CHAPTER 25
On day six of the drive Harp and the herd reached the Colorado River. The floodwater had receded some, but it still made for a full enough river bank to bank. Camped west of Austin, Harp listened to Long’s explanation of where Ira’s supply wagon could cross on a ferry and rejoin them north of there.
Harp gathered his riders and went over the river-crossing plans. “Put your clothes and boots in the wagon and hold on to your horses and the saddle horn. Stay out of the way of any cattle fighting in the river. Keep an eye out for anyone who can’t swim, loses his hold, and point him out to the swimmers. We need to help each other, but if you can’t swim don’t try it. Go with Ira and the wagon.”
Four men, who felt they couldn’t swim, went with the supply wagon. They would be at the other end to receive the herd and move them away from the landing as fast as possible to avoid a pileup.
Things were set. This would be, so far, the wildest crossing for them. He didn’t want to lose another man. They’d made it to Missouri with no casualties. He hoped he’d lost his last man for this trip. When the welcome party was assembled across from them, Sly put Blue in the river and the crossing of three thousand steers began.
Things went smoothly. A few steers floated downstream, but they crossed and could be gathered. Harp watched them closely, from a high point, and noted the cattle had settled a lot since the spooky bunch they were when they first combined them into the larger herd.
When the large part of the herd had crossed, dressed in his underwear, Harp slipped the horse into the river and headed for Abilene. The water was cold. Reminded him of the day he took Katy swimming and it was too cold to swim. A shiver went up his spine as he clung to his saddle horn and the veteran pony took to swimming. Shortly, Comanche was shaking off water on the far bank. They headed up the wet slope past the steers, reached the top, swung around them, and headed for the wagon.
Shivering, he dismounted. Long threw a blanket over him. “Get over to the fire and warm up.”
“I will. Boy that was cold. Thanks.”
“It looks like it went smoothly.”
Harp nodded. “We were later last year weren’t we?”
“Yes. It was a bit warmer then.”
Harp agreed, shivered again, as the trash underfoot hurt his bare soles as he headed for the fire. Once with the others, he nodded his head at his men huddled around the fire also trying to warm up.
“I never wanted to be a sailor.”
They laughed.
It was a good sign that they had some humor left in them after a cold crossing.
Long came over and told him they were all across with no losses.
“We will get reassembled and move out in the morning,” Harp promised him.
The sun warmed some as the day advanced. In his diary he wrote down the uneventful cold crossing and laughed. Remembering how he thought the cold crossing reminded him of his previous cold swim with Kate, he added that along with his enchantment and his missing her.
In the following days they rode on, finally reaching the Brazos, and knew Fort Worth wasn’t far away. The crossing of the Red would be farther west this time, and they’d be west of the Indian Territory wet bottoms that they mucked through the first trip. His plans were to resupply the wagon at Fort Worth and give the men a two-day holiday. Actually only a one-day off for half the crew to go to town and the other half going the next day. Each with five dollars in their pants. Beer was ten cents and the more common ladies of the night cost a dollar or less for a toss in the hay.
What more could a young drover want than that . . . ? Oh, maybe eat a big meal in a café. Ira would drive the supply wagon in and replenish the food supplies. Long was careful not to get their cattle close to any other herd also parked for the same reason.
While they lay over Harp rode south and found Doug’s herd. They spoke about the storm and two of his boys hurt—one with a broken arm and the other a broken leg. All else had gone well. Doug said Chaw, who was two days behind him, had no problems.
The Indian Territory came next. With a head-aching bunch of moaners and groaners they left the area west of Fort Worth and in a few days made the crossing over the Red River. There was a carpet of wild flowers covering the land they crossed.
The wagon went over first with some of the hands on the ferry with their mounts. The far bank was steep and wet and they didn’t need stalled cattle on the slope blocking those in the river trying to get out. He warned Red several would be swept downstream but instinct would deliver them on the north side. But if they tried to come onto land separated by large log floats they’d probably drown trying.
Some of the large dislodged trees were coming downstream and split some of the herd, but they managed to miss most of them, so the stream of cattle recovered. It was a hair-raising crossing with that many steers and took hours to get all of them over. More time was spent to drive the ones back that went downstream. But losses projected, they’d lost less than a dozen head. This satisfied Harper, on the north bank, warming at the big bonfire under a blanket. The Red River was a tough one at any time to cross. He thanked his maker, and when dry, killed the fire, dressed, and rode on into camp.
Somehow, he had a feeling his brother was not nearly as excited about this journey as he had been the year before. It was more of a job to do than the adventure they had going to Sedalia. But this one held even greater rewards for them if they succeeded. Maybe, too, they had simply become more grown up in the time span, branding mavericks, wheeling and dealing in ranches, and getting ready to go north.
Kate had promised him a son. He damn sure missed her, but the sex of the baby was not earth shaking for him. Healthy, the both of them, is what he wished for, and then there would be more. He hoped. His mother never had another one after he was born nine months after Long, but this was the future and he’d have lots of time for that later.
