by Lana Mowdy
Chapter 12
They started out on the Great Western Trail for Vernon, Texas with 3,500 beeves, headed for the Red River. Jobe laid out the rules of the drive and the responsibilities of each of the hands. Wade and Emily took flank, toward the back end of the herd. They would be keeping the longhorns in line and turning the cattle to follow the points. With extra hands on board, there were two flanks on each side of the herd, and though Wade and Emily were on the same side, no words were spoken between them. They were to take the third shift of the night watch, and Wade hoped that there would be time to talk at night, but after a long, hard, dusty day, they were too exhausted to think, let alone hold intelligible conversation.
The day started at the first light of dawn with strong coffee and biscuits, and they were soon on their way, driving the cattle for about twelve miles in the heat and dust, until the sun began to set, relieving them of its sweltering burn. After a long day in the saddle, they ate supper, and then fell asleep around the roaring campfire with only a bedroll to cushion the painfully hard ground beneath them. Miles of endless red clay and flat grassland lay ahead of them, yet Wade could only focus on the reward at the end, oblivious of the obstacles that lie between him and his aspirations of happily ever after. They were finally on their way, and he could feel the release of pressure as he left Alice far behind.
True to her word, Emily neither exchanged glances nor spoke a word to him outside of necessary interaction related to the cattle, and Wade’s heart tore with each look in her direction, desiring even a hint that there remained a passionate spark between them. She gave him no such indication, and bitterness was inflected in her voice when she addressed him. He considered that Alice had empowered herself by revealing his proposal to her to Emily, for he had come to realize that Alice could be just that spiteful, but he had no evidence that this suspicion was true, and he sincerely hoped that he could reveal this information himself with explanation and revelation of his full plan.
There never seemed to be time, though. During the day, they rode beside the swift moving longhorns through the open plains; avoiding small mesquite that grew in bunches, leading the cattle to slow moving springs or watering holes, and then urging them forward again. At times, one would stray, luring others to follow, and Wade would ride beside, circling them back into the herd. Over small hills and flat, dry land, they drove them, full attention on the herd, watching intently.
Emily’s inexperience became more apparent after a long day of riding; she climbed off the horse, sore and aching. She had battled her horse, keeping him in line, yet unable to handle such an animal. Wade offered Silver, for although he had once been a wild mustang, he knew Wade’s movements, as though they were one, and he was sure that Silver would be gentle. Emily would not hear of it, determined to make this journey with no exceptions, and she continued without complaint. Wade became increasingly concerned, however, for her horse bucked easily, was uncontrollable and contrary. Often Emily moved her body, giving him the wrong signal, and he would struggle with her contemptuously.
After supper one evening, Jobe spoke up over the loud banter across the campfire, expressing his concern. The next day would be adventurous for they would be crossing the Red River. At once, Wade began to worry, remembering Alice’s words that five men had died crossing the Red River the year before. Jobe barked directions, foretelling the danger of the open water both to the cattle and the men, but the cattlemen roared with feigned certainty, encouraging themselves and their comrades as if going into battle. They would face the mighty Red and would overcome with every man and beeve intact. Wade was not convinced, however, and that night he slept restlessly, apprehensive of Emily’s ability to guide her horse safely across the rushing waters.
When they reached the Red River, Wade stared at it in awe for a moment, for its appearance was true to its name. The water ran quickly across the wide gorge, and it was red, the color of the clay over which it ran, like the color of worn, red leather winding its way through hot dry land. The place they would cross had been named Doan’s Crossing after the owner of the small store where they would stock up on wares after they had crossed. A barge waited on the edge of the river to haul the chuck wagon, but the cattle and horses would swim across where the river narrowed slightly, fighting the current and praying for survival.
Breathing deeply, as if filling themselves with air would also fill them with courage, the lead horsemen led the way across, followed by resistant longhorns being driven by the cattlemen on either side and the back. Wade and Emily were instructed to stay on the west side of the pack, building a fortress against the east-moving river. As Silver waded in, Wade stayed mounted, urging Silver on, keeping an eye on the pack and on Emily, right behind him. The slow-moving cattle struggled against the current of the river, swimming hard before an unusually strong drift moved through them, sending the weaker ones down the river. The cowboys on the eastern flank fought to retrieve them, throwing ropes around their necks and pulling them forward as the river ran deeper and stronger.
