Sam held up five. One of the younger Indians started to rise. Ty looked at him and placed his hand on his rifle. The Indian sat back down.
The old Indian held up eight fingers.
Sam held up seven.
The Indian nodded.
“Tell him to pick out the animals he wants,” Sam said to Sandy.
Sandy interpreted, the old Indian grunted, and the powwow was over.
The Indians followed Sam and his companions to the mouth of the canyon. The cowboys were waiting, barricaded behind boulders, with their rifles ready.
Sam yelled, “Relax, men, they’re taking seven cows!”
The battle avoided, the Indians selected the cows and drove them away. Sam and Ty mounted fast horses and followed at a discrete distance until they were sure the Indians were returning to their village.
Sam said, “Let’s get the drive underway.” They went back to the canyon and made another ten miles before they bedded down for the night. They crossed a deep, narrow river that wandered through a wide, fertile valley. Giant oak, elm, and cottonwood lined its banks.
“The Indians call this river ‘Washita,’” Sandy said. “They build their villages on its banks because it has lots of fish. The trees provide shade in summer and wood for their campfires in winter.”
* * *
Two days later, they reached the banks of yet another river. The valley of this river was not so wide, but the riverbed was much wider than the Washita. The banks were not steep, but a bed of yellow sand stretched nearly a mile. Groves of poplar grew in the shallow valley; sunlight rippled off their constantly fluttering leaves. The fluttering leaves made sounds like small hands clapping. A shallow stream wandered through the wide bed of sand, and gleaming light reflected off the clear water.
“This is the South Canadian River,” Sam said. “Checking this river for quicksand will take time.” Looking at Ty, he said, “We’ll try your suggestion of poking the sand with poles as we cross.”
Probing the riverbed with poles helped, and when they were satisfied that they had identified the bad spots and could cross safely, they drove the herd into the expanse of water and sand. The crossing went smoothly, and the men heaved a sigh of relief. The only other large rivers that remained were the North Canadian and the Cimarron.
A couple of cows were about ready to drop calves. Waiting for the calves to be born would take more time than the animals were worth, so they allowed the cows to leave the herd. The cowboys hoped that some pioneering family would find them.
Chapter 10
One morning, after the herd began to move, Gabe reported, “Sam, we lost one of our men and two hundred head of cattle last night. Rustlers did it. Curly found their trail.”
“Which man did they take and which way did they go?” Sam asked.
“They went eastbound and they took Shorty. Hermano wanted to go after them right away, but I told him to wait. I figured you’d want to take a group of men to recover both Shorty and the stolen cattle.”
“You’re right, Gabe. We’ll leave you sixteen cowboys, the cook, and two freight drivers. You stay with the herd and keep it moving. I’ll take Ty, Hermano, and four other men and pick up their trail. They can’t move fast with two hundred head of cattle. We’ll find them. I’ll take Curly and Pete—they’re both good with their guns. We’ll catch up with you, but if we don’t catch up; take the herd to Kansas and sell them, then take the money back to Texas and give it to my wife. She’ll pay the men’s wages and pay the ranchers for their cattle.
“Ty and I will go ahead and pick up their trail. Curly, you and Pete bring Hermano and two more men. Catch up as soon as you can. I’d like to overtake them before they get too far—maybe we can stop them before they harm Shorty.”
Ty and Sam found the place where the rustlers had stolen the herd.
“Here’s where they drove them. Even though there are lots of trees, the trail will be easy to follow,” Ty said.
“Yeah, it’s hard to hide the tracks of a herd of cattle,” Sam said. “There’s probably not many rustlers or they would have taken more cows. I think they’ll hold Shorty as hostage. They know we will follow them, and they’ll lie in ambush and try to pick us off so they can force us to accept Shorty’s life in exchange for the cattle. Keep your eyes open.”
“Aren’t we playing right into their hands by following their trail?” Ty asked. “It’ll sure make it easy for them to pick us off. Why don’t I ride fifty yards to the right of the trail, and you ride fifty to the left. If the trail moves to my side, I’ll let you know by hooting like an owl. If it moves to your side, you can do the same.”
