The Bozeman Trail

Chapter Eleven

With the Golden Calf Cattle Company, mile 450,

Saturday, July 19, 1862:

The herd crossed into Indian Territory going as far as the Canadian River without encountering any difficulty with the Indians. They saw them often enough, but they were never in groups of more than three or four and they gave no sign of hostility.

But when they made camp on the Canadian, Luke and John sneaked out after everyone else was in bed. The next morning the two Scattergood brothers were brought into camp, in irons, escorted by Indian Police who had arrested them for attempting to sell whiskey.

After some negotiation, the Indians agreed to accept ten cows as payment for the fine.

“Bob, Billy, cut ten Scattergood cows out of the herd,” James ordered.

“Wait a minute,” Matthew protested. “You can’t do that! If you’re goin’ to pay these heathen ten cows, it’s got to come out of everyone’s herd equal.”

“Everyone didn’t try and sell whiskey to the Indians,” James said.

“All right, even so, it was Luke and John that done it, not me ’n Mark. You got no right makin’ us pay for what they done.”

“You are all in this together,” James insisted.

“Well, I don’t intend to just stand by an’ let you take ten of our cows.”

“Oh, I think you will,” Duke said easily.

“What have you got to do with this conversation?” Matthew challenged.

“Like James said, we’re all in this together. Now, I didn’t try and sell any whiskey to the Indians, so if we’re goin’ to have to pay them off, we aren’t paying them with any of my cows. I’m pretty sure Billy and Bob feel the same way. That leaves your cows.”

Though Duke was speaking quietly, his challenge was open and direct. And in some strange way, the fact that it was soft-spoken, made it all the more frightening.

“Yeah, well, it don’t seem in no way right to me,” Matthew said, but his tone of voice indicated that he wouldn’t carry his protest any further.

To the surprise of James and his friends, the Scattergoods generally held up their end of the bargain, each of them working as hard as any of those in James’s original party. What wasn’t a surprise to them was the fact that Revelation was working the hardest of all.

When the drovers were finished with their supper, they would sit around the campfire, smoking their pipes, telling stories, and stretching weary muscles. While they were relaxing in such a way, Revelation, who had already put in a full day’s work, would be cleaning up from supper. Later, when the men would crawl wearily into bedrolls, reeking with their own musk, Revelation would still be up, making preparations for the next day’s meals.

Then, when the drovers awakened the next morning, the air would be permeated with the rich smell of coffee brewing, bacon frying, and biscuits baking. That was because Revelation, who didn’t go to bed until about an hour after the last drover had drifted off to sleep, also rose an hour before anyone else. And finally, even before the herd began to move, Revelation would have the wagon loaded, the team harnessed and the wheels rolling as she forged on ahead, looking for the next campsite.

The hardest part of the drive was to get the cows moving each morning. The campsites were picked where there was plenty of grass and water. In addition, there would be an occasional tree or an overhanging bluff to provide some respite from the sun, so the cows were reluctant to leave. Every morning they showed all intentions of staying right where they were.

Sometimes the drovers would have to shout, probe the animals with sticks, and swing their ropes to get the herd underway. Eventually their efforts would pay off, and the herd would begin to move. Then, once the herd was underway, it would change from three thousand-plus individual creatures into a single entity with a single purpose. The inertia they needed to overcome to get the herd moving in the first place, now worked in their favor as the cows would plod along all day long at a steady clip, showing no inclination to stop.

There was a distinctive smell to a herd this size. The smells came from sun on the hides, dust in the air, and especially from the animals’ droppings and urine. The odor was pungent and perhaps, to many, unpleasant. To James, however, it was an aroma as familiar and agreeable as the smell of flour and cinnamon on his mother’s apron.

It had been a long, hard journey so far, and they had even farther to go. But as far as James was concerned, there was no place in the world he would rather be than right here, right now.

Revelation Scattergood’s cooking skills had been a pleasant surprise. Though she dressed, rode, and worked as hard as any man, she showed a woman’s touch in the kitchen. Often she would surprise the men, who were used to trail grub, with something a little special.

