to Tame a Land (1955) (2 page)

Old Blue seemed to know what I was about. He walke d real light and easy on the grass, his ears pricked up. H
e could smell the smoke, and from the uneasy feel of hi m between my knees, I knew he could smell Indian.

After a while I got down and tied Old Blue. Then I c rept along, all bent over, and got up close.

They had a fire that was almost dead, and I coul d see their horses off to one side. They were all asleep, expecting nothing. I could see four oxen still standing, s o they had only eaten two, or most of two.

Take white men a week to eat an ox, but not Indians.

They gorged themselves one day, starved the next; tha t was the way of it. Well, one or more had eaten all he wa s ever going to.

First off I crawled around to where their ponies were.

Working up close through the grass, I got up and walke d casual-like among them. Maybe because of that, mayb e because I was just a boy, they didn't fret much until I ha d my hand on a tie rope. Then one of them blew lou d through his nostrils.

And when he done that, I slashed the picket ropes wit h my pocket knife, first one, then another. Then I yelle d and two of the horses done what I'd hoped. They ran ful l tilt into that Indian camp. I held my fire until I sa w Indians scrambling up, and then I shot.

I shot three times as fast as I could trigger that Joslyn.

Then I hauled out my old Shawk & McLanahan .36 and , running up close, I fired three times more.

Two Indians were down, one of them holding his belly.

Another was staggering with a bullet through his leg. Bu t that was enough. I turned and got out of there almight y fast. When I was a distance away, I circled around to Ol d Blue.

Once in the saddle, I headed off across country. Twic e I came up to Indian ponies from the bunch I'd stampede d and started them moving again.

All night I rode on, heading west along the trac k of the wagons. Come day, I found a place high on a hil l where there was a sort of hollow. I picketed Old Blu e and stretched out on my back.

The sun woke me up, shining right in my face. I go t up on Old Blue again and headed west. Next day I kille d a buffalo calf. Here and there I found some wild onions , and I ate the buffalo meat without salt.

It was like that for a week. Finally I got so I rod e mostly at night, using the stars to travel by, as Pap ha d shown me. Indians don't travel by night much, and the y don't like night fighting, so it was safer. By day I'd hole u p and keep out of sight. Twice I saw Indians, but not u p close, and none of them saw me.

Twice I found burned wagons, but they were old fire s of wagons burned long ago.

I rode west. I saw the grass plains left behind and hig h mountains roll up, and sometimes I saw buffalo, and lot s of antelope. I was sparing of my ammunition, and I neve r tried any long shots. Usually I'd work in close and try t o cut out a buffalo calf. The old cows were mighty fractious , and sometimes I'd kill one of them, usually with th e pistol, at close range.

But there was meat, and there were always onions. Onc e I caught me a mess of fish and fried them in buffalo fa t for my meal.

There were beaver streams, and more and more trees o n the mountains, and the country became rougher.

It was two weeks before I caught up with the wago n train, even though I could travel faster than they. Tw o weeks because I'd taken time out to hunt for grub, an d because they had a good two-day start on me. Also, I wa s riding mighty careful. I didn't want my hair hanging i n no Arapaho wickiup.

When at last I saw the wagon train it was in Sout h Pass. Old Blue carried me down out of the hills and I too k him at a lope across the grassy valley that lies betwee n the Sweetwater Mountains and the Wind River Range.

The wagons stretched out, white and long, the horseme n rode alongside, and a lump came up in my throat when I t hought of Pap and his wagon. He could have been here , too, if they'd stopped to wait. Right then I hated every on e of them, but most of all I hated Big Jack McGarry.

It was Bagley I saw first. His face went kind of whit e when he saw me. "Rye!" he said. "Where's your Pap?"

Wagons drew up and several riders started toward me.

McGarry started back from the head of the wagon train.

"He's dead," I told them, tears starting into my eyes.

"He's dead, and you all killed him. You could hav e waited."

"Waited? Where?" Bagley was angry. "Risk our families? What you talkin' of, boy?"

"McGarry said you'd wait at the springs. He told Pa p that. We got to the springs right quick, and you all didn'
t even stop."

There was a slim, wiry man in buckskins setting a blac k horse there, and he looked at me. "Boy, are you sure Bi g Jack promised to wait at the springs?"

"I'm damn sure!"

Big Jack came up then and pushed his horse throug h the circle. "Here! What's this? You're holdin' up the .. .

Oh, it's you."

You didn't need to look close to see he wasn't happ y to see me. His face showed mighty plain that he had neve r expected us to come through . . . and only one of us had.

The slim man in buckskins looked over at Big Jack.

"Jack, the boy says you told his pap you'd wait at th e springs."

"He lies!" McGarry said angrily. "The boy lies. I tol d him nothing of the kind."

"You did so." I put my hand on my Shawk & McLanahan. "You say I lie and I'll shoot you sure."

The man in the buckskins shook his head at me. "Si t quiet, boy. We'll get the straight of this." He turned bac k to McGarry. "I never did understand why we passed u p the sweetest water in a hundred miles. It was early to stop , but with that wagon left behind . . .?"

"I told him no such thing! What would I do that for?"

"Because Pap wasn't afeared of you. And because yo u were shinin' up to Mary Tatum."

That man hated me. I could see it in his hard littl e eyes. "Boy, you shet that mouth! You shet up or I'll bliste r your hide!"

"You'll blister no hides, McGarry. You've a question o r two to answer." The man in buckskins turned and looke d at Mary Tatum. "Ma'am, I reckon we all know McGarry'
s been wantin' to court you. You been talkin' with him some.

Did you set out with him so much when Tyler was wit h us?"