“That’s a good idea,” Sam responded. “When the rustlers stop for the night, they’ll post a sentry. If you see the sentry, don’t shoot him. The shot will warn the rustlers. After you pass him, imitate the call of a coyote. That way we’ll know the sentry’s behind us.”
“Won’t Curly and his group be right behind us?” Ty asked.
“I’m counting on it. That’ll work to our advantage. If the rustlers ambush Curly, we’ll ambush the rustlers. I hope we can get by their sentry unseen,” Sam said.
Ty faded into the thick trees on the right, and Sam moved left, paralleling the trail. The sun was at their back and it was getting low. The rustlers would have to stop for the night because they wouldn’t be able to keep a herd together in the dark. . . .Cautiously, Ty moved forward knowing Sam was doing the same.
Ty heard the hoot of an owl, and acknowledged by imitating the call. If the sentry was behind them, the rustler’s camp wouldn’t be far ahead. Ty smelled a campfire, dismounted, and led his stallion. Then he smelled the unmistakable odor of coffee. After tethering his horse, he walked on wondering where Sam might be. Soon he saw the rustlers camped in a small clearing, with the cattle in a clearing nearby. Ty saw Shorty sitting on a horse with his hands tied.
As Sam had predicted, the rustlers were holding Shorty hostage. He wasn’t blindfolded, which meant that they were not concerned about Shorty identifying them. They planned to kill him after he had served their purpose. Using the trees for cover, Ty waited and in a few minutes saw Sam behind the rustlers. Ty let Sam and Shorty know that he was ready by imitating an owl. Sam replied with a coyote’s call.
The rustlers looked in the direction of the coyote and spoke to each other. Ty saw them clearly but wasn’t able to hear what they said. The men did nothing to indicate that they thought the coyote call was not genuine.
A shot rang out, then two more. The sentry must have spotted Curly’s group and fired a warning shot, then Curly’s men had fired back. The rustlers jumped to their feet, tied a rope around Shorty’s neck, and tied the rope to the limb of a tree.
The sentry rode into their camp at a full run with Curly and his men close behind. Curley’s group dismounted and took up positions behind trees. They weren’t firing at the rustlers indicating that they had seen Shorty and knew a shot into the camp would spook his horse. If the horse ran, Shorty would be hanged.
The leader of the rustlers, a big, burly man with a heavy stubble of black whiskers, his guns tied down, stood defiantly in the open with a scowl on his face. He knew the friends of his hostage wouldn’t shoot and take a chance of scaring the horse.
“All right, men,” the leader yelled, “if you want your friend alive, here’s how we’re going to play this hand. You go back to your herd and continue your drive. We’ll keep your man with us to make sure you don’t try anything fancy. If you follow us, we’ll kill him. If you leave us alone, we’ll release him in a few days and he can catch up to you. Just think of it as the price you gotta pay to get your friend back alive.”
Hermano was arguing with Curly. It was obvious that he didn’t want to leave his partner to the mercy of the rustlers. He wanted to ride in, guns blazing, but Curly was restraining him.
Three more rustlers walked into the open and stood with their leader. This behavior made Shorty’s mount nervous and it bolted, leaving him hanging by hi
s neck with his hands tied. Hermano charged in on his horse, intent on removing the strangling rope from his partner’s neck. The leader of the rustlers shot Hermano out of his saddle. Hermano hit the ground, but he was still able to crawl. Ty shot the rope that was holding Shorty, and Shorty fell to the ground. Hermano was trying to relieve the tight rope from around his friend’s neck. The big rustler took aim at Hermano, but Ty put a bullet between the killer’s eyes. Sam stepped into the open and shot two of the other rustlers who were standing with their leader. Curly, Pete, and the cowboys engaged the rustlers who were holding the cattle. Hermano removed the rope from around Shorty who seemed okay, but he’d have a rope burn on his neck for a while.
The whole thing lasted less than a minute. Making sure the fight was over, Ty looked around and watched the last two rustlers mount and ride into the night. Hermano had taken the rustler’s bullet high on his shoulder, and it had passed right on through. With a little patching up, he’d be fine.
