“So that bastard Ledoux was somehow involved in all that shootin’ that went on to the north of us,” Chad Grimes said.
“It looks that way,” Dan said.
“We have no proof,” Wolf said, “but we think Ledoux had come up with some riders—maybe renegades from Indian Territory—and had planned to take the herd. After ambushing us, of course.”
“So Chato and his bunch figured it out and set up an ambush of their own,” Skull said.
Dan nodded. “That’s about the way we’ve pieced it together. Looks like Ledoux and a pair of his men escaped, only to have a falling out among themselves. I believe the man who killed Ledoux and the other man is a brute with a whip who almost beat me to death after Ledoux took my spread. Ledoux had been cut to ribbons. We identified him by his fancy boots.”
“All we know for sure,” Wolf said, “is that if any trouble lies ahead of us, Burton Ledoux won’t be the cause of it. I didn’t see a thing that I’d think the post commander at Fort Dodge would find interesting.”
“Neither did I,” Dan said.
Fort Dodge, Kansas. Wednesday, January 4, 1871.
An hour before sundown Dan and the outfit bedded down the herd on the south bank of the Arkansas, within sight of Fort Dodge.
“That’s it?” Fanny Bowdre asked, incredulous. “I thought there would be a town.”
“There will be,” Dan said. “From what we learned at Camp Supply, there’s a town under way on the north bank of the Arkansas, eight miles west of here. I think we’ll make our presence known to the post commander first.”
Colonel McLean greeted them cordially.
“I don’t look for the rails for at least another year,” McLean said, “but that shouldn’t stop you from selling your herd. Joseph McCoy’s already here. You may have heard of him. He made a fortune when the first herds came up the Chisholm Trail to Abilene.”*
“No,” Dan said, “I haven’t heard of him, but I’ll track him down and talk to him. We aim to keep some of our herd for seed cattle and settle on some land, maybe to the north or to the west of here. I reckon the Indians are a problem.”
“Unfortunately,” McLean said, “but I look for that to change once the rails get here. There’ll be more settlers,
and I’ve been promised more men, with better arms. If you’re thinking about ranching along the Arkansas, then you’d best not waste any time getting to the land office. The speculators are already sniffing around.”
“There’s a land office?”
“You bet there is,” McLean said. “There’s even a hotel, a barbershop, a livery, and several decent cafes.”
Dan and Wolf rode back across the Arkansas and took the time before supper to relay the information they had received from Colonel McLean.
“We can sell some cows here,” Duncan Kilgore said, “but we don’t have to ranch in the shadow of the fort. He’s right about the railroad bringin’ more settlers, and I purely don’t like the sound of that. I reckon I’d as soon move on west, maybe to eastern Colorado Territory.”
“That’s kind of the way I feel,” Kirby Wilkerson said.
“There’s time enough to settle that,” Dan said. “Once we’ve sold as much of the herd as we intend to sell, we can talk about where we aim to settle. I think tomorrow some of us ought to ride upriver to where the town’s being built. If this Joseph McCoy made a pile in Abilene, then he should have the money to buy from us.”
“That don’t mean he’ll pay a fair price,” Boyce Trevino said. “If the railroad’s more than a year away, he’ll have a considerable wait for his money.”
“That’s why we have to meet with him,” Dan said. “To see if he can pay us our asking price and make his money when he resells in the eastern markets.”
“What is our asking price?” Aubin Chambers wanted to know.
“I’m considering starting at thirty-five dollars a head,” Dan replied. “Do any of you disagree with that?”
“I do,” Chambers said, surprising them all. “I think it’s a mite high.”
“Maybe,” Dan said, “but you start high and come down. If we could sell at thirty, without waiting for the railroad, I’d suggest we sell.”
“Si,” Palo Elfego said.
The others shouted their agreement.
“Bueno, “ Dan said. “Tomorrow, some of us will ride in and talk to McCoy.”
But the Texans didn’t have to ride to town. The next morning, following their arrival, men rode out on horseback, on mules, and in buckboards. Mostly they just looked in awe. Nobody had ever seen so many long-horns in one bunch. But one rider—a soldier from Fort Dodge—was more than an observer.
