Man Called Ty

by Dicksion, William Wayne

  “Stories like this are told all throughout the South these days. Carpetbaggers are moving in, taking advantage of the devastated people. We’ve gotta try to understand that not all Yankees are like that. The Yankees made the mistake of believing that all Southerners were slave owners. We must not make a similar mistake by believing that all Northerners are carpetbaggers. It’ll take a long time for the wounds to heal, but we must put this war behind us.”

  “I agree, and I would like to return home some day, but I’m afraid that the wounds of war will not heal in my lifetime. I’ll just have to make a new life here on the plains.”

  “Get your stuff,” Sam said. “You can spend the night in the bunkhouse, and we’ll start rounding up the herd tomorrow. We can get to the ranch in time for supper if we ride now.”

  “Won’t Pete and Curly be sleeping in that bunk house?”

  “Yeah, they’ll be there, but they’re smart enough to know that you could have killed them and didn’t. I don’t think you have anything to worry about where they’re concerned.”

  “I’ll get my horses and meet you here,” Ty called over his shoulder as he walked out.

  “I’ll pay the bartender,” Sam replied. As he was paying, he heard a command from in front of the saloon.

  * * *

  “Hold it right there!”

  Sam looked through the still swinging bar room doors and saw a Union major and three soldiers. Ty stood with his back to them. Several men in the saloon joined Sam at the doorway.

  “How did you find me?” Ty asked without turning around.

  “It took some doing, but I knew you would have to cross the Mississippi on a boat or a ferry,” the major replied. “We watched all the ferries. You didn’t cross that way. The only other way was on a stock boat. We found the boat captain who provided you passage and roughed him up a bit, but he wouldn’t tell us a thing. Then we saw two ducks lying on the wheelhouse deck shot through the head. That takes some good shooting, and we didn’t think the captain was that good. We were going to cut the captain’s throat, but to save his life the old slave told us what we needed to know. He said you were going to follow the Red River west to Texas, and then ride north into Indian Territory."

  “We’ve been following you,” the major continued, “asking about you at each town we stopped at. When we got here, we went to the stable, saw the blaze-faced mare, and asked the stable master if a tall, young man had ridden her in. He said yes and, with a little persuading, he told us where you were.”

  “You were wrong to harm the captain and Mo. Mo was no slave,” Ty corrected. “He was never a slave to the captain. What else did you do to them?”

  “We shot them both, of course. They had given refuge to a criminal,” the major snarled, and gave a command to his troop: “If he moves, kill him.”

  Distraught that his good friends Captain and Mo had their lives shortened by Pothman because they had befriended him, Ty was about to draw and kill Pothman even though he knew that the major’s men had guns trained on him.

  Sam drew his revolvers and stepped through the saloon door. The other men in the saloon followed with their guns drawn. Pointing his guns at the major, Sam said, “We don’t shoot men in the back here, and we don’t allow others to do it. If you have a private matter to settle with this young man, settle it like a man. Those uniforms don’t give you the right to kill someone just because you don’t like him.”

  Ty turned to face the arrogant major. The major looked a lot like his brother, the sheriff. He had the same mean look. He was about thirty, square built, even his head was square. His thin mouth smiled, but there was no mirth in his smile. His cold, gray eyes looked through slit-like eyelids. His teeth were too big and his tiny ears sat too close to his head.

  Pointing to Ty, the major said, “He killed my brother and two of my friends. There’s no way he could have beaten my brother to the draw. The only man faster with a gun than my brother is me.”

  “The scar on this young man’s face tells a different story,” Sam said. “The scar says someone tried to shoot him in the back, just like you were going to do. It seems to me that you and your brother have a lot in common. I hear the man who was sheriff when your brother took over was shot in the back, also.”

  “All right, I’ll shoot it out with him.” He turned to his men and said, “Men, stand back. I’ll take care of this, and we won’t be bothered with having to take him back to hang.”

  Sam asked Ty, “Is this the way you want, Ty?”

