Ralph Compton The Cheyenne Trail

by Ralph Compton

  Black Feather climbed back onto his pony.

  Yellow Horse found more ammunition in Homer’s saddlebags. He gave the saddlebags to Silver Bear, who draped them over his pony’s back and tied on the leather band that held them together.

  He felt inside. “There is food for us too,” he said.

  “Do we ride on after the cattle and the white men?” Black Feather asked.

  “Yes, we ride on,” Silver Bear said.

  “And soon the sun will be born again,” Yellow Horse said.

  But Silver Bear was already riding back to the trail, even as the wind died down and the ground began to freeze. His pony’s hooves made crunching sounds when it reached the ground-up mud of the trail.

  There were dead white men behind him, he thought. And more up ahead.

  And the snow had stopped falling.

  It was a good sign.

  Chapter 34

  Mullins saw them first. There was no time to grab his rifle and put it to his shoulder.

  Three Indians in plain sight. Their faces were hideous with war paint. And they had Riggs under their guns, his rifle scabbard empty, his gun belt and pistol wrapped around the waist of one of the Cheyenne.

  Mullins pulled the trigger of his cocked pistol. Fire and lead exploded from the barrel. One of the Indians, Black Feather, lurched with the impact of the bullet through his abdomen. His pony had started to turn away when Mullins fired again at the same warrior.

  “Don’t shoot,” Riggs yelled.

  Too late.

  Yellow Horse fired his rifle. The barrel was only a few inches from Riggs’s back. The bullet smashed into his backbone and he went rigid with paralysis.

  Riggs fell out of his saddle and skidded in the snow as his horse continued to move forward. He twitched several times, then lay still, his blood no longer spilling from his wounds.

  Kelso and Mullins both fired their pistols, but Yellow Horse and Silver Bear made their ponies zigzag as they rode.

  Kelso shot a bullet into Black Feather as the Indian kept coming toward him and Mullins. His bullet struck Black Feather in the neck, shredding the copper skin to pulp. The lead ball smashed the spine of the Cheyenne warrior. Black Feather’s body went rigid and he fell sideways from his pony. He landed with a muffled clump in the snow and lay still, blood spurting from his throat.

  Silver Bear and Yellow Horse rode off in different directions.

  Mullins fired after them. So did Kelso. Their bullets never connected to the two Cheyenne as their ponies dashed right and left with superb skill and dexterity.

  “Damn,” Mullins said.

  “We both missed,” Kelso said, his pistol smoking.

  “Those boys can ride,” Mullins said.

  “Should we chase after them?” Kelso asked.

  “Hell no. Let ’em go, the rascals. Besides, there may be others lurkin’ about.”

  “Sorry about Riggs. Tough way to die.”

  “All ways to die are tough,” Mullins said.

  “But to get it in the back like that. He didn’t have no chance.”

  “He let himself get caught by them redskins.”

  “Well, it could have been us,” Kelso said.

  “It wasn’t.”

  “I wonder if Homer . . .”

  “Oh, I’m sure Homer bought the farm too.”

  “That leaves only two of us. Can’t round up many cattle without the other two.”

  “We can steal enough to make it worth our while, Earl,” Mullins said.

  “How many head? A dozen? Two dozen?”

  “Maybe more. We’ll have to see.”

  “I think them Injuns was thinkin’ the same thing,” Kelso said.

  “Maybe. If so, they’ll run into not only our guns, but the guns of those cowhands on the trail.”

  “And so will we, for that matter. I don’t like it, Jasper. I don’t like it none. Just you and me against a whole bunch of herders. And maybe some redskins to boot.”

  “You worry too much. There’s plenty of time to catch up to that herd and cut out as many head as we can drive back to the spread. They won’t foller us. They’re thinkin’ to drive that herd to Cheyenne and they can’t stop for nothin’.”

  “What about Homer and Riggs? What should we do with ’em?”

  “Let ’em lie. Hell, we can’t bury nobody out here. We don’t have no shovels and likely the ground is frozen solid.”

  “Yeah. It’s a shame, though. Not to give those boys a decent burial.”

