The Dodge City Trail

by Ralph Compton

  “I’m givin’ you credit for this, Dan. Frankly, I had my doubts about it ever comin’ to pass, and it had nothin’ to do with you. I just never seen so many folks come together this quick and work together so well.”

  “We’re not to Dodge yet,” Dan said, “and it’s likely Ledoux hasn’t heard about us. I agree we’re doing well, but we can’t become overconfident and let our guard down.”

  “I don’t aim to,” Silas said. “Tomorrow, while the rest of you are busy ropin’ cows, I aim to take my wagon and empty the store. I’d not be a mite surprised if Ledoux and his bunch don’t burn the place to the ground once they learn what we’re doin’.”

  “I admire your thinking,” Dan said. “Why don’t you take a couple more wagons with you, instead of having to load your own all the way to the bows? If you’ll talk to some of the women, they’ll go along and help you load. If you have more ammunition, with its weight, we’ll do well to spread it out among all the wagons.”

  “I got plenty,” Silas said. “I seen this day comin’ back in ‘sixty, ‘fore the first shot was fired. I reckoned if it come to that, me and my boys could fort up and hold out for a while. I even got a keg of black powder.”

  “Bring everything,” Dan said, “and when this drive is done, I’ll see that you’re paid for it.”

  “That ain’t botherin’ me,” Silas said. “Way things is goin’, without this trail drive, I’d be ruined anyhow. I figure I owe you plenty already, and I just want to say this, while I got the chance. If anything happens to me, and I don’t ride this trail to the end, whatever I got comin’ from this drive, I want you to have it. Agreed?”

  For a long moment Dan said nothing. When his eyes met those of the older man, he understood what Silas hadn’t been able to put into words. His sons were gone, and there was nobody to whom he could leave the little that he owned. Rather than have it lost, he wanted it to go to someone who meant something to him.

  “Agreed,” Dan said. He offered his hand, and Silas took it.

  5

  Maverick County, Texas. April 25, 1870.

  The gather began as scheduled on Monday morning at first light. Silas, accompanied by the Bowdre and McNelly women in two extra wagons, drove to his store. The other five families arrived before noon, Kirby Wilkerson’s wife driving yet another wagon. They now had seven. The roping teams rode in at noon for a meal of fried steak and beans.

  “We’re gettin’ in the swing of it,” Dan told them. “There’s more than a hundred of the brutes in the holding pens right now, and we’ll double that before dark. We’ll just about finish a gather in four days.”

  “Won’t hurt if we go over the limit a little,” Rux Carper said, “since we’ll lose some on the drive. We can divide up the extry when we get to Dodge.”

  The sun was an hour high when Silas Hamby and his three wagons returned.

  “We cleaned the place out slick as a whistle,” Silas said, “and I’d of been two days by myself. Miz Bowdre and Miz McNelly is a fine pair of teamsters.”

  Come sundown, Dan’s prediction proved accurate. The first day’s gather had resulted in 220 longhorns in the holding pen. After supper, Dan announced the order of the watches for the night.

  “There’s twenty-one of us,” he said, “and we each have a number for our gather. Those of you with the first seven numbers will take the first watch, from sundown to ten o’clock. Those with numbers eight through fourteen will take over at ten, to be relieved at two o’clock by those of us with the last seven numbers. It may be too soon for Ledoux and his bunch to try anything, but we won’t risk it. Whether your watch is done or still ahead of you, don’t shuck anything but your hats, and keep your guns handy.”

  Silas Hamby, Wolf Bowdre, Boyce Trevino, Tobe Barnfield, Rufe Keeler, Spence Wilder, and Ward McNelly—the riders for the first watch—saddled up.

  “Circle the entire camp area, including the holding pen,” Dan told them, “and don’t hesitate to wake everybody if there’s a need to.”

  Although surrounded by other people, the DeVoes had staked themselves out a sleeping area beneath an enormous oak. Dan had been spreading his bedroll there, and nobody questioned his presence. They all knew of Barnabas DeVoe’s fate, and on the western frontier, a woman needed a man. Adeline DeVoe was the envy of many of the women, yet she had quickly made friends. It had been her turn to help with the cooking and the cleanup that followed, so it was a while before she joined Dan, Lenore, and Denny in the area where they slept.

