The Dodge City Trail

by Ralph Compton

  They all returned to their duties in a more somber mood, taking word to the rest of the outfit. After supper, Adeline spoke to Dan.

  “I’m dreading July first. Like you said, he’ll hide behind the law. Why shouldn’t he? Even with your beard grown out, I’m afraid he’ll recognize you and send the law after you with a murder warrant.”

  “He only saw me for a few seconds before the gunplay,” Dan said, “and I was skin and bones. The only two of his men who saw me close enough to know me are the two I killed, and if we’re attacked, I doubt Ledoux will ride with his killers.”

  Even as Dan sought to reassure Adeline, he wasn’t all that sure himself. Ledoux would know that somebody had organized the gathers and planned the trail drive, and he would likely have his doubts that any of it had been planned by the ranchers he expected to intimidate. After the July first deadline, there would be problems yet to be discussed with his outfit. One of them was the fact that the cattle they had gathered could no longer be grazed or watered on the land seized by Ledoux. The growing gather must be kept on free range, with riders to guard against stampedes. This, he thought bitterly, would have been suited to Chato and his men.

  When the day’s gather had been done and supper was behind them, Dan called the outfit together before the first watch saddled up.

  “I reckon all of you know Ledoux and his riders were here today,” he began, “so he knows what we’re planning to do. Today he didn’t have a legal leg to stand on, but after July first, we’ll be changing positions with him. What I aim to talk to you about is not an immediate problem, but it’s not too soon to consider it. Once we’ve forfeited our spreads—including grazing and water— we’ll be forced to find free range for the cows we’ve gathered. By my figures, we should have thirteen thousand head by July first, and amigos, that’s goin’ to take one hell of a lot of graze. I reckon we can manage that, and I’ll come back to it, but there’s more. Wherever we graze these cows, we must have armed men there to protect them during the day, while we’re all at work on these final gathers. We leave them unprotected, even for a day, and Ledoux’s bunch will stampede them from hell to breakfast. As I see it, we’ll have to leave at least half our riders with the gather, heavily armed, just to prevent a stampede by Ledoux’s men.”

  “Hell, no,” Cash Connolly shouted. “With half the riders, it’ll take us two weeks to do a gather. We’ll still be brandin’ cows come Christmas.”

  “Leave our gather untended long enough for Ledoux’s bunch to stampede it,” Dan said, “and we’ll still be here next spring, roundin’ up the cattle we’ve already branded.”

  “We should of talked about this ‘fore we got neck deep in this damn trail drive,” Rux Carper said. “Now we’re caught between a rock and a hard place. We got to use half our riders to protect the branded stock, leavin’ us only half the men we need for the rest of the gathers.”

  “Talking about it sooner wouldn’t have changed anything,” Dan said. “We’d still be lacking the men necessary to guard the herd while we finish the gathers. I told you I’d come back to this, and I aim to. It involves graze and water for the cows already gathered and branded, after Ledoux takes over everybody’s range on July first. I want all of you to get together and draw up a rough map of Maverick, Kinney, Uvalde, and Zavala counties. I need to know where your boundaries adjoin one another, so that I’ll have some idea as to where the free range is. We can’t use any of your graze or water after July first, or we risk having Ledoux claim the gather. Do all of you understand what we have to do?”

  “I do,” Aubin Chambers said, “and it’s startin’ to look more impossible all the time.”

  “As I recall,” Skull Kimbrough said, “it was you that was agin us bringin’ in Chato and his bunch for protection startin’ July first, so’s we can finish these gathers.”

  “It was, by God,” Chambers said heatedly, “and I’m still against it. Why risk our lives getting a herd to market, and then pay out all the profits to a bunch of damn renegades?”

  “You have a little time,” Dan said. “None of this is likely to become a problem until after July first. Just keep in mind that I need that rough map of your boundaries, so I can begin looking for some free range we can use.”

  The riders on the first watch saddled up and rode out. Silas Hamby and some of the other riders wanted to talk to Dan.

