The Ogallala Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “The crew’s been thinking,” Billy said.

  “That would be dangerous. What’s on their mind?”

  “We want to fix up the chuck wagon so it’s comfortable enough for a woman. Then, well, Kathy and the kids can go with us to Ogallala.”

  “Lord, no. The trail isn’t any place for a woman and kids.”

  “We’d sure eat good.”

  “Hell, I’ll find a good cook next time.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so dead set against her going along.”

  Sam closed his eyes. How many times did he have to tell Billy no?

  The crew loaded up the next day, after Toddle cooked a good breakfast, and then they headed south. Sam shook his brother’s hand and told him to hug Karen and the children for him. He promised to drop by to see them on his return from Nebraska late the following fall. Huddled in jumpers and underneath wool blankets against the sharp north wind, the cowboys rode south. They hoped to celebrate Christmas at home in a week.

  No one was home at the ranch when Sam and Billy and Tommy Jacks arrived. It was the night before Christmas Eve, and Sam knew there was a party at the schoolhouse, so they rode over there. Tommy Jacks, Billy and he dismounted in the schoolhouse yard, which was packed with rigs.

  Folks looked up when the three men came inside. Sam hoped they hadn’t disturb Etta Faye’s program. He spotted her up front, in a starched blue dress. She was giving stage directions to her students. The sight of her made his guts roil.

  Rowann recited a poem about flowers and never missed a beat. Her warm smile was directed at the three cowboys in back. Her mother, seated at the end of a row of chairs, nodded to Sam in approval.

  At the end of the program, several people came over to shake Sam’s hand and to ask about Tom and his new place. At last, after the crowd moved away to eat cake and drink warm apple cider and cocoa served by the mothers, Etta Faye walked over. “Well, Samuel, even away from home, you seem to get involved in all sorts of heroics.”

  “Heroics?” He frowned at her.

  “The Fort Worth paper, of course, carried the entire story on how you stopped the Tanners from robbing that bank in Lynnville, Texas.”

  “Boss, you said—” Billy clammed up when Tommy Jacks elbowed him.

  “You can’t believe those newspapers,” Sam said with a small smile. “Lovely program. We tried to get here on time, but weather held us back.”

  “Were either of you gentlemen with him at Lynnville?” Etta Faye asked.

  “No, ma’am, but shucks,” Tommy Jacks said, “it was only one gang.”

  Sam closed his eyes. His face felt hot. The room had suddenly grown warmer. Etta Faye’s arm slipped into his. “Come and enjoy some cake. I bet they didn’t feed you any in Lynnville.”

  Christmas morning, the children opened gifts Sam had brought home for them. Rowann got a new doll, Darby spurs, Hiram a cowboy hat and Sloan a fat yellow-and-white collie pup. Rowann instantly named the pup Bob. Sam gave Kathy a bolt of blue checkered cloth, thread and some lace. He also gave the family a large sack of hard candy and some big oranges. He even surprised Billy and Tommy Jack with a new shirt for each for them.

  “What can we give you?” Kathy asked, fighting back tears.

  “You have. You’re my family. I am the richest man in the world.”

  “You better get going,” Kathy said, taking his hat, coat and scarf off a hook. “You told Miss Ralston you would have dinner with her and the judge at noon today.”

  “Guess I better make tracks.”

  When he put on the wool coat, Kathy threw her arms around him and hugged him. “Don’t freeze. It’s cold out there.”

  “Lordy day, girl, those presents aren’t that big a deal.” He raised Kathy’s chin and looked into her sparkling wet eyes.

  “They are, Sam.”

  “I’ll probably board in town tonight, so see you in the morning. Merry Christmas.”

  Everyone but Sloan waved. The boy held tight to his pup. With a smile and a wave, Sam was on his way. Soapy, fresh, full of hay and grain, trotted quickly along the trail.

