The Bozeman Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “You know what I’m thinkin’?” Matthew asked. “I’m thinkin’ them boys up there is prob’ly about as thirsty as they are hungry.”

  “You’re sayin’ we should take some of our whiskey?” Mark asked.

  “And our whiskey distillery,” Matthew said. He smiled broadly. “You know, this goin’ to Dakota may turn out to be about the best idea I’ve ever had.”

  “You always have had a good head for business, Matthew,” Revelation said. She didn’t care who got credit for the idea of going to Dakota. The only thing she cared about was that they go. Matthew was the oldest, and now that he was committed to it, the battle was won. They would be going. Assuming, of course, that Cason and the others let them go.

  Billy was the first one to see the wagon coming up the long road that led out to the ranch from El Camino Real, the pike that ran into town. He pointed it out to the others.

  “Who do you suppose it is?” Billy asked.

  “I don’t know who it is,” Duke replied. “But I know what it is. That’s the wagon McMurtry had for sale. I recognize it.”

  “Then, no doubt, one of the Scattergoods is driving it,” James said. “Probably coming out here to sell the wagon to us.”

  “Yeah, and for twice what they paid for it, I’m bettin’,” Bob said.

  “If so, there’s nothing we can do about it,” Billy said. “We need the wagon. We’ll have to pay whatever they are asking.”

  “Maybe not,” James suggested. “I mean, sure it would be nice to have a wagon, but we’re already planning to use pack animals, and if we have to we will. On the other hand, if they can’t sell that wagon to us, what can they do with it? Looks to me like this is about a standoff. And if we handle it right, we might wind up getting a pretty good bargain after all.”

  “I wonder which one of them it is?” Bob asked.

  “As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t make any difference which one it is,” Billy replied. “There ain’t a one of ’em worth the powder it would take to blow them apart.”

  “Well, let’s go talk to him,” James suggested, starting toward his horse. “We may have a little surprise for him when he starts dealing.”

  The surprises went the other way. The first surprise was when they realized that it wasn’t one of the Scattergood men they would be dealing with but their sister, Revelation. The second surprise was when she told them the wagon wasn’t for sale.

  “Not for sale?” James sputtered. “Well, if the wagon isn’t for sale, I don’t understand. Why did you bring it out here?”

  “I wanted you to see it,” Revelation replied. “I want you to realize what a great wagon it would make for your drive to Dakota.”

  “Uh-huh,” James said. “So you’re just trying to goad us, is that it?”

  Revelation smiled and when she did, an amazing transformation took place. Although dressed as a man, in trousers, denim shirt, and a decrepit old felt hat, the smile lit up her face. Her eyes flashed, her dimples deepened, and it was quite easy to see that she was a woman.

  “No, Mr. Cason, I don’t want to goad you,” she said. “I want to join you.”

  “Join us?”

  “I want to go to Dakota with you.”

  James laughed.

  “Do you find the idea of my going to Dakota funny?”

  “Yes,” James answered.

  “I’m told that you’ve not been able to hire anyone to go with you.”

  “Don’t need anyone,” James replied. “We’re going to make the drive ourselves.”

  “Four of you are going to drive nearly three thousand cattle over a thousand miles? And with no wagon?” she added.

  “Maybe our herd won’t be quite as large as all that,” James said.

  Revelation nodded. “I don’t blame you. With no drovers to move the cows, and no wagon, then the smaller you keep your herd, the better it will be for you. Of course, the payoff at the other end won’t be nearly as large.”

  “Better that we get there with a few, than that we leave cows stranded over the eighteen hundred miles between here and there.”

  “Perhaps. But it would be better still if you got there with all the cattle you originally planned to take.”

  “And you think your going with us can accomplish that?” James asked.

  “Me . . .” Revelation replied. She nodded at the wagon and team. “My wagon and team . . .” She paused for a moment longer before continuing. “And my four brothers.”

  “Your four brothers?”

