Sagebrush

  Mother Nature has a way of dealing with those who break her rules.

  * * *

  The train moved on, following the south side of the Arkansas. One afternoon, they saw a dark cloud in the west. A storm was on the way. Because of the difficult terrain on the south side, they had to cross the river, and they had to do it before the storm caused it to rise so much that they were unable to cross. The crossing was downstream, so they hurried to reach it. Sage and his men tied two logs to the sides of the wagon, to make it float. Sage rode his horse across the river and tied a rope to a tree on the other side. Then he had the drivers tie the other end of the rope to the wagon and push it into the river. The moving water swung the floating wagon to the other side just like it was on a pendulum. The drivers swam alongside the wagon and drove the mules out of the river just as it began to rise out of control.

  A funnel-type formation extended from the dark cloud! Sage had seen these storms before and knew that they could be very destructive. He and his men unhooked the mules and used heavy ropes to tie the wagon to large boulders because this kind of wind could rip even the largest trees from the ground. They finished tying the ropes just as chunks of hail as large as hen eggs began falling. They got under the wagon seeking protection from the hail. The wind grew stronger and stronger until it looked like the ropes might break. The heavy wagon bounced up and down against the ropes as the men hung on. Branches flew through the air, and some of the men were hit and injured. At last the wind stopped just as suddenly as it had started.

  No one knew what to do, so they waited. Soon the river began to rise, and they had to hurry and get out of the valley before the swirling water would sweep them away. They hitched the mules and dragged the wagon to safety.

  “I think we’d better camp here,” Mac said, “and take stock of our damage. Tomorrow morning will be plenty early for us to continue.”

  The men gathered their scattered mules and horses. It was getting dark before they found them all. Tonight, they would be without warm food; perhaps tomorrow, Sage could provide meat for their breakfast.

  The farther east the mule train traveled, the more vegetation was evident, and the more rolling the terrain became. The trees were larger, and the streams were larger. Sage was enjoying the fruit and berries he remembered.

  Days passed and the mule train entered areas that had been settled by farmers and ranchers. Children were playing in the yards, bridges crossed the streams, people waved to them as they passed. They had reached civilization!

  St. Louis, with all its houses and buildings, seemed crowded—people were everywhere. Sage was more lost here than he had ever been on the Great Plains or in the high mountains; he felt uncomfortable.

  “Mac,” Sage asked, “why are they looking at me in such a strange way?”

  “It’s because of the way you’re dressed. They’re not used to seeing a man dressed completely in buckskins.”

  “Well, I guess I’d better change into my other clothes, but where do I go to change?”

  Mac laughed. “Scary isn’t it? Makes you wish you were back on the prairie. We’d better sell this cargo and then get a hotel room. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to have a drink. My men are in a hurry to find whiskey and women. I’ve got to sell these furs before I can pay them. Let’s trade that silver bullion for gold coins, and then you can put your wagon and mules in a stable. They’ll care for them until you’re ready to return.

  “There’s a man I know who’ll buy your silver, and he won’t cheat you. He’ll pay in gold and hold the gold until you’re ready to go back. There are many men here who’ll try to steal it from you, and you couldn’t use your ax and knife to defend yourself, the way you do out on the plains. You’ll get in a lot of trouble doing that here.”

  “Then how do you defend yourself?”

  “You don’t. The law is supposed to take care of that for you.”

  “But what if they don’t?”

  “Then you have to go to court to settle the disagreement.”

  “How long does that take?”

  “Sometimes it takes months, even years. Oftentimes the thieves are in cahoots with the law, and you never get your money back. It’s called civilization.”

  “Does it work?”

  “Oh, yeah, it works just fine, for the men who run the system, but it doesn’t work worth a damn for the rest of the people.”

  “Why do the people put up with such a system?”

  “How are they going to change it? The men who control the system make all the rules. It’s like sitting in on a poker game where your opponent is the dealer. He decides what game you play; he deals the cards, and he gets all the trumps. If you object to the way the game is played, you’re called a troublemaker, and the dealer has the law haul you off to the jail. Then, while you’re in jail, the crook takes all your money. If you object, he has you thrown back in jail. If you think I’m kidding, just look around you. There are only a few big houses in this system, and all the rest are slums where the workers live. That’s the way it works. Nothing we can do about it . . . . Now, let’s sell that silver. Just follow my lead.”

  The man who purchased the silver told them he would hold the gold until they were ready, just like Mac had said.

  “How do we know he’ll give us the gold if we can’t force him to give it to us?” Sage asked as they walked away.

  “He’s in the silver-trading business. If he doesn’t give us our gold, then we won’t bring him any more silver, and he’ll be out of business. He gives us a piece of paper that says he’ll give us the gold when we come after it. It’s called civilization.”

  “But what if he doesn’t?”

  “Then you take him to court, and he has all the lawyers, and often times the court is on his side. If you’re lucky, you might get part of it. Again, it is called civilization.”

  “I’m not so sure I like this civilization. I think our method is better.”

