The Leon reporter. (Leon, Iowa) 1887-1930, 1912-12-05
CHAPTER ~.
The Attack.

CHAPTER ~.
The Attack.
Slightly more than sixty miles. as
the route ran, stretched between old
Fort Dodge and the ford crossing the
Arkansas leading down to the Cimar-
ron; another sixty miles distant,
across a desert of alkai and sand, lay
Devere. The main Santa Fe trail,
broad and deeply rutted by the in
Vulnerable wheels of early spring
caravans, followed the general course
of the river, occasionallyxouching the
higher level plains, but mostly keep
ing close beneath the protection Of the
northern bluffs, or else skirting the
edge of the water. Night or day the
route was easily followed, and, in 9TH
er years, the traveller was seldom for
long out of sight of toiling wagons.
Now scarcely wheel turned in all
that lonely distance.
The west bound stage left the sta.
ton at Deer Creek at four o'clock in
the afternoon with no intimation of
danger ahead. Its occupants had eat
en- dinner in company with those of
the east-bound coach, eighteen miles
down the river It Canon Bluff, and the
incoming driver had reported an open
road, and no unusual trouble. No In
dian signs had been observed, not
even signal fires during the night, and
the conductor, who had come straight
from Santa Fe, reported that troops
from Fort Union had driven the only
known bunch of raiders back from
the neighborhood of the trail, and had
them already safely corralled in the
mountains. This report, seemingly au-
thentic and official, served to relax
the nerves, and the west-bound driver
sang to himself as he guided the four
horses forward, while the conductor,
a sawed-off gun planted between his
knees, nodded drowsily. Inside there
were but three passengers, jerking
back and forth, as the wheels struck
the deep ruts Of the trail, occasionally
exchanging a word or two, but usual
ly staring gloomily forth at the mo-
Moylan occupied the back seat, some
baggage wedged tightly between to
keep them more secure on the slip
perry cushion, while facing them, and
clinging to his support with both
hands, was a pock-marked Mexican,
with rather villainous face and ornate
dress, and excessively polite manners.
He had joined the little party at
Dodge, smiling happily at sight of
Miss Molly's face when she unveiled,
although his small knowledge of Eng
lish prevented any extended effort at
, conversation. Moylan, however, after
, careful scrutiny, engaged him shortly
In Spanish, and later explained to the
girl, in low tones, that the man was a
Santa Fe gambler known as Gonzales,
with q reputation to be limited at but
not openly discussed.
They were some six miles to the
west of Deer Creek, the horses still
moving with spirit, the drivers foot
on the brake, when the stage took a
sudden plunge down sloping bank
where the valley perceptibly narrowed.
To the left, beyond fiat expanse of
brown, sun-scorched grass, flowed
the widely-spreading waters of the Ar
kansas, barely covering the treacher-
+, GUS sandy bottom, and from the other
side came the more distant CLEAN of
alkali plains; to the right arose the
bluffs. here both steep and rugged.
completely shutting of the view, bar
rem of vegetation except for a few
scattered patches of grass. Suddenly
a man rode out of a rift in the bank,
directly in front, and held up his hand.
Surprised, startled. the driver in
simultaneously clamped on his brake
and brought his horses to 2 quick
stop; the conductor, nearly flung from
his, seat, yanked his gun forward.
! "'None of that now" called out the
man in saddle quickly, both hands up
lifted to show their emptiness. "This
is no hold-up. I've got news"
He spurred his pony forward slow
ly, the animal seemingly barely able
to move, and swung out Of the saddle
beside the front wheel, staggering 9
bit as though his limbs were cramped
as his feet felt the ground.
i I'm from Fort union," he said
{ Seventh Cavalry, sent through BY
way Of Cimarron Springs. There 4