Ranger's Quest- The Beginning

by Edward Gates

  He quickly reached down and drew his gun from the holster in a quick-draw fashion but mishandled the gun. It sprang from his grip and fell to the floor. The hammer was on an empty cylinder so it didn’t discharge when it hit. In his embarrassment he reached down, picked up his gun and held it while he looked back at his reflection. Suddenly, he didn’t look so tough. Now he looked like that misfit time-traveler trying to be something he wasn’t.

  Charlie let out a deep sigh, placed the pistol back in the holster and secured it with the hammer strap. One more glance in the mirror. “What the hell are you doing? You’re not ready for this.” He sat on the bed, trying to quell his sudden anxiety attack.

  The argument he had with himself was brief. His choices were clear: He could return to his future and face the consequences, run away again to another town or another time, or go to work and embrace his new job and learn new skills.

  Charlie chuckled. There was really only one choice. He stood, picked up his valise, tipped his hat to the image in the mirror and headed for the warehouse.

  24

  On the Road

  It was midmorning when Charlie entered the warehouse. He stood just inside watching the workers scurry about. The foreman that he’d encountered the day before approached him.

  “Well, look at you! Max said I should keep a watch for you. You cleaned up pretty good.” He laughed.

  Charlie smiled. “Yeah, all courtesy of Max.”

  “Name’s Henry Dickson,” the foreman said as he held out his hand. “I keep this place running for Max.”

  “Charlie Turlock. Pleased to meet you,” Charlie said as he shook Henry’s hand. “Looks like you got your hands full with this place.”

  “Yep, I sure do. I’ll show you around.”

  Henry gave Charlie a tour of the facility. He showed him the storage areas where cargo was being held and the receiving areas for goods coming in. Henry explained how everything coming in or going out was recorded and tracked in their books. Charlie was fascinated by the fact that these men were doing all this manual labor and then keeping track of everything by pencil and paper. It was such a crude system to control all the shipping and receiving. Everything in his father’s storage buildings was automated. Robots picked up and moved cargo based on what the computers decided. There was no manual labor, no confusion or mix-ups and no paperwork.

  Charlie stopped as they passed by several barrels filled with fresh apples. The aroma made his mouth water.

  “Go ahead. Grab ya a couple,” Henry said.

  “Really? Can I?”

  Henry nodded. “Sure. We do it all the time. Besides, most of those are going with you anyway.” Charlie put two apples in his coat pocket and picked a third one to eat right away.

  Henry stopped at the staging areas where cargo was being readied for shipment. A number of wooden crates and supplies, along with two skids of equipment, were being loaded onto two large, heavy wagons. Each wagon had a team of six oxen hitched to it. Henry started going through the papers he was carrying, checking the crates and skids.

  Charlie had never seen an ox. In the twenty-third century, the closest he’d gotten to animals was through three-dimensional holograms, usually of historic animals. Being close to these animals took some getting used to. There had been an old milk cow at Clemens’s farm and it had taken him a while to get comfortable in the presence of such a large animal, but the ox was an even more massive beast and he was nervous just being around it. He slowly approached the oxen to get a closer look. When one of them shook its head and swished its tail, Charlie jumped and walked back to where Henry was standing.

  “What am I supposed to guard against, Henry?”

  Henry gave Charlie a quizzical look for a moment before he spoke. “Well, you’re there to handle any trouble that comes up. The driver’s got his hands full of those animals there so you have to watch out for him.”

  Charlie became a little scared. “Trouble? What kind of trouble are you talking about?”

  “Not much, really. We’re shipping out west so you won’t have to deal with the armies or the war.”

  Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. Then Henry continued.

  “You’ll have to go through the Indian Territory, though. No armies, but there could be some trouble there. Most of the Indians are okay with us going through their land. They usually let us be. Sometimes they don’t. If they see you, they’ll want to see what you’re haulin’. We usually end up in a trade with them. But the Indians ain’t the problem.”

