Betrayal at the Buffalo Ranch

by Sara Sue Hoklotubbe

  land that sits behind the Walela place.”

  Grover thought for a moment before answering. “Yes,” he said. “I

  know about my father’s land. He has been dead a long time.”

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  “Did you ever transfer it into your name?”

  Grover sat back in his chair. “It was my father’s. Now it is mine

  to use as I see fit. When I die, it will be for my daughter to use, if she wants.”

  “There was a man killed there a few days ago.”

  Grover frowned.

  “Have you been to that property lately?”

  “There’s no road,” he said. “You have to ride a horse.”

  Lance nodded. “I know.” He looked past Grover’s house, where four

  horses stood brushing flies into the air with their tails. Finally, Lance pulled the photo of the victim from his pocket and handed it to Grover.

  “Have you ever seen this man before?”

  Grover took the picture, held it, and looked at it a long time. He

  nodded. “I saw him walking along the road a couple of weeks ago when

  I went into town for groceries. I offered him a ride, but he didn’t want

  to sit in the seat next to my dog.” Grover turned his head and spit in the yard. “Thought he was too good, so I left him there.” Then he added, “It

  was raining that day, too.”

  “Where did you see him?” Lance asked. “Along what road?”

  “On the highway, before the Eucha Road turnoff.”

  “Did he say what his name was?”

  Grover handed the photo back to Lance. “No,” he said.

  Lance returned the picture to his shirt pocket, pulled out a business

  card, and handed it to Grover. “If you remember anything else about

  this man, would you give me a call?”

  Grover took the card and slid it into his pocket.

  “Wado.” Lance stood and rubbed his belly. “Thank you for the wild

  onions and eggs. They were delicious.”

  “Osda.” Grover grinned. “It’s good. Come on back sometime. We’ll

  talk some more.”

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  Chapter 12

  Sadie dropped her grocery bags on the table and proceeded to put her

  food away. She hadn’t heard from Lance so she kicked off her shoes,

  made herself comfortable on the couch, and began to read the paper.

  She turned to page 3 and looked at the photo again. She had been

  right about Eugene Hawk. The caption under the photo identified Hawk

  and another Cherokee Nation council member, Marshall Lee, as well as

  the caretaker of the herd, Jack Foreman.

  “Cherokee Nation Bringing Bison to Kenwood,” read the title of

  the article.

  After considerable interference by Care for Our

  Wild Animals, a group known as COWA, the

  Cherokee Nation has acquired eighty surplus

  bison from Yellowstone National Park. Twenty

  buffalo have already arrived in Kenwood

  where the tribe will run the herd, and sixty

  more are scheduled to arrive this week, ac-

  cording to Jack Foreman, who will oversee the

  operation for the tribe.

  The tribe plans to grow the herd and use

  some of the meat to supplement food for the

  elders in the tribe, according to Foreman.

  “The Cherokee Nation has invested in this

  herd for the nutritional value of the meat and

  the monetary value of the hides and other by-

  products,” said Cherokee Nation councilman

  Marshall Lee. “Buffalo are good for the tribe,”

  he said.

  69

  “The purchase took longer than we thought

  it would,” Councilman Eugene Hawk said. “We

  had to work around a fanatical and powerful

  organization called COWA that tried to stop

  the transfer because they don’t want any buf-

  falo leaving Yellowstone. I guess they don’t

  know that American Indians were living one

  with the buffalo long before Yellowstone ever

  existed, and that’s a heck of a lot longer than

  their petty organization has been around. And

  if Yellowstone lets the bison population get out

  of control, they have to kill them. What sense

  does that make? We’re just happy that every-

  thing worked out. The Cherokee Nation has its

  own buffalo herd now.”

  The Cherokee Nation will run the buffalo

  herd on four hundred acres of tribal land that

  has been set aside in Kenwood. Approximately

  $200,000 has been invested for special perime-

  ter fencing and supplies to hold them, accord-

  ing to the councilmen.

  Yellowstone bison are available only to

  Native American tribes, and the transfers are

  handled by a Wyoming bison ranch. The bison

  must be raised for commercial use.

  “If we do this right I think the tribe could

  make some money,” Hawk said.

  Sadie let the paper fall into her lap. Relief set in when she real-

  ized the truckloads of buffalo she’d seen on the highway were obviously

  on their way to Kenwood. She approved of the tribe’s new operation.

  Raising buffalo to supply meat to elderly Cherokees seemed like a good

  idea to her. Then her mind shifted to Angus’s Buffalo Ranch. If he had

  hunters paying for a trophy buffalo head, then what happened to the

  meat? Could he sell it? Did it have to be inspected? Once again, she

  reminded herself, what Angus Clyborn did was none of her business.

  70

  That is, she reasoned, unless it had something to do with Kenny Wayne Sanders’s murder.

