Incident on the Chisholm Trail
Chapter 2
It was a moonless night and Dan Lewis could barely make out the silhouettes of the two horsemen who were coming along in his direction, but when he judged that they were within hailing distance, he cupped his hands to his mouth and cried, ‘Hey there, what’s to do?’
The riders whirled round and cantered up to him. One of the men said, ‘You the wrangler setting a watch on these critters?’
‘That I am.’
‘We gotta peel off a hundred and move ’em aways down the valley there. Boss said as you’d help us.’
‘How’s that? Why’d you be wanting to take a hundred from here and move them over there? It don’t make sense!’
‘Hell, I’m just doin’ as I been bid. You going to help or hinder?’
‘Wait ’til I got my boots on and my horse tacked up.’
Because he hadn’t really had any opportunity to get to know by sight any of the men riding with the herd, Dan simply took it for granted that these two men must be cowboys sent by Lennox to undertake some job or other. He pulled on his boots and then readied his pony for work. It was, he thought, a bit thick to disturb his rest in this way and think that he would simply jump into the saddle and get working in the middle of the night. Still and all, they were paying him a dollar a day and feeding him into the bargain, so he figured that he ought to do as he had been instructed.
‘You want any particular steers?’ asked Dan helpfully, ‘Or just the first hundred we come across?’
‘Shit,’ said one of the men with a laugh, ‘You think I’m a goin’ to get down and examine the beasts? Let’s us just get us a hundred of these bastards and be done with it.’
Together, the three of them managed to round up a hundred head of cattle without spooking the rest of the herd unduly; no mean feat in the dark. It struck Dan that these men really knew their stuff. They were able to soothe the longhorns, not by singing lullabies to them or any of that foolishness, but rather by making reassuring noises in their throats. It was wonderful to behold, the way that these fellows were able to control the steers and stop the movements of a few turning into a general stampede of something of that nature.
The three of them were doing famously and had separated out the hundred that they wanted and were herding them off, away from the others, when a dozen men on horseback rode down on them and ordered them all to throw down their guns. Some of the riders were carrying blazing pine brands and the flickering light lent them an eldritch aspect: the lengthy shadows making them look like hobgoblins or ghosts. At first, Dan thought that these new men might be outlaws or rustlers. He couldn’t for the life of him work out why they would otherwise be troubling three men peacefully engaged in herding cattle. Then, to his consternation, he saw that the party of men was led by Geoff Lennox, the trail boss. Dan himself didn’t have a gun, but the two men he had been helping did and they threw down the pistols that they were carrying. ‘Now you all get down from your horses,’ ordered Lennox, ‘And don’t any of you make any sudden moves.’
As though in a dream, Dan dismounted, quite unable to work out the play. Then Geoff Lennox spoke again. He said, ‘You men know what you done and you know what’s comin’ to you,’ he looked hard at Dan and said, ‘And you boy, you took up with us, ate our food and all just to start rustlin’ our cattle soon as you could. I don’t know as that’s not worst of all, worse than these men.’
‘Rustling?’ exclaimed Dan in astonishment, ‘Who’s been rustlin’? I was given word as you wanted me to help these fellows fetch a hundred head out the herd.’
Lennox smiled grimly, saying, ‘That’s a good story. You save your breath boy, you’re likely to need it directly.’
The significance of this observation quite escaped Dan Lewis and he thought he’d wait until they were back at the main camp before he explained the ins and outs of the matter. Nobody at present seemed inclined to listen to what he had to say.
It was not apparently Lennox’s intention to head back to camp. The dismounted men were shepherded instead towards a small wood which spread out on one side of the track leading to the valley. Dan still didn’t understand what was going on and it wasn’t until they halted by a tall oak and one of the riders sent a coil of rope snaking over a low branch that the peril he was in suddenly grasped Dan Lewis’s heart in an icy grip. They were going to lynch him!
‘Hey, you can’t do this!’ shouted Dan, his voice quavering in terror, ‘I ain’t done nothing.’
‘You call signing up for a drive and then throwing in with rustlers as nothing?’ asked Lennox, ‘You and me got different views on that subject. Tie their hands.’
