IN QUARANTINE
We reached Miles City shortly after midnight. It was the recognized
cattle centre of Montana at that time, but devoid of the high-lights
which were a feature of the trail towns. The village boasted the usual
number of saloons and dance-houses, and likewise an ordinance
compelling such resorts to close on the stroke of twelve. Lovell had
been there before, and led the way to a well-known hostelry. The house
was crowded, and the best the night clerk could do was to give us a
room with two beds. This was perfectly satisfactory, as it was a large
apartment and fronted out on an open gallery. Old man Don suggested we
take the mattresses outside, but as this was my first chance to sleep
in a bed since leaving the ranch in March, I wanted all the comforts
that were due me. Sponsilier likewise favored the idea of sleeping
inside, and our employer yielded, taking the single bed on retiring.
The night was warm, and after thrashing around for nearly an hour,
supposing that Dave and I were asleep, old man Don arose and quietly
dragged his mattress outside. Our bed was soft and downy, but in spite
of the lateness of the hour and having been in our saddles at dawn, we
tossed about, unable to sleep. After agreeing that it was the mattress,
we took the covering and pillows and lay down on the floor, falling
into a deep slumber almost instantly. “Well, wouldn’t that jar your
eccentric,” said Dave to me the next morning, speaking of our inability
to sleep in a bed. “I slept in one in Ogalalla, and I wasn’t over-full
either.”
Lovell remained with us all the next day. He was well known in Miles
City, having in other years sold cattle to resident cowmen. The day was
spent in hunting up former acquaintances, getting the lay of the land,
and feeling the public pulse on the matter of quarantine on Southern
cattle. The outlook was to our liking, as heavy losses had been
sustained from fever the year before, and steps had already been taken
to isolate all through animals until frost fell. Report was abroad that
there were already within the jurisdiction of Montana over one hundred
and fifty thousand through Texas cattle, with a possibility of one
third that number more being added before the close of the season. That
territory had established a quarantine camp on the Wyoming line,
forcing all Texas stock to follow down the eastern side of the Powder
River. Fully one hundred miles on the north, a dead-line was drawn from
Powderville on that watercourse eastward to a spur of the Powder River
Mountains, thus setting aside a quarantine ground ample to accommodate
half a million cattle. Local range-riders kept all the native and
wintered Texas cattle to the westward of the river and away from the
through ones, which was easily done by riding lines, the Southern herds
being held under constant control and hence never straying. The first
Texas herds to arrive naturally traveled north to the dead-line, and,
choosing a range, went into camp until frost relieved them. It was an
unwritten law that a herd was entitled to as much grazing land as it
needed, and there was a report about Miles City that the quarantine
ground was congested with cattle halfway from Powderville to the
Wyoming line.
The outlook was encouraging. Quarantine was working a hardship to herds
along the old Powder River route, yet their enforced isolation was like
a tempered wind to our cause and cattle, the latter then leisurely
grazing across Dakota from the Little Missouri to the mouth of the
Yellowstone. Fortune favored us in many respects. About Miles City
there was no concealment of our mission, resulting in an old
acquaintance of Lovell’s loaning us horses, while old man Don had no
trouble in getting drafts cashed to the amount of two thousand dollars.
What he expected to do with this amount of money was a mystery to Dave
and myself, a mystery which instantly cleared when we were in the
privacy of our room at the hotel.
“Here, boys,” said old man Don, throwing the roll of money on the bed,
“divide this wad between you. There might be such a thing as using a
little here and there to sweeten matters up, and making yourselves
rattling good fellows wherever you go. Now in the first place, I want
you both to understand that this money is clear velvet, and don’t
hesitate to spend it freely. Eat and drink all you can, and gamble a
little of it if that is necessary. You two will saddle up in the
morning and ride to Powderville, while I will lie around here a few
days and try the market for cattle next year, and then go on to Big
Horn on my way to the Crow Agency. Feel your way carefully; locate the
herds of Field, Radcliff & Co., and throw everything in their way to
retard progress. It is impossible to foretell what may happen, and for
that reason only general orders can be given. And remember, I don’t
want to see that money again if there is any chance to use it.”
