OM-CHAPTER2

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CHAPTER 2

KANSAS, 1842 - 1845

The long trek south-west to Kansas was accomplished by covered wagon, for which Sam Miller was just able to raise enough money to buy. The trail was made easier by companionship along the way of other settlers heading West to the promised green pastures and clear rivers full of fish. Another family heading towards Kansas befriended the Millers over the evening campfires. The Shermans had come from Austria via New York. Franz and Rina Sherman had a son and daughter almost the same ages as Orville and Sally. Johan was a well-built, spirited boy with brown hair and blue eyes. His little sister Susanna was blonde like her mother and also had very clear, bright blue eyes. Orville was used to girls with having his younger sister around, but tended to avoid Susanna - nine-year-old boys do not like nine-year-old girls. However, Orville became friendly with Johan, whose name he quickly Anglicised to John. He had a quick sense of fun and kept playing practical jokes on the sober Orville, who initially got really angry to the point of fighting John, but eventually he managed to think up some escapades of his own and took great pleasure in retribution - but, to Orville, retribution was not a laughing matter. The only emotion he felt was complete satisfaction that something he had planned had worked successfully. Eventually, John stopped playing practical jokes, as he was never sure if, or when, and in what form, Orville's 'getting even' would come, and Orville's plans got increasingly more vindictive as the trip wore on. John called it off after he had almost drunk a dead beetle in his coffee and found a poisonous snake in his boot. After that, the boys ceased hostilities and adopted a warily friendly attitude towards each other.

Having lived in New York for over two years, the Sherman children's command of English was excellent, although their parents had a little difficulty in making themselves understood.

At the beginning of the 1840s Kansas was a small but expanding town and was the terminus of the first cattle drives on the Shawnee Trail, which started in the deep South of Brownsville and came up via San Antonio, Dallas, Baxter Springs to Kansas City, Sedalia and St Louis. The longhorns were driven up the trail, sold and shipped east for the hungry immigrants of the Eastern Seaboard.

Out of money from the journey westwards, the Millers and Shermans stopped in Kansas to find work. Sam helped every autumn with the shipment of the cattle, and in between times he helped around the ranches which were growing around the city. Nancy and Sally lived in Kansas City in a rented room while Sam and his son worked to earn the cash to go West again. Orville learned to ride a horse and to help to cut out and brand steers. Every time Orville went into the city he would go to see John Sherman, who was helping his father as an assistant in a general store. In the evenings they would mix with the rowdy cowboys who had finished their trail drives and had money to burn.

In 1845, at the age of 14, Orville had grown into a tall, slenderly-built young man. He longed to go on a cattle drive, but knew he would have to go south join the drive in Brownsville. The wage of a trail drover was about a dollar a day, with an estimated 35 or 40 days' march per drive. Normally the drovers got in two drives each autumn. Orville worked out a plan and, as 1845 approached, he went to see his friend John.

Walking along the sidewalk going towards Orville s parents' rented room, Orville stopped and caught John by the arm.

"Hey, John - you fancy a bit of adventure?"

"Adventure?" asked John. "What do you mean?"

"Would you like to go on a trail drive with me?"

"A trail drive? I can only just ride a horse, Orville. I do not think I could ride trail."

"Ahhh you're chicken, that's all. Betcha you wouldn't last."

John's competitive spirit was aroused, as Orville knew it would be.

"How much you bet?"

"Five dollars."

"Five dollars! Where are you going to get that kind of money?"

"On the drive, stupid. The drovers get $30 a month, so you'd get $30 plus my $5 if you did it - but I reckon you can't."

"Oh, no? You're on. But what about our families?"

"Ah, they'll just have to do without us for a couple of months, won't they?"

"I'll tell my father that we're going - it would not be fair just to leave them without saying."

"That traildrive that's just come in - I reckon I know who the trailboss is. They've got time for another drive before the season ends - why don't we ride out south with them and get hired to come back to Kansas."

