The Legend of Perley Gates Read online

  They had not gone far when they came upon the body of the large black dog. Jonah dropped to his knees beside it. “Bear,” he moaned. “They shot Bear.”

  Fully distraught, he started to pull the arrow out of the dog’s chest, but it was buried deep and was not easy to dislodge. That told Perley that the dog was shot at very close range. But he was more interested in how much farther the Indians had run and whether or not there might be another arrow coming their way.

  When Jonah seemed unable to leave the dead dog, Perley scanned the edge of the trees before them but could see no one in the darkness beyond. Satisfied that there was no immediate danger of attack, he knelt beside Jonah and checked the dog.

  “He’s dead. Ain’t nothin’you can do for him now.” When Jonah still refused to move, Perley said, “I’m goin’ on up to the other side of the trees.” He rose to his feet again and left Jonah to mourn his dog.

  After scouting all along the tree line by the creek and finding no trace of the Sioux raiders, Perley had to conclude that they had flown. When he returned to the spot where he had left Jonah, Perley found him still kneeling beside the dog. He said, “You musta thought a heap of that dog, but I reckon it’s best to go on back now and let your folks know you’re all right.”

  * * *

  “It’s him!” Gray Wolf had gasped when he saw Perley searching for them along the trees lining the creek. “I knew he was still here. I could feel it!”

  Hiding in a gully near the wagon road, he notched an arrow and started to rise up but was held back by Cripple Horse and Walking Man.

  “He is too far for your bow!” Walking Man charged. “You will bring them all down on us. You have let this white man get into your head.”

  “Have you no iron in your blood?” Gray Wolf scorned. “One white man has made us like women, with no horses, and afraid to fight.”

  “I think this white man has big medicine,” Cripple Horse argued. “And now he has the other white men to help him. All of them have guns. Our bows are like nothing against them.”

  “What Cripple Horse says is true,” Walking Man said. “It is foolish to fight when there is no chance to win. It is best to leave this white man alone and go from this place. There are many white settlers moving into this country. It is much easier to steal horses and ammunition from those who come to make their farms on our land.”

  “I agree,” Cripple Horse said. “We have wasted too much time trying to kill this man and take back our horses. I say we should go back north to the big river the white man calls the North Platte, where the wagon trains roll across the prairie. We will find horses and food there.”

  Gray Wolf could plainly see that Cripple Horse and Walking Man were no longer willing to follow him against the white man with the crazy horse. Realizing he had little chance of success if he attempted to attack the trading post by himself, he followed reluctantly when they climbed up from the gully and slipped back across the road to disappear into the night.

  * * *

  Back at the trading post, no one was inclined to go to bed after the scare of an Indian raid, so Joanna Temple fired up her iron stove again to make coffee for her menfolk. Stella and Liz were invited to bring their bedrolls inside the store for the night, as was Perley. He, however, graciously declined, saying he felt he should guard his horses during the night. Even though they felt sure the Indians would not be back, Temple’s sons were sent to keep watch on the barn and the corral.

  Liz and Stella were pleased to accept the invitation, since it was warm inside the store and Temple closed the wooden shutters on the windows to guard against an attack. The one person who was distraught to see the two women move from the barn was Temple’s youngest son, Josh, who was left with nothing beyond his youthful imagination when it came to the mystery of women.

  In spite of her suspicions regarding the two women with Perley, Joanna attempted to make them feel welcome. “We’re so sorry you had the bad luck to suffer an Indian raid,” she said to them. “I surely hope you don’t have any more before you reach your friend in Cheyenne.”

  “It wasn’t really much of a raid, Mother,” Temple said to his wife, “just some renegade Injuns tryin’ to steal horses.” He wanted to discourage conversation between his wife and the two whores, afraid she might pick up a clue as to what was going on in the barn just before the raid.

  He cringed a few moments later when she noticed some pieces of hay on Stella’s back and reached over to pick them off her blouse. “My gracious, dear, you look like you’ve been rolling in the hayloft. How did you get hay all over you?”

