The Deadwood Trail Read online

  With considerable satisfaction, Story again called on Cal Snider.

  “It’s all settled,” said Story. “Quickenpaugh will take responsibility for the horses, and Arch, Hitch and Mac will be his wranglers. That will leave ten of you to handle the herd, if we include Lorna, Jasmine and Curley. Will that be enough, or should I round up a few more?”

  “We’ll manage,” Cal said. “Everybody on this drive will have a stake in the herd, and I’d like to keep it that way. Once the herd and the horses are trail wise, Quickenpaugh and his riders can help keep them moving.”

  “I’m glad you’ve included Jasmine, Curley and me,” said Lorna, “but are we to become cowboys or cooks?”

  “Maybe both,” Cal said. “One of you will have to drive the chuck wagon. You can take turns doing that, and whoever’s in charge of the wagon for the day will become the cook.”

  “Fair enough,” said Lorna. “Now who’s going to look after our spreads and remaining cattle while we’re away?”

  “I’m hiring a dozen extra riders,” Story said. “We’ll need them here on the ranches. Especially during the hard winter months.”

  “Mr. Story,” said Cal, “there’s just one thing that bothers me about this drive, and it’s not the danger from the Sioux. I don’t like speculators. If somebody gets there ahead of us with a herd, we could end up without a buyer.”

  “I don’t expect that to be a problem,” Story said. “Thanks to barbed wire, the days of Texas cattle drives are about over. You’ll be trail boss, and except for Quickenpaugh, all your riders will own a piece of the herd, so do what you must. It’s a boomtown, and if you get the herd there, I can’t imagine anything going wrong.”

  But Cal Snider’s suspicions were justified. Something could go wrong, and it did. At the end of the Deadwood Trail.

  SWEETWATER VALLEY, WYOMING TERRITORY.

  JANUARY 2, 1876

  Former Texas Rangers Benton McCaleb, Brazos Gifford and Will Elliot had first trailed a herd north to Colorado, with Charles Goodnight. Seeking to escape the reconstruction in postwar Texas, they had brought a herd north, with intentions of staying. The rest of the outfit had consisted of Rebecca Nance, her young brother, Monte, and a Lipan Apache who was known only as Goose. While in a Denver jail, Benton McCaleb had hired three more able riders. Pen Rhodes, along with Jed and Stoney Vandiver, went with the drive north to Wyoming, and remained with the outfit. McCaleb eventually married Rebecca Nance in Cheyenne. Rosalie, the girl Brazos Gifford married, had a young daughter, Penelope. Will Elliot fought for and won the hand of Susannah, a local schoolmarm. Calling themselves the “Lone Star” outfit, they settled in Wyoming’s Sweetwater Valley in June 1868.* Now, on their. Lone Star range in Sweetwater Valley, Benton McCaleb had called together his friends and partners, Brazos Gifford and Will Elliot.

  “We’ve done well, driving cattle to Cheyenne, to the Union Pacific loading pens,” said McCaleb, “but Deadwood may be the last boomtown. There may never again be such an opportunity to trail a herd to a camp where the sky’s the limit.”

  “If you’re favoring it,” Brazos Gifford said, “you don’t have to convince me. I’ll go.”

  “So will I,” said Will Elliot, “but with the Sioux gettin’ ready to fight, we may need more riders than we have.”

  “We’re fortunate to have fourteen Lipan Apache riders,

  thanks to Goose leading them here from their village in south Texas,” McCaleb said. “Including the horse outfit belonging to Goose, we have six ranches here, all under the Lone Star brand. I think we can safely leave our holdings in their care, while we trail a herd to the gold fields, near Deadwood.”

  “Besides the three of us,” said Will, “there’s Monte Nance, Pen Rhodes, Jed and Stoney Vandiver and Goose, if you’re aimin’ for him to go.”

  “The Sioux threat being what it is, we’ll need Goose,” McCaleb said.

  “Eight riders,” said Brazos. “Maybe enough for three thousand head.”

  “No more than that,” McCaleb said, “and there’s no way we can take a chuck wagon. We can’t spare anybody to drive it.”

  “I reckon you won’t like this idea too much,” said Brazos, “but Rebecca, Rosalie or Susannah can handle up to a four-horse hitch. So can Penelope.”

