Chapter 6

Edited November 18, 2024

“Take back the herd, just the two of us? There must be twenty five or thirty of them!” Billy exclaimed.

“Nah! There won’t be near that many by the time you catch up to me! Ever see what a man who knows how to use it can do with a Sharps? They won’t like what’s going to happen to them. Not at all! And tell the girls to stay in the canyon.”

We both mounted up and took off in opposite directions. About fifteen minutes later I came upon the camp, and found Jimmy’s body. I wrapped him in some blankets and dug a grave just deep enough to keep varmits out. I placed a saddle on top as a marker so we can dig him back up later and lay him to rest in the canyon. I found some hardtack and jerked beef in his saddlebags, along with a couple of almost full canteens, and some more ammunition. I found his, or Amos’ Winchester laying on the ground so I brought that along also. Then Sam and I rode north following the trampled earth and grass that was a fresh indication of the direction those bastards had taken. It shouldn’t take too long to catch up with them.

About an hour and a half later I could hear my cattle lowing. It’s kind of a mournful sound, I felt that it was appropriate. I rode to the west almost a mile then turned north again, riding a little faster. After forty five minutes I slowed and turned to the east for about half a mile. This should put me in front and about a half mile from their line of travel. Unless they have changed direction, that is. It also gave me the sun at my back, they would be highlighted, making them very good targets. I don’t have to worry about reflections off of my scope giving my location away. I rode to the top of the nearest hill and ground tied Sam, basically I dropped the reins and told him to stay. I gathered some sandie dirt into my bag I used as a barrel rest. Keepin mostly on the far side of the hill from where they would be coming. Setting a box of twenty cartridges next to me, I focused on the top of the hill opposite me. It was about three quarters of a mile away. The wind was out of the south and was moderate to light. I was shooting slightly west of south, the wind might degrade the flight of the bullet somewhat. I made adjustments in the scope for that.

Twenty minutes later the first of the cattle along with two of the rustlers, one on each side of the herd, came over the top of the hill. Slowly more and more cattle and a few more men started down from the top of the hill. Why so few men? Then it hit me. They were probably doing the same thing I did when traveling, if half of them could drive the herd the rest could split up and be outriders and could be coming up behind me any time now! I quickly gathered my stuff, jumped on Sam and rode north after a mile of staying off the tops of hills and keeping mostly in the valley. I found a good high hill and settled into my shooting position. Not even five minutes later a group of six riders rode over the top of a hill half mile away. Had I stayed where I had been they would have gotten me. I watched as they rode down the hill and met a group of another six riders coming from the east. They stopped to palather, I was looking through the scope when three riders lined up. I’m not going to miss an opportunity like that. Adjusting for all the variables I gently pulled the first trigger, then the second, as usual the firing was a surprise. This close, the bullet only took two seconds to travel, hitting the first guy in the head, the second in the throat and the third in the chest. All three were permanently out of the fight. By that time the second round was on its way toward a pair that lined up. They obligingly stayed in the same position, and with the same result. I shot once more, taking out another one. Then I gathered up my gear, jumped on Sam and rode down the hill and around another certain that the other six would be in pursuit. I had noticed that one of the survivors was an Indian, that most likely meant that he could track. He would have to be my next target. I didn’t run far, around the end of a hill then up to the top and set up my ambush. They were bunched up coming down the hill, running their horses as fast as they could go. I hate killing horses, I really do. But this was just too good. Aiming at the head of the lead horse I fired. That horse fell dead in the path of three other horses, they couldn’t avoid hitting each other and the lead dead horse. Before the other two riders could react I was able to take them out too. Just them, I spared the horses. I carefully approached the carnage ready to react to any threat. Two horses were still living but in pain, I relieved them of it. All six men were dead, broken necks being the leading cause.

I searched pockets and saddlebags for valuables. Weapons were gathered and evaluated, smashing the stocks of worthless rifles, keeping the rest. I saw a group of cottonwoods down by a stream. Taking the good weapons there I found a hiding place for them. It was getting close to evening, I gathered up the horses that survived and rode back toward the herd.