  When Sam crossed the creek and started up the far bank for the schoolhouse, something sharp struck him in the back. Then he heard the rifle report. He pitched forward, then hit the ground hard enough to jar him for a second. The next shot hit in the dirt and spooked Soapy. Sam scrambled for the cover of some cedars. He dove into them. Stiff boughs jabbed him in the face and body. More shots cut through the flat needles and showered down on Sam as he hugged the earth and tried to unholster the six-gun under his coat.

  A searing pain in his right shoulder told him the bullet was high. He wouldn’t be able to use that arm, and he couldn’t hit a bull in the ass at close range with his left hand. But that shooter out there did not know that. If he had the nerve to come in closer, Sam would get off a shot or two. The shooter was located beyond the creek in some cover. He’d let Sam ride past.

  Sam couldn’t find Soapy. After the second shot, he had rushed away. If the gunman didn’t catch the horse, he’d run home. Of course, cold as it was, he might freeze before he got there.

  “Damn it to hell,” Sam cursed. He was supposed to be at Etta Faye’s for dinner. How bad was the bleeding? He had no way to know. He listened above the wind. Someone was coming on horseback. He could hear him ordering others to go around. Sam cocked the Colt, but his right arm wouldn’t go up.

  Then a woman said, “No! Come on. He’ll die in this cold if you didn’t kill him. If you’d only caught his Gawdamn horse—”

  A woman was leading them? Sam wanted to see her, but he heard a buggy going west, then more horses leaving. He didn’t dare leave the cover. His main concern was his attackers would return to finish him off later. Good thing Tom was at Buffalo Gap. He was out for harm’s way up there.

  The next thing he knew it was late afternoon. The cold air was murderous. His eyelids were heavy. No way could he keep them open.

  “Here he is!” Billy shouted from a mile away.

  “How bad’s he been shot?” Kathy asked. “Is he alive?”

  Of course, I am.

  Chapter 25

  The ride to Frio in the wagon, despite all the blankets swaddled around Sam and Kathy holding his head in her lap, was a rough one. He felt as if he was being shaken to pieces. Billy drove in wild-man fashion. Tommy Jacks kept looking over the seat back at Sam, then laying the whip to the team. At last, they were at Doc Sharp’s house and drew him out of the wagon, with Kathy giving orders on how to handle Sam.

  “Where’s he shot?” Doc asked.

  “In the back,” Kathy said and they gently rolled him over.

  “When did it happen?”

  “This morning, I guess, when he set out for town. His horse came back about noon. We started looking for him right away and we didn’t find him for hours.”

  “Who did it?”

  “Doc, we don’t know. He hasn’t talked since we found him.”

  “That’s not new. Sam never talks much. I’m going to cut this shirt off him.”

  “Fine. You think he’ll live?”

  “Yes, I do. If they’d hid his head from him, it would be different.”

  “Good, I must go find Etta Faye,” Kathy said.

  “Why?” Doc asked.

  “He never made it to her place for Christmas dinner.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do you need me for anything?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. Tell those two cowboys to stay close. I may need them.”

  “They’ll be right here and I’ll be back in thirty minutes or less.”

  Sam wasn’t sure of anything when he opened his eyes. His right arm felt stiff and the fire in his shoulder was intense.

  “Are you coming around?” Etta Faye asked.

  “How did I get here?”

  “Someone shot you on your way to my house.”

  “Oh,” Sam said.

  “I wondered about you all day. Then, late yesterday, Mrs. McCarty came by and told
me where you were.”

  “Kathy? Billy? The others all right?”

  “Quit worrying. They’re fine. They’ve gone back to the ranch to take care of the children and chores. Tommy Jacks—I believe that’s his name—said they would rehang the door on the school house that they used for a stretcher to get you in on.”

  “I remember someone shooting me and then falling off the horse.”

  “Deputy Stuart was by earlier. You were asleep and I wouldn’t let him try to wake you.”

  “You’ve been here all night?”

  “Yes.”

  “You better go home and get some sleep.”

  “I am fine. It is you we all are concerned about. Doc said the bullet didn’t go in far, but there is always the danger of infection.”

  “I’m already beholden to you for sitting up with me.”

  “Are you trying to run me off.”