  “You’re right,” McCaleb said. “I don’t like it. Not when it seems there’s a chance the Sioux are about to !take the warpath.”

  “We could do worse than take our womenfolks with us,” said Will. “Don’t forget, all this Powder River basin was once Sioux hunting grounds. They might just decide to take it back, while we’re away.”

  “It’s possible,” McCaleb said. “I’ll see how Rebecca feels. It’ll be up to you hombres to talk to Susannah and Rosalie. Brazos, if Penelope goes, that’s up to you.”

  Rebecca had been with Rosalie, at Brazos Gifford’s place, allowing the three men the privacy of the McCaleb cabin. When Brazos returned home, Rebecca left immediately. She found McCaleb waiting for her. He quickly told her of the decision he, Brazos and Will had made.

  “Of course I can go,” said Rebecca. “God knows, the only event that might keep me here will never happen.”

  “For God’s sake, let’s not go through that again,” McCaleb said wearily. “Brazos and Will have been in double harness with Rosalie and Susannah near as long as you and me, and they don’t have any younguns. Hell, it must be somethin’ in this High Plains air.”

  “At least Rosalie has Penelope,” said Rebecca folornly.

  “Let her and Brazos worry about that,” McCaleb said. “The girl’s barely eighteen, and wild as a ring-tailed catamount. She’ll mount a horse that just purely scares the hell out of me. Brazos ought to take her along, to keep the Sioux off the rest of us.”

  “You’re unfair, Benton McCaleb,” said Rebecca. “What do you expect of the girl, when she’s never around anybody except Indians and gunfighters?”

  “The Indians are more civilized than the bastards we run out of here,” McCaleb replied, “and if the gunfighters you’re referrin’ to are Will, Brazos and me, we never shot any varmint that wasn’t deserving of it.”

  “I know that,” said Rebecca. “I’m sorry.”

  Brazos Gifford encountered more enthusiasm than he had expected. Especially from his daughter, Penelope.

  “It’s a perfectly glorious journey,” Penelope cried. “I’ll be the best damn cowboy in the outfit.”

  “Young lady,” Rosalie scolded, “don’t you ever let me hear you swearing again.”

  “I’ll be careful, Ma,” said Penelope. “You won’t hear me.”

  Brazos laughed. Rosalie glared at him, then turned her attention back to Penelope.

  “I mean it,” Rosalie said. “I’ll skin you out of those cowboy duds and you’ll be wearing frilly dresses and pantaloons.”

  “Do that,” said Penelope, “and there’ll be men coming from all over Wyoming just to watch me mount and dismount.”

  Brazos managed to contain his laughter until she had stomped out of the house.

  “You’re no help,” Rosalie complained. “She’s trying her best to be like you. I won’t be a bit surprised when she sets up a howl for a pistol of her own.”

  “She has one,” said Brazos calmly. “I gave it to her for Christmas.”

  “You knew I wouldn’t approve,” Rosalie said. “She’ll become an old woman, wandering about in breeches and carrying a gun, never knowing how to be a lady.”

  “She’s got everything in the right places,” said Brazos, “and when the time comes, you can bet she’ll be every bit the lady. Now how do you feel about making the drive from here to Deadwood?”

  “You know I’ll go,” Rosalie said. “I never go anywhere, except maybe to Cheyenne once a year. What about Rebecca and Susannah?”

  “McCaleb and Will are talkin’ to them, I reckon,” said Brazos. “The three of you can be a real help to us, if you’ll take care of the cooking. You can take turns handling the wagon. Penelope too, if she wants
.”

  “Penelope doesn’t want,” a voice said, just outside the door. “I want to ride hard, to swim rivers and shoot Indians. Just like the cowboys.”

  “Oh, my soul and body,” Rosalie groaned.

  Brazos laughed. “Don’t give up on her yet. I’ll see that she gets a bellyful of real cowboying before we reach Deadwood, and I promise she won’t swim the rivers naked.”

  Susannah listened patiently as Will Elliot explained the planned trail drive to her.

  “I’ll go,” said Susannah. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but there are times when all I have to do is look out the door at cows grazing along the river. I’d welcome a chance to cook on a cattle drive, or even to ride drag. Sometimes I envy Penelope. She’s wild as a hare, as unrefined as a cowboy, but she fits her environment.”

