Chapter IX. At Sheriff's Creek

by Andy Adams

　　The sun had nearly set when we galloped into Bob Quirk's camp.Halting only long enough to advise my brother of the escape ofTolleston and his joining the common enemy, I asked him to throwany pursuit off our trail, as I proposed breaking camp thatevening. Seay and myself put behind us the few miles between thetwo wagons, and dashed up to mine just as the outfit werecorralling the remuda for night-horses. Orders rang out, andinstead of catching our regular guard mounts, the boys picked thebest horses in their strings. The cattle were then nearly a milenorth of camp, coming in slowly towards the bed-ground, but ahalf-dozen of us rushed away to relieve the men on herd and turnthe beeves back. The work-mules were harnessed in, and as soon asthe relieved herders secured mounts, our camp of the past fewdays was abandoned. The twilight of evening was upon us, and tothe rattling of the heavily loaded wagon and the shouting of thewrangler in our rear were added the old herd songs. The cattle,without trail or trace to follow, and fit ransom for a dozenkings in pagan ages, moved north as if imbued with the spirit ofthe occasion.A fair moon favored us. The night was an ideal one for work, andabout twelve o'clock we bedded down the herd and waited for dawn.As we expected to move again with the first sign of day, no onecared to sleep; our nerves were under a high tension withexpectation of what the coming day might bring forth. Ourlocation was an unknown quantity. All agreed that we were fullyten miles north of the Saw Log, and, with the best reasoning atmy command, outside the jurisdiction of Ford County. The regulartrail leading north was some six or eight miles to the west, andfearful that we had not reached unorganized territory, I wasdetermined to push farther on our course before veering to theleft. The night halt, however, afforded us an opportunity tocompare notes and arrive at some definite understanding as to theprogramme of the forthcoming day. "Quirk, you missed the sight ofyour life," said Jake Blair, as we dismounted around the wagon,after bedding the cattle, "by not being there when the discoverywas made that these 'Open A's' were Don Lovell's cattle.Tolleston, of course, made the discovery; but I think he musthave smelt the rat in advance. Archie and the buyers arrived fora late dinner, and several times Tolleston ran his eye over oneof the boys and asked, 'Haven't I met you somewhere?' but none ofthem could recall the meeting. Then he got to nosing around thewagon and noticing every horse about camp. The road-brand on thecattle threw him off the scent just for a second, but when hebegan reading the ranch-brands, he took a new hold. As he lookedover the remuda, the scent seemed to get stronger, and when henoticed the 'Circle Dot' on those work-mules, he opened up andbayed as if he had treed something. And sure enough he had; foryou know, Tom, those calico lead mules belonged in his team lastyear, and he swore he'd know them in hell, brand or no brand.When Archie announced the outfit, lock, stock, and barrel, asbelonging to Don Lovell, the old buyers turned pale as ghosts,and the fat one took off his hat and fanned himself. That actalone was worth the price of admission. But when we boys wereappealed to, we were innocent and likewise ignorant, claimingthat we always understood that the herd belonged to the Marshallestate, but then we were just common hands and not supposed toknow the facts in the case. Tolleston argued one way, and we allpulled the other, so they drove away, looking as if they hoped itwasn't true. But it was the sight of your life to see that fatfellow fan himself as he kept repeating, 'I thought you boyshurried too much in buying these cattle.'The guards changed hourly. No fire was allowed, but Parent setout all the cold food available, and supplementing this withcanned goods, we had a midnight lunch. Dorg Seay regaled theoutfit with his recent experience, concealing nothing, andregretfully admitting that his charge had escaped before the workwas finished. A programme was outlined for the morrow, the mainfeature of which was that, in case of pursuit, we would all tellthe same story. Dawn came between three and four on those Junemornings, and with the first streak of gray in the east wedivided the outfit and mounted our horses, part riding to pushthe cattle off their beds and the others to round in the remuda.Before the herd had grazed out a half-mile, we were overtaken byhalf the outfit on fresh mounts, who at once took charge of theherd. When the relieved men had secured horses, I remained behindand assisted in harnessing in