Desperate Ride
The morning haze was beginning to burn off as two riders
lazily started down the trail. Joe
Cartwright stopped, stretched and yawned. “How
come we have to look for those strays at the crack of dawn?” Joe asked
grumpily.
“Crack of dawn?” said his brother, Hoss.
“It must be close to ten. If
I left it up to you, you’d have stayed in bed until noon.”
“That sounds good to me,” said Joe with a grin.
“We got a lot to do while Pa’s over at Fort Benson,”
Hoss said. “The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll get everything
done.”
“You’re a bear for work all of a sudden,” said Joe.
“It couldn’t be because you want to take the day off tomorrow, could
it?”
“Why would I want to do that?” answered Hoss, with
wide-eye innocence.
“Well, “ said Joe with a teasing voice, “I heard that
Bessie Sue Moran asked you to take her fishing. “
Hoss blushed. “Now,
Joe, you know Bessie Sue is just a friend.
And I happen to like fishing.”
“Yeah, right,” Joe said with a grin. “Well,
you just better be careful that a fish isn’t the only thing that gets
hooked!” Joe started laughing and urged his horse forward as Hoss removed his
hat and took a swipe at his brother with it.
Hoss grinned as he rode after his brother.
The two men hadn’t ridden very far when Joe abruptly
pulled his horse to a stop. “What’s wrong?” asked Hoss, stopping next
to him.
Joe pointed. “Isn’t
that Charley Scroggins? I thought he was still in jail.”
Hoss peered at the figure riding ahead. The man was riding slowly, cautiously, looking around him. Suddenly, the man stopped. With one last look around, he dismounted his horse and disappeared into a thicket of trees and bushes.
“Yeah, that’s him,” said Hoss.
“He got out a couple of weeks ago.
He’s acting awful funny. Maybe
we ought to go see what he’s up to.” Joe
nodded.
Joe and Hoss rode down the trail to the thicket.
They dismounted and tied their horses to a bush.
They moved through the undergrowth as silently as possible.
Joe put his hand up to stop his brother, then pointed to their left.
Two men were standing in a small clearing.
One was Charley Scroggins. Joe
and Hoss crouched down and moved closer.
“Are
you sure you can deliver those guns?” asked Scroggins.
“I
already told you they’d be here by the end of the week,” the other man
answered. “What I want to know is
how you can be sure the Piautes will buy them from you.”
Scroggins
laughed. “I’m sure.
Ol’ Red Pony is a friend of mine.
He wants to a war chief. And he’s got lots of what he calls ‘white
man’s yellow rocks’ stashed away. “
“But,
I heard the Piautes are getting ready to sign a peace treaty,” the other man
insisted. “They won’t want to
buy guns if there’s peace.”
“We
got that covered, too.” Scroggins said. “There’s
going to be a big explosion at the treaty signing.
All the chiefs and most of the Army top brass will be killed. The Indians
will blame the Army; the Army will blame the Indians.
There will be a war before the end of the week.” Joe and Hoss looked at
each other with concern. Their
father, Ben Cartwright, was at Fort Benson for the treaty signing.
He had helped negotiate the terms of the peace, and he was going to be
there to witness the signing.
“Well,
if you say so,” the stranger said. “I
still think it’s funny that an Army captain would start a war.”
“You
don’t know this Army captain, “ replied Scroggins.
“He’s got gambling debts to pay. The gold we get from Red Pony will
pay those debts. Besides, with the
top brass dead, he figures he’ll get an instant promotion.”
Hoss
looked at Joe and nodded. They had
heard enough. Both men drew their
guns. Hoss gestured and Joe nodded.
The men moved quietly through the brush, one going to the right, the
other to the left.
“I’ve
got to get going,” Scroggins said. “You
have that wagonload of guns at Willow Lake on Friday.
I’ll have Red Pony and the gold there are dawn.”
“Hold
it!” yelled Hoss as he burst out of the brush.
The two men looked at him with a startled expression.
Scroggins reached for his gun, but a shot from the left froze him.
Joe emerged from the brush, his gun smoking.