  “You’re too sentimental, Kelso. Dead is dead. Puttin’ them in the ground makes no difference to them. They’re plumb gone.”

  Kelso thought about it a moment, then nodded in agreement. He just thought of those dead bodies lying in the snow, cold and forgotten. Men who were breathing just a short time ago now had their lives taken away from them. And it could have been him that was killed, not to mention Mullins as well. Such was fate, he thought. He was alive, and two men he had known were now dead.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Mullins said. “Them redskins might come back.”

  “Yeah, they might,” Kelso said. He opened the gate to his pistol and used the plunger to eject the empty hulls of his cartridges. Then he stuffed fresh ones into the cylinders.

  Mullins saw him and did the same with his pistol. He could still smell the burned powder as he filled his magazine with fresh cartridges.

  Kelso holstered his pistol.

  “I’m ready when you are, Jasper,” he said.

  Mullins slid his pistol back in his holster. His gun belt had empty loops now.

  The two rode back on the track of the cattle herd. But they both kept looking back over their shoulders.

  Just in case.

  Chapter 35

  Lonnie rode drag once the herd had crossed the river. With him was the kid, Tommy, shivering like a dog spitting out peach seeds from its hind end.

  “You hear anything?” Lonnie asked Tommy.

  “Nope. Why?”

  “I thought I heard gunfire. Way off. Way down our back trail.”

  “I didn’t hear nothin’,” Tommy said.

  “Well, just the same, you keep your eyes peeled. We could have Injuns comin’ after the herd again.”

  Tommy looked behind, the river a thin ribbon on the horizon. Snow everywhere.

  “I don’t see nobody behind us,” he said.

  “Kid, you go find Reese and tell him I thought I heard gunshots on our back trail.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hurry,” Lonnie said. “They were far off, but that can’t be a good sign.”

  “I’m on my way,” Tommy said.

  He rode off, but the heavy snow slowed his horse. The cattle were having a rough time making progress on the churned-up mud and snow. He passed them and the other outriders on the flanks. They did not wave or acknowledge him.

  At the head of the herd, he found Johnny and Reese flanking the lead cow. The cow was struggling to break a path through the virgin snow and kept wanting to turn back. He was out of breath by the time he rode up to Reese.

  “Thought you was ridin’ drag with Lonnie,” Reese said. “What’s all the hurry?”

  “I—I was,” Tommy stammered. “I got somethin’ to tell you. Lonnie told me to tell you.”

  “Well, spit it out,” Reese said. “What did Lonnie want you to tell me?”

  “He said—he said he heard gunshots. Or thinks he did. Way far off on our back trail.”

  “That right? But he wasn’t sure?”

  “Pretty sure, Mr. Balleen.”

  Reese looked at Johnny. Johnny shrugged and continued to rag the lead cow to stay on the trail.

  “Maybe I’d better see what this is all about,” Reese said.

  “You go on, Reese,” Johnny said.
“I can handle it from here on out.”

  “I’ll take a flanker or two with me just in case,” Reese said.

  “The herd’s movin’ pretty good now. I don’t reckon there’ll be any strays for a while,” Johnny said.

  “It could be Lonnie’s imagination.”

  “Or he could have heard something,” Johnny said.

  “Yeah. Well, it won’t hurt to take a look on our back trail,” Reese said.

  “What do you want me to do?” Tommy asked.

  “You stay here and help Johnny,” Reese said.

  “Yes, sir,” Tommy said.

  Johnny snorted but did not say anything. His expression was one of disdain, but Tommy didn’t see it. He was trying to stay ahead of the herd and stay out of Johnny’s way at the same time.

  Reese rode toward the tail end of the herd. On the left flank was Calvin. Reese rode up to him.

  “What’s up, boss?” Calvin said.

  “Ride on back to where Lonnie’s ridin’ drag, Calvin,” Reese said.

  “What’s up?”

  “I don’t know. Did you hear any shots a while ago?”

  Calvin shook his head. “Nope. Just the cattle mushin’ through the snow, the usual grunts and groans.”