  Will said nothing, for there was nothing he could say. Susannah, once a teacher, had a longing for children of her own, but for seven long years she had been barren . . .

  Once McCaleb learned that Rebecca, Rosalie, Susannah and Penelope would make the drive to Deadwood, he sought out Goose, the Lipan Apache, and Belleza, his Crow woman. It was only fair that she be asked to accompany the drive, if she desired. While Belleza had learned little English, Goose had learned much. It was he who related Belleza’s words to McCaleb.

  “Belleza no like towns,” said Goose. “She stay with cows and horses while we go.”

  McCaleb grinned at Belleza, letting her know that her choice was acceptable. But the Crow woman had knowledge that even Goose lacked. Before the snows came again, Goose would become a father . . .

  There was snow throughout January. Not until the first week in February did the cold and the snow loose its grip on the High Plains.

  “I must get to Cheyenne with the wagon,” McCaleb said. “We’ll be needing supplies for the drive, and soon as the worst of winter’s behind us, we’re gonna be starting those cows on the trail to Deadwood.”

  “If this winter’s like all the others, we’ll be lucky to be on our way by mid-April,” said Will.

  “I think we’ll have to do better than that,” McCaleb said. “We’ll likely hear news of the gold strike in Cheyenne, and if we hear it, so can everybody else. Tomorrow, Rebecca and me will take the wagon and head for town.”

  “Some of us had better ride with you,” said Brazos. “While the Sioux are raisin’ hell in Dakota Territory, we don’t know they’re all there. Might be some hostiles between here and Cheyenne.”

  “Brazos is right,” Will said. “This is no time for you to be shot full of arrows and scalped, McCaleb. If it wasn’t for you, one of us would have to boss that trail drive to Deadwood.”

  “Your concern for my carcass is touching,” said McCaleb. “We’ll do it like we did in the old days. Will, you and Brazos bring Susannah and Rosalie, and go with us.”

  “Rosalie and me can’t, unless Penelope goes too,” Brazos said.

  “Then bring her,” said McCaleb.

  CHEYENNE, WYOMING TERRITORY.

  FEBRUARY 15, 1876

  The women had remained at the hotel while McCaleb, Brazos and Will had taken the wagon to the mercantile to be loaded. McCaleb had bought a copy of the local newspaper and had found something of immediate interest.

  “There’s a speculator in Deadwood, and he’s buying all the beef he can,” McCaleb said. “His name is Milo Reems. He’s asking owners of herds to telegraph him commitments.”

  “That’s gettin’ a mite previous,” said Will, “committin’ ourselves to a gent we’ve never heard of, not knowin’ what he aims to pay.”

  “I’m thinkin’ the same way,” Brazos said. “I don’t trust speculators. Matter of fact, I don’t trust any man, when it comes to women or money.”

  “There’s no trust involved,” said McCaleb. “If his deal don’t measure up, we don’t sell to him. Let’s telegraph him and ask for a reply, telling us his best price.”

  McCaleb sent the telegram, and within two hours, had an answer. It read: Purchase of three thousand head confirmed STOP Fifty dollars a head STOP

  “Tarnation,” Brazos said, “if we can believe that, we’re looking at a hundred and fifty thousand dollars for three thousand cows.”

  “Seein’ as how we don’t surrender the herd until we’re paid,” said Will, “how can we lose?”

  “I don’t know,” McCaleb said, “but there’s somethin’ about all this that just seems too good to be real.”

  “We have his telegram, with his quote and his name signed to it,” said Brazos. “That ought to be worth something. All he has from us is a promise to deliver the herd. If he falls down on paying, then we don’t deliver.”

  VIRGINIA CITY, MONTANA TERRITORY.

  FEBRUARY 20, 1876

  “The chuck wagon’s loaded and ready, Mr. Story,” said Cal Snider. “Come March first, unless the weather’s turned bad, I’m thinking we’ll take the trail to Deadwood.”

  “That might be wise,” Nelson Story said. “The Sioux may be holed up, awaiting spring. Once you reach the Bozeman, there’ll be danger every mile of the way.”

  “We’re keepin’ that in mind,” said Cal. “We figure we’ll come out better fightin’ snow than fightin’ Sioux.”

  “Bueno,” Story said. “Do you have enough horses in your remuda?”

