The Trail Driver by Zane Grey

Author:Zane Grey
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781634500753
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing
Published: 2016-09-24T04:00:00+00:00

Brite’s outfit of drivers went on, prepared for the worst. And again they had days of uneventful driving. At Bolivar, a buffalo camp, the Chisholm Trail split, the right fork heading straight north to Abiline, and the left cutting sharply to the northwest. The Abiline branch was the longer and safer; the Dodge branch the shorter, harder and more hazardous, but ended in the most profitable market for cattle and horses.

“Brite, do yu reckon yu can find oot which fork Hite took? A coupla drinks will do it. Shore this ootfit heah might be just as bad as Hite’s. All the rustlers an’ hawse thieves call themselves hide-hunters.”

“Yu go, Tex. I’ll lend yu my flask,” replied the boss.

“All right. Come with me, Pan Handle,” replied Texas.

“Let me go, too,” spoke up Reddie.

“What!—Why yu want to go?”

“I’d like to see somebody. I’m tired of all yu cross men.”

“Ahuh. Yu want to meet some new men? Wal, it’s nix on thet. The Brite ootfit wants to hang on to yu, seein’ we done it so far.”

The afternoon was not far spent and camp had been selected on a stream that ran on into Bolivar, some little distance east. There was a beautiful big swale for the stock to graze on without strict guarding. It was the second best site so far on the drive. The stream was lined with trees that hid the camp from the little settlement. Brite proposed to Reddie that they go fishing. This brought smiles to the girl’s discontented face. Whereupon Brite procured fishing lines and hooks from his bag, and cutting poles, proceeded to rig them while Moze was instructed to get grubs, worms, or grasshoppers for bait.

Then followed a happy and a successful hour for Brite. Reddie was a novice, but wildly enthusiastic and excruciatingly funny. The climax of this little adventure came when Reddie hooked a heavy catfish which not only could she not hold, but that was surely pulling her down the bank on the stout line and pole. She was thoroughbred enough not to let go, but she yelled lustily for help. It was one of Brite’s rules never to aid a fisherman; in this instance, however, he broke it and helped Reddie hold the big fish until it became exhausted. They landed it, and adding it to their already respectable string, hurried back to camp in triumph. Moze was delighted. “I sho’s glad of dis. Yu-all beat the niggahs fishin’. Mebbe a change from dat meat will be good.”

Before supper was ready Texas Joe and Pan Handle returned, to Brite’s great relief.

“Wal, boss, Hite took the Dodge trail yestiddy aboot noonday,” said Texas, cheerfully. “He’s ahaid of us right smart, but accordin’ to them buff hunters he’ll be stuck in no time.”

“Wal, thet’s good news, I guess,” replied Brite, dubiously. “What yu mean—stuck?”

“Wal, if nothin’ else stops Hite the buffalo shore will.”

“Then they’ll stop us, too.”

“We don’t give a damn so long’s we get our cattle back. Thet Hite deal shore went against the grain for me.

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