  “You’d have plenty of drovers to help you with the herd if they came,” Revelation added.

  Billy snorted. “Ha! I can’t see your brothers working for forty and found.”

  Revelation shook her head. “Oh no, we wouldn’t work for anything like that.”

  James’s face reflected a look of confusion. “Then I don’t understand. If you won’t work for forty and found, what will you work for? What do you want?”

  “We want nothing,” Revelation said. “Except the right to throw our herd in with yours during the drive.”

  “Your herd?”

  “A thousand head. For that, you have five more hands—”

  “Five?”

  “Counting me,” Revelation said. “I can work as hard as any man.”

  James shook his head. “A thousand head? No. Even with four more—-five more hands,” he corrected himself, “a thousand more head would make the herd too large to handle.”

  “What about seven hundred fifty head?” Revelation proposed.

  “Make it five hundred and we have a deal,” James countered.

  “Done,” said Revelation.

  “James, you think that’s wise?” Billy asked, surprised that James had accepted Revelation’s offer.

  “Think about it,” James said. “With five more hands and a wagon, we can take our entire herd.”

  “I agree with James,” Bob said. “What about you, Duke?”

  Duke demurred. “I’m not sure I rightly have a voice in this,” he said.

  “Sure you do. You’ve got your own herd, same as the rest of us.”

  “Well, if the difference is between taking all our cows or paring down because we have to travel light-handed, then I’m for adding the extra hands.”

  “All right,” Billy said. “If you fellas are willing to take a chance on them, I reckon I am, too.”

  “Go get your brothers,” James said. “Come back with them and the wagon, ready to go.”

  “Give me the loan of a horse,” Revelation said, “and I’ll leave the wagon here so you can get started loading.”

  “All right,” James said. “Oh, there’s one more thing. Since you and your brothers are partners, rather than riding for forty and found, you’ll be expected to come up with your share of money for the drive.”

  “Fair enough,” Revelation said. “We’ll bring the money with us when we return.”

  “How do we know we can trust you to have the money?” Bob asked.

  “Simple. If we don’t have the money, we don’t go. If we do have the money, we do go.”

  “Sounds reasonable enough to me,” Billy said.

  “What about the cattle?” James asked.

  “What about them?” Revelation replied.

  “Word is you Scattergoods aren’t always that particular about whose brand is on the cows you run. I wouldn’t want to get jumped by a posse somewhere, claiming we’re driving stolen cattle.”

  “There will be no posse,” Revelation assured them.

  “If anyone does prove you are running their cattle, you and your brothers will have to leave.”

  “That’s fair enough.”

  “Without your cows,” James added.

  “What are you saying? That you would expect us to just leave our cows behind?”

  James shook his head. “No, what I’m saying is, you better own the cows you bring to us.”

  Chapter Nine

  Fort Worth, Texas

  Wednesday, June 18, 186
2:

  It had taken Angus Butrum most of the morning to ride over to Fort Worth from Dallas. Dallas was a sleepy little town, but Fort Worth was full of activity, though as he looked more closely, he saw that most of the activity came from soldiers. Like ants at a picnic, the soldiers were everywhere. As far as he could tell, though, they weren’t doing anything except wearing their uniforms and parading up and down the street saluting one another. Angus reined up in front of a saloon, but just before he dismounted, he worked up a good spit of tobacco and squirted it onto the boardwalk. Although he hadn’t intended to do so, it got on the boots and pants of a young lieutenant. The young woman who was walking along the boardwalk with the lieutenant just managed to avoid it.

  “Hey, mister, you just spit on my boots!” the lieutenant complained.

  Angus looked at the officer but said nothing.

  “Well, you just going to stand there like a dumb ox?” the lieutenant challenged. “Get down there and clean it off.”

  The girl saw the danger in Angus’s eyes before the young officer did, and she pulled on his arm. “Come on, Donnie, let’s go. I’ll clean it.”

