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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