Wells Brothers: The Young Cattle Kings Read online

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE LINES OF INTRENCHMENT

  The boys watched the cavalcade until it faded away in the swells of theplain. At each recurring departure of their friends, in spite of allbravado to the contrary, a pall of loneliness crept into the hearts ofthe waifs. Theirs had been a cheerless boyhood; shifted about frompillar to post, with poverty their one sure companion, they had tastedof the wormwood in advance of their years. Toys such as other ladsplayed with for an hour and cast aside were unknown in their lives, andonly the poor substitute for hoop, horse, or gun had been theirs. In thestruggle for existence, human affection was almost denied them. A happyhome they had never known, and the one memory of their childhood worthyof remembrance was the love of a mother, which arose like a lily in themire of their lives, shedding its fragrance more fully as its losswas realized.

  Joel was the more sensitive of the brothers. Forrest had fully discussedthe coming winter with the older lad, and as an incentive towatchfulness had openly expressed doubt of the ability of the boys tobattle with the elements. The conversation was depressing, and on thedeparture of the men, the boys resumed the discussion of the matterat issue.

  "Mr. Quince thinks we can't hold these cattle," said Joel, watching thereceding horsemen. "He's afraid a storm will catch us several miles outand cut us off from reaching the corral. Well, it will be my fault ifit does."

  Dell made a boastful remark, but the older boy only intensified his gazeat the fading cavalcade. A vision of his youthful sufferings flashedthrough his mind, and a mist, closely akin to tears, dimmed his eyes. Hehad learned the lesson that poverty teaches, unaware that the stormwhich rocks also roots the oak, but unable to make the comparison ordraw the inference between surrounding nature and himself. For aninstant the horsemen dipped from view, changing the scene, and a picturerose up, a vision of the future, of independence, of a day when he wouldtake his place as a man among men. The past was beyond his control, itsbridges burned, but the future was worth battling for; and as ifencouraged by invisible helpers, the boy turned his face to the valleyof the Beaver.

  "We'll hold these cattle or starve," said he, unconsciously answeringhis gray-haired sponsor, fading from sight over the last divide. "Holdthem. I can hold them alone."

  "There's no danger of starving," commented Dell, following his brotherinto the tent. "We have provisions for a year."

  "Then we'll hold the herd or freeze," answered Joel, almost hissing thewords--words which became a slogan afterward.

  The cattle drifted back to their chosen range. The late addition mixedand mingled with the others, now attached to the valley, with itsabundance of grass and water. Nothing was said about the first fourhorses, from which the boys understood that they were, at least for thepresent, left in their charge. All told, sixteen horses, fully half ofwhich were fit for saddle, were at the service of the ranch, ample innumber in proportion to the cattle secured.

  It was only the middle of August. An accident, and a little over twomonths' time, had changed the character of the Beaver valley. With nowork pressing, the brothers rode the range, circling farther to the westand south, until any country liable to catch a winter drift becamefamiliar to sight. Northward ho! the slogan of every drover had ceased,and the active trail of a month before had been deserted. The new ranchhad no neighbors, the nearest habitation was on the railroad to thesouth, and the utter loneliness of the plain was only overcome by activework. To those who love them, cattle and horses are good company, and intheir daily rides the lads became so familiar with the herd that in theabsence of brands they could have readily identified every animal byflesh marks alone. Under almost constant contact with the boys, thecattle became extremely gentle, while the calves even grew soindifferent that they reluctantly arose from their beds to avoid apassing horseman.

  The cutting, curing, and garnering home the field of corn was a welcometask. It augmented the forage supply, assuring sustenance to the saddlehorses, an important feature in withstanding the coming winter siege. Anideal fall favored the ranch, the dry weather curing the buffalo grasson the divides, until it was the equal of hay, thus assuring the cattleof ample grazing until spring. The usual squaw winter passed in a swirlof snow, a single angry day, to be followed by a month of splendidIndian summer. Its coming warned the lads; the order for corn wasplaced; once a week the cattle were brought in and corralled, and theranch was made snug against the wintry months.

  The middle of November was as early as the railroad would agree todeliver the corn. It would take three days to go and come, and an equalnumber of round trips would be required to freight the grain from therailroad to the ranch. The corn had been shelled and sacked at elevatorpoints, eastward in the State, and in encouraging emigration therailroad was glad to supply the grain at cost and freightage.