Silver lost his footing for a moment, and began to swim, keeping Wade above the water. They had crossed rivers before, and Wade was confident that Silver could make it across, and then he remembered Emily. He looked behind him, but he saw nothing but panic stricken beeves. Spotting Emily’s riderless horse, he spun around, resisting Silver’s pull forward. Splashing and movement clouded his vision, and the calls of frightened cattle and the rushing water roared in his ears until he could hear nothing. Fighting his way back, he saw her hanging on to the tail of her horse, gasping for breath, wrestling against the call of death whispering mutiny in her ears. Her horse, dragging itself across the river, unaware of the cargo it pulled, began to lose its power, becoming slower, and then drifted into the line of cattle making its way across. Wade called to her desperately, but her ears were filled with the sound of terror, and her body was being beaten by the hastening current and the anxious cattle.
Wade entreated Silver to return to Emily, but he was fretful, aware of the power of the frightened herd, and Wade had to dismount, knowing Silver would make it to the other side. He swam to Emily, avoiding the long, sharp horns surrounding him, and wrapped his arms around her, as she tried to fight him off. Even in the throws of death, she could not let go of her pride, and she fought him until her strength was spent. Fighting the struggling cattle surrounding him, he felt a strong pointed object tear at his flesh through his shirt. Wade grabbed the reins of Emily’s horse, holding on to her powerfully with his other arm, and thrust his legs against the force of the river, until his feet hit the bottom, and he began to push his body to the edge of the bank. They fell together on the bank of the river.
Wade searched her face for signs of life, but he saw none. Leaning over her, he could not feel her breath on his face or a pulse in her neck, and he turned her over, thumping her back until water spewed from her mouth. Sputtering forcefully, she shook violently as she coughed, sucking breath deeply. Her body was bruised and sore, and blood oozed from tiny cuts over her body, but she sat up quickly, suddenly aware of her surroundings. She looked at Wade, hovering over her, and she pushed him away.
“Get away from me. They cannot discover my disguise.”
Wade stood, willing her to remain seated until she had regained her strength, but she rose unsteadily, still forcing him back with reproaching glowers. He felt relieved that she had survived, but he was hurt that she disregarded his act of heroism, more concerned with her identity than her life. He replied, “Who cares if they know who you are. We will never see them again.” He tried to take her hand to keep her steady, but she threw it off.
“You imbecile, if they find that I am a woman, I will be fired. You will see them again. Did you so soon forget that you pledged yourself to be married to that wretched girl?”
So, she did know, but did she know that entire story? Did she know that he had proposed in order to save her from being exposed and returned to her abusive father? He did not have ti
me to ask questions, for the cattle continued to lurch out of the water, startled and frantic. He pulled her out of the path of the beeves, ran to Silver, and mounted quickly, circling the charging cattle to gain control before they started to stampede. He would have to face her another time, for the herd was hysterical, and the riders exhausted from fighting the river. When they finished their count, they found they had lost eleven head in the rushing water with no chance of recovery. It would be counted as a loss, just as if they had died of exhaustion, heat, or dehydration. They celebrated, though, when each man was accounted for. They had lost no human life.
Celebrations did not last long, for they had to keep moving. The chuck wagon stopped at Doan’s Crossing to restock supplies, but the cowboys kept the herd in motion. They had reached Oklahoma, and though the name changed, the terrain did not. The sun rose directly overhead each day, giving a dry, sweltering heat over the parched land. Tumbleweeds rolled by, unaware of the passersby, and now, wind would have been a blessing for the lack of air movement settled the dust in their lungs, pushing the heat to the ground then reflecting it up towards the riders.
Being that they had entered designated Indian Territory, where the Indians from other states had been relocated against their will, they should have seen no settlements, however small dugouts scattered over the virgin land, where towns and cities would soon rise, spiting promises made to the natives. Herds of buffalo ran alongside the line of longhorns before changing course, and groups of teepees dotted the land, sheltering Cherokee families as their men hunted the same buffalo until migrating, aware of the importance and fragility of the balance of nature.