  “I agree. That’s why I live in the West, where men are judged by their courage, not by how well they follow other men’s rules.” Mac turned the corner, and said, “Now, come with me while I sell my furs. Then we’ll find a place for these animals. And after we’ve done that, we’ll find a place where we can sleep.”

  The fur traders were all down by the river. The trading of furs was more complex than the trading of silver and gold. The buyer had to examine each bundle, one bundle at a time, and then decide what he would pay. It took a long time, but finally the trading was done. The fur trader said he would hold the payment until Mac was ready to go back to Bent’s Fort.

  “That’s quite a system they have,” Sage noted.

  Mac smiled. “In the big cities back east, they have places called banks, where the bank keeps your money, charges you for keeping it , and then charge you again for taking it out. We’d better thank God we live in a place where words like honesty, decency, and integrity still have meaning, because those words lose all meaning in this system. Let’s work to keep meaning in those words as long as we can. Civilization is coming all too fast.”

  * * *

  St. Louis was bustling. Traffic was going up and down the Mississippi and the Ohio rivers. Wagon trains were forming for trips west. It was an exciting place. Sage walked around watching the goings on. He spent three days purchasing the things on the lists. He bought brightly colored material for the Mexican women and then made special purchases for Juanita and Bonnie. He bought books, pencils, and paper for the children and a hundred pounds of candy, since there was no way to get candy in Santa Fe. For the men, he bought plows for tilling and seeds for planting. He had to buy another wagon with mules to pull it and hire two more drivers. The men would have to be armed and supplied. He had no trouble finding men; many of them were from Europe. He hired two young immigrants from Ireland who were eager to make the journey. After three days of preparing, Sage was ready for the return trip.

  The night before the train was to leave, Sage loaded the gold in the false
bottom and slept in the wagon to guard it. No one would know what the wagon was carrying. It looked like just another load of freight for the trading post.

  Mac bought and loaded the supplies he would be taking back to the trading post. He then had to reorganize his mule train. Some of his men were not returning with him, so he had to hire more muleskinners, and they had to be trained. When the time came to begin the trip, even the animals seemed eager to get going. The animals had been well cared for, but the fresh water and grass on the trail was better.

  The men from Ireland were having difficulty communicating with the Mexicans. Each was trying to learn the other’s language, and all were better off for the experience. After two weeks, things settled down. The new men began to understand how to do the things necessary for life on the trail. Life consisted of days and weeks of plodding along, following the rivers and the sun. There were always problems to face and difficulties to overcome. In the evenings, Sage instructed the new men to use their guns and told them what to expect in the event of an Indian attack.

  The mule train was loaded with things the Indians would like to have, and there was a pretty good chance they would try to take it. Fourteen heavily armed men guarded the mule train, and only a very large or very foolish band of Indians would dare to attack. They traveled two months on the open plains and saw thousands of buffalo. Sage had no trouble providing meat.

  It was summer and the evenings were warm. The men had just completed setting up camp and were cooking their food when Sage heard a lone coyote howl. The howl came from the trees down by the river. Then he heard a howl up on the prairie in response. The howling of a coyote was not unusual, but Sage knew that this howl was very unusual. He had sat in the evenings by his cave listening to the sounds of the night too long to be fooled by an Indian imitating the howl of a coyote. He sprang to his feet.

  “Mac,” he yelled, “get the mules bunched in that little draw and have the men tie them together and form a circle! We’re going to be attacked by Indians!”

  “What makes you think we’re going to be attacked?” Mac asked.

  “Please don’t argue with me; just do as I say, and hurry.”

  Sage told his men, “Move the wagons into the mouth of that draw and get into the fortified wagon. Make sure you have plenty of ammunition and water.”

  The men were astonished, but they knew better than to question their boss’s decision, so they quickly did as they were instructed. Sage then tied his horse between the two wagons.

  He yelled, “Mac, give me three of your best men to fire from the fortified wagon!”

  “Sam! Luke! Wes!” Mac called out. “Get into that wagon with plenty of ammo! The rest of you men get under the wagons. That way, we’ll have a heavily armed and concentrated force against the attack.”

  Just in time, the men reached the cover of the wagons. Out of the darkness arrows began to fly, and two of the men were hit. If it had been one moment later, it would have been too late.

  “Sage,” Mac asked, “how many of them do you reckon are out there?”

  “I don’t know, but there’s probably a bunch, or they’d never dare to attack this many armed men. One thing I know for sure, it’s going to be a long night, so keep your eyes open. They’ll be crawling in to pick us off as soon as it gets a little darker. Each man, choose a partner so you can cover each other’s back.”

  Sage heard a man cry out and knew that one of the men had been hit with an arrow. He called to the man who had been wounded earlier, and asked, “Sam, can you still fire a gun?”

  “Yeah,” Sam replied, “they just got me in the leg.”

  “Well, get up here in the wagon and take my place. I can do more good out there in the dark.”

  “You sure won’t have to ask me more than once. Here I come.”

