Chapter XXI. Fort Buford

by Andy Adams

　　We were at our rope's end. There were a few accounts to settle inGlendive, after which we would shake its dust from our feet. Veryfew of the quarantine guards returned to town, and with theexception of Sheriff Wherry, none of the leading cowmen, allhaving ridden direct for their ranches. Long before the trainarrived which would carry us to Little Missouri, the oppositionherds appeared and crossed the railroad west of town. Theircommissaries entered the village for supplies, while the"major-domo," surrounded by a body-guard of men, rode about onhis miserable palfrey. The sheriff, fearing a clash between thevictorious and the vanquished, kept an eye on Sponsilier and meas we walked the streets, freely expressing our contempt ofField, Radcliff & Co., their henchmen and their methods. Dave andI were both nerved to desperation; Sheriff Wherry, anxious toprevent a conflict, counciled with the opposition drovers,resulting in their outfits leaving town, while the principalstook stage across to Buford.Meanwhile Sponsilier had wired full particulars to our employerat Big Horn. It was hardly necessary, as the frost no doubt wasgeneral all over Montana, but we were anxious to get intocommunication with Lovell immediately on his return to therailroad. We had written him from Miles of our failure atPowderville, and the expected second stand at Glendive, and nowthe elements had notified him that the opposition herds werewithin striking distance, and would no doubt appear at Buford onor before the day of delivery. An irritable man like our employerwould neither eat nor sleep, once the delivery at the Crow Agencywas over, until reaching the railroad, and our message would beawaiting him on his return to Big Horn. Our train reached LittleMissouri early in the evening, and leaving word with the agentthat we were expecting important messages from the west, wevisited the liveryman and inquired about the welfare of ourhorses. The proprietor of the stable informed us that they hadfared well, and that he would have them ready for us on an hour'snotice. It was after dark and we were at supper when the firstmessage came. An immediate answer was required, and arising fromthe table, we left our meal unfinished and hastened to the depot.From then until midnight, messages flashed back and forth,Sponsilier dictating while I wrote. As there was no train beforethe regular passenger the next day, the last wire requested us tohave the horses ready to meet the Eastbound, saying that BobQuirk would accompany Lovell.That night it frosted again. Sponsilier and I slept until noonthe next day without awakening. Then the horses were brought infrom pasture, and preparation was made to leave that evening. Itwas in the neighborhood of ninety miles across to the mouth ofthe Yellowstone, and the chances were that we would ride itwithout unsaddling. The horses had had a two weeks' rest, and ifour employer insisted on it, we would breakfast with the herdsthe next morning. I was anxious to see the cattle again andrejoin my outfit, but like a watched pot, the train was an hourlate. Sponsilier and I took advantage of the delay and fortifiedthe inner man against the night and the ride before us. Thisproved fortunate, as Lovell and my brother had supper en route inthe dining-car. A running series of questions were asked andanswered; saddles were shaken out of gunny-sacks and cinched onwaiting horses as though we were starting to a prairie fire. BobQuirk's cattle had reached the Crow Agency in splendid condition,the delivery was effected without a word, and old man Don was inpossession of a letter from Flood, saying everything had passedsmoothly at the Rosebud Agency.Contrary to the expectation of Sponsilier and myself, ouremployer was in a good humor, fairly walking on the clouds overthe success of his two first deliveries of the year. But amid thebustle and rush, in view of another frosty night, Sponsilierinquired if it would not be a good idea to fortify against thechill, by taking along a bottle of brandy. "Yes, two of them ifyou want to," said old man Don, in good-humored approval. "Here,Tom, fork this horse and take the pitch out of him," hecontinued; "I don't like the look of his eye." But before I couldreach the horse, one of my own string, Bob Quirk had mounted him,when in testimony of the nutritive qualities of Dakota's grasses,he arched his spine like a true Texan and outlined a worm-fencein bucking a circle.The start was made during the gathering dusk. Sponsilier furtherlifted the spirits of our employer, as we rode along, by aclear-cut description of the opposition cattle, declaring thathad they ever equaled