  “What do you mean?” Charlie asked.

  “Every outlaw and lowlife drifter hides out in the Indian Territory. There’s no law there. No lawman or military unit has any jurisdiction in that territory. Anybody travelling through the Indian Territory is in danger of being ambushed by somebody. That’s why we send guards. At least one per wagon, sometimes two.”

  Charlie had never considered the perils of taking cargo through unfriendly areas. He began to perspire, the first sign of an anxiety attack. He smiled insincerely at Dickson.

  “This all mining equipment?” Charlie asked, changing the subject.

  “Mostly. A couple of hand pumps, some sluice boxes, tools, things for mining. It’s all shipping today to a hardware depot in Denver.” He looked at Charlie. “You’ll be going out with this.”

  The door to Max’s office opened and Charlie watched Max walk over to them carrying a rifle. Max handed him a Sharps breech-loading rifle and a box of cartridges. “Use this for long-range. You’ll need it for your meat. Henry tell you about all this?”

  “He said this is going to Colorado and I’ll be going with it.”

  “Well, he’s right about that. You look good, Charlie.”

  “I don’t know how I’m going to be able to pay you back for all this,” Charlie said.

  Max laughed. “Pay me back?” He slapped Charlie on his shoulder. “This ain’t a loan, son. That’s all coming out of your wages.” He laughed again. “Don’t worry about paying me back. By the time you get back you’ll have earned it. Believe me. You’ll earn every bit of it.”

  A cold chill crawled up Charlie’s spine. He turned from Max and watched the workers load and secure the mining equipment. His eyes couldn’t help but be drawn back to the terrifying animals hitched to the wagons.

  Max signaled Charlie to follow him outside to where four men stood talking, all seasoned teamsters and a lot older than Charlie. Charlie figured they were here because they were too old to get into the army. Max introduced the four men to Charlie: two drivers and two additional guards. They politely shook hands and nodded a greeting. Charlie felt that it was a rather cool welcome. He hoped it was just because he was new and not because he was young. He didn’t remember any of their names, he was too nervous to concentrate. Max and the four men continued in a conversation as if Charlie wasn’t there. He felt awkward and out of place.

  After the cargo and supplies were secured, Henry Dickson came out and handed a leather satchel to one of the men.

  “Here’s all your paperwork. Once you get this delivered, you know what to do next.”

  The man with the satchel nodded. Charlie watched and wondered what they were supposed to do after the cargo was delivered. He didn’t ask. He figured he’d find out when it happened.

  “Charlie, is it?” the driver with the satchel asked. Charlie nodded. “Well, come on. You’re up with me.”

  He followed the driver to the first wagon and walked around the rear, avoiding the oxen. Just before he climbed aboard, Max approached him.

  “Don’t worry about anything. They’re all good men. Give them a chance to get to know you. They’ll come around to you.” Charlie relaxed a bit with Max’s reassurance. “Dave Rudabaugh is a tough man, but he’s one of the best drivers in the business. He knows you’re new, that’s why you’re riding with him. He’s going to be hard on you, but you’ll learn a lot from him.”

  Charlie shook Max’s hand and smiled. “Thanks. I’ll be fine. See you when I
get back.”

  Max tightened his grip on Charlie’s hand to the point where it was a bit painful. He pulled Charlie a little closer to him. Charlie noticed that his eyes became dark and his face rigid.

  “Now, whatever you see and do on this trip, you keep to yourself. Got it? You just do what you’re told and don’t ask any questions. Okay?”

  Charlie was taken aback, but slowly nodded his agreement.

  With Charlie’s nod, Max’s eyes lightened and he smiled broadly. “Okay, then. Have a good trip.” He finally let go of Charlie’s hand, turned and headed back into the warehouse. Charlie stood and watched him disappear among the stacks of cargo, wondering what he meant by that last remark.

  “Come on, boy. Time’s a wastin’,” Dave shouted from the driver’s seat.