The Indians came for beef. Not the same ones, but these three demanded beef by the handfuls. In broken English, he let them talk on, forever, about how ferocious their warriors were.
Finally Harp had enough jabbering and he held up two fingers and said to come for them in the morning after they started. The hands would cut out two limpers from the back of the herd for them.
The Indians ranted some more, but Harper was unshaken and they finally agreed and rode off.
Red laughed. “I think you argued more last time.”
“We aren’t through here yet. There will be more beggars, so get ready for them.”
Two days farther up the road, with the herd on the road a few hours, Holy Wars came back and told Harp there was a woman they’d found delirious beside the road and Ira wanted him to come look at her. She had nothing but the clothes on her body.
“I better tell Red where I’m going. Only take a minute . . . he’s not too far away.”
He swung back on his horse and galloped off.
Catching up to Red, Harp explained, “Holy Wars found a woman on the road this morning. Says she’s delirious. I am going to try to help her.”
“Be careful. Things are smooth with this bunch.”
“See you later.” He and his wrangler rode off in a lope.
He spotted the supply wagon and they rode to it.
“How is she, Ira?”
“She’s under the wagon’s shade on a ground cloth. Don’t make a lot of sense to me, but maybe you can understand her.”
He hitched Comanche to the nearest wheel and went around to see her.
Someone had beaten her up—badly. Her right cheek was purple and her other eye was black. He guessed her to be in her teens. The wash-worn dress needed replacing. No shoes and by her splayed toes he figured she’d not worn many shoes, if ever.
How old was she? Sixteen, seventeen? Her hair needed brushing and she was dirty.
“Miss, can you hear me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What’s your name?” He was on his hands and knees bending down so she could see him.
“I really don’t kno—Is he gone?”
“No one was with you when my men found you, unconscious.”
When she tried to sit up, she hit her head on the trailer beam and fell back down.
“Sorry. Be careful. You are lying under a wagon. So, you don’t know your name?”
She ran her hand over the new bump. “I-I ain’t sure.”
“What was his name?”
“Who?”
“The guy that beat you up?”
“Is he the one standing there behind you?”
“No. His name is Holy Wars. He found you.”
She snickered. “That wasn’t his name?”
“Where do you live?”
“I guess here? Mister, I don’t know nothing. You got any food?”
“Lady, come out from under there. These men don’t have all day. They have to get set up in their new camp.”
She came out from under the wagon. “I can’t help. I don’t know nothing more. My head is spinning.” And she fainted.
“Ira, can you make a space for her in the wagon? We haven’t got all day. I think she’s weak from not eating. Hell, I am not sure of anything.” He scooped her up easily. She didn’t weigh anything. Between him and Holy they handed her up to Ira and Billy, the boy who helped him. Somehow they managed to find a place to lay her on a palette.
“Good. You can feed her when you make camp.”
Ira agreed, undid his reins, and Harp got off the wheel so he could drive on.
“What’cha figure she is?” Holy asked.
“Besides a badly beaten up girl, hungry and delirious, I have no idea.”
Holy handed him his reins. “I didn’t know, either. Kinda strange finding her out here with no one. Why, if a wolf had found her, he’d ate her.”
“He might have if he was hungry enough, though she don’t have much meat on her.”
In the saddle they rode out to his grazing horses. Holy raised the end of his lariat and went to slapping his chaps with it making a popping sound. The horses took off after the wagon like they knew where they were going.
The bell mare was Holy’s secret. She knew she’d get a handful of oats for following the wagon. The geldings were all pledged to her and followed her wherever she went. Holy made a real good horse wrangler, all without a lot of shouting and cussing. Most outfits would need three guys to hold them, herd them everywhere, and still cuss them as stupid. He had a notion about the youth. Now he knew how one man held sixty plus horses, drove them, and kept them ready to ride.
Sweet deal.
When they stopped for the night at the place Long had marked with a flag on a stick, Holy drove the horses to water in the creek. Harp, Ira, and Billy got the girl down and laid her on a ground cloth in the shade. The temperature was rising.
“We can make her some oatmeal when you get started,” Harp said to Ira.
Some of the hands came by to look at her. None had ever seen her before, and they left shaking their heads. Harp wondered if his brother had seen her before, but he was not back yet. That was just about his last hope of learning where she came from and where to take her.
When Long came in, Harp took him to look at her. She was still groggy, making little sense lying on her pallet.
“I saw her with a man on the road,” Long said. “I can’t put two and two together of what I know about ’em. He was leading a small horse she rode. He had a white beard and acted kinda gruff when I asked about her. He said she was none of my gawdamn business. Got my back up. She looked groggy then, but she was not as beat up then like she is now.”