Powderville was a long day’s ride from Miles City. By making an early
start and resting a few hours at noon, we reached that straggling
outpost shortly after nightfall. There was a road-house for the
wayfaring man and a corral for his beast, a general store, opposition
saloons, and the regulation blacksmith shop, constituting the business
interests of Powderville. As arriving guests, a rough but cordial
welcome was extended us by the keeper of the hostelry, and we mingled
with the other travelers, but never once mentioning our business. I was
uneasy over the money in our possession; not that I feared robbery, but
my mind constantly reverted to it, and it was with difficulty that I
refrained from continually feeling to see that it was safe. Sponsilier
had concealed his in his boot, and as we rode along, contended that he
could feel the roll chafing his ankle. I had tied two handkerchiefs
together, and rolling my share in one of them, belted the amount
between my overshirt and undershirt. The belt was not noticeable, but
in making the ride that day, my hand involuntarily went to my side
where the money lay, the action never escaping the notice of
Sponsilier, who constantly twitted me over my nervousness. And although
we were tired as dogs after our long ride, I awoke many times that
night and felt to see if my money was safe; my partner slept like a
log.
Several cowmen, ranching on the lower Powder River, had headquarters at
this outpost. The next morning Sponsilier and I made their
acquaintance, and during the course of the day got a clear outline of
the situation. On the west the river was the recognized dead-line to
the Wyoming boundary, while two camps of five men each patroled the
dividing line on the north, drifting back the native stock and holding
the through herds in quarantine. The nearest camp was some distance
east of Powderville, and saddling up towards evening we rode out and
spent the night at the first quarantine station. A wagon and two tents,
a relay of saddle horses, and an arsenal of long-range firearms
composed the outfit. Three of the five men on duty were Texans. Making
ourselves perfectly at home, we had no trouble in locating the herds in
question, they having already sounded the tocsin to clear the way,
claiming government beef recognized no local quarantine. The herds were
not over thirty miles to the south, and expectation ran high as to
results when an attempt should be made to cross the deadline. Trouble
had already occurred, where outfits respecting the quarantine were
trespassed upon by three herds, making claim of being under government
protection and entitled to the rights of eminent domain. Fortunately
several of the herds on the immediate line had been bought at Ogalalla
and were in possession of ranch outfits who owned ranges farther north,
and were anxious to see quarantine enforced. These local cowmen would
support the established authority, and trouble was expected. Sponsilier
and I widened the breach by denouncing these intruders as the hirelings
of a set of ringsters, who had no regard for the rights of any one, and
volunteered our services in enforcing quarantine against them the same
as others.
Our services were gratefully accepted. The next morning we were
furnished fresh horses, and one of us was requested, as we were
strangers, to ride down the country and reconnoitre the advance of the
defiant drovers. As I was fearful that Field or Radcliff might be
accompanying the herds, and recognize me, Sponsilier went instead,
returning late that evening.
“Well, fellows,” said Dave, as he dismounted at the quarantine camp,
“I’ve seen the herds, and they propose to cross this dead-line of yours
as easily as water goes through a gourd funnel. They’ll be here by noon
to-morrow, and they’ve got the big conversation right on tap to show
that the government couldn’t feed its army if it wasn’t for a few big
cowmen like them. There’s a strange corporal over the three herds and
they’re working on five horses to the man. But the major-domo’s the
whole works; he’s a windy cuss, and intimates that he has a card or two
up his sleeve that will put these quarantine guards to sleep when he
springs them. He’s a new man to me; at least he wasn’t with the gang at
Ogalalla.”
