A River of Horns

by Peter Grant

  While the ranch made its preparations, Sam Davis did the same at the newly established depot near the fort. He’d dispatched three dozen empty wagons to Pueblo the previous month, including the six double units, to collect poles, beams, rafters and planks to construct barns and warehouses at the depot and the ranch. They would make several return trips that summer, bringing more building material for sale to the Army, and to businesses and residents near the fort. Since there were as yet no other suppliers, they could charge premium prices for them. Over the winter, at least a dozen more settlers had staked properties in or near the informal settlement near the fort. All were planning to buy them as soon as the surveyors filed their plats with the state land office. Tyler had promised to buy the depot site for Ames Transport at the same time he bought the land for the Circle CAR.

  All the rest of the cargoes sent down by Walt were unloaded into storerooms at the ranch and the depot. The drive to Dodge City would take less than three weeks, so supplies for that period were sorted out and reloaded into three freight wagons, which would accompany three chuckwagons. The remaining two chuckwagons were stripped of their cooking gear and accessories, which were transferred to the Circle CAR kitchen, and reverted to their original function as transport wagons. The same would be done to the other three when their herds arrived at Dodge City. The new horse-drawn chuckwagon and bedroll wagon Tyler had bought in New Mexico would serve the ranch in future.

  Sam retained two of the oldest, most worn-out freight wagons for use at the depot, and assigned two more to the Circle CAR. They would not stand up much longer to the stress of heavily-laden long-distance freight drives, but could still provide useful service on lighter-loaded runs such as local deliveries, or removing dung and straw from the stables and corrals and dumping it a safe distance away. They were really too large to be used for such purposes, but they were already paid for, and their ox teams could feed themselves on the local grass without needing additional grain. Both factors made keeping them much more affordable. The other empty wagons would be sent to Dodge City along with the cattle, to collect freight for the Army and orders for the Circle CAR, and bring it back to the Panhandle.

  When he heard Sam’s plan, Tyler improved on it. “Let’s buy us a couple of plows,” he suggested. “The ox teams from the wagons can pull ’em. We’ll plow under all the dung an’ straw from our stables an’ barns, and fertilize the soil. After a couple years of doin’ that, we should have the best gardening beds in the Panhandle. Walt’s friend Pablo can find us some Mexican farm hands, and Walt can send seeds and saplings. We’ll grow fresh fruit an’ vegetables, use some ourselves, an’ make a mint sellin’ the rest to the Army an’ the settlers.”

  While the cowhands continued to sort through the cattle, Tyler and Nate rode all over the Circle CAR’s land, looking for areas that needed improvement. They settled on eight remote sites where wells could be drilled, Halladay windmills erected, and water tanks set up to cater to cattle who were some distance from the river. Tyler would investigate the availability of a wagon-based drilling rig in Dodge City, and place the necessary orders. Locations for line cabins were selected near each well site, to shelter hands who would patrol the remoter reaches of the ranch. They would also keep the windmills and pumps greased and in good working order. Nate and the hands would start building the cabins out of adobe, posts and thatch while Tyler was in Dodge City. Each would have two double bunks, a stove, cooking and eating utensils, a supply of canned and dry food, and a small corral and lean-to shelter for the cowhands’ mounts.

  They sat down together to plan the final cattle drives. A total of 1,124 mavericks had been rounded up and branded by the floating outfit throughout the Panhandle over the past few months, offset against a loss of another 329 cattle to various causes, including feeding the hands in the absence of enough game animals. That gave a total herd size of 15,528 animals, better than the number with which they had left New Mexico the previous year. Tyler couldn’t hold back a self-satisfied smile at the figure.

  Nate congratulated him warmly. “They do say the mark of a true trail boss is that he feeds his cowhands beef all the way, loses some steers to wind, weather and Mother Nature, and still arrives with a bigger herd than when he started. I guess that makes you a trail boss, Tyler.” He held out his hand, and Tyler shook it.

