The Outlet

Morning dawned on a scene of pastoral grandeur.  The valley of the North Platte was dotted with cattle from hill and plain.  The river, well confined within its low banks, divided an unsurveyed domain of green-swarded meadows like a boundary line between vast pastures.  The exodus of cattle from Texas to the new Northwest was nearing flood-tide, and from every swell and knoll the solitary figure of the herdsman greeted the rising sun.

Sponsilier and I had agreed to rejoin our own outfits at the first opportunity.  We might have exchanged places the evening before, but I had a horse and some ammunition at Dave’s camp and was just contentious enough not to give up a single animal from my own mount.  On the other hand, Mr. Dave Sponsilier would have traded whole remudas with me; but my love for a good horse was strong, and Fort Buford was many a weary mile distant.  Hence there was no surprise shown as Sponsilier rode up to his own wagon that morning in time for breakfast.  We were good friends when personal advantages did not conflict, and where our employer’s interests were at stake we stood shoulder to shoulder like comrades.  Yet Dave gave me a big jolly about being daffy over my horses, well knowing that there is an indescribable nearness between one of our craft and his own mount.  But warding off his raillery, just the same and in due time, I cantered away on my own horse.

As I rode up the North Fork towards my outfit, the attached herd was in plain view across the river.  Arriving at my own wagon, I saw a mute appeal in every face for permission to go to town, and consent was readily granted to all who had not been excused on a similar errand the day before.  The cook and horse-wrangler were included, and the activities of the outfit in saddling and getting away were suggestive of a prairie fire or a stampede.  I accompanied them across the river, and then turned upstream to my brother’s camp, promising to join them later and make a full day of it.  At Bob’s wagon they had stretched a fly, and in its shade lounged half a dozen men, while an air of languid indolence pervaded the camp.  Without dismounting, I announced myself as on the way to town, and invited any one who wished to accompany me.  Lovell and Reed both declined; half of Bob’s men had been excused and started an hour before, but my brother assured me that if I would wait until the deposed foreman returned, the latter’s company could be counted on.  I waited, and in the course of half an hour the trail boss came back from his cattle.  During the interim, the two old cowmen reviewed Grant’s siege of Vicksburg, both having been participants, but on opposite sides.  While the guest was shifting his saddle to a loaned horse, I inquired if there was anything that I could attend to for any one at Ogalalla.  Lovell could think of nothing; but as we mounted to start, Reed aroused himself, and coming over, rested the stub of his armless sleeve on my horse’s neck, saying: 

“You boys might drop into the sheriff’s office as you go in and also again as you are starting back.  Report the cattle as having spent a quiet night and ask Phillips if he has any word for me.”

Turning to the trail boss he continued:  “Young man, I would suggest that you hunt up your employer and have him stir things up.  The cattle will be well taken care of, but we’re just as anxious to turn them back to you as you are to receive them.  Tell the seller that it would be well worth his while to see Lovell and myself before going any farther.  We can put him in possession of a few facts that may save him time and trouble.  I reckon that’s about all.  Oh, yes, I’ll be at this wagon all evening.”

My brother rode a short distance with us and introduced the stranger as Hugh Morris.  He proved a sociable fellow, had made three trips up the trail as foreman, his first two herds having gone to the Cherokee Strip under contract.  By the time we reached Ogalalla, as strong a fraternal level existed between us as though we had known each other for years.  Halting for a moment at the sheriff’s office, we delivered our messages, after which we left our horses at the same corral with the understanding that we would ride back together.  A few drinks were indulged in before parting, then each went to attend to his own errands, but we met frequently during the day.  Once my boys were provided with funds, they fell to gambling so eagerly that they required no further thought on my part until evening.  Several times during the day I caught glimpses of Tolleston, always on horseback, and once surrounded by quite a cavalcade of horsemen.  Morris and I took dinner at the hotel where the trio of government jobbers were stopping.  They were in evidence, and amongst the jolliest of the guests, commanding and receiving the best that the hostelry afforded.  Sutton was likewise present, but quiet and unpretentious, and I thought there was a false, affected note in the hilarity of the ringsters, and for effect.  I was known to two of the trio, but managed to overhear any conversation which was adrift.  After dinner and over fragrant cigars, they reared their feet high on an outer gallery, and the inference could be easily drawn that a contract, unless it involved millions, was beneath their notice.