They had bedded the herd down in a small valley with a stream for water and plenty of grass. Three men were riding slowly around, one of them singing, keeping the herd calm. The rest of them were upstream of the herd, they were fixing supper from my chuck wagon. They had a nice fire going. Somebody could cook, the beans smelled good. As I watched I counted, there were twelve in camp plus the cook and the three riding the herd. That’s sixteen total, but I noticed that several of the rustlers were giving the cook a hard time. The food smelled too good to be bothering him, does that mean he’s not one of them? I watched for a while, waiting for three new riders to relieve those that were out there now. Finally about twelve o’clock three men in camp started outfitting their horses. Wearing my moccasins, I crept up on the closet one, my Bowie knife found his throat, he died silently as I helped him to the ground. I put on his hat then hid his body, mounting his horse, hunched over because he hadn’t been very big. Joining the other two but keeping separate we relieved the other three. As we rode I slowed down and let the closest rider catch up, like I wanted to talk for a second. He too died silently, keeping him on his horse. I led it to the stream and tied it to a cottonwood branch. I was waiting in the shadows of the trees for the other cowboy to arrive. I was off of my horse (not Sam) when he rode up and asked what was going on, I mumbled that I was taking a piss. When he couldn’t understand me he leaned down and joined his brethren in the afterlife, hopefully a very hot uncomfortable place.

I stealthily crept back to the camp. The only guard was staring into the fire, I kept his body in line with the fire so it couldn’t affect my night vision. He didn’t have any, he couldn’t hear either, Mr. Bowie did his job again, I carefully moved him to the stream. I quickly went around the camp making their sleep the permanent kind. I know, pretty cold hearted, but I would rather die in my sleep than hang while awake. They were going to end up in the same place anyway. That led me to the man sleeping under the chuck wagon, I noticed he was tied up so I nudged him with my foot.

He turned his head and whispered “Who the hell are you?”

“I own every one of those cows down there. What is more important is who the hell you are. Are you one of these rustlers?”

“Oh hell yes, I have my partners tie me up every fucking night so I can get to sleep! You must have shit for brains boy! Untie me!”

“Well that’s not the right way to talk to the man who pays your wages! I’ve a mind to just leave you as you are, and add a rag to your filthy mouth to boot!”

“Hey, aren’t you worried about these outlaws hearing you?”

“Nope, the only worry they are doing is which house their souls will end up in. My bet is the lower one.”

“I didn’t hear anything!”

“I’m quiet when I need to be!”

I cut him loose and retrieved Sam and the other horses. Then rode herd on the cattle until dawn. I talked to the cook whose name is Rufus Boggs, a former slave on a plantation in Georgia. He was educated and could read, write, and do his math.

As he cooked I asked “Did these guys talk about what they were going to do with all these bovines?”

“They talked a lot in front of me, I figured I was going to get permanently retired before we reached the fort.”

“The fort? Which fort?”

“Fort Riley, it’s north of Junction City and has been there since”53 “. They are paying top dollar for beef on the hoof so they can ship them up to the other Forts to the north and west. A man by the name of Black Bart is the big boss man.”

“Not anymore, Bart beat them to their final destination by two weeks. But why were they headed almost due north? If it’s north of Junction City it would be northwest of here.”

“For two reasons, one there is a very good ford in the river, shallow with a solid rock bottom, second they figure word will be out about the theft, they were going to change the brands, then come from the east to lay off any suspicions.”

“Do you know of any cowboys who could help with the herd? I want to separate them, and send the best ones back to Canyon Hills and take the rest to Fort Riley.”

“I do know some very good cowboys that can’t find jobs up here and there aren’t any jobs back in Texas either. The only thing is, they’re all black!”

“Rufus, I don’t give a damn what color they are, as long as they can do the work they’ll make the same amount of pay as any other man. How many men, and when can you get them here?”

“There’s fifteen of them about a day’s ride from here, but some of them have families. Can they come too?”

