The Double Trail
Early in the summer of '78 we were rocking along with a herd of LaurelLeaf cattle, going up the old Chisholm trail in the Indian Territory.The cattle were in charge of Ike Inks as foreman, and had been soldfor delivery somewhere in the Strip.There were thirty-one hundred head, straight "twos," and in the singleranch brand. We had been out about four months on the trail, and allfelt that a few weeks at the farthest would let us out, for the daybefore we had crossed the Cimarron River, ninety miles south of thestate line of Kansas.The foreman was simply killing time, waiting for orders concerning thedelivery of the cattle. All kinds of jokes were in order, for we allfelt that we would soon be set free. One of our men had been takensick, as we crossed Red River into the Nations, and not wanting tocross this Indian country short-handed, Inks had picked up a youngfellow who evidently had never been over the trail before.He gave the outfit his correct name, on joining us, but it provedunpronounceable, and for convenience some one rechristened him Lucy,as he had quite a feminine appearance. He was anxious to learn, andwas in evidence in everything that went on.The trail from the Cimarron to Little Turkey Creek, where we were nowcamped, had originally been to the east of the present one, skirtinga black-jack country. After being used several years it had beenabandoned, being sandy, and the new route followed up the bottomsof Big Turkey, since it was firmer soil, affording better footing tocattle. These two trails came together again at Little Turkey. At noplace were they over two or three miles apart, and from where theyseparated to where they came together again was about seven miles.It troubled Lucy not to know why this was thus. Why did these routesseparate and come together again? He was fruitful with inquiries as towhere this trail or that road led. The boss-man had a vein of humor inhis make-up, though it was not visible; so he told the young man thathe did not know, as he had been over this route but once before, buthe thought that Stubb, who was then on herd, could tell him how itwas; he had been over the trail every year since it was laid out.This was sufficient to secure Stubb an interview, as soon as he wasrelieved from duty and had returned to the wagon. So Ike posted one ofthe men who was next on guard to tell Stubb what to expect, and to besure to tell it to him scary.A brief description of Stubb necessarily intrudes, though thisnickname describes the man. Extremely short in stature, he wasinclined to be fleshy. In fact, a rear view of Stubb looked as thoughsome one had hollowed out a place to set his head between his ampleshoulders. But a front view revealed a face like a full moon. Indisposition he was very amiable. His laugh was enough to drive awaythe worst case of the blues. It bubbled up from some inward source andseemed perennial. His worst fault was his bar-room astronomy. If therewas any one thing that he shone in, it was rustling coffin varnishduring the early prohibition days along the Kansas border. Hispatronage was limited only by his income, coupled with what credit heenjoyed.Once, about midnight, he tried to arouse a drug clerk who slept in thestore, and as he had worked this racket before, he coppered the playto repeat. So he tapped gently on the window at the rear where theclerk slept, calling him by name. This he repeated any number oftimes. Finally, he threatened to have a fit; even this did not workto his advantage. Then he pretended to be very angry, but there wasno response. After fifteen minutes had been fruitlessly spent, he wentback to the window, tapped on it once more, saying, "Lon, lie still,you little son-of-a-sheep-thief," which may not be what he said, andwalked away. A party who had forgotten his name was once inquiringfor him, describing him thus, "He's a little short, fat fellow, sitsaround the Maverick Hotel, talks cattle talk, and punishes a power ofwhiskey."So before Stubb had even time to unsaddle his horse, he was approachedto know the history of these two trails."Well," said Stubb somewhat hesitatingly, "I never like to refer toit. You see, I killed a man the day that right-hand trail was made:I'll tell you about it some other time.""But why not now?" said Lucy, his curiosity aroused, as keen as awoman's."Some other day," said Stubb. "But did you notice those three graveson the last ridge of sand-hills to the right as we came out of theCimarron bottoms yesterday? You did? Their tenants were killed overthat trail; you see now why I hate to refer to it, don't you? I wasafraid to go back to Texas for