  “Every man has three,” said Cal. “That should be enough.”

  “Remember, you’re delivering two hundred head to the military,” Story said. “You’re welcome to the use of some of them, if you need them.”

  “Thanks,” said Cal.

  The weather continued mild, and on March 1, 1876, Cal Snider and his riders headed their herd—more than five thousand strong—eastward. Just a day later—in Wyoming—Benton McCaleb and his outfit moved their herd of three thousand head along toward the south fork of the Powder River, toward the northeast. Thus the two herds moved toward the same destination, two outfits destined to join together against a swindle unlike any that had ever hit Dakota Territory.

  *The Virginia City Trail (Trail Drive #7)

  *The Virginia City Trail (Trail Drive #7)

  *The Western Trail (Trail Drive #2)

  1

  VIRGINIA CITY, MONTANA TERRITORY.

  MARCH 1, 1876

  SNOW GLISTENED ON MOUNTAIN peaks to the west, and there were patches of it on the lee side of hills, where the sun shone briefly. More than five thousand head of unruly cattle were strung out, plodding eastward. The drag riders left no slack, for right on their heels were the two hundred horses intended for the army, as well as the outfit’s remuda. Mac, Arch, Hitch and Quickenpaugh kept the horses in line. Directly behind the horse herd came the chuck wagon, Jasmine at the reins. Lorna and Curley rode drag, in the company of Oscar Fentress and Smokey Ellison.

  “I know Mr. Story’s been breedin’ these varmints for nine years,” Curley said, “but I can’t see they’re a damn bit smarter than those jugheaded longhorns we brought here from Texas.”

  “I think there are some things that can’t be bred out of them,” said Lorna. “Have you ever noticed that when you want a cow or a group of cows to go one certain way, they’ll run themselves ragged going some other way?”

  “I’ve noticed that,” Curley said, “but I’m not near as concerned with the ignorance of the cows as I am the condition of my backside. I’d have been spending more time in the saddle, if I’d known this drive was coming.”

  “So would I,” said Lorna. “That’s why I offered to do the cooking. The seat on the wagon box is hard enough, but it won’t leave you with saddle sores. Tomorrow will be your turn with the chuck wagon.”

  “No,” Curley said. “You take it tomorrow, and I’ll take it the third day. That’s the way Cal set it up. You don’t want him thinkin’ we can’t cut the mustard, do you?”

  “My God, no,” said Lorna. “I brought three tins of sulfur salve. Until we toughen our hides, we can doctor our saddle sores at night.”

  At that moment, three drag c
ows wheeled and, evading the drag riders, ran headlong toward the oncoming horse herd. Only the swiftness of Quickenpaugh prevented the horses from stampeding. The Comanche managed to get between the lead horses and the oncoming errant cows. Using his doubled lariat, he swatted the cows on their tender muzzles, and with the help of the drag riders, the troublesome trio again took their places within the herd.

  “Lawd God,” said Oscar Fentress, wiping his ebony brow, “that be close. Cal think we all be sleeping.”

  But Cal and his companions were having their own problems. Cal rode point, while Bill Petty, Tom Allen, Quanah Taylor and Bud McDaniels were the flank riders. Much of the longhorn temperament had been bred out of the cows, but they seemed to have retained all or most of the cussedness of their longhorn ancestors. Sundown only minutes away, they gave it up, bedding down the herd for the night. The wind, out of the northwest, had a frosty bite to it.

  “I’m thinkin’ we should have delayed this drive at least until April first,” Tom Allen said. “If I’m any judge, there’s more snow on the way.”

  “Nobody objected when I set the starting day,” said Cal with some irritation.

  “Like it or not,” Bill Petty said, “we’re neck-deep in a trail drive. Whatever happens, I reckon we’ll have to make the best of it.”

  “There be water,” said Oscar. “Was there shelter, this wouldn’t be so bad.”

  “If we had ham, we could have ham and eggs, if we had some eggs,” Smokey Ellison said. “We better get these varmints on the trail at daylight, and start lookin’ for an arroyo deep enough to keep the snow off of us.”

  “The tents Mr. Story insisted we bring may be a great help,” said Lorna.

  Supper was a mostly silent affair, each of them aware that if fate was unkind to them, they might be plagued by snow until April and beyond.