Wells Brothers: The Young Cattle Kings Read online

  WELLS BROTHERS

  The Young Cattle Kings

  by

  ANDY ADAMS

  1911

  THEY CHANGED TO FRESH ONES AT NOON (p.26)]

  CONTENTS

  I. WAIFS OF THE PLAIN II. THE HOSPITAL ON THE BEAVER III. THE BOTTOM RUNG IV. THE BROTHERS CLAIM A RANGE V. A FALL OF CRUMBS VI. SUNSHINE AND SHADOW VII. ALL IN THE DAY'S WORKVIII. THE LINES OF INTRENCHMENT IX. A WINTRY CRUCIBLE X. GOOD FIGHTING XI. HOLDING THE FORT XII. A WINTER DRIFTXIII. A WELCOME GUEST XIV. AN ILL WIND XV. WATER! WATER! XVI. A PROTECTED CREDITXVII. "THE WAGON"XVIII. AN OPEN WINTER XIX. AN INDIAN SCARE XX. HARVEST ON THE RANGE XXI. LIVING IN THE SADDLE XXII. INDEPENDENCE

  CHAPTER I

  WAIFS OF THE PLAIN

  The first herd of trail cattle to leave Dodge City, Kansas, for theNorthwest, during the summer of 1885, was owned by the veteran drover,Don Lovell. Accidents will happen, and when about midway between theformer point and Ogalalla, Nebraska, a rather serious mishap befellQuince Forrest, one of the men with the herd. He and the horse wrangler,who were bunkies, were constantly scuffling, reckless to the point ofinjury, the pulse of healthy manhood beating a constant alarm torough contest.

  The afternoon previous to the accident, a wayfaring man had overtakenthe herd, and spent the night with the trail outfit. During the evening,a flock of sand-hill cranes was sighted, when the stranger expressed awish to secure a specimen of the bird for its splendid plumage. OnForrest's own suggestion, his being a long-range pistol and the coveywary, the two exchanged belts. The visitor followed the flock, stealingwithin range a number of times, and emptying the six-shooter at everychance. On securing a fine specimen near nightfall, he returned to theherd, elated over his chance shot and beautiful trophy. However, beforereturning the belt, he had refilled the cylinder with six instead offive cartridges, thus resting the hammer on a loaded shell. In theenthusiasm of the moment, and ignorant of its danger, belt and pistolwere returned to their owner.

  Dawn found the camp astir. The sun had flooded the plain while theoutfit was breakfasting, the herd was grazing forward in pastoralcontentment, the horses stood under saddle for the morning's work, whenthe trail foreman, Paul Priest, languidly remarked: "If everybody'sready, we'll ride. Fill the canteens; it's high time we were in thesaddle. Of course, that means the parting tussle between Quince and thewrangler. It would be a shame to deny those lads anything so enjoyable--they remind me so much of mule colts and half-grown dogs. Now, cut inand worry each other a spell, because you'll be separated until noon.Fly at it, or we mount."

  The two addressed never cast a glance at each other, but as the menswung into their saddles, the horse wrangler, with the agility of atiger, caught his bunkie in the act of mounting, dragging him to theground, when the expected scuffle ensued. The outfit had barely time toturn their horses, to witness the contest, when the two crashed againstthe wagon wheel and Forrest's pistol was discharged. The men dismountedinstantly, the wrangler eased the victim to the ground, and when theoutfit gathered around, the former was smothering the burning clothingof his friend and bunkmate. A withdrawn boot, dripping with blood, wasthe first indication of the havoc wrought, and on stripping it was foundthat the bullet had ploughed an open furrow down the thigh, penetratingthe calf of the leg from knee to ankle, where it was fortunatelydeflected outward and into the ground.

  The deepest of regret was naturally expressed. The jocular remarks ofthe foreman, the actions of the wrangler, were instantly recalled to thesurrounding group, while the negligence which caused the accident waspolitely suppressed. The stranger, innocently unaware of any mistake onhis part, lent a valuable hand in stanching the blood and in washing andbinding up the wounds. No bones were injured, and with youth and abuoyant constitution, there was every hope of recovery.

