Philip Dampier's Blog

Shootout at the Spring

Episode Eleven

“Parson, are you new to this part of the country?”

“Yes, I am. I come from eastern Tennessee. I held pastorates in several towns east of Knoxville. You know where that is?”

“I’m afraid so, all too well, as a matter of fact.”

“Where you from, Marshal?”

“Ohio. A small place named Zanesville. I asked you that question because of the way you acted towards your animals when we stopped.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t see they got water, and you didn’t unburden them and dry them off.”

“They seemed alright to me. What’s the problem?”

“Look around you, Parson; what do you see?”

“Not much, grass and more grass. Mountains in the distance.”

“You enjoy riding?”

“It sure beats walking.”

“Exactly. Out here, your most important possession is your horse or mule. In this country, you take care of your animals first, then yourself. If your horse gets sick or weak and you are left afoot, you are in a lot of trouble. The horse gets water first, food first, and its body wiped clean and dried.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“If you intend to survive out here, you better make it your top priority.”

Again, the preacher seemed to be thinking over what the marshal had said. He was used to being the teacher, but was smart enough to know that he was in new territory in more ways than one.

Although it was not steep, the riders had a sense of moving higher and higher. The stream was not rushing downhill, but it was obviously running to lower land. Here and there, it widened and slowed as it hit a level spot, but its course was steadily downhill. Ahead of them, a larger hill arose, one so high they were not able to see over it. Here the water tumbled past them at a faster rate, cutting shallow banks in the sod. Small trees grew out to what might have been the flood stage of the stream. Chad felt a sudden sense of anticipation.

They topped the long rise to discover a wide plateau stretching into the distant horizon. Right in front of them, less than a half-mile away, a large flock of white sheep was grazing in the tall, thick grass. Chad could make out at least three black and white dogs on various sides of the flock. The sheep were moving very slowly, grazing as they walked, and the dogs seemed interested only in keeping them together rather than driving them towards some destination. Off to one side, with his back to the sun, was a small rider patiently sitting on his mount.

“There’s the main flock,” the preacher called out, “I’m sure of it. We can’t be too far from the first homestead.

“What do you mean, the main flock?”

“The settlers who are raising sheep are keeping them together and dividing the shepherding among themselves. Gives them more time to build up their homesteads.”

“Is everyone raising sheep?”

“No, two are raising cattle, I understand. They’ve divided up the valley to stay out of each other’s way.”

“Do you think more settlers will come?”

“That’s why I’m here; they are coming. This is wonderful grazing country; people will bring their families and their livestock.”

Another mile and a group of sod buildings came into view. The marshal and the preacher rode straight toward the larger of the buildings. Chad stopped several feet short of the door and called out, “Hello, the house.”

The door opened, and two small heads popped out, followed by the adult shape of a woman who appeared to be their mother. She looked tired. She tried to move the straying hair from her face, but neither the hair nor the wind would cooperate. She wiped her hands on the worn brown apron that covered her dress from chest to knees.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“My name is Samuel A. Linwood, and this is U.S. Marshal Chad Pennington. I’m here to help start a church in the valley.”

“Oh, you’re the man my husband wrote to about our need for a preacher.”

“Yes, ma’am. May I speak to him, please?”

“He and some other men have gone to the forest to fell some trees. They’ll be gone a few days.”

“I see. What are my arrangements, if I may ask?”

“The men and boys have made a small sod house for you next to the spring. You should go there, I think. One of the ranchers will be in the area, and he’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Rawlson. Rawlson is correct, is it not?”

“Yes, April Rawlson; these two are Billy and Penelope.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, young folks. May I ask how far it is to the spring?”

“About a mile or so. Just follow the little stream. I can hardly wait for Sunday.”

“Me as well. Marshal, do you want to see the spring?”

“No thanks, Parson. I’m going to resume my mission. I hope to cut across the prairie at an angle and make up some time. God bless you.”

“May he bless you too, Marshal. You probably saved my life. I wish you success.”

Chad tipped his hat to Mrs. Rawlson, waved to the preacher, and turned Buck towards the spring-fed stream. The two of them crossed the shallow stream, and once up on the prairie, Chad urged the gelding to a steady lope. He set his eyes on the first tall hill of the Black Hills. Buck had not had a chance to run in several days, and he took full advantage of the long rolling grassland.

After two hours of that mile-eating pace, Chad slowed his horse down to give him a breather. He could see the heavily timbered slopes on the first of Black Hills mountains. In the clear air, it was difficult to determine how far away they were. It might be as close as twenty miles or twice that distance. Chad determined to ride as long as he could do so safely. He would not make a fire out on the prairie but make do with the remaining pieces of buffalo jerky for the evening.

The sky changed color, reflecting the various hues of orange and pink along the edges of the distant mountains. Chad kept hoping for a creek or small spring so that he could give Buck water. They would just have to share his canteen and hope that water would show up the next day. He knew he had pushed the two of them hard, and without water the next day, he would be forced to slow down. Darkness would have stopped him sooner, but a large full moon climbed into the sky to replace the sun. They rode on. Chad kept a sharp lookout for any Lakota Sioux. The Black Hills were sacred to them and he was a trespasser.

After a few hours, Chad felt the effects of the long day. He found a sheltered draw and unsaddled Buck. Once the grooming was over, he put the hobbles on his mount and made a quick bed from the horse blanket. He was tired, and in spite of the brightness of the moon and the howl of coyotes, he fell asleep within minutes of his head resting on the saddle.

Nancy

Nancy awoke to the same morning routine as the previous days, with the addition of slight diarrhea. The fact that it was her day off from the hotel allowed her to take her time. She had a slice of toasted bread for breakfast and waited to see if it would stay down. It didn’t. It was time to find out what was going on. She dressed, thinking she would go see one of the two doctors at the fort. If she didn’t get over this virus or whatever it was, she would soon be too weak to work. She needed to work. Not just for the money but to keep her mind occupied until she knew Chad was safe.

She would also use the day to clean their little house and do the wash. There was not much laundry since Chad had not been home, and she had not changed her wardrobe much while working. She opened the front door and then closed it. A drop in temperature had brought a chill, and a steady wind worsened it. The brief exposure sent a shiver through her body. She located a woolen shawl from the spare room and put it around her shoulders. It was several blocks to the doctor’s office and just as many back.

She wished there were other women in the town, but all the females beside her were at the fort with their officer husbands or working in the saloon next to the fort. It would be nice to talk to someone besides the patrons at the hotel and the workers at the café. The way Chad had talked, she had expected more and more families to move into the area, but so far, that had not happened.