  “No. You must need some sleep.”

  “Can I tell you a wonderful thing?”

  “Sure, I need some wonderful things to happen.”

  “If you are going to be sarcastic—” Etta Faye raised her brows and frowned at him.

  “I’ll behave.”

  “The parents asked the school board for another three-month session and they want me back.”

  “Why not? You’re the best they ever had out there.”

  “The condition is every family must furnish a cord of wood since there’s no money available until the legislature meets next year.”

  “They’ll do that. You really won everyone over out there.”

  “Now you get well, and I’ll have a grand and glorious New Year.” She frowned again as he tried to rise.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Just thought of it. Your present.”

  “My present?”

  “Yes, it was Christmas yesterday. I was headed for your house.” He lay back. “It’s in my saddlebags.”

  “Oh, you’ll have plenty of time to find it.”

  “I won’t have plenty of time. I’ve got a cattle drive to organize.”

  Etta Faye shook her head. “I swear, Samuel, you’ll sit up at your own funeral and direct people to do things you didn’t finish.”

  Sam laughed at the notion. He reached over and squeezed Etta Faye’s hand with his good one. There was a lot that needed to be done. . . .

  Chapter 26

  His arm in a sling, Sam was back at the ranch in three days. Billy drove him home in a borrowed buckboard. When they pulled into the yard, the McCarty children ran out to greet him and Kathy, drying her hands, joined them.

  “Don’t ask him a lot of fool questions,” she said to her brood.

  “They wouldn’t do that,” Sam said. He was stiffer than he thought he would be.

  “They would,” Kathy said. “Did the trip wear you out?”

  “It was far enough,” he said and smiled at Sloan holding his puppy. “That thing know how to walk?”

  “He don’t get much chance,” Hiram put in.

  “Come on in. I have supper about ready,” Kathy said.

  “Good. I’ve missed your cooking. Doc’s housekeeper is a nice lady, but she makes portions for small people.”

  “Doc is not very big.”

  “He won’t get bigger on her food either. Won’t get enough.” Sam went into the house, which was full of the tempting smells of her cooking.

  “Sit down. Rowann get Mr. Sam some coffee. I hear Tommy Jacks coming in, too. Guess we can eat.”

  The meal was hard for Sam. Kathy cut up his food, and he felt helpless feeding himself left-handed. The sling had to go, Doc or no Doc.

  Over supper, the kids talked about the small pigs, and the men talked about the preparations for the drive.

  “There ain’t enough grass anywhere to hold that herd for over a day once we assemble them,” Tommy Jacks said.

  “There wasn’t lots of grass going to Buffalo Gap either,” Billy added between bites.

  “We’ve got to get in on the earliest grass growth to sustain us northward. We get to Colorado late and there hasn’t been rain, we’ll have fits getting them across there without any water.”

  “Burt Ramsey had to haul water one year to meet the herd every day,” Billy said.

  Sam shook his head at the lanky cowboy. “We ain’t got the help nor the wagons to do that. Besides, you’d have to haul it from miles away.”

  “We’ll have to beat the summer drought then.”

  “Right,” Sam said. “Six weeks to get to Doane’s Store or where we can cross the Red, maybe west of there even. Then we’ll take the Canadian to the west and angle into Colorado and then straight north to Ogallala.”

  He picked up the coffee cup and looked through the vapors. “It’ll take six weeks to get across the Nation and Oklahoma, then a month to get across Colorado.”

  “That’s four months,” Kathy said.

  “That’s right. Grass breaks the middle of March. We can head north then. We’ll be in Ogallala in mid-July.”

  “How long to get back?” she asked.

  “Six weeks to two months.”

  “You all won’t be back till September then?”

  “Close to that.”

  “Sam, do you recall what you told us up at Buffalo Gap?” Tommy Jacks asked him.

  “You boys tell her?” Sam asked.

  “No,” Tommy Jacks said.

  “What’s that?” Kathy asked.

  “Those cowboys of mine are so fussy about food, they ran off a perfectly bad cook up there. They want to ask you if you’d go to Nebraska and cook for us.”