  She wanted to see the Cherokee herd. It would take only twenty to

  thirty minutes to get to Kenwood from her place, and it couldn’t hurt

  to look. But dusk had fallen. It was that time of night when, for some

  unknown reason, deer and other country animals drew themselves to

  the roadways as if playing a game of chicken with nighttime drivers. She

  would wait until morning.

  ★

  After lowering the ramp, the man unlocked the padlock on the back

  of the cattle truck while the bison inside rocked the trailer. One of the buffalo pushed against the gate with its rump, and the man reached

  in with a livestock prod and shocked the animal, causing it to move

  away from the doorway. The man pushed two levers up with his hand

  and then used his worn and dirty cowboy boot to slide the bottom

  bar.

  Using his body weight, he pulled the gate backward. He didn’t want

  to be anywhere near the ramp when the bison discovered freedom from

  the confinement they’d endured for two days. It only took a few seconds

  for five bison to rumble their way out of the truck, onto the ground, and into the darkness.

  “There you go,” he yelled. “Sealed and delivered. Bonus included.”

  A man’s voice came out of the darkness from the front of the truck.

  “What kind of bonus?”

  “One of them cows is expecting,” boasted the driver. “Looks to me

  like she’s ready to drop.”

  “Well, that truly is a bonus,” replied the voice. The man, still invis-

  ible in the moonless night, approached and transferred several bills into the palm of the driver as he shook his hand. “Thanks, my friend,” he

  said. “This, I believe, should pay for the bonus and your silence.”

&nb
sp; “Yes, sir,” the man said as he slid the money into his shirt pocket.

  The faceless voice quietly disappeared into blackness as the driver

  climbed into the cab of the truck. The diesel engine groaned as the truck moved off into the night.

  71

  ★

  The clock read eleven thirty- three. Sonny raised his head when the

  phone rang, looked around, and then closed his eyes and rested his muz-

  zle on his paws when Sadie answered Lance’s call. She’d already gone to

  bed and had to fight to erase the sleep from her voice.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.” His voice carried through the phone

  line. “I’ve been working an accident on the highway between Jay and

  Sycamore Springs. It took longer than I thought. I wanted to make sure

  you and Sonny were safe inside the house.”

  “We’re fine,” she said. “I don’t think whoever killed Sanders is com-

  ing back around here. I think it had more to do with Sanders than where

  he happened to be.” Then she spun the conversation in a different direc-

  tion. “Are the people in the accident going to be okay?”

  She sat up in bed and propped a pillow behind her back while Lance

  talked. Everyone would be okay, he assured her, but the wreck had hap-

  pened on a curve and he’d had to direct traffic around it until the wrecker service finished another call and arrived to untangle the vehicles and get them off the road.

  “I’ve got to finish writing the report on this accident before I can get

  away, and I need to run by my house. Are you going to be okay?”

  “Go on home and get some rest,” she said. “I promise I’m fine. I

  have some more information for you, though. You won’t believe what I

  found out at the county clerk’s office today about Angus Clyborn and all

  the property he’s been buying.” She propped the phone against her ear

  and listened to the exhaustion in Lance’s voice. “There’s more, but don’t worry. It can wait until tomorrow.”

  She hung up and tried to go back to sleep, but it took her mind a few

  minutes to stop running. When she finally slipped into unconsciousness,

  she dreamed of being on Joe’s back, Sonny at her side, surrounded by a

  herd of buffalo. Her mission: to protect the herd at all costs.

  ★

  When Sadie awoke the next morning, she skipped breakfast and dressed

  in a hurry, anxious to see the new Cherokee Nation buffalo herd in

  Kenwood. After she fed Joe, Sir William, and Sonny, she jumped in

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  her car and drove west toward the Eucha Dam on the road that would take her to the small Cherokee community of Kenwood, stopping

  twice— once to avoid colliding with a small herd of deer, and again to

  miss a raccoon that was so fat it could hardly waddle across the road.

  When she reached the Buffalo Ranch, her stomach churned as she saw

  several vehicles parked near the large house. She hoped they didn’t be-

  long to buffalo hunters.

  She dismissed Angus from her mind and continued south, allowing

  the coolness of the morning air to refresh her spirit. She loved the countryside in spring, before the Oklahoma summer heat came along and

  scorched everything into oblivion. For now, the oak and maple trees had

  new leaves, a few redbud trees still clung to their purple blooms, the dog-woods dotted the roadside with beautiful white flowers, and she could

  smell the fragrance of the tall pines.

  As the winding road uncurled in front of her, she made her way

  below the Eucha Dam and beyond, past the turnoff to Groundhog

  Hollow Road in the Spavinaw Hills State Game Refuge, and ended up

  on Kenwood Road. Kenwood consisted of a couple of churches, several

  small homes, a grocery store and gas station, and no stoplights. Sadie

  parked in front of the Kenwood Store and went in.

  Inside, she found a young Indian man stocking shelves. The rest

  of the store was deserted. She retrieved a bottle of water from a free-

  standing container filled with a variety of soda pop and water covered

  in crushed ice.

