McAllister 1 by Matt Chisholm

Author:Matt Chisholm
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: peter watts, piccadilly publishing, matt chisholm, american western cattle drive, cowboy and western fiction, rem mcallister, tales of the old west adventures, texas brasada and colorado, the comanche crossing, the old west ebooks
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Ten

WHEN SOME OF the excitement at finding the two white girls had died down, we started to settle down again as a cow-crew. We took a good look at ourselves and saw us for what we were—a few Texas boys, dressed up as cattlemen and pushing cows across a desert where there was not much of anything but thirst and a bunch of Indians that wanted our blood.

Now I look back on it all, I know I find it exciting, even romantic, especially when the two girls joined us, but while it was happening there was not a darn thing that was nice about it. Reality is often that way. Strung out guarding the cows made us vulnerable enough, but now we had the girls to worry about as well it just about stretched us to breaking point. Ten times a day I watched McAllister throw the wagon worried looks, willing old Smith to keep close to the herd. Any idea of his pushing ahead to prepare the next meal for our coming was out of the question. We all stuck together from there on.

Now there’s an old legend that says Indians don’t like attacking at night. Sure they don’t. Nor do white men. For one thing you can’t see what you’re doing. The only good time to jump the enemy is at dawn, so that you can rush them in poor light and reach them in good. While there was a chance the Comanches might attack under cover of dark, we still thought the most dangerous time was dawn. That first night we pushed the cows along, but not too hard, stopped at dawn so that we were ready for anything the Indians might have ready for us, then once more pushed on till we found ourselves caught in the heat of the day. It was not the ideal way to move cows, but it was the best we could think of under the circumstances. We covered about seventeen miles that night, which was good. At dawn we stood to, thinking the Indians may have gained ground on us in the night, for there had been enough moonlight to follow the broad plain trail of the cattle. But nothing happened. We pushed on another mile or two, came to meager water and stopped.

We had to get the spades to that miserable water-hole, but it was better than nothing. At least every animal there got some kind of a drink.

The two girls seemed to have stood up to the rough travel pretty well. I guess they wouldn’t be grumbling about anything for a while, they were so glad to be free again. We rigged up a shelter for them and the crew watched their language while we all ate a meal together.

I stood guard on the camp and McAllister pulled on his moccasins and circled the camp wide in search for Indians. He was so long gone, I started to wonder what had happened to him. He came back looking grim and I didn’t have to ask him if he’d found sign.

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