The Buffalo's Last Stand

by Stephen Bly

  “I’ll take the gun,” Joslyn offered. “And I’ll go way out with Retta.”

  “But you’ll stand wherever Retta tells you to stand,” Travis declared.

  Retta led them farther into the darkness. “That’s fine, Ansley. You can stand between the boys. Maybe we’ll find her before we get clear out there anyway.”

  When Retta stopped, they all stopped. She called into the darkness, “Gilson. Gilson, it’s me—Retta. Where are you?”

  The night sky had lost all tints of gray and had turned a deep black. Stars flickered above the prairie. The wind drifted from the northwest. They shielded their candle flames with their bodies.

  Lord, I’m sort of glad we didn’t find her real quick because I don’t know what to say to her yet. I’ve never been sick all the time like Gilson. So I guess I don’t really know how she feels. But I know You love her, and You must have more for her to do than just die alone out on the prairie.

  So if You could lead us to her and tell me something wise to say to convince her to come back, I’d appreciate it. I just know it isn't Your will she die out here.

  Retta searched the knee-high prairie grass that parted as she waded through it.

  “I’d better stay here, Retta,” Travis called.

  “Okay, we’ll go on,” she said. “Gilson, where are you? Answer me, please! If you hear me, please answer.”

  She could feel the prairie start to slope downward. As it did, the grass waved taller.

  “I’ll need to stay up here on this crest, or I won’t see Travis’s candle,” Ansley told her.

  “Okay. We’ll go a little farther.”

  “Gilson! Gilson,” Joslyn called.

  “Gilson, this is Ben. Can you hear me?”

  Retta tramped ahead of the other two. Lord, I guess I really don’t know what Your will is for Gilson. I don’t even know what it is for me. But I really like Gilson and she wants to see Oregon and she’s only twelve, so I’m praying she will.

  “You see anything, Retta?” Ben asked.

  Retta looked around. “Nothing but prairie grass. It just goes on and on.”

  “I bet a man could raise a bunch of beef cows out here,” Ben commented. “I still don’t know why ever’one wants to go clean to Oregon. This might be good land out here.”

  “My stepdaddy says there’s a war comin’ over the slaves, and he wants to be as far away from it as possible,” Joslyn said.

  Retta continued to stare out into the darkness. “We just got through with the war down in Mexico. Papa said Christian charity would rule, and the Southerners would change after the next election.”

  “He’s a dreamer,” Ben said. “I say even the Missouri Compromise is just a stall. The fact remains, the cows would surely like this country. Ain’t nothin’ to eat the grass out here except buffalo.”

  “Gilson,” Retta shouted.

  “Oh, my,” Joslyn cried, “Here we are, deep in the prairie. What if we get run over by ten thousand buffalo?”

  “Gilson! It’s Retta and Ben and Joslyn. Where are you?”

  “If there were lots of buffalo around, the ground would start rumbling,” Joslyn added.

  Ben stomped on the ground. “Like this.”

  “Very funny. When the buffalo charge, at least I’ll have a gun,” Joslyn commented.

  “What good would that do you?” he laughed. “That little pistol wouldn’t stop a buffalo.”

  “No, but I could shoot myself so I wouldn’t get trampled to death,” Joslyn declared. “I read in a penny-press novel about a girl who was prepared to do such a thing.”

  “But she didn’t have to do it?”

  “Her horse saved her.”

  “Ben, you stay here,” Retta ordered.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Retta glanced at Joslyn and grinned. No one in my life ever said ‘yes, ma’am’ to me before. “Come on, Joslyn, there are no buffalo out here.”

  Joslyn trudged alongside Retta, her long, straight black hair partially dangling over her eyes. “There’s no Gilson either.”

  They hiked another two hundred feet and paused. “Gilson? Can you hear me? It’s Retta and Joslyn. Please answer if you can.”

  Both girls paused to listen.

  “Do you hear anything?” Joslyn asked.

  Retta held her candle above her head and leaned forward.

  “No. Do you?”

  Joslyn’s voice was shaky, high-pitched. “I thought I heard a bear snort.”

  Chapter Nine

  Retta searched the horizon in the black prairie night. “A bear? In the middle of the plains?”

