the Thundering Herd (1984) (15 page)

"You've no way with men, Rand. You'd get more out of them if you'd be easy an' patient, an' argue them into your opinions."

"Reckon so, but I can't stand much more from that damned rebel," growled Jett.

"He's harder to handle than Catlee," went on Jett. "He's beginnin' to see a hell of a risk in your way of hide-huntin'. Catlee ain't wise yet. He's as much a tenderfoot as Huggins or a lot more of these jay-hawkers who're crazy to get rich off the buffalo. I was afraid of these two fellars, an' I said so."

"We had to have men. We'd lost a week waitin'," complained Jett.

"Yes, but it'd have been better to wait longer, till you got the right men."

"Too late now. I'll make the best of it an' try to hold my temper."

"Good. Let's turn in," replied Follonsbee, and rose to go toward the tents. Jett spread the fire and followed him. Soon the camp appeared dark and deserted.

Milly crouched there under the big elm until she was sure Jett had crawled into his bed, and then swiftly and noiselessly she covered the ground to her own tent. In the interest of this colloquy among the men she had forgotten her fright. That, in her opinion, had been strange talk for honest hunters. Yet she could only surmise.

While she was revolving in her mind the eventful disclosures of the day sleep overtook her.

Days passed. They flew by, it seemed to Milly. The idle hours that fell to her lot were yet not many nor long enough for these ravenous hide-hunters. She watched in the daytime and listened at night, yet the certainty of what she feared did not come.

Her meetings with Tom Doan continued regularly as the third nights rolled round, without hitch or mishap; and in them Milly seemed to grow into the fullness of a woman's feeling. They talked of their love, of their marriage, and their plans for a home. There was little else to talk about except the buffalo, and the status of Jett and his men. Milly always suffered a pang when Tom, forgetting her love of all animals, raved about how many buffalo he had killed and skinned. Once she got blood on her hand from one of his boots, which she had inadvertently touched, and she was so sick and disgusted over it that she spoke sharply. Almost they quarreled. As for the truth concerning Jett, all Milly's observation and Tom's inquiry could not satisfy them as to what was the actual truth.

More days went fleeting by, ushering in hot July, more hide-hunters along the river brakes, and, what seemed incredible, more buffalo.

"They're massin' up an' makin' ready for a hell of a stampede one of these days," declared Jett, in his booming voice.

One night Milly was awakened by an unusual sound. Horses were snorting and stamping in camp. She peeped out. A wagon with two teams hitched to it stood just beyond the waning camp fire. Jett's burley form held the driver's seat; Follonsbee, rifle in hand, was in the act of climbing beside him; Pruitt stood on the ground, evidently intent on Jett's low, earnest voice. Milly could not distinguish what was being said. Jett drove away into the gloom of the woods. Where could he be going at this hour of the night?

Milly could only conclude that he was driving out for another load of hides. Perhaps Jett had made trips before, unknown to her.

Next day disclosed the odd fact that Jett had not returned. Pruitt and Catlee evidently pursued the hunting as heretofore, and did not commit themselves to any words in Milly's presence. Sunset and supper time found Jett still absent. On the following morning, however, Milly learned that he had returned in the night and was asleep in his tent. She repaired to her own quarters and remained there till noon, when she saw him ride away. That afternoon Milly wandered around, as usual, with apparently no object in view, and eventually approached the glade where Jett kept his hides. She hated to go near it because of the unpleasant odor, the innumerable flies, and the sickening evidence of slaughtered buffalo.

The glade had been cleared farther on the side toward the stream, and everywhere were buffalo hides, hundreds and hundreds of them, some pegged out to dry, others in piles shaded by cut branches.

Milly, because of her former reluctance to visit this place, had no record in her mind of quantity of hides, so she could not tell whether or not there had been a sudden and suspicious addition.

The day after that Jett loaded two wagons with hides, and with Catlee driving one of them they set off for a freighting station.