  “This major was part of a group who killed my mother and sister. He killed Captain and his employee for no good reason. Putting a bullet through his head will help settle the score and relieve my mind. Thank you for giving me the chance.” Ty faced the major. “Draw when you’re ready.”

  Remembering the two ducks that had been shot through the head, the major hesitated. Ty waited. Still the major didn’t draw.

  Sam said, “Major, you’re a coward!”

  The major pointed at Ty and screamed to his men, “Shoot him!”

  The sergeant stepped forward and stood between his men and Ty. “Hold off on executing that command! I stood by and watched this coward kill two innocent men on the boat, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be a part of this. Come on, men, we’re going home.”

  The major glared at the sergeant. “I’ll go with you,” he said while walking to his mount, “but you’ll stand before a firing squad for disobeying a direct order.” The major walked behind his horse and drew his revolver to shoot Ty from cover.

  “Look out, Ty!” Sam hollered.

  Drawing his gun, Ty dropped to the ground and shot under the horse, knocking the major’s legs from under him. Ty got up, walked around the horse, and stood looking down at the major. “This man is a snake and deserves to die, but I can’t shoot him while he’s lying on the ground. Sergeant, what do you want to do with him?”

  “I don’t want anything to do with him. He’s a disgrace to the uniform he wears, but I guess we’ll have to take him with us. Men, tie the major to his saddle.”

  As the troop rode away, the major screamed, “You haven’t seen the last of me!”

  Ignoring the threat, Ty turned to Sam. “Well, Mr. Harmony, I’ve still gotta get my horses. I’ll be right back. I sure hope we’re not too late for supper.”

  Before reaching the ranch, they passed through a gate with a sign hanging from two poles. The sign read ‘Bar H.’

  “Mr. Harmony,” Ty said, “my horses will carry a Diamond T brand in their left ears. I don’t want to brand their flanks; it disfigures them.”

  “I’m glad you told me. Unbranded animals can cause a lot of trouble in these parts,” Sam replied.

  “Yeah, I’ve been told that before,” Ty answered.

  * * *

  They got to the ranch in time for supper. Curly and Pete, with the other ranch hands, sat at a long table eating their evening meal. Ty walked over to Curly and extended his hand. “It looks like we’re going to be riding together; I’m hoping it’s going to be a peaceful ride.”

  Curly shook Ty’s hand and replied, “I sure won’t be stirring up any trouble. I’m glad we’re going to be on the same side should we get into a shooting fracas.”

  “That goes double for me,” Pete said as he shook Ty’s hand.

  Pete scooted over on the bench and added, “Have a seat. If you can digest this food, you don’t need to worry about getting snake bit.”

  Waving his hand around the table, Sam said, “Fellows, this is Ty. Don’t let his innocent looks fool you. He’s tougher than a long-horned bull.”

  “I’m pleased to have an opportunity to sit at a table with you,” Ty smiled. “I’m sure we’ll get acquainted as we ride down the trail.” With that, he took a seat.

  This was Ty’s first taste of bunkhouse food. It was beans, sowbelly, and cornbread. For dessert, they had bread pudding. What it lacked in quality, it made up for in quantity.

  “Well, men,” Sam said, “I’ll l
eave you to your yarning. My woman is waiting for me. I’ll see you in the corral at first light when we start roundup. Those longhorns are scattered from hell to breakfast. We gotta have them ready to drive in two weeks.”

  Ty fashioned a small branding iron, built a fire, and branded his horses. Then he stored his saddle in the tack room and carried his packsaddle to the bunkhouse. The bunkhouse was a big one-room affair with sleeping accommodations for about twenty men. Ty found an empty bunk in a back corner and stuffed his belongings under it.

  “Where can I bathe?” he asked the man in a bunk next to him.

  The man extended his hand and said, “Name’s Gabe; that’s short for Gabriel. You can bathe in the river, or in the watering trough behind the shed. There’s soap on the rail by the shed, but you’ll have to provide your own towel.”

  After bathing, Ty returned to his bunk. A group of men was playing cards by lamplight. They invited Ty to take a hand, but he declined. He lay in his bunk listening to a man called Shorty and his friend Hermano playing guitars and singing sad songs. He studied the faces of the men sharing the bunkhouse.