  Joslyn threw her shoulders back. “I thought I heard a bear snort. There are bears at my grandma’s house in Michigan. I know what a bear sounds like.” Joslyn cocked the hammer back on the pistol.

  Retta glanced back at her. “What’re you doing?”

  Wide-eyed, Joslyn pointed the pistol out into the night. “I’m getting ready to shoot the bear.”

  Retta touched her arm with the coup stick. “There’s no bear.”

  “There might be one. Maybe it’s lost.”

  “Joslyn, give me the gun.” Retta held out her hand.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m afraid I’ll be the one to get shot.”

  Joslyn let the hammer down on the revolver. “Okay, I won’t shoot.”

  “Promise?”

  “Unless I see a bear.”

  “I’m going down this slope until your candle looks dim. Then I’m going to search around. We will probably have to hike back to the wagon train and tell Mrs. O’Day about Gilson. I guess this was not a very good plan.”

  “But at least it was a plan. None of the rest of us can even think of a plan.”

  “You wait there, Joslyn, and don’t shoot anyone.”

  “I’ll wait. If you see a bear, holler ‘bear!’”

  Retta trudged down into the darkness. The prairie grass thickened and felt prickly when it brushed against her. She held her stubby, round candle in front of her. Its puny flame illuminated one step at a time.

  Lord, how come some plans seem so good when I’m making them, but they don’t turn out to be much when I actually do them? Maybe Gilson went another direction. Maybe she doesn’t want us to find her.

  Maybe she’s already ...

  Oh ... I think ... I think I’d better go back soon. The farther I get from the wagon train, the more wild thoughts I get.

  Retta glanced back. She could barely see the tiny flicker of Joslyn’s candle. She cleared her throat. “Gilson? Gilson, are you there? Please call out to me. This is Retta. Where are you?”

  Okay, Lord, I tried. I’m not real smart sometimes, but I tried my best. And now ... well, it’s all in Your hands, Lord.

  Retta turned back to look for Joslyn’s candle and suddenly stood still. She heard a soft, deep snort.

  The bear!

  She spun around, the candle in front of her, and her coup stick raised. She could see nothing.

  “I heard you. I know you’re there. I have a coup stick. Don’t you come near me,” she hollered.

  Silence.

  She backed up toward Joslyn.

  Another snort.

  Again she spun around. She saw nothing but the prairie grass directly in front of her.

  “Don’t you sneak up on me,” she warned. She took two steps into the tall grass. The snort sounded closer.

  And lower.

  But louder too.

  “Are you in this grass? Well, I don’t think it’s very nice of you to crouch down in the grass and pounce on innocent girls who are merely looking for a sick friend. You better not have hurt my friend Gilson or else you are in big trouble.”

  The grass moved.

  A massive dark head reared up.

  Forelegs raised.

  It is a bear.

  The hind legs came up.

  No. It has four legs like a ... It’s a buffalo. Oh no. We stumbled into a herd of buffalo. They’ll trample us to death
.

  The buffalo staggered and dropped down on its rear haunches.

  Retta’s voice quivered. “What’s the matter?”

  The buffalo snorted.

  Retta crept around to the side of the buffalo, holding the candle above her head.

  “You’ve been shot. Oh, poor thing. You can’t go any farther, can you? You are just like Gilson, wounded and weak. May the Lord have mercy on you, Mr. Buffalo. He knows all about the sparrows, so I reckon He knows where you are, too.”

  Retta puffed out her cheeks and held the candle high above the buffalo’s head and looked around.

  “Are you all alone? Did the others go on without you? This is your prairie. All buffalo die sooner or later out here. But you see, I must find Gilson because she’s not a buffalo, and I think she should have something better. So good-bye, Mr. Buffalo.”

  Retta turned and started to hike toward Joslyn. She had made it about halfway when she heard another snort. She turned around and held up her candle. The massive buffalo limped along behind her.

  “What are you doing back there? I can’t help you. You simply must go back to ... well, to wherever buffaloes go.”

  “Retta,” Joslyn yelled, “Who are you talking to? Did you find Gilson?”