  Charlie slung his valise and bedroll into the wagon, stashed the rifle and cartridges under the seat and climbed up next to the driver. He watched the other three men tie three horses to the back of the wagons.

  “Why the horses?”

  “In case some of us has to get somewhere fast.” Dave Rudabaugh pulled a whip, slung it over the heads of the ox teams and snapped it back where it made a loud crack just above the animals’ ears. The oxen lurched forward and Charlie had to hold on to the seat to keep from falling out. Dave cracked the whip again and yelled as he snapped the reins on the backs of the oxen. The heavily laden wagon began to move.

  Charlie smiled with excitement and anticipation. He was finally on his way to a journey of new experiences. He thought about Max’s stern order, and the cold chill that earlier climbed up his spine returned.

  25

  Indian Territory

  A ferry took the wagons across the Arkansas River into what was called Indian Territory. On paper, the Territory, which later became the state of Oklahoma, was divided into various sections. The federal government transplanted certain Indian nations to each of these areas in exchange for them ceding their lands to the government and receiving millions of dollars in payments. Even though the boundaries were fairly explicit, the tribes were always at odds over their respective borders.

  The route Dave Rudabaugh outlined for the wagons would take them along the Arkansas River through the Choctaw Nation to the Canadian River, where they would cross into the Creek Nation. They would then travel north, pick up the Arkansas River again, and follow it into the Osage Indian Territory. Crossing the Osage Nation would put them into Kansas, where they would resupply and head west to Colorado. Along this trek they would likely encounter at least three different Indian parties and who knew what else. Dave estimated the trip to the supply fort in Kansas would take a month to a month and a half. From there it would be another four to five weeks before they got to Denver.

  Since they set out late on the first day, they only traveled eight or nine miles into the Choctaw Indian Territory before they stopped to make camp. Charlie kept lookout for any sign of Indians, his senses heightened due to his ignorant fear of Indians. He was haunted by the stories he was taught as a child about the savagery of the Indians during this period of westward expansion.

  The five men ate a dinner of hardtack, beans and jerked beef, all washed down with a very bad-tasting blend of coffee and crushed hickory nuts. After a few stories and laughter around the fire, the men from the second wagon crawled into their bedrolls. Dave grabbed the rifle and walked off into the dark. Before he left, he told Charlie to get some rest because he would be waking him halfway through the night to take his shift watching the animals. Charlie tried to sleep, but it was useless. All he could think about was why the animals needed watching. He finally dozed off for a while.

  Dave roused him in the middle of the night. He dropped a log onto the dying fire and handed Charlie the rifle. “There’s a cartridge in there, so be careful with it.”

  Charlie stood holding the rifle. “What am I supposed to do?” he whispered.

  “Christ! Max said you was green, but I figured you at least knew something. Ain’t you ever been around animals?” Dave asked, a little aggravated.

  “Yeah. I’ve been around mules, pigs, horses and cows, but always on a farm. They didn’t need watching. They were fine all by themselves.”

  Dave walked Charlie out to where the oxen and the three horses were kept for the night. At two in the morning the half-moon cast a grayish-blue hue over the prairie and the animals. Charlie’s eyes adjusted to the night and he could see fairly well in the dim moonlight. The horses were tethered to a rope strung between two trees. All the oxen were down on the ground. Dave pointed to the animals.

  “You see? They’re all nice and quiet-like. You want to make sure they stay that way. They don’t want to move. They’re tired and want to rest. You want to make sure they don’t wander off, or that nothing comes by and spooks them.”

  “What might spook them?”

  “Usually some other animal like a big cat, coyotes or wolves. Sometimes Indians will come around, but usually not this late at night. Don’t go straining your eyes, cuz you won’t be able to see any of them.”

  Charlie shot Dave a look of disbelief. “If I can’t see them, how can I keep them away from the animals?”

  “Those animals will let you know if something’s around. They’ll smell danger before you’ll see it. They’ll begin to get restless and move around or make noise. That’ll tell you something’s wrong. They’ll move away from the danger. If they move to the right, then something is off to their left. Same with the other ways. Whatever direction they begin to move, you look in the other direction.”

