The Santa Fe Trail (Trail Drive Series #10)

The Santa Fe Trail (Trail Drive Series #10)

by Ralph Compton
The Santa Fe Trail (Trail Drive Series #10)

The Santa Fe Trail (Trail Drive Series #10)

by Ralph Compton

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Overview

An extraordinary saga of the trail-blazing cowboys who made their fortune driving cattle from Texas to the Great Frontier.

They left Missouri and were headed to Santa Fe. Standing in their way was a parched desert, a land of outlaws and enemies-and one man's dangerous past.

He was a wealthy englishman with two beautiful daughters. They were five dusty texans and a gambling man. And they were all on the ride of their lives.

The only riches Texans had left after the Civil War were five million maverick longhorns and the brains, brawn and boldness to drive them north to where the money was. Now, Ralph Compton brings this violent and magnificent time to life in an extraordinary epic series based on the history-making trail drives.

The Santa Fe Trail

Gavin McCord and his brawling cowboys came to Missouri with a problem: 3,500 longhorns and not one buyer. That's where Gladstone Pitkin came in. A man with money and a dream of ranching in New Mexico, Pitkin bought McCord's cattle and hired his Texans for a trail drive from Independence to Santa Fe. But with an ill-fated gambler on the drive, the courageous, hardened riders weren't just a thousand brutal miles from Santa Fe-they were heading into a death trap.


Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781429903172
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group
Publication date: 04/15/1997
Series: Trail Drive Series , #10
Sold by: Macmillan
Format: eBook
Pages: 320
Sales rank: 820,180
File size: 415 KB

About the Author

Ralph Compton stood six-foot-eight without his boots. His first novel in the Trail Drive series, The Goodnight Trail, was a finalist for the Western Writers of America Medicine Pipe Bearer Award for best debut novel. He was also the author of the Sundown Rider series and the Border Empire series. A native of St. Clair County, Alabama, Compton worked as a musician, a radio announcer, a songwriter, and a newspaper columnist before turning to writing westerns. He died in Nashville, Tennessee, in 1998.


Ralph Compton stood six-foot-eight without his boots. His first novel in the Trail Drive series, The Goodnight Trail, was a finalist for the Western Writers of America Medicine Pipe Bearer Award for best debut novel. He was also the author of the Sundown Rider series and the Border Empire series. A native of St. Clair County, Alabama, Compton worked as a musician, a radio announcer, a songwriter, and a newspaper columnist before turning to writing westerns. He died in Nashville, Tennessee in 1998.

Read an Excerpt

The Santa Fe Trail


By Ralph Compton

St. Martin's Press

Copyright © 1997 Ralph Compton
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-0317-2


CHAPTER 1

"Splendid, gentlemen," Pitkin said. "Mr. Kelly, consider yourself hired."

Nell and Naomi clapped their hands.

"What would you have us do first, Mr. Pitkin?" Woodrow inquired.

"Kindly refrain from referring to me as Mister Pitkin," said the Englishman. You may call me Gladstone or Pitkin."

"With all due respect to England," Woodrow said, "I'd rather just call you Pit, and you can call me Woody."

"So be it," said Pitkin. "How many more men do you feel that I need?"

"Five of us brought the herd from Texas," Gavin McCord said. "The herd's already trail-wise, and with Nip, there's six of us. Unless you know somethin' we don't, the six of us should be enough."

"Provided," said Kelly, "you aim to hire a cook. You'll need a chuck wagon, too."

"Perhaps I'll be more fortunate in the hiring of a cook than I have been in the hiring of a crew," Pitkin said. "Will some of you men inquire as to the availability and the cost of a chuck wagon?"

"A new chuck wagon won't cost more than a hundred dollars," said Woody, "and any wagon yard in town should have at least one. Since you've hired us as an outfit, I'm goin' to suggest something. Why don't you let us find the chuck wagon and scout the town for a cook? Any range cook worth his salt will be able to go to a general store and load the chuck wagon with all the grub and supplies you'll need."

"Splendid, Woody," Pitkin exclaimed. "What else have I overlooked?"

"Pit," said Vic, "your ladies ought to go to the general store and outfit themselves as cowboys. In men's duds, like us."

"In trousers?" Pitkin said. "In England that would be unheard of."

"You're a long way from England," said Rusty Pryor.

"Father," Naomi said, "they're right, and they're gentlemen enough not to have made a point of the obvious. Nell and me in skirts would make spectacles of ourselves each time we mount or dismount. The men couldn't keep their eyes on the herd for watching us."