  Retta rested the coup stick on her shoulder. “No, I didn’t find her. I’m talking to this buffalo.”

  “You’re talking to what?” Joslyn croaked.

  “There’s a wounded buffalo back here. It keeps following me. I’ve told it to go home.”

  Joslyn panted and gasped. “A real buffalo?” she said in a squeaky voice.

  “Yes, and he’s such a nuisance.”

  “Ah ... ah,” Joslyn stammered as she stared over Retta’s shoulder. “It is a real buffalo.”

  Retta shrugged and marched on up the prairie slope. “I think that’s the only kind there are.”

  “Shall I shoot it?”

  Retta took her shaky arm and pushed down the revolver and led Joslyn along. “No! The poor thing has been shot already. That’s why he’s limping.”

  “What are you going to do with him?”

  “Nothing. I couldn’t find Gilson. So I reckon we need to go back and tell Mr. and Mrs. O’Day. We all need to get back before someone figures out we’re gone.”

  Joslyn peeked over her shoulder. “You’re just going to let him follow you?”

  “I don’t know how to stop him. I’ve scolded him quite severely. He seems intent on ignoring my commands.”

  They trudged through the grass toward the next candle. The wind drifted to their faces, and they shielded the candle flames with their hands.

  “Did you find her?” Ben called out.

  “No,” Retta yelled. “No sign of her anywhere.”

  “You didn’t find anything?” he hollered through the darkness.

  Joslyn scurried ahead. “Yes, we did. Retta found a buffalo.”

  “Yeah, sure, and I suppose it ran off.”

  “No, it’s following us. It’s right there behind us.”

  “You’re joshin’ me.”

  Joslyn turned and pointed. “Okay, smarty. Tell me what that creature is.”

  Ben stared over their shoulders. “Well, I’ll be a slop pail at a circus. Look at that. Retta has a buffalo.”

  The girls tromped past him and kept going.

  “That’s what we told you,” Joslyn called back.

  Ben hurried to catch up with them. “Why is it following you, Retta?”

  “I haven’t the slightest notion. But I didn’t find any sign of Gilson, and so we’re going back.”

  “And he’s goin’ with you?” Ben asked.

  “Apparently. At least for a while.”

  They hiked another two hundred feet up the slope.

  “Ansley, guess what?” Ben yelled.

  The redheaded girl stood on her tiptoes as if it would help her see in the dark. “You found Gilson?”

  Ben sprinted up the hill. “No. But Retta’s got herself a buffalo.”

  Ansley wrinkled her nose. “What do you mean, she’s got a buffalo? Is that some frontier expression like ‘seeing the elephant’?”

  “Look,” Ben shouted. “It’s a real on-the-hoof buffalo.”

  “Oh!” Ansley gasped. “Oh!” she cried again. The candle tumbled from her hand and thick weeds began to blaze.

  Ben, Retta, and Joslyn ran over and stomped on the flames. Within a minute, the fire was reduced to smoke.

  Ansley froze in place. “Sorry, I’ve never seen a buffalo ... this close ... and especially in the night. He’s huge!”

  Ben retrieved her candle and relit it from his.

  Retta led the gang toward the wagon.

  “I’ll be more careful. Really,” Ansley promised. “I was just startled.” She sniffed the air. “What’s that funny smell? Does he smell? And why is he limping?”

  “He’s shot,” Joslyn reported.

  Ansley hurried up ahead of them. “You shot him with my gun? I didn’t hear any gunfire.”

  “No, I didn’t shoot him,” Joslyn said.

  Ben tugged his hat down lower in the front. “Someone shot him, and he’s injured. That’s why he can’t go very fast.”

  Ansley’s candle blew out. She relit it off of Ben’s. “Does he just follow Retta?”

  Retta rubbed her nose with the back of the hand that held the coup stick. “Yes. And I don’t know why.”

  The foursome stopped several times on the ascent to relight candles that blew out. A slight breeze stayed cool and steady. The ground was soft under their shoes. Finally they reached the crest where Travis waited, his candle burned down to his fingers.

  “What was all the noise?” he called out.

  “Don’t ask.” Retta kept walking.