  Charlie nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

  Dave smiled and patted Charlie’s shoulder before he walked back to camp and went to sleep.

  Thankfully, the night was uneventful. Dawn arrived and the oxen rose and began to graze in the area. Charlie heard some movement in the camp and smelled coffee brewing. Dave came over to where Charlie was sitting on a rock.

  “Any trouble?”

  Charlie shook his head. “No. It was a quiet night.”

  “That’s good,” Dave said. “Most nights are quiet. Tonight you and I get to sleep. The other men will take shifts watching the herd. Come on. Let’s get some coffee.”

  Charlie followed Dave back to the camp and was handed a tin cup by one of the guards on the other wagon. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Charlie smiled. “I’m sorry, but I forgot your name.”

  “Ed Bass.” The guard held out his hand to Charlie, who shook it.

  “Pleasure to know you, Ed.” Charlie sat down by the smoldering fire next to him. The guard was a short, rather stout man with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. His weathered face sported a large bushy moustache.

  “This your first trip?” Ed asked.

  “Does it show?” Charlie quipped. The two chuckled. “Yes. It’s my first trip. This is all pretty new to me.”

  “Well, don’t worry.” Ed stood and emptied his remaining coffee onto the coals. “You’ll catch on quick. You’ll have to or you’ll be dead.” He walked off to finish packing his gear and loading his wagon. Ed’s last remark stunned Charlie. Was he kidding? He finished his coffee, rolled up his bedroll and stowed it in the wagon.

  “Let’s get our teams,” Dave said as he walked by and tapped Charlie on his shoulder. Charlie reluctantly followed, still leery of the animals even though they appeared docile.

  The oxen had to be hitched in teams of two at the same time. They were well-trained and Dave had no problems herding each team back to the wagon. Each ox was paired with a very specific partner ox, usually the one it was trained with. Charlie watched Dave and followed his lead getting them into the yoke; it was much easier hitching oxen to a yoke than mules to the harnesses of a wagon.

  Within an hour, the teams were hitched, the camp packed up and the fire extinguished. Charlie watched the others and just followed what they did. Breakfast was hard biscuits, dried bacon and apples. The sun had just risen above the horizon when Dave cra
cked the bullwhip and the two wagons groaned and creaked as they began to roll.

  After a short distance, Charlie heard a whistle from Ed Bass on the other wagon. He pointed to the ridges off to the left. Charlie saw six Indians on horseback about two hundred yards away. They were riding real slow, shadowing the wagons. Charlie’s heart began to pound; an encounter with Indians was something he had feared all along. Now it was about to happen. He reached down to pick up his rifle when Dave grabbed his arm.

  “Leave it be,” Dave said.

  “There’s Indians over there!”

  “Of course there are. We’re in their country. They’ve been watching us since we got here. They just want to see if we mean them any harm.” Dave looked at Charlie and half smiled. “You show that rifle and you’ll just get ‘em riled.”

  “What are they going to do?” Charlie’s fear could not be hidden.

  “Don’t fret none. Choctaws are pretty peaceful. They just want to see what we’re hauling through their land. They’ll probably come down later and do some trading.”

  “Trade? What have we got to trade?” Charlie asked.

  “Well, it all depends on what they want.” Dave reached over and removed Charlie’s hat. “You got a nice-looking scalp, there. Maybe we can trade that.” He laughed.

  “Very funny.” Charlie pulled his hat back from Dave and replaced it on his head. The joking was a good sign; it showed him that he was being accepted as one of the team.

  Dave explained, “We usually pack some blankets, trinkets, tools and things just to trade for passage. They don’t want trouble any more than we do. Some of them are downright friendly.” He laughed at an old memory. “There was this one old Indian, got hair down to his hindquarter. Short little fella that was funny as hell. Ain’t seen him around lately, though.”