  Stella started, then paused when she heard Liz giggle. “Why, I don’t know,” she answered. “It musta been when I took some hay outta the barn and carried it back to our camp to use under my blanket.”

  “You shoulda had one of the boys do that for you,” Joanna said. “I think they were in the barn doing something. I thought I mighta heard ’em, but Lou said they were fixin’ to go to bed. You know, my hearing ain’t as good as it used to be.”

  “It was no trouble at all,” Stella said, doing her best to keep a straight face while ignoring the sheepish grins in place on the faces of Elam and Jonah. “The boys have been eager to help Liz and me,” she couldn’t resist adding, and smiled, herself, when she saw Perley roll his eyes upward.

  * * *

  Although Perley and Temple’s sons remained alert for the rest of the night, it was obvious that the Indians had been discouraged from making another attempt. In spite of no sleep, Perley was ready to get his little party on the road early and was knocking on the front door of the store soon after sunup.

  Having spent a comfortable night indoors, Liz and Stella were not enthusiastic about getting an early start, especially since Perley didn’t plan to let them eat breakfast until it was time to rest the horses.

  “You ain’t on a cattle drive,” Liz complained. “We don’t have to start in the middle of the night.”

  Perley opened one of the window shutters to let in the gray light of dawn. “It ain’t hardly the middle of the night,” he pointed out. “You and Stella get your blankets up, and I’ll saddle the horses. We need to get on the road.”

  He said his good-byes to Lou and his wife and left to get the horses ready.

  With the packhorse loaded and the saddles on three of the six horses, Perley led them back to the trading post to pick up the women. Elam and Jonah seemed especially attentive to the women’s needs, carrying their bedrolls for them and tying them on behind their saddles. Joanna Temple watched her two sons and was pleased to see their polite attention to the women’s needs. She felt proud to know she had raised them to respect women, and decided she wouldn’t tell them that the two women were probably prostitutes. Wouldn’t hurt for Josh to learn a lesson from his older brothers, she thought, noticing that he made no move to help the ladies.

  With a final tip of the hat, Perley turned Buck’s nose toward the road and headed west once again, hoping to reach Cheyenne in a day and a half.

  * * *

  About twenty miles due north of Duck Bend, the three Sioux renegades sat by a small fire and shared one rabbit, the only game they had come upon that morning. Having walked through the night, they were not in a jovial mood.

  “I hope we can find more than a rabbit to eat sometime today,” Cripple Horse complained. “It is not easy to travel when my stomach is so empty. It growled all night while we walked.”

  “You do not eat,” Walking Man said to Gray Wolf.

  “I am not hungry,” Gray Wolf spat. “I cannot think of eating when that white devil is still alive. I will eat again when I cut his heart out of his body.”

  Walking Man and Cripple Horse exchanged worried glances. “You must eat to keep your body strong,” Walking Man said. “We might never cross paths with the white man again.”

  “I will cross his path again,” Gray Wolf stated firmly. “Until I do, you eat the rabbit.” He tossed the rabbit leg on the ground between them, then turne
d over on his side to sleep.

  Walking Man picked up the rabbit leg, brushed the dirt off, took a healthy bite of it, then handed it to Cripple Horse.

  Cripple Horse looked at Gray Wolf as he lay there with his back to them. Then he looked up at Walking Man and slowly shook his head. “We should sleep a little while before we start walking again,” he said.

  They were sure they had covered two thirds of the distance between Lodgepole Creek and the North Platte River during the night. And if they were correct in their figuring, they would strike the river before noon that day. The last time they were there they were lucky—they found some antelope. Maybe they would be lucky again. With that to hope for, they lay down and went to sleep.

  “Wake up,” Cripple Horse said and shook Walking Man on the shoulder.

  “What is it?” Walking Man asked.

  “Gray Wolf,” Cripple Horse answered. “He is not here.”

  Walking Man sat up and looked all around him and saw no trace of Gray Wolf, but he was not concerned. “He has gone to relieve himself,” he decided, even though there were no bushes of any size near the tiny stream they had stopped by. He could think of no other explanation.