  “That wasn’t such a bad idee,” Silas said, “bringin’ Chato and his riders on across the river. I’m thinkin’ that last two months of ropin’ and brandin’ cows may be more dangerous than the drive itself. You reckon I ought to talk to the rest of ‘em, and see if we can’t override Chambers?”

  “No,” Dan said. “With all our other problems, we can’t afford a fight within our own ranks. All of us agreed that we need more fighting men once we take the trail. I believe once Carper, Chambers, and some of the others have thought about it, they’ll see the need for more men now. But if they don’t, if they still need some convincing, then I expect Burton Ledoux to take care of that.”

  Dan was awakened for the third watch at two o’clock. The skies had clouded, with only an occasional star peeking through. The seven riders circled wide of the sleeping camp and the drowsing herd. When trouble came, it was from the sky, trailing sparks from a fast burning fuse. Dynamite! A second charge was only seconds behind the first, and they both let go above the herd. A tidal wave would have been easier to control than the stampede that resulted, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Rifles roared out of the darkness, and slugs ripped into wagon canvas, and there were cries of pain. Dan and the riders on the third watch fired at muzzle flashes, but their own muzzle flashes drew fire. It all ended as suddenly as it had begun. A cow bawled somewhere, and a woman was screaming. Some of the riders had ridden after the running herd, while some of those who had been sleeping were firing from within the camp.

  “Damn it,” Dan shouted, “hold your fire. It’s over. Those of you from the third watch, come on in.”

  There was the dull glow of lanterns through canvas shelters, and cries from those who had been wounded. Fanny Bowdre was bleeding from a wound in her left shoulder. Skull Kimbrough had taken a slug through his left thigh, Rux Carper had a bloody burn across his backside, and there were other wounds that Dan had to investigate later. He was working his way toward the shelter where the woman had been screaming. The screams had subsided into heartbroken sobs, and in the dim light of the lantern Dan could see Aubin Chambers with his face buried in his hands. He and Odessa knelt before the bloodied body of their only child, fifteen-year-old Alesia. Dan knelt beside Chambers, a comforting arm about the man’s shoulders, and Chambers broke down, sobbing with his stricken wife. Others soon were there, including Adeline DeVoe, and someone spread a blanket over the dead girl. Adeline knelt beside Dan with a whispered request.

  “Lenore’s been hit. It’s not serious, but she’s scared. I wish you’d go talk to her. Denny’s there, but he’s not much help.”

  Dan found Lenore with Denny, as well as Kirby and Hattie Kuykendall. Lenore lay on her back, a bloody bandage around her right thigh. Adeline was right behind Dan, and when she nodded to the Kuykendalls, they left. Denny, for once, didn’t need to be told. He followed the Kuykendalls. Dan knelt beside the silent Lenore.

  “I think,” he told the girl, “your suggestion was a good one. I don’t believe this would have happened if we’d had Chato and his men out there with us. We’re goin’ to boil some water, and then we’ll take care of your wound. Is it hurting you?”

  Lenore said nothing. To his surprise, she reached for him, and he held her close while she wept. When her tears and trembling had ceased, he eased her down and got to his feet.

  “Get her ready,” Dan said. “If somebody doesn’t have a pot of water on the fire, I’ll see to it. Then I’ll find Silas. He has a medicine chest in his wagon.”

  Silas already had a fire going, and so did several others. Most of the men wandered through the camp with their rifles, seekin
g to comfort those who had been wounded. To Dan’s surprise, Aubin Chambers stepped out of the night, into the light of the fire where Dan and Silas stood. Chamber’s face was twisted with grief, but there was fury in his eyes, and Dan prepared himself for the worst.

  “Ember,” Chambers said, “I’ve been a damn fool. You were right, and God help me, I’ve traded my little girl’s life for what it would have cost to pay for some protection. I’m going to finish these gathers, finish this drive, and by God, if you don’t kill Burton Ledoux, then I will. Come first light, I want you to call everybody together and let’s talk about bringing Chato and his men across the river. I don’t care if they are killers. I’ll side you till hell freezes. Will you take my hand, after what I’ve done?”

  “I will,” Dan said, and he did.