They were gone five days, during which Milly had the most peaceful time since she had left the settlements. Twice she was with Tom, and they made the best of their opportunity. Mrs. Jett during this period was almost amiable. Follonsbee and Pruitt worked about as before.

When Jett returned, his presence, or something connected with it, seemed to spur his men to renewed efforts. Early and late they were toiling at this game. Tom Doan had told her that the great drive of buffalo was on. Milly, however, had not needed this information. She could see and hear.

No daylight hour was without its trampling thunder! Somewhere on one side of the river or other a part of the great herd was always in motion. Dust blew thick over the sky, sometimes obscuring the sun. And an unfavorable breeze, which fortunately occurred but seldom, brought a stench that Milly could not endure. By day the guns banged east, north, south, west, as if a battle were raging.

Crippled buffalo limped by the camp, with red tongues hanging out, making for the brakes of the river, to hide and die. By night the howl of coyotes was sleep-preventing and the long-drawn deep, wild bay of wolves filled Milly with a haunting fear.

Chapter
VIII

One day in July a band of soldiers rode into Hudnall's camp. The officer in charge got off his horse and appeared to be a lithe, erect man of forty, with a stern bronzed face.

"Who's the owner of this outfit?" he inquired.

Hudnall strode forward. "I am. Clark Hudnall's my name."

"Glad to meet you," replied the officer. "I'm Captain Singleton of the Fourth Cavalry, stationed at Fort Elliott. This is my scout, Ellsworth. We've been detailed to escort buffalo-hunters to the fort or one of the freighting posts. The Indians are raiding."

"But I don't want to go to the fort," protested Hudnall, obstinately.

"You'll stay here at your own risk," warned Singleton.

"We never expected anything else," returned Hudnall, bluntly. "If you want to know, you're the first soldiers we've seen."

"Have you women with you?" inquired the officer.

"Yes. My wife an' daughter an' my son's wife."

"Didn't you know any better than to fetch women out here in this Indian country?" went on Singleton, severely.

"We heard bad rumors, sir, but didn't believe them, an' I may say we've had no trouble so far."

"You've been lucky. Did you know Huggins?"

"Can't say I do--by name," rejoined Hudnall, reflectively.

"Huggins had the outfit several miles below here. One helper at least with him, maybe more. Their camp was raided, burned--hides stolen. No trace of Huggins or his helper."

"Indians?" queried Hudnall, sharply.

"Very likely. We've found no trace of Huggins or his man. They might have escaped to some other outfit or to a freighting post.

But that's doubtful. West of here twenty miles or more a band of Comanches attacked some hunters, and were driven off. Unless you buffalo men camp together some of you are going to be killed."

"We'll fight," declared Hudnall, determinedly.

"But you must take your women to a place of safety," insisted the officer.

Hudnall called his wife and daughter. They came forward from their quarters, accompanied by Burn Hudnall's wife. Evidently they had heard something of the conversation; fear was manifest in their faces.

"Ladies, pray do not be frightened," said the officer, courteously.

"There's no need for that right now. We're here to escort you to a place where you will be safe while your men folks are hunting. It is NOT safe for you here. Any day Indians might ride down on you when you are alone in camp."

Despite Singleton's courtesy and assurance, the women were alarmed, and gathering round Hudnall they began to talk excitedly.

"Captain, you an' your men make yourselves at home while we talk this over," said Hudnall. Pilchuck and Tom Doan, just in from skinning buffalo, stood near during this conversation. Tom welcomed sight of soldiers, and he intended to inform Captain Singleton of the two women in Jett's camp.

"Say, Ellsworth," said Pilchuck to the soldier scout, "if this Huggins outfit was killed by Indians they'd not have disappeared.

Comanches don't bother to bury or hide white men they've killed."

Ellsworth leaned close to Pilchuck. "Reckon it doesn't look like redskin work to me, either."