  Sage slid silently out of the wagon and disappeared into the night. He had his knife, his ax, and his revolver. As the darkness closed around him, he became a part of the night itself. The brush and the tall grass were thick. The darkness was like a physical thing. The threat of death hung in the air like a fog. Sage would rely on his highly trained five senses. His sense of smell told him that he was near to an enemy. Sage was lying completely still, taking shallow breaths to prevent being heard. His opponent was also a man of great stealth. Sage knew that the first man to move would be the first man to die. Time passed. Then just to his right, Sage felt the grass move.

  Now, he knew where his enemy was. He continued to wait; he had to know where to strike. The strike must be silent, because there was probably more than one Indian hiding close by. Sage felt, more than heard, soft breathing. Then, quick as a striking rattler, his knife slashed out, and he severed the throat of his unsuspecting enemy. Sage rolled quickly out of the arch of a smashing tomahawk in the hands of another warrior. Sage’s ax found its mark, and the second Indian lay permanently silenced.

  Sage heard movement. He moved ever so slightly ahead and to his right and then waited, listening to determine what this new adversary would do. The new threat moved in the direction Sage had moved. The Indian could not imagine that a white man could beat him at his own game, so he made the mistake of believing he could move with less caution. That error in judgment cost him his life.

  Through the night, many shots rang out, sometimes followed by the moan of wounded or dying men. The attacking Indians were taking advantage of the darkness and attempting to kill as many of the defenders as they could, hoping to drive them into panic. The attackers wanted to steal the animals and as much freight as they could, hoping to do it with no loss to themselves. They didn’t count on someone in the mule train coming out and attacking them on their own ground. They knew that this white warrior was there, but they couldn’t find him. Finally, they realized he was decimating their numbers and decided the price they were paying was too high, so they withdrew into the night.

  When darkness gave way to the coming light, the area was strewn with the bodies of dead Indians. The men in and under the wagons couldn’t believe what they saw. The Indians who survived just disappeared into the vastness of the Great Plains. They would never know how many of them there had been.

  Sage was nowhere to be seen. No one knew what had happened to him or which way they should go to look for him. They were busy treating the wounded and burying their dead. By tying the mules together, they had prevented the Indians from stealing them. Two Indians had been killed by the muleskinners while they were trying to untie the mules. Not a single mule had been taken.

  Just as they were getting the camp back in order, Sage came over the ridge with a fully dressed deer over his shoulders. Everyone was dumbfounded. Sage had gone to the river, bathed, cleaned his clothes, killed and dressed a deer!

  The train’s losses had been two men dead and two men wounded. There would have been more if Sage had not alerted them. The story of that night would be told around campfires for years to come.

  After breakfast, Sage thanked his men for standing firm and told them that he would be leaving to complete a personal journey. They would be under the guidance of Mac until they reached Bent’s Fort, and then they would be on their own for the rest of the trip to Santa Fe. Sage was sure they’d get the wagons through, now that they had experience fighting Indians, and they would know what to do should another attack occur.

  Sage said to the Irish drivers, “After you get to Bent’s Fort, the two Mexicans will be in charge. They know the way, and they’ll be responsible for getting the wagons back to the hacienda. Here’s a note to give to Joe Martin, the manager of my ranch. Joe will pay you for your services and perhaps hire you to work for him on the ranch.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Return to Evening Star

  “Thank you for your help, Mac,” Sage said. “Here’s the money for your services. I’ll be leaving the train in the morning.”

  “We’re in Comanche territory!” Mac exclaimed. “You just saw what’s out there. Are you sure you want to ride out into that country
alone?”

  “I’ve spent many years alone in this territory,” Sage replied. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right.”

  Mac shook his head. “All right, it’s your hair. If any man on earth can do it, you can, but we’re going to miss you.”

  * * *

  At first light, Sage rode southbound, leading a pack mule. He was alone again on the great prairie. A tingle of excitement ran through him knowing that in a few days he would be in his cave. He hoped to see Evening Star and fulfill the promise he had made. He didn’t know what he was going to find, or what he should do. He may be the father of a baby and if he is, he has an obligation to the child. He must not shirk from that obligation, but his heart was in Santa Fe.

  He was again the man who had grown up alone and was as wild as the land. He rode southbound all day and made camp beside a small stream. The stream had plenty of water for his animals, so he let them graze and rest. He needed to get in touch with his past and try to figure out what to do when he saw Evening Star. She was a very important part of his past, and he looked forward to seeing her, but his destiny now lay with another woman.

  What should he do to fulfill his responsibility to Evening Star and to the child? He needed time to think. The only way to find the answer was to see what Evening Star wanted. He had to know if her life was in danger, or was she happy as the wife of Black Crow?

  He picketed his animals where they could get to water and grass, then walked away to where he would spend the night. If anyone were tracking him, they would find only his animals. He would be where his trackers couldn’t find him, but he would be able to see them. He found the right place on a knoll a short distance away. Lying on his blanket looking at the starry sky, he was at peace, and he was completely alone.

  Clouds filled the sky to the east. He knew that there was little chance it would rain where he was camped. When weather comes to the plains, it comes from the north or west. He heard distant thunder coming from the clouds and knew that under those clouds it would be raining hard. He didn’t have to worry about the streams flooding because all the streams on the plains flow to the southeast, and the water from that rain would flow away from him.