three years afterward.""But why not tell me?" said the young man."Oh," said Stubb, as he knelt down to put a hobble on his horse, "itwould injure my reputation as a peaceable citizen, and I don't mindtelling you that I expect to marry soon."Having worked up the proper interest in his listener, besides exactinga promise that he would not repeat the story where it might doinjury to him, he dragged his saddle up to the camp-fire. Making acomfortable seat with it, he riveted his gaze on the fire, and with asplendid sang-froid reluctantly told the history of the double trail."You see," began Stubb, "the Chisholm route had been used more or lessfor ten years. This right-hand trail was made in '73. I bossed thatyear from Van Zandt County, for old Andy Erath, who, by the way, was adead square cowman with not a hide-bound idea in his make-up. Son, itwas a pleasure to know old Andy. You can tell he was a good man, forif he ever got a drink too much, though he would never mention herotherwise, he always praised his wife. I've been with him up beyondthe Yellowstone, two thousand miles from home, and you always knewwhen the old man was primed. He would praise his wife, and would callon us boys to confirm the fact that Mary, his wife, was a good woman."That year we had the better of twenty-nine hundred head, all steercattle, threes and up, a likely bunch, better than these we areshadowing now. You see, my people are not driving this year, which isthe reason that I am making a common hand with Inks. If I was to layoff a season, or go to the seacoast, I might forget the way. In thosedays I always hired my own men. The year that this right-hand trailwas made, I had an outfit of men who would rather fight than eat; infact, I selected them on account of their special fitness in the useof firearms. Why, Inks here couldn't have cooked for my outfitthat season, let alone rode. There was no particular incident worthmentioning till we struck Red River, where we overtook five or sixherds that were laying over on account of a freshet in the river. Iwouldn't have a man those days who was not as good in the water asout. When I rode up to the river, one or two of my men were with me.It looked red and muddy and rolled just a trifle, but I ordered oneof the boys to hit it on his horse, to see what it was like. Well, henever wet the seat of his saddle going or coming, though his horse wasin swimming water good sixty yards. All the other bosses rode up, andeach one examined his peg to see if the rise was falling. One fellownamed Bob Brown, boss-man for John Blocker, asked me what I thoughtabout the crossing. I said to him, 'If this ferryman can cross ourwagon for me, and you fellows will open out a little and let me in,I'll show you all a crossing, and it'll be no miracle either.'"Well, the ferryman said he'd set the wagon over, so the men went backto bring up the herd. They were delayed some little time, changing totheir swimming horses. It was nearly an hour before the herd came up,the others opening out, so as to give us a clear field, in case of amill or balk. I never had to give an order; my boys knew just whatto do. Why, there's men in this outfit right now that couldn't havegreased my wagon that year."Well, the men on the points brought the herd to the water with a goodhead on, and before the leaders knew it, they were halfway acrossthe channel, swimming like fish. The swing-men fed them in, free andplenty. Most of my outfit took to the water, and kept the cattlefrom drifting downstream. The boys from the other herds--good men,too--kept shooting them into the water, and inside fifteen minutes'time we were in the big Injun Territory. After crossing the saddlestock and the wagon, I swam my horse back to the Texas side. I wantedto eat dinner with Blocker's man, just to see how they fed. Might wantto work for him some time, you see. I pretended that I'd help him overif he wanted to cross, but he said his dogies could never breast thatwater. I remarked to him at dinner, 'You're feeding a mite better thisyear, ain't you?' 