“I’m Sergeant Beckham,” he said when Dan approached him. “I’m the post quartermaster, and I’m hoping you have some horses to sell.”
“We do,” Dan said. “Our remuda. Come along and have a look at them.”
When they reined up near the grazing animals, Beckham whistled long and low. “How many, and how much?” he asked.
“A hundred,” Dan said, “but I don’t own them. I’ll have to get with the owners and get back to you.”
“Do that, please,” Beckham replied.
It presented a problem, for Dan had no idea how much Chato wanted for the animals. When the quartermaster had ridden away, Dan went to Palo Elfego.
“Palo, I should have spoken to you about this much sooner. Do you know how much Chato expects to get for these horses he aims for us to sell?”
“Fi’ty dollar,” Palo said.
“I won’t let them go for that,” Dan said. “Broke to the saddle and no brands, they’re worth twice that. Suppose Chato gets more than fifty dollars?”
Palo shrugged his shoulders. Dan rode to Fort Dodge and asked to see Sergeant Beckham.
“A hundred dollars a head,” Dan said.
“I won’t deny they’re worth it,” Beckham replied, “but I can’t pay that much. Suppose I buy them all. Will you take seventy-five?”
“Yes,” Dan said, “but I’ll need it in gold.”
“That’ll be a strain,” Beckham said, “but I believe I can raise it. Let me talk to Colonel McLean, and I’ll get back to you before the end of the day.”
Nobody in the outfit—especially the horse wranglers —wanted to see Chato’s horses go.
“Damn it,” Denny DeVoe said, “why don’t we buy them?”
“A little matter of us not having the money,” Dan said, “and we don’t know when we’ll be able to sell the herd. If the army doesn’t take them, and if we get no more offers, maybe we can hold on to them for a while. But in fairness to Chato, we can’t refuse a decent offer.”
Within two hours a private arrived bearing a message from Sergeant Beckham. Dan was to come to Fort Dodge, bringing a wagon.
“He has the gold,” Dan said. “Wolf, Palo, Tobe, and Kirby, I’ll want you riding along, and bring your Winchesters.”
“We can handle it with a wagon,” Tobe said, “but what about Chato? God Almighty, that’s 37,500 double eagles.”
“I reckon that’ll have to be Chato’s problem,” Dan said, “and I doubt it will bother him near as much as tryin’ to cash Yankee greenbacks. Eh, Palo?”
“Si,” Palo agreed. “Oro muy bueno.”
Dan and his five companions reached the fort’s massive gates, and by order of Sergeant Beckham, the wagon was allowed to enter. Reaching Beckham’s office, they found two corporals outside—one on each side of the door—their rifles at port arms. Beckham himself opened the door.
“Wait out here,” Dan told his companions. He entered the office and Beckham closed the door behind him.
“Glad you brought some armed men with you,” Beckham said. “Even with most of Dodge yet to be built, there’s been killings and robberies. I hope you have a secure place to store all this coin.”
“I aim to deliver it to the owners of the horses,” Dan replied. “What they do with it is up to them. If you have pen, paper, and ink, I’ll write you a bill of
sale.”
Using a corner of Beckham’s desk, Dan wrote and signed the bill of sale. He then dated it and passed it to Sergeant Beckham.
“Now,” Dan said, “after we’ve loaded the gold, come with me to the front gate. From there I’ll signal my riders, and they’ll drive the horses across the river.”
The gold was in fifteen canvas sacks, 2500 double eagles per sack. Dan hefted one with both hands, barely getting it off the floor.
“You’re welcome to count it if you wish,” Beckham said with a grin.
“No, thanks,” Dan replied. “You look like an honest man.”
When the wagon reached the fort’s gates, Dan waved his hat. Across the river the horse wranglers got the herd moving. Dan drove the wagon through the gates, clearing the way for the horse herd. Beckham stood on one side of the entrance and a corporal on the other, each of them taking a tally as the horses were driven through. Satisfied with the count, Beckham gave them a thumbs-up. Dan drove the wagon to a shallow crossing, followed by his four riders. When they reached the camp, he spoke to Wolf Bowdre.
“Wolf, since this is your wagon, I want you to take full charge of it and the gold until Chato claims it. Get Monte to join you, so you’ll have a four-man guard. I have plans for Palo.”