  “Ride on back with me, just in case.”

  “What? Lonnie heard gunshots?”

  “That’s what Tommy said.”

  “I saw the kid ride by in a hurry. I wondered what was goin’ on.”

  “Might be nothing.”

  “Well, Lonnie’s got good ears. But ridin’ drag like that, you can hear a lot of things in your head.”

  “I know,” Reese said. “But let’s check it out.”

  “I reckon there won’t be no strays just now,” Calvin said.

  “If there are, they won’t stray far in this snow,” Reese said.

  “Good point,” Calvin said. He rode alongside Reese to the rear end of the herd. There, Lonnie was doing his job, keeping the cows moving ahead of him.

  “Oh, glad you’re here, Reese,” Lonnie said.

  “You said you heard gunshots?” Reese asked.

  “I thought I heard somebody shooting. Long way off, though.”

  “Who do you think might be shooting? A hunter? Hunters?”

  Lonnie shook his head. “Didn’t sound like hunters to me. Hard to tell.”

  “Well, we can’t be too careful. We’ll just wait it out and see if anyone comes down that trail. The Cheyenne now have a couple of rifles they took off of dead white men.”

  “I know. But what would they be shooting at way back there?”

  “That’s a hard question,” Reese said. “And I don’t have an answer.”

  “So, what do we do?”

  “We’ll just have to wait and see if anyone rides up on us.”

  “Rustlers, maybe?” Lonnie said.

  “Maybe,” Reese replied. “If you really heard gunshots, that is.”

  “I’m almost sure of it. Far off, but I know a gunshot when I hear one.”

  “Rifle or pistol?”

  “Pistol maybe. Close together. Bang, bang.”

  “Well, it’s stopped snowing. We should be able to tell if anyone comes up to rustle our cattle. White or red.”

  “Yeah, we should,” Lonnie said.

  They rode along behind the herd for a few moments. Then a rider appeared and called out to them.

  “Hold it right there, Lonnie,” Kelso shouted.

  Lonnie reined up. So did Reese and Calvin. They all stared at the stranger riding to them from the right of the trail.

  “That’s Kelso,” Lonnie said to Reese. “Wonder what he’s doing here.”

  “I don’t know,” Reese said, “but he looks like a damn rustler to me.”

  Lonnie’s hand darted for his pistol.

  Kelso beat him to it.

  “Leave it holstered, Lonnie,” Kelso said as he drew his pistol.

  Calvin, Reese, and Lonnie heard Kelso thumb the hammer back to full cock.

  “What in hell are you doing, Kelso?” Lonnie asked.

  “You’ll see,” Kelso said as he rode closer. He was still forty or fifty yards away when they heard another horse ride up behind them from the left side of the herd.

  “Just hold steady,” Mullins said. “I’m going to cut out a few head and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Like hell,” Reese said.

  Mullins drew his pistol as he and his cutting horse sliced into the herd, separating some twenty head from the rest of the cattle.

  “Best to do what he says,” Kelso said. He held up his horse about thirty yards from the cattlemen.

  Reese drew his pistol. He cocked it on the rise and aimed it at Kelso.

  Kelso fired at him, his .45 spewing golden sparks and smoke from the barrel. The lead projectile whizzed over Reese’s head as he ducked and fired.

  Missed.

  Kelso fired again. But his horse twisted sideways and his shot went wild.

  Lonnie drew his pistol.

  Mullins fired a shot at Calvin. Calvin was slow to draw, but finally he too had his pistol in hand. Cocked and ready to fire. He tried to get a bead on Mullins, but the rustler reined his horse into a zigzag. Mullins fired off another shot, which whizzed past Calvin’s face.

  Calvin fired his pistol at Mullins.

  Kelso fired again, but his horse acted up and his shot was wide of its target, Lonnie.

  Lonnie spurred his horse to charge at Kelso.

  Kelso cocked his pistol and raised his arm to shoot at Lonnie.

  Lonnie fired from ten yards away and his bullet smashed into Kelso’s chest with the force of a sledgehammer.