the team and gathering the saddlestock, a number of which were missed for lack of proper light.With the wagon once started, Levering and myself soon had thefull remuda in hand and were bringing up the rear in a long,swinging trot. Before the sun peeped over the eastern horizon, wepassed the herd and overtook the wagon, which was bumping alongover the uneven prairie. Ordering the cook to have breakfastawaiting us beyond a divide which crossed our front, I turnedback to the herd, now strung out in regular trailing form. Thehalt ahead would put us full fifteen miles north of our camp onthe Saw Log. An hour later, as we were scaling the divide, one ofthe point-men sighted a posse in our rear, coming after us likefiends. I was riding in the swing at the time, the herd beingstrung out fully a mile, and on catching first sight of thepursuers, turned and hurried to the rear. To my agreeablesurprise, instead of a sheriff's posse, my brother and five ofhis men galloped up and overtook us."Well, Tom, it's a good thing you moved last night," said Bob, ashe reined in his reeking horse. "A deputy sheriff and posse ofsix men had me under arrest all night, thinking I was the Quirkwho had charge of Don Lovell's 'Open A' herd. Yes, they came tomy camp about midnight, and I admitted that my name was Quirk andthat we were holding Lovell's cattle. They guarded me untilmorning,--I slept like an innocent babe myself,--when thediscovery was made that my herd was in a 'Circle Dot' road-brandinstead of an 'Open A,' which their warrant called for. Besides,I proved by fourteen competent witnesses, who had known me foryears, that my name was Robert Burns Quirk. My outfit told theposse that the herd they were looking for were camped three milesbelow, but had left during the afternoon before, and no doubtwere then beyond their bailiwick. I gave the posse thehorse-laugh, but they all went down the creek, swearing theywould trail down that herd of Lovell's. My cattle are going tofollow up this morning, so I thought I'd ride on ahead and beyour guest in case there is any fun to-day."The auxiliary was welcomed. The beeves moved on up the dividelike veterans assaulting an intrenchment. On reaching a narrowmesa on the summit, a northwest breeze met the leaders, andfacing it full in the eye, the herd was allowed to tack westwardas they went down the farther slope. This watershed afforded afine view of the surrounding country, and from its apex I scannedour rear for miles without detecting any sign of animate life.From our elevation, the plain dipped away in every direction. Farto the east, the depression seemed as real as a trough in theocean when seen from the deck of a ship. The meanderings of thisdivide were as crooked as a river, and as we surveyed its courseone of Bob's men sighted with the naked eye two specks fully fivemiles distant to the northwest, and evidently in the vicinity ofthe old trail. The wagon was in plain view, and leaving three ofmy boys to drift the cattle forward, we rode away with ravenousappetites to interview the cook. Parent maintained his reputationas host, and with a lofty conversation reviewed the legal aspectof the situation confronting us. A hasty breakfast over, mybrother asked for mounts for himself and men; and as we werecorralling our remuda, one of the three lads on herd signaled tous from the mesa's summit. Catching the nearest horses at hand,and taking our wrangler with us, we cantered up the slope to ourwaiting sentinel."You can't see them now," said Burl Van Vedder, our outlook; "butwait a few minutes and they'll come up on higher ground. Here,here, you are looking a mile too far to the right--they're notfollowing the cattle, but the wagon's trail. Keep your eyes tothe left of that shale outcropping, and on a line with that lonetree on the Saw Log. Hold your horses a minute; I've beenwatching them for half an hour before I called you; be patient,and they'll rise like a trout. There! there comes one on a grayhorse. See those two others just behind him. Now, there come theothers--six all told." Sure enough, there came the sleuths ofdeputy sheriffs, trailing up our wagon. They were not over threemiles away, and after patiently waiting nearly an hour, we rodeto the brink of the slope, and I ordered one of the boys to firehis pistol to attract their attention. On hearing the report,they halted, and taking off my hat I waved them forward. Feelingthat we were on safe territory, I was determined to get in thefirst bluff, and as they rode up, I saluted the leader and said:"Good-morning, Mr. Sheriff. What are you fooling along on ourwagon track for, when you could have trailed the herd in a