  “Lord,” she said, “I’m tired, but I’ll have to agree this is exciting. I’d never met these people until yesterday, but they’re just like we are, and I really like them. Lenore, you have to get over being so shy. And Denny—”

  “I reckon Denny don’t feel much like socializin’, after ropin’ cows all day,” Dan said. “Give it time. We’re just into the first gather, and there’s a long trail when all the gathering’s done.”

  “We’ll be done with this gather before the week’s out,” Denny said. “Do we brand these cows or move on, come back and do it later?”

  “We’ll do this from start to finish,” Dan said, “and that includes the branding. I reckon we can do it in a day, easy, with twelve roping teams at work. And when we’re done, we’ll take the herd with us to the next gather.”

  “That’s going to be dangerous,” Adeline said, “when we get to your range. You said Ledoux’s using your cabin for a headquarters.”

  “Far as I know he is,” Dan said. “Before we get to my range, I aim to talk to the rest of the men. We’ll still be a week away from taking the trail, but I’d like to go ahead and bring in Chato and his bunch. I believe they’re equal to anybody Ledoux can send after us.”

  “If you’re going to use them at all,” Lenore said in a rare outburst, “I don’t see why you didn’t hire them starting July first. That’s when everybody’s taxes are due, and that’s when he takes our land. After that, can’t he just claim all the cows on each ranch and stop us from taking them?”

  “Lenore,” Adeline said, “you’re out of line. This is men’s business.”

  “No,” Dan said, “she’s done some serious thinking, and she’s touched on something that may become a problem. As we near that July first deadline, I aim to talk to the men about this. We may well have to negotiate some more with Chato. We’ll finish the first gather this week, includin’ the branding. Working seven days a week, we’ll have sixty days before Ledoux’s tax deadline. That means we can likely finish a dozen gathers, following this one. We’ll have eight gathers ahead of us before we can begin the drive, so We can’t take the trail north before September first. That means we’ll have a good eight weeks of branding cows off range we no longer own. That’s what Lenore’s lookin’ at, and it’s an important possibility we can’t afford to ignore.”

  For a moment Lenore’s eyes met his, and then she turned quickly away. There was a prolonged silence, eventually broken by Adeline.

  “Dan, if you must have a thousand cows, do you have to risk your life by taking them from right under Burton Ledoux’s nose? With all the natural increase, we can easily gather two thousand head from our place, and without the risk. Please don’t let your pride get in the way of your common sense.”

  “Well, if we’re going to be sensible about it,” Dan said, “do we need a thousand head for you and a thousand head for me?”

  “Not as far as I’m concerned,” Adeline said. “I’m surprised somebody hasn’t objected to us having twice as many cows as everybody else. Instead of risking a fight with Ledoux’s bunch over cattle from your old range, why not just take a thousand head from our place and let it go?”

  “That would likely get the trail drive started a week sooner,” Dan said. “I’ll suggest it to the rest of the outfit, and while I’m about it, I aim to at least have them consider Lenore’s suggestion. Once we’re past Ledoux’s tax deadline, I don’t doubt he’ll try to claim every cow on every spread he’s able to get his hands on.”
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  When Dan began saddling up for the third watch, he found Adeline awake.

  “I’d like to ride with you awhile, if you don’t mind,” she said. “I can see we’re not going to have much time alone.”

  “I’ll saddle your horse,” Dan said.

  The seven riders circled the area, three in one direction and four in the other. Dan and Adeline rode awhile in silence. Finally she spoke.

  “I don’t know what came over Lenore tonight, but you handled it well. It was … well, like she wanted you to notice her, to approve of her.”

  “She seems skittish around me,” Dan said. “That time I went with the two of you to the river, I don’t believe she thought I was goin’ to stop shy of watching the two of you get into the water. Then, when she saw somebody in the bushes and screamed, I came on the run. I reckon I really got on the bad side of her over that.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. She knows that, although it embarrassed the life out of her. So much has happened in the past few weeks. After Denny found you, I made her help me tend your wounds. Then Barnabas—her father —came home, and it seemed like he’d lost his mind. God help us all, we wished he had never come back, but I think it hit Lenore the hardest. She was just getting to know you, and you were forced to leave. Then Barnabas kept us all scared half to death until he was killed. And finally, that disgraceful move that Burton Ledoux made toward her … ”

  “I reckon she’s more of a woman than she realizes,” Dan said. “God, my ma was just fourteen when I was born.”