Tonight it was apple pie, and as she served everyone supper, James noticed that she had given him an extra-large piece of pie.

“No, this is too large,” he said, holding his tin plate back toward her. “I don’t want to cheat the other men.”

“You aren’t cheating them,” Revelation said. “I’m giving you my piece.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Maybe it’s because I like the way you stood up to my brothers,” Revelation said. She smiled. “Or, maybe it’s because I like you,” she added.

“Well, I, uh, I appreciate it,” James said, not knowing what else to say.

Over the next several days, it became obvious, even to the others, that Revelation had her sights set on making James Cason her man. James tried to ignore it as much as he could, but Bob, Billy, and Duke wouldn’t allow it. They found every opportunity to tease him.

“Bob, you got a suit and tie?” Billy Swan asked one day, when the four of them were together.

“Yes, I have a suit and tie.”

“What about you, Duke? You got one?”

Duke shook his head. “I’ve never owned one,” he said. “What would I need one for?”

“Why, for the wedding,” Billy answered.

“What wedding?”

“The wedding between James and Revelation,” Billy said. “Way things are looking, they’ll be getting married soon as we get back to Texas, and I reckon we’ll be wanting to go.”

“Ha!” Bob said. “The way things are going, they’ll be getting married before we get back to Texas. Probably in the next little town we come to.”

“Well, in that case, I won’t be needing a suit after all, will I?” Duke asked. “All I’ll need is a pair of clean denim trousers and maybe a new shirt.”

Everyone but James laughed.

“That’s about enough of all that,” James said.

“You may as well face it, James. That girl is in love with you.”

“All I can say is, you boys have a very active imagination,” James said. “She’s just being nice, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh. You just keep telling yourself that,” Billy said. “That’s how it works, you know. Women are a lot smarter than men when it comes to things like that. A woman will set her cap for a man and the next thing you know, she’s got him throwed, hog-tied, and branded before he knows what hit him.”

Snorting in disgust, James rode away from the others as their laughter followed him.

Mile 645, Thursday, July 31, 1862:

They reached the Arkansas River after seven weeks on the trail. The lead animals bawled and refused the ford at first, but the drovers forced them in. Then, once the herd was started across the water it again became one entity, with all the trailing cows following without protest.

With his leg hooked across the pommel of his saddle, James sat astride his horse on the south bank and watched as the stream of animals moved down into the water. Their hooves made clacking sounds on the rocky bank of the river, and their longhorns rattled as they came in contact with each other.

He could see the ribs on each cow as it plunged into the water, and he was struck with how lean they were. It wasn’t so much that they weren’t getting enough to eat, as it was that they were trail-lean. They had literally walked all the pounds off of them. At this rate they would reach Dakota with nothing but tough and stringy animals. He wasn’t sure how much they would be able to charge for such animals, or even if anyone would be interested in buying them.

Once the entire herd was across, he called everyone together.

“We’ve probably walked off half the tallow over the last seven weeks. Because of that, I think we should stay here for a few days to recruit our animals,” James said. “We’ve plenty of water and grass, and I have a feeling the hardest part of the drive is before us.”

Although James was the trail boss, he wanted, when possible, to do things by consensus. Thus it was that he gave everyone an equal opportunity to speak. To his relief, everyone, even the Scattergoods, agreed with him.

The Texans’ cow camp was less than three miles from Fort Larned, Kansas. Leaving Bob, Billy, Matthew, and Mark to watch over the herd, James, Duke, Luke, and John rode to the fort. There was a small settlement just outside the fort itself. The town appeared to consist almost entirely of saloons, brothels, and gaming houses, primarily as a means of relieving the soldiers of their monthly pay.

“Well now, lookie here,” Luke said, smiling broadly as he looked up at several of the prostitutes who were leaning over the railing of an upstairs balcony. “I do believe I’m going to enjoy this place.”

“Stay out of trouble,” James cautioned.