"What about food and horses?"

"I've got a couple of horses out at the ranch - I'll bring them in tomorrow night and we'll ride out with the cowboys before we're missed."

The yelling, whooping cowboys had spent all their money on wine and women and they were gradually filtering down south again.

The next night, with no word of farewell to his family, Orville stole the horses from the ranch, took some food from his mother's pantry while she was out doing chores, and met John round the back of the hotel.

"You ready?" he asked.

"Yes, but I didn't tell my parents, either. I left them a note instead. I sure hope they won't be mad at me."

"Sure they'll be mad at you - but a bet's a bet, right?"

"Right." replied John, but with a look of uncertainty on his face.

They mounted up and followed a bunch of noisy cowboys out of town. Amongst the group Orville had recognised the trailboss. Later, when the cowboys stopped for the night, Orville and John boldly rode up.

The trailboss turned at the sound of the approaching horses.

"Weeelll - what have we here?" he drawled as he stood, hands on hips.

John spoke up when be saw that his friend was not going to. "We want to join a drive, sir."

"Oh, you do, do you? You're nuthin' but a green kid." Looking at Orville, he added: "In fact, you both are. Cain't set a hoss straight, even!" and the rest of the cowboys laughed jeeringly.

For the first time Orville raised his head, and looked straight at the trailboss.

"I've been a cowboy since I was 12!" he declared.

"Oh? An' how old are you now, kid?"

"Fourteen, and so's my friend." replied Orville.

"Why, you're still wet behind the ears, boy!" and the cowboys laughed again. Orville felt anger rising in him.

"Look," he said, as commandingly as he could, "we're signin' up for the return drive when we get to Brownsville, and that's it!"

"OK, OK!"replied the trailboss, holding his hands up in mock surrender and joining in the laughter of his cowboys. "You ride along with us, and I'll see if'n I kin fix you up."

The ride south took 20 days and was uneventful, except for the occasional sight of peaceful Indians in their teepees.

In Brownsville the trailboss, called Devlin, signed Orville and John up. Being new drovers, Devlin made them ride drag at the back of the herd of 300 longhorns for the first 10 days of the drive. It was the dustiest, dirtiest job of all, but at last the boys were doing what they wanted to do. After the first 10 days, Devlin posted them to ride flank, which involved a lot of chasing after strays and herding them back to the main body of the drive. After completing that job successfully, Devlin posted them to ride point at the top of the herd, guiding them in the right direction. The 20 drovers rotated the riding positions daily, so, as the drive neared Kansas, John and Orville had had experience in all areas of cattle droving.

John turned out to be a natural horseman and quickly became skilled in the art of droving. It was, however, while John and Orville were riding point that a dangerous situation occurred. Riding slightly ahead of Orville, John, fatigued by the demanding routine and having had a spell of nighthawk duty the night before, started to doze in the saddle. The herd was trailing right behind them. Orville looked over to his partner and saw John's head dropping. He gave a warning shout to wake him up, and simultaneously he heard a threatening rattle in the scrub just in front of John's horse. The horse reared and plunged, unseating its exhausted rider. John landed with a sickening thump. He tried to get up but fell unconscious. The herd, suddenly frightened by the plunging horse and noise of the rattlesnake, began to mill. Orville cut across the leading steers and jumped off his horse at John's side. Still unconscious, John was a deadweight for Orville to pick up, but, with a burst of adrenalin, Orville hoisted John up and over the saddle of his horse and, leaping up into the saddle himself, spurred away to the side and flank of the herd. Four more experienced flankers quickly rode up front and calmed the restless cattle and the crisis had passed. Orville rode John back to the chuckwagon. Devlin followed them back.

"What the hell happened up there?" he shouted angrily.

"Sherman's horse got spooked by a rattler and it threw him, knocked him out." replied Orville, trying to keep calm.