  “The white devil has made him crazy,” Cripple Horse insisted. “While we slept, he went back to kill the white man.”

  Walking Man was reluctant to believe that and said as much, so Cripple Horse walked a dozen yards back the way they had come the night just passed. He studied the ground until he found Gray Wolf’s tracks heading back south. “See!” he cried. “The tracks do not lie. He said he would find him. He has gone back.”

  “We must hurry and catch him!” Walking Man exclaimed. “He will be shot!”

  Cripple Horse did not share in his friend’s anxiety for Gray Wolf. “I will not go back to try to stop him,” he stated firmly. “One man cannot tell another man what he must do. Gray Wolf’s mind has gone. We have told him what we think, and still he is determined to find the white man. He will be killed. I will go on to the big river. You must decide what you must do.”

  Walking Man thought about what Cripple Horse said. He could not deny the truth in his friend’s words. After a few moments, he said, “Maybe you are right. We have done our best to save him from killing himself. There is no reason for us to commit suicide with him.”

  CHAPTER 8

  The morning passed without incident as they followed the common road to Cheyenne. When Perley deemed it time for a rest, he picked a spot beside the creek where there were plenty of trees before he stopped for breakfast. By this time, they had traveled together enough to have settled into a routine for making camp, so there was little time wasted in gathering wood, starting a fire, and preparing breakfast while Perley took care of the horses.

  “I sure will be glad to eat something besides sowbelly and pan biscuits,” Stella commented as she tended the meat in the pan.

  “At least we got a couple of oven-baked biscuits at Duck Bend,” Liz said. “I don’t think ol’ Temple’s wife was too tickled to give ’em to the likes of us.” She chuckled when she pictured the tiny woman.

  “Took an Injun raid to do it,” Stella said and joined her in laughing.

  She was distracted then when her gaze lit on Perley stroking Buck’s face. “Look at ol’ Perley down by the creek. He talks more to that horse than he talks to us.” She looked at Liz and grinned. “We’re runnin’ outta time on our bet—ain’t but one more night before we get to Cheyenne, if he’s right about the distance.”

  “Uh-huh,” Liz replied. “Gettin’ a little worried about payin’ me that dollar, are you?”

  “Shoot, no,” Stella insisted. “Mark my words, he’s gotta be thinkin’ about tonight being his last chance. He’ll come callin’—you just get that dollar ready to hand over.”

  Perley was the topic of their conversation for a while then. It occurred to them how little they knew about him, for he never volunteered any information about himself. They knew that he worked cattle, and that was only because Liz had sat down at the table with him and his two brothers in the saloon in Ogallala. Other than that, they knew he had come this way in hopes of finding his grandpa, who was the reason for his peculiar name. It was easy to see that he was bashful and shy around women.

  “You reckon he’s as green as those Temple boys when it comes to women?” Liz wondered.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Stella said. “I’d like to be the one to break him in—be more fun than those boys last night.”

  Unaware that he was being discussed, Perley looked up toward the campfire when the aroma of boiling coffee reached his nostrils. A fresh, hot cup of it was the only temptation he had on his mind, so he gave Buck a final pat on his face and walked up to the fire to join his traveling companions.

  “Just about ready,” Liz greeted him. “Set yourself down. Stella, pour the man a cup of coffee.”

  “Here you go, Perley,” Stella said, handing him a cup. “Got your own cup—don’t have to wait for me or Liz to finish with one.”

  “Reckon not,” Perley said. “Thank you.”

  He took the cup, wondering why both women had such silly grins on their faces. If he didn’t know for a fact that there was none with them, he might have suspected they had gotten hold of some whiskey.

  They relaxed under the trees until Perley figured the horses were ready to go again; then they were back on track, with Perley leading and the women riding side by side behind him.

  When the afternoon grew long and the sun began to sink lower on the horizon, Stella rode up beside him. “How much longer do you figure we’ll be ridin’ before we camp for the night?”