  Travis fell in step with Ben. “What does she mean, ‘don’t ask’?”

  Ben pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a very large, wounded buffalo following behind. That’s all. And, no, we didn’t find any trace of Gilson.”

  Travis peered around. “I—I see it, but I don’t believe it. It’s—it’s like a dream,” he stammered.

  “Yeah,” Joslyn said, “but we don’t know yet if it’s a good dream or a nightmare.”

  Ben led the procession toward where Christen should be as the grass got shorter on the mostly flat prairie.

  For a while no one spoke. They could hear the tromping behind them.

  Retta gazed straight ahead. Lord, now I’m really, really worried about Gilson. I was counting on finding her, but we didn’t do a very good job.

  “Maybe Gilson decided to go back to the wagon,” Joslyn offered.

  “Yeah, maybe she’s waiting for us,” Ansley said.

  The tromping stopped.

  “Is he still back there?” Ben whispered.

  Travis looked over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

  “I think Gilson is gone. I really do. She always does what she says she’ll do,” Retta said.

  Christen ran forward to meet them. “You’ve been gone a long time. What happened? Didn’t you find her?”

  Retta tried not to cry. “No, we didn’t Let’s go see Mrs. O’Day.”

  “Retta did find a buffalo,” Travis inserted.

  “What buffalo?” Christen asked.

  “The one that’s following her like a lost puppy,” Joslyn replied.

  Christen held her candle way above her head. “I can’t see any buffalo.”

  “Where did he go?” Travis asked.

  Retta turned around and stared at the black prairie night. “I told him to go away. Maybe he minded me.”

  “Maybe he smelled the wagon train,” Travis suggested. “Them buffalo have good noses, you know.”

  “I want to see the buffalo,” Christen insisted.

  “He’s gone, I guess, but he looked like any other buffalo,” Ben said.

  Ansley shook her head. Her red hair fell back into place. “Except he was shot.”

  “And limped.” Joslyn handed the revolver
back to Ansley.

  “He had sad, tired eyes,” Retta commented.

  Christen grabbed Retta’s arm. “Really?”

  Retta let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, sort of like Gilson’s eyes lately.”

  “I want to see him,” Christen demanded again.

  Travis pointed into the night. “He’s back there someplace. Go look for him if you want to.”

  “By myself? You come with me, Ben.”

  He pushed his hat back, revealing tufts of curly blond hair in the candlelight. “Me? Why me?”

  “Because you’re my brother.”

  “Oh, come on. We’ll all look,” Retta directed. “But we won’t go very far.”

  “I’ll stay here as a sentinel,” Ansley offered. “I’ve already seen all of him I want to. He stinks.”

  “Everybody spread out a few feet and walk until Ansley’s candle looks dim. Then we’ll come back,” Retta instructed. “I’ll go over here to the left.”

  “I’m goin’ with Retta,” Christen announced.

  Joslyn giggled. “And I’ll go with Travis and Ben.”

  “We’re looking for the buffalo, remember?” Retta hollered.

  “Yes, Mama.”

  Retta and Christen hiked about forty yards when they discovered a clump of prairie grass several feet taller than the rest.

  “Hold my candle. Let me peek in here.” Retta parted the grass to find the huge buffalo’s head inches from hers and his eyes closed.

  “Ohhhhh,” Christen screamed. “It is a buffalo.”

  Retta flinched.

  The buffalo didn’t.

  “Hey, everyone, he’s over here,” Christen called out. “Retta found him.”

  “Give me my candle,” Retta said. “Maybe there’s another buffalo. There’s something else down here.” She squatted down next to the animal and held out her candle. “Gilson! It’s Gilson!”

  “Is she...” Christen gasped. “I’m going to faint.”

  “She’s breathing. I think she’s just exhausted. She looks sound asleep.”

  Travis, Ben, and Joslyn rushed toward them.

  “I’ve got to get her up,” Retta said, her eye on the buffalo.

  With brush on one side and the massive animal on the other, she couldn’t kneel down at Gilson’s side.

  “You’ve really got to move,” she commanded the buffalo. “I know you don’t feel well, but we have to get Gilson up.” She poked him with the coup stick.