“Put your hands up and don’t move,” said Hoss. Both men complied. Joe moved cautiously around them, removing the gun from each man’s holster.
“What’s
this all about?” said Scroggins. “I
haven’t done anything.”
“No,
“ said Joe with a trace of bitterness. “All
you’ve done is try to blow up our Pa and start an Indian war. We heard what
you said. Lucky for you we found
out in time.
Otherwise, you two would be facing a hangman’s rope for murder.”
“Look,
I didn’t do anything, “ said the stranger.
“I’m just selling some guns.”
“Don’t
make any difference,” said Hoss. “You’re
part of this. That makes you as
guilty as Scroggins here.”
“Hoss,
let’s get these two to Sheriff Coffee in Virginia City and get a wire off to
Fort Benton,” said Joe.
“You
can’t,” said the stranger with desperation.
“The wire has been cut in two places. It’s going to take them a week
to find and fix the breaks!”
Joe and
Hoss looked at each other. They
realized their Pa was in great danger.
Joe
grabbed Scroggins by the front of the shirt and stuck his gun under the man’s
chin. “All right, “ said Joe. “You
better start talking and talking fast. What’s
going to happen and when.”
“Tell
him, Scroggins,” pleaded the stranger. “I
don’t want to hang for murder. Tell him.”
Scroggins’
eye bulged with fear. “There’s
nothing you can do about it, “ he said in a shaky voice.
“The chiefs arrive at the Fort about noon tomorrow.
Captain Johnson is going to be part of the treaty signing. Once everyone
is in the colonel’s office, he’s to find an excuse to leave.
When he gets outside, he’s going to light a load of dynamite hidden
under the office and walk away. “
Joe
cocked his pistol. “You’d
better be telling the truth,” he said heatedly.
Joe
released the man with a shove. He
turned to his brother. “Do you
think you can get these two into town by yourself?”
“Sure,
but what are you going to do?” asked Hoss.
“Only
thing I can do. I’m going to ride
to Fort Benson and warn them,” answered Joe grimly.
“Joe,
it’s over a hundred miles to Fort Benson!
And through some pretty rough country.
You’ll never make it by noon tomorrow,” said Hoss.
“I’ve
got to try, “ insisted Joe. “If
I start now and ride hard, I should make it to Harvey Jones’ place by dusk.
I can get a fresh horse there.”
Hoss
shook his head. “Joe, you’ll
kill yourself.”
“You
got a better idea?” asked Joe angrily.
“We got to stop them. Pa’s
life is involved.”
“I
know,” said Hoss with resignation. “And
I don’t have a better idea. I’ll
take these fellows to town and see if I can find another way to get a message to
the Fort.”
Joe
nodded. “I’d better get
going.” Joe holstered his
gun and started walking rapidly toward his horse.
“Joe!”
called Hoss. Joe stopped and
turned. “You look after yourself,
“ Hoss said quietly. Joe nodded
and turned back to his horse. He vaulted on to the back of his pinto and kicked
the horse into a gallop.
The sun
was starting to go down as he reached Harvey Jones’ ranch.
Joe figured he had covered more than fifty miles, going over hills and
through rivers. He wished he had some flat ground to cover, so he could pick up
some time. But the fastest way to Fort Benson was through some of the roughest
country in Nevada.
“Joe
Cartwright!” yelled Harvey as he rode up.
“What are you trying to do? Kill
your horse or kill yourself?”
“Harvey,
I need a fresh horse fast. I’ve
got to get to Fort Benson by noon tomorrow.”
“Oh,
son,” said Harvey ruefully. “You’ll
never make it. It’s too far.”
“I’ve
got to, “ said Joe as he dismounted. “There’s
a captain there who’s going to try and start a war.
He’s going to blow up Pa, the Army colonel and the Piaute chiefs just
as they’re signing the treaty. If
I don’t stop it, this whole country will be a bloody battlefield by the end of
the week.”
“My
God!” exclaimed Harvey. “I
remember the last time the Piautes went on the warpath.
There wasn’t a white man alive for miles around here. I’ll get you a
fresh horse.”
Harvey
rushed into the barn. Joe unbuckled
the saddle from his tired horse, and gave the animal an affectionate pat.