Dan and the other two men struggled, but to no avail; in two minutes, all three of them had their hands firmly bound behind their backs with rawhide thongs. In the meantime, two more ropes had been thrown over the branches of the oak tree and nooses fashioned at their ends. ‘Get them on their horses!’ commanded the trail boss. Dan Lewis dug his feet into the ground like a mule, but found himself being inexorably pushed and pulled towards the waiting ropes. He saw that he was being dragged past old Jack Trotter, the man in charge of the chuck wagon. He appealed to him.
‘Mr Trotter, I ain’t done aught I shouldn‘t‘ve! I was sitting up there, minding my own affairs when those two men rode up. I swear I thought they was working for this outfit.’
‘Get them up on their horses.’ repeated Lennox. Dan saw that their horses had been brought along and positioned under the three nooses which now dangled from the tree. He felt almost sick with fear and was on the point of weeping, when Jack Trotter interrupted the proceedings. He came over to Dan and said:
‘How old are you, son?’
‘I was seventeen this March gone.’
Now although Geoff Lennox was the trail boss and nominally in charge of the whole enterprise, old Jack Trotter’s word counted for a good deal. He might be the cook now, but he was also a dab-hand at medical matters and had been working for the “Triple C” longer than most any of the other men. He turned to Lennox and said, ‘He’s no more than a boy. No matter what he’s done, we can’t hang a body of that age.’
At first, Lennox looked to Dan as though he was inclined to argue the point, but then he said, ‘Ah, let the little bastard alone then. But mind you make him watch what happens.’
Two of the cowboys gripped Dan’s shoulders and made sure that he couldn’t turn away. The two men who had got him mixed up in all this were hoisted and manhandled onto their horses. The ropes were adjusted round their necks and then everybody stepped aside from them. In the light of the pine torches, it appeared to Dan that they were defiant and not in the least afraid.
‘You men knew what to expect if’n you was caught at this game,’ said Lennox, ‘Rustlin’ll get you hanged most anywhere. Either of you got anything to say for yourselves?’
Dan wondered if they would take this opportunity to admit that he himself had been innocent of any involvement in what they had been up to; but they neither of them spoke. Then Lennox nodded to the others and two men stepped forward and gave the horses sharp slaps across the rump. They jerked forward, leaving their riders suspended in mid-air. Both of the men kicked and danced for a spell on the end of their ropes. They died hard.
After it was all over and the men were dead, Lennox came over to where Dan stood and said, ‘You was damned lucky that Jack here spoke out for you. I would o’ just hanged you, had it been left to me. You took our food and then betrayed us.’
Jack Trotter said, ‘I’m right disappointed in you, son. I took you to be a straight one and I own now as I was wrong about it. You go off now and thank your stars as you’re still alive.’ He turned away before Dan had a chance to say anything.
Nobody wanted to hear anything that Dan had to say. When he began speaking, they just turned and walked off in disgust. It was obvious that every man present thought that he had signed up with their outfit as a pretext for being involved in the theft of cattle. None of these men knew him; it wasn’t like it would have been had he been riding with the South Texas Livestock Company. Had that been the case, then he would have had any number of men who had known him for years who would have been ready to speak up for him. Here, he was a stranger. Sadly, although conscious that he had narrowly escaped with his life, Dan Lewis mounted his pony and rode off into the night.
It was impossible to say what time it was. Dan thought that it was after midnight, although he couldn’t be sure about it. The questions was: what was he to do now? There were, it seemed to the young man, only two possibilities. The first was that he turned his horse south and made his way straight back to Indian Falls. This was not an appetizing prospect. He would be called upon to explain himself and tell folks why he was back so soon. Now, although most people in town would take his part and readily believe that he had been misjudged, Dan knew also that there would be others who would be eager to believe the worst about him. He had in the past seen what happened to men who had been under suspicion for acts of dishonesty. Even when everybody assured them to their faces that they didn’t believe a word of the accusations made against them, there would always be whispers circulating to the effect that there was no smoke without fire.
Then again, he thought, there was little point in returning to his home town and dreaming up some tall tale to account for his coming home after little more than a week. Trying to conceal the truth would only make things worse in the end. Albert McCormack would be certain-sure to spread the truth about his ignominious departure from the trail, far and wide as soon as he came back to Indian Falls himself. Such a course of evasion would only serve to make things look all the blacker for Dan in the long run.