ours, the handling they had received sinceleaving Ogalalla, compared to his, would class them with shorttwos in the spring against long threes in the fall. Within anhour the stars shone out, and after following the river some tenmiles, we bore directly north until Beaver Creek was reached nearmidnight. The pace was set at about an eight-mile, steady clip,with an occasional halt to tighten cinches or shift saddles. Thehorses were capable of a faster gait without tiring, but we werenot sure of the route and were saving them for the finish afterdaybreak. Early in the night we were conscious that a frost wasfalling, and several times Sponsilier inquired if no one caredfor a nip from his bottle. Bob Quirk started the joke on Dave bydeclining; old man Don uncorked the flask, and, after smelling ofthe contents, handed it back with his thanks. I caught onto theirbanter, and not wishing to spoil a good jest, also declined,leaving Sponsilier to drink alone. During the night, wheneverconversation lagged, some one was certain to make reference tothe remarks which are said to have passed between the governorsof the Carolinas, or if that failed to provoke a rise, ask directif no one had something to ward off the chilly air. After beingrefused several times, Dave had thrown the bottle away, meetingthese jests with the reply that he had a private flask, but itsquality was such that he was afraid of offending our cultivatedtastes by asking us to join him.Day broke about five in the morning. We had been in the saddlenearly ten hours, and were confident that sunrise would revealsome landmark to identify our location. The atmosphere was frostyand clear, and once the gray of dawn yielded to the rising sun,the outline of the Yellowstone was easily traced on our left,while the bluffs in our front shielded a view of the motherMissouri. In attempting to approach the latter we encounteredsome rough country and were compelled to turn towards the former,crossing it, at O'Brien's roadhouse, some seven miles above themouth. The husbanded reserves of our horses were shaken out, andshortly afterward smoke-clouds from camp-fires, hanging low,attracted our attention. The herds were soon located as theyarose and grazed away from their bed-grounds. The outfits wereencamped on the eastern side of the Yellowstone; and beforeleaving the government road, we sighted in our front a flagascending to greet the morning, and the location of Fort Bufordwas established. Turning towards the cattle, we rode for thelower wagon and were soon unsaddling at Forrest's camp. Thelatter had arrived two days before and visited the post; he toldus that the opposition were there in force, as well as our ownattorneys. The arrival of the cattle under contract for thatmilitary division was the main topic of discussion, and Forresthad even met a number of civilian employees of Fort Buford whoseduties were to look after the government beeves. The foreman ofthese unenlisted attaches, a Texan named Sanders, had casuallyridden past his camp the day before, looking over the cattle, andhad pronounced them the finest lot of beeves tendered thegovernment since his connection with that post."That's good news," said Lovell, as he threw his saddle astridethe front wheel of the wagon; "that's the way I like to hear mycattle spoken about. Now, you boys want to make friends with allthose civilians, and my attorneys and Bob and I will hobnobaround with the officers, and try and win the good will of theentire post. You want to change your camp every few days and giveyour cattle good grazing and let them speak for themselves.Better kill a beef among the outfits, and insist on all callersstaying for meals. We're strangers here, and we want to make agood impression, and show the public that we were born white,even if we do handle cattle for a living. Quince, tie up thehorses for us, and after breakfast Bob and I will look over theherds and then ride into Fort Buford.--Trout for breakfast? Youdon't mean it!"It was true, however, and our appetites did them justice. Forrestreported Splann as having arrived a day late, and now encampedthe last herd up the valley. Taking our horses with us, Dave andI set out to look up our herds and resume our former positions. Irode through Sponsilier's cattle while en route to my own, andremembered the first impression they had made on my mind,--theiruniformity in size and smoothness of build,--and now found themfatted into finished form, the herd being a credit to any drover.Continuing on my way, I intercepted my own cattle, lying downover hundreds of acres, and so contented that I refused todisturb them. Splann reported not over half a dozen sore-footedones