  6

  Nobody slept the rest of the night. Only Alesia Chambers had been killed, but there were a dozen wounded. There had been little Dan could do, and he had assisted Adeline in the cleaning and disinfecting of Lenore’s wound. As Adeline had already determined, it wasn’t serious, although it had seemed far worse as the result of much bleeding.

  “Now,” Dan told the girl, “we’re even. You helped patch me up, and I’ve done the same for you.”

  A grave had been dug for Alesia Chambers, and the girl was laid to rest at sunrise. From a worn Bible, Silas Hamby read the word over her, and before Spence Wilder and Duncan Kilgore filled the grave, the rest of the outfit walked sorrowfully back to camp. The women set about preparing breakfast, and even before it was done, Aubin Chambers had called the men together. Without asking permission from anybody, he spoke.

  “Gents, I want every man of you to know I made a big mistake, and I paid for it today. You remember Dan Ember suggestin’ we bring Chato and his men north for our protection durin’ the gather? Damn fool that I was, all I could see was what it would cost us. Now look what it’s cost me. I’m backtrackin’ on everything I said. I say let’s hire Chato and his riders to stick with us through the rest of this gather, as well as takin’ the trail to Dodge at the end of it. And I say we offer ‘em the same money to ride with us here as we’re payin’ ‘em on the trail.”

  Dan said nothing. His eyes were on the rest of the men, and their eyes met those of their women. Chambers’s words were strong, but not nearly as strong as the memory of young Alesia Chambers being lowered into her grave.

  “He’s right,” Ward McNelly shouted. “Let’s do what we should have done when Daniel Ember suggested it. Ledoux’s got his killers. Let’s hire some fighting men of our own. Let’s send for Chato and his bunch, and do it now.”

  There were shouts of approval from the rest of the outfit, with some of the women joining in. Dan turned to Palo Elfego.

  “You heard them, Palo. Get word to Chato. Tell him he’s needed here while we finish the gathers. A hundred dollars a month for him and each of his men for as many months as it takes to finish this gather. Fighting wages.”

  “Si,” Palo said. He beckoned to Pablo, his fourteen-year-old son. The boy listened as Palo spoke swiftly in Spanish. Pablo then mounted his horse and rode south in a slow gallop.

  “That’s all we can do until we hear from Chato,” Dan said. “The blasts killed three cows. Some of you dress them out, salvage the hides and as much of the meat as you can. The rest of us will begin gathering the scattered cattle.”

  Wounded, Skull Kimbrough was unable to go. Silas Hamby took it upon himself to skin the three cows, and Ward McNelly offered to help.

  “Let me go with you,” Odessa Chambers said. “I must have something to do, or I’ll lose my mind.”

  “I go,” Tamara Elfego said.

  Dan and the rest of the men who were able to ride set out to find the stampeded cattle. From the looks of the tracks, it wasn’t going to be easy.

  “They’ve split seven ways from Sunday,” Dan said. “No man rides alone. There’s eighteen of us. We’ll ride in twos. When you find a bunch, head ‘em back this way and ride on. When they start to thin out, ride back, pickin’ up each bunch as you come in. We’ll get the nearest ones first, and then we’ll all ride together for the rest of them.”

  It was slow work, and with the sun just an hour away from the western horizon, Dan ran a quick tally.

  “We’re still missin’ three hundred, and I reckon we’ll have to do a hell of a lot of ridin’ to find the others. For sure we’ll never find ‘em before sundown, and we can’t afford such a loss, so we’ll have to hunt them tomorrow.”

  “Two days shot to hell,” Wolf Bowdre groaned. “We purely can’t afford any more stampedes.”

  They drove the recovered cattle back to the area where they had been bedded down the night before, near a small stream. After supper Dan called the men together.

  “Until we have more men, I’m eliminating the third watch. There’ll be only two, and we’ll change at midnight. Those of you with the first ten numbers will take the first watch, and the rest, includin’ me, will take the second. Does anybody object to that?”

  “After last night,” Rufe Keeler said, “I think it’s a damn good idea.”