  The hauling fell to Joel. He had placed the order, making a deposit, andidentification was necessary with the agent. On the very first trip toGrinnell, a mere station on the plain, a surprise awaited the earnestboy. As if he were a citizen of the hamlet, and in his usual quiet way,Paul Priest greeted Joel on his arrival. The old foreman had secretlyleft a horse with the railroad agent at Buffalo, where the trailcrossed, had kept in touch with the delivery of corn at stationswestward, and had timed his affairs so as to meet and pay a final visitto his protegees.

  "A battle is sometimes lost by a very slight oversight or accident,"said the man to the boy. "The ammunition may get damaged, slipperyground might prevent the placing of a battery at an opportune moment,or the casting of a horse's shoe might delay a courier with an importantorder. I feel an interest in your little ranch, and when I know thateverything is done that can be done to fortify against the comingwinter, I'll go home feeling better. There is such a thing as killingthe spirit of a soldier, and if I were to let you boys try and fail, itwould affect your courage to face the future. That's the reason I'vedropped off to take a last look at your lines of intrenchment. We've gotto hold those cattle."

  "Mr. Quince thinks we won't, but let the winter come as it may, we'regoing to hold the herd," simply said the boy.

  There was a resolution, an earnestness, in the words of the lad thatpleased the man. "Your Mr. Quince has seen some cold winters on therange," said the latter, "and that's the reason he fears the worst. Butcome as it will, if we do all in our power, put up the best fight in us,and fail, then we are blameless. But with my experience, if I let youfail, when you might have won, then I have done you an injury."

  That was the platform on which men and boys stood, the outline on whichtheir mutual venture must stand or fall, and admitted of no shirking onthe part of any one. The most minute detail, down to a change of cleansaddle blankets, for winter work, must be fully understood. The death ofa horse in which reliance rested, at an unfortunate moment, might meanthe loss of the herd, and a clean, warm blanket on a cold day was themerciful forethought of a man for his beast. No damp, frosty, or frozenblanket must be used on the Wells ranch.

  On the return trip, an early start was made. A night camp was necessary,at the halfway point, the dread of which was robbed of its terrors bythe presence of a veteran of the open. Before leaving the depot, Priestunearthed a number of bundles, "little things that might come in handy,"among which was a sack of salt and two empty oak barrels. The latterprovoked an inquiry from Joel, and an explanation was forced atthe moment.

  "Did you notice a big steer that came in with the last cattle, and whichwas overlooked in branding?" inquired Priest, meeting the boy's querywith a question.

  "A mottled beef, branded 7L?"

  "That's the steer. Why do you reckon we overlooked branding him?"

  "Dell and I thought it was an oversight."

  "When you see what I'm going to do with that salt and these barrels,then you'll see that it was no neglect. That steer has undergone severalNorthern winters, has reached his prime, and the governor's cellar won'thave any better corn beef this winter than the Wells ranch. Seven oreight hundred pounds of pickled beef is an important it
em in the winterintrenchments. In fact, it's an asset to any cow camp. There are so manylittle things that may come in handy."

  The second morning out from the station, Priest bore off on a coursethat would land him well above the grove on the Beaver. He had neverbeen over the range, and not wishing to waste a day with a loaded wagon,he angled away for the sand hills which formed the divide, sloping awayto the branches of the main creek. Noon found him on the south fork;cattle were encountered near the juncture, and as he approached thegrove, a horseman rode out as if to dispute the passage of an intruder.The old foreman noticed the boyish figure and delayed the meeting,reining in to critically examine cattle which he had branded some threemonths before. With diligent intent, the greeting was kept pending, thewayfarer riding away on a tangent and veering back on his generalcourse, until Dell's suspicion was aroused. The return of Priest was sounexpected that the boy's eyes filled with tears, and the two rodealong until the grove was reached, when they dismounted.

  "If I had known that you were coming," said Dell, "I could have madecoffee here. It was so lonesome at the ranch that I was spending the dayamong the cattle."

  "A cowman expects to miss his dinner occasionally," admitted Priest;"that's why they all look so long and hungry. Where does that 7Lsteer range?"

  "The big mottled fellow?--Why, down near the corral," replied the boy,repeating and answering the question.