Nell and Naomi weren't embarrassed in the slightest, and the men all laughed.

"Very well," said Pitkin. "I wasn't thinking of you riding astride."

"Oh, Father," Nell said in mock horror, "I'd walk from here to Santa Fe before I'd so much as consider a horrid sidesaddle."

Again the men all laughed, and this time Pitkin joined them.

"When I return to town," said Pitkin, "I'll make arrangements to purchase the herd. I will require a bill of sale, of course."

"It's customary to make a count of the herd," Woody said.

"I am trusting you to ride for me, to see to my affairs," said Pitkin. "Therefore, I will trust you for an honest count."

"That's generous of you," Gavin said. "We're Texans, and we'll ride for the brand."

"I should return to town," said Pitkin, "and begin terminating my business here."

"Some of us will go with you," Woody said. "We may be a while findin' a cook."

"Why don't you and Gavin find a chuck wagon and beat the bushes for a cook?" said Ash Pryor.

"Yeah," Rusty said, "and get him and the chuck wagon here in time for supper."

Pitkin and his daughters started for town, with Gavin and Woody riding behind the buckboard.

"Nip," said Vic, "I reckon we owe you one for puttin' us in touch with Pitkin. We was purely out of luck, where the herd was concerned."

"Hell, I was just helpin' myself," Kelly replied. "I ain't sure Pitkin would ever have hired an outfit, the way he was headed. Thanks to you gents, he has a herd, an outfit, and a place for me."

"Thank God on behalf of all of us," said Rusty. "Whatever else happens, we'll all eat regular, and that's almighty important."

When they reached town, Pitkin spoke to Gavin and Woody.

"I am advancing you two hundred dollars. Use part of it to purchase the chuck wagon and the remainder for necessary provisions until you can find and hire a cook."

"We have only three mules, includin' Nip Kelly's," Gavin said.

"Purchase the chuck wagon and find a suitable cook," said Pitkin. "Once you are satisfied with the cook, I will purchase the necessary teams to draw the chuck wagon. I will then arrange credit for all necessary provisions and supplies at a general store."

Pitkin turned away, dismissing them, but they were cheered by smiles from Nell and Naomi.

"He don't waste words, does he?" Gavin said.

"No," said Woody, "and he took us at our word. Now we got to find us a cook that's willing to keep us all fed and drive that chuck wagon from here to Santa Fe."

The eventual cost of the chuck wagon was eighty-five dollars, and they began their search for a cook in the various cafes and restaurants. After making the rounds of better restaurants, their search for a cook having been unsuccessful, they began visiting the hash houses and dives along the river.

"I'm beginnin' to wonder if it was such a good idea, you and me huntin' a cook that's willin' to work a cattle drive," Gavin McCord said. "If we find one down here, he's likely to be so scruffy and rough-around-the-edges, Pitkin won't have him."

"Maybe Pitkin needs to learn somethin' about the frontier," said Woodrow Miles. "The varmint that's all gussied-up like Sunday-go-to-meetin' belongs in town, not on the trail. We got to have an hombre that can boil coffee and make flapjacks in rain or snow, without bellyachin'. A waddy that can use Winchester or Colt, and when there's a stampede, he can grab a horse and ride like hell wouldn't have it."

"Hell, you don't have to convince me," Gavin said. "Let's try that place across the street, the Cattleman's Bar and Grill."

It being mid-morning, most eating places were virtually empty, but when Gavin and Woody reached the door of the Cattleman's Bar and Grill, they could hear angry voices, one of which relied almost entirely on border Spanish.

"Damn it, Gonzales, you call this coffee?"

"Sí," Gonzales bawled. "Tejano coffee."

The shouting ceased as Gavin and Woody entered the cafe.

"Sorry, gents," said the man who was obviously the owner, "but I'm without a cook. Gonzales is just leaving."

Gonzales stomped out, his teeth clenched beneath his bushy moustache. Woody and Gavin followed, matching the stride of the irate Mexican.

"What's the trouble, Gonzales?" Woody asked.

Gonzales stopped dead in his tracks. Snatching off his old hat, he swatted it against his thigh. Turning to face them, he spoke.

"T'ree month I cook for Tejano trail drive. Por Dios, now I am tell I no can cook, no can make the coffee."

"Gonzales," Woody said, "if you've been a trail cook before, how would you like to be a trail cook again?"

"I like," said Gonzales. "Tejano coffee, Tejano grub."