“You rest, Cochise. I’ll
come back and get you.” Joe
carried his saddle toward the barn. He
stopped at a well near the barn. A
bucket of water was on the edge of the well. The handle of a ladle was sticking
out of the bucket. Joe pulled the ladle from the bucket, and took a long drink
of water. He removed his hat and
poured the rest of the water over his head.
He hoped the water would revive his tired body.
“Here
you go, Joe” said Harvey, leading a roan horse from the barn.
“This is the best horse I got. He’s
not as fast as your horse, but he’s got some speed. Better than that, he’s
strong; he’ll run all day for you.”
“Thanks,
Harvey,” Joe said gratefully. He
threw his saddle over the horse and started buckling it on.
“Listen,
Joe, I’ve been thinking, “ said Harvey.
“If you can cut through those woods near Pyramid Lake, you’ll save
yourself five or six miles. A
friend of mine, Arch Fenner, has a ranch on the other side of the woods.
You tell him what you told
me. He’ll give you a fresh horse.
It’s only about fifteen miles to the Fort from Arch’s place.”
Joe
nodded as he mounted. “I’ll do
that,” said Joe.
“Thanks.”
“No
thanks needed,” said Harvey. “I
figure you’re trying to save my hide, just as much as your Pa’s.”
Joe
nodded again and rode off at a gallop. “Good
luck!” shouted Harvey after him. He
watched Joe for a minute. “You’ll
need it, “ said Harvey to himself.
Joe
took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.
He patted the horse’s neck. “C’mon, boy,” he said.
“We’ll figure out a way to do this.”
He kicked the horse forward.
When
Joe woke, he found himself on the ground. He
had no idea how long he had been unconscious.
He sat up slowly. Something
was oozing into his left eye. He
put his hand to his face and wiped his eye.
He looked his hand and saw it was covered with blood.
He gingerly touched his forehead, feeling a knot a few inches above the
eye. He could feel a cut just below
the knot. Joe wiped his arm over
his forehead and eye, trying to get the blood out of his eye. He felt
the cut again. The bleeding was
slow. The cut would probably close
itself soon.
The
horse was about ten yards ahead of him, contentedly chewing on the grass near a
small group of trees. Joe
approached him slowly. “Whoa,
there,” he said soothingly as he neared the animal.
The horse lifted his head and looked at Joe.
Joe walked slowly to the animal and put his hand on the horse’s neck.
Joe slid his hand across the animal’s rump as he walked around him. The
horse stood quietly as Joe checked the girth and then climbed into the saddle.
A small stream of blood trickled into Joe’s eye.
He wiped it away with his sleeve. His
head ached and his body seemed to be sore all over.
Joe gritted his teeth, and turned his horse.
“C’mon,” he said, urging the animal forward. He started riding
through the woods again, but this time he kept his eyes moving back and forth
between the ground and the trail ahead.
A man
was in the yard, splitting logs as Joe approached.
He looked up suspiciously as
Joe rode his exhausted horse toward him. Joe
was covered with dust. His face was
streaked with dirt, sweat and blood. The man dropped this ax and
put his hand on the gun hanging on his hip.
“Are
you Arch Fenner?” Joe asked in a tired voice.
“Yeah,
what of it?” answered the rancher cautiously.
“I’m
a friend of Harvey Jones. I’ve
got to get to Fort Benson by noon. Harvey
said I could get a fresh horse here, “ replied Joe.
Fenner
looked Joe over, then studied the horse. “I
recognize that roan,” he said. “That’s Harvey’s horse, all right.
But why are you in such an all fired hurry to get to Fort Benson?”
Joe’s body sagged with fatigue. “I’m too tired to try and explain,” he said wearily.
“Can
I have the horse? You can keep this
one until I get back.”
Fenner
put his hand to his chin and studied Joe for a minute.
“All right,” he said finally.
“I’ll get you a horse.”
Joe
nodded gratefully. He dismounted as
Fenner headed toward the barn. Once again, he unsaddled his horse.
This time, though, the saddle felt like it weighed three hundred pounds.
