CHAPTER 5
Two days’ drive north of Lee’s Creek, Harp rode down and looked at the two-foot waterfall called Natural Dam on the same creek. The first day had been a short one and they stayed near the country store at a place known as Union Town. They had no trouble. A few curious men came by and asked him where they were headed. When they learned of their destination, most shook their heads and as much as said Greg’s men would not get there with all those damn cattle.
“Tomorrow we have to cross some mountains, but there are some deserted farms we can stop and graze at. It’ll be another short day,” Long explained. “I know we aren’t making many long moves, but with woods, and finding water and grass, is where we need to stop.”
“I understand. Emory don’t need any more shaking up, either, than he gets in a day.”
“He is not getting stronger very fast is he?”
“Braver yes. Better no,” said Harp.
“I know you have considered it, but what will we do if he dies?”
“Bury him and go on. Nothing else we can do. He wants the cattle sold and his wife to get his share.”
“We have never sold but two steers in our lifetime. How do you do that?”
“He’s been telling me how. I think you and I can handle it.”
“I hope you’re listening good.”
“I am. So far so good. The rest of the way like this?”
“Yes. Woods, farms, and water.”
“Keep finding us places like that is all I can say.”
So far, Harp bet a hundred curious men had come by and asked where they were going. Then they left, shaking their heads about the notion of going to Sedalia.
The cowboys came to a closed stage stop, and a farmer told them Fayetteville was about ten miles north. No stages were running yet since the operation had been closed because of the war efforts.
One passerby said, “I bet the Union Army stops you up there. They have gotten to be real damn bossy since Lee signed that damn armistice. They don’t want Rebs to make a dime and he wants us all to starve to death.”
Hearing that, Harp told the boys to secure all their rifles, hiding them in the wagon. They might need them and he didn’t want to lose them to some zealous Union guards.
No telling what they’d face on up the road.
Some armed men came by that night after dark. The leader called himself Smith and they asked lots of questions. Too many for Harp’s comfort.
Harp finally asked if the men were resisting the Union forces.
“You’re damn right. Lee might have surrendered, but by gawd we ain’t.”
“Listen. I am in charge of these cattle for a man and more people back in Texas. My job is to take them to market. I am not fighting the Union Army. I am going to deliver them to the railhead in Missouri and that is all.”
“You just going to let them take this land and your rights from you?”
“I know nothing about taking land and rights. I told you what I am doing. Now clear out of my camp.”
Smith drew a pistol and threatened to fire it.
“Put down the damn gun. It could stampede our cattle.”
“You yellowbellied carp-sucking fish. I ought to kill all of you.”
Doug knocked him out from behind with a club, while six guns drawn immediately backed Harp. He ordered the intruders to take their leader out of the camp and be gone.
“You are not welcome here.”
They picked up their groggy leader and left the camp.
When they were gone, Harp told the boys, “We didn’t come up here to fight the damn war all over again. We have steers to deliver and that’s the job. I know many of you fought during the war, but it is over and we have to make the best of it. We have to get these bawling cattle to Missouri and sell them to get a dime for our time. That’s my goal. I hope to hell it’s yours.”
A chorus of amens supported him.
The next day, following the same river that they had learned to swim in, they headed for the town called Fayetteville. Long thought they could go around the town.
A small company of Union soldiers stopped them on the main road.
Harp rode around the stopped cattle to see why.
“What’s wrong?” he asked Chaw.
He gave a head toss toward the mounted soldiers and said, “He says we need papers to prove these cattle were not stolen and to enter the town ahead.”
Harp booted his horse over to the lieutenant.
“Sir, these cattle come from Kerrville, Texas. The man who owns them is in that wagon. They bear his brand, which in Texas is legal ownership.”
“Where are the papers from the newly reformed government of Texas showing you have the right to remove these animals from that state?”
“When I left Texas six weeks ago there was no new government formed.”
“Then you will have to stop here and wait until such papers can arrive.”
“Sir. There are eight hundred large steers here. They will eat you out of house and home staying here.”
“Then they may have to be destroyed. They are illegal contraband today.”