longlope? Here we've wasted a whole hour waiting for you to come up,just because the sheriff's office of Ford County employs asdeputies 'nesters' instead of plainsmen. But now since you arehere, let us proceed to business, or would you like to breakfastfirst? Our wagon is just over the other slope, and you-all lookpale around the gills this morning after your long ride andsleepless night. Which shall it be, business or breakfast?"Haughtily ignoring my irony, the leader of the posse drew fromhis pocket several papers, and first clearing his throat, said inan imperious tone, "I have a warrant here for the arrest of TomQuirk, alias McIndoo, and a distress warrant for a herd of 'OpenA'--""Old sport, you're in the right church, but the wrong pew," Iinterrupted. "This may be the state of Kansas, but at present weare outside the bailiwick of Ford County, and those papers ofyours are useless. Let me take those warrants and I'll indorsethem for you, so as to dazzle your superiors on their returnwithout the man or property. I was deputized once by a constablein Texas to assist in recovering some cattle, but just like thepresent case they got out of our jurisdiction before we overtookthem. The constable was a lofty, arrogant fellow like yourself,but had sense enough to keep within his rights. But when it cameto indorsing the warrant for return, we were all up a stump, androde twenty miles out of our way so as to pass Squire Little'sranch and get his advice on the matter. The squire had been ajustice in Tennessee before coming to our state, and knew justwhat to say. Now let me take those papers, and I'll indorse them'Non est inventus,' which is Latin for scooted, by gosh! Ain'tyou going to let me have them?""Now, look here, young man," scornfully replied the chief deputy,"I'll--""No, you won't," I again interrupted. "Let me read you a warrantfrom a higher court. In the name of law, you are willing toprostitute your office to assist a gang of thieves who have takenadvantage of an opportunity to ruin my employer, an honest traildrover. The warrant I'm serving was issued by Judge Colt, and itsays he is supreme in unorganized territory; that your officialauthority ceases the moment you step outside your jurisdiction,and you know the Ford County line is behind us. Now, as acitizen, I'll treat you right, but as an official, I won't evenlisten to you. And what's more, you can't arrest me or any man inmy outfit; not that your hair's the wrong color, but because youlack authority. I'm the man you're looking for, and these are DonLovell's cattle, but you can't touch a hoof of them, not even astray. Now, if you want to dispute the authority which I'vesighted, all you need to do is pull your guns and open yourgame.""Mr. Quirk," said the deputy, "you are a fugitive from justice,and I can legally take you wherever I find you. If you resistarrest, all the worse, as it classes you an outlaw. Now, myadvice is--"But the sentence was never finished, for coming down the dividelike a hurricane was a band of horsemen, who, on sighting us,raised the long yell, and the next minute Dave Sponsilier andseven of his men dashed up. The boys opened out to avoid themomentum of the onslaught, but the deputies sat firm; and asSponsilier and his lads threw their horses back on their haunchesin halting, Dave stood in his stirrups, and waving his hatshouted, "Hurrah for Don Lovell, and to hell with the sheriff anddeputies of Ford County!" Sponsilier and I were great friends, aswere likewise our outfits, and we nearly unhorsed each other inour rough but hearty greetings. When quiet was once morerestored, Dave continued: "I was in Dodge last night, and BobWright put me next that the sheriff was going to take possessionof two of old man Don's herds this morning. You can bet yourmoccasins that the grass didn't grow very much while I wasgetting back to camp. Flood and The Rebel took fifteen men andwent to Quince's support, and I have been scouting since dawntrying to locate you. Yes, the sheriff himself and five deputiespassed up the trail before daybreak to arrest Forrest and takepossession of his herd--I don't think. I suppose these strangersare deputy sheriffs? If it was me, do you know what I'd do withthem?"The query was half a command. It required no order, for in aninstant the deputies were surrounded, and had it not been for thecool judgment of Bob Quirk, violence would have resulted. Theprimitive mind is slow to resent an affront, and while the chiefdeputy had couched his last remarks in well-chosen language, hisintimation that I was a fugitive from justice, and an outlaw inresisting arrest, was tinder to stubble. Knowing the metal of myoutfit, I