I gave him the saddlebags I had collected from the dead earlier. It totaled $163.40. We went through the personals of the dead in camp, including the ones that had been riding the herd on night watch. That brought the total to $485.20.

“How long will it take to get them all back here? I don’t know where they could spend it, but use this money to help them however they need it.”

“Give us three days, we should be able to make it by then. If not I’ll come back and tell you why it’s taking longer.”

“Sounds good, I’m expecting Billy any time now, we’ll stay here and start sorting the herd until you get back here. Get going and I’ll see you soon.”

I handed him the reins to a nice looking gelding that I had outfitted with the best saddle and bridle of the bunch. They must have belonged to the ramrod of the gang, the matching saddlebags had yielded $150 of the money collected. I gave him those and he transferred the money into it and then gathered up some food and clothing. I found a handgun and holster that were like new along with a Winchester rifle.

“You had better take these too! Better to have them if you need them, than to need them and not have them!”

He buckled the holster and placed the rifle in the scabbard, tied the saddlebags on. Then he mounted, waved goodbye and took off.

It would be a lie if I were to say I didn’t think about Rufus just absconding with the horse and money, a man could live for a long time with that much money. But I liked the man, I figured I would be seeing him in three days.

Checking the cattle I found that they were drifting a little but for the most part we’re staying close to one another. They were just seeking fresh grass.

I gathered all of the weapons found on the bodies, knives, handguns, and some holdout guns. Ammunition was piled together by type, holsters, clothing, shaving kits, boots, belts, and hats were gathered together. Maybe some of the people Rufus was bringing could use them. If not, I’m sure someone else could. The better things could be sold. I thought then that I should document what had happened here, and find out who these outlaws were. So I made a travois and collected all of the bodies in one place, with good light and each laying on a slope that would allow faces to be clearly visible. Maybe some of them had a bounty on them.

I had just gathered the horses when Billy rode up, and behind him were my girls in the wagon. As I began setting up my camera and light diffusers, the girls started picking out horses, then tack, so they could become cowgirls and help manage the herd.

At lunch I told them about Rufus and that he went to get some help from some black cowboys he knew about. I asked bluntly if anyone was going to have a problem with that. No one did.

After lunch I began taking photographs of the dead, gastley as it was, I was thankful that no one had invented color photography. I then developed and produced the paper photographs. The bodies were placed in a ravine three miles away and left to rot, or be scavenged.

We then started culling the herd, teaching the girls how to sit a quarter horse. The horse does almost all the work once you show what animal you want separated from the herd. The rider has to be able to stay in the saddle as the horse makes quick and sometimes violent movements in order to accomplish that task. They practiced until they became used to it. We were still at it, when two days later a group of wagons and people on horseback rode into camp. Rufus was leading them. There were four wagons that I thought would have made better firewood than wagons. On each was a man driving and a woman seated beside him, children from babies held by the mother to twelve years old were gawking at us from under the bench seat, or behind Mama’s shoulders. All together there were twelve or so youngsters, the canyon was about to get lively.

Everyone pitched in and we helped them set up camp. The cowboys could pick a horse and get a saddle and tack from the piles, hats, boots and weapons were shared as well. We had a very happy group of people, they had plenty of food, and perhaps more importantly a new sense of pride. They had jobs, new clothes, new (to them) tack and saddles, a spare horse even. Their families were going to a safe place. They had been starving, now they had plenty and might have a secure future. Seeking out Rufus we conspired to have a celebration that night. A pit was dug, a steer slaughtered and spitted and was soon being slow cooked over the hot coals of a fire. Potato salad was made, bread baked and other vegetables prepared. That evening we had a feast. We learned everyone’s names and some of their stories.

