“We’ll be gettin’ an early start, after breakfast,” Chance told him.
“Right,” Dundee said. “We’ll be ready.”
Dundee turned in, and Chance prepared another pot of coffee.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Chance woke Jake, Curly, and Dundee the next morning as Taco and Desi came riding into camp.
“Breakfast,” he announced.
They all staggered to the fire, each in his own form of rest or unrest. Chance felt surprisingly alert for having been on watch the past four hours.
Carlito handed out plates of his chuckwagon chicken, pecos strawberries, and sourdough bullets—bacon, beans, and biscuits—to everyone, then sat down with his own plate.
“Okay, after we eat I want everyone to stick their heads in a barrel of water and wake up,” Jake said. “Today’s gonna be the day.”
“Are you predictin’,” Dundee asked, “or hopin’?”
“I guess I’m predictin’,” Jake said. “But it feels like a pretty damn sure thing, to me.”
“Me too,” Chance said. “We’re far enough away from any law for it to make sense.”
“So we make our own law?” Curly asked.
“We do,” Jake said.
“The law of the gun?” Dundee asked, touching the pistol in his belt.
“No,” Jake said, “the law of the trail.”
“Jake’s law,” Chance said. Jake looked at him. “Nobody takes what’s ours,” he continued.
“Understand?” Jake asked.
They all said they did.
“Then eat up, wash up, and wake up!”
* * *
* * *
When they were all fairly refreshed and mounted they started the herd moving north. Once again, Chance rode drag. It just seemed to make sense to have the most experienced man there. The best way to take a herd was to stampede it over the men who were guarding and guiding it. You started the body of a herd stampeding by lighting a fire under the ass end. It was, therefore, Chance’s job to make sure that didn’t happen.
Of course, if the men trying to steal the herd didn’t know that . . .
* * *
* * *
We’re gonna steal the herd from the front?”
The speaker was a man named Gus Walker. In his forties, he was possibly the only member of Seaforth’s Raiders who had experience working cattle. The others had experience using their gun, taking what they wanted, and killing.
“Yeah, that’s the plan,” Garfield said as they rode, giving the herd a wide berth. “Why?”
“Well, everybody knows the way to steal a herd is to stampede it,” Walker said. “You can’t very well do that from the front.”
“Tell that to the Major.”
Gus Walker looked over at Garfield like he was out of his mind.
“You tell ’im,” he said. “If I tell Major Bailey he’s wrong he’ll shoot me.”
“If he hears you call him Major Bailey he’ll shoot you,” Garfield said. “It’s Major Seaforth.”
“Right,” Walker said, “Seaforth. I still ain’t tellin’ him he’s wrong.”
“We’ll do it his way, then.”
“Fine. Where and when?”
“As soon as we find a likely place up ahead to ambush them,” Garfield answered.
“Bushwhack?” Walker said. “The boss don’t like to ambush people. He likes to go head-on.”
“I know,” Garfield said. “It’s just . . . an option.”
“A what?”
“Another way to do something,” Garfield explained.
“The men like the way the Major does things now,” Walker said.
“I know,” Garfield said.
Before they could go on, Sequoia rode back to fall into place and join them.
“The Major wants you,” the breed said to Garfield.
“We’ll talk later,” Garfield said to Walker, and rode on ahead.
“What’s goin’ on?” Walker asked.
“Only they know,” the breed said, and then before Walker could speak again, “I must ride on ahead.”
That left Walker riding on his own, which he didn’t like, so he fell back and joined the rest of the men.
“What were you and Garfield talkin’ about?” a man named Gardner asked him.
“Options,” Walker said.
“What are options?”
“Other ways of doin’ things.”
“What’s wrong with the way we do them now?” Gardner asked.
“I don’t know,” Walker said.
* * *
* * *
No ambush,” Seaforth said. “That’s not the way we do things.”
“Then why is Sequoia scouting up ahead?” Garfield asked.
“He’s looking for a likely place for us to hit the herd,” Seaforth said. “When we do it, it will be head-on.”
“Major—”
“Who have you been talking to?”
“What? Nobody. I just—”
“The men will follow my lead,” Seaforth said, “will you?”
“You know I will,” Garfield said. “I always do, don’t I?”
“You make me think you always do.”
“What’s that mean?”
“You think I don’t see when you’re trying to get into my head?” Seaforth asked. “Give me an idea and then try to convince me it’s mine.”
Garfield looked at Seaforth with renewed respect.
“You know about that?”
“I do,” the Major said, “and I let you think it works.”
Garfield studied Seaforth for a few moments, saw something in the man’s eyes he used to see back in the day.
“Yes,” Seaforth said. “I’m not as arrogant and stupid as you think I’m getting.”
“Sea—”
“Never mind, Gar,” Seaforth said, “just be at my side and everything will be all right.”