Wade took notice of the tribes of Native Americans, looking fierce, yet unlike the sordid stories related in the legends of the Wild West. They were friendly and helpful though understandably distrustful of the white man racing cattle through land they had been promised. There were no fences for they belonged to the land, and Wade felt a kinship with the people who loved the land just as he loved his land in Georgia.
Looming ahead of them were mountains of rocks, which they wound their way around, and night became even more dangerous as they huddled closer around the fire, warding off rattlesnakes that made their homes in the mountains. Men on night watch felt shivers run up their spine as they listened to the scream of mountain lions and puma on the hunt, waiting hungrily for just one dogie to stray. Standing on the edge of rising cliffs stood mountain goats; they were odd looking creatures, yet nimbly making their way over the rocky terrain, while coyote hid in the shadows watching every move.
Once they rounded the rocky hills, they were back into dry country, still and tan, as waves of heat rose from the level horizon, and the setting sun brought some relief though the heat now lasted through the night. Wade and Emily were still on the third shift of night watch, and though he had attempted to discuss his proposal to Alice, she had stopped him every time. He wondered if she wanted to know the truth or if she was satisfied, knowing that their relationship was over. He considered avoiding her, allowing her to wallow in ignorance, but his heart was soft, and he could never let her go without a fight. He had come too far.
Once again, he stopped beside her as she looked around, admiring the open landscape, where the starry night seemed to stretch forever, and the silence was deafening. They were alone, for they were the only ones on watch for the next two hours. The steer were settled, the camp was sleeping, and only the sound of their voices could be heard for miles.
He whispered softly, “Please let me explain. Without the complete story, I look like a fool. In its entirety, I will seem unscrupulous and cruel, but you will see where my devotion lies, and you must know to whom I have given my heart.”
She did not have the chance to answer. Gunshots rang through the blackness, stirring the cattle and waking the cowboys. Wade raced around the edge of the herd, circling them as he had been taught, and Emily ran behind and alongside of him, dashing through the stampeding herd as they became more frenzied. Every hand grabbed his horse and corralled the anxious beeves, but Wade could see several that had not been rounded back, and he raced after them, pulling them back. Shots rang out again, and Wade continued, ducking the raging cattle horns, drawing them back to the bedding ground, until he felt a sharp sting in his shoulder. He fell to Silver’s neck, clutching the reins desperately, and continued his efforts. The hooves roared like thunder until slowly, they began to calm.
Emily trotted to Wade’s side, catching his reins and pulling them towards her, and then he slowly drifted to the ground, releasing his grip on Silver, and clutching his shoulder. He could feel the warm, sticky blood running through his fingers, and the searing pain pulsing through his arm to the fingertips. He tried to remember when the pain had started, but his vision and his memory was fading, and all he could see was Emily’s face as she leaned over him, then picked him up, supporting his body, and walked him back to the camp. Warmth settled on him as the cook, Red, poured liquid down his throat, making him sputter as it burned his chest down to his stomach, and then darkness settled over him.
He slept as Red worked under a lantern, removing the bullet from his arm, and bandaging it tightly, and then as Red and Jobe discussed whether he could continue the trip. They were only halfway through Oklahoma, and the dangers of the trail were not over. Jobe brought Curly over and asked, “Hey Curly, you think he can make it? Red had to cut pretty deep to remove the bullet, and he’s gonna hurt pretty bad when he wakes up.”
Emily eyed him closely, and then faced Jobe, unblinking, “You think he could make it alone? That’s as good as murder.”
Jobe nodded, “Right. Right.” He raised his hands then dropped them then twisted his lips. “Do you think you can handle it? You know you’ll have to pull some of his weight if he continues.”
Squarely, she cocked her head to the side then answered with assurance, “You bet I can handle him.” She walked away sauntering proudly, and looked to the sun peeking over the horizon and began to help line up the cattle.