The stories were different in many ways, but the core of all of them was the same. All the adults and a couple of the older kids had been born as slaves. Their parents had been slaves. They had known nothing else, most were uneducated and had been field hands, two of the women had been maids. One had been the master’s bedroom slave. After being emancipated at the end of the war, they no longer were wanted, they had no skills and no one, not even the northern abolitionist wanted them in their towns. They went west, mostly walking but finding discarded wagons, old worn out horses or mules. They would find odd jobs here and there, but were always encouraged to move on. They had hoped and prayed that Kansas, Bloody Kansas where abolitionists fought the pro slavery people and people had died to make it a free state. Kansas would be different, but it wasn’t, one of the older men had been caught and slowly hanged by a faction of the Ku Klux Klan. A twelve year old girl was brutally raped and killed by five white men. Yes it was still Bloody Kansas for black people! They had been camped for three months at the location Rufus found them. He knew about them from stories told about them mostly by white men. He had stretched the truth when he called them cowboys, but we would teach them. Most of the money had gone into purchasing some good horses and low quality tack.

The next morning we began training our soon to be cowboys, I let Billy do most of the training, as a cowboy I’m an excellent photographer. Billy was hesitant at first, he had never been around black people before. But he, and they, soon realized that they weren’t really that different at all, soon friendships developed and everyone benefited. It took another week to get most of the strays then we finished separating the herd. Five hundred sixty five were to go to Fort Riley. The remaining five hundred thirty were to go back to Canyon Hills Ranch. While we were dividing them we checked to make absolutely sure that they had a Canyon Hills Ranch brand. Those that had no brand were branded, those that had a different brand were driven off.

We divided the cowboys, all of those with families and the cowboys that had less aptitude for the job went with Billy back to the ranch. The girls wanted to come with me, so Rufus as cook and the rest of the cowboys came with me as we slowly drove the cattle north to the ford on the Kansas river southwest of the town of Manhattan. We didn’t have any problems, the ford was as advertised, shallow with a solid rock bottom. We turned west toward the fort.

Evidently word had gotten out that a herd was headed for Fort Riley and all the drovers were black (I refuse to use the “N” word). And being black, the cattle would be practically free for the taking. They assumed that these black cowboys would be poorly armed, and wouldn’t be able to hit the side of a barn if they shot at you. But they had excellent weapons, and I taught all twelve of them how to shoot and we practiced and practiced some more, until all of them could hit the target ten times out of ten shots with a rifle and with a handgun. They were particularly driven when I explained that most likely they would be shooting at white outlaws.

So when a group of men attacked our camp one morning they were the ones who were surprised when not only black men were killing them but white women. All eight potential rustlers died. We collected $75.75 in cash, eight horses, saddles and tack, eight rifles, and ten revolvers. Everything except the cash were in various conditions. No one on our side was injured.

As we slowly moved toward the fort we had three more attempts at stealing our cattle. Each one failed, all of the outlaws died. I took their pictures, faces clearly visible. I also took photographs of the entire group of cowboys and cowgirls, making sure that each person was identified by their full name. We arrived at Fort Riley late morning two weeks after we left the camp where we first met.

At the gates to the fort, I met with Major Bernard S. Newman. I showed him the cattle which were in good shape, healthy and well fed. He agreed to a price of $30 a head, but he would not let my cowboys inside the fort. For $15,000 I didn’t care. Now we need to get to Junction City and my bank with the money. This was only ten miles, which would take us under two hours, but everyone who could do the math would know how much money we would be carrying. It was a small fortune to people who were on average making under $3,300 a year. Even honest people might think twice about the opportunity.

We left quickly, after having a conference about the dangers and formed a plan. Moving as fast as possible was the key. So we followed the plan. Half the men would be outriders staying a half to quarter mile from the wagon. The money was in my safe which is hidden under the wagon box floor. We started out of town, gradually increasing speed to a pace just under a trot. Bert and Ernie could keep this up all day, so if needed, they could go faster. The girls were in the back rifles and shotguns ready, cotton stuffed in their ears.

A tree fell across the road before we had gone a mile, our escort rider’s immediately left the road to the left and right circling out in front to trap the would-be robbers, the outriders would come in at the sound of the first gunshot.

Three men stepped out in front of the mules as I came to a stop. They were holding shotguns cradled in one arm with the hand of the other gripping the buttstock close to the trigger. At least four other men were off the road on the right side.