  "I want to look him over," simply said the old foreman.

  The two remounted and continued down the valley. The noon hour hadbrought the herd in for its daily water, and no animal was overlooked onthe homeward ride. The summer gloss had passed and the hairy, shaggy,winter coats of the cattle almost hid the brands, while three to sixmonths' rest on a perfect range was reflected in the splendid conditionof the general herd.

  "That's one feature of the winter intrenchments that needn't worry us,"said Priest; "the cattle have the tallow to withstand anyordinary winter."

  "And the horses are all rolling fat," added Dell. "They range below theranch; and there isn't a cripple or sore back among them. There's themottled steer."

  They were nearing the last contingent of cattle. Priest gave thefinished animal a single glance, and smiled. "Outsiders say," said he,"that it's a maxim among us Texans never to eat your own beef. The adageis worth transplanting. We'll beef him. The lines of intrenchment areencouraging."

  The latter remarks were not fully understood by Dell, but on the arrivalof the wagon that evening, and a short confidence between the brothers,the horizon cleared. Aside from the salt and barrels, there weresheepskin-lined coats and mittens, boots of heavy felting, flannels overand under, as if the boys were being outfitted for a polar expedition."It may all come in handy," said a fatherly voice, "and a soldier out onsentinel duty ought to be made comfortable. In holding cattle thiswinter, it's part of the intrenchments."

  A cyclone cellar served as a storeroom for the sacked corn. Joel wasaway by early sun-up, on the second trip to the station, while thoseleft behind busied themselves in strengthening the commissary. Thebarrels were made sweet and clean with scalding water, knives wereground, and a crude platform erected for cooling out meat. Dell, on thetip-toe of expectancy, danced attendance, wondering how this quiet manwould accomplish his ends, and unable to wholly restrain his curiosity.

  "Watch me closely," was the usual reply. "You will probably marry young,and every head of a family, on a ranch, ought to know how to cure cornbeef. Give me a week of frosty nights, and the lesson is yours. Watchme closely."

  The climax of the day was felling the beef. Near the middle of theafternoon, the two rode out, cut off a small contingent of cattle,including the animal wanted, and quietly drifted them down to thedesired location. Dell's curiosity had given way to alertness, and whenthe old foreman shook out a rope, the boy instinctively knew that amoment of action was at hand. Without in the least alarming the othercattle, the cast was made, the loop opened in mid-air, settled aroundthe horns, cut fast by a jerk of the rope, and the contest between manand animal began. It was over in a moment. The shade of a willow was thechosen spot, and as the cattle were freed, the steer turned, thehorseman taking one side of the tree and the beef the other, wrappingseveral turns of the rope in circling on contrary courses. The instantthe big fellow quieted, on its coming to a level, a pistol flashed, andthe beef fell in his tracks. That was the programme--to make the kill inthe shade of the willow. And it was so easily done.

  "That's about all we can do on horseback," said the gray-haired Texan,dismounting. "You may bring the knives."

  Every step in the lesson was of interest to Dell. Before dark the beefwas cut into suitable pieces and spread on the platform to drain andcool. During the frosty night following, all trace of animal heat passedaway, and before sunrise the meat was salted into barrels. Thereafter,or until it was drained of every animal impurity, the beef was spread onthe platform nightly, the brine boiled and skimmed, until a perfectpickle was secured. It was a matter of a week's concern, adding to thecommissary two barrels of prime corned beef, an item of no small valuein the line of sustenance.

  The roping of the beef had not been overlooked. "I can't see what madethe loop open for you yesterday," said Dell the next morning; "it won'topen for me."

  Priest took the rope from the boy. "What the tail means to a kite, orthe feather to an arrow," said he, running out an oval noose, "the sameprinciple applies to open the loop of a rope. The oval must have a heavyside, which you get by letting the Hondo run almost halfway round theloop, or double on one side. Then when you make your cast, the lightside will follow the heavy, and your loop will open. In other words,what the feather is to the arrow, the light side is to the heavy, and ifyou throw with force, the loop must open."

  It seemed so easy. Like a healthy boy, Dell had an ambition to be afearless rider and crack roper. During the week which followed, in thesaddle or at leisure, the boy never tired of practicing with a rope,while the patient man called attention to several wrist movements whichlent assistance in forming a perfect loop. The slightest success wasrepeated to perfection; unceasing devotion to a task masters it, andbefore the visit ended, the perfect oval poised in the air and the ropeseemingly obeyed the hand of Dell Wells.

