Ralph Compton The Cheyenne Trail Page 6

  Checkers pulled up the chuck wagon next to a creek late in the afternoon. He gathered firewood and set rocks in a fire ring as he waited for the herd and cowhands. When he saw the first bunch of cattle approach, he lit his fire. All of his utensils and foodstuffs were laid out on the folding sideboard. There was a large expanse of land where the hands could bed down the herd and plenty of water for the cattle to drink.

  Jimmy John let the cattle run to the creek. He had ridden point all day and was weary. His compass had brought him to that place where he knew Checkers would be waiting to cook supper for all hands.

  Reese and Louella rode up from the right flank to see Checkers, and to let their horses drink.

  “You picked a good spot, Checkers,” Reese said.

  “Perfect,” Checkers said with a wide grin. His fire blazed in the pit and he set up the irons to skewer the meat. “I’m gonna have to kill a couple of cows,” he told Reese. “You, or someone, can pick out two you don’t care much about.”

  “I’ll have George pick out a couple of for you. He’s been chasin’ strays all day.”

  Checkers laughed. “George’ll pick the orneriest ones.”

  “That he will,” Reese said.

  “Reese, I don’t want to watch,” Louella said. “I can’t stand to see an animal suffer.”

  “They won’t suffer none, ma’am,” Checkers said. “I put a bullet under the boss and they drop plumb dead.”

  Louella shuddered at the thought as she watched her horse snuffle its nose as it drank at the stream.

  “The thing is,” Reese said to Lou, “it’s not so bad if you don’t name the animal.”

  “What?” Lou said.

  “We raised rabbits when I was a kid back in Tennessee. And I named them. Gave ’em names like ‘Fluffy,’ ‘Dolly,’ ‘Twinkle Nose.’”

  “So?” Lou said.

  “So, when it came time to take a hammer and knock their brains out so’s Ma could cook them, I could hardly kill Fluffy.”

  “Oh, I see,” she said.

  “He’s right,” Checkers said. “I used to name our hogs and when it came time to butcher ’em, I just couldn’t hardly take the ax to old Charlie or Humphrey. So you don’t name what you’re goin’ to kill. Gives you a bad feeling when you have to—”

  “That’s enough,” Lou said. “I don’t want to think about it.”

  George picked out two head, roped them, and dragged them, one by one, over to the chuck wagon.

  Checkers pulled out his .22-caliber rifle and proceeded to kill the two steers. He had George skin and butcher the dead animals well away from the chuck wagon and Louella. George helped him hang the dead steers from a tree while Checkers gutted and carved up the meat. He kept the heart and liver in a wooden box inside the wagon and the cuts of meat in another.

  “We’ll let the meat cure for a few days,” he told George.

  “Them two gave me nothin’ but trouble on the trail,” George said. “I’m glad to be shut of ’em.”

  “You can’t take cows too personal, George,” Checkers said. “It’s not like they have brains like a human.”

  “Them two had brains, and they were out to make my life miserable.”

  “They’re just dumb animals,” Checkers said.

  “I ain’t so sure about them bein’ dumb,” George said. “Seems to me they was deliberate when they kept boltin’ from the herd and I had to chase ’em down.”

  Checkers laughed. He had heard cowhands talk about animal intelligence before. They assigned every human trait to every kind of animal when they were chewing the fat around a campfire.

  He didn’t put much stock in such stories until he remembered a goose that always chased him when he was a kid. The goose seemed to take a particular dislike to Checkers. He would chase the boy and bite him on the legs. Checkers hated that goose and he was sure that the goose hated him.

  He cooked beans, beef, and potatoes that night and filled the plates of the hands as they came to eat in shifts.

  Other hands made sure the herd was bedded down for the night.

  Reese spoke to Roy and Johnny Whitfield during supper.

  “I want you boys to trade off riding watch tonight,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Roy asked. “I ain’t supposed to get woke up until midnight to take my turn.”

  “Johnny, I want you to sit your horse well away from the herd and keep a lookout. You see anything suspicious, you let out a holler.”