“Give us the money and your women and we’ll let you go!” He demanded. Giving the lie to his statement, they weren’t wearing masks. I hit the lever unlocking the seat back and I rolled into the box onto my bed. The girls in front opened gunports and killed two of them, Bert’s head was in the way. Bullets began hitting the wagon, other than ruining my paint job none made it into the box. The guards and outriders came in and ended the fight killing them all. We searched the bodies quickly and pulled the tree off of the road. The outriders collected the horses.

The second try happened at almost the halfway point. We had to go up a steep hill. The guards dropped back behind the box, dismounted and three to a side started climbing up the hill on foot stealthily. I slowed the mules giving them more time to move. A man stepped into the road and held up his hand signaling for me to stop. Instead I yelled and whipped the reins onto the mules butts they lunged and I rolled into the box, I heard the screams of the guy as the mules ran over him. Firing came from both sides this time we were firing back with rifles and shotguns. Once the guards opened up from behind them eleven men lay dead. Once again we searched them and collected anything that was valuable. The outriders found their horses and brought them along.

The third attempt was the largest, fifteen men surrounded the wagon demanding the money and the women. The girls didn’t like the demands and began shooting. Eight men died in the first volley. I pulled my cross draw Colt and killed two, the guards got a couple and the outriders shot the other three. We, once again, searched and recovered all of the valuables. Their horses were found and joined the others.

We rode into Junction City with thirty three horses, thirty three saddles, bridles, and thirty three pairs of saddlebags, thirty rifles, three shotguns, forty five handguns and fifty knives. And after we counted all of it $480 dollars in gold and silver coins. We stopped at the Sheriff’s Office and asked Lon to go visit each attempt site and see if he recognized anyone. After some pulling handbills out and adding up the bounties he would be giving us a voucher for $1,200. Hell, at this rate maybe we should run it again tomorrow! And we haven’t sold anything yet.

The next stop was the bank. As we drove up I was looking around, there were a lot of people in town on a weekday. I noticed some unsavory types scattered but close to the bank. I warned the girls to pass the word that one more attempt was about to be made. And to be careful of innocent people. Tyra passed me an empty bag that I pretended was very heavy. I climbed down from the wagon seeing the robbers start to walk towards the bank. A nicely dressed man poked a gun into my back and told me to drop the bag, I then turned enough to shoot him with the hideout gun mechanism. As I turned I swept the gun away from me, he fired into the door frame of the bank. All hell broke loose as the scruffy looking people started drawing guns. As soon as they did, my girls began shooting them. The shooting stopped, townspeople were laying on the sidewalk, hopefully not dead or wounded. Then I saw a man holding a teenage girl in front of him with his pistol pointed at her head.

“Bring me the bag! Bring it to me or this girl dies!” He demanded.

I picked up the bag, once again pretending it weighed about twenty pounds. Carefully stepping over people as I slowly made my way to him.

“Mister, you can have the gold, it’s not worth a girl’s life! Just take it easy and I’ll give it to you!” I said as calmly as I could.

Now I was standing in front of the girl by about eighteen inches. I held out the bag with my right hand, as he reached for it with his left hand, I dropped it. Simultaneously my left hand shot out, grabbing the gun with my little finger between the hammer’s firing pin and the frame and rear of the bullet casing. The rest of my fingers grabbed the cylinder and the rest of the frame moving it up away from the girl’s head. With my right hand I hit him just as hard as I could in the throat. He pulled the trigger and it hurt when the firing pin crunched down on my little finger but it didn’t break the skin. He let go of the gun to grab his throat, that wasn’t going to help him he was already dead he just didn’t know it. About then a kid grabbed the bag and took off. I just laughed! People started to get up when they realized the shooting was over, the good news was that everybody that was supposed to get up did. Only the outlaws were left laying down and still.

One lady asked why I had laughed when the boy stole the bag with $15,000 of gold in it, I told her it was because the bag was empty. She said all these people died because of an empty bag. But it was very real to them, and if they won, I’d be dead but they still wouldn’t have had the money. Funny how life is.