  “We’d go, Mom,” Darby said.

  “Hell—I mean, yes, we would.” Hiram ducked down as if expecting to get a rap on the head for cussing.

  “Of course, you’d have to drive mules on the chuck wagon. We could put on an extra wagon and get Darby to drive it,” Sam said.

  Kathy stood holding the tops of the ladder-back chair. She pursed her lips and nodded. “Let me think about it for a while, and I’ll give you my answer.”

  “Think real hard on it, Mom,” Hiram piped up and then looked down.

  “Kathy, thanks for dinner. I’ll get me some sleep now,” Sam said.

  “You’ll be all right in the bunkhouse?” she asked, walking him to the door.

  “I’ll be fine.” Sam waved with his good arm and headed across the dark yard for the barn.

  Billy caught up to him halfway there and opened the door. “Sure been different here without you. Good to have you back.”

  “Guess there wasn’t anything out there where I was shot.”

  “Nothing I saw to pin it on anyone. I can’t believe there was a woman there.”

  “I can’t say who she was, but I’d know her voice anywhere.”

  “I hope we catch them. Here, I’ll get a fire in the stove,” Billy said.

  Sam sat down on his bunk and forced his boots off with his feet. He knew he’d always ride looking over his shoulder. He had never done anything to the Wagners. But he’d never let them get the drop on him again.

  Chapter 27

  Late February, peach trees were in bloom and a cold snap swept down and sent everyone for their winter coats. The duration of the cold spell worried Sam more than the loss of the fruit crop. He was busy coordinating everything for the drive from the ranch: bringing cattle in and road-branding, so the crew would be ready to head north when the herd was formed.

  His tally book called for two thousand head when all the men were on hand. That was a lot more than he wanted to drive up there. Fifteen hundred would have been plenty on that long of a drive, but he couldn’t turn down many of the askers.

  Sam had picked up six more riders and a new horse wrangler. He planned to use both Billy and Tommy Jacks as scouts. That way they could find water and the best feed. Most of the cattle he had looked at were thin from the winter’s short feed, which would slow them crossing the Indian Nation. Still, if Sam got up to Nebraska too late, the market might be glutt
ed.

  Half the herd would be made up of cows, so he’d be hitting calves in the head every day. No way would those newborns keep up, and they’d only make the cows turn back.

  “You’re sure you want to go?” Sam asked Kathy when she refilled his coffee cup one afternoon.

  “I couldn’t back out now and live with those kids. Yes, we’re ready.”

  “It won’t be pretty out there.”

  “I know: no hot baths, straining water, buffalo chips for fuel.”

  “Kathy, I could still find another cook somewhere.”

  “Sam Ketchem, all your help would quit and you know it.”

  “I could find a new crew.”

  Kathy laughed. “No, don’t do that. I will have to do one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “By the time we get to Ogallala, I’ll have to decide which one of those big galoots I’m going to marry.”

  “Billy or Tommy Jacks?” He frowned at her.

  “You’ve not noticed?”

  He put down his pencil and laughed at his own lack of observation. “Two good men, that’s for sure.”

  “But I don’t want to choose.” She shook her head as if troubled.

  “I felt the same way about this drive. Good luck. See you at supper.” He stopped in the doorway. A breath of cold air swept over him and he buttoned his wool coat. “Oh, the Morayes family is coming over this week to see how to take care of the stock and the crops while we’re gone.”

  An hour later, after Sam had passed Darby driving the kids in a wagon going home after school, he stood at the potbellied stove in the front of the schoolroom. His gloved hands held out to the warmth of the stove, he waited for Etta Faye to finish grading papers.

  “When do you leave?” she asked, busy writing on the papers.

  “One week.”

  Etta Faye looked across at the windows on the south side of the room. The deep blue sky was dull, like it wasn’t awake. The bare trees and even the cedars looked drab. He felt the heat from the stove on his face and knew his first month on the road would be a bitter one.

  “Please don’t stop any robbers this time,” Etta Faye said.