Chapter 3

The Chisholm Trail was a well known route from San Antonio up into the Indian Territories. It had been used for a trading route since the 1840s and was well known to many people, but it had not had much use as a cattle trail until Mr. McCoy had opened his cattle-buying operation in Abilene, Kansas. The trail kind of petered out somewhere in the middle of the Indian Territories, so Mr. McCoy had marked an extension with white flags on stakes to lead them into Abilene, Kansas. Therefore, most of Billy's job in Texas was to make sure that the river fords were open and nothing else was hindering passage for the 2,600 cattle in the herd.

There was a pretty big crew handling the herd. There were 25 drovers, Hiram Putnam and a helper with the remuda, Old Charley Thompson as the cook with a helper, Billy Harris as the scout, and Jase Culpepper as the trail boss. The 31 men could do the job, but that was just about the bare minimum for a herd of this size. This was a juggernaut moving across the face of Texas, and woe betide anything that got in the way. They tried to keep to a slow walk to keep from working the fat off the cattle, so 10-12 miles per day was what they expected. That meant a good three months on the trail, and that explained why very few cowboys wanted to make a second trip, even if the pay was good.

Cattle were selling for around 50¢ a head in Texas or Mexico, and that was what Jake Ephram had paid for the 900 head he had picked up from the Circle M. The current price in Abilene, Kansas was $4 a head, so he could make a substantial profit if all of the cattle arrived in decent shape. That was Jase Culpepper's job. It was up to him to shepherd the herd and to make sure as many as possible arrived in one piece at the rail head.

Rustlers did not plan to drive any stolen cattle to Kansas. Instead, they wanted to push them into Mexico and sell them for their hides at the 50¢ price. A thousand head would bring in $500, and that was enough to buy a lot of booze and women, with some left over for food, etc. That was what Billy was supposed to give early warning about, if he could. The farther north they went, the less likely were they to see rustlers, so Billy was vigilant at this early stage of the trip.

The fourth day out, Billy spotted a bunch of men riding in the general direction of the herd. Of, course, it was impossible to tell at this stage if they were actually headed to the trail herd, but he had to check them out for sure. There were seven men in the gang, and that was too many men in one group for most any peaceful purpose. He could hardly ride up and ask them what they had in mind, for if they were rustlers, he could be hit by dozens of bullets before he could get away from them. No, his best bet was to follow them for a ways and see what they seemed to have in mind. If they were headed toward the herd, he still had time to get back with adequate warning.

Billy followed the gang at a safe distance for over an hour, and they were definitely headed toward the herd. With that information, it was now imperative that Jase get plenty of warning. If the men turned away, or had a peaceful intent, nothing was wasted; otherwise, the men with the herd had to hear of the danger.

Billy needed 30 minutes to reach the herd at his best speed. "Jase, I gots bad news! There's a gang of seven riders headed this way, and I couldn't tell what they had in mind, but I figured that you'd better hear 'bout them afore they got here."

"Thank ya, Billy. That's the kind of information I depend on ya fer. Which way they comin' from?"

"They're comin' from the southwest an' should be here in about 40 minutes at the rate they're movin'."

"HEY, EDDIE, COME HERE, IFEN YA PLEASE! ... Billy, Eddie, y'all spread the word that we may git a visit by rustlers in 'bout half an hour, though it may take longer than that. Billy, ya take the left side of the herd, and Eddie, ya take the right. Make sure every man gits the word. Now, go!"

Jase told Old Charley and his helper so that they would not be caught by surprise, so everybody was ready when the rustlers did arrive. They must have been new at the sport, because they came in shooting their pistols and generally raising hell. They looked like they were trying to stampede the herd, but they were at the wrong place to do much of that. A few steers ran a few steps, but settled back down when the rest of the herd ignored the clamor.

Meanwhile, the drovers had their pistols ready, so they began to shoot at the charging rustlers when they got into range. Billy, Jase, Old Charley, and his helper all had rifles, and these were more in line with the kind of weapon needed in this kind of fight. Still, only two of the rustlers were hit by the bullets thrown in their direction. Almost all of the shooters were on horseback and moving, so they really had little chance of hitting someone except by accident.

Billy and Old Charley shot at the horses, not at the men. That was a trick they had learned while fighting Comanches, and it served them well on this occasion. Very few shots were actually exchanged before the rustlers had a change of heart. When two of their companions went down, the remaining five rustlers turned tail and left as fast as their horses could take them. This definitely was not a profitable venture for the rustlers!

The two downed rustlers were hanged from convenient trees. One of them was already dead, but it was the principle of the thing! The few valuables they gleaned from the rustlers went into the kitty to be used for the common good at the end of the drive.

Jase thanked Billy for the warning and sent him back out to see what else he might spy in the way of trouble. Billy left feeling pretty good about himself and determined to do as well with the next batch of rustlers that he could find. Well, it wasn't rustlers that he next found.

Billy was now ahead of the herd about a mile or a little more and riding on the trail itself. He topped a little rise and saw and heard a fight going on around a strange looking wagon. Four Indians, Comanches from the looks of them, were riding around and around the wagon. Three were shooting arrows and one was shooting a Spencer carbine. Return fire was sporadic and sounded like that coming from a Colt Navy revolver.

It appeared to Billy that the Indians could take the wagon any time they wanted to just by charging all at the same time. For some reason, they appeared to be playing with the person in the wagon at this point. During this era, it was axiomatic that the Indians were the bad guys, and a White man was duty-bound to assist the target of the Indians if at all possible. With that in mind, Billy rode close to the fight and drew his Spencer.

Billy did not bother to dismount since he had reduced the range to about 25 yards or so. He also did not bother to shoot at the men, but shot at the horses. That large a target at this close a range meant no misses. Billy was able to shoot three of the horses, dumping the riders to the ground and putting them out of the fight. At this point, the fourth Comanche realized that his bow was over matched by the rifle in Billy's hands and turned away to escape. Billy let him go, as he was more concerned about the driver of the wagon.

The wagon driver saw Billy approach and stood up. "I'm much obliged, Mister. Them Redskins would of had me anytime they'd a mind ta. I don't know what held 'em back."

"Ya're welcome, Mister. I'm Billy Harris. I 'spect they was just playin' around and showin' off fer each other, tryin' ta look real brave an' earn a coup feather. I'm glad I was able ta help. Was it anythin' but devilment that turned them on ta ya?"

"I can't imagine what else it could of been. Sure, I'm carryin' a load of whiskey, but I don't know of any way they could of known that. Oh, I'm Jack Williams. I guess that I kin make it the rest of the way inta Hays Grove without no more trouble. Here, let me give ya this in thanks fer yer he'p."