"Our outfit's takin' a herd of Texas cows to Santa Fe," Gavin said. "Mr. Pitkin, our boss, needs a cook for the trail who will become part of the outfit, staying to work for the ranch in New Mexico. Will you go with us to Mr. Pitkin's hotel to talk to him?"

"Sí," said Gonzales. "He like my coffee, my grub, I go."

Not believing their good fortune, Gavin and Woody guided Gonzales to the hotel and knocked on Pitkin's door.

"Pit," Woody said, when the Englishman opened the door, "we've found a man who has been a trail cook. This is Gonzales. Gonzales, this is Mr. Pitkin."

Gonzales grinned, removed his old hat, and bowed.

"His attitude is acceptable," said Pitkin, "but what's the rest of his name?"

"Gonzales is all we know," Woody replied.

"Gonzales who?" Pitkin persisted.

"Madre mia," said the Mexican. "You call Gonzales, I come. That not be enough?"

"Yes," Woody said, "I think that will be enough. Don't you, Mr. Pitkin?"

"Yes," said Pitkin wisely. "You will be in charge of the chuck wagon."

"Sí," Gonzales replied. "Caballos, mulos."

"Gonzales!" Gavin shouted.

He sent his Colt spinning and the Mexican deftly caught it, cocked it, and then eased the hammer down. He expertly border-shifted the weapon, took its muzzle in his left hand, and presented it butt-first to Gavin.

"You'll do, Gonzales," said Gavin.

The Mexican said nothing, and even Pitkin understood the significance of what he had witnessed. When he spoke, it was to the Mexican.

"Gonzales, I will direct a written message to a general store, authorizing them to load a chuck wagon with all the food and supplies you believe necessary to feed the outfit on the trail and after we establish a ranch in New Mexico. Woody, we do have a chuck wagon I presume?"

"We do," said Woody, "but we're lacking teams and harness."

"Then go to the livery — wherever you must purchase teams and harness — get them, and have them charged to me," Pitkin said. "When the chuck wagon has been loaded, take it to your cow camp. My daughters and I will be there sometime tomorrow, prepared to take the trail."

"Pit," Woody said, "if it meets with your approval, Gavin and me will go to the store with Gonzales. There's some things other than grub we're goin' to need on the trail. You'll need bedrolls for your daughters and yourself, and all of you should be armed. If not with Winchesters, at least with Colts."

"Very well," said Pitkin. "You men are much more aware of the needs of an outfit on the trail than I, and I am relying on your judgment."

Woody and Gavin found that Gonzales was a good judge of livestock, for the Mexican quickly chose four young mules of good temperament. They harnessed the mules and led the animals to the wagon yard, where the chuck wagon waited.

"I still have a hundred and fifteen dollars Pitkin advanced us for the chuck wagon and grub," Woody said. "Since we'll be loadin' the chuck wagon today and there'll be plenty of grub, I aim to use some of this money to buy some extra canvas."

"The chuck wagon comes with canvas," said Gavin. "Why do we need more?"

"I aim to buy two twenty-foot squares, with the edges hemmed and brass eyelets at the corners," Woody said. "At least we'll have a shelter where we can squat and eat, without bein' snowed, sleeted, and rained on."

"Might be handy after we reach Santa Fe," said Gavin. "Pitkin's just startin' with open range, and we don't know when there'll be a bunk house."

"Sí," Gon$$$$$ales said. "Thong one side of shelter to wagon bows, other side to trees, or to poles we bury in ground."

"Bueno," said Woody. "You know what I'm talkin' about."

"Sí," Gonzales said. "If chuck wagon have dry firewood, need possum belly."

"We can use a cowhide for that," said Gavin. "We saved the last one, brought it on one of the pack mules."

When they reached the general store, Gonzales expertly backed the wagon up to the ramp for the loading of supplies.

"Gonzales, turn in Pitkin's letter," Woody said, "and begin loadin' what you know for sure we'll be needin' on the trail. We'll have to find bedrolls and weapons for Pitkin and his daughters."

While the general store had Winchesters and ammunition, there were no revolvers.

"Let's get three Winchesters and ammunition," said Gavin, "and if they want Colts, then Pitkin can go to a gunsmith's. Maybe I ain't bein' fair to these English folks, but I can't see any of them bein' worth a damn in a fight."

"Frankly," Woody said, "neither can I, but they can change. They'll have to, if they aim to survive on the frontier."

Gavin laughed. "It may shock hell out of Pitkin, but I reckon we'll have to help Nell and Naomi learn cow. Startin' out with thirty-five hundred head, after a couple of years of natural increase, a six-man outfit won't be near enough."