He wearily dragged the saddle toward the barn. He stopped at a water
trough near the barn. Joe knelt and
plunged his hand into the water. He
used his hand as a cup, first to drink and then to splash water onto his face.
Finally, he stood, water dripping from his face.
Joe couldn’t believe how much effort it took to get to his feet. Fenner
led a black horse toward Joe. Joe
liked the look of the horse; the animal seemed strong.
“How far is it to the Fort?” Joe asked.
“About
fifteen miles if you follow the trail,” answered Fenner.
“If you cut over the hills, it’s only about ten.
But that’s a rough ride. You
don’t look like you could make it.”
“I’ll
make it,” said Joe. He threw his
saddle on the black and tightened the girth.
He started to mount, but he couldn’t get his tired legs to work
properly. Fenner caught Joe as he fell back toward the ground.
“Son,
you better come inside and rest for awhile,” Fenner said with concern.
Joe
shook his head. “No, I’ve got
to keep going. If I stop now,
I’ll never get to the Fort on time.”
“I
don’t know what’s going on, but it can’t be so important that it’s worth
killing yourself,” answered Fenner.
“Yes,
it is,” Joe said grimly. He
turned back to the horse, and, using more will power than strength,
pulled himself into the saddle. “Thanks,”
he said as he turned the horse and rode off.
“Fool
kid,” muttered Fenner, as he picked the ax he had dropped.
Joe steered the horse toward the hills, keeping the horse going at a steady pace. He was so tired that he could barely keep his eyes open. He found himself starting to doze in the saddle as the horse slowed to a walk. He tried to urge the horse on at a faster pace, but he couldn’t seem to make his aching muscles work. He slumped forward onto the neck of the horse as the horse walked on. Joe woke with a start. He was confused by fatigue and sleep. The horse had stopped and was grazing on the grass. The sun was high in the sky. Joe knew he must have slept for awhile. The nap didn’t seem to have helped him much. He still felt as if he could sleep for a week. Suddenly, he remember his mission. He gathered up the reins and jerked the startled horse’s head up. He kicked the horse hard, sending the animal into a gallop.
Joe
rode over the hills as fast as the horse could run.
He urged the horse down a steep hill, and hung on to the pommel of the
saddle as the animal plunged down sharply.
At the bottom of the hill, Joe reined him to a stop, allowing both of
them to catch their breath. Joe looked to his right.
In the distance, he could see Fort Benson. He checked the sun. It was
close to noon. Once
again, Joe kicked the horse into a gallop.
A surge of adrenaline raced through Joe’s body now that he could see
the Fort. The gates were partially open as he rode up, with two soldiers on
guard duty. The soldiers stopped
him as he tried to ride into the fort.
“Hold
it, mister,” said one of the soldiers, barring Joe’s path.
Joe pulled his horse to a stop.
“My
name’s Joe Cartwright,” he said. “My
father, Ben Cartwright, is in the Fort. I need to see him right away.”
“Sorry,”
said the second soldier. “No one
goes in until the Paiutes arrive and the treaty is signed.
Orders.”
Joe
dismounted. “Look,” he said
urgently. “I’ve GOT to delay
that treaty signing. If you don’t
let me in, there going to be a massacre.”
The two
soldiers looked at each other, trying to decide what to do.
“The colonel said no one gets in” the
first soldier finally stated firmly. “You can’t just ride up here with some
wild story and expect us to disobey the colonel.”
Joe was
too tired to argue with the men. He
turned as if he was going to walk away, then whirled and punched one of the
soldiers in the jaw. Before the
other could react, Joe shoved him out of the way and started to run through the
gates. The two soldiers got up from
the ground and started chasing Joe, yelling for him to stop. One
caught up with Joe and tackled him. Joe
struggled to escape his grasp, as the second grabbed his shoulders.
The three struggled and rolled on the ground.
‘What’s
going on here?” an authoritative voice shouted.
The soldiers let Joe go and stood at attention.
Joe looked up wearily and stared into the face of a colonel.
“Colonel,
this man tried to break into the fort, “ one of the soldiers said stiffly,
still standing at attention.