'Not that I can notice,' he replied, as the cookhanded him a tin plate heaping with navy beans, 'and I'm eating ratherregular with the wagon, too.' I killed time around for a while, andthen we rode down to the river together. The cattle had tramped outhis peg, so after setting a new one, and pow-wowing around, I told himgood-by and said to him, 'Bob, old man, when I hit Dodge, I'll take adrink and think of you back here on the trail, and regret that you arenot with me, so as to make it two-handed.' We said our 'so-longs' toeach other, and I gave the gray his head and he took the water like aduck. He could outswim any horse I ever saw, but I drowned him inthe Washita two weeks later. Yes, tangled his feet in some vines ina sunken treetop, and the poor fellow's light went out. My own candlecame near being snuffed. I never felt so bad over a little thing sinceI burned my new red topboots when I was a kid, as in drownding thathorse."There was nothing else worth mentioning until we struck the Cimarronback here, where we overtook a herd of Chisholm's that had come infrom the east. They had crossed through the Arbuckle Mountains--camein over the old Whiskey Trail. Here was another herd waterbound, andthe boss-man was as important as a hen with one chicken. He told methat the river wouldn't be fordable for a week; wanted me to fall backat least five miles; wanted all this river bottom for his cattle; saidhe didn't need any help to cross his herd, though he thanked me forthe offer with an air of contempt. I informed him that our cattlewere sold for delivery on the North Platte, and that we wanted to gothrough on time. I assured him if he would drop his cattle a mile downthe river, it would give us plenty of room. I told him plainly thatour cattle, horses, and men could all swim, and that we never let alittle thing like swimming water stop us."No! No! he couldn't do that; we might as well fall back and take ourturn. 'Oh, well,' said I, 'if you want to act contrary about it, I'llgo up to the King-Fisher crossing, only three miles above here. I'vealmost got time to cross yet this evening.'"Then he wilted and inquired, 'Do you think I can cross if it swimsthem any?'"'I'm not doing your thinking, sir,' I answered, 'but I'll bringup eight or nine good men and help you rather than make a six-mileelbow.' I said this with some spirit and gave him a mean look."'All right,' said he, 'bring up your boys, say eight o'clock, and wewill try the ford. Let me add right here,' he continued, 'and I'm astranger to you, young man, but my outfit don't take anybody's slack,and as I am older than you, let me give you this little bit of advice:when you bring your men here in the morning, don't let them whirltoo big a loop, or drag their ropes looking for trouble, for I've gotfellows with me that don't turn out of the trail for anybody.'"'All right, sir,' I said. 'Really, I'm glad to hear that you havesome good men, still I'm pained to find them on the wrong side of theriver for travelers. But I'll be here in the morning,' I called backas I rode away. So telling my boys that we were likely to havesome fun in the morning, and what to expect, I gave it no furtherattention. When we were catching up our horses next morning for theday, I ordered two of my lads on herd, which was a surprise to them,as they were both handy with a gun. I explained it to them all,--thatwe wished to avoid trouble, but if it came up unavoidable, to overlookno bets--to copper every play as it fell."We got to the river too early to suit Chisholm's boss-man. Heseemed to think that his cattle would take the water better about teno'clock. To kill time my boys rode across and back several times tosee what the water was like. 'Well, any one that would let as littleswimming water as that stop them must be a heap sight sorry outfit,'remarked one-eyed Jim Reed, as he rode out of the river, dismountingto set his saddle forward and tighten his cinches, not noticing thatthis foreman heard him. I rode around and gave him a look, and helooked up at me and muttered, 'Scuse me, boss, I plumb forgot!' Then Irode back and apologized to this boss-man: 'Don't pay any attentionto my boys; they are just showing off, and are a trifle windy thismorning.'"'That's all right,' he retorted, 'but don't forget what I told youyesterday, and let it be enough said.'"'Well, let's put the cattle in,' I urged, seeing that he was gettinghot under the collar. 'We're burning daylight, pardner.'"'Well, I'm going to cross my wagon first,' said he."'That's a good idea,' I answered. 