“Yes, sir,” Garfield said, happy to apparently have the old Seaforth back, at least for a while. He wasn’t even chewing the damn licorice!
* * *
* * *
The day began badly, and went downhill from there.
Crossing a deep gully, several of the cows managed to snap a leg, which meant they had to be put down. The carcasses could not simply be left where they were, so they had to be butchered and the meat stored on the chuckwagon. This meant they were going to eat well for many nights to come—if they survived that long.
They also encountered a pack of Texas red wolves that got pretty brave and came close enough to the herd to claim some stragglers, or calves. In the end, the only way Jake could figure to get rid of them was to let them have their kill, which would keep them feeding for some time while he and his men moved the herd farther away. Dundee and Curly wanted to shoot the wolves, but after wounding a few they realized there were just too many and stopping to hunt wolves would end up slowing down their progress.
Another problem was a spring rain that appeared, and suddenly dried-up gullies were gushing with flowing water. Many of the cows didn’t want to cross, and some of the horses resisted as well. As they had done a couple of weeks before, the men had to swim across, coaxing their horses along behind them, while the flow of the main body of cattle pushed the reluctant cows across. It took time . . .
When they were all on the other side—as if to rub their noses in the trouble—the rain stopped.
“If we had waited . . .” Dundee said, looking back across the flowing gully. Already the water had begun to slow down.
“It would have just cost us more time,” Jake said. “Let’s check on the condition of the horses, and each other.”
“Not to mention the chuckwagon,” Chance said.
They checked the horses first, a
nd found all but one had gotten across safely. One of the remuda had broken its leg and was put down.
The chuckwagon had virtually floated across successfully, and the mule team had survived. Carlito had injured his arm, but not badly. He assured Jake that he would still be able to cook with his arm in a sling for a short while.
“And I will fire my rifle, if I must,” the cook added.
“Good,” Jake said.
They carefully checked the wheels of the chuckwagon. All seemed intact.
Lastly, they checked each other. Curly had a gash on his head that he had not even felt when it occurred. They cleaned it thoroughly. Dundee had injured his left hand, but he was right-handed, so he would be able to fire his pistol.
Chance had some bruised ribs, as something in the water had jabbed into him, possibly a tree trunk. But he was able to move, so they didn’t seem to be fractured.
Jake, Desi, Taco, and Dundee had arrived on the other side in one piece.
The sky cleared, and that seemed to be the end of the storm, which it seemed had appeared only to torment them.
“I suppose the only way it could’ve got worse,” Jake said, “was if Seaforth and his raiders had been waitin’ here for us.”
“They’re not here, and I don’t think they’re behind us,” Chance said.
“What’re you sayin’?” Dundee asked.
“That I think they circled around us and are waitin’ someplace up ahead.”
“Can we change direction and avoid them?” Curly asked.
“Not a chance,” Jake said. “We’re just gonna have to keep goin’, and hope for the best.”
“Then let’s move ’em out,” Chance said.
“Should we change mounts?” Curly asked. “I can bring the remuda—”
“No,” Jake said, “all our horses have gone through the same ordeal, and I don’t want to take the time. Let’s just move!”
CHAPTER TWENTY
What’s holding them up?” Seaforth wondered aloud. “They should have been here by now.”
“There was a storm,” Garfield said. “Sequoia told us it was pretty bad. It would have slowed them down. Or might have damaged their chuckwagon.”
Seaforth was sitting on some rocks with Garfield, Gus Walker, and four others. Across from them—far enough away so that the herd could get between them—was Sequoia with five men. When Seaforth gave the signal, they were going to attack the trail drive. Sequoia’s group would handle the flanking riders on their side, and whoever was riding drag. Seaforth’s group would handle their flanking riders, and Jake Motley, who the Major assumed would always be at the front. Their responsibility would also be the cook driving the chuckwagon.
“Let’s just stay calm and wait, Major,” Garfield said. “They’ll be here.”
“Those boys across the way better keep calm,” Seaforth said. “I hope they’re not getting impatient.”
“With Sequoia leading them?” Garfield said. “He keeps his head better than any three of us. Relax, Sea. You have a good plan, here.”
“I’d like to do this without stampeding the herd,” Seaforth observed. “It’ll be hell to round them all up again.”
“You won’t have to round them up again,” Walker said.
Seaforth looked at him, then at Garfield.
“Walker,” Garfield said.
“What do you mean, Walker?” Seaforth asked.
“I’ve worked cattle, Major,” Walker said, moving closer. “Even if they stampede, most of them will stay together.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Yessir!”
“Walker,” Seaforth said, “when we get this herd I think you’re going to be a trail boss. What do you think of that?”
“That suits me just fine, Major,” Walker said, with a smile.
Garfield hoped that being the trail boss didn’t make Walker think he was in for a bigger cut.
* * *
* * *
They got the wet herd moving again, as well as themselves. Rather than changing into dry duds, they just decided to let the wet clothing dry on them.