“Sir. You don’t have the bullets to shoot them. Second, the smell would drive people crazy and bring along every buzzard and wild hog to eat them.”
“I am demanding you stop here until my commander decides what to do.”
“May I go along and speak to him?”
“Without a side arm, yes. I consider you a rebel spy.”
“I’m sorry. The war is over. I never served in the Confederate Army. I was a Texas Ranger and patrolled against the Comanche.” He unbuckled his gun belt and handed it to Chaw. “Let’s go see him.”
“I will leave some men here to see they obey my orders.”
“Chaw, you and Doug spread the cattle out to graze. I’ll go find us a way to go on.”
“We can do that. I’ll send word for the cook to come back here and make camp.”
Harp agreed. The officer left three of his men to guard the herd from moving and two more enlisted men rode with them. He could tell they thought he was Jefferson Davis’s right arm.
The army’s office was in a brick house with armed troops posted outside. They hitched their horses. He’d learned the officer was Lieutenant Craig Johnston.
Johnston told him to wait in the living room.
The commander came out and looked him up and down. “The lieutenant tells me you are moving contraband cattle without papers.”
“Sir, the cattle belonged to my boss who had a heart attack a few days ago and was unable to ride up here to talk to you himself. He is back in one of our wagons. We left Texas to bring these cattle to Sedalia, Missouri, so there would be beef available to the empty meat markets in the North. At that time there was no occupying forces in Texas or no new government to issue permits. But I understand there are food shortages in the north and east parts of the United States. So I feel I am doing my public duty bringing these cattle to the railhead to offset that shortage. These cattle all bear the owner’s brand, which is proof of ownership in Texas.”
“Where did you go to school?”
“The first two grades in Cincinnati, Arkansas, and five more in Texas. My mother was very well educated as well.”
“I can tell that. Will you swear you are not part of the Confederate government or that army?”
“I never have been, sir.”
“Lieutenant, I think you did an excellent job of stopping him. Food is short in the North. We will give him a pass to go on if he signs the non-enemy agreement.”
The lieutenant saluted him. “I will go back with him after that and release his herd.”
“Bring me that form,” the commander said. “Have you had much opposition coming up here?”
“Some Indians stopped us and we gave them a steer.”
“If you sign this we will give you a pass to continue. Perhaps two steers could be left to feed my soldiers. Meat is short here as well.”
“When we get up here, have some men meet us and we can provide that, sir.”
“Give him a pen.”
Harp bent over the desk and skimmed the words and signed it.
“We were thinking about going around your town, sir.”
“Oh, no. I want to show the people of the town we are concerned about the food shortage and are allowing you to pass through here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“When will you drive through?”
“Day after tomorrow, sir.”
“I will meet you, and the quartermaster will accept those two head of cows.”
“They are steers, sir.”
“I meant steers, and thank you, Mr. O’Malley.”
Harp rode back with his escort and the soldiers went home.
Every hand in camp could hardly wait for him to tell them what happened.
He took his copy out of his saddlebags and held them up. “This is a pass from the Union Army to take our cattle all the way to Sedalia. I can’t tell you what a relief this paper is. After all that damn book reading Lieutenant gave us, the officer in charge gave me a pass to deliver these cattle. It is the best thing could’ve happened to us guys. That shavetail wanted to slaughter the whole herd and make us go back to Texas with our tail between our legs.”
Harp was still overwhelmed by what had happened. “I can’t believe it happened, but we really do have a pass from the Union Army to go forth.”
He went by to tell Emory and show him the papers. The news revived him and he sat up smiling.
“You damn sure are a hero. How come?”
“All I said was we were doing our duty feeding the people starving in the North. I did, however, promise him two steers for his quartermaster.”
“I swear some day you need to run for office in Texas.”
“This herding cattle is teaching me that I don’t want to do that.”
Long came back later and Harp filled him in on what happened.
“Right through town?”
“Yes. He wants credit for us doing such a great job of helping feed the starving people in the North.”
With his plate in his lap, Long leaned back and laughed. “You serious?”
“I am.”
“You need to be a lawyer.”