During the absence of my partner, I had ridden the dead-line on the
north. A strip of country five miles wide was clear of cattle above the
boundary, while below were massed four herds, claiming the range from
the mountains to the Powder River. The leader of the quarantine guards,
Fred Ullmer, had accompanied me on the ride, and on our return we
visited three of the outfits, urging them to hold all their reserve
forces subject to call, in case an attempt was made to force the
dead-line. At each camp I took every possible chance to sow the seeds
of dissension and hatred against the high-handed methods of The Western
Supply Company. Defining our situation clearly, I asked each foreman,
in case these herds defied local authority, who would indemnify the
owners for the loss among native cattle by fever between Powderville
and the mouth of the Yellowstone. Would the drovers? Would the
government? Leaving these and similar thoughts for their consideration,
Ullmer and I had arrived at the first quarantine station shortly before
the return of my partner.
Upon the report of Sponsilier, Ullmer was appointed captain, and lost
no time in taking action. After dark, a scout was sent to Camp No. 2, a
meeting-place was appointed on Wolf Creek below, and orders were given
to bring along every possible man from the local outfits and to meet at
the rendezvous within an hour after sun-up the next morning. Ullmer
changed horses and left for Powderville, assuring us that he would
rally every man interested in quarantine, and have his posse below, on
the creek by sunrise. The remainder of us at headquarters were under
orders to bring all the arms and ammunition, and join the quarantine
forces at the meeting-place some five miles from our camp. We were also
to touch at and command the presence of one of the four outfits while
en route. I liked the determined action of Captain Ullmer, who I
learned had emigrated with his parents to Montana when a boy, and had
grown into manhood on the frontier. Sponsilier was likewise pleased
with the quarantine leader, and we lay awake far into the night,
reviewing the situation and trying to anticipate any possible
contingency that might thwart our plans. But to our best reasoning the
horizon was clear, and if Field, Radcliff & Co.’s cattle reached Fort
Buford on the day of delivery, well, it would be a miracle.
Fresh horses were secured at dawn, and breakfast would be secured en
route with the cow outfit. There were a dozen large-calibre rifles in
scabbards, and burdening ourselves with two heavy guns to the man and
an abundance of ammunition, we abandoned Quarantine Station No. 1 for
the time being. The camp which we were to touch at was the one nearest
the river and north of Wolf Creek, and we galloped up to it before the
sun had even risen. Since everything was coming our way, Sponsilier and
I observed a strict neutrality, but a tow-headed Texan rallied the
outfit, saying:
“Make haste, fellows, and saddle up your horses. Those three herds
which raised such a rumpus up on Little Powder have sent down word that
they’re going to cross our dead-line to-day if they have to prize up
hell and put a chunk under it. We have decided to call their bluff
before they even reach the line, and make them show their hand for all
this big talk. Here’s half a dozen guns and cartridges galore, but
hustle yourselves. Fred went into Powderville last night and will meet
us above at the twin buttes this morning with every cowman in town. All
the other outfits have been sent for, and we’ll have enough men to make
our bluff stand up, never fear. From what I learn, these herds belong
to a lot of Yankee speculators, and they don’t give a tinker’s dam if
all the cattle in Montana die from fever. They’re no better than
anybody else, and if we allow them to go through, they’ll leave a trail
of dead natives that will stink us out of this valley. Make haste,
everybody.”
I could see at a glance that the young Texan had touched their pride.
The foreman detailed three men to look after the herd, and the balance
made hasty preparations to accompany the quarantine guards. A relief
was rushed away for the herders; and when the latter came in, they
reported having sighted the posse from Powderville, heading across
country for the twin buttes. Meanwhile a breakfast had been bolted by
the guards, Sponsilier, and myself, and swinging into our saddles, we
rounded a bluff bend of the creek and rode for the rendezvous, some
three miles distant. I noticed by the brands that nearly every horse in
that country had been born in Texas, and the short time in which we
covered the intervening miles proved that the change of climate had
added to their stability and bottom. Our first glimpse of the
meeting-point revealed the summit of the buttes fairly covered with
horsemen. From their numbers it was evident that ours was the last
contingent to arrive; but before we reached the twin mounds, the posse
rode down from the lookout and a courier met and turned us from our
course. The lead herd had been sighted in trail formation but a few
miles distant, heading north, and it was the intention to head them at
the earliest moment. The messenger inquired our numbers, and reported
those arrived at forty-five, making the posse when united a few over
sixty men.