  “You’ve never spoken of your parents.”

  “No reason to,” he said. “They died in a Comanche attack when I was not quite nineteen.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s a meddlesome question I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Time has a way of healing just about everything.”

  Their first night with the growing herd passed uneventfully, and after the second day’s roping, their gather lacked reaching five hundred by only a few head.

  “We can step it up some,” Cash Connelly said, “and finish a gather in four days. On the fifth day, we can wind up the branding.”

  “I think we can start the drive a week sooner than we might have,” Dan said. “I’d like to suggest a slight change in plans, and I’ll talk to you about it after supper, before the first watch rides out.”

  When supper was done, after the women had begun the cleanup, Dan spoke to them about eliminating the twenty-first gather, which was to have been his own. Instead, he proposed that he and Adeline take a thousand head from the DeVoe range. He said nothing of their personal feelings or of their plans when the drive was finished, but every man understood and approved.

  “I’m in favor of that,” Wolf Bowdre said, “for more than one reason. Is there any of you that don’t think it’s a smart move? Let’s hear it for Dan and Miz Adeline.”

  There were shouts of approval from the men and smiles from the women. But Daniel Ember wasn’t finished.

  “I appreciate your support,” he said. “Now I think there’s something else we ought to consider. We’re all facing the same tax deadline of July first. After that, we’re going to be roping and branding cattle from lands that legally belong to Burton Ledoux. We’ll still be two months away from starting our drive, and we’ll be wide open to whatever retaliation Ledoux may choose. It’s been suggested to me that we bring Chato and his men across the river two months early, to watch our backs while we rope and brand cows, and to guard against sneak attacks at night. I believe it’s worth considering. What do the rest of you think?”

  “Hell, no,” Rux Carper bawled. “Not at a hundred dollars a man for two more months.”

  “Them’s my sentiments,” said Aubin Chambers. “Damn it, there’s twenty-one of us, and our womenfolk can shoot if they have to.”

  “Forget I mentioned it,” Dan said. “I reckon we’ll just wait until after July first and see what happens.”

  Chambers looked upon Dan with some disfavor for having made so foolish a suggestion, but the time was coming when he would regret the small victory he thought he had won.

  “I tally one thousand and fifteen head,” Dan said late Thursday afternoon. “Tomorrow we’ll brand them, and Saturday we’ll move on to Sloan Kuykendall’s place.”

  Uvalde, Texas. April 29, 1870.

  On Friday, Burton Ledoux returned to his headquarters near Uvalde, the cabin that had once belonged to Dan Ember. The two men Ledoux had left there relayed the message brought to them by Dud Willett.

  “One of you ride to San Antonio,” Ledoux said. “I want you to fetch Vance, Sumner, Byler,. Rowden, Collins, Savage, and Campbell. I think we’ll call on some of these cow outfits and see for ourselves.”

  Ledoux bit off the end of a cigar and spat it on the floor. On one wall hung a tattered calendar, and he studied it, counting the days. So they had banded together, preparing for a drive, had they? There was no way they could rope and brand enough cows before his July first deadline, and then the cattle would no longer be theirs. Damn them, they had some learning to do, and he would be the one to teach them.

  Maverick County, Texas. May 1, 1870.

  On Sunday morning Silas and the seven wagons led out, bound for Sloan Kuykendall’s place. The women, sons, and daughters followed the herd, riding drag. The men were split up into flank and swing positions, keeping the herd moving. The few days in the holding pens, followed by branding, had done little to civilize the longhorns, and they attempted to break away at every opportunity. The seven miles to the Kuykendall place took most of the day.

  “Well, hell,” Spence Wilder said, “it’ll cost us a day between each gather, just gettin’ to the next place. We haven’t counted on that.”