  They were an assortment of strong, young men, and they all looked lonely.

  “I’ve been watching you studying the men,” Gabe said. “Cowboys are a lonely bunch. They’re like brothers, and while they’re on a drive, they’ll die to defend the herd and one another. But when the drive is over, they go their separate ways to find another herd to guard. They die in stampedes or in a gunfight over a girl that they wouldn’t take home to their mothers. They die at river crossings, stampedes, gunfights, and from snakebites. Those that don’t die from one of the many things that can kill them are old men at forty, too old to ride for a brand and no place to call home. They spend all their wages on gambling, women, and whisky. The lucky ones find a little piece of ground to farm and take a whore for a wife, and together they raise a few ragged children . . . . I’ve been trying to figure you out. You don’t fit into this life. You have another destiny.”

  Ty looked carefully at the man talking and guessed him to be in his middle thirties. He was tall with dark hair and blue eyes. Ty answered, “I’m looking for a place that has good grass and water—a place where I can start a horse ranch. You sound like an educated man. What are you doing here?”

  “Yeah, I’ve read a few books, traveled some. I had a good family and a farm in the Shenandoah Valley. My wife and two children were in the house when the Union soldiers came by thinking the farm was being used by the Confederates as a headquarters. The Yankees shelled the house with cannon, and my wife and children were all killed.

  I was away at the time, and now I’m just like the rest of these men, the product of a dead way of life, just floating along like a piece of driftwood, hoping for a clean sandbar to land on.”

  “Why don’t you find a spot and settle down?” Ty asked.

  “It takes money to buy a place. I don’t want to live alone, and I don’t want to take a whore for a wife. I had a good wife and two kids. After learning that my family was killed, I went on a crazed killing spree and killed Yankees until I couldn’t stand the sight of death anymore, so I came west. What you see is what I’ve become. I’m a lot older than these boys. They all look to me for counsel. I’m kind of a father figure to them.”

  “I was luckier than most,” Ty responded. “My parents valued education, so I got what in my area was considered a good education, but I don’t consider myself a learned man. I’m pleased to be riding with you. Maybe I can learn something.”

  “I carry books to help fill the lonely times—I’ll be glad to share them with you.”

  “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Ty remarked.

  “There’s some good land in Indian Territory, but it’ll cost you something to get it, and you’ll have to fight to keep it. I’d try to get a start there myself, but I don’t have enough money, and I don’t have your talent with a gun. Good night, Ty, I’m going to get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be the first day, of some very busy days, that will last until we get the herd to the railhead. Every man riding this trail will have to carry his load. We’ll have to defend the herd from cattle rustlers, Indians, bad weather, and no telling what else.”

  “Good night, Gabe.” Ty lay back listening to the guitars and the muffled voices of the gamblers until he fell asleep.

  * * *

  Ty jumped awake at the sound of someone pounding on an iron ring. He looked around the semi-dark bunkhouse. Men were crawling out from under their covers, sitting on the edge of their bunks, rubbing their eyes, and cursing while they put on their clothes. They dressed from the top down. First, they put on their hats, then their shirts and pants, and then their boots. They buckled on their gun belts as they stumbled out of the bunkhouse.

  Ty joined the rush, not knowing what to expect. The men gathered at a table under an open shed. The table was piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits, and coffee. A kettle of flour gravy sat on the table with a ladle in it, to pour gravy on their biscuits. Everybody was too busy eating, to talk.

  Sam walked up and said, “Good morning, men, I’ll see you at the corral when you finish eating. Ty, you and Gabe come with me. You can finish your breakfast at the ranch house.”

  Ty pushed his food aside and followed Sam towards the main house. Gabe was right behind him. When they got to the house, Sam said, “Come on in, boys, you can have breakfast with me and my wife while we talk.”

  Mrs. Harmony—a petite blond with brown eyes and a friendly smile—sat at the end of table. Ty noticed right away that she was accustomed to being in on the decision-making.