Morris informed me that his employer’s suspicions were aroused, and that he had that morning demanded a settlement in full or the immediate release of the herd.  They had laughed the matter off as a mere incident that would right itself at the proper time, and flashed as references a list of congressmen, senators, and bankers galore.  But Morris’s employer had stood firm in his contentions, refusing to be overawed by flattery or empty promises.  What would be the result remained to be seen, and the foreman and myself wandered aimlessly around town during the afternoon, meeting other trail bosses, nearly all of whom had heard more or less about the existing trouble.  That we had the sympathy of the cattle interests on our side goes without saying, and one of them, known as “the kidgloved foreman,” a man in the employ of Shanghai Pierce, invoked the powers above to witness what would happen if he were in Lovell’s boots.  This was my first meeting with the picturesque trail boss, though I had heard of him often and found him a trifle boastful but not a bad fellow.  He distinguished himself from others of his station on the trail by always wearing white shirts, kid gloves, riding-boots, inlaid spurs, while a heavy silver chain was wound several times round a costly sombrero in lieu of a hatband.  We spent an hour or more together, drinking sparingly, and at parting he begged that I would assure my employer that he sympathized with him and was at his command.

The afternoon was waning when I hunted up my outfit and started them for camp.  With one or two exceptions, the boys were broke and perfectly willing to go.  Morris and I joined them at the livery where they had left their horses, and together we started out of town.  Ordering them to ride on to camp, and saying that I expected to return by way of Bob Quirk’s wagon, Morris and myself stopped at the court-house.  Sheriff Phillips was in his office and recognized us both at a glance.  “Well, she’s working,” said he, “and I’ll probably have some word for you late this evening.  Yes, one of the local attorneys for your friends came in and we figured everything up.  He thought that if this office would throw off a certain per cent. of its expense, and Reed would knock off the interest, his clients would consent to a settlement.  I told him to go right back and tell his people that as long as they thought that way, it would only cost them one hundred and forty dollars every twenty-four hours.  The lawyer was back within twenty minutes, bringing a draft, covering every item, and urged me to have it accepted by wire.  The bank was closed, but I found the cashier in a poker-game and played his hand while he went over to the depot and sent the message.  The operator has orders to send a duplicate of the answer to this office, and the moment I get it, if favorable, I’ll send a deputy with the news over to the North Fork.  Tell Reed that I think the check’s all right this time, but we’ll stand pat until we know for a certainty.  We’ll get an answer by morning sure.’’

The message was hailed with delight at Bob Quirk’s wagon.  On nearing the river, Morris rode by way of the herd to ask the deputies in charge to turn the cattle up the river towards his camp.  Several of the foreman’s men were waiting at my brother’s wagon, and on Morris’s return he ordered his outfit to meet the beeves the next morning and be in readiness to receive them back.  Our foremen were lying around temporary headquarters, and as we were starting for our respective camps for the night, Lovell suggested that we hold our outfits all ready to move out with the herds on an hour’s notice.  Accordingly the next morning, I refused every one leave of absence, and gave special orders to the cook and horse-wrangler to have things in hand to start on an emergency order.  Jim Flood had agreed to wait for me, and we would recross the river together and hear the report from the sheriff’s office.  Forrest and Sponsilier rode up about the same time we arrived at his wagon, and all four of us set out for headquarters across the North Fork.  The sun was several hours high when we reached the wagon, and learned that an officer had arrived during the night with a favorable answer, that the cattle had been turned over to Morris without a count, and that the deputies had started for town at daybreak.

“Well, boys,” said Lovell, as we came in after picketing our horses, “Reed, here, wins out, but we’re just as much at sea as ever.  I’ve looked the situation over from a dozen different viewpoints, and the only thing to do is graze across country and tender our cattle at Fort Buford.  It’s my nature to look on the bright side of things, and yet I’m old enough to know that justice, in a world so full of injustice, is a rarity.  By allowing the earnest-money paid at Dodge to apply, some kind of a compromise might be effected, whereby I could get rid of two of these herds, with three hundred saddle horses thrown back on my hands at the Yellowstone River.  I might dispose of the third herd here and give the remuda away, but at a total loss of at least thirty thousand dollars on the Buford cattle.  But then there’s my bond to The Western Supply Company, and if this herd of Morris’s fails to respond on the day of delivery, I know who will have to make good.  An Indian uprising, or the enforcement of quarantine against Texas fever, or any one of a dozen things might tie up the herd, and September the 15th come and go and no beef offered on the contract.  I’ve seen outfits start out and never get through with the chuck-wagon, even.  Sutton’s advice is good; we’ll tender the cattle.  There is a chance that we’ll get turned down, but if we do, I have enough indemnity money in my possession to temper the wind if the day of delivery should prove a chilly one to us.  I think you had all better start in the morning.”