“That’s my son!” a voice said from behind the colonel. Ben Cartwright brushed past the colonel and helped Joe to his feet. Several other officers and soldiers hurriedly joined the group.
“Joe,
what are you doing here?” Ben asked in astonishment.
He was alarmed at his son’s appearance.
Joe’s eyes were bloodshot and his face was etched with fatigue.
Ben noted with concern the bruise over his son’s eye and the streaks of
blood on the side of his face. It seemed he could see more dirt than skin on
Joe’s face.
Joe
grabbed his father’s arms. “Pa, you’ve got to delay the treaty signing.
If you don’t, you all are going to be killed,” Joe blurted out.
“You
two, get back to your post,” the colonel gestured toward the two soldiers.
Both saluted and left. The colonel turned toward Joe.
“Now, what’s this all about?” asked the colonel sternly.
Joe
glanced at the colonel, and took a deep breath. He looked straight at his
father, confident that Ben would believe him.
“Hoss and I followed Charley Scroggins yesterday morning near Oak
Meadow,” he explained. “He met
a man there, and we heard him tell the man that one of the captains here was
trying to start a war. Scroggins was going to sell guns to the Piautes once the
war started.”
“Start
a war! That’s preposterous!”
the colonel said.
“No
sir, “ Joe said. “It’s the
truth. The captain’s name is
Johnson. He’s going to blow up
your office once everyone is in it.”
“That’s
ridiculous,” said one of the officers, stepping forward.
“I’m Captain Johnson. That’s
the most outrageous lie I’ve ever heard.”
“Do
you have any proof?” the colonel asked Joe.
Joe
shook his head. “All I know is he
planted a load of dynamite under your office.
He was going to leave the office once everyone was in it and light the
dynamite.”
“Colonel,
this man is obviously crazy,” Johnson said.
“My
son doesn’t lie,” said Ben. “Colonel,
I suggest you send someone to check under your office immediately.”
The
colonel nodded toward one of the officers.
The man ran toward the back of the fort,
followed by two soldiers.
“Captain
Johnson, you wouldn’t mind if we
searched your quarters, would you?” asked the colonel.
“Searched
my quarters? Why?” said Johnson nervously.
“To
see if there’s any evidence of what this young man says is true, “ answered
the colonel. The
officer returned with a dozen tightly wrapped sticks of dynamite in his hand. He
showed them to the colonel. “We
found these under your office, “ the officer said.
“Looks
like at least part of this young man’s story is true,” the colonel said.
“Major, I want you to
search Captain Johnson’s quarters immediately.”
Johnson
suddenly bolted toward some horses tied nearby.
Several soldiers grabbed him as he neared the horses.
Johnson struggled briefly, then stopped. His body sagged in defeat.
“Take
the captain to the guardhouse pending a full investigation,” ordered the
colonel. Johnson was led away.
The
colonel turned back to Joe. “Looks
like we owe you a big debt of thanks, young man,” said the colonel.
Joe started to say something when a sense of fatigue overwhelmed him.
His head started to spin and his knees began to buckle.
Ben
grabbed his son’s arm and helped him stand.
“Joe,” Ben said in a worried voice.
“You said you and Hoss caught Scroggins yesterday morning.
How long have you been riding?”
Joe
shook his head wearily. “I
don’t know, “ he mumbled. “Since
we caught Scroggins.”
“You’ve
been the saddle almost thirty hours!” Ben said in dismay.
Joe nodded. He started to
sink to the ground again when an officer grabbed his other arm.
“I’m
the post doctor,” said the officer. “Let’s
get him over the infirmary.” Ben and the doctor half-carried an exhausted Joe
across the yard; the colonel followed close behind.
The doctor pushed the door of the infirmary open. A row of empty beds
lined the wall of a big room. The
doctor led Joe to the first bed and laid him across it.
Ben lifted his son’s legs onto the bed. The
doctor bent over Joe, examining him, while Ben and the colonel hovered anxiously
behind him. Joe closed his eyes, already falling asleep. After a few minutes,
the doctor straightened and turned toward the men.