“She’s out of her mind. There’s nowhere to dump her off at. I am not going to let her die if we can help it, but I’d like to know more about what happened, and she is the only one can tell us anything. . . if she could talk.”
Long agreed and shook his head. “I see that old man again, I’ll get the reason for her problems out of him.”
“Guess that’s all we can do.” Harp knew his brother well enough. He’d do what he said he would and that old man better be ready to spill the beans or he’d have a tough time getting away from Long.
Ira came over. “Billy and me’ll feed her. No one will touch her. Pitiful as all get out that someone beat her senseless. I ever learn who done it, I’ll clean his plow.”
“I want part of his hide, too,” Harp said. “Thanks, Ira. I bet we find them.”
“She seems a little better.”
“You are closer than we are, so you’d know. And we appreciate how hard you’ve worked to keep us fed.”
Ira smiled. “Harper, I told you once before, I really respect you and the way you run things. I get up every morning and tell Billy to look around, that he is part of a great outfit and that beats the hell out of most places he’ll ever work.”
Long nodded. “O’Malley brothers are tough, too.”
“No shortage of that,” Harp said. “Long, how are things up ahead?”
“Fine. Lots of grass and water.” Long looked back toward the supply wagon, then turned back. “Do you think she was doped some way or is only half here and they used her until they tired of her?”
“I have no idea. I am pleased we have gotten this far without any more troubles. I hope the others coming behind us are doing this well.”
“This rolling grass country beats mountains and woods for moving cattle.” Long laughed. “People will never believe the hell we had east of here last year.”
“I don’t miss it,” Harp said. “This open unpopulated country is ideal for moving them.”
The days and nights warmed as it was moving toward summer on the calendar. They had been making between twelve and sixteen miles a day. The new grass became strong and each passing day meant the steers added pounds and condition. Those were his concern—having them ready for buyers. The whole purpose of taking them north was sell the best cattle they could deliver.
* * *
Ira reported the next morning that the girl was improving.
At the evening meal she helped Ira and Billy prepare it. Harp could tell her mind was not any better when he tried to converse with her. So he left them, satisfied the two were taking care of her.
Holy checked on two of the horses the boys told him were showing they had a limp. One had a rock in his frog that Holy removed and said to skip his use for two rounds. The other must have bruised his hoof. Skip his usage for two turns also and he’d watch him.
The cowboy Harold Nelson, who played the guitar, was strumming it again after the meal. This was a relaxing time for his crew and they enjoyed it. Ira quit what he was doing, dried his hands, and came over to listen, standing close to Harp.
“I learned a little about her today. She said her name was Candy. And the last guy who beat her up was Howard somebody.”
“Long saw the two of them on this road before someone beat her up. Said he was white headed and whiskered.”
“She comes and goes in and out of her mind. We may never know the truth.”
“Right. You good on your supplies?”
“Oh, we should make it to Abilene on what I have on hand.”
“If you run out we may be up a bad creek. We have seen little civilization out here.”
“It sure isn’t populated.”
The next day Harp saw his first herd of buffalo moving west of his cattle. Not a large group but cows, calves, and some bulls. An impressive enough sight. He knew Comanche knew them. The way his horse stiffened his gait, tensed up, and laid his ears back like he expected Harp to chase them. But instead, he swung him back to the herd. He’d put that sighting in his diary and also write Katy that he saw them when they made camp.
She’d sure get lots of mail when he found a post office to mail all his letters from. He wondered about his son’s arrival. Simply thinking about her was enough to upset him. Not that he didn’t trust her waiting for him, but their first long separation was not easy for him to take. He’d make it up to her.
That evening, Long told him there was a store on the way north they’d pass the next day, and it had a post office. Harp told the men, and some accepted paper, envelopes, and pencils to share, and wrote notes for him to mail. He had all his mail ready as well. A touch of civilization but being still in the Indian Territory there would be no alcohol. Not that he used it, but while Kansas frowned on it, they’d find some above that line.
Pikesville I. T. was the address there. The store was a soddy and smelled like sour unbathed humans. The place was dark and lighted with candle lamps, and the other smell inside was from the stacks of dried buffalo hides. He bought two sacks of hard candy to hand out to the men from time to time.
The crotchety clerk said Harp’s cook had bought some girl a dress and other things, and the cook said Harp’d pay for them when he got there. That didn’t count all the three-cent postage stamps he owed the man for mailing all the letters. It all cost seven dollars. Harp paid him and left the place with some Bull Durham tobacco, paper to roll the cigarettes with, and strike-anywhere torpedo matches. There were boys on his crew that would be extremely grateful for those smoking supplies.
Lots to do and many more miles to go.
In a week they forded the wide, shallow Arkansas River, and on the far side a sign said, “Follow the piles of sod to Abilene—Joe McCoy.”
He damn sure intended to. The crossing was not nearly as wild as the one that put Emory out of commission.
In two weeks or so he knew they would be in Abilene—selling steers.
God’s blessed them all.