The old man’s review of the situation was a rational one, in which Jim Reed and the rest of us concurred.  Several of the foremen, among them myself, were anxious to start at once, but Lovell urged that we kill a beef before starting and divide it up among the six outfits.  He also proposed to Flood that they go into town during the afternoon and freely announce our departure in the morning, hoping to force any issue that might be smouldering in the enemy’s camp.  The outlook for an early departure was hailed with delight by the older foremen, and we younger and more impulsive ones yielded.  The cook had orders to get up something extra for dinner, and we played cards and otherwise lounged around until the midday meal was announced as ready.  A horse had been gotten up for Lovell to ride and was on picket, all the relieved men from the attached herd were at Bob’s wagon for dinner, and jokes and jollity graced the occasion.  But near the middle of the noon repast, some one sighted a mounted man coming at a furious pace for the camp, and shortly the horseman dashed up and inquired for Lovell.  We all arose, when the messenger dismounted and handed my employer a letter.  Tearing open the missive, the old man read it and turned ashy pale.  The message was from Mike Sutton, stating that a fourth member of the ring had arrived during the forenoon, accompanied by a United States marshal from the federal court at Omaha; that the officer was armed with an order of injunctive relief; that he had deputized thirty men whom Tolleston had gathered, and proposed taking possession of the two herds in question that afternoon.

“Like hell they will,” said Don Lovell, as he started for his horse.  His action was followed by every man present, including the one-armed guest, and within a few minutes thirty men swung into saddles, subject to orders.  The camps of the two herds at issue were about four and five miles down and across the river, and no doubt Tolleston knew of their location, as they were only a little more than an hour’s ride from Ogalalla.  There was no time to be lost, and as we hastily gathered around the old man, he said:  “Ride for your outfits, boys, and bring along every man you can spare.  We’ll meet north of the river about midway between Quince’s and Tom’s camps.  Bring all the cartridges you have, and don’t spare your horses going or coming.”

Priest’s wagon was almost on a line with mine, though south of the river.  Fortunately I was mounted on one of the best horses in my string, and having the farthest to go, shook the kinks out of him as old Paul and myself tore down the mesa.  After passing The Rebel’s camp, I held my course as long as the footing was solid, but on encountering the first sand, crossed the river nearly opposite the appointed rendezvous.  The North Platte was fordable at any point, flowing but a midsummer stage of water, with numerous wagon crossings, its shallow channel being about one hundred yards wide.  I reined in my horse for the first time near the middle of the stream, as the water reached my saddle-skirts; when I came out on the other side, Priest and his boys were not a mile behind me.  As I turned down the river, casting a backward glance, squads of horsemen were galloping in from several quarters and joining a larger one which was throwing up clouds of dust like a column of cavalry.  In making a cut-off to reach my camp, I crossed a sand dune from which I sighted the marshal’s posse less than two miles distant.  My boys were gambling among themselves, not a horse under saddle, and did not notice my approach until I dashed up.  Three lads were on herd, but the rest, including the wrangler, ran for their mounts on picket, while Parent and myself ransacked the wagon for ammunition.  Fortunately the supply of the latter was abundant, and while saddles were being cinched on horses, the cook and I divided the ammunition and distributed it among the men.  The few minutes’ rest refreshed my horse, but as we dashed away, the boys yelling like Comanches, the five-mile ride had bested him and he fell slightly behind.  As we turned into the open valley, it was a question if we or the marshal would reach the stream first; he had followed an old wood road and would strike the river nearly opposite Forrest’s camp.  The horses were excited and straining every nerve, and as we neared our crowd the posse halted on the south side and I noticed a conveyance among them in which were seated four men.  There was a moment’s consultation held, when the posse entered the water and began fording the stream, the vehicle and its occupants remaining on the other side.  We had halted in a circle about fifty yards back from the river-bank, and as the first two men came out of the water, Don Lovell rode forward several lengths of his horse, and with his hand motioned to them to halt.  The leaders stopped within easy speaking distance, the remainder of the posse halting in groups at their rear, when Lovell demanded the meaning of this demonstration.