After they had counted, they found that rustlers had stolen fifteen head. Wade had stopped them from thieving another five or ten, but now he laid in the back of the chuck wagon, recuperating from surgery and a whopping headache, a side effect of cattle trail surgery. So far, they had lost twenty-six head of cattle, and they were only a little over halfway there. They could not stand to lose anymore, or they would take a loss in pay. Stress levels began to rise, and they began to push even harder, always keeping them moving. Tempers rose as they battled heat and exhaustion, causing dissent among the men. Even as Jobe spoke to them, encouraging them, sparks of bitter words ignited and small trifles became battles so that not a night went by that fists were not bared. Even the herd appeared restless, stomping around at night, and wandering more frequently during the long tread in daylight.
Wade recovered quickly, and though his shoulder blistered in the sun under the heavy bandages soaked red by the end of the day, he spoke no words, not even to Emily. His pride was sore, for on this journey he was supposed to have saved her, and instead, she had come to his rescue. He did not try to approach her again as he had on the night the rustlers had invaded, and he had no intention of pursuing her further. Her act of bravery far surpassed his chivalry, and his hurt pride could not be restored, nor could he bring himself to be at her mercy. So far, she had shown nothing but indifference, and the cold bitterness that he had felt with his mother had returned. Rhett’s words of advice rang through his head, and he decided that he would show no weakness for he was sure that she would devour him as the flowing Red River had consumed the steer.
By mid-July they had reached the Kansas border, and within a couple of days they would be in Dodge City, but like the flaring tempers of the cattle and the men, they watched the sky glow red early in the morning. The sun was blocked by the puffs of billowing clouds colliding swiftly, and by afternoon, the sky had turned a strange shade of green. Noises erupted across the barren land, hidden birds chirpe
d and prairie dogs ran swiftly. The cattle stomped around, unwilling to move forward as the wind picked up and the clouds began to swirl, slowly at first, and then more quickly, as if fighting for territory and room to explode. Streaks of lightening raced across the sky, followed by peals of thunder, jolting the beeves into action. They scattered in every direction, stomping fiercely as the lightening and thunder continued to bellow warnings across the green sky. Wade ignored the shooting pain in his arm, riding furiously, to settle the herd. Suddenly, balls of hail pounded them, falling from the sky and bouncing up from the ground. The frightened cattle continued to roam, searching for shelter from the pelting ice, and the men barely protected their faces as they crammed their hats harder on their heads, covering themselves with their arms until they could not take the pounding any longer.
Silence erupted as the hail stopped, and the men immediately rounded up the herd, counting to see if they had lost anymore. They began to rope a bedding ground, hearing a roar edging closer, like the roar of a train making its way on its tracks, and Wade could see in the distance a long swirling mass of dust and debris swirling from the clouds and touching the ground like a long tunnel, swirling towards them. The twister spun and shivered, demolishing everything in its path, tearing up dried bushes and trees as if they were twigs, and carrying them, feeding itself, gaining power and strength through its destruction. He could feel the wind pick up speed, as the tornado broadened, as if breathing, a live vessel, devouring and consuming its prey, twisting and turning across the prairie, leaving a line of nothingness behind it. Then, slowly, as if by its own power, it became thinner, jumping from the ground, and diminished back into the clouds, leaving silence and then soft, slow falling rain.
As if nothing had happened, the sun emerged and they looked around seeing small bits of hail still lying on the ground and bruises on their bodies where they had been beaten by the ice pellets. In front of them lay a wide path, cleared of trees and grass, as if the tornado had opened a path for them, correctly predicting their destination. The cattle were still, shocked by the hailstones and sudden change in pressure and temperature, and when they were counted, they found that they had only lost two. Wade and Emily offered to search for them, and within a few minutes, they returned with the steers tightly roped around their horns, following as if they were naughty children being led to the corner.
The sky was growing dusky so they decided to bed for the night. They would be in Dodge City within a couple of days, and each man crawled into his bedroll that night dreaming of how he would spend his paycheck in Dodge City, the luxuries he would find, and the ruckus he would raise. Wade and Emily dreamt of the long train ride home, each of them hoping to avoid the other, expecting to be alone, and anxiously awaiting the comforts they would find at home which they had taken for granted a year ago, and so desperately missed.