A juncture of forces was effected within a mile of the lead herd. It
was a unique posse. Old frontiersmen, with patriarchal beards and
sawed-off shotguns, chewed their tobacco complacently as they rode
forward at a swinging gallop. Beardless youths, armed with the old
buffalo guns of their fathers, led the way as if an Indian invasion had
called them forth. Soldiers of fortune, with Southern accents, who were
assisting in the conquest of a new empire, intermingled with the
hurrying throng, and two men whose home was in Medina County, Texas,
looked on and approved. The very horses had caught the inspiration of
the moment, champing bits in their effort to forge to the front rank,
while the blood-stained slaver coated many breasts or driveled from our
boots. Before we met the herd a halt was called, and about a dozen men
were deployed off on each flank, while the main body awaited the
arrival of the cattle. The latter were checked by the point-men and
turned back when within a few hundred yards of the main posse. Several
horsemen from the herd rode forward, and one politely inquired the
meaning of this demonstration. The question was met by a counter one
from Captain Ullmer, who demanded to know the reason why these cattle
should trespass on the rights of others and ignore local quarantine.
The spokesman in behalf of the herd turned in his saddle and gave an
order to send some certain person forward. Sponsilier whispered to me
that this fellow was merely a segundo. “But wait till the ‘major-domo’
arrives,” he added. The appearance of the posse and the halting of the
herd summoned that personage from the rear to the front, and the next
moment he was seen galloping up the column of cattle. With a plausible
smile this high mogul, on his arrival, repeated the previous question,
and on a similar demand from the captain of the posse, he broke into a
jolly laugh from which he recovered with difficulty.
“Why, gentlemen,” said he, every word dripping with honeyed sweetness,
“this is entirely uncalled for. I assure you that it was purely an
oversight on my part that I did not send you word in advance that these
herds of mine are government cattle and not subject to local
quarantine. My associates are the largest army contractors in the
country, these cattle are due at Fort Buford on the 15th of this month,
and any interference on your part would be looked upon as an insult to
the government. In fact, the post commander at Fort Laramie insisted
that he be permitted to send a company of cavalry to escort us across
Wyoming, and assured us that a troop from Fort Keogh, if requested,
would meet our cattle on the Montana line. The army is jealous over its
supplies, but I declined all military protection, knowing that I had
but to show my credentials to pass unmolested anywhere. Now, if you
care to look over these papers, you will see that these cattle are en
route to Fort Buford, on an assignment of the original contract, issued
by the secretary of war to The Western Supply Company. Very sorry to
put you to all this trouble, but these herds must not be interfered
with. I trust that you gentlemen understand that the government is
supreme.”
As the papers mentioned were produced, Sponsilier kicked me on the
shin, gave me a quiet wink, and nodded towards the documents then being
tendered to Captain Ullmer. Groping at his idea, I rode forward, and as
the papers were being returned with a mere glance on the part of the
quarantine leader, I politely asked if I might see the assignment of
the original contract. But a quizzical smile met my request, and
shaking out the heavy parchment, he rapped it with the knuckles of his
disengaged hand, remarking as he returned it to his pocket, “Sorry, but
altogether too valuable to allow out of my possession.” Just what I
would have done with the beribboned document, except to hand it over to
Sponsilier, is beyond me, yet I was vaguely conscious that its
destruction was of importance to our side of the matter at issue. At
the same instant in which my request was declined, the big medicine man
turned to Captain Ullmer and suavely remarked, “You found everything as
represented, did you?”
“Why, I heard your statement, and I have also heard it disputed from
other sources. In fact I have nothing to do with you except to enforce
the quarantine now established by the cattlemen of eastern Montana. If
you have any papers showing that your herds were wintered north of
latitude 37, you can pass, as this quarantine is only enforced against
cattle from south of that degree. This territory lost half a million
dollars’ worth of native stock last fall from Texas fever, and this
season they propose to apply the ounce of preventive. You will have
ample time to reach your destination after frost falls, and your
detention by quarantine will be a good excuse for your delay. Now,
unless you can convince me that your herds are immune, I’ll show you a
good place to camp on the head of Wolf Creek. It will probably be a
matter of ten to fifteen days before the quarantine is lifted, and we
are enforcing it against citizens of Montana and Texas alike, and no
exception can be made in your case.”