  However, some disposition must be made of the wounded man. No one couldrecall a house or settlement nearer than the Republican River, unlessdown the Beaver, which was uncertain, when the visitor came to therescue. He was positive that some two years before, an old soldier hadtaken a homestead five or six miles above the trail crossing on theBeaver. He was insistent, and the foreman yielded so far as to order theherd grazed forward to the Beaver, which was some ten miles distant intheir front. All the blankets in the outfit were accordingly broughtinto use, in making a comfortable bed in the wagon, and the caravanstarted, carrying the wounded man with it. Taking the stranger with him,the foreman bore away in the direction of the supposed homestead, havingpreviously sent two men on an opposite angle, in search of anysettlement down the creek.

  The visitor's knowledge of the surrounding country proved to be correct.About six miles above the trail crossing, the Beaver, fringed withwillows, meandered through a narrow valley, in which the homestead waslocated. The presence of the willows was an indication of old beaverdams, which the settler had improved until the water stood in long,placid pools. In response to their hail, two boys, about fourteen andsixteen years of age, emerged from the dug-out and greeted the horsemen.On inquiry, it proved that their father had died during the previouswinter, at a settlement on the Solomon River, and the boys were thenconfronted with the necessity of leaving the claim to avoid sufferingwant. It was also learned that their mother had died before their fatherhad taken the homestead, and therefore they were left orphans to fighttheir own battle.

  The boys gave their names as Joel and Dell Wells. Both were bright-eyedand alert, freckled from the sun, ragged and healthy. Joel was theoldest, broad-shouldered for his years, distant by nature, with a shockof auburn hair, while Dell's was red; in height, the younger was theequal of his brother, talkative, and frank in countenance. When madeacquainted with the errand of the trail boss, the older boy shook hishead, but Dell stepped forward: "Awful sorry," said he, with a sweep ofhis hand, "but our garden failed, and there won't be a dozenroasting-ears in that field of corn. If hot winds don't kill it, itmight make fodder. We expect to pull out next week."

  "Have you no cows?" inquired the trail foreman.

  "We had two, but the funeral expenses took them, and then pa's pensionwas stopped. You see--"

  "I see," said the trail foreman, dismounting. "Possibly we can help eachother. Our wagon is well provisioned. If you'll shelter and nurse thiswounded man of mine--"

  "We can't winter here," said Joel, stepping forward, "and the sooner weget out and find work the better."

  "Oh, I was figuring on paying you wages," countered the trail man, nowaware of their necessity, "and I suppose you could use a quarterof beef."

  "Oh goodness," whispered Dell to his brother; "think, fresh meat."

  "And I'll give each of you twenty-five dollars a month--leave the moneywith my man or pay you in advance. If you say the word, I'll unload mywagon right here, and grub-stake you for two months. I can get moreprovision at the Republican River, and in the mean time, somethingmay turn up."

  The stranger also dismounted and took part in urging the necessity ofaccepting the offer. Dell brightened at every suggestion, but hisbrother was tactful, questioning and combating the men, and lookingwell to the future. A cold and unfriendly world, coupled withmisfortune, had aged the elder boy beyond his years, while the youngerone was sympathetic, trustful, and dependent.

  "Suppose we are delayed in reaching the Solomon until fall," said Dellto his brother; "that will put us into the settlements in time forcorn-shucking. If you get six-bits a day, I'm surely worth fifty cents."

  "Suppose there is no corn to shuck," replied Joel. "Suppose this woundedman dies on our hands? What then? Haven't you heard pa tell how soldiersdied from slight wounds?--from blood-poisoning? If we have to go, wemight as well go at once."

  Ac
cording to his light, the boy reasoned well. But when the wayfaringman had most skillfully retold the story of the Good Samaritan, theolder boy relented somewhat, while Dell beamed with enthusiasm at theopportunity of rendering every assistance.

  "It isn't because we don't want to help you," protested Joel, but it'sbecause we're so poor and have nothing to offer."

  "You have health and willing hands," said the trail boss; "let me do therest."

  "But suppose he doesn't recover as soon as expected," cautiouslyprotested Joel, "where are we to get further provision?"