  “It’s not time wasted,” Dan said. “By the time we begin the drive, most of our herd will be trailwise. The last three or four gathers will need some settlin’ down, but seventy-five percent of our bunch will have realized they’re a herd by the time we take the trail north.”

  They set up camp two miles south of the Kuykendall cabin, preparing to begin the gather on Monday morning. Thunderheads began moving in from the west, and they barely managed to get through supper before the rain began. Many of the families had brought extra wagon canvas, and there was shelter for the bedrolls. Dan and the DeVoes shared shelter with the Kuykendalls. When Dan was awakened for the third watch, the rain had ceased. Dawn broke with clear skies and laughter around the breakfast fires. Optimism ran high, and with thoughts of the first successful gather strong on their minds, they began the second.

  Maverick County, Texas. Monday, May 2, 1870.

  Ledoux and his seven men reined up before the deserted DeVoe cabin.

  “Collins,” Ledoux said, “take a look inside.”

  Collins dismounted, peered through the cabin’s half-open door, then stepped inside. In a moment he returned.

  “Nobody there,” Collins said. “Bunks is all been stripped, and no clothes that I could see.”

  “They’ve pulled out, then,” Ledoux said. “We’ll ride on to Hamby’s store.”

  Ledoux led out, and they rode to the village that had been Eagle Pass, to find it completely deserted. Even the livery had been closed.

  “Come on,” Ledoux said. “Let’s try Hamby’s ranch.”

  Finding Hamby’s cabin deserted, they rode eastward, toward Kuykendall’s, and eventually struck the trail left by the cattle gathered on Silas’s range.

  “They’re trailin’ right smart of a herd,” Vance said. “What are we goin’ to do when we catch up to ‘em?”

  “Just follow my lead,” Ledoux said, “and don’t do anything unless I tell you to.”

  They came upon the holding pen first, quickly erected so that the cattle could drink from a spring runoff. The plain was flat, and in the distance was the white of wagon canvas beneath a stand of live oak.

  “Must be nearly a thousand cows in that bunch,” Byler said, “and I’d swear I’ve seen that st
ar-in-a-circle brand somewhere before.”

  “Hell, Byler, you should have,” Campbell said. “Ever’ Ranger in Texas is wearin’ it.”

  Ledoux and his companions rode on, reining up well before they reached the camp. Confronting them was Amy Wilder, Fanny Bowdre, Tamara Elfego, and Adeline DeVoe. The four of them had rifles cocked and ready, and it was Adeline DeVoe who spoke.

  “You aren’t welcome here, Ledoux.”

  “Ah,” Ledoux said, “it’s come to this, has it? I regret that I have no time for you ladies. I believe it’s time I had a serious talk with your men.”

  “We can save you some time,” Fanny Bowdre said. “Our men will tell you to turn your horses around and ride away from here, and that’s what we’re tellin’ you to do.”

  Ledoux trotted his horse forward, and Fanny blasted a slug into the dirt beneath the animal’s feet. Frightened, the horse threw Ledoux and galloped back the way it had come. One of Ledoux’s companions caught the reins as Ledoux got up and recovered his hat. Some of Ledoux’s men had their hands on the butts of their Colts, but Ledoux shook his head.

  “You will be seeing me again, ladies,” Ledoux said coldly. “You and your men.” He mounted, turned his horse and rode away, his men following.

  “Perro, “ Tamara Elfego said, “hijo de asno. Chato kill you dead.”

  Dan, Wolf Bowdre, and Rufe Keeler rode up just minutes after Ledoux and his men had ridden away.

  “We heard the shot,” Dan said. “Ledoux?”

  “Him and seven others,” Adeline replied. “Fanny fired and frightened Ledoux’s horse. It threw him. Before they rode away, Ledoux said we’d be seeing him again.”

  “I’ve been expecting this,” Dan said. “Somebody talked, and Ledoux came to see for himself. He’s seen our gather, and he won’t have any trouble figurin’ out what we aim to do. When he’s had time to think about it, he’ll know we can’t possibly finish these gathers before his July first tax deadline. I don’t doubt he aims to come after us, but I think he’ll do it legally. He has time on his side, and it’s our enemy.”