  “O’siyo,” she said.

  The young man stood, acknowledged her with a nod, and walked

  to the cash register.

  Sadie pulled a couple of bills out of her purse and dropped them on

  the counter. “Say,” she said. “You don’t happen to know where the tribe

  is running their new buffalo herd, do you?”

  The young man smiled. “Go about a mile in that direction,” he said,

  pointing with his head, “and take the dirt road back to the right. Can’t

  miss it.”

  Sadie opened her bottle of water and took a drink. “Have you seen

  them?”

  The clerk shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “Sounds like a good deal for the tribe.”

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  The young man smirked. “We’ll see,” he said.

  Sadie smiled, thanked him, and returned to her car. She secured

  her bottle of water and drove west. She followed the young man’s direc-

  tions and found herself staring at yet more high fencing, the same as the fencing surrounding Angus’s ranch and the same fencing Kenny Wayne

  Sanders had been installing on her property line. The fence led her to a

  metal gate, where she found two parked trucks with two horses standing

  next to them. She pulled in behind the second truck, killed the motor,

  and got out. She could see the herd clustered together in the distance.

  One man worked on the saddle of one of the horses. The other

  appeared from the first truck and confronted her. “May I help you?” he

  asked, in an unfriendly voice.

  “Hi,” she said. “I read about the Nation bringing in a buffalo herd

  and I just wanted to see them.” She stepped forward and offered her

  hand.

  “You’re not with that COWA group, are you?” He sounded

  apprehensive.

  “Oh, no.” Sadie laughed and introduced herself. “Sadie Walela, just

  a harmless Cherokee citizen watching our tribal money at work. You’re

  Jack Foreman, right? I recognize you from your picture in the paper,”

  she explained.

  He reluctantly shook her hand. “Yes, ma’am. The herd is growing.”

  He turned and pointed at the herd. “Got another shipment in yesterday.”

  “How many do you have, now?” she asked.

  “I’m getting ready to verify that today. I was late getting here to meet

  the trucks yesterday and they just backed up, unloaded them, and took

  off. I guess when there’s no money to change hands, you take what they

  give you.”

  “No money?”

  “Yellowstone gave these buffs to us because of some agreement the

  tribe made. I don’t really know all the details. I just run buffalo; I don’t keep track of the politics attached to them.” He pulled his cowboy hat

  down over his eyes. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “There they are. Look

  all you want.” He returned to the other man, took the reins of one of

  the horses, climbed on, and let himself through the large metal gate. The other man followed.

  74

  Sadie got back in her car and watched as the two men rode toward the herd. The buffalo began to fan out when the riders approached, and

  Sadie tried to count them, but they were too far away. She estimated

  the herd to be about sixty- five to seventy.
Not sure why it mattered, she finally gave up and headed back to Eucha.

  As she drove, she thought about the new buffalo herd. She was glad

  the tribe was investing in something besides casinos, and as a Cherokee

  citizen, it gave her a sense of pride.

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  Chapter 13

  After stopping at the Kenwood Store again for a snack to replace the

  breakfast she’d skipped earlier, Sadie left Kenwood and headed home.

  The morning had dwindled away, and she would have to hurry in order

  to make it to Paradise Travel in time to relieve Beanie for lunch.

  Her Explorer hugged the curves she’d driven in the opposite direc-

  tion earlier that morning and her mind wandered. Why all of a sudden

  had so many buffalo appeared in Delaware County? Wouldn’t they be

  happier roaming wild on the western plains instead of cooped up in the

  hills of northeastern Oklahoma? She hoped the new Cherokee buffalo

  herd would be happy.

  Enjoying the spring morning, she drove back through a corner of

  the Spavinaw Hills State Game Refuge toward the Lake Eucha Dam.

  When she reached the Buffalo Ranch, she noticed the vehicles she’d seen

  earlier were gone, and that made her feel better. She hated the idea of

  hunters mercilessly murdering animals— wild or not. She had no prob-

  lem with those who hunted and harvested the meat for sustenance, but

  to kill an animal simply to display its hide or hang its head on the wall was dead wrong, in her opinion, and smacked of arrogance.

  As she turned the corner, she noticed a lone buffalo on the ground

  near the corner of Angus’s property. Sadie slowed her vehicle, keeping

  an eye on the animal. Thinking it might be ill, she pulled to the side of the road and watched. It didn’t take her long to realize the cow wasn’t

  ill at all; she had found an isolated corner to give birth. The big animal lay on her side and heaved several times until the calf dropped onto the

  ground. Then the cow immediately sprang to her feet and began to lick

  and clean the new arrival.

  Sadie sat in her car, trying to be as quiet as possible so as to not dis-

  tract the new mother. She’d witnessed the miracle of a foal being born,

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  but this was her first buffalo. The cow cleaned the calf, licking the newborn to stimulate its new muscles, and then she nudged it, urging it to

  stand on its own. The little one wobbled, tried to stand, and fell. The