  “No,” Donnie said, obviously trying to make a show of it in front of the girl. “This scoundrel is not in uniform. It is obvious that he is either too cowardly to be in the army or he is a deserter. Now, which is it, mister?”

  Still silent, Angus tied his horse off at the hitching rail.

  “Mister, are you mute as well as dumb? I’m talking to you.”

  The blood vessel in Angus’s temple enlarged, then began to throb. He stared directly at the young lieutenant.

  “Sonny, why don’t you and your whore just pass on by?” Angus said.

  “Whore?” the young woman gasped.

  “I don’t know where you’re from, mister, but that kind of language is killing words around here. I’m calling you out!” the young officer said, his voice cracking in anger.

  “No, wait, Donnie, please!” the young girl pleaded, her voice now on the verge of panic. “It’s all right. I know he was just talking. Come on, please? Let’s go!”

  “You better listen to the girl, sonny,” Angus said.

  Under normal circumstances, Donnie may have recognized the danger himself, but these weren’t ordinary circumstances. Donnie was wearing the uniform of a second lieutenant in the Confederate cavalry, and carrying a new Colt pistol in his holster. Inspired with the zeal of patriotism, he was anxious to prove his manliness and bravery in front of the daughter of his commanding officer.

  Donnie unsnapped the flap cover of his holster, and put his hand on the butt of his pistol.

  “Now I’m going to give you one last chance. I’m going to count to three. You either apologize and clean off my boot, or go for your gun. I don’t care which,” Donnie said.

  “Donnie, no!” the young woman said, her words now on the verge of a scream.

  By now, half a dozen passersby had been drawn to the scene. When they heard Donnie’s challenging words, they grew tense as they waited to see what was going to happen.

  “Mandy, you get on out of the way,” Donnie said, waving her away.

  “Donnie, please!”

  “Miss, you better get on over here,” one of the onlookers said.

  “What’s it going to be, mister,” Donnie said to Angus. “Are you going to apologize? Or do I start counting.”

  “Start counting,” Angus said, calmly.

  Donnie blinked a couple of times, then a small patina of sweat broke out across his upper lip. It was as if, until that moment, he thought he could bluff his way through. Now he realized that this man couldn’t be bluffed. He also knew that he couldn’t take him. But that realization had come too late. It was impossible for him to back out of it now, without spending the rest of his life in shame.

  Donnie licked his lips a couple of times, then with a voice that was much less authoritative than it had been, began to count.

  “One,” he said. He paused, then said, “Two.” Now he paused for a long time, praying that, somehow this could all go away, that this man he had challenged would apologize, or at least, turn and walk away. The man continued to look at him with a cold, unblinking stare.

  “Three,” Donnie said, starting his draw even as he said the word.

  Angus drew and fired before Donnie could get his gun level. Donnie pulled the trigger on his own pistol very quickly behind Angus, so those who only heard the sound of the gunshots thought the fight was much closer than it really was. In truth, Donnie’s bullet plunged into the boardwalk right beside him—right in the middle of the tobacco quid Angus had expectorated a few moments earlier.

  “Donnie!” Mandy shouted, and pulling away from the person who tried to hold her back, she rushed to Donnie’s side, looking down in his face just as he breathed his last.

  “Is there anybody here who doesn’t know he drew first?” Angus asked.

  “Hell, mister, he was just a kid,” one of the men in the quickly gathering crowd said. “You coulda walked away from it before it ever got this far.”

  Angus stared at the man from the crowd for a long, rather frightening moment, then he put his pistol in his holster and walked into the saloon. The saloon had been practically emptied when everyone ran outside to see what the gunshots were about. In their excitement to see what was going on, several pushed right by Angus, not realizing he had been one of the principals.

  Angus saw his two brothers, Percy and Chance, standing at the bar. Though they had watched the drama unfold, they had not joined the exodus.

  “What was all that about out there?” one of them asked.

  “Ah, it was just some soldier-boy, too big for his britches.”

  “Did you have to kill ’im?”