  They turned to the division of the cattle. A total of 6,394 head had been driven south of the river. Most were breeding cows, along with a hundred bulls, plus more than a thousand smaller steers that needed another year’s growth before they would fetch worthwhile prices at the railhead. That left 9,134 head to drive to Dodge City, divided into three herds of just over 3,000 animals each.

  “Will they bring enough money to pay for everything we need?” Nate asked.

  “Depends on how much they fetch. I plan to move them real slowly, lettin’ them fatten up on the new spring grass. We’re in a good position right now, because most ranches are only just startin’ their spring roundups. It’ll take them two or three more weeks to finish them, road-brand their herds, hire extra trail hands, and get movin’, but we’ve already done all that. Most won’t hit the trail until late April or early May. By then we’ll be in Dodge City, so we should get the best prices of the year.”

  Nate nodded. “Here’s hopin’ you’re right. We’ll hold down the place while you’re gone. The ranch hands will sure be lookin’ forward to gettin’ the balance o’ their wages an’ their bonuses when you get back. Trouble is, there ain’t much to spend it on here. I reckon they’ll want some time off to go enjoy themselves. What do you plan to do about that?”

  “That’s why I’ve hired a big ranch crew. We’ve got enough hands that we can afford to send a quarter of them at a time to Dodge City, or mebbe up to Cimarron in New Mexico, or down to Fort Griffin, to see the elephant an’ have a good time. After a couple of weeks, they’ll crawl back here nursin’ achin’ heads and empty wallets, and the next batch can head out.” They exchanged grins. “I’ll take some time off in Dodge City. I’ve got to head down to Austin with the surveyors’ plats to buy our land as soon as I get back, so I’ll ask you to stay on here while I’m doin’ that. I’ll take a few days on the way back to visit my ranch near Gainesville, an’ make sure all’s well there. As soon as I get back, you can take a few weeks off and go wherever you like. Should I bring your money back with me, or deposit it for you in Dodge City?”

  “I’ve got a personal account with Wells, Fargo. Walt’s kept the bank book safe while I’ve been on this drive. He’ll pay my bonus into it. If you’ll give him half my Circle CAR wages an’ bonus, he’ll deposit them into the same account, then give you the bank book to bring back to me. I’d like the rest of my money in gold, if you don’t mind bringin’ it back with you.”

  Tyler stretched. “Sure, I’ll do that. Also, let’s figure out what furniture we want in our headquarters an’ livin’ quarters, and in the bunkhouse. We’ve already got enough for the cookhouse, thanks to Walt equippin’ the chuckwagons so well. I’ll order it in Dodge City, and Sam can bring it back here in his wagons. The ranch’ll pay for it, o’ course.”

  “Good idea. I’ll make a list.”

  An Army cavalry patrol passed through the ranch the following day, led by a grizzled sergeant. He paused at the headquarters building to pay his respects, and Tyler invited him and his men to overnight near one of the herds. “We’ve got some damned fine cooks and real good grub, and it’s no problem to make extra for you, iffen we give the cook a couple hours’ notice.”

  “I’m thankin’ you,” the NCO said gratefully. “Your ranch hands sure do live high on the hog for cowboys. Every time we pass here at mealtime, the smell o’ good food drives us nuts!”

  “Why not ask the Major to build a small adobe barracks here for you, with a corral or stable for your horses?” Tyler inquired. “You could put it up over there,” indicating a clear patch of ground beyond the bunkhouse, “and all of your patrols comin’ this way could use it, summer
or winter. You’ll have to bring your own rations, o’ course, but we can mix ’em with our own food an’ cook for everyone, which should taste better.”

  “Danged if that ain’t a good idea! You’re about thirty-five miles north o’ the fort, so this is a good place for a way station. I’ll pass it up the chain o’ command an’ see what they say.”

  “Come on into the office, and I’ll write to Major Bankhead about it.”

  While Tyler scribbled a note, the sergeant looked around the office, which was as yet sparsely equipped with rough, homemade furniture. He asked, “Are the guns spares?”