Sam stood with smoke drifting from the barrels of his guns. Dead rustlers lay all around him. Curly, Pete, and the other cowboys came and stood with Sam; two of Curly’s men were wounded but nothing serious.
“Boss,” Pete asked, “do you want us to go after the rustlers who rode away?”
“No, you won’t be able to find them in the dark. Let’s round up the cattle and put them in this clearing so we can hold them until daylight. Tomorrow we’ll start them north to join Gabe and the rest of the herd.”
“I’ll ride night watch,” Ty volunteered. “I won't be able to sleep anyway. Killing people, even those who need killing, keep me awake.”
“Curly, you ride with Ty. The rest of you men clean up this mess and then get some sleep. We’ll have to drive these cattle fast to catch the main herd.”
Chapter 11
At dawn, they had the stolen cattle on a course that they hoped would intercept the main herd. They rode as long as there was light.
“We should catch up to them tomorrow night,” Sam said. “The town of Long Bow—which used to be a cavalry post—is just up the trail. There are ranches in the area, so be careful that we don’t pick up cattle that don’t belong to us.”
The following afternoon, a man, appearing to be a rancher, and three other men rode up.
Sam, quick to read the character of men, noticed that the rancher was a big, unsmiling man, heavy through the body, sure of himself and used to having men obey him. He wore a large black hat and dark-gray suit with a black belt in which he carried a gun tied down. He fancied himself a gunfighter. The rancher looked mean, and the men with him weren’t working cowboys. They, like their boss, wore their guns tied down. One was a lean, angular man with long arms, a high nose on a long face with a thin mouth, and he appeared nervous. The second man was average height and build, but he had a dark countenance and when he smiled his mouth twisted to one side in a leer. The third was a small, thin man with beady eyes set too close to his nose giving him the look of a weasel. Sam quietly said to Hermano and Shorty as they rode up to face the rancher with him, “The small one’s the man to watch—he’d shoot you in the back.”
“I’ll take a look at your herd,” the rancher demanded.
“Go right ahead,” Sam replied. “We’re driving five brands. We’ve been careful not to pick up other brands, but you’re welcome to look for yourself.”
The rancher examined the herd and said, “We don’t see any of our cattle, but we did see a young man riding an unbranded stallion. That animal belongs to me.”
“No, you’re mistaken. That horse is wearing a brand,” Sam said.
“Let’s look,” the rancher said.
“Ty,” Sam called out, “these men want to look at your stallion.”
Ty rode up. “He’s not for sale, if that’s why you’re interested in him.”
“I don’t have to buy him,” the rancher said threateningly. “He already belongs to me.”
Ty smiled. “You’re mistaken, Mister. I rode this horse all the way from Texas.”
The rancher, his steel gray eyes glaring, placed his hand in a position to draw his revolver and asked in an angry voice, “Are you calling me a liar?”
In a quiet voice, Ty responded, “No, I’m telling you that you are mistaken. This horse has a brand in its ear. If you can describe the brand, and tell us in which ear the brand is located, you can have the horse. If you can’t, I suggest that you ride on.”
The rancher turned to face Ty and growled, “I don’t need to look in that horse’s ear. I know the horse is mine. Now get off him or draw!”
Curly and Pete rode up. Pete said, “Hold it, Ty!” Then he turned to the rancher. “Mr. Marcum, I rode for you a couple of years back, and out of respect for that time, I advise you, don’t challenge this man. He’s faster’n greased lightning and twice as dangerous. I know you’re good with your gun, but you’re not good enough to challenge this man. I also know the horse he is riding. He did ride that horse all the way from Texas. Now, if this is your horse, then it had to wander all the way from here to Texas, and I doubt that.”
“I’ve also seen the brand in that horse’s ear,” Sam said, as he took a position beside Ty. “If you can’t describe the brand, then I agree with Ty. You and your men should ride away.”
No one had ever stood the rancher down before, and he didn’t like it, but he also didn’t like the odds. He turned and rode away. “We’ll meet again,” he said over his shoulder.
Still in a quiet voice, Ty responded, “I hope not. I don’t want to have to kill you.”