Palo followed Dan, and when they could speak in private, Dan reined up.
“Palo,” Dan said, “you are our contact with Chato. Can you reach him sometime tonight?”
“Si,” Palo said.
“Tell him the wagon will be heavily guarded, and that he is to come to us alone. We will then remove our guards from the wagon, allowing him to take the gold in whatever manner he wishes. Comprender?”
“Si,” Palo said. He mounted his horse and rode south.
By the time Dan turned his attention to the herd, he found the curiosity seekers had all ridden away.
“None of them were serious,” Boyce Trevino said. “With the railroad still months away, I doubt we’ll find many takers. Not at our price.”
“We came here prepared to wait for the railroad,” Dan said, “and if that’s what it takes, then we’ll wait. That’s how it is with speculators. They want to take advantage of our impatience, buying low and selling high.”
Palo Elfego didn’t return until almost dark. He spoke briefly to Dan and then went after his supper. Dan rode to the Bowdre wagon, which had been set well apart from the others, near a stand of cottonwoods.
“Chato and his boys will be here sometime after midnight,” Dan told the guards. “Chato’s been told not to approach the wagon alone or with any of his men until he’s spoken to me. He’ll come to the wagon with me, and then one at a time he’ll replace all of you with his men.”
Except for the four guards, Dan was careful to keep his riders well away from the Bowdre wagon. When the men saddled up for the second watch, Dan and Palo hunkered down by the embers of a fire where a coffeepot still simmered. Filling their tin cups, they waited, and at some signal only Palo heard, he got to his feet. Chato was coming. There was no moon, and the Indian seemed to suddenly appear from nowhere. Dan got to his feet. Palo spoke a few rapid words in Spanish and began a slow walk toward the distant wagon. Dan walked behind him, followed by the cat-footed Chato.
“Hold your fire,” Dan said quietly as they drew near the wagon.
The four riders guarding the wagon came together with Dan and Palo, and Palo spoke to Chato in rapid Spanish.
“Gracias,” Chato said.
Palo walked away, back the way they had come. Dan and the others were at his heels, none of them looking * back. Not until they reached their camp did they again look toward the distant wagon. They saw nothing, not even a shadow. Palo said nothing until the next morning. Right after breakfast he spoke to Dan.
“Venir. You, me, Senor Wolf.”
Having not the slightest idea what Palo had in mind, Dan saddled his horse and got Wolfs attention. They mounted and followed Palo south until they reached a secluded draw half a dozen miles away. From the draw a horse nickered, and Wolf’s horse answered. Dan and Wolf slowed their mounts, but Palo rode on, unconcerned. Dan and Wolf reluctantly followed, unsure as to what lay ahead. The little draw was full of horses. Bays, roans, duns, and blacks, every one saddled. Dan counted nineteen of the animals.
“My God,” Bowdre said, “Mex brands and Mex saddles. There’s enough silver to start a mint.”
“Palo,” Dan said, “what are we expected to do with these animals?”
“Chato give,” Palo said. “You take.”
“But why?” Wolf wondered.
“You honorado Tejanos,” Palo said. “Mucho oro.”*
“It’s Chato’s way of thanking us for the extra gold,” Dan said. “He had asked fifty dollars a head, and he’s getting seventy-five.”
“He hasn’t had time to count it,” Wolf said. “How does he know?”
“I suspect Palo told him,” Dan said with a grin. “Palo, these cayuses belonged to the hombres that aimed to ambush us, didn’t they?”
“Si,” Palo said. “Mejicano bandidos.”
“Kind of far north for Mexican bandits,” Wolf said, “unless they was followin’ us.”
“Si,” Palo said. “That be so.”
“That sneakin’ bastard, Burton Ledoux,” Wolf said. “He got himself a bunch of Mex bandits, aimin’ to steal the herd from us once we got them near enough to Dodge.”
“Si,” Palo said. “Mejicanos hate Chato, Mejicano Indios.”
“Let’s get these horses back to camp,” Dan said. “We can use them.”
“No bill of sale, I reckon,” Wolf said.
It was cowboy humor at its worst. They laughed and set about rounding up the horses.