We all went into the bank, some of the looks the tellers gave my cowboys pissed me off. When the bank manager came out he started to say something that he would regret, so before he said anything I told him and the rest of the people in the bank,

“These men are my cowboys, they work for me and they have repeatedly fought with me to keep what is mine from being stolen. Anybody that makes a disparaging remark to these gentlemen will answer to me. If any bank employee says something not only will they have to deal with me but the bank will lose their biggest depositor and like I did with the General Store I will start a new bank offering 1% greater return on savings and 3% less interest on loans. Now does anyone have anything to say?”

A woman whom I had seen in church replied in a haughty tone of voice “You can’t control the way we think, young man!”

“Mrs. Jones, I’ve seen you in church. Do you feel the same way about Jews?” “Why yes, I do! The only decent people are white!”

“Don’t you know that Jesus Christ himself was a Jew and that Christianity didn’t begin until three hundred years after his death and resurrection! So what does that make you?” Then I ignored her.

Turning to the bank manager I stated, “I want to deposit three hundred fifty dollar gold pieces into my main ranch account then I want you to establish accounts of one thousand dollars for this list of names!” I handed him a list of twenty names and a photograph of them so that they could be identified by more than an “X” as a signature. “Draws on these accounts can be made by the General Store beginning today! We will return in an hour to give our signatures on the accounts.”

After getting my receipt of the deposit we left and rode to the barbershop. I told the three barbers to “Get these men baths, using fresh water for each man, then haircuts, and shaves. While you are getting ready we’re going to the store, I’ll be sending them back three at a time.”

We rode to the store. I gave James and Catherine a group picture and list of names of my cowboys and asked him to “Please open accounts in each man’s name, drafting their accounts at the bank weekly.”Then I asked them to “Please help three at a time and provide them with a suit for church along with a white dress shirt, dress boots, socks underpants, Levi Strauss blue jeans, cowboy work boots, work shirts and hats and anything else they want or need. Then send them to the barbershop.”

Meanwhile my cowboys were in shock, but they did as I asked without complaint.

My girls had gone to the hotel and registered with an extremely happy Sally. Inviting her and getting our interconnecting rooms, and arranging for two tubs and hot water to be delivered as soon as possible.

I went back to the barbershop and had a shampoo, haircut, and a shave. I also warned them all that I would undercut their prices and build another barbershop and bathhouse and bring in Chinese barbers and bath women if I heard a single complaint just like the General Store. After getting all that I asked for I rode Sam to the hotel.

It was the same stable boy as before, so I asked him his name. It was Danny Ferguson. I asked him about his parents. He told me that his father had died in the war, and his mother worked as a maid here in the hotel and her name was Ginger. Then I told him about my cowboys and I told him to treat them right and to take care of their horses. But first I wanted him to run down to the barbershop and tell the barbers to send my cowboys down to the hotel when they had finished with them. Then he was to run to the Cafe and tell Mary to expect twenty two of us for supper at about six thirty this evening and warn her that thirteen of us are black men. I flipped him a silver dollar for his trouble. He ran off with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.

I then went in and hugged Sally. I asked how business was, she said that it was better than ever before and a large part of it was the clean outhouses. I asked if she was joining us tonight, she was. Then I asked if she had room for thirteen black cowboys if we have extra beds to put them three to a room with Mr. Brown gettin a room to himself. She told me it was no problem and would get it arranged before she came up for a bath.

Arriving in my room I knocked on the door to the girls room. Opening the unlocked door all of the girls were in the process of stripping out of their clothes. Three bathtubs three quarters full of hot water were awaiting their naked bodies to immerse themselves. I was happy to join these eight beautiful women and soon we were taking our time getting clean of the dirt and grime from the trail. Three at a time with two people doing the washing and shampooing at each tub. A knock followed quickly by a key turning in the door lock had nine heads staring at the door. Sally laughed at our faces and declared that it was only her and asked if she could join the fun. We welcomed her and helped her undress then when our turn came we bathed together in the delightful way we established the first time we stayed here.