curbed the tempest within me, and relying on a brotherwhom I would gladly follow to death if need be, I waved hands offto my boys. "Now, men," said Bob to the deputies, "the easiestway out of this matter is the best. No one here has committed anycrime subjecting him to arrest, neither can you take possessionof any cattle belonging to Don Lovell. I'll renew the invitationfor you to go down to the wagon and breakfast, or I'll give youthe best directions at my command to reach Dodge. Instead oftrying to attempt to accomplish your object you had better goback to the chaparral--you're spelled down. Take your choice,men."Bob's words had a soothing effect. He was thirty-three years oldand a natural born leader among rough men. His advice carried thesteely ring of sincerity, and for the first time since themeeting, the deputies wilted. The chief one called his men aside,and after a brief consultation my brother was invited to jointhem, which he did. I afterwards learned that Bob went intodetail in defining our position in the premises, and the posse,once they heard the other side of the question, took an entirelydifferent view of the matter. While the consultation was inprogress, we all dismounted; cigarettes were rolled, and whilethe smoke arose in clouds, we reviewed the interim since weparted in March in old Medina. The sheriff's posse accompanied mybrother to the wagon, and after refreshing themselves, remountedtheir horses. Bob escorted them back across the summit of themesa, and the olive branch waved in peace on the divide.The morning was not far advanced. After a brief consultation, thetwo older foremen urged that we ride to the relief of Forrest. Ahint was sufficient, and including five of my best-mounted men, aposse of twenty of us rode away. We held the divide for somedistance on our course, and before we left it, a dust-cloud,indicating the presence of Bob's herd, was sighted on thesouthern slope, while on the opposite one my cattle werebeginning to move forward. Sponsilier knew the probablewhereabouts of Forrest, and under his lead we swung into a freegallop as we dropped down the northern slope from the mesa. Thepace was carrying us across country at a rate of ten miles anhour, scarcely a word being spoken, as we shook out kink afterkink in our horses or reined them in to recover their wind. Ourobjective point was a slight elevation on the plain, from whichwe expected to sight the trail if not the herds of Flood,Forrest, and The Rebel. On reaching this gentle swell, we reinedin and halted our horses, which were then fuming with healthysweat. Both creek and trail were clearly outlined before us, butwith the heat-waves and mirages beyond, our view was naturallyrestricted. Sponsilier felt confident that Forrest was north ofthe creek and beyond the trail, and again shaking out our horses,we silently put the intervening miles behind us. Our mounts wereall fresh and strong, and in crossing the creek we allowed them afew swallows of water before continuing our ride. We halted againin crossing the trail, but it was so worn by recent use that itafforded no clue to guide us in our quest. But from the nextvantage-point which afforded us a view, a sea of cattle greetedour vision, all of which seemed under herd. Wagon sheets werenext sighted, and finally a horseman loomed up and signaled tous. He proved to be one of Flood's men, and under his directionForrest's camp and cattle were soon located. The lad assured usthat a pow-wow had been in session since daybreak, and we hurriedaway to add our numbers to its council. When we sighted Forrest'swagon among some cottonwoods, a number of men were just mountingto ride away, and before we reached camp, they crossed the creekheading south. A moment later, Forrest walked out, and greetingus, said:"Hello, fellows. Get down and let your horses blow and enjoyyourselves. You're just a minute late to meet some very nicepeople. Yes, we had the sheriff from Dodge and a posse of men forbreakfast. No--no particular trouble, except John Johns, the d--fool, threw the loop of his rope over the neck of the sheriff'shorse, and one of the party offered to unsling a carbine. Butabout a dozen six-shooters clicked within hearing, and he actedon my advice and cut gun-plays out. No trouble at all except abig medicine talk, and a heap of legal phrases that I don't sabevery clear. Turn your horses loose, I tell you, for I'm going tokill a nice fat stray, and towards evening, when the other herdscome up, we'll have a round-up of Don Lovell's outfits. I'll makea little speech, and on account of the bloodless battle thismorning, this stream will be rechristened Sheriff's Creek."