“Why is everyone looking for work for me? Emory wants me to be in the legislature, you want me being a lawyer. I want to herd cattle in Texas.”
“Well, brother, you did it again. Whew. I am glad you are handling all the bull they have been passing out.”
The next day they camped south of town on the West Fork of the White River. The site was on a deserted farm grown up in grass and weeds in a valley surrounded by forest-covered hills. Long said the town was over the hill.
Several individuals came out to see and talk to them. They were mostly farmers curious about the longhorn cattle, and they talked about the war in the area.
One man told them that before the war this was the finest country to live in, but the back and forth fighting had ruined it and most folks had moved away.
“We lived over at Cincinnati,” Harp told him. “Dad moved us to Texas before they even talked about war.”
“What you think those steers are worth up at that railhead?”
“Oh fifty to sixty dollars a head.”
“That is lots of money.”
“It has cost lots to get them here,” Harp said.
“Oh, you guys are crazy. Why Lee hadn’t even surrendered when you left home.”
Harp agreed. “We aren’t choosing sides. This is a job to me and my brother. There are cattle in Texas. There are hungry people in the North. We are simply the go-between.”
“I hope you make it, but I figure these damn Yankees won’t let you make a dime if they can help it.”
“We have a pass.”
“Good luck. You guys look mighty young to be running it to me.”
“We’ve been handling it.”
“Oh, you’d not got here, otherwise, without being smart. See yah again I hope.”
“So do I.”
With the man gone, Harp went to see Emory.
His boss was sitting up under a canvas shade. “I see you’re getting some attention.”
“We’re kinda like a circus came to town. They come to see the wild animals.”
Emory laughed. “We must be halfway by now.”
“I think so, too. I’m glad you’re doing better. These empty farms sure have helped us. There is no other stock I see, so we have graze. But I have no idea what Missouri will be like when we get there.”
“In a couple of days we will be at a place called Pea Ridge. I have been this far north during the war. General Benjamin McCullough, early on in the battle, was killed up there by a sniper. After his demise it was a very mismanaged battle. I was there and his death led to bedlam. The Confederate forces fell apart. McCullough was the leader and with him gone, the rest of the officers thought it was over and ran way. We should never have run but we retreated to Fort Smith.
“Before being killed, McCullough had wiped out the whole Yankee Army up at Springfield. They even killed a Yankee general and sent the rest of them all running back to Saint Louis. Folks asked why didn’t he run them down? He told me, those poor dedicated farmers didn’t have any more ammo or anything else.”
“Well, we have the ammo and the rifles still, and God I hope we don’t need them.”
“Your oral defense saved the soldier from searching for them. They could have said you planned to revolt and those rifles were the proof. That was very smart.”
“Aw that shavetail didn’t know what to do with that many dead steers.”
“They said you warned him he didn’t have the bullets to shoot them all.”
“I did. I am simply glad tomorrow we will be north of there.”
Emory nodded. “Do you know what you will do in Sedalia?”
“Look for buyers?”
“Maybe hold up the herd before getting there, and you go in and advertise in the paper that you have mature Texas beef coming in on the hoof in about ten days, and where to see you about them.”
“Ads and hotels cost money. I have maybe forty dollars.”
“No,” Emory said. “You have two hundred. I am going to give you that money to handle the deal. I kept it for me doing this, but you will have to do that now. It is in gold, so the money will be good anywhere. I knew Confederate paper was worthless, so I made sure to have some real coins.”
“What price do you think they will bring per head?”
“Eighty would be wonderful. That’s a head. Sixty would be powerful, and less than that is probably what we will get. But secure the money. Don’t carry it on you. That will be even a greater job than driving the cattle up here—how to get the money back to Texas. Especially when word is out that you have thousands of dollars on you. It will make you a marker for every outlaw in the five states and the Indian Territory.”
“How long can I bluff and not sell them until we get the money we want?”
“That gets dangerous, too. That many cattle being around and not sold won’t be appreciated. You better cut and run when you think you’ve topped the market. Where are you putting this money?” Emory asked as he tossed him a heavy leather sack.
Harp hefted it in one hand. “I’ll find a place.”
