“You think Hamilton will resort to stealing?” she asked. “You practically accused him of that when he was here.”
“Hamilton is a snake,” he said. “He got the little ranch he has by running off a sodbuster at gunpoint.”
“I didn’t know that,” she said. “How do you know about that?”
“Fellow in town told me,” he said. “Man name of Elves had a small spread west of Cheyenne. He was tryin’ to grow winter wheat and make a livin’. Hamilton run him off with some hired guns, and just took over his property.”
“How awful.”
“That’s why I don’t trust Hamilton to play fair. He might want to see me foreclosed on. Or he might just shoot the both of us and grab the deed from the bank for peanuts.”
“You can’t let that happen, Chip,” she said.
“No, I can’t,” he said. “And I won’t. When those cattle get here, I’m going to try and sell some of them in Fort Laramie. That way I can pay off this mortgage.”
“But what if Hamilton still wants to get the Flying U?”
“Fire with fire,” Chip said. “We’ll fight for this ranch, me and my hands. He’ll never get the Flying U. Not even over my dead body.”
“Let’s pray that won’t happen. And pray that the herd from up north gets here soon.”
“Yeah. Before that beaver moon.”
She began to carry away the coffee cups while Chip walked to the front window and looked out over his property.
The ranch meant everything to him. He had big plans for it after Reese delivered the herd.
The problem now was that he didn’t have the money to pay Reese. His own herd had been depleted and his pockets were empty.
A wave of sadness overcame him as he thought about his predicament.
How do you pay for something you badly need so that you can pay for something you already have but are about to lose?
For now, Chip had no answer.
Chapter 47
Reese knew that he had to find water for his herd. He had only ridden through this country two or three times before. He knew there were streams here and there but could not remember exactly where.
The cattle were complaining with their loud and grumbling noises, and the horses were not faring much better.
The chuck wagon was slow over the rough ground because Checkers still had that lead cow in tow. He had not yet butchered it because, for the time being, his meat larder was full.
Reese knew he had to find water. So he whistled for Tommy to ride up to him from the rear flank.
“Yes, sir,” Tommy said. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes. I’ve got an important job for you. And I don’t want you to get lost. You still have that compass?”
“Yes, sir, I still got it.”
“Good. I want you to ride way ahead of the herd and find us a creek or a river that’s near our trail. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure can, sir. I’ll try. Just ride ahead of the herd and find a creek or a river.”
“Way ahead of the herd. Then ride back when you’ve found some water. Might be just a tank. A natural water collector. Ought to be something out there.”
“I’ll look real hard,” Tommy said.
“Get to it, then,” Reese said.
Tommy saluted and rode off alongside the herd until he disappeared in the distance.
Reese slipped his bandanna from around his throat and covered his mouth and nose. The cattle were kicking up scrims of dust, and he was breathing every grain, it seemed.
Two hours later, Tommy rode up. He looked worn out. His shirt was soaked with sweat and his face had a sheen to it from perspiration.
“I found a creek,” Tommy blurted out in a rush of breathless expulsion of words from his mouth. “And that ain’t all.”
“Get your breath and then tell me, Tommy,” Reese said. “How far ahead is this creek and what else did you find?”
“Well, sir,” Tommy said, after catching his breath, “they’s a little creek, just as purty as you please, and some Injuns camped right by it, big old teepees and kids half-starved, women skinny as rails. Big chief there speaks English pretty good.”
“You talked to him?” Reese asked.
“Yep, sure did. His name is Red Beaver and he’s a Blackfoot. They’re all Blackfoot, I reckon.”
“What did you tell him?” Reese asked.
“I told him we was drivin’ a herd down to Cheyenne and the cattle and horses was thirsty. He said we were welcome. Or that was the gist of it, I reckon.”
“How far is this creek?” Reese asked.
“About four or five miles. Real easy to find and it’s right on the trail, accordin’ to my compass.”
“That’s good news, son,” Reese said. “You done good.”
“Yeah, I could hear these cows a-moain’ and carryin’ on for more’n a mile when I rode back here.”
“Did those Blackfeet seem friendly?”
“Yep. Red Beaver was the head man, and he was right friendly. So were the kids. They only got three teepees and maybe two other braves, a couple of women, and three little kids. They look like they’re starvin’. I could see the ribs on the men and the kids. Women had on dresses, but they was all real skinny, looked like.”
“I wonder why there are Blackfoot Injuns this far away from Fort Laramie.”
“I don’t know,” Tommy said. “I didn’t ask.”
“Well, I will,” Reese said.
“What do you want me to do now, Mr. Balleen?”
“Tommy, call me Reese, damn it. I’ve told you before. We’re not formal out here and I ain’t wearin’ a tuxedo.”
“No, sir, uh, Reese.”
“You stay here and ride flank,” Reese said. “I’m going to catch up with Checkers and tell him you found us a creek.”
“He’s goin’ real slow, Mr., uh, Reese. Just a-tuggin’ that ornery cow behind him.”