'Bring her up.' Their cook seemedto have a little sense, for he brought up his wagon in good shape. Wetied some guy ropes to the upper side, and taking long ropes from theend of the tongue to the pommels of our saddles, the ease with whichwe set that commissary over didn't trouble any one but the boss-man,whose orders were not very distinct from the distance between banks.It was a good hour then before he would bring up his cattle. The maintrouble seemed to be to devise means to keep their guns and cartridgesdry, as though that was more important than getting the whole herdof nearly thirty-five hundred cattle over. We gave them a clean clothuntil they needed us, but as they came up we divided out and wereready to give the lead a good push. If a cow changed his mind abouttaking a swim that morning, he changed it right back and took it.For in less than twenty minutes' time they were all over, much to thesurprise of the boss and his men; besides, their weapons were quitedry; just the splash had wet them."I told the boss that we would not need any help to cross ours, butto keep well out of our way, as we would try and cross by noon, whichought to give him a good five-mile start. Well, we crossed and nooned,lying around on purpose to give them a good lead, and when we hit thetrail back in these sand-hills, there he was, not a mile ahead, andyou can see there was no chance to get around. I intended to takethe Dodge trail, from this creek where we are now, but there we were,blocked in! I was getting a trifle wolfish over the way they wereacting, so I rode forward to see what the trouble was."'Oh, I'm in no hurry. You're driving too fast. This is your firsttrip, isn't it?' he inquired, as he felt of a pair of checked pantsdrying on the wagon wheel."'Don't you let any idea like that disturb your Christian spirit, oldman,' I replied with some resentment. 'But if you think I am drivingtoo fast, you might suggest some creek where I could delude myselfwith the idea, for a week or so, that it was not fordable.'"Assuming an air of superiority he observed, 'You seem to have forgotwhat I said to you yesterday.'"'No, I haven't,' I answered, 'but are you going to stay all nighthere?'"'I certainly am, if that's any satisfaction to you,' he answered."I got off my horse and asked him for a match, though I had plentyin my pocket, to light a cigarette which I had rolled during theconversation. I had no gun on, having left mine in our wagon, butfancied I'd stir him up and see how bad he really was. I thought itbest to stroke him with and against the fur, try and keep on neutralground, so I said,--"'You ain't figuring none that in case of a run to-night we're atrifle close together for cow-herds. Besides, my men on a guard lastnight heard gray wolves in these sand-hills. They are liable to showup to-night. Didn't I notice some young calves among your cattlethis morning? Young calves, you know, make larruping fine eating forgrays.'"'Now, look here, Shorty,' he said in a patronizing tone, as though hemight let a little of his superior cow-sense shine in on my darkenedintellect, 'I haven't asked you to crowd up here on me. You areperfectly at liberty to drop back to your heart's content. If wolvesbother us to-night, you stay in your blankets snug and warm, andpleasant dreams of old sweethearts on the Trinity to you. We won'tneed you. We'll try and worry along without you.'"Two or three of his men laughed gruffly at these remarks, and threwleer-eyed looks at me. I asked one who seemed bad, what calibre hisgun was. 'Forty-five ha'r trigger,' he answered. I nosed around overtheir plunder purpose. They had things drying around like Bannocksquaws jerking venison."When I got on my horse, I said to the boss, 'I want to pass youroutfit in the morning, as you are in no hurry and I am.'"'That will depend,' said he."'Depend on what?' I asked."'Depend on whether we are willing to let you,' he snarled."I gave him as mean a look as I could command and said tauntingly,'Now, look here, old girl: there's no occasion for you to tear yourclothes with me this way. Besides, I sometimes get on the prod myself,and when I do, I don't bar no man, Jew nor Gentile, horse, mare orgelding. You may think different, but I'm not afraid of any man inyour outfit, from the gimlet to the big auger. I've tried to treatyou white, but I see I've failed. Now I want to give it out to youstraight and cold, that I'll pass you to-morrow, or mix two herdstrying. Think it over to-night and nominate your choice--be agentleman or a hog. Let your own sweet will determine which.'"I rode away in a walk, to give them a chance to say anything theywanted to, but there were no further remarks. My men were all hoppingmad when I told them, but I promised them that to-morrow we wouldfix them plenty or use up our supply of cartridges if necessary. Wedropped back a mile off the trail and camped for the night. Early thenext morning I sent one of my boys out on the highest sand dune toInjun around and see what they were doing. After being gone foran hour he came back and said they had thrown their cattle off thebed-ground up the trail, and were pottering around like as they aimedto move. Breakfast over, I sent him back again to make sure, for Iwanted yet to avoid trouble if they didn't draw it on. It