An inquiry and answer followed identifying the speakers.  “In pursuance of an order from the federal court of this jurisdiction,” continued the marshal, “I am vested with authority to take into my custody two herds, numbering nearly seven thousand beeves, now in your possession, and recently sold to Field, Radcliff & Co. for government purposes.  I propose to execute my orders peaceably, and any interference on your part will put you and your men in contempt of government authority.  If resistance is offered, I can, if necessary, have a company of United States cavalry here from Fort Logan within forty-eight hours to enforce the mandates of the federal court.  Now my advice to you would be to turn these cattle over without further controversy.”

“And my advice to you,” replied Lovell, “is to go back to your federal court and tell that judge that as a citizen of these United States, and one who has borne arms in her defense, I object to having snap judgment rendered against me.  If the honorable court which you have the pleasure to represent is willing to dispossess me of my property in favor of a ring of government thieves, and on only hearing one side of the question, then consider me in contempt.  I’ll gladly go back to Omaha with you, but you can’t so much as look at a hoof in my possession.  Now call your troops, or take me with you for treating with scorn the orders of your court.”

Meanwhile every man on our side had an eye on Archie Tolleston, who had gradually edged forward until his horse stood beside that of the marshal.  Before the latter could frame a reply to Lovell’s ultimatum, Tolleston said to the federal officer: 

“Didn’t my employers tell you that the old —–­ —­ — ——­ would defy you without a demonstration of soldiers at your back?  Now, the laugh’s on you, and—­”

“No, it’s on you,” interrupted a voice at my back, accompanied by a pistol report.  My horse jumped forward, followed by a fusillade of shots behind me, when the hireling deputies turned and plunged into the river.  Tolleston had wheeled his horse, joining the retreat, and as I brought my six-shooter into action and was in the act of leveling on him, he reeled from the saddle, but clung to the neck of his mount as the animal dashed into the water.  I held my fire in the hope that he would right in the saddle and afford me a shot, but he struck a swift current, released his hold, and sunk out of sight.  Above the din and excitement of the moment, I heard a voice which I recognized as Reed’s, shouting, “Cut loose on that team, boys! blaze away at those harness horses!” Evidently the team had been burnt by random firing, for they were rearing and plunging, and as I fired my first shot at them, the occupants sprang out of the vehicle and the team ran away.  A lull occurred in the shooting, to eject shells and refill cylinders, which Lovell took advantage of by ordering back a number of impulsive lads, who were determined to follow up the fleeing deputies.

“Come back here, you rascals, and stop this shooting!” shouted the old man.  “Stop it, now, or you’ll land me in a federal prison for life!  Those horsemen may be deceived.  When federal courts can be deluded with sugar-coated blandishments, ordinary men ought to be excusable.”

Six-shooters were returned to their holsters.  Several horses and two men on our side had received slight flesh wounds, as there had been a random return fire.  The deputies halted well out of pistol range, covering the retreat of the occupants of the carriage as best they could, but leaving three dead horses in plain view.  As we dropped back towards Forrest’s wagon, the team in the mean time having been caught, those on foot were picked up and given seats in the conveyance.  Meanwhile a remuda of horses and two chuck-wagons were sighted back on the old wood road, but a horseman met and halted them and they turned back for Ogalalla.  On reaching our nearest camp, the posse south of the river had started on their return, leaving behind one of their number in the muddy waters of the North Platte.

Late that evening, as we were preparing to leave for our respective camps, Lovell said to the assembled foremen:  “Quince will take Reed and me into Ogalalla about midnight.  If Sutton advises it, all three of us will go down to Omaha and try and square things.  I can’t escape a severe fine, but what do I care as long as I have their money to pay it with?  The killing of that fool boy worries me more than a dozen fines.  It was uncalled for, too, but he would butt in, and you fellows were all itching for the chance to finger a trigger.  Now the understanding is that you all start in the morning.”