Ralph Compton - Death Rides a Chestnut Mare

“I thought you hated me,” said Danielle mildly.

“I don’t, really,” Carrie said. “I’m just disappointed in you.”

“I’m sorry to have disappointed you,” said Danielle, “but you knew when I first rode in that I was after my pa’s killers. I won’t find them settin’ on my hunkers here.”

“I suppose not,” Carrie said with a sigh. With Danielle being busy, the conversation lagged, and Carrie wandered back to the house.

An hour past noon, the riders drove in the cattle they had gathered.

“More than two hundred head,” said Tuck proudly. “We got to gather the rest, run all the five herds together, and post guards. The rustlers could clean us all out in one night.”

After a hurried dinner, the riders went to finish the gather before dark, if they could. Danielle, having finished repairing the Colts, went with them.

“Most of the varmints are holed up in thickets where there’s shade,” said Tuck. “We’ll have to run them out of there.”

“I’ve never worked cattle,” Danielle said. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, here or on the trail to Abilene.”

“The secret to trail driving,” said Tuck, “is keepin’ the varmints bunched. Keep ’em on the heels of one another, so that every critter has a pair of horns right at her behind. It generally takes a few days—maybe a week—for them to get trail-wise and settle down.”

Danielle rode into the brush with the other riders and was amazed at all the longhorns they flushed out. Some of the riders circled the growing gather, seeing to it that none of the cattle made a break for the thickets. With many riders, the gather proceeded quickly.

“I think we got enough,” said Tuck, an hour before sundown. “Let’s run a tally.”

“I count five hundred and thirty head,” Elmer Dumont said.

“I count five hundred and twenty-seven,” said Cyrus Baldwin.

“Five hundred and thirty-two,” Enos Chadman said.

“I count five hundred and twenty-five,” said Wallace.

“Our herds has got a few more than five hundred,” Elmer Dumont concluded. “We generally accept the lowest tally. Does that suit you, Tuck?”

“Yeah,” said Tuck. “I’m glad to see this many. I was afraid, with all the rustling, we’d have trouble finding five hundred.”

“You got lots of scrub thickets, especially near the spring runoff,” said Wallace Flagg. “I believe we could drag out another five hundred if we had to.”

“Let the others wait until spring,” Tuck said. “It’s important to get our gather on the trail to Abilene as soon as we can.”

The gather was driven to the Carlyle ranch and herded in with more than two thousand of their kind.

“We got twelve men,” said Enos Chadman. “We got to keep watch. I think with the herd bunched right here near the barn, we can get by with six men and two watches.”

“It’s always the men,” Carrie Carlyle said. “I can shoot as well as any man here.”

“No doubt you can, ma’am,” said Chadman, “and I expect you’ll get a chance to prove it before we reach Abilene. Get yourself one last good night’s sleep in a bed.”

The Trail North. August 20, 1870.

The first day on the trail, the cattle were predictably wild, seeking to break away and return to their old grazing meadows and shaded thickets. At her own request, Danielle rode drag. The chestnut mare quickly learned what was expected of her. When a cow quit the bunch, the mare was after her. Danielle had little more to do than just stay in the saddle.

“I reckon we’ve come ten miles,” Enos Chadman said when they had bedded down the herd for the night.

“Lucky to do as well as that with a new herd,” said Cyrus Baldwin.

“Starting tonight,” Carrie said, “we’ll need more than six on each watch. I’m offering to stand either watch.”

“So am I,” Katrina Chadman said.

“We may not need you,” said Tuck. “We have enough men for a first and a second watch. The rest of you can just sleep with your guns handy.”

“No,” Katrina said. “We’ve already decided the women will do the cooking, and I can ride better than I can cook.”

Her response brought a roar of laughter, and the question was finally resolved when it was decided that Carrie would join the first watch, and Katrina the second.

“You ladies ride careful,” said Enos Chadman. “If one of you gets spooked and shoots a cow, you’ll end up washing dishes the rest of the way to Abilene.”

On the first watch was Danielle, Tuck, Katrina, Elmer Dumont and his son, Barney, Chadman’s son, Eric, and Wallace Flagg’s sons, Floyd and Edward. Carrie had hoped to be part of the first watch, and she watched Katrina Chadman with some envy. Katrina was a year older than Carrie, and Carrie wanted to prove herself in front of Danielle.

Supper was over, and it was time for the first watch to mount up. The cattle were restless, being on the trail for the first time, and the riders were kept busy by bunch quitters. Danielle’s task was made simpler by the chestnut mare. The horse seemed to sense when a cow was about to break away, and was there to head her. There was a moon, and it was Danielle’s first opportunity to see Katrina Chadman close up. The girl had long blond hair that she wore in a single braid, and she rode her horse like she was part of it. For a few minutes Tuck rode alongside her, the two of them laughing. Danielle suffered a new emotion. As she watched them, flames of jealousy rose up, threatening to engulf her.

“Damn you, Katrina,” said Danielle under her breath, “you haven’t seen him jaybird naked in the creek.”

The cattle finally settled down, and by the time the second watch came on at midnight, there were no more bunch quitters. Breakfast was an orderly affair, with Anthea Dumont, Teresa Baldwin, Maureen Chadman, Tilda Flagg, and Audrey Carlyle doing the cooking.

“This is the best I been fed in ten years,” said Elmer Dumont. “A man could start to liking these trail drives.”

“A man generally don’t have his women folks along to fix the grub,” said Tuck. “We all know it’s hard times in Texas, and we didn’t dare leave them there.”

“There’s a stronger reason than that,” Maureen Chadman said. “Katrina and me haven’t had a stitch of new clothes since before the war, and we’re practically naked. Surely we’ll get enough for the herd so we don’t go home in rags.”

“We’ll just have to hope we get a good price,” said Enos Chadman uncomfortably.

“Katrina’s cast-iron underpants are startin’ to rust,” Tuck said softly, standing behind Danielle.

“If anybody would know, it would be you,” said Danielle coldly. “You spent the night following her around, instead of watching the herd.”

“So what the hell is it to you?” Tuck demanded. “Sooner or later, she’s got to give in to some hombre . Why not me? You reckon I can’t do her justice?”

“I don’t doubt that you can,” said Danielle. “And neither does she. I just want to get this damn herd to Abilene, so I can get on with my life.”

“You mean to get on with your killing,” Tuck said.

“Well, just what the hell would you have done if your pa had been strung up without cause?”

“I deserved that,” said Tuck. “I’d do the same thing you’re doing.”

Their second day on the trail was little better than the first. “We should reach Red River tomorrow,” Elmer Dumont said. “From there on, every night will be a danger. They can even set up an ambush and pick us off in broad daylight.”

“There’s always the old Indian trick,” said Wallace Flagg. “Stampede the herd, and when we separate to gather them, get us one at a time.”