  “He didn’t give me no choice. The boy wouldn’t leave it alone.”

  “You ain’t goin’ to be none too popular around here,” Chance said, as Angus joined them.

  “Yeah, well, I got no time for some snot-nosed bastard trying to prove he’s a man.”

  “Did you hear anything in Dallas?” Chance asked.

  “No. What about you two?”

  “Nobody here has ever heard of Duke Faglier.”

  “So, Angus, what do we do now?”

  “We go on looking.”

  “We’ve been looking for that son of a bitch for a long time now,” Percy said. “We come close to findin’ him when we was in Springfield, but he run off before we got there.”

  “He deserted the army, is what he done,” Chance said. “So now if we find ’im and kill ’im, we’ll get us that two hundred dollar reward the blue-bellies has got for deserters.”

  “He wasn’t in the army. He was a civilian. There ain’t no reward for him,” Angus said. Nearby was a half-filled mug of beer, left by a customer who had gone out with the others to see the commotion. Angus picked up the mug and began drinking.

  “Maybe he’s joined up with the Reb army,” Percy suggested. “If he has, we ain’t never goin’ to find him.”

  “He didn’t join up with the Rebs,” Chance said.

  “How do you know he didn’t?”

  “I just know,” Angus said, reaching for still another half-filled mug.

  “All right, so what do we do now?”

  “We keep looking,” Angus replied. “He killed two of our brothers. You boys can go on back up to Missouri if you want. But I, for one, don’t intend to let him get away with that.”

  “I ain’t desertin’ you, Angus,” Percy said. “Wherever you decide to go, I’ll be right there with you.”

  “Me, too,” Chance said. There was a beat of silence then he added, “Where will that be?”

  “Austin first,” Angus said. He drained the beer from the mug, then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Then I figure maybe San Antonio.”

  “When do we get started?” Percy asked.

  “Now,” Angus said. “Right now.”

  Angus started toward the front door, and his two brothers were
right behind him. When they reached the sidewalk, two men were gently lifting the young soldier onto the back of a buckboard.

  “He’s the one did it,” they heard someone say, not in an accusing tone, but almost one of awe.

  Without even making eye contact with any of the townspeople who had been drawn to the macabre scene, the three brothers mounted their horses and rode south, out of town. Not one of them looked back.

  Long Shadow Ranch Wednesday, June 18, 1862:

  “Looks like we’re goin’ to need us a couple of pack animals after all,” Bob told James.

  “Why is that?”

  “The wagon’s not big enough to hold all our stuff.”

  “Wait a minute,” Duke said. “That can’t be right. Maybe I don’t know cows, but I do know wagons, and there’s no reason why a big Studebaker wagon like this can’t carry everything we’ve got to carry.”

  “Well, come have a look if you don’t believe me,” Bob invited. “I’m tellin’ you, it’s not going to do it.”

  When James and Duke rode back to the wagon with Bob, they saw several unpacked items lying around on the ground. Revelation was leaning back against the wagon with her arms folded across her chest.

  “Are you sure you packed it right?” James asked, swinging down from the saddle.

  “Come on, James, I’ve packed wagons before. See for yourself.”

  James looked into the wagon, then back at the items on the ground. “It looks like a good tight pack,” he admitted. He shook his head. “I can’t figure out why everything’s not going in.”

  Duke looked into the wagon as well. He moved back to study the wagon from outside, then he stepped back to look down inside again.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said.

  “What is it?” James asked.

  “Bob, reach underneath the wagon there,” Duke said. “Put your hand on the bottom.”

  Bob started to do as Duke asked, but Duke redirected him. “No, do it up here,” he said.

  With a puzzled shake of his head, Bob walked up to the front of the wagon where Duke was standing, then he dropped to one knee and reached up from beneath the wagon to put his hand on the bottom. Duke stuck his hand down over the side of the wagon and touched the bottom from that side just above where Bob was touching. Then he looked over at Revelation.