Pilchuck swore under his breath, and was evidently about to enter into earnest consultation with the soldier scout when Hudnall called him and Tom. They held a brief council. It was decided that Stronghurl and Pilchuck, with the addition of the outfit, Dunn and Tacks, would remain in camp, while Hudnall, Burn Hudnall, and Tom, accompanied by the women, would go with the soldiers. Hudnall did not consider it needful to send them all the way to Fort Elliott; the nearest freighting post, Sprague's, some three days' journey, would be safe and far enough. Hudnall intended to take advantage of this opportunity to freight out his buffalo hides, of which he had a large number.

"Reckon it may work out best, after all," he averred, brightening.

"I'll run no risk losing the hides, an' then we'll soon be in need of supplies, 'specially cartridges."

How dense he seemed to the imperative side of the issue--safety for the women! But he was not a frontiersman. He was brave, though foolhardy.

"We'll pack an' leave early to-morrow," he informed Singleton.

"We'll catch up with you, perhaps before you get to the military road," said the officer.

"I don't know that road, an' with Pilchuck stayin' here I might lose my way," returned Hudnall, in perplexity.

"The military road runs from Fort Elliott to Fort Dodge. You'll strike it about eighteen miles northwest."

"Reckon you can't miss it," added Pilchuck. "An' there's water aplenty."

Hudnall invited Captain Singleton and his soldiers to have supper, which invitation was accepted, much to Tom Doan's satisfaction. He wanted to think over what was best to say to Captain Singleton about the Jett outfit.

There was indeed bustle and rush around the Hudnall camp that afternoon, part of which work was the preparation of a hearty supper. It was cooked and eaten long before sunset. Afterward Tom found occasion to approach the officer.

"Captain, may I have a--a word with you--about something very important?" he inquired frankly, despite a certain embarrassment he could not help.

"Certainly, young man. What can I do for you?" he replied, with keen gray eyes on Tom.

As they withdrew a little, Tom lost his hesitation and briefly told who he was, what he was doing in Hudnall's outfit, and thus quickly reached the point.

"Captain, please let what I tell you be confidential," he went on, earnestly. "It's about a girl with the Jett outfit. She's Jett's stepdaughter. They're camped below the bluff at the mouth of White Creek, several miles down."

"Jett outfit," mused the officer. "I've heard that name. I know where his camp is--down in the woods. Hidden."

"Yes. Well, I--I'm in love with this girl, Milly Fayre--engaged to her. We expect to be married when she's eighteen. And I'm afraid for her--afraid of Jett more than the Indians. So is Milly. He'll not like this idea of sending his women to the fort or anywhere away from him. You see, he's got a wife, too, no relation to Milly-- and he has them do the camp work. He's a hog for this hide- hunting. Then there are two hard nuts with him, Follonsbee and Pruitt. It's not an outfit like ours, Captain, or most any along the river. I can't honestly bring anything bad against Jett, unless it's that he's a brute and is after Milly. I know that.

She won't admit it, but I can feel how she feels. She ought to be taken to the fort or wherever our women go--and please, Captain, don't fail to bring her. If you ask her you'll find out quick that she knows what's best for her."

"Suppose you ride down there with us," suggested Singleton.

"I'd like to, but I'd better not," replied Tom. "Jett knows nothing of me yet. Milly thinks it best he doesn't know until she's free. He might harm her. And if he ever lays a hand on her I'll kill him."

"What'd you say your name is?" inquired the officer.

"Tom Doan."

"All right, Tom, I'm for you and Milly. Here's my hand on it."

"Then you'll fetch her along?" queried Tom, trying to content himself, as he gripped the hand of this fine and soldierly man.

"If she's still there."

"I saw her last night--we've been meeting secretly. She's there."

"Then you will see her to-morrow again, for we'll catch you on the road," replied the officer, with a smile.

"We can never thank you enough," returned Tom, with emotion.

It was indeed with a thankful heart that he saw Singleton and his soldiers, leading their pack-horses, ride off down the river.