  “We can stop anytime now, I reckon, if you women are gettin’ tired. I haven’t seen a real good spot in the last couple of miles. Not many trees.”

  “That’s a fact,” she said. “Let’s keep goin’ till we find one, ’cause this is the last night we’ll be campin’ together. Tomorrow our trip will be over, so tonight’s spot oughta be a good one.”

  “Oh,” he replied. “Well, I reckon you’re right. We’ll try to find us a good one. I don’t wanna push the horses too far anyway.” He had planned to travel farther that day to get a little closer to Cheyenne, but if they wanted to stop early, he’d go along with it.

  “Dumb as a stump,” Stella said to Liz when she dropped back beside her again.

  “I told you,” Liz said. “Havin’ a roll in the hay with a woman doesn’t ever cross his mind.”

  “That ain’t normal,” Stella insisted. “There’s something mighty wrong with him.” She paused, then added, “Or with us.”

  “I expect it’s with us,” Liz said. “And I reckon I don’t blame him.”

  “We’ll see,” Stella said. “The night ain’t over yet.”

  They traveled on for close to two miles before reaching a stretch where another stream flowed into Lodgepole Creek, creating a fairly thick border of trees and bushes, with grass for the horses as well. Perley pointed Buck’s head toward the middle of it, rode up to the edge of the creek, and stopped.

  “Won’t find a spot much better’n this,” he announced and stepped down from the saddle.

  The women went to work right away on the nightly routine while Perley tended the horses. As he had before, he hobbled all the horses but Buck to ensure they stayed close, in case of horse thieves. The three Sioux hostiles who had been following them were no longer seen as a threat, so close to Cheyenne, but there was no sense in getting careless.

  When Perley returned to the fire, he was carrying an armload of wood to help the women out. When he dropped it on the ground nearby, Stella said, “Thank you, kind sir. For that, you get a cup of fresh, hot coffee.” She poured him a cup. “Anything else we can do special for you for escortin’ me and Liz all the way to Cheyenne?”

  “Reckon not,” Perley said. “Biscuits seem special enough.” He glanced at Liz when she seemed to find that humorous.

  He had to admit that he might have felt like celebrating this la
st night, for it meant that he could soon deliver them to Cheyenne safely, and then he would be free to head for Colorado Territory to look for his grandpa. But there was something that had to be taken care of before he would feel like any celebration. Maybe, he thought, the biscuits might help soften the sharp pains he had been experiencing in his gut all afternoon in the saddle. Suspect, to him, was the slab of bacon he had brought from Ogallala, thinking it might have become rancid. He hadn’t said anything about it to the women, since they hadn’t complained, but he felt a definite storm building in his bowels, and he was afraid it was going to have to be dealt with pretty soon. Thankful for the fading light as the sun finally sank below the horizon, he felt he could rid his system of its burden.

  “I need to take another look at the horses,” he announced, set his cup down, and walked quickly toward the horses drinking at the edge of the creek.

  “Don’t be too long,” Stella called after him. “My biscuits are gonna be ready pretty quick.”

  Without turning around, he acknowledged her with a simple wave of his arm. When he got to the horses, he kept walking and headed toward a row of thick laurel bushes. As he anticipated, his relief came immediately. Thankfully, there were plenty of leaves to serve his purpose. Feeling he was comfortable enough to enjoy Stella’s biscuits then, he returned to the camp.

  “Anything worryin’ you about the horses?” Stella asked.

  “No, not a thing,” he answered quickly, embarrassed to think she might have suspected the real purpose for his sudden concern for the horses. “I just wanted to make sure they were all right.”

  Stella’s biscuits were as good as she had boasted. Even the bacon tasted different to him than that they had cooked for breakfast. He supposed just that one slab had been rancid and the rest was all right. Whatever the reason, he felt no distress after finishing his supper. They sat by the fire and finished the coffee; then the women cleaned up the utensils.

  “Anything else we can do for you, Perley?” Stella asked.