  "It's all right to master these little details of the cattle business,"said Priest to Dell, "but don't play them as lead cards. Keep them upyour sleeve, as a private accomplishment, for your own personal use.These fancy riders and ropers are usually Sunday men. When I make up anoutfit for the trail, I never insist on any special attainments. Just sohe's good natured, and no danger of a rainy night dampening the twinklein his eye, that's the boy for me. Then if he can think a little, actquick, clear, and to the point, I wouldn't care if he couldn't rope acow in a month."

  In considering the lines of resistance, the possibility of annoyancefrom wolves was not overlooked. There was an abundance of suet in thebeef, several vials of strychnine had been provided, and a full gallonof poisoned tallow was prepared in event of its needs. While Joel wasaway after the last load of corn, several dozen wooden holders wereprepared, two-inch auger holes being sunk to the depth of five or sixinches, the length of a wolf's tongue, and the troughs charred andsmoked of every trace of human scent.

  That the boys might fully understand the many details, the finalinstructions were delayed until Joel's return. "Always bear in mind thata wolf is a wary beast," admonished Priest, "and match your cunningagainst his. Make no mistake, take no chances, for you're dealing with acrafty enemy. About the troughs on the ground, surrounding the bait,every trace of human scent must be avoided. For that reason, you musthandle the holder with a spear or hay fork, and if you have occasion todismount, to refill a trough, carry a board to alight on, remembering tolower and take it up by rope, untouched even by a gloved hand. The scentof a horse arouses no suspicion; in fact, it is an advantage, as itallays distrust."

  In loading a bait, an object lesson was given, using unpoisoned suet."After throwing off all suspicion," continued Pr
iest, illustrating theprocess, "the next thing is to avoid an overdose. An overdose acts as anemetic, and makes a wise wolf. For that reason, you must pack the tallowin the auger hole, filling from a half to two thirds full. Force Mr.Wolf to lick it out, administer the poison slowly, and you are sure ofhis scalp. You will notice I have bored the hole in solid wood, toprevent gnawing, and you must pack the suet firmly, to prevent spilling,as a crafty wolf will roll a trough over and over to dislodge the bait.Keep your holders out in the open, exposed to the elements, scald theloading tools before using, and you have the upper hand of any wolvesthat may molest your cattle."

  The trail foreman spent a pleasant two weeks at the Wells ranch. Afterthe corn was in store, the trio rode the range and reviewed everypossible line of defense. Since the winter could not be foreseen, theonly safe course was to anticipate the worst, and barring the burning ofthe range from unseen sources, the new ranch stood prepared to withstanda winter siege. Everything to forefend against a day of stress or trialhad been done, even to instilling courage into youthful hearts.

  "There's only one thing further that comes to mind," said the practicalman, as they rode homeward, "and that is to face an unexpected storm. Ifa change of weather threatens, point your herd to meet it, and then ifyou are caught out, you will have the storm in your back to drift thecattle home. Shepherds practice that rule, and the same applies tocattle under herd."

  All horses were to be left at the new ranch for the winter. Dellvolunteered to accompany their guest to the railroad and bring back theextra mount, thus leaving five of Lovell's horses in possession of theboys. On the day of departure, at breakfast, after a final summary ofthe lines of resistance, the trio dallied about the table, the trailforeman seemingly reluctant to leave.

  "It's a common remark among us drovers," said Priest, toying with hiscoffee cup, "that a cowman is supposed to do his sleeping in the winter.But the next few months you boys must reverse that rule. Not that youneed to deny yourselves abundant rest, but your vigilance should neversleep. Let your concern for the herd be the first and last thought ofthe day, and then I'll get my beauty sleep this winter. The unforeseenmay happen; but I want you to remember that when storms howl theloudest, your Mr. Quince and I will be right around the bend of thecreek, with our ear to the ground, the reserves, listening to the goodfight you boys are making. Of course you could call the reserves, butyou want the glory of the good fighting and the lust of victory, all toyourselves. That's the way I've got you sized up--die rather than showthe white feather. Come on, Dell; we're sleeping in the summer."