was anotherhour before he gave us the signal to come on. We were nicely strungout where you saw those graves on that last ridge of sand-hills, whenthere they were about a mile ahead of us, moseying along. This side ofChapman's, the Indian trader's store, the old route turns to the rightand follows up this black-jack ridge. We kept up close, and justas soon as they turned in to the right,--the only trail there wasthen,--we threw off the course and came straight ahead, cross-countrystyle, same route we came over to-day, except there was no trailthere; we had to make a new one."Now they watched us a plenty, but it seemed they couldn't make outour game. When we pulled up even with them, half a mile apart, theytumbled that my bluff of the day before was due to take effect withoutfurther notice. Then they began to circle and ride around, and onefellow went back, only hitting the high places, to their wagon andsaddle horses, and they were brought up on a trot. We were by thistime three quarters of a mile apart, when the boss of their outfit wasnoticed riding out toward us. Calling one of my men, we rode out andmet him halfway. 'Young man, do you know just what you are trying todo?' he asked."'I think I do. You and myself as cowmen don't pace in the same class,as you will see, if you will only watch the smoke of our tepee. Watchus close, and I'll pass you between here and the next water.'"'We will see you in hell first!' he said, as he whirled his horse andgalloped back to his men. The race was on in a brisk walk. His wagon,we noticed, cut in between the herds, until it reached the lead of hiscattle, when it halted suddenly, and we noticed that they were cuttingoff a dry cowskin that swung under the wagon. At the same time two ofhis men cut out a wild steer, and as he ran near their wagon one ofthem roped and the other heeled him. It was neatly done. I called BigDick, my boss roper, and told him what I suspected,--that they weregoing to try and stampede us with a dry cowskin tied to that steer'stail they had down. As they let him up, it was clear I had calledthe turn, as they headed him for our herd, the flint thumping at hisheels. Dick rode out in a lope, and I signaled for my crowd to come onand we would back Dick's play. As we rode out together, I said to myboys, 'The stuff's off, fellows! Shoot, and shoot to hurt!'"It seemed their whole outfit was driving that one steer, and turningthe others loose to graze. Dick never changed the course of thatsteer, but let him head for ours, and as they met and passed, heturned his horse and rode onto him as though he was a post driven inthe ground. Whirling a loop big enough to take in a yoke of oxen, hedropped it over his off fore shoulder, took up his slack rope, andwhen that steer went to the end of the rope, he was thrown in the airand came down on his head with a broken neck. Dick shook the rope offthe dead steer's forelegs without dismounting, and was just beginningto coil his rope when those varmints made a dash at him, shooting andyelling."That called for a counter play on our part, except our aim was low,for if we didn't get a man, we were sure to leave one afoot. Just fora minute the air was full of smoke. Two horses on our side went downbefore you could say 'Jack Robinson,' but the men were unhurt, andsoon flattened themselves on the ground Indian fashion, and burnt thegrass in a half-circle in front of them. When everybody had emptiedhis gun, each outfit broke back to its wagon to reload. Two of my mencame back afoot, each claiming that he had got his man all right,all right. We were no men shy, which was lucky. Filling our guns withcartridges out of our belts, we rode out to reconnoitre and try andget the boys' saddles."The first swell of the ground showed us the field. There were thedead steer, and five or six horses scattered around likewise, but thegrass was too high to show the men that we felt were there. As theopposition was keeping close to their wagon, we rode up to the sceneof carnage. While some of the boys were getting the saddles off thedead horses, we found three men taking their last nap in the grass. Irecognized them as the boss-man, the fellow with the ha'r-trigger gun,and a fool kid that had two guns on him when we were crossing theircattle the day before. One gun wasn't plenty to do the fighting he washankering for; he had about as much use for two guns as a toad has fora stinger."The boys got the saddles off the dead horses, and went flying back toour men afoot, and then rejoined us. The fight seemed over, or therewas some hitch in the programme, for we could see them hoveringnear their wagon, tearing