  “You mean like a wolf or catamount?” Johnny said.

  “I mean like a Cheyenne Injun,” Reese said.

  “Huh? You think them Cheyenne’s gonna foller us?” Johnny said.

  “They burned me out. I wouldn’t put anything past them.”

  By then, the whole crew knew about the prairie fire because Louella had given some of them a full account. And the word had spread to all hands.

  “You think them Cheyenne will try to steal cattle at night, Reese?” Roy asked.

  “I don’t trust Silver Bear as far as I could throw that chuck wagon,” Reese said. “He’s treacherous and his bunch are starving.”

  “Why not give him a few cows and be rid of him?” Johnny said.

  “It’s the principle of it all,” Reese said. “Let the Injuns farm or buy their own livestock.”

  “You can’t expect that of no Injun,” Roy said. “They don’t know farm from hoop-de-do. Bunch of dumb animals, you ask me.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Louella said. “They’re not dumb. They’re just used to a different sort of life.”

  Johnny snorted. So did some of the other men.

  Louella drew herself up and expressed her indignation at the attitudes of the men.

  “You have to be tolerant,” she said. “A little tolerance makes all the difference.”

  “I don’t know how you can tolerate a savage redskin,” Roy said. “They got lice and eat snakes and stink to high heaven.”

  “We all stink if we don’t bathe regularly,” Louella said.

  Reese gave her a look that told her she had gone too far.

  Louella didn’t back down. “I think we ought to give them a few head of our cattle,” she said with a defiant look in her eyes.

  Reese picked up a stick next to the fire and poked at the coals.

  “The only good Injun is a dead one,” he said.

  And the other men who were scraping their plates grunted in agreement.

  “You make sure you keep a good lookout, boys,” Reese said to Roy and Johnny. “Shoot first and ask questions later.”

  Louella glared at her husband but said nothing.

  They watched the sunset, and men began to lay out their bedrolls.

  There was a definite chill in the air, and Reese noticed that the stars to the north were blotted out under a layer of black clouds.

  His forehead wrinkled in worry.

  Winter was the last thing they needed. If it snowed too much, he might lose some cattle. In fact, he thought, he might lose the entire herd in a blizzard.

  He prayed that the good weather would hold as he laid out a bedroll for himself and Louella.

  They both fell asleep to the steady drone of the cattle lowing as they bedded down, and the night riders sang to them.

  Chapter 12

  Reese awoke during the night to the rumble of thunder. His first thought was that the herd might stampede, delaying the drive for hours or days. He crawled out of his bedroll at the sound of Louella’s voice.

  “What’s the matter, Reese?” she mumbled.

  “I heard thunder. Got to check on the herd.”

  “It’s still dark,” she said, half-asleep.

  “I know. I’ll be back.”

  He arose and walked over to his horse, which was tied to a tree. He looked up at the sky. It was
dark, and the sound of thunder was still some distance away. He climbed into the saddle and rode until he saw one of his hands riding alongside the mass of bedded-down cattle.

  “That you, boss?” the voice said.

  It was Calvin Forbes on his dun horse. There was a rifle across his lap.

  “I just wanted to check on the herd, Calvin,” Reese said. “I heard thunder.”

  “It’s far off.”

  “What’s the rifle for?”

  “Johnny told us all to be ready to shoot any Injuns in case he spotted them Cheyenne.”

  “Where is he?” Reese asked.

  “Oh, he’s way out yonder behind the herd. He comes up every now and then to check on us.”

  “You keep an eye on the cows. If they look like they’re going to run, you get help.”

  “Oh, they’re just fine. A little thunder ain’t goin’ to bother them none.”

  “Don’t be too sure about that,” Reese said.

  He rode beyond the herd and found Johnny standing watch next to the old buffalo trail they were all following.

  “Anything, Johnny?”

  “Nary a Cheyenne. Just that thunder up north. Makes it hard to hear anything every so often.”