“Good. I’m counting on it.”
“No matter what happens, Long and I will see your wife and children are taken care of and all the debts paid.”
“You two, and the men need paid as well. Don’t leave yourselves out.”
“We won’t,” Harp promised him.
“I remember the Butterfield Hotel is on the side of the hill in Fayetteville. I slept there going and coming back from the Elkhorn Tavern at Pea Ridge. They say he built it there on his stage line saying it would someday be in the heart of a big metropolis. But that was before the war wasn’t it?”
Harp agreed. The town had suffered some war damage and there were not many people around there.
The next morning herding the steers north on the main street going up a steep hill, Harp saw the hotel beside the road and several other buildings, all looking empty. The town square, they said, was west of there. Two army-uniformed men took the two sore-footed steers pointed out to them.
They thanked his men and moved the cattle off without them bawling at the separation. Payment made, he rode back to help his men keep the cattle off the boardwalks as many men, women, and children stood back and watched.
A few brassy women holding up their dresses walked along with the herd and talked to his cowboys about doing business with them. He heard Eldon Morehouse shout, “I’d love to, ma’am, but I ain’t got a wooden nickel to pay you.”
The herd and his men went on to camp on a creek north of town on more unused pastureland. Dawn they went north by some small community and the Fitzgerald stage stop. It had not been used in some years but this country would wake up—with the war over and ready to open up again.
In a few days they drove past the Elkhorn Tavern, which was off the road, and they took Emory by there in the wagon to simply see it. After looking at the still intact two-story building, he lay back down on his bed and Harp wondered if he was slipping again. If only he lived to see Sedalia. No telling about the man’s life span, but it was narrowing. Harp knew that much for certain.
They took the stage route north a few miles east of there. The country they were on was some high rolling plains, and many farms here, too, were empty. They went through Seligman and camped beyond it on another unnamed creek.
The road turned east at Cassville, and they avoided the town moving toward Springfield. Long thought in three to five days they would be there.
In a few places some farmers, armed with shotguns and on mules, blocked the road, demanding that they not bring the herd through their country.
Hamp was short with them. “Our cattle are healthy. We won’t do anything but pass by and won’t hurt a thing. Now get the hell out of the road.”
“Mister, after the damn war we ain’t got much. Our stock dies our families will starve.”
“Stand aside,” he ordered. “We’re only passing through. If we don’t sell our cattle our families will starve. Now get back or I’ll be forced to shoot you.”
Harp could not understand their problem. They had not lost a half dozen steers to any disease. What made these people so hardheaded? Superstition? He had no idea.
When they turned north of Springfield a sheriff came to their camp to serve papers on them.
The lawman said, “You can’t go on with these Texas cattle. I have a warrant here to stop you.”
“Why? We aren’t planning to start the war over. I have heard this bullshit for a week coming from Cassville. Those steers out there are healthy. What are you talking about?”
“They are carriers of Texas tick fever. Those cattle are immune to it and our cattle are not.”
“How can one catch it and another can’t?”
“I am not a scientist, but the University of Missouri asked the legislature to ban Texas cattle from coming here.”
“Mister, the sooner we go on the better your cattle will be. The longer you impound my cattle here, if they know so much, then the more disease you will get. Let me get out of your county. I will be out of here tomorrow.”
“You promise to never come back here again?”
“You won’t see me ever again.”
“You do I’ll lock you in jail and throw away the key.”
“Deal.”
Texas tick fever . . . he never even heard about that. Never mind, they had to get to Sedalia quickly, sell the steers, and get home.
He paced the ground and Long came back into camp, talking about more trouble for them brewing right up the road.
Huh? What did he mean? They had escaped one lawman only a week before and in duck soup with another wanting to kill them. Hell, they were within days of their goal and the end of the railroad tracks—why couldn’t these people simply let them sell their beef and go home?
Long shook his head. “There’s some law up there going to kill every rebel soldier in the outfit if you try to go north on this road. It’s not a threat. They’re saying every Texan is an ex-soldier for the Confederacy.”
“Gather the men in camp. Are those idiots on their way to stop us?”