And finally, with the sun out and doing its job to get them dry, suddenly there was a crack and the chuckwagon leaned to one side, almost throwing Carlito off. He stopped his team and then stepped down. By the time Jake rode up to him, he had found the problem.
“The rear right wheel, jefe,” he said. “It broke all the way through.”
“We checked the wheels when we got out of the water,” Jake pointed out.
“We did,” Carlito said, “but we did not see the crack.”
“Okay,” Jake said, “Do you have another wheel?”
“Sí, jefe. In the back of the wagon.”
“I’ll get Taco and Desi over here to change the wheel,” Jake said. “You sit somewhere and relax.”
“Sí, jefe.”
As Jake headed back to the herd Chance was riding toward him.
“What’s the holdup?” he asked.
“There’s a broken wheel on the chuckwagon.”
“But we checked.”
“I know. We didn’t see a crack, and now it’s all the way through. I’m gonna get Desi and Taco to change it.”
“Okay,” Chance said, “I’ll make sure Curly and Dundee stick with the herd, don’t let them stray.”
“Right. Let’s go.”
* * *
* * *
Carlito had a wheel in the back of the wagon, up against the canvas side, where it didn’t take up much room. Taco and Desi slid it out the back and got to work replacing the cracked one.
With Chance, Curly, and Dundee looking after the herd, Jake stood watch over the wagon repair, and kept an eye out for raiders.
It was getting late in the day and Jake was considering just making camp right there once the repairs were done. If Chance was right and Seaforth and his men were ahead of them, waiting, then maybe this would make them nervous, instead of the other way around.
Jake rode slowly around the area, saw that it was not well traveled ahead of them. When he rode back to the wagon Taco and Desi were just setting the wagon back down on the ground.
“How’s it look?” Jake called.
“It is solid, jefe,” Desi said.
“I was just going to have Carlito climb aboard to make sure,” Taco said.
“He’s got that bad arm,” Jake said. “Why don’t you do it?”
“Of course,” Taco said. “As you say, jefe, I will do it.”
Jake watched as Taco climbed onto the wagon seat, bounced up and down on it a few times, then picked up the team’s reins and urged them forward several yards before stopping.
“It looks good,” Desi said.
Taco dropped back down to the ground, walked to the wheel, examined it, touched it, then turned to Jake.
“It is fixed, jefe,” he announced.
“Good,” Jake said.
“We should exchange mounts now—” Taco started, but Jake cut him off.
“No. I’ve decided we’re gonna camp here. I’ll go and tell the others. One of you make a fire for Carlito.”
“I will do it,” Desi said. “And I will help him prepare the meal.”
“I will unsaddle the mounts and picket the horses,” Taco said.
“Good. And keep an eye out.”
“We will.”
Jake rode back to the herd, told Chance, Curly, and Dundee they were making camp.
“Dundee, you and Curly stay with the herd. I’ll have someone come out and get you when the meal’s ready.”
“I should stay out here, too,” Chance said. “Just till we know the herd is bedded down. They’ve been through a lot today, and I can feel the tension.”
“Okay,” Jake said, “but if I spot Seaforth and his men, I’ll fire a sh
ot. That means come a-runnin’.”
“Got it,” Chance said.
Jake rode back to camp.
* * *
* * *
With Desi’s help, Carlito was able to prepare a warm meal for them. By this time all their clothing had dried but there was still some dampness inside everyone’s boots. And they didn’t dare take them off to sit with their feet by the fire, for fear that Seaforth and his men would choose just that moment to attack. That would leave them all defending the herd barefoot.
“I tell you what,” Jake said while they ate. “Let’s get our boots off two at a time, try to dry them out, and put on some dry socks. Two at a time should be safe.”
Jake went last, waiting until everyone else had dry feet beneath them. He sat and stared straight ahead. Even if Seaforth’s Raiders didn’t come in a group, they might send someone back to scout them.
“Your turn, Jake,” Chance said. “I’ll keep watch.”
“I’m figuring they’ll wanna know what the holdup was, so they’ll send a scout back.”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Chance said, seating himself with his rifle across his knees.
Jake went to the fire, dried out his boots as well as he could, donned dry socks, and then pulled the boots back on. Desi and Taco were out with the herd by this time. They had camped early because of their ordeal, so it was not yet dark, and too early to turn in for the night. Another thing they all had to do was clean their guns, to make sure that they would fire after having been drenched by the rain and the running water in the gully.
Dundee and Curly were in the midst of doing that, moving quickly just in case. When they were done Jake cleaned his rifle and pistol. He assumed the others had already done the same.
He walked back over to where Chance was and sat next to him, handing him a cup of coffee.
“Thanks.”
They sat and drank together.
“Anythin’?” Jake asked.
“No,” Chance said, “nothin’s movin’, and I don’t like it.”
Ralph Compton Big Jake's Last Drive Page 11