“I ain’t lookin’ for trouble,” Luke said. “I’m just lookin’ for a little fun.”

Luke and John stopped in front of one of the saloons. James rode on for a few more yards before he realized they were no longer riding with him. He stopped and looked back toward them as they were tying their horses to the hitch rail. It was obvious that they were eager to get inside.

“Maybe you’d better stay with them, Duke,” James said. “Keep them out of trouble, if you can.”

“You don’t need me with you?”

“No, I’m just going to see what kind of information I can get from the post commander about the trail ahead. As soon as I talk to him, I’ll join you.”

“All right, I’ll watch them for you.” He smiled. “Besides, a beer would taste awfully good right now,” Duke said.

James left the three men in front of one of the saloons, then he rode up to Fort Larned.¹ When he reached the front gate, a guard stepped in front of him, bringing his rifle to port arms.

“State your name and your business, mister,” the guard said.

“My name is James Cason. I’m a cattleman, here to see the commanding officer.”

The guard called the sergeant of the guard, who came to give James the once-over. Finally the sergeant nodded. “All right, tie your horse over there,” he said, pointing to a hitching rail, “then come with me.”

The post was garrisoned by Company H of the Twelfth Kansas Volunteer Infantry. The commanding officer, who was a lawyer in civilian life, was Captain Lawrence Appleby.

“You say you are a cattleman?” Appleby asked, when James was brought to him.

“Yes. I’m driving a herd north, from Texas to Dakota.”

Appleby looked up sharply, when he heard the word Texas.

“From Texas, you say?”

“That’s right. My folks own a ranch in Bexar County, near San Antonio.”

Appleby stroked his chin as he studied James. “Technically—Mr. Cason, is it?—that makes you an enemy.”

“I don’t know how that could be. I haven’t taken up arms against the United States.”

“But you are a Texan, and Texas is one of the states in rebellion.”

“The government of the state of Texas may be in rebellion, but I am not,” James said. “If I were, I would have joined the army of the Confederacy.”

“Then, perhaps you would like to join the Union army?”

“No, I wouldn’t. The reason I’m here now is because I want no part of this war.”

“A lot of people want no part of this war,” Appleby said. “But there is such a thing as duty to one’s country, and the honor of service.”

“I don’t believe it is my duty to kill my own kin,” James said. “And I’m sure there’s no honor in that.”

“Honest men can disagree on some things, Mr. Cason. But I see little room for disagreement over service to one’s country. You see, I joined the Kansas Volunteers because I did want to be a part of this war. Great and historical battles are being fought back East at places like Pittsburg Landing, Fredericksburg, Seven Pines, Gaines Mill.”

Appleby sighed.

“And where am I during this glorious crusade? I am cooling my heels at a post so far removed from the war that I may as well be in England. And the men they have given me? They are the dregs of society, misfits every one of them. Would you believe that the desertion rate here is as high as it is in a unit that is involved in battle?”

“Why is that?”

“In a word, Mr. Cason, gold,” Captain Appleby said. “In case you haven’t heard, gold has been discovered in Dakota, and a number of my soldiers have left in search of their fortune. In fact, I believe some of them volunteered for duty here just so they would be closer to the gold find in Dakota. But, from all accounts, the scalps of many of these deserters now decorate Indian lodges between here and Dakota.”

“That brings me to the point of my visit with you, Captain,” James said. “I plan to take a new trail, called the Bozeman Trail, into Dakota. What do you know of that trail, and of the Indians there?”

“As it so happens, Mr. Cason, Fort Larned is the location of the agency for the Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians. Therefore we get many reports from this so-called Bozeman Trail. And I can tell you this. The establishment of that trail has violated every accord we ever had with the Indians. It goes right through their territory and they are not happy about it. Many a traveler has been attacked while taking that trail to the gold fields of Dakota,” Captain Appleby said. “I strongly advise you not to go that way. In fact, my advice to you would be not to go any farther at all.”

“Are you suggesting that I turn around and take my herd back to Texas?” James asked.