“I know,” Reese said. He rode off, leaving Tommy to ride flank. He caught up with Checkers and rode alongside him.
“What brings you up here?” Checkers asked as Reese pulled up next to where he sat in the driver’s seat, next to Louella, who waved and tightened the light scarf that framed her face.
“Water ahead. A creek. Four miles maybe. The kid found it for us.”
“I was expectin’ a crick about now,” Checkers said.
“Some Blackfoot Injuns there too,” Reese said.
“I hope they’re not on the warpath.”
“Seems like they’re friendly, so the kid says.”
“Good. I hate fightin’ so early in the day.”
“That cow back there is still fightin’ to get away,” Reese said. “When are you going to butcher her?”
“Not right yet,” Checkers said. “My meat locker is plumb full. And now that we’ve lost some men along the way, it’s not goin’ down so fast.”
“I understand.”
“I hate draggin’ that cow behind me,” Checkers said. “Slows me down somethin’ terrible. Like I got an anchor on my prairie schooner.”
Reese laughed. “This wagon ain’t no schooner, Checkers. More like a whaleboat.”
Checkers and Louella both laughed.
“Well, it gets me there,” Checkers said.
Reese touched a single finger to his hat in farewell. Then he blew a kiss at Louella, who smiled and blew one back.
Checkers watched Reese ride off until he was out of sight. Then he heard a prairie chicken drum with his powerful wings.
“What’s that?” Louella asked.
“Prairie chicken. And that’s a good sign.”
“How come?” she asked.
“Means there’re water and grass. Usually don’t find them chickens this far west. More of ’em in Kansas and Nebraska.”
“So the horses will be able to drink soon,” she said. “And that cow back there.”
“I hope she drowns,” Checkers said in an attempt to be funny.
Louella did not laugh.
Chapter 48
Reese saw the teepees first. They stood stark against the sky like old bones.
He rode up on the Blackfoot camp at a slow pace, prepared for any eventuality. He did not think there would be trouble since Tommy had said the Indians were friendly. But with a redskin, you just never knew.
There were three teepees. Their lodge poles crisscrossed the blue sky. There was no smoke. As Reese approached, he saw movement.
The children were the first to see him. They all ran inside their lodges. Women came out and stared at him. Then, from behind one of the teepees, Reese saw one man, then another, until three Blackfoot came into view.
They looked curious, not warlike.
Reese raised his right hand, palm facing the men on the ground.
One of them raised his right hand in the universal sign of piece. The flat of the hand showed all that he held no weapon.
Nor were the faces of any of the Blackfeet painted.
Another good sign, Reese thought.
“How cola,” Reese said as he rode in close.
“You speak the words of the Lakota,” one of the men said. “But I know the tongue.”
“Only Injun words I know,” Reese said.
“I speak your tongue. I am Red Beaver. I am Blackfoot. You are the man with the cattle.”
“Yes. I’m driving a herd of cattle to Cheyenne.”
“The boy tells me that is so,” Red Beaver said.
“We do not mean you any harm,” Reese said. “We will water our cows and horses, then move on to the south.”
Reese noticed the bare chests of the three men. He could see their ribs beneath the skin. The women wore buckskin dresses that concealed much of their flesh. Their dresses were beaded just below the shoulders. So were their moccasins.
The men wore unadorned moccasins and buckskin britches that bore marks of grease and other liquids. There were fringes on their britches.
“Come, if you have tobacco we will smoke the pipe,” Red Beaver said. He made the sign of a man dismounting a horse. A sign that Reese knew. Red Beaver straddled his left index finger with two fingers on his right hand and then showed one of them crossing over and walking away.
Reese swung out of the saddle.
“I have no tobacco, but some of my men do. When they come, we can smoke.”
“Good,” Red Beaver said.
Reese extended his hand.
Red Beaver closed his hand over it.
“I know,” the Blackfoot said, “this is the way the white man greets another.”
The two shook hands. The other two braves looked on approval.
Red Beaver was lean and his skin was dark with a reddish tinge. His long black hair was braided and hung down his back. He wore a single eagle’s feather in his hair. The other two did not have feathers, but they too had their hair braided and tied with thongs. They looked younger than Red Beaver.
Red Beaver saw Reese looking at the other two men. He stepped back and waved a hand at them.
“These are my sons,” he told Reese. “That one is called Blue Mouse and that one is called Red Deer.”
“Why are you not at the fort?” Reese asked.
“We were at the fort, the one you call Laramie. But the agent there stole our food and our white man’s clothes.”
“The Indian agent?” Reese asked.
Red Beaver nodded. “A very bad man. He sells the food the army gives to us and he spends it on firewater. We were hungry, so we left the fort to hunt the buffalo. But there are no buffalo. Only the antelope and they are hard to catch. We have only our bows and they do not shoot the arrows far.”
Reese thought that was quite a long speech for an Indian. But Red Beaver spoke English very well. And he seemed to know a lot of words.
Reese was impressed.
“You speak English right good,” he said to Red Beaver. “How come?”