  Reese looked into the darkness beyond where Johnny sat his horse. It was quiet and he could not see far. He stayed beside Johnny for several minutes, watching, listening. Johnny’s rifle was resting on his leg, the barrel across the pommel. He had one hand on the stock near the trigger guard.

  There was a rustling sound beyond their eyesight. Then the sound of rushing air. An arrow whooshed toward them and struck Johnny in the side, piercing through to his stomach. He groaned in pain and doubled up in agony. His rifle slipped from his grasp and struck the ground, barrel first.

  Reese drew his pistol and wheeled his horse. More arrows arced all around him and he figured the shooters were some distance from him. He fired his pistol into the dark, once, twice, three times.

  He heard no sound from where his bullets had gone.

  He turned to see Johnny slumped over his saddle, an arrow sticking from his stomach. He rode over and put an arm around his chest and back.

  “We’ll get you some help, Johnny,” he said. “Hold on.”

  Johnny swore an oath that was mostly breath.

  Johnny’s horse walked alongside Reese’s as he led the wounded cowhand away from the flights of arrows. When they reached the nighthawk riding herd, Reese wondered if Johnny was still alive.

  “Johnny,” he said. “Are you with me?”

  ‘Still here,” Johnny groaned.

  Lonnie Willets turned his horse and rode over to where Johnny and Reese were.

  “What the hell . . . ?”

  “Lonnie, you keep a close eye on the herd. There’re Injuns out there and they shot Johnny.”

  “Oh God,” Lonnie exclaimed. “Where are they?” He drew his rifle from its scabbard and levered a cartridge into the chamber.

  “Somewhere behind me. I’m takin’ Johnny to the chuck wagon.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lonnie said, and turned his horse to face the darkness beyond the range of his vision. He gulped dry air and hunched over, peering into the blackness of night.

  Reese roused Checkers at the chuck wagon.

  “Get some blankets and boil some water, Checkers,” Reese said to the cook. “We got a wounded man here.”

  Checkers dug out a blanket from the wagon and filled a small pot with water. He stirred the fire and put fresh wood on it. In the firelight, he looked at Johnny, who was lying on his side. The feathers on the arrow shaft were nestled against his back, while the flint arrowhead jutted from his stomach.

  “You got to pull that arrer clean through, Reese,” Checkers said. “I got some alkyhol in the wagon to clean that wound.”

  “It hurts like hell,” Johnny moaned.

  “It’s going to hurt more,” Reese said.

  At the trail end of the herd, they heard the crack of a rifle shot. Then the night erupted in a cacophony of whoops and chants.

  More rifle fire.

  The whoops died away, but the men could hear cattle rising from their beds and lowing in disgruntled protest at being disturbed.

  Men rose from their bedrolls and grabbed their rifles. Others went for their horses under the trees that bordered the creek. Soon riders were racing to the rear of the herd.

  The water boiled.

  “Ready?” Checkers said to Reese.

  “I’m ready,” Reese said.

  “I’ll hold on to Johnny while you push that arrer through from the fletched end.”

  “You sound like you’ve done this before, Checkers,” Reese said.

  “I’ve plucked an arrow or two from soldiers when I cooked for the regiment under Crook,” Checkers said.

  “This is going to hurt some, Johnny,” Reese said as he put his palm against the notched tip of the arrow, right behind the turkey feathers. He pushed as Checkers pulled on the business end of the arrow shaft, his hand just behind the chipped flint arrowhead.

  The arrow pushed through and Checkers pulled it all the way out. The shaft was slick and wet with blood and slime. Checkers set the arrow down and reached for the bottle of alcohol.

  Johnny moaned in pain.

  Checkers rolled him over on his side and poured alcohol into the wound in Johnny’s back. Johnny screamed.

  “I’m gonna have to rig up a swab and get inside that wound,” Checkers said. “Hold on to him right here, Reese.”

  Reese held Johnny in the same position. “Don’t move, Johnny,” he said.

  “Ooh, ooh, it hurts so bad,” Johnny said.