among them, having grazed the entire distance from LittleMissouri, giving the tender cattle a good chance to recover. Iheld a circle of listeners for several hours, in recountingSponsilier's and my own experiences in the quarantine camps, andour utter final failure, except that the opposition herds hadbeen detained, which would force them to drive over twenty milesa day in order to reach Buford on time. On the other hand, anincident of more than ordinary moment had occurred with thecattle some ten days previous. The slow movement of the grazingherds allowed a great amount of freedom to the boys and was takenadvantage of at every opportunity. It seems that on approachingBeaver Creek, Owen Ubery and Runt Pickett had ridden across to itfor the purpose of trout-fishing. They were gone all day, havingstruck the creek some ten or twelve miles west of the cattle,expecting to fish down it and overtake the herds during theevening. But about noon they discovered where a wagon had beenburned, years before, and near by were five human skeletons,evidently a family. It was possibly the work of Indians, or ablizzard, and to prove the discovery, Pickett had brought in oneof the skulls and proposed taking it home with him as a mementoof the drive. Parent objected to having the reminder in thewagon, and a row resulted between them, till Splann interferedand threw the gruesome relic away.The next morning a dozen of us from the three herds rode into thepost. Fort Buford was not only a military headquarters, but asupply depot for other posts farther west on the Missouri andYellowstone rivers. The nearest railroad connection was Glendive,seventy-six miles up the latter stream, though steamboats tookadvantage of freshets in the river to transport immense suppliesfrom lower points on the Missouri where there were railconnections. From Buford westward, transportation was effected byboats of lighter draft and the regulation wagon train. It wasrecognized as one of the most important supply posts in the West;as early as five years previous to this date, it had received ina single summer as many as ten thousand beeves. Its provision forcavalry was one of its boasted features, immense stacks of forageflanking those quarters, while the infantry barracks andofficers' quarters were large and comfortable. A stirring littletown had sprung up on the outside, affording the citizensemployment in wood and hay contracts, and becoming the home of alarge number of civilian employees, the post being the mainstayof the village.After settling our quarantine bills, Sponsilier and I each hadmoney left. Our employer refused even to look at our expensebills until after the delivery, but urged us to use freely anyremaining funds in cultivating the good will of the citizens andsoldiery alike. Forrest was accordingly supplied with funds, withthe understanding that he was to hunt up Sanders and his outfitand show them a good time. The beef foreman was soon located inthe quartermaster's office, and, having been connected with thepost for several years, knew the ropes. He had come to Bufordwith Texas cattle, and after their delivery had accepted asituation under the acting quartermaster, easily rising to theforemanship through his superior abilities as a cowman. It waslike a meeting of long-lost brothers to mingle again with a cowoutfit, and the sutler's bar did a flourishing business duringour stay in the post. There were ten men in Sanders's outfit,several of whom besides himself were Texans, and before weparted, every rascal had promised to visit us the next day andlook over all the cattle.The next morning Bob Quirk put in an early appearance at mywagon. He had passed the other outfits, and notified us all tohave the cattle under convenient herd, properly watered inadvance, as the post commandant, quartermaster, and a party ofminor officers were going to ride out that afternoon and inspectour beeves. Lovell, of course, would accompany them, and Bobreported him as having made a ten-strike with the officers' mess,not being afraid to spend his money. Fortunately the presentquartermaster at Buford was a former acquaintance of Lovell, thetwo having had business transactions. The quartermaster had beenconnected with frontier posts from Fort Clark, Texas, to hispresent position. According to report, the opposition wereactive and waging an aggressive campaign, but not being Westernmen, were at a disadvantage. Champagne had flowed freely at adinner given the night before by our employer, during whichSenator Aspgrain, in responding to a toast, had paid the army ahigh tribute for the part it had played in reclaiming the last ofour western frontier. The quartermaster, in