  Tyler glanced at the rifle rack, knocked together out of planks and set against the wall. Shelves beneath the guns held boxes of ammunition. “In a manner o’ speakin’. We ran into a bunch o’ bandidos down in New Mexico. Killed their boss an’ took the guns off the rest of ’em. This close to the Indian Nations, I figure it’ll be good to have a reserve supply o’ guns on hand, just in case. These will serve until I can buy new Winchesters in Dodge City, an’ a proper gun rack. Once they get here, I’ll give these to Sam for his teamsters to use.”

  The sergeant nodded slowly. “I hope you never need ’em, but you might. The Comanche an’ Kiowa took a whuppin’ over the last two years, but there’s still some bad-hat braves who hate all whites an’ figure to quit the reservation anytime they please, to do some raidin’. Good thing you’re prepared for ’em.”

  Tyler frowned. “Yeah. That’s why my hands go armed an’ ride in pairs, just in case. What’s happenin’ in the Indian Nations these days? I’m about to take nine thousand head o’ cattle to Dodge City, and I’m hopin’ we’ll have a peaceful trip.”

  “You should, ’cause it’s real early in the trail drivin’ season. The Injuns won’t be set up yet to make the drives pay toll for passin’ through their land. Come May, they’ll be waitin’ for every drive, an’ they’ll want money or cows to let ’em through. O’ course, they’ve got a legal right to do that – it’s their land, after all – but some o’ them act like they’re lookin’ for trouble while they do it. If I was you, I’d ask Major Bankhead for an escort through Injun Territory. We patrol there anyways, so it won’t be a big stretch to patrol next to your herds instead o’ somewhere else.” He winked.

  “I’ll add that to this note.” Tyler wrote for a few more moments, then set down his pen, blew the ink dry, and folded the paper. “Here you are. Please give this to the Major. Now, let’s head up the slope and find the nearest herd. I’ve gotta do my rounds, and I may as well ride with you. Sorry I ain’t got no more condensed milk or canned fruit to give you.”

  The Sergeant rolled his eyes, a fond grin on his face as he remembered their Christmas feast. “Suh, I reckon we ain’t had a Christmas that good since I joined the cavalry!”

  Tyler made a mental note to mention that to Walt. His partner would doubtless be pleased to know how well his gifts had been received.

  By the end of March, all was ready. Thirty-six cowhands, two wranglers and two cooks, including Tyler’s cook from his Gainesville ranch, had signed on with the Circle CAR. They lounged around, poking fun at their comrades as the trail hands made their preparations for the last drive to the railhead.

  Tyler called his trail crews together for the last time. “Remember, slow an’ easy does it,” he reminded them. “The cattle are in good shape right now, and I want ’em in even better shape when they reach Dodge. I want the cattle buyers to line up an’ salute when they see our cows, and pay us lots an’ lots o’ money for ’em!” Laughter from the cowhands.

  “You’ve got a week to get everything together while we wait for the Army to send its first patrol. They’ll ride with each herd from here, through the Indian Nations, to where the Western Trail crosses the Kansas border. That should help avoid Injun trouble.

  “The herds will leave at two-day intervals, to separate them on the trail and give time for the holdin’ pens at Dodge to move one herd out afore the next comes in. I’ll go with the first herd, and ride ahead when we get close to Dodge, to make sure everything’s in hand. Each herd should follow a different track to the herd before it, so as to have fresh grass for the cows. If a herd hits a problem, send word back to the next herd about it, so they’re warned in time to avoid it.”

  He looked around. “All set?”

  There was a rumble of agreement.

  “Then next week, we’ll point ’em north and move ’em out!”

  16

  April 1876

  As the train pulled into Dodge City, the first impression Walt and Dan received was an overwhelming odor of decay. Stacks of buffalo hides, as tall as a man’s head, were clustered along the railroad line, awaiting loading. They had been merely sun-dried, not properly cured or tanned. That would be done in factories in the East, where the hides would be turned into industrial-grade leather to make conveyor belts and other necessities. Meanwhile, the stench of dead flesh was all-pervasive.

  Dan wrinkled his nose. “Dang, boss, that stinks!”

