, Washington.”
“Yes, sah. I’s help you move him.”
“Thanks.”
On his knees, Harp spoke to him. “Emory, we’re taking you to the doctor in Mr. Washington’s wagon. We don’t have a mattress, but we’ll get you there and get you checked out.”
The four loaded him. Harp told Norm to ride with him. “We’ll catch your horse and bring him on.” Kevin caught his horse and Emory’s and they all started for Roland.
The doctor’s house was a two-story affair on the main road. Harp dismounted and went ahead to knock on the door. Emory was awake and they waited to unload him.
A white-haired woman answered the door.
Harp removed his hat. “Is the doctor in?”
“Yes, do you need to see him?”
“No, ma’am. But my boss had an incident happen crossing the river. I think it is his heart.”
“Can you bring him inside?”
“Yes.”
“The doctor can see him right away.”
“I will get him.” He turned to go back. “Thanks.”
“The doc will see him. We need to get him inside. Mr. Washington, do you have time to wait? I may need him hauled to Lee’s Creek where my herd is waiting.”
“Mr. Harp, I got all the time you need.”
“Thanks.”
They moved Emory inside carefully and put him on a table. To Harp he looked terribly white and drained, but he still could manage a smile.
Doctor Mulligan was a man in his forties. A concerned-looking man who listened to Emory’s heart with his stethoscope first, and then asked about the scar on his chest.
“He was wounded in the war. They never got the bullet out. He said they told him it was too close to his heart.”
Mulligan nodded. “His heartbeat is irregular. What else happened to him?”
“We forded the river about an hour or so ago. His horse got mixed up with some fighting cattle. He almost drowned before I could swim and catch him, then he passed out on me coming to shor
e.”
Mulligan made a face. “He should have been in a boat and rowed across.”
Harp nodded. “My supply wagons used the ferries at Fort Smith and Van Buren. I tried to convince him to go with them. He told me he could make it.”
“Not much I can do. I have some medicine that will increase his heart rate and if he is not bleeding internally it will help him.”
“Would that business in the river have caused him to bleed inside?”
Mulligan shook his head. “I have no idea where the bullet is or if he’s bleeding inside. I can’t see that part. A small increase in his heartbeat would help him. That is, if he’s not bleeding internally.”
“He’s a pretty strong man.”
“I can tell that. I am recommending small doses of laudanum for the pain and this medicine to increase his heartbeat. You could leave him here to recover, but I get the impression it is urgent for you to move on. With him with you.”
“Yes, it is. I have eight hundred head of big Texas steers at Lee’s Creek to move north.”
The doctor nodded. “He will have to lay flat and hope that his condition improves. I will be frank, moving him may be the death of him, but you will have to be the judge.”
“Take the medicine along—I’ll make it,” Emory managed.
“You heard him, Doctor. Tell me how much and when I need to give it.”
Doc explained the procedure. “A drop on his tongue once a day. If his heart slows, two more drops. One teaspoon of laudanum morning and night. His pain goes down, stop it.”
“What is this drop stuff ?”
“A herb called digitalis. It increases the heartbeat. You can find it if you run out.”
“How much do I owe you?”
“Two dollars.”
“You have change for ten?”
“Yes.”
Harp felt grateful for the steer money. And pocketed the change. He went out to see about Washington and found Norm.
“The black man has gone for a mattress and blankets.”
“Guess he read my mind,” Harp said, looking up and down the street. No sign of Washington. Surely he was coming back.
“He’s sure a nice guy.”
“We were lucky to find him,” Harp agreed.
“What about Emory?”
“The doc gave me some medicine for him. I don’t know much about doctoring folks, Norm, but I have the instructions.”
“I hear the wagon coming back. Kevin is letting the horses graze. He’ll hear him and come back.”
“I imagine it will be a good haul to Lee’s Creek.”
“I do, too.”
With Emory carefully loaded on the bed that Washington acquired, they set out east to find the herd. On the river road, he jogged the horses. They’d be out of daylight before they reached the herd, and Harp sure didn’t want to miss them.
About sundown one of the cowboys, Eldon Morehouse, waved them down after they crossed a shallow creek. “We’re up the road on a burned-out farm. How is he?”
“Alive,” Harp said, and thanked him.
Long met them on the road. “How is he?”
“Tough shape. But he’s alive. Doc back at Roland wanted him to stay there and recover. Emory won’t hear of it.”
Long nodded. “This drive is his baby. We have a good place tonight. I think another good place tomorrow. But there’s lots of mountains they say ahead, just timber and no grass.”
“Well, it hasn’t been a joy ride anywhere we’ve gone.”
“Fayetteville is the next big town. Maybe five days or more north.”
Harp nodded. “We need to fix him a bed in the smaller wagon. I simply hope he does not die on us.”
Long agreed. When they reached camp it was dark. He invited Washington to eat with him and the boys.
“Aw I don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, you do. You saved his life today and you got that bedding. We want you to eat with us.”
“All right, Mr. Harp. I will eat with you.”