“I’m suggesting that you turn around, yes. But you needn’t take your herd back to Texas. You could sell your cows to the army. I’m sure my quartermaster will pay you a fair amount. Not in cash, of course, but with a voucher that will be redeemable from the government in Washington.”

“What does your quartermaster consider a fair amount?”

“Twenty dollars a head.”

“That’s less than half of what I can get for them in Dakota. Thank you, but no, I think we will go on.”

“You can only get that much money for your cows in Dakota if you make it to Dakota,” Captain Appleby said, pointedly.

“We will make it,” James said. “All we need is a little help.”

“Help? Mr. Cason, you aren’t asking for a military escort, are you?”

“Actually, all I was going to ask for was a copy of the latest maps of the area,” James said.

“But I would be a fool to turn a military escort down, if such is available.”

“Under ordinary circumstances, a military escort might be available to you. But these aren’t ordinary circumstances. There is a war on, and you, and I take it the others with you on this drive, are Texans. How would it look in the press if some of my men were killed while providing an escort for Southerners?”

“It probably wouldn’t look very good,” James said in agreement.

“I could wire back to Fort Leavenworth and request permission to provide an escort. I don’t think they will give me approval, and there is even a possibility that they will order me to detain you and confiscate your herd. Would you like me to send that wire?”

“No,” James said.

“I didn’t think you would. So, what are you going to do, Mr. Cason? Are you going to try and go on alone? Or, shall I send for my quartermaster to buy your herd?”

“I’m going on,” James said, resolutely.

“I wish you luck,” Appleby said, by way of dismissal.

The Bucket of Blood Saloon:

Duke and John were standing at the bar, having a drink. Luke was with them, but he was paying more attention to one of the prostitutes than he was to his beer. Four soldiers were sitting at a nearby table.

“Hey, where you fellas from?” one of the soldiers asked.

“We’re from—” John started, but Duke interrupted him.

“We’re from a cow camp up the river a short distance,” Duke said. “We’re driving a herd of cattle through here.”

“Yeah, well, what I mean is, where did you bring them cows from?”

“Texas,” John answered before Duke could cut him off.

Duke sighed, because John’s answer had just the effect he was trying to avoid.

“Texas? By God, you mean to tell me you Rebel bastards got the sand to come up here?”

“We’re from Texas, but we’re not Rebels,” Duke said.

“You ain’t, huh? Well, you look like Rebels to me,” the soldier insisted.

“How the hell would you know what a Rebel looks like?” John asked. “You ain’t exactly in the middle of the war out here.”

“I say you three pukes are Rebels,” the soldier said, getting up from his chair. “And I’m tellin’ you to go on back to where you came from.”

Without saying another word, John threw his beer mug at the soldier. He missed the soldier who was his target, but he hit one of the other soldiers sitting at the same table.

One of the soldiers at the table threw his own beer mug and it sailed by John and Duke, smashing several bottles of liquor that were sitting on a shelf behind the bar.

With that, the fight was on. Other soldiers joined the first group, giving them a three-to-one edge over the cowboys. Tables were broken and chairs were splintered as the fight grew in intensity.

James was just walking toward the saloon to meet the others, when the window suddenly exploded into a shower of glass as a chair came flying outside. From inside the saloon he could hear angry shouts and curses, and he realized at once what was happening. He ran into the saloon with his gun drawn. Stepping through the door, he saw three soldiers lying on the floor. A fourth soldier was on his knees, shaking his head as if trying to clear away the cobwebs. Five soldiers were still on their feet, however, and they were closing a circle around the three cowboys.

“Hold it!” James shouted. When nobody paid any attention to him, he shouted again, firing his pistol at the same time. The gunshot boomed through the saloon and a heavy cloud of smoke and the acrid smell of spent powder drifted through the room.

The gunshot had the desired effect of getting everyone’s attention and all activity came to a halt.

“Now, you soldier-boys just back on away from my pards, there,” James ordered, making a little waving motion with his pistol.