up white biled shirts out of a trunk andbandaging up arms and legs, that they hadn't figured on any. Our herdhad been overlooked during the scrimmage, and had scattered so thatI had to send one man and the horse wrangler to round them in. We hadten men left, and it was beginning to look as though hostilities hadceased by mutual consent. You can see, son, we didn't bring it on. Weturned over the dead steer, and he proved to be a stray; at least hehadn't their road brand on. One-eyed Jim said the ranch brand belongedin San Saba County; he knew it well, the X--2. Well, it wasn't longuntil our men afoot got a remount and only two horses shy on the firstround. We could stand another on the same terms in case they attackedus. We rode out on a little hill about a quarter-mile from theirwagon, scattering out so as not to give them a pot shot, in case theywanted to renew the unpleasantness."When they saw us there, one fellow started toward us, waving hishandkerchief. We began speculating which one it was, but soon made himout to be the cook; his occupation kept him out of the first round.When he came within a hundred yards, I rode out and met him. Heoffered me his hand and said, 'We are in a bad fix. Two of our crowdhave bad flesh wounds. Do you suppose we could get any whiskey back atthis Indian trader's store?'"'If there is any man in this territory can get any I can if theyhave it,' I told him. 'Besides, if your lay-out has had all thesatisfaction fighting they want, we'll turn to and give you a lift. Itseems like you all have some dead men over back here. They willhave to be planted. So if your outfit feel as though you had yourbelly-full of fighting for the present, consider us at your service.You're the cook, ain't you?'"'Yes, sir,' he answered. 'Are all three dead?' he then inquired."'Dead as heck,' I told him."'Well, we are certainly in a bad box,' said he meditatingly. 'Butwon't you all ride over to our wagon with me? I think our fellows arepacified for the present.'"I motioned to our crowd, and we all rode over to their wagon withhim. There wasn't a gun in sight. The ragged edge of despair don'tdescribe them. I made them a little talk; told them that their bosshad cashed in, back over the hill; also if there was any segundo intheir outfit, the position of big augur was open to him, and we wereat his service."There wasn't a man among them that had any sense left but the cook.He told me to take charge of the killed, and if I could rustle alittle whiskey to do so. So I told the cook to empty out his wagon,and we would take the dead ones back, make boxes for them, and burythem at the store. Then I sent three of my men back to the store tohave the boxes ready and dig the graves. Before these three rode away,I said, aside to Jim, who was one of them, 'Don't bother about anywhiskey; branch water is plenty nourishing for the wounded. It wouldbe a sin and shame to waste good liquor on plafry like them.'"The balance of us went over to the field of carnage and stripped thesaddles off their dead horses, and arranged the departed in a row,covering them with saddle blankets, pending the planting act. I sentpart of my boys with our wagon to look after our own cattle for theday. It took us all the afternoon to clean up a minute's work in themorning."I never like to refer to it. Fact was, all the boys felt gloomy forweeks, but there was no avoiding it. Two months later, we met old manAndy, way up at Fort Laramie on the North Platte. He was tickled todeath to meet us all. The herd had come through in fine condition. Wenever told him anything about this until the cattle were delivered,and we were celebrating the success of that drive at a near-by town."Big Dick told him about this incident, and the old man feeling hisoats, as he leaned with his back against the bar, said to us with anoticeable degree of pride, 'Lads, I'm proud of every one of you. Menwho will fight to protect my interests has my purse at their command.This year's drive has been a success. Next year we will drive twiceas many. I want every rascal of you to work for me. You all know how Imount, feed, and pay my men, and as long as my name is Erath and I owna cow, you can count on a job with me.'""But why did you take them back to the sand-hills to bury them?" cutin Lucy."Oh, that was Big Dick's idea. He thought the sand would dig easier,and laziness guided every act of his life. That was five years ago,son, that this lower trail was made, and for the reasons I havejust given you. No, I can't tell you any more personal experiencesto-night; I'm too sleepy."
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