  "Good suggestion," assented the trail foreman. "But here: I'll leave twogood horses in your care for the wounded man, and all you need to do isto ride down to the trail, hail any passing herd, and simply tell themyou are harboring a crippled lad, one of Don Lovell's boys, and you canlevy on them for all they have. It's high time you were gettingacquainted with these trail outfits. Shelter this man of mine, and allwill come out well in the end. Besides, I'll tell old man Don about youboys, and he might take you home to his ranch with him. He has no boys,and he might take a fancy to you two."

  Dell's eyes moistened at the suggestion of a home. The two brothersreentered the dug-out, and the men led their horses down to the creekfor a drink. A span of poor old mules stood inside a wooden corral, arickety wagon and a few rusty farming implements were scattered about,while over all the homestead was the blight of a mercilesssummer drouth.

  "What a pretty little ranch this would make," said the trail boss to thestranger. "If these boys had a hundred cows, with this water and range,in a few years they would be independent men. No wonder that oldest boyis cautious. Just look around and see the reward of their father's andtheir own labor. Their very home denies them bread."

  "Did you notice the older boy brighten," inquired the visitor, "when yousuggested leaving horses in their care? It was the only argument thattouched him."

  "Then I'll use it," said the trail boss, brightening. "We have severalcow horses in our remuda, unfit for saddle,--galled backs and thelike,--and if these boys would care for them, I'll make their hungryhearts happy. Care and attention and a month's rest would make theponies as sound as a dollar. You suggest my giving them each a saddlepony; argue the matter, and try and win me over."

  The men retraced their steps, leading their horses, and when scarcelyhalfway from the creek to the dug-out, Dell ran down to meet them. "Ifyou can spare us a few blankets and a pillow," earnestly said the boy,"we'll take the wounded man. He's liable to be feverish at night, andought to have a pillow. Joel and I can sleep outside or in the stable."

  "Hurrah for the Wells boys!" shouted the trail boss. "Hereafter I'll betmy money, horse and saddle, on a red-headed boy. Blankets? Why, you canhave half a dozen, and as to pillows, watch me rob the outfit. I have arubber one, there are several moss ones, and I have a lurking suspicionthat there are a few genuine goose-hair pillows in the outfit, and youmay pick and choose. They are all yours for the asking."

  The men parleyed around some little time, offering pretexts for enteringthe shack, the interior of which bespoke its own poverty. When allagreements had been reviewed, the men mounted their horses, promising tofulfill their part of the covenant that afternoon or evening.

  Once out of hearing, the stranger remarked: "That oldest boy is allright; it was their poverty that caused him to hesitate; he tried toshield their want. We men don't always understand boys. Hereafter, indealing with Joel, you must use some diplomacy. The death of his parentshas developed a responsibility in the older boy which the younger onedoesn't feel. That's about all the difference in the two lads. You mustdeal gently with Joel, and never offend him or expose his needs."

  "Trust me," replied the foreman, "and I'll coach Quince--that's the nameof the wounded man. Within an hour, he'll be right at home with thoseboys. If nothing serious happens to his wound, within a week he'll havethose youngsters walking on clouds."

  The two men rode out of the valley, when they caught sight of a dustcloud, indicating the locality of the trailing herd, then hidden behindthe last divide before reaching Beaver Creek. On every hand theundulating plain rolled away to low horizons, and the men rode forwardat a leisurely pace.

  "I've been thinking of those boys," suddenly said the trail foreman,arousing himself from a reverie. "They're to be pitied. This governmentought to be indicted for running a gambling game, robbing children,orphan children of a soldier, at that. There's a fair sample of the skingame the government's running--bets you one hundred and sixty acresagainst fourteen dollars you can't hold down a homestead for five years.And big as the odds look, in nine cases out of ten, in this country, thegovernment wins. It ought to be convicted on general principles. Men arenot to be pitied, but it's a crime against women and children."

  "Oh, you cowmen always rail at the settler," retorted the stranger; "youwould kick if you were being hung. There's good in everything. A fewyears of youthful poverty, once they reach manhood, isn't going to hurtthose boys. The school of experience has its advantages."

