KC got one good shot at Bud's head then Bud knocked him ass over teakettle and never let him up. When it was over, Bud and I looked at each other and I started laughin'. He looked mad at me for a minute then he came out with a big grin. I was sure that was his first real fight. Far as I was concerned, he was a man now, a man that looked like he'd be sportin' a first-rate shiner.
I put my arm around his shoulder and shoved him toward the bar. "Go get them damned cigars. I'll pick you up on the way out of town. Tell Ken I said to stand you a shot." From the sour look on his face when I stopped the wagon, I guessed he'd had his first drink also.
That Saturday was the next dance. I picked up Roxie in one of Pete's wagons and drove on in to Walden. Bud trailed along beside us, wearing his black eye like a badge of courage. The dance was great but for one thing. I'd left Roxie with two of the other girls and went out to get some fresh air and have a smoke. It did give me a chance to talk to a couple of the other ranchers about how big of a problem it was with the rustlin'. We agreed that we needed some joint action.
When I went back in, I looked around for Roxie. At last, I saw her in the corner of the schoolhouse – dancin' with Colin MacPherson. They were a lot closer together than I liked. I didn't say anything, thinkin' maybe he was just being aggressive with her. Later we danced a couple of numbers before we left.
We were quiet on the way back to her place. Neither of us said anything about Colin. But when I kissed her goodnight I felt like everything was okay. She kissed me in such a way it started a fire that I had a hard time dampin'. I was so distracted by her kisses I didn't remember the trip back to the Circle R.
When I got back, the place was in an uproar. While everyone had been at the dance or with one or the other of the cattle herds, someone had broken a long section of the fence where Pete kept his horse herd. They had choused the horses in all directions. It didn't look like any were stolen but it took a couple of days to round them up. Of course, my first thought was that it was MacPherson with his pushin' ways.
The next few weeks flew by. I was busy ridin' from place to place makin' sure the work was progressin' okay. The herd on the summer range up in Shipman Park was puttin' good weight on which should bring a good price for the cattle at the railroad. Gramps had his wagon ready to go with all the supplies we would need.
Every chance I had I made it over to see Roxie and we were progressin' nicely. I loved her; knew she was the one for me. I was sure she loved me back. She sure seemed to show it! We were able to make it to our picnic spot only a couple of times. But those two times were enough to curl my hair. It was excitin' to know I could look forward to a real lovin' wife. We were talkin' about getting' hitched around the first of September.
After all the plannin' we were able to start the drive. Gramps and Bud took off straight up the valley and I went up to where the herd was waitin'. The cook wagon would setup where we planned the first nights stop. We had to bring the cattle back the same way we took them. We would bring them from the La Guarde Creek, back over Ute Pass and then north, swingin' above the sand hills, after we got to the valley floor.
Bud had showed a flair for workin' with horses so I made him the wrangler for the drive. He drove the remuda while Gramps took the wagon. The chuck wagon was a four wheel, springless wagon with a large 'chuck box' on the back. It had shelves and drawers for the cookin' equipment. Coverin' it was a hinged lid that swung down and with a couple of legs made a large worktable. Gramps had an oversized dishpan he called the 'wreck' pan that was always under the wagon during mealtimes. The poor fool that put his dirty dish on the table instead of in the wreck pan had Gramps to reckon with.
I had a packhorse along with me for the first night on the trail. We would stop for the evening when we got down from the pass and the next night catch up to where the chuck wagon and remuda waited. It was about a hundred miles to the railroad. We would go up around Watson Mountain and through Saratoga, Wyoming on up to the stockyards at Walcott.
We met up with Bud and Gramps about six or seven miles south of Sentinal Mountain. It was a good spot with plenty of water and rich, tall grass. The five men that had stayed up at the summer range were Charlie and Tom Rangel, Carl Abell, Mark Morgan and Kirby Grant. The first three were all in their early twenties and tough and lean. Charlie and Tom were brothers. Mark was around thirty and Kirby was somewhere in his forties; he was a little vague about it. He was a former army scout and knew the area well. I made Mark my segundo.
I was worried the gang that had been doin' the rustlin' might try somethin' so I talked to Kirby about my concerns.
"Wal, if'n they are gonna try somethin' the best spot would be when we cross the river goin' around the west side of Watson Mountain. There's a narrow spot where they could cut down on us and start a stampede. Why don't I sashay around and take a look."
He left an hour before dawn. I held the herd where we were. We weren't in any particular hurry and this was a good spot. We lazed around but I had extra riders on the herd and one man taking turns scoutin' out the area.
Kirby made it back late that afternoon. "Yeah, it's like I figgered. I been thinkin' on it and here's what I suggest. Let's you and I go around the east side of Watson Mountain. We'll go over the pass and come around in back of where they are staked out. They are about a half-mile north of the ford at a spot where the hills pull back from the river. It appears they figger to surprise you when you come around the corner. You and I'll be staked out behind them.
"Tell Mark to hold the herd as they get across the river. As soon as he hears us start shootin' he should get all the men behind the cattle and push them hard. If they stampede that's all the better. We'll have them caught flat footed and in the middle."
We were in place by mid-morning. I could see that the area close to the river where we were was heavily overgrown with willows and skinny cottonwoods. We'd found a good spot about two hundred yards further down river from them and could see where they had their horses bunched and ready to go. We also had a good view of where the cattle would cross the river. We were pretty sure they would have a man on foot around the corner watching who would alert them as soon as the herd was almost completely across.
When their lookout man came back after spottin' the cattle, the rustlers jumped on their mounts and started the ambush. As soon as they cleared the corner, we could see them stop in confusion as they saw the cattle milling at the ford. I put a couple of quick shots right behind their mounts and, at that signal, the riders with the herd started shooting to panic the cattle and get them movin' fast at the mounted rustlers.
One of the rustlers had seen the smoke from my shots and started firin' back. Kirby made a quick shot and knocked him off his horse. I took a couple more shots but by then the herd was runnin' into the bunched ambushers. Several of them tried to turn and run and Kirby and I killed one apiece and I winged another.
When it was over, three of them had gotten away including the one I winged. We had shot three and the herd got one of them. Carl was our only casualty with a crease from a bullet across the top of his thigh. It was not serious but the way he looked, I knew it was painful. The cattle were still running but the men were heading them in the right direction. They had no trouble keeping the herd pointed north since they were hemmed in by the river and the hills. I'd told Mark to just let them run it off. I didn't think we'd see the rustlers again this trip.
The man that was trampled by the cattle was KC. I was sure that one of the men that got away was Klein. Bud thought the one I'd winged was Packrat. I'd have to look them up when I got back from the drive.
We did lose a half-dozen head with broken limbs and had to shoot them. Gramps, with Bud's
volunteer
help, butchered one of them to feed the crew. We camped that night along the river. Mark, Kirby and I talked it over and decided to keep the cattle there for a couple of days to settle them down and put some tallow back on. I doubled the riders on the night herd, and put them on two-hour shifts. As keyed up as I was I couldn't sleep so I stayed up late to make sure there was no trouble. It was satisfyin' to hear the cowboys serenadin' the cows all through the night. I put Kirby out about a half-mile in the direction where the survivors had fled but nothin' came of it.
The rest of the trip was quiet. There was lots of nothin' but borin' hard work, which was just what I liked. We got to Walcott in good shape and got a better price for the herd than Pete had expected. There wasn't much to do in Walcott. There were a couple of saloons so I gave the men an extra ten bucks apiece as a bonus and the fight with the rustlers. Two days later I sent them home with the horses and their headaches.