“Supposed to be. That’s why I came back so fast.”
“Ira, we need to unload rifles and ammo. Tell the men to form a line and stand ten to twelve feet apart. If the shooting starts, mow them down but wait for my word.”
Ira agreed.
Long went to gather the men that were in camp. When they were assembled Harp called them to order. “Men we have posse coming to kill us I’m told. If they are coming we need to be prepared. I need you to each get a rifle and ammo. Be sure it is loaded to the gate and come and line up ten to twelve feet apart. Don’t shoot until I say so. I think we can stare them down. Remember, don’t shoot no matter how much they taunt you. But if pushed I will give the word. One of you get half the herders back here and explain carefully. I’m going up the road to meet them.”
Ira handed him a rifle. “It’s loaded.”
“I want to stop them on the hill,” he shouted to Long.
“I’ll be there. Kevin’s gone to get half the herders.”
Harp nodded and, taking long strides, loped for the top of the hill and the road. The steers were pretty well road broke. He doubted they would stampede. But anything could happen. Why kill rebels? In his mind he had no idea—the damn war was over.
When he reached the hilltop and road, he heard the drum of horses in the distance. Their dust rose above the hardwoods that lined the roadway. From the looks of things, Long barely had time to warn them that they were on their way. What a mess.
Next to Harp, Long slid his big horse to a halt and bailed off with his rifle in his hands.
“They’re coming for sure,” Harp said.
He nodded. “I hope you can stop them.”
“Our men are making a line that should impress the comers. You ever meet the head guy?”
Long shook his head. “But I heard that he is a hot head. I’m saying fifty-fifty we are going to have a shoot-out.”
“Surely he is not that dumb.”
“The folks I talked to say he is.”
Harp shook his head. The posse was coming up the road. The men were mostly riding mules and carrying shotguns. Many he could see were single shot, too.
The big man with a badge pinned onto his suit and big hat on a flashy black horse reined up and set his men behind him. Harp noted that mules didn’t rein up like horses, and there was some confusion and lots of honking. The man with the silver badge on his chest rode his horse closer.
“I am the sheriff of this county. My name is Sherlock Harris and I am placing all of you and your men under arrest. Throw down your guns.”
A mule or two broke rank and had to be jerked back in place.
“My name is Harper O’Malley. I am a rancher from Bexar County, Texas. My friends and neighbors entrusted me to bring their cattle up here to help the food shortage in the North. Since Sedalia is the railhead, we drove these cattle here so people could eat beef.”
“You’re a bunch of sap-sucking rebel soldiers.”
“My men are cowhands who came a thousand miles or more to feed folks who don’t have food. Harris, we will not surrender. Move aside so we can do our things and go home peacefully.”
“I said throw down your guns or we will start shooting.”
“Harris, don’t you be stupid. Your men are on mules. When the first shot is fired they are going to buck and kick. Your men have one shot. My men have ten shots apiece in their Winchesters. Who is going to die on this road?”
“I said—”
“Harris, think real hard. Lots of folks are going to die here. There are fathers and brothers with you. You going to tell their wives and mothers you had them slayed?”
Harp knew the man’s temper was controlling him. But he also could see Long had his horse for shield and the .44 was pointed at the big man’s heart.
“Don’t let him bluff you, Sheriff. We can whip their southern asses.” Verbal advice came from his posse.
Harp had enough. “Tell that mouthy one to come out here. I’ll fistfight him myself. None of my men will do a thing if I lose, but don’t let my defeat signal you to move. They will gun you down—”
A shot went off among the posse. Harris’s horse whirled around and several mules and their riders were bucked off into the woods. Obviously it was an accidental discharge, but Harp was glad Harris could see what the mules’ responses were to only one shot being fired—pure bedlam.
“Does he want to fight me bare fisted?” Harp asked him.
Harris never looked over his shoulder. “Jonathan Carter, get out here.”
Another big man, about twenty, took the single shot off over his head by the strap. He handed the shotgun off and someone else took the mule’s reins. Harp stepped off his horse, unbuckled his gun belt, re-buckled it, and hung it on his saddle horn.