It was at this point that Dan Lewis reined in his horse and realized what he had been doing. He’d been trying to work out a way of wriggling out of this trouble and making sure that folks didn’t think too badly of him. But that was all just plumb crazy; he hadn’t done anything he need feel ashamed of and so why the devil should he be worrying about looking bad? Away over in the distance, he could hear the soft lowing of the cattle. He needed to put a bit more space between him and that herd yet. It wouldn’t do, come sun-up, to still be in that area.
The sheer injustice of the thing rankled in the young man’s breast. He had always been as straight as a die and now this! Well, he would have to use his brains if he intended to clear his name. Dan dismounted and paced up and down, reasoning the matter out in his mind. Clearly, those two fellows he had seen hanged had been aiming to take a hundred head of cattle away somewhere. Surely though, they wouldn’t have been able to keep those steers with them for long – not just the two of them. There must be others in this racket. And a hundred wasn’t all that many. Most of the drives north were of three thousand or more longhorns. Compared to that, a hundred was nothing at all. Whatever was going on, this evening’s actions could only be a small part of it.
I guess, thought Dan Lewis to himself, that the best bet is for me to follow along after the “Triple C” and find out what’s what. It’ll be a dangerous game, because when all’s said and done, I only narrowly escaped being hanged less than an hour since. Still and all, I can’t think of a better scheme right now. Maybe something will come to my mind during the night.
Scripture says that, ”Morning brings counsel”’, which is just another way of saying that things often look better after a night’s sleep. When he woke the next day, Dan Lewis found that he was quite fixed in his purpose, which was to follow the cattle drive at a discrete distance and see what would chance. It wasn’t a brilliant plan, but it was, it seemed to the boy, better than nothing.
Sometimes, real life can be stranger than fiction and the next day proved the truth of this adage. Dan made sure that he kept a good four, maybe five, miles back from the drive. There was no danger of losing track of the herds entirely; the clouds of dust they raised made it possible to track their progress at a good deal further than just four miles.
Now there are a number of men on a cattle drive who ride point; rounding up stray steers and setting a watch for any stragglers. These men still keep as close to the herds as is practical though. As he rode along that morning, Dan Lewis became aware that there were other riders taking an interest in the “Three Cs’” progress. He spotted two such men and gained the distinct impression that, like him, they were anxious not to be seen. At first, he thought that they might just be riding point, but he soon saw that they were keeping too far from the herd to be accomplishing any such purpose.
After observing them narrowly over the course of several hours, Dan became convinced that these two other riders were not just random travellers who happened to be following the same route north. They were, like him, following the herd for some reason. Confirmation of his suspicions came a little after noon, when he caught a flash of light from one of the riders ahead of him. He saw the sunlight winking back and forth. Dan had no doubt that this man was communicating with his partner by means of a piece of mirror: flashing signals by reflecting the sunlight across the valley. The only question now was what these fellows were up to.
Young Dan was not a cunning sort of youth – quite the opposite. Even so, he could see that this was not an occasion where being open and honest would be the best plan. It wasn’t plain to him whether or not the men following the “Triple C” would have spotted him. If he’d seen them, then he supposed that like as not, they would have seen him. Were they as curious about him as he was about them? While he wrestled with this conundrum, Dan had a wholly unlooked for stroke of good fortune.
The land was gently undulating, although there was high ground to either side of the path that the cattle drive was taking. The two mysterious riders were keeping up on the sides of the wide, shallow valley, while Dan was pretty much dogging the heels of the cattle; following almost in their very hoof prints. Now one of the regular hazards of riding the trail was being caught up in a stampede. This could be a very dangerous and it was by no means unknown for men to lose their lives in the process. Usually, great efforts were made to retrieve the bodies of those who suffered this death and to give them Christian burials. Every so often though, it chanced that a man met his death under the hooves of several thousand longhorns and the fact was not marked by his fellows; in effect, he simply vanished. Since men abandoned their posts from time to time for various reasons, a man suddenly and without warning disappearing from sight was not at all unknown.