“Nothing
wrong with him that a nice long
sleep won’t fix,” said the doctor reassuringly. “He’s just
exhausted. That cut on his head looks worse than it is. It won’t even need
stitches.”
A
soldier suddenly opened the door and poked his head in.
“Colonel, “ he said. “The Paiutes are here.”
The
colonel nodded. “Come on, Ben, we
have a treaty to sign.”
Ben
looked at the colonel and then at his sleeping son.
A look of uncertainly flickered across his face.
“Go
ahead, Mr. Cartwright,” said the doctor.
“There’s nothing you can do here. Your son will sleep for hours.
I’ll clean him up and make him comfortable.”
Ben
continued to gaze at Joe. His face
was filled with concern. Finally
Ben nodded. “All right,”
he said with a tinge of resignation in his voice. “Keep a close eye on him,
doctor, “
“Don’t
worry,” said the doctor. “He’ll
be fine.”
Ben
turned and took a few steps toward the door. He stopped and looked back at his
son. He took a deep breath, then left the room. The
sound of a bugle and the bustle of the fort starting the day finally woke Joe.
He rubbed his eyes and yawned as he sat up in bed.
Someone had removed his jacket, shirt and
boots, and covered him with a blanket.
The dirt and blood had been washed away. Joe
pushed aside the blanket. His body
was sore, every muscle aching. His
shoulders and legs throbbed. He
looked across the room. Ben was
asleep in an overstuffed chair by a
desk. The bed
creaked as Joe slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
The noise woke Ben.
“Joe,”
he said with a smile. “So
you’re finally awake. How do you
feel?”
“Stiff
and sore, “ admitted Joe. “How
long have I been asleep?”
Ben
walked over to his son. “Since
about noon yesterday. For awhile
there, I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up.”
Joe
took a deep breath. “Pa, I
don’t think I’ve ever been so tired. But
at least I got here in time.”
Ben laid his hand gently on his son’s shoulder. “Yes, you got here in time. How you did it, I’ll never know. I’m proud of you, son.”
Joe
gave him an embarrassed smile. “I
guess that stubborn streak you’re always complaining about came in handy this
time.” Ben laughed and clapped
him lightly on the shoulder.
“Did
you get the treaty signed?” Joe asked.
“Yes.
A lot happened while you were asleep. Captain Johnson confessed after they
searched his room and found some more dynamite. The colonel sent a patrol to
Virginia City to pick up Scroggins and that other fellow. They’ll let Hoss
know everything is all right. And,
most important, the Paiutes signed the treaty.”
“I
hope the treaty works this time,” said Joe.
“So
do I,” Ben said. “This one
almost cost me more than I bargained for.”
The
door opened and the doctor entered the infirmary.
He was carrying a covered tray. “I thought you might be awake by
now,” said the doctor with a smile. “I’m
Dr. Williams. You look a lot better
than you did yesterday. Hungry?”
“I
could eat a horse, “ said Joe, eyeing the tray.
“Well,
this is only army chow, but I guarantee it’s better than a horse,” the
doctor said. He handed the tray to
Joe. Joe whipped off the cover and
started eating. He almost shoved the food into his mouth.
“Slow down,” said the doctor. “You’ll
make yourself sick.”
Joe
looked up. “I always eat fast,
” he said with his mouth full. “You’ve never been at the table with my
brother, Hoss. If you don’t eat fast, you don’t get any food!”
Ben
laughed. “I think this one’s
going to be all right,” Ben said.
Joe grinned at his father.
“Pa,
we’ve got some horses to return on the way home, “ Joe said as he finished
eating.
“We’ll
take care of it. There’s no
rush,” Ben replied. “You rest
for a day or so. We’ll start back then.”
Joe
nodded. “Let’s take the easy
way back,” said Joe. "I’ve
already done it the hard way.”
Ben laughed again. “Anything you say, Joe,” he said, taking the tray from his son.
Joe eased his legs back on to the bed and sat back against the pillow. It was nice to hear his father’s laugh, he thought. He knew how close he came to never hearing it again. Hearing that laugh was worth what he went through, Joe decided. It was definitely worth it.
*****End*****
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