“Good. What do I owe you?”
“Fifty cents too much?”
“Too little. I’m paying you two dollars. What did the mattress cost?”
“Ten cents.”
“Here’s three dollars; now come eat. Ira has lots of food. And you’ll stay and eat breakfast with us in the morning.”
“Aw, Mr. Harp, that be way too much money.”
“No, Washington, you were a lifesaver.”
“I sure am proud that cowboy stopped me today. Thank all of yous.”
They cheered him.
“By the way, where be this place yous be going?”
“Sedalia, Missouri.”
“Never heard of it. But good luck.”
“Thanks. We will need it.” Harp nodded and sat down, with his plate on the ground, beside the big man.
“How long yous been on the road?”
“A month or maybe more.”
“How far dis place be you going to?”
“Maybe two months. Maybe less.”
Washington nodded. “I pray for you to get there and him to live.”
“Thanks. We need all the help we can get.”
“No. Yous’ll do it. I see in these boys’ faces you bunch are real doers. They worried about the boss man being down but they ain’t no quitters in the whole lot. Mr. Harp, I say these boys would go straight through hell with you.”
“Thanks again. That is a big compliment for me and them.”
“That be the truth.” Washington went to feeding his face.
Later Harp talked to Emory, who ate some watery oatmeal and said he felt better.
But the boss man was miles away from being well, and Harp knew he would worry about him and the wagon rocking miles ahead.
Damn . . . how did I get in such a jam ?
CHAPTER 5
Two days’ drive north of Lee’s Creek, Harp rode down and looked at the two-foot waterfall called Natural Dam on the same creek. The first day had been a short one and they stayed near the country store at a place known as Union Town. They had no trouble. A few curious men came by and asked him where they were headed. When they learned of their destination, most shook their heads and as much as said Greg’s men would not get there with all those damn cattle.
“Tomorrow we have to cross some mountains, but there are some deserted farms we can stop and graze at. It’ll be another short day,” Long explained. “I know we aren’t making many long moves, but with woods, and finding water and grass, is where we need to stop.”
“I understand. Emory don’t need any more shaking up, either, than he gets in a day.”
“He is not getting stronger very fast is he?”
“Braver yes. Better no,” said Harp.
“I know you have considered it, but what will we do if he dies?”
“Bury him and go on. Nothing else we can do. He wants the cattle sold and his wife to get his share.”
“We have never sold but two steers in our lifetime. How do you do that?”
“He’s been telling me how. I think you and I can handle it.”
“I hope you’re listening good.”
“I am. So far so good. The rest of the way like this?”
“Yes. Woods, farms, and water.”
“Keep finding us places like that is all I can say.”
So far, Harp bet a hundred curious men had come by and asked where they were going. Then they left, shaking their heads about the notion of going to Sedalia.
The cowboys came to a closed stage stop, and a farmer told them Fayetteville was about ten miles north. No stages were running yet since the operation had been closed because of the war efforts.
One passerby said, “I bet the Union Army stops you up there. They have gotten to be real damn bossy since Lee signed that damn armistice. They don’t want Rebs to make a dime and he wants us all to starve to death.”
Hearing that, Harp told the boys to secure all their rifles, hiding them in the wagon. They might
need them and he didn’t want to lose them to some zealous Union guards.
No telling what they’d face on up the road.
Some armed men came by that night after dark. The leader called himself Smith and they asked lots of questions. Too many for Harp’s comfort.
Harp finally asked if the men were resisting the Union forces.
“You’re damn right. Lee might have surrendered, but by gawd we ain’t.”
“Listen. I am in charge of these cattle for a man and more people back in Texas. My job is to take them to market. I am not fighting the Union Army. I am going to deliver them to the railhead in Missouri and that is all.”
“You just going to let them take this land and your rights from you?”
“I know nothing about taking land and rights. I told you what I am doing. Now clear out of my camp.”
Smith drew a pistol and threatened to fire it.
“Put down the damn gun. It could stampede our cattle.”
“You yellowbellied carp-sucking fish. I ought to kill all of you.”
Doug knocked him out from behind with a club, while six guns drawn immediately backed Harp. He ordered the intruders to take their leader out of the camp and be gone.
“You are not welcome here.”
They picked up their groggy leader and left the camp.
When they were gone, Harp told the boys, “We didn’t come up here to fight the damn war all over again. We have steers to deliver and that’s the job. I know many of you fought during the war, but it is over and we have to make the best of it. We have to get these bawling cattle to Missouri and sell them to get a dime for our time. That’s my goal. I hope to hell it’s yours.”
A chorus of amens supported him.
The next day, following the same river that they had learned to swim in, they headed for the town called Fayetteville. Long thought they could go around the town.
A small company of Union soldiers stopped them on the main road.
Harp rode around the stopped cattle to see why.
“What’s wrong?” he asked Chaw.
He gave a head toss toward the mounted soldiers and said, “He says we need papers to prove these cattle were not stolen and to enter the town ahead.”
The O'Malleys of Texas Page 6