It was the glint of metal in the bright, morning sun which first caught Dan’s attention. He stopped to see what might be lying there in the poached up and brick-hard mud. Whatever it was was buried in the ground and must have been there for some good long time as this object was embedded in caked earth. Like as not, it had been there for at least a few weeks, since last it was rainy and wet around here.
Although he was in a hurry and keen to find out about the two riders, Dan dismounted and began to investigate. He reached down and prodded the earth. To his immense horror and disgust, a clod of dried soil fell away to reveal a man’s half decayed face. He recoiled in shock, before recollecting that he was no longer some little child who was scared of the bogeyman, but rather a grown person, riding the range alone.
The shiny metal that had first caught his eye turned out to be a pistol and to Dan’s amazement, it appeared to be in good working order. It was a Navy Colt and from all that he was able to collect, it was fully loaded. Most of it had been covered by dried mud, but once he had prised it loose and shaken the dirt from it, there seemed to be nothing wrong with the weapon. Leastways, the cylinder spun smoothly and the hammer cocked without any difficulty. It was a miracle that all those steers had trampled over the ground here without doing the pistol a mischief.
The body of the pistol’s owner was almost entirely buried and looked to have been squashed almost flat. How this gun had survived was a mystery, the answer to which he would probably never know. There were even caps over the nipples of the cylinder and he could see balls as well – each neatly secured in one of the five chambers. Would it fire? Well, that would remain to be seen. The way things were panning out, Dan had an idea that it would not be too long until he found out the answer to that question.
The boy felt a twinge of bad conscience at looting a dead body in this way. However, he soon recollected himself and realied that a dead man had no use for firearms and that if he left the gun there, then it would surely be picked up by the next traveller to pass this way. ‘Sides which, he had great need for that pistol. As a compromise, Dan recited a prayer over the man’s remains and wished him into heaven and not the other place.
After tucking the pistol in his belt, Dan thought to himself that there was little point in fooling around any further. He had no food, only a dollar fifty in cash and no other plan beyond following the “Triple C” herd until something turned up. Well, maybe it was time to make things happen. He mounted and then spurred on his horse, heading up towards the higher ground, where one of the riders he had seen earlier was to be found.
It took fifteen minutes to catch up with the rider and when the man became aware that Dan was bearing down on him, he reined in and turned to face the youngster. Dan saw that he was carrying not one but two pistols, in low-slung black holsters. When Dan was almost upon him, the fellow said in a friendly enough way, ‘Whoa now, that’s about close enough, boy. What are you about?’
‘I been thrown out of yon company and I’m lookin’ for work.’
The man, who was so dark skinned as to cause Dan to wonder if he was perhaps Mexican, said, ‘This is strange listening. Why should you think as I might give you a job?’
‘Well, I’m thinking you might be vexed with those whores’ sons for doing harm to your friends.’
Dan very seldom used strong language and wondered for a second if he was overdoing his tough act. Apparently not, because the man started in surprise and said, ‘Who are these friends of mine?’
‘The ones who tried to make off with a hundred steers yester eve,’ said Dan confidently, ‘You say you’re nothing’ to do with the case?’
‘What harm’s befallen them?’
‘They was hanged last night.’
‘The hell they were! Who did that?’
Dan had worked out the story as he rode up and, although he was not a practiced or adept liar, he had an instinctive feel for weaving together just enough truth with his tale to invite belief. He was quite sure now that the man he was talking was an associate of the men he had seen killed yesterday. This in turn meant that he might be able to use this fellow to lead him to those who had been responsible for nearly getting him hanged along with the two rustlers. He said, ‘Here’s the way of it. I been caught sleeping on watch a couple of times and the trail boss said as if it happened one more time, then he’d hoof me out and I wouldn’t get paid. Well, sure enough, last night he come upon me, sound asleep. He was in such a temper that I feared for my safety. He says, ‘You bastard cowson, you. Just get yourself out of here.’ Just then, his men came up and they’d caught two men stealin’ stock. He caused ‘em to be strung up and then he threw me out the place and well, here I am.’
‘You sure they dead?’
‘Sure I’m sure. I see ‘em hang, like I done told you.’
‘That’s the hell of a thing. They was good friends to me.’
‘Well, I’m looking for work. You reckon as you could use me?’
The other man stared at Dan, eying him up and down, thoughtfully. At length, he said, ‘It may be so.’