"It's part of your job to watch out for that kinda danger, dammit!" Meanwhile, John was slowly coming round, and he groaned.

Devlin whirled on him, grabbing his jacket collar. "Were you sleepin', you lazy, good fer nuthin' sonofa prairie dog?"

John tried to focus his eyes but failed.

"Leave him be, Devlin - cain't you see he's hurt?" Orville was rapidly losing both his patience and temper.

"He damn nearly caused the whole herd to stampede!" yelled Devlin, his face contorted in rage as he shook the semi-conscious youth.

"Take your dirty hands offa him, Devlin, I'm warnin' you!" Orville pushed Devlin back and away from the prone figure.

"You, kid, warnin' me?" shouted Devlin. "Why you ..." and he took a swing at Orville, who stepped back and parried the blow. Light and quick on his feet, Orville dodged the hail of blows Devlin was attempting to land on him. The cook stayed out of it, so Orville saw that there was nothing for it but to fight or run. He chose to fight and, once Devlin was tiring, he landed one punch that laid the incensed man out.

Leaving him lying there, Orville returned to John's side. He was sitting in the chuckwagon, holding his head. "What happened?" he asked, groggily.

"Your horse threw you."

A deep gash was oozing blood on the side of John's head. Orville untied his bandana and, dipping it in the water barrel, he tied it gently round his friend's head. Behind him, Devlin came up, grabbed his shoulder and spun him round.

"You're fired, the both of you! Get off the drive!"

"Not before you've paid us our dues!" retorted Orville, his dark eyes flashing with anger.

"The hell I will!"

"The hell you will!" echoed Orville, a gun, which had been lying in the chuckwagon a moment before, suddenly appearing in his hand. I reckon you owe us thirty dollars each, Mr Devlin. Now!" and he cocked the gun.

Devlin saw the hate flash in Orville's eyes, his mouth a straight line of determination. He looked round for support, but the rest of the men were droving and the cook was driving the chuckwagon. Thinking quickly, he realised it would be better to get these potential troublemakers off his hands by paying them the money. He reached into his jacket pocket. Orville, frightened lest he held a gun in there, threatened him with his own.

"OK, OK kid, I'm jest reachin' fer my wallet!"

"Reach real slow, Mr Devlin!" warned Orville. He slowly peeled off the notes and threw them on the floor of the wagon then he spat on the money, turned on his heel and mounted his horse, which was jogging alongside the wagon. "Don't let me see either of you ever again!" and he spurred his horse away.

The cook called back from the driver's seat. "How'd you feel, son? Reckon you kin ride?"

"Reckon I'll have to, Mushy!" John replied with a rueful grin.

"Problem is, they're not our horses!" observed Orville.

"Oh, lit out afore Devlin realises! Go on, git!"

So Orville and John got - fast.

The dust of the drive covered their departure.

"Where we gonna go now, Orville?" asked a still fuzzy-headed John after they had put some distance between themselves and the herd.

"Reckon we should find somewhere to hole up till you feel a bit better."

Riding west, way from the Trail, they found a disused shack. It took John a couple of days before he felt steady on his feet again, during which time Orville first shot, than trapped, anything he could find for food. There was a clear, pure stream nearby for water.

"So much for bein' a drover!" grunted Orville, sardonically.

"I still haven't thanked you for saving my life, Orville."

"Ah, it was nuthin'. You'd've done the same for me, I reckon."

"But the herd could have trampled me to death!"

"Well, it didn't, so jest shut up about it, OK?"

"OK." and they sat in companionable silence.

"Where are we going to go next?" reiterated John.

"Home, I reckon," said Orville quietly, leaning forward and dropping his head.

"Tired adventuring?" goaded John.

"Of course not. You got any better ideas?"

"Heard tell they're recruiting for the Mexican War!" suggested John, his blue eyes shining.

"The Mexican War! A man could get killed!" exclaimed Orville, but John saw the flash of enthusiasm in his friend's face.