  “I know, I know,” Reese said.

  Checkers brought some bandages from the wagon. He took his knife and cut off the arrowhead, then the fletching at the other end. He wrapped one end of the arrow with gauze and poured alcohol onto it until it was soaked.

  “This is going to be like puttin’ a firebrand inside you, Johnny,” Checkers said as he held the gauzed end of the arrow close to the wound in his back.

  “Do it,” Johnny said, and closed his eyes. He gritted his teeth as Checkers shoved the soaked bandage through the wound. He twisted it as he pushed it out the other side of Johnny’s stomach.

  Johnny screamed.

  Rifles cracked in the distance. Men shouted. Indians whooped their war cries.

  “I should do this one more time with a fresh bandage,” Checkers said. “But I don’t know if Johnny can stand any more.”

  “Do what you have to do, Checkers,” Reese said. “Maybe give Johnny something to bite on.”

  “Let’s see,” Checkers said. He felt the ground and pulled up a small stick next to the stack of kindling. “Here, Johnny, bite on this while I go in there again.”

  “Mmmmf,” Johnny said as Checkers shoved the stick into his mouth.

  Louella arose from her bedroll and came over, wrapped in a blanket.

  “Oh dear,” she said when she saw the blood oozing from Johnny’s back.

  Checkers removed the wet bandage and wrapped a fresh one on the shorn tip of the arrow.

  “Anything I can do to help?” she asked.

  “Just hold on to one of Johnny’s hands,” Reese said.

  Louella gripped Johnny’s left hand. She squeezed it and he squeezed back. He gripped the stick in his mouth as Checkers poured alcohol on the wrapped bandage. Then he swabbed the wound once again. This time, the bandage emerged from the stomach with less blood and less slime.

  “Johnny, I got some iodine in the wagon. I’ll pour some of it into the wound and bandage you up. You got to stay real still, but I don’t think that arrer hit any vital parts. You’ll live.”

  Johnny spat out the stick and let out a breath of air.

  Checkers stood up and went to the wagon.
After a few minutes he returned with a square bottle of iodine.

  “Hold him right where he is” he told Reese.

  Checkers poured a liberal amount of iodine into the hole in Johnny’s back, then did the same with the exit wound in his belly.

  “Let’s hope it’ll seep on through and get rid of any germs what was on that arrer,” Checkers said. Then he wrapped a bandage around Johnny’s waist and back, tied it off with a tight knot.

  “You can let up now, Reese,” Checkers said.

  Reese let Johnny down until his body rested on the blanket.

  Louella rubbed his forehead, felt his cheeks.

  “He has a slight fever, I fear,” she said.

  “Likely he’ll get a mite hotter before that wound has a chance to heal,” Checkers said.

  “Have you done some doctoring, Checkers?” she asked.

  “When I was with Crook, a lot of us did doctorin’,” Checkers said. “We had a surgeon, but when he was busy, well, a lot of us pitched in.”

  “At least you knew what to do for this man,” she said.

  “My name’s Johnny,” Johnny said, his voice weak.

  “Sure, sure,” she said. “I wasn’t sure. I don’t know all the hands, but I know who you are.”

  The gunfire stopped and a rider drifted into the firelight’s glow.

  “We didn’t lose one head,” Roy said as he dismounted and walked over to Reese.

  “Did you get any Indians?” Reese asked.

  “Nope, but we heard ’em hollerin’ and might have clipped one or two.”

  “We’ll have to double the guard duty,” Reese said. “Silver Bear won’t quit.”

  “They was pretty determined,” Roy said. “One or two came after the cows and we chased ’em off.”

  “Good job,” Reese said.

  “I’ll put all the men on nighthawkin’,” Roy said. “Be light soon anyways.”

  “We’ll get the herd moving as soon as the sun comes up,” Reese said.

  “I’ll look after Johnny here,” Checkers said. “Make room for him in the wagon.”

  Johnny squeezed Louella’s hand in gratitude. She bent over and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Thanks, ma’am,” Johnny murmured.