  “Good morning,” she said. “Please have a seat.” She tapped her glass with her spoon and an elderly Mexican woman brought food to the table, the same kind of food the cowboys at the bunkhouse were eating.

  “Men,” Sam said, “I’ve called you in because I need something special from each of you. Gabe, you’re better educated than the rest, and I want you to keep tally of the animals. We’ll have cattle from at least five different ranches, and each ranch has its own brand, totaling about eight thousand animals. We’ll have to keep track of how many animals we have of each brand, so that when we sell them, we’ll know how much we owe to each of the ranchers. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah, I understand,” Gabe answered. “I’ll need a ledger for each brand.”

  “There are ledgers and pencils on the shelf by the door. Pick them up on your way out,” Sam replied. “Ty, you’ll ride with me. I’ll ramrod the outfit, but I need you to back me up. I’ve chosen you because you’re bigger and obviously stronger than most of the other men. They know of your skills with a gun, and I’ve seen that you can think under pressure, so I know you won’t misuse your gun.”

  With a look of concern Ty replied, “Mr. Harmony, I told you, I’m no gunfighter. Maybe you should get Curly or Pete.”

  “Call me Sam. That’s why I want you for the job,” Sam replied. “I want you because you’re not a gunfighter. I saw how you handled yourself with Curly and Pete and watched how you dealt with the major. You’re good with your gun, but you’re no killer. Several of the men are good with their guns, but you’re better. I have to set rules of conduct for the men, and I may have to enforce those rules. I don’t want you to shoot anyone, but I want them to know that you could if you had to. What do you say?”

  “Ty,” Mrs. Harmony interjected, “my husband is a good man. He wouldn’t harm anyone unless there was no other way. That’s why I worry about him. I would consider it a favor if you would give him the support he needs.”

  “I’ll take the job, Mrs. Harmony, and I’ll bring him home safely. Maybe I can learn something about ranching from him. I want my own spread some day.”

  “Thank you, Ty, I feel better now. You’ll make a good rancher; and thank you, too, Gabe. It’s good to know that my husband will be riding with men like you. Please eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

  * * *

  When they got
to the corral, the men were waiting for orders. It was an early spring morning and the air was crisp.

  “Men,” Mr. Harmony said, “we’ll be rounding up the cattle in this area and holding them in a valley west of here. Leave the calves behind. The other ranchers will be doing the same. After the adult animals are gathered, each rancher will brand his own. After we complete the branding, Gabe will tally each brand and keep track of the number of animals in the herd. I expect we’ll have over eight thousand head to drive to Kansas.”

  “Mr. Harmony,” one of the men said, “I’m gonna need extra boots. The boots I’m wearing won’t last that long, and we’ll all need slickers. It’s bound to rain.”

  Another man asked, “Do you expect trouble with Indians or rustlers?”

  “Yeah, we had trouble on the last drive, and I suspect we will again, but we’re better equipped to handle it this time. The other cattle owners and I will furnish horses for you to ride, ammunition for your guns, and bad-weather gear. You have to furnish your own ropes, guns, and saddles.

  “There’ll be no drinking or gambling on the drive. You’ll know when your guns are needed, but don’t fire them unless it’s necessary. You can go into town before we start the drive, get drunk, and say goodbye to the girls. Ty and Gabe will go with you to make sure that you get back to the ranch.

  “Now, if there are no more questions get in your saddles and let’s start rounding up those longhorns.”

  Ty saddled his sorrel stallion, leaving Ol’ Blaze in Sam’s pasture.

  Sam waved to his wife as he and Ty rode into the brush looking for cows.

  * * *

  Day after day they worked gathering the animals. The other ranchers were doing the same. In a couple of weeks, the herd was ready. It was bigger than expected. The herd numbered eight thousand two hundred and six. A herd that size will make a trail of cattle almost two miles long, to be driven hundreds of miles across hostile land with many rivers and canyons to cross—no small undertaking for a crew of twenty cowboys, two hundred horses, two freight wagons, and a chuck wagon. The cook was in charge of the freight wagons and the men who drove the mules that pulled them.