replying, hadfelicitously remarked, as a matter of his own observation, thatthe Californian's love for a horse was only excelled by theTexan's love for a cow, to which, amid uproarious laughter, oldman Don arose and bowed his acknowledgment.My brother changed horses and returned to Sponsilier's wagon.Dave had planned to entertain the post beef outfit for dinner,and had insisted on Bob's presence. They arrived at my herd nearthe middle of the forenoon, and after showing the cattle andremuda, we all returned to Sponsilier's camp. These civilianemployees furnished their own mounts, and were anxious to buy anumber of our best horses after the delivery was over. Not even awhisper was breathed about any uncertainty of our filling theoutstanding contract, yet Sanders was given to understand thatDon Lovell would rather, if he took a fancy to him, give a man ahorse than sell him one. Not a word was said about any oppositionto our herds; that would come later, and Sanders and his outfitwere too good judges of Texas cattle to be misled by any blusteror boastful talk. Sponsilier acted the host, and after dinnerunearthed a box of cigars, and we told stories and talked of ourhomes in the sunny South until the arrival of the military party.The herds had been well watered about noon and drifted out on thefirst uplands, and we intercepted the cavalcade before it reachedSponsilier's herd. They were mounted on fine cavalry horses, andthe only greeting which passed, aside from a military salute, waswhen Lovell said: "Dave, show these officers your beeves. Answerany question they may ask to the best of your ability. Gentlemen,excuse me while you look over the cattle."There were about a dozen military men in the party, some of themveterans of the civil war, others having spent their lifetime onour western frontier, while a few were seeing their first year'sservice after leaving West Point. In looking over the cattle, thepost commander and quartermaster were taken under the wing ofSanders, who, as only a man could who was born to the occupation,called their attention to every fine point about the beeves.After spending fully an hour with Sponsilier's herd, thecavalcade proceeded on to mine, Lovell rejoining the party, butnever once attempting to draw out an opinion, and again excusinghimself on reaching my cattle. I continued with the military,answering every one's questions, from the young lieutenant's tothe veteran commandant's, in which I was ably seconded by thequartermaster's foreman. My cattle had a splendid fill on themand eloquently spoke their own praises, yet Sanders lost noopportunity to enter a clincher in their favor. He pointed outbeef after beef, and vouched for the pounds net they would dress,called attention to their sameness in build, ages, and generalthrift, until one would have supposed that he was a salesmaninstead of a civilian employee.My herd was fully ten miles from the post, and it was necessaryfor the military to return that evening. Don Lovell and a numberof the boys had halted at a distance, and once the inspection wasover, we turned and rode back to the waiting group of horsemen.On coming up, a number of the officers dismounted to shiftsaddles, preparatory to starting on their return, when thequartermaster halted near our employer and said:"Colonel Lovell, let me say to you, in all sincerity, that in mytwenty-five years' experience on this frontier, I never saw afiner lot of beeves tendered the government than these of yours.My position requires that I should have a fair knowledge of beefcattle, and the perquisites of my office in a post of Buford'sclass enable me to employ the best practical men available toperfect the service. I remember the quality of cattle which youdelivered four years ago to me at Fort Randall, when it was asix-company post, yet they were not as fine a lot of beeves asthese are. I have always contended that there was nothing toogood in my department for the men who uphold the colors of ourcountry, especially on the front line. You have been a soldieryourself and know that I am talking good horsesense, and I wantto say to you that whatever the outcome of this dispute may be,if yours are the best cattle, you may count on my support untilthe drums beat tattoo. The government is liberal and insists onthe best; the rank and file are worthy, and yet we don't alwaysget what is ordered and well paid for. Now, remember, comrade, ifthis difference comes to an issue, I'm right behind you, andwe'll stand or be turned down together.""Thank you, Colonel," replied Mr. Lovell. "It does seem ratherfortunate, my meeting up with a former business acquaintance, andat a time when I need him