“Ma,” Denny DeVoe begged, “it ain’t like I was askin’ to ride to Wichita. I just want to ride into Dodge. Pablo’s goin’, Gid’s goin’, and Eagle will be ridin’ with us. What could happen?”
“I don’t know,” Adeline replied. “All I know is that once you start carrying a gun, you’re considered a man. When Dan returns, I’ll talk to him.”
“Oh, damn,” Denny said, “the others will go without me.
“I don’t think so,” Adeline said. “Palo’s with Dan, and I doubt Pablo will be going without his father’s permission.”
There was considerable excitement when Dan, Wolf, and Palo rode in with the nineteen horses. While Denny had an eye for the newly acquired horses, he wasted no time in beseeching Dan to plead his case with Adeline.
“I only want to ride into Dodge with Pablo, Gid, and Eagle,” Denny said. “I never been to town in my whole life.”
“I’ll take your side,” Dan said, “only if you leave your rifle in camp.”
“Oh, damn,” Denny said in disgust, “you sound just like Ma.”
“She’s been giving me lessons,” Dan said. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it,” Denny replied. “Can I go now?”
“After you’ve cleared it with your ma,” Dan said. “What I’ve said don’t mean doodly if she says no. Come on, I’ll go with you.”
Adeline and most of the other women were at the river, washing clothes in the shallows. Adeline got to her feet as Dan and Denny rode up.
“I don’t think a ride to town will hurt him,” Dan said, “if he leaves the gun behind.”
“See that he does, then,” Adeline said, “and he can go.”
Dan took the rifle from Denny’s saddle boot, and he went galloping away to join his companions.
“I’m a mite surprised at Eagle wanting to go to town,” Dan said. “That’s not usually the way of an Indian.”
“Eagle’s young,” Adeline replied, “no more than a boy, and he’s influenced by the others. I hope they don’t get into any trouble.”
“That’s the painful part of growin’ up,” Dan said. “If they’re going to become men, they’ll have to learn to ride their own broncs. You just naturally get throwed and stomped once in a while. It kind of goes wit
h the territory.”
Gid Kilgore led out, followed by Pablo, Denny, and Eagle. The Cheyenne wore his Colt, and was the only one of the four who was armed. They followed the Arkansas west, crossing when they reached a shallow place. They reined up when they came within sight of the few buildings that comprised the new town. Most were log huts, but the two-story hotel was built of lumber. They rode on, passing a pair of tents that served as saloons. Next to the hotel was a hurriedly erected shack that served as a cafe. A crudely painted sign simply said Grub.
“I never been in a hotel before,” Gid Kilgore said. “Let’s stop there.”
There were three other horses at the hitch rail. Eagle’s horse jostled one of the other horses, and the animal nickered. A heavy, dark-haired man with a whip coiled on his left shoulder stepped out of the hotel. He fixed cruel eyes on Eagle, and then he spoke.
“A damn Injun,” he growled. “I don’t like Injuns, especially them that messes with my hoss. I aim to teach you a lesson, boy.” He began uncoiling the deadly whip.
“The Indian didn’t hurt your horse,” said a voice behind him. “Back off.”
Slowly, Black Bill turned around, and found himself facing two young men in town clothes, wearing narrow-brimmed hats. It was the younger of the two who had spoken, and he held a cocked Colt in his right hand. Black Bill recoiled the whip, and when he spoke, his voice wasn’t much more than a vicious whisper.
“They’s one thing I hate more’n Injuns, and that’s some damn tenderfoot with lace on his drawers pokin’ his nose where it don’t belong. I ain’t gonna be forget-tin’ you, mister.”
“See that you don’t,” said the young man with the Colt. “I’ll be here a few days. I’m James B. Masterson, and this is my brother, Ed. He’ll keep an eye on my back. Now whatever you have to do, you’ll be doing it elsewhere. Mount up and ride.”*
Black Bill mounted and rode west, not looking back.
Masterson holstered his Colt. Eagle said nothing, and there was a painful silence. Denny finally found his voice.
“Thanks, Mr. Masterson. Eagle didn’t do nothin’ to him. We just rode in to see the town. Our outfit’s downriver a ways, near Fort Dodge.”
The Dodge City Trail Page 28