The soldiers moved a few feet away from the bar. Their hands were up and they were glaring at James.

“All the way,” James said. “Go over to that table in the far corner and sit down.”

Grumbling, the soldiers did as ordered.

“Now, Duke, take these two with you on outside, get on your horses and go back to camp,” James said.

Duke and Luke started to comply, but John turned back to the bar.

“You boys go on. I ain’t goin’ nowhere ’till I’ve finished my drink and had me a woman,” he said.

Almost imperceptibly, James nodded at Duke. Slipping his pistol from his holster, Duke hit John just behind the ear. John went down, and Duke scooped him up. Then, carrying John over his shoulder, Duke followed Luke outside.

With his gun still pointed toward the soldiers, including the ones on the floor who were just now beginning to regain their feet, James backed out of the saloon.

“Hey!” the saloon proprietor shouted. “Who’s going to pay for the damage to my place? I’ve got a broke window, couple of busted chairs, and a dozen bottles of liquor ruined here.”

“How much?”

“A hundred dollars for sure.”

“We’ve got a cow camp about three miles upriver,” James said. “I’ll cut out five head and leave them tied to a tree. You can come up and get them. Will that satisfy you?”

The proprietor nodded. “If I find five cows tied to a tree, I’ll be satisfied.”

James was the last to leave, still holding his gun at the ready as he backed through the door. A moment later, those in the saloon heard the sound of hoofbeats as the cowboys rode off.

Private Murphy, who was one of the soldiers ordered to the table, got up quickly and started toward the door.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, soldier,” the proprietor said. “That fool cowboy might just be waiting for someone to stick his head through the door so he can shoot it off. I know them Texans.”

Murphy halted his charge toward the door. He went over to the bar. There were the ghosts of missing stripes on Murphy’s sleeve, indicating that his present rank of private was the result of some misdeed in the past. Picking up what was left of John Scattergood’s beer, he drank it.

“Say, will them cows really pay for the damage that was done in here?” he asked.

“They sure will. There is a standing offer from the U.S. Army for cattle. They’ll pay twenty dollars apiece for ’em.”

“Is that a fact?” Murphy asked.

“What does the army want with cattle?” one of the other soldiers asked.

“What does the army want with cattle? Where do you think we get our beef?” Murphy replied.

“Seems to me like we don’t hardly ever have none,” the first soldier said. “Seems to me, mostly all we get is beans and, sometimes, a little bacon.”

“What with the war on and all, there’s a lot more soldiers than there is beef available,” the saloon proprietor explained. “And what beef is available goes to the fightin’ men, not soldier-boys like you, safe in some distant fort. That’s why there is a standing order for cattle, and the army is willing to pay good money to anyone who can furnish them with beef.”

Murphy walked back to the table to sit with the others. “Twenty dollars for one cow. Did you fellas hear that?”

“Yeah, I heard it,” one of the other soldiers said. “Twenty dollars is damn near two months’ pay.”

“That’s a lot of money,” another soldier said.

“You know, if we had us, say, a hundred cows, that would be worth some real money,” Murphy said.

“Yeah, if we had a hundred cows.”

Murphy smiled at the others. “Well, I know where we can get a hundred cows,” he said.

“Where?”

“Didn’t you hear that Texan tell the barkeep that he had a cow camp just up the river a ways? A cow camp means there’s cows.”

“Are you suggesting we rustle cattle?” one of the others asked.

“Nah,” Murphy said, dismissing the suggestion with a wave of his hand. “It wouldn’t be rustling. We’re in the Union army, them boys are Rebels. All we would be doing is confiscating a few cows for the government.”

“What’s the good of that? If we confiscated them for the army, the army would just take them away from us and we’d get nothing.”

“Yeah,” another agreed. “And it don’t matter what they are paying civilians to sell them beef—they ain’t going to pay soldiers.”

“I was thinking we could sell the cows to the barkeep, then he could sell them to the army.”

“Think he’d do that?”

“I’ll give you boys fifteen dollars a head,” the barkeep said, overhearing their conversation.