“I was scout for army. I listen and I learn.”
“I am wondering if we will find more creeks like this one as we journey to Cheyenne,” Reese said.
“Many creeks,” Red Beaver said. “Much water. Much grass.”
“Are you hungry, Red Beaver?”
Red Beaver rubbed a hand across the flat of his stomach.
“Much hunger,” he said.
“The buffalo are all gone,” Reese said.
“Yes. The white man killed all the buffalo. They take the hide and leave the meat to spoil. Will you sell me one or two of your cows so that my sons and our wives and children can eat?”
“Do you have money?” Reese asked.
“No, we do not have money. We have two beaver skins and some beaded moccasins. We will trade, no?”
Reese shook his head.
“If you will guide us to water and to Cheyenne, I will give you two cows,” Reese said.
Red Beaver thought about the proposition for a moment. Then he smiled.
“I will guide you for two cows,” he said. “Cheyenne is not far and my people will eat. You will feed me on the trail?”
“Yes, I’ll feed you. The cattle will be here soon. They will drink. I have a big cow behind a wagon that I will give you and you may pick out another for your family.”
“That is good,” Red Beaver said. He shook Reese’s hand again.
Then he turned and spoke to his sons in the Blackfoot language. He also spoke in sign language.
A woman peeked out of a teepee.
Red Beaver spoke to her in a loud tone of voice. The woman came out and two others emerged from two separate teepees. Then the little children came outside and stared at the white man as they hid behind their mothers.
Red Beaver spoke to all of them in his native tongue. The women smiled and curtsied. The children rubbed their tummies and licked their lips.
“They have much hunger,” Red Beaver said.
“They will eat soon,” Reese said. “In fact, I can hear our herd now.”
He turned and saw Checkers ahead of the herd, driving his horses hard.
“There is your first cow, Red Beaver,” Reese said. “Behind that wagon. I will give it to you, but I will keep my rope.”
“I will take the cow.”
Reese looked at the small creek. It had plenty of water in it and ran fast across the prairie. It was a good watering place for his cattle.
Checkers rumbled up and stopped near the three teepees. He looked at Reese as if surprised to see him standing there, surrounded by several Indians.
“Checkers,” Reese said. “You don’t have to pull that cow no more. I gave it to Red Beaver here. He’s going to guide us to Cheyenne.”
“Well, I’ll be dad-blamed,” Checkers said. He smiled. “Reese, you are a kindhearted man.”
“I know,” Reese said.
Louella laughed.
“I want to see the children,” she said.
“Climb down,” Reese told her. “They’re harmless and right friendly.”
“I can see that,” she said as she climbed out of the wagon.
The women and children laughed and grinned as the white woman walked over to them.
The Blackfeet women plucked at Louella’s clothes and one of them pinched her cheek as if to see if she was human. They all laughed and so did Louella.
“Don’t get too friendly, Lou,” Reese said. “You can’t stay here.”
She laughed. “Oh, it’s just so nice to see other women after riding with Checkers for so many miles.”
The two hugged and the Blackfeet women clapped their hands and looked on in approval.
Checkers
climbed down from the wagon and untied the lead cow and the braves swarmed up and ring-necked the cow.
“Get my rope, Checkers,” Reese said. “Then let them have that cow.”
“Gladly,” Checkers said. He removed the rope, and the two young men pulled the cow behind the teepees and out of sight.
One of them had drawn a knife from a beaded scabbard hanging from his waist sash.
Two of the women vanished behind the teepees. A third went inside one of the lodges and emerged with a large knife.
“Well, that takes care of my problem,” Checkers said. “They don’t waste no time, do they?”
Reese nodded.
Then, over the horizon, came the cattle herd. The smell of water had them on the run.
“Look out,” Reese said to Red Beaver, “here comes the herd.”
Red Beaver looked at the oncoming cows and smiled.
“They are pretty cows,” he said.
“And you can pick out another one for your family,” Reese said.
“I will take a big one.”
The herd separated and streamed past the teepees and the three Blackfoot ponies, which were staked in between the small circle of teepees. The cattle lined up at the banks of the creek and began to drink.
The hands watered their horses as Chuck drove the feed wagon in close, followed by the remuda on ropes behind him, tethered in a straight line on two long lariats.
Tommy rode in to where Reese was standing with Red Beaver.
“Boy, them cows are sure thirsty,” he said.
“Better water your horse,” Reese said.
He watched as all the cattle line up and slurped water from the creek.
It had turned out, he thought, to be a very good day on a long trail.
Louella hugged him and he hugged her.
“It’s wonderful to see them all drink,” she said.
“Best sight I’ve seen all day,” Reese said. He squeezed her and she looked up and smiled at him.
“I think,” she said, “this is the happiest day I’ve had on this drive.”
“Yes, hon. For me too.”
He looked past the creek and up to the sky. The blue canopy seemed to stretch on forever. And beyond it, he knew, there was Cheyenne and the Flying U.
Ralph Compton The Cheyenne Trail Page 21