  "If it's convenient, let's keep an eye on those boys the next fewyears," said the trail boss, catching sight of his remuda. "Now, there'sthe wagon. Suppose you ride down to the Beaver and select a good camp,well above the trail crossing, and I'll meet the commissary and herd.We'll have to lay over this afternoon, which will admit of watering theherd twice to-day. Try and find some shade."

  The men separated, riding away on different angles. The foreman hailedhis wagon, found the victim resting comfortably, and reported securing ahaven for the wounded man. Instructing his cook to watch for a signal,at the hands of the stranger, indicating a camp on the creek, he turnedand awaited the arrival of the lead cattle of the trailing column.Issuing orders to cover the situation, he called off half the men, firstveering the herd to the nearest water, and rode to overtake his wagonand saddle horses.

  Beaver Creek was barely running water, with an occasional long pool. Ahedge of willows was interwoven, Indian fashion, from which a tarpaulinwas stretched to the wagon bows, forming a sheltered canopy. Amid a fireof questions, the wounded man was lifted from the wagon.

  "Are you sure there isn't a woman at this nester's shack," said heappealingly to the bearers of the blanket stretcher. "If there is, Iain't going. Paul, stand squarely in front of me, where I can see youreyes. After what I've been handed lately, it makes me peevish. I want tofeel the walnut juice in your hand clasp. Now, tell it all overonce more."

  The stranger was artfully excused, to select a beef, after which theforeman sat down beside his man, giving him all the details and makingvaluable suggestions. He urged courteous treatment of their guest whilehe remained; that there was nothing to be gained, after the accident, byinsult to a visitor, and concluded by praising the boys and bespeakingtheir protection.

  The wounded man was Southern by birth and instinct, and knew that thehospitality of ranch and road and camp was one and the same. "Verywell," said he, "but in this instance, remember it's my calf that'sgored. Serves me right, though, kittening up to every stranger thatcomes along. I must be getting tired of you slatterly cow hands." Hehesitated a moment. "The one thing I like," he continued, "about thisnester layout is those red-headed boys. And these two are just aboutpetting age. I can almost see them eating sugar out of my hand."

  After dinner, and now that a haven was secured, the question of medicalaid was considered. The couriers down the Beaver had returned andreported no habitation in that direction. Fortunately the destination ofthe stranger was a settlement on the Republican River, and hevolunteered to ride through that afternoon and night and secure asurgeon. Frontier physicians were used to hundred-mile calls. The ownerof the herd, had he been present, would have insisted on medicalattention, the wounded man reluctantly consented, and the stranger,carrying a hastily written letter to Mr. Lovell, took his departure.

  Early evening found the patient installed, not in the dug-out, but in aroomy tent. A quarter of beef hung on a willow, the one-room shack wasbountifully provisioned,
while the foreman remained to await the arrivalof a physician. The day had brought forth wonders to Joel and Dell--fromthe dark hour of want to the dawn of plenty, while the future was asealed book. In addition to the promised horses, Forrest's saddle hungin the sod stable, while two extra ponies aroused the wonder of thequestioning boys.

  "I just brought these two along," explained the foreman, "as their backswere galled during a recent rainy spell. You can see they are unfit forsaddle, but with a little attention can be cured--I'll show you how. Youhave an abundance of water, and after I leave, wash their backs, morningand evening, and they'll be well in a month. Since you are running atrail hospital, you want to cater to man and beast. Of course, if youboys nurse this man through to health and strength, I'll make an appealto Mr. Lovell to give you these ponies. They'll come in handy, in caseyou return to the Solomon, or start a little cattle ranch here."

  The sun set in benediction on the little homestead. The transformationseemed magical. Even the blight of summer drouth was toned and temperedby the shadows of evening. The lesson of the day had filled empty heartswith happiness, and when darkness fell, the boys threw off all formerreserve, and the bond of host and guest was firmly established. Forrest,even, cemented the tie, by dividing any needful attention betweenthe boys.

  "Do you know," said he to the foreman indifferently, in the presence ofthe lads, "that I was thinking of calling the oldest one Doc and theyoungest one Nurse, but now I'm going to call them just plain Joel andDell, and they can call me Mr. Quince. Honor bright, I never met a boywho can pour water on a wound, that seems to go to the right spot, likeDell Wells. One day with another, give me a red-headed boy."