“But, my dear sir, this is not a local or personal matter. Whatever you
do, don’t invite the frown of the government. Let me warn you not to
act in haste. Now, remember—”
“You made your cracks that you would cross this quarantine line,”
interrupted Ullmer, bristlingly, “and I want you to find out your
mistake. There is no occasion for further words, and you can either
order your outfit to turn your cattle east, or I’ll send men and do it
myself.”
The “major-domo” turned and galloped back to his men, a number of whom
had congregated near at hand. The next moment he returned and haughtily
threatened to surrender the cattle then and there unless he was allowed
to proceed. “Give him a receipt for his beeves, Fred,” quietly remarked
an old cowman, gently stroking his beard, “and I’ll take these boys
over here on the right and start the cattle. That will be the safest
way, unless the gentleman can indemnify us. I lost ten thousand
dollars’ worth of stock last fall, and as a citizen of Montana I have
objections to leaving a trail of fever from here to the mouth of the
Yellowstone. And tell him he can have a bond for his cattle,” called
back the old man as he rode out of hearing.
The lead herd was pointed to the east, and squads of men rode down and
met the other two, veering them off on an angle to the right. Meanwhile
the superintendent raved, pleaded, and threatened without avail, but
finally yielded and refused the receipt and dispossession of his
cattle. This was just what the quarantine captain wanted, and the dove
of peace began to shake its plumage. Within an hour all three of the
herds were moving out for the head of Wolf Creek, accompanied only by
the quarantine guards, the remainder of the posse returning to their
homes or their work. Having ample time on our hands, Sponsilier and I
expected to remain at Station No. 1 until after the 10th of September,
and accordingly made ourselves at home at that camp. To say that we
were elated over the situation puts it mildly, and that night the two
of us lost nearly a hundred dollars playing poker with the quarantine
guards. A strict vigilance was maintained over the herds in question,
but all reports were unanimous that they were contentedly occupying
their allotted range.
But at noon on the third day of the enforced isolation, a messenger
from Powderville arrived at the first station. A troop of cavalry from
Fort Keogh, accompanied by a pack-train, had crossed the Powder River
below the hamlet, their avowed mission being to afford an escort for
certain government beef, then under detention by the local authorities.
The report fell among us like a flash of lightning. Ample time had
elapsed for a messenger to ride to the Yellowstone, and, returning with
troops, pilot them to the camps of Field, Radcliff & Co. A consultation
was immediately held, but no definite line of action had been arrived
at when a horseman from one of the lower camps dashed up and informed
us that the three herds were already trailing out for the dead-line,
under an escort of cavalry. Saddling up, we rallied what few men were
available, determined to make a protest, at least, in the interest of
humanity to dumb brutes. We dispatched couriers to the nearest camps
and the outer quarantine station; but before a posse of twenty men
arrived, the lead herd was within a mile of the dead-line, and we rode
out and met them. Fully eighty troopers, half of which rode in column
formation in front, halted us as we approached. Terse and to the point
were the questions and answers exchanged between the military arm of
the government and the quarantine authorities of Montana. When the
question arose of indemnity to citizens, in case of death to native
cattle, a humane chord was touched in the young lieutenant in command,
resulting in his asking several questions, to which the “major-domo”
protested. Once satisfied of the justice of quarantine, the officer, in
defense of his action, said:
“Gentlemen, I am under instructions to give these herds, intended for
use at Fort Buford, a three days’ escort beyond this quarantine line. I
am very much obliged to you all for making so clear the necessity of
isolating herds of Texas cattle, and that little or no hardship may
attend my orders, you may have until noon to-morrow to drift all native
stock west of the Powder River. When these herds encamp for the night,
they will receive instructions not to move forward before twelve
to-morrow. I find the situation quite different from reports;
nevertheless orders are orders.”