He put his felt hat over it and turned back to the big-chested man.
“My name’s Harp O’Malley. What’s yours?”
They had begun circling each other. “Jonathan Carter, the third. I’m going to teach you a lesson here, Reb. One you won’t forget for the rest of your short life.”
“I’ve had enough lessons. But thanks . . .”
Head down like a bull, Carter came screaming. Harp threw himself on the ground and made a pair of scissors out of his legs, and that threw Carter ass over teakettle on the ground. He was dazzled some by the tumble, but he came right back at Harp again.
Harp pounded his head with his fists and then tripped him. He had the man dazed and he didn’t want him back to full strength. He jumped on his back before he could flip over and pulled his head back with all his strength until Carter screamed, “I quit.”
“You had enough?”
“Yah.”
Harp let him go and moved off, keeping his attention focused on him.
Carter’s face was bleeding and he looked like a wounded bear. He sat up and rubbed his cheeks with his dirty hands.
“Texas, you are the toughest son of a bitch as I ever tackled. When I get up I want to shake your hand. I won’t ever pick a fight with you again.”
Harp nodded and brushed his hair back with his sore hand. His men still stood in the line, rifles ready. He shook the big man’s hand. “Carter, I have a job to do. I am no part of the old or new Confederate Army. I have eight hundred steers to sell so that many folks won’t lose their ranches. My boss is dying in a wagon back in our camp from an old war wound. He won’t even see his wife again before he dies. I am in charge. Help me get these cattle on a train to market, and I will pay you and all of these men some good wages.”
“There’s thirty of us,” Carter said. “How many do you want?”
“Twenty dollars each when the cattle are on the train going out of here.”
“Did you hear him?” Carter asked.
“Hell, yes,” someone shouted, and they all agreed.
Harp gave him a sharp nod. “Men, go put up the guns. Let’s get the cattle moving. We’re going to Sedalia and we have help.”
Long rode in and nodded at his brother. “These guys are as hard up as we were for money?”
“Maybe more. Start delegating work. You find a place to graze the herd?”
“The pasture up close to town will cost us a hundred dollars. It has good fences. Best I can do. Has lots of water.”
“Show us the way. Men! Long has a place to pasture, close to town.”
“John Sutton’s farm.”
“Okay. Now, one of you take me to the telegraph office,” Harp shouted at the mule riders, his new employees.
An older man on a mule rode up. “Follow me, cowboy.”
“Harp’s my name,” he said, and finished buckling on his Colt and then putting on his hat.
“Jedadiah Brant is mine.”
“Long, see to things. I’m going to sell these cattle.”
“I savvy that, bro. I can handle it.”
Jed’s mule broke into a trot with Harp’s horse single-footing beside him. It was dark when they reached the train depot. He asked the man at the key if he knew any meatpackers in St. Louis.
“I have a directory. Who do you need to contact?”
“All of them.”
“Write your message on a pad. I can send them tonight.”
He wrote:
Name, Harp O’Malley. 800 fat steers for sale at Sedalia MO Stop Asking eighty dollars apiece Stop Send railcars here at once. Telegraph me at the Sedalia Depot. First one with a letter of credit or cash gets them Stop Harp
“I counted the meatpackers. That many telegrams will cost you twenty-five dollars.”
“I can pay you.” He dug the money out.
“I will hold any replies you receive.”
“I’ll be back to check on them.”
The clerk, businesslike, nodded. “You from Texas?”
“Yes.”
“How the hell did you get that many steers up here?”
“We drove them. Damn hard work.”
“Why I thought that posse set out to kill you rebels this morning?”
“I hired them to work instead.”
“You did what?”
“I’ll need some help loading them when the cars get here and driving them in town so they don’t horn anyone.”
The telegraph operator was laughing. “Mister, you ever sold fish worms?”
“ No.”
“I bet they’d take them hook, line, and sinker.”
He shook the man’s hand. “I’ll be back.”
“Mister, if you get eighty dollar a head for some old boney steers, I’ll give you the money back for the telegrams.”
“I’ll be back to collect.”
“You do that. I damn sure will.”