  Kelso caved in but held on to his saddle horn. Blood spurted from his chest and bubbled up out of his mouth.

  Lonnie cocked his pistol again and reined up his horse about five feet from Kelso. He took aim and shot Kelso in the throat.

  Kelso made a gurgling sound. His pistol slipped from his hand. Then he fell backward and tumbled from his saddle. He landed in the snow with a crunch, blood still spurting from his neck.

  Lonnie whirled his horse to go after Mullins.

  Calvin fired his pistol at Mullins.

  Mullins was a superb horseman and he twisted the animal through the herd with precision.

  Calvin’s shot seared the air behind Mullins.

  Mullins twisted in the saddle and fired blindly at the three cowmen.

  Reese tracked the outlaw with his pistol. He led him just enough and squeezed the trigger. The .45 bucked in his hand, but his aim was true.

  His bullet plowed into Mullins’s left arm and ripped into a lung. Blood spurted from his arm and lung.

  Reese fired again from twenty feet away.

  Mullins turned to look at him, a surprised expression on his face. Then his features contorted in pain as Reese fired again and the bullet smashed into Mullins’s neck. Blood spurted from the wound and Mullins jerked from the impact. His pistol slipped from his grip and tumbled into the snow and mud. He fell out of the saddle and landed with a loud thump in the snow.

  Reese whirled around to scan both sides of the herd.

  “Any more like them?” he asked Lonnie.

  “Them’s all I seen,” Lonnie said.

  Calvin looked around for any more cattle rustlers too.

  “Just them two,” he said. “Looks like anyways.”

  Reese sucked in a deep breath.

  “That’s odd,” he said. “Just two rustlers. Fools.”

  “Maybe there was more of ’em,” Lonnie said as he ejected the empty shells from the cylinder of his pistol.

  “What do you mean?” Reese asked.

  “Them shots I heard. Maybe there was more of ’em and somebody thinned ’em out.”


  “But who?” Calvin asked as he reloaded his pistol.

  “Maybe Injuns,” Lonnie said.

  Reese looked at him sharply.

  “By damn, you may be right, Lonnie,” Reese said. “I don’t think these are the only men looking to steal my cattle. There’re still Silver Bear and his band.”

  “Well, if so, then we still have more trouble on the way,” Lonnie said. He inserted fresh cartridges into his pistol.

  “Damn,” Calvin uttered.

  Reese reloaded his Colt .45 and looked down their back trail. Wondering. He wondered if there had been more cattle rustlers and they had run into the Cheyenne.

  Right now it was the only thing that made sense.

  He spoke to Lonnie and Calvin.

  “Get their rifles and pistols,” he said. “No need to hand over more firepower and ammunition to the redskins in case they are still after my cattle.”

  He watched as both Lonnie and Calvin dismounted, walked to the two dead men, and stripped them of their gun belts.

  “Calvin, you lead their horses up to the feed wagon. We’ll add them to the remuda.”

  “Yes, sir,” Calvin said. “Boy, that was some shoot-out, Reese.”

  “It was. We were lucky. Those two meant business.”

  “I’ll say they did,” Lonnie said. “We were damn lucky. Kelso was a killer. I don’t know about the other feller, but he was probably the boss of a gang of thieves.”

  “You’re probably right, Lonnie. That one knew what he was doing.”

  Lonnie rifled through Mullins’s pockets. He pulled out a piece of paper.

  “His name was Jasper Mullins,” he said to Reese. “I’ve heard the name, back in Denver. He was a bad one.”

  “What you got there, Lonnie?” Reese asked.

  “Bill of sale for the property.”

  “Keep it,” Reese said. “It won’t do him any good now.”

  “Might make one of us a pretty good spread,” Lonnie said.

  Calvin caught up the two horses that were ridden by Mullins and Kelso.

  “I’ll stay here with Lonnie, Calvin,” Reese said. “When you deliver those two horses to the boys with the remuda, you hightail it back here. We might need your gun again.”

  “Yes, sir, Cap,” Calvin said as he led the two horses along a line flanking the herd.