After gathering the extra Winchesters, ammunition, and bedrolls, Gavin and Woody returned to the loading dock. Gonzales had three store clerks bringing supplies to the wagon, while the Mexican positioned things so that no available space was wasted. Outside the wagon — on either side of the wagon box — was a water keg, and from each keg to the rear end of the wagon, heavy iron hooks had been bolted to the vehicle's frame.

"What are these for?" Gavin wondered.

"You see," said Gonzales.

The Mexican had secured a dozen yard-long, three-inch-wide leather straps with brass rings at each end. The men loading the wagon brought out four heavy gunnysacks.

"Grain for mulos," Gonzales said.

Quickly, Gonzales looped the brass rings on the ends of three of the leather straps over three of the iron hooks on the outside of the wagon box. Two of the men from the store held a heavy sack of grain in position, while Gonzales looped the heavy leather straps over the sack and attached the rings on the loose ends of the straps to three of the hooks along the outside of the wagon box. A second sack of grain was secured in the same manner on the same side of the wagon box, and the remaining two sacks were put into position on the opposite side of the wagon.

"Grub for mulos no get in way of grub for outfit," Gonzales explained.

Gavin and Woody looked at one another and grinned. The Mexican was proving himself resourceful when it came to loading the wagon. Now if he could only cook ...

"Tarnation," said Gavin, "look who's comin' down the boardwalk."

Nell and Naomi Pitkin seemed oblivious to the four men following them. It was Naomi who spoke.

"Father is allowing us to come to the store and choose proper clothing for the drive to Santa Fe."

"Well, he shouldn't have allowed you to come alone," said Woody. "Who are those hombres followin' you?"

"I don't know," Naomi said, looking back. "I never saw them before."

"Well, now," said one of the men, "we ain't introduced ourselves proper."

The four looked as though they had recently departed a saloon, for their faces were flushed. Their hair and beards were unkempt and their clothing looked as in need of washing as their faces, necks, arms, and hands. They became angry when it appeared the two women they were following had come to meet Gavin and Woody. One of the four — big, brawny, weighing maybe three hundred — stepped off the boardwalk into the dusty street, and it was he who spoke.

"I'm Burke Chandler, an' we seen these ladies first. Why don't you an' sonny boy run along, so's we don't hafta hurt you?"

Gavin was nearest. Reacting in a manner that took the big man totally by surprise, he brought his right all the way from his knees. While Chandler didn't fall, he rocked back on his heels and Gavin had to hit him a second time. When he finally went down in a cloud of dust, his three companions charged Gavin. All of them were big men, accustomed to saloon brawling, and when Woody went to Gavin's rescue, the two of them went down under the combined weight of the three men.

"Leave them alone, you brutes," Naomi shouted.

She seized the arm of one of the brawling trio, while Nell went after another. The two of them only succeeded in getting sucked into the fight, and it gradually went from bad to worse. Nell screamed when her dress was ripped from collar-to-waist, and Naomi was faring no better.

"Somebody get the sheriff!" one of the storekeepers shouted.

But the brawl didn't last that long. Gonzales grabbed a Winchester from beneath the wagon seat and slammed the butt of it into the head of one of the four troublesome men. Awaiting an opportunity, he slugged another of the four in the same manner. Naomi and Nell managed to drag themselves out of the fight, while Gavin and Woody each took one of their remaining adversaries. Finally the four intruders were sprawled on the ground, and the victors leaned against the chuck wagon, breathing hard. Gavin and Woody were almost in rags. Naomi and Nell, in their undergarments, sought what was left of their ripped and mutilated dresses. A crowd had begun to gather.

"I reckon you ladies had better go on in the store and get yourselves the duds you had come after," Woody said. "You'll never be in more need of 'em."

"I'm more naked than I want to be, out in public," said Gavin. "I reckon we'd better all go in there and get ourselves covered. Pit will just have to take it from our wages."

"Oh, God," Naomi moaned, "don't tell Father. He'll be furious."

"I don't care," said Nell. "It was a perfectly glorious fight."

"All of you had better get inside," said one of the men from the store. "Here comes the sheriff."

Quickly, Naomi and Nell entered the store, followed by Gavin and Woody. The sheriff arrived in time to witness the awakening of the four men who had been the cause of the brawl. Chandler sat up, blood dripping from his nose and running down his chin. His three companions slowly got to their hands and knees.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Santa Fe Trail by Ralph Compton. Copyright © 1997 Ralph Compton. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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