Damn it was dry. . . . if this drought didn’t break soon, they’d all be dead. The men as well as the horses. They had all held out a prayer that soon enough they would come across a stream or a creek ...and they had come across many. . . .all bone dry. Josh called out to the men that there was a grove of shade trees just up ahead. No water, but some shade was sounding pretty good to all of them. Hopefully there was enough water left in one of the barrels on the wagon that they could all wet their whistles.

“ I say to hell with crossing Texas, shouted Bobby. He was the youngest of the group and was doted over by most of the men. He was a runaway orphan that they had picked up several years ago. He had hidden himself in one of the wagons when they stopped for supplies and they were miles out when he was discovered. He was what Grit called a “little hellion”. “I wished sometimes I’d just stayed a orphan, it beats the hell outta this!” “Watch your mouth son, you aught not talk like that, it ain’t proper”, scolded Grit. “Proper? Ain’t none of this proper! Ain’t nary one o’ us washed out backsides in over a week and you preachin’ bout’ bein’ proper?” That got a chuckle out the men and they were relieved for the laugh. Truth be told it had been a hard ride so far! “That’s beside the point boy, just cause your butts filthy doesn’t mean your mouth has to be!” Grit was smiling at the boy. He knew that his mouth was their fault. They all cussed. The kid had learned it all from them. He turned and looked at Peg. . . one of the crew, and the foulest mouth of the bunch. Peg was grinning, he knew exactly what Grit was thinking. “Now don’t you go a blamin’ me the for the mouth on that boy Grit... he got a mind of his own, besides, the boys gotta be about 14 by now I reckon... and anyway it might come in handy for him if the injuns’