bad. If I am successful in deliveringon this Buford award, it will round out, during my fifteen yearsas a drover, over a hundred thousand cattle that I have sold tothe government for its Indian and army departments. There are nosecrets in my business; the reason of my success is simple--mycattle were always there on the appointed day, humanely handled,and generally just a shade better than the specifications. Myhome country has the cattle for sale; I can tell within two bitsa head what it will cost to lay them down here, and it's music tomy ear to hear you insist on the best. I agree with you that thefiring-line is entitled to special consideration, yet you knowthat there are ringsters who fatten at the expense of the rankand file. At present I haven't a word to say, but at noonto-morrow I shall tender the post commander at Ford Buford,through his quartermaster, ten thousand beeves, as asub-contractor on the original award to The Western SupplyCompany." The post commander, an elderly, white-haired officer,rode over and smilingly said: "Now, look here, my Texas friend,I'm afraid you are borrowing trouble. True enough, there has beena protest made against our receiving your beeves, and I don'tmince my words in saying that some hard things have been saidabout you. But we happen to know something about your reputationand don't give credit for all that is said. Your beeves are aneloquent argument in your favor, and if I were you I wouldn'tworry. It is always a good idea in this Western country to make aproviso; and unless the unforeseen happens, the quartermaster'scattle foreman will count your beeves to-morrow afternoon; andfor the sake of your company, if we keep you a day or two longersettling up, I don't want to hear you kick. Now, come on and goback with us to the post, as I promised my wife to bring you overto our house this evening. She seems to think that a man fromTexas with ten thousand cattle ought to have horns, and I want toshow her that she's mistaken. Come on, now, and not a damned wordof protest out of you."The military party started on their return, accompanied byLovell. The civilian attaches followed at a respectful distance,a number of us joining them as far as Sponsilier's camp. There wehalted, when Sanders insisted on an explanation of the remarkswhich had passed between our employer and his. Being once moreamong his own, he felt no delicacy in asking forinformation--which he would never think of doing with hissuperiors. My brother gave him a true version of the situation,but it remained for Dave Sponsilier to add an outline of theopposition herds and outfits."With humane treatment," said Dave, "the cattle would havequalified under the specifications. They were bought at Ogalalla,and any of the boys here will tell you that the first one was agood herd. The market was all shot to pieces, and they pickedthem up at their own price. But the owners didn't have cow-senseenough to handle the cattle, and put one of their own gang overthe herds as superintendent. They left Cabin Creek, belowGlendive, on the morning of the 10th, and they'll have to travelnearly twenty miles a day to reach here by noon to-morrow.Sanders, you know that gait will soon kill heavy cattle. Theoutfits were made up of short-card men and dance-hall ornaments,wild enough to look at, but shy on cattle sabe. Just so theyshowed up bad and wore a six-shooter, that was enough to win ahome with Field and Radcliff. If they reach here on time, I'llgamble there ain't ten horses in the entire outfit that don'tcarry a nigger brand. And when it comes to the big conversation--well, they've simply got the earth faded."It was nearly sundown when we mounted our horses and separatedfor the day. Bob Quirk returned to the post with the civilians,while I hastened back to my wagon. I had left orders with Splannto water the herd a second time during the evening and thusinsure an easy night in holding the cattle. On my return, theywere just grazing out from the river, their front a mile wide,making a pretty picture with the Yellowstone in the background.But as I sat my horse and in retrospect reviewed my connectionwith the cattle before me and the prospect of soon severing it,my remuda came over a near-by hill in a swinging trot for theirsecond drink. Levering threw them into the river below the herd,and turning, galloped up to me and breathlessly asked: "Tom, didyou see that dust-cloud up the river? Well, the other cattle arecoming. The timber cuts off your view from here, besides thesun's gone down, but I watched their signal for half an hour fromthat second hill yonder. Oh, it's cattle all right; I know thesign, even if they are ten miles away."