  Walt grinned. “Just wait until it’s trail drive season. See all those empty shipping pens for cattle? Imagine them full of dung after a few weeks’ worth of trail drives. I’m not sure they won’t smell worse than the hides.”

  A passing conductor chimed in, “Don’t forget, that’s the smell o’ money, right there, and so’s cattle dung. Besides, them piles is small. Year or two back, they were three, four times as high. Millions o’ dollars are spent here every year, bringin’ hides in and shippin’ ’em out.”

  After he’d gone on his way, Dan said softly, so as not to be overheard, “I sure hope some of that money’s gonna stick to our fingers on its way through!”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  They got off the train and began to walk out of the station, only to come to a halt before a prominently placed sign reading, “The Carrying of Fire Arms Strictly Prohibited”.

  “We might be in trouble if we walk out like this, boss,” Dan said, glancing at the Smith & Wesson Russian Model revolver holstered at Walt’s right side, then down at the Colt Single Action Army revolver in a cross-draw holster on his own belt.

  “Let’s put ’em in our holdalls for now, and go see the town marshal,” Walt suggested.

  They did so, and took a horse-drawn cab to the marshal’s office. Dan held the cab while Walt went inside. He approached the first man wearing a badge that he saw.

  “Hi. I’m Walt Ames, out of Pueblo in Colorado. I just got into town.”

  The lawman offered his hand. “I’m Bat Masterson. I’m a deputy for the county sheriff, Charles Bassett.”

  “What’s this about no guns allowed to be carried? I’m here to sell cattle, and buy a site for a freight depot for my company, Ames Transport. I’m going to be carrying thousands of dollars, maybe tens of thousands, from time to time. I don’t like the thought o’ havin’ to do that without a gun.”

  Masterson shook his head. “I wouldn’t like to, either. That ordinance is mostly to stop rowdy cowhands an’ buffler hunters from shootin’ up the place. Come an’ talk to the city marshal, Larry Deger. Let’s see what he says.”

  The town marshal was an enormous man by the standards of the day. Walt mentally estimated that he weighed close to 300 pounds. The marshal shook hands as Masterson introduced them, then listened as Walt explained his predicament.

  “I can’t let you carry a gun openly without havin’ to do the same for other visitors,” he pointed out at last. “That’d cause more problems than it’d solve.”

  “But if I carry it concealed, in a shoulder holster?” Walt asked.

  “That might work. I’ll give you written permission to do that. Just remember, if you have to use it, put it back real quick, then wait for the law to arrive, with that letter already in your hand. You don’t want them shootin’ at you, thinkin’ you’re the bad man.”

  Walt grinned. “That would sure spoil my day. Thanks, marshal. I appreciate your help.”

  He waited while the letter wa
s written, and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket. He shook hands with the two lawmen, then went back out to the cab and told the driver to take them to the best hotel in town. As they rode, he told Dan what had happened. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get two of these letters. If you need to carry a lot of money, call me, and I’ll walk with you.”

  “I’ll do that, boss.”

  Walt was prepared for trouble at the hotel when he asked for two rooms. In many parts of the country, blacks and Mexicans were not welcome at hotels doing business mainly with whites. However, in Dodge City, cowhands and trail bosses of all races were so frequently encountered as to have become part of normal daily life, so there were no difficulties apart from a couple of sidelong glances.

  Once settled into his room, Walt used the hotel’s bathhouse to rid himself of the dirt and smell of five days’ travel aboard steam-engined trains. He was amused at the number of cinders that washed out of his hair, floating on the bath water. They had blown into the carriage through its open windows. He was confident that most of the passengers were now, or soon would be, doing what he was. Returning to his room, he dressed in clean clothing, and put his dirty clothes in the hamper for the hotel laundry.

  He took another Smith & Wesson Russian Model revolver from his holdall, its barrel shortened and its action tuned by Carlos Gove’s gunsmith in Denver. Strapping on a shoulder holster, he inserted the revolver, and adjusted them until the gun was visible only as a slight bulge beneath the left side of his city-style high-breasted jacket, which had been cut to help conceal it. He made sure to put the Marshal’s letter in his right inside pocket.