Sam and his men found the trail of the main herd, and Sam said, “Bed them down here for the night, men. We’ll catch up tomorrow.”
* * *
Mid-morning of the next day, they came to the town Sam had told them about. They drove the animals around it and found the main herd on the north side.
“Why’d you stop the drive?” Sam asked Gabe.
“We have two more cows ready to give birth,” Gabe answered. “I didn’t want to drop them out of the drive without your approval. The men wanted a break, so we stopped here last night. I felt sure that you’d catch up by this morning.”
“You’re right about us catching up. No harm done. Let the men rest, and we’ll resume the drive tomorrow morning,” Sam said.
“Ty,” Gabe said. “I’m glad you got here. I’ve got to go into town and buy a new pair of boots. Will you come with me? There’s someone there you should meet.”
When Gabe and Ty got to town, they went directly to the General Store. Gabe bought new boots and asked the salesperson, “Has Mrs. Covington been in today?”
“No, but I saw her walk into the bank a few minutes ago,” the proprietor answered.
Gabe said to Ty as they were leaving the store, “I met this woman at the restaurant last night. The bank is foreclosing on her ranch. It sounds like it would be a good place to raise horses. I thought you might want to buy it. She said that she owes less than half what the ranch is worth, but she can’t meet the payments, and there’s no buyer because a rancher named Marcum has told the banker he’ll pay what’s owed on the mortgage. The banker would like to deal fairly, but he can’t because Rolph Marcum is the principal stockholder in the bank.”
“Why doesn't she sell to him?”
“Marcum has been trying to get her ranch for years. He’s the man whom Mrs. Covington believes is responsible for her husband’s death. All Marcum will pay is what Mrs. Covington owes, so there’s no advantage in selling to the man who killed her husband.”
“Will the banker extend the time for making the payment?” Ty asked.
“No, and the note period runs out tomorrow. The bank wants the payment of two thousand dollars in full. If she can’t make the payment, the banker will foreclose and sell her ranch to Marcum,” Gabe explained.
“Let’s go to the bank and see if we can help,” Ty said. “We might be able to save Mrs. Covington’s ranch.”
“How are we going to do that?” Gabe asked.
“I’ll think of something,” Ty replied.
“You’ll be making an enemy of the rancher who’s been trying to get her ranch,” Gabe noted.
“We met Marcum a few miles back. He claimed ownership to my stallion. He’ll have to stand in line to be my enemy. I have lots of them and the line is growing.”
“All right,” Gabe responded. “Let’s go talk to the banker.”
Chapter 12
As Ty and Gabe walked into the bank, they met two women coming out. One was wearing a buckskin skirt, high-topped riding boots, and a bolero jacket. The skirt was tight around her hips and came down to just below the knees of a pair of very shapely legs, leaving no doubt that she was a woman. Her western-style hat was resting on her shoulders, held there by a thin leather strap tied under her chin. Her calf-hugging boots were scuffed, but they were stylish.
The girl with her appeared to be about eighteen, dressed similarly to the older woman. She had flashing blue eyes, set in a flawless face with a satiny fair completion. Sunlight glistened off her shiny black hair that swayed around her shoulders as she moved. She was the most beautiful girl Ty had ever seen, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Gabe was looking at the older of the two.
The woman walked up to Gabe, extended her small hand and said, “Gabe, thank you for coming.” The girl looked at Ty.
“How did you do with the banker?” Gabe asked.
“Not good,” she replied. “He wouldn’t give me more time to pay the note. It looks like I’m going to lose my ranch.” She gave Ty a searching look and asked, “Is this the young man you told me about?”
“Yes, Mrs. Covington, this is Tyree. We call him Ty. Ty, this is Kate Covington and her lovely daughter whom I met last evening, but I don’t know her name.”
“My name is Azalee,” the girl smiled, extending her hand as she looked into Tyree’s eyes.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Ty responded with a poise he wasn’t sure he could maintain if she kept looking at him with those eyes. Mrs. Covington and Gabe smiled as they noticed the attraction between the two young people and exchanged knowing looks.
Man Called Ty Page 8