Mary was a right pretty girl and she had spunk. I knowe d Pap set a sight of store by her, and he had asked me onc e what I'd think of her as a mother. I told him that seein g as how my own ma was buried back East, there was nobody I'd like better.

Now she lifted her chin and said quietly, "I was thinkin g a lot about Mr. Tyler. He was a good man and an hones t man. I believe he was in love with me."

"I know he was," I said.

She looked at me, her gray eyes wide and full. The n she said quietly, "I am a single girl and I want a husband.

I hoped to marry Ralph Tyler. I have never even considered marrying Jack McGarry, and will not now."

McGarry's face went red, then white. He started t o speak.

The man in buckskins interrupted. "We don't know th e straight of this, and I reckon we'll never know exactly. I f you told him we'd wait at the springs, we should hav e waited. We should have stopped there, anyway. I wondere d why we didn't. I think you're guilty."

I expected McGarry to grab for his gun, but he didn't.

There was something about that slender man that didn'
t look very safe.

A solidly built man in a black coat and flat black ha t spoke up. "We'll be having an election. We'll be wantin g a new captain."

Big Jack McGarry looked over at me and there wa s nothing nice in his eyes. He looked mighty mean.

Mary Tatum saw it, and she walked over to my horse.

"Rye," she said gently, "I'm very sorry about Ralph. Wil l you ride with us now?"

"No, ma'am," I said, "but I thank you. I don't figure t o stay with this outfit." I looked over at Bagley. "There'
s some folks here won't feel right as long as I'm about."

"But, Rye, you're only a boy!" she protested.

"I killed me three Indians," I said. "I've come acros s the plains these last days all by myself. I'll go on b y myself."

She smiled at me. "All right, Rye, but will you eat wit h us this night?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be obliged."

It was mighty good, setting up to a civilized meal again.

Mary Tatum was a wonderful cook, and she even manage d some cookies, and most of them she gave to me. Nigh t came, and when I got my buffalo robe she brought m e blankets from her own wagon.

"Ma'am," I said, "I'd have liked it, having you for a ma."

She put her hand on my head then and pulled it agains t her, and I guess I cried,' though I ain't much to bra g on that.

That shamed me, the crying did. When I got to my fee t I was some taller than Mary, and I brushed those tear s away, and felt worse about crying than anything else.

So I took my blankets and went away to the edge of th e circle and started to spread them out.

Something moved out there in the dark, and I took ou t my Shawk & McLanahan, for those two weeks had put m e on edge. Whoever was out there went away.

The next morning when I was saddling up, Big Jac k McGarry. came by. He looked down at me and his eye s were mighty mean. "Figure you're a big man now, don'
t you? I'll slap some of that out of you!"

Right then I was some scared, but the pistol was in m y belt and I knew if he started for me I'd pull iron. I didn'
t want to, but I would.

"You got my pap killed," I told hint, "just like yo u figured on. If he was here you'd not talk about whuppin'
m e. I notice you never tried to come it over him."

He started his horse at me and raised his quirt, an d just about that time a gun clicked behind me and I hear d a voice say, "Go ahead, hit him. This wagon train can wai t long enough to bury a man."

McGarry sat there with his quirt raised up and had th e look of a fool.

It was that slim man in the buckskin shirt. He had a six-shooter in his hand and he was not fooling. "McGarry,"
h e said, "if anything happens to that boy while I'm wit h this wagon train, even if it's an out-and-out accident. I'l l kill you."

McGarry lowered his quirt and rode off to the hea d of the column. Only he was not there officially any more.

They had voted him out of the captain's job.

The man in the buckskin shirt walked over to me an d looked at me thoughtfully. "Boy," he said, "you're might y young to be packin' a gun, but you'd better keep it handy."

All right, sir."

"My name is Logan Pollard." He studied me a minute.

"Tell me what happened back there. When your fathe r was killed."

So for the first time I told the whole story.

He questioned me right sharp, then he knocked out hi s pipe and told me, quiet-like, "You'll do, boy. But don't us e that gun unless you have to."

He went away then, and the next morning when th e column moved out he came by on horseback. He motione d me to follow and I went with him and we rode out awa y from the wagons.

It wasn't until we were over the hill that he said, "We'l l get an antelope or two, and we'll start your educatio n same time."

"I can read. I been to school."

"Not that kind of education." He looked at me fro m that narrow brown face that never seemed to smile. "Th e kind you'll need. I'm going to teach you how to rea d sign, how to tell an Indian's tribe from his moccasins, an d where to find game. Also, how to use that gun. I'm goin g to teach you things you need to know. So don't think o f riding off by yourself just yet."

We rode on a ways farther, and then he drew up, indicating a plant about four feet high. It had a prickly look , with sort of white flowers shading off to violet.

"Indian thistle," he said, "and the roots will keep a man alive if there's nothing else to eat. Don't forget it."

He rode on, leading the way, pointing out things as w e rode. Toward evening we circled back and we had tw o antelope.

"Back home," he said, "we had almost two thousan d books. I read most of them. But this," he swept his ar m wide to take in the country, "this is the book I like best.

You can always learn. There's always something ne w on the page."

When he left me, he said, "Don't despise the Indian.

He's lived here a long time, lived well. Learn from him."

Chapter
3

THE SECOND DAY it was different. That morning h e came for me right after the wagons started, but we rod e fast, rode on ahead. As we rode, he told me things. The y were things to remember, and Pollard did no aimless talking.

"Stalking a deer," he said, "you remember you ca n move as long as he hai his head down, feeding. Just before he looks up he'll start to switch his tail. Stop movin g then and stand right still, or sink down and wait unti l he starts to feed again.