  Nobody disagreed with that. With Skull Kimbrough wounded, they had ten riders for each watch. Dan sat with his back against an oak, talking to Adeline. Lenore was within the shelter afforded by Sloan Kuykendall’s extra wagon canvas, and Denny was elsewhere in the camp.

  “It’s been a terrible day in some ways,” Adeline said, “and a wonderful one in others. I’m just sick over the Chambers child being killed, and I’m completely mystified by Lenore’s behavior. When I found she’d been shot, I don’t remember what I did or what I said, but it was as though she didn’t even know I was there. She seemed in shock, and she didn’t come out of it until she saw you. Thank you for taking care of her wound. She had me so unnerved, I’m not sure I could have done it. She’s taken to the Kuykendalls, and I’m going to leave her with them tonight. Why don’t you go and say good night to her?”

  When Dan stepped into the shelter, the Kuykendalls left him alone with the girl. While she had no greeting for him, she didn’t turn away or blush.

  “I just came to say good night and see how you’re feeling,” he said.

  “I feel … kind of guilty. Alesia Chambers is dead, and I—”

  “You’re not to blame for that,” Dan said. “Your suggestion was good, and we’ve sent for Chato and his men to ride with us throughout this gather, as well as for the drive to Dodge. Now you put all this out of your mind and rest.” He turned to go.

  “Dan?”

  He turned, and found her leaning on one elbow. “I’m glad you came back to us,” she said.

  “So am I,” he responded. He grinned at her and tipped his hat.

  The following morning at first light, Dan called the riders together right after breakfast.

  “These damn cows we’re missing have to have water. Not countin’ the Rio to the south of us, where’s the nearest creek or river?”

  “To the east, in Zavala County,” said Wolf Bowdre, whose spread was in that direction. “There’s the Nueces River, which is the closest sure water, and in the south-west part of Zavala, Cherokee lake. If the varmints have strayed that far, they’ll favor the Nueces. It’s brushy, with plenty of mesquite and prickly pear.”

  “That’s where they are,” Tobe Barnfield said. “Give cows a choice, and they’ll head for the thorniest, meanest damn county in Texas.”

  “That’s where we’re going, then,” Dan said. “We must find them today.”

  Wolf Bowdre led out. They rode north a ways to compensate for possible fanning out of the herd, and then rode eastward. The upper reaches of the Nueces was lined with live oak, pecan, and elm, and although there were tracks, they found no longhorns.

  “This is my range,” Bowdre said, “and these are likely the tracks of my cows. Way it’s warmed up, they’ll all be down yonder in the breaks. We’re too far north.”

  They rode south along the Nueces until it became choked with hea
d-high mesquite, where, with the exception of prickly pear, nothing else seemed to thrive.

  “We’ll split up in teams of two,” Dan said, “and work both sides of the river.”

  It was slow, hard work, and many of the cows they drove out of thickets were unbranded. The animals with the circle star brand had drifted downriver to the southernmost stretch of the Nueces. By late afternoon they had gathered 320, thirty of which were unbranded.

  “We’ll cut them out and brand them after we’re done with the Kuykendall gather,” Dan said. “Let’s get this bunch back to camp.”

  By the time they reached camp with the rest of the stampeded herd, it was suppertime, and Pablo Elfego had returned. He spoke to his father in Spanish, and Palo turned to Dan.

  “Chato and his riders have accepted our terms,” Palo said. “They will be here sometime before dawn. I am with the second watch. I will listen for the sound of their arrival.”

  That meant Chato would be arriving sometime after midnight. Dan began to consider his options, how he might best utilize these fighting men. Ledoux must eventually learn of their alliance with Chato, but Dan hoped by then his outfit might be finished with the gather and ready to begin the trail drive. Some of the other riders had questions as to the duties of the infamous Mexican band, and sought Dan after supper. Among the curious was Wolf Bowdre, and it was to him that Dan spoke.

  “Get everybody together,” he said. “If we’re going to discuss Chato and what we aim for him to do, then let’s do it before he gets here.”

  When Bowdre brought the men together, most of the women came with them. When they had all gathered, Dan spoke.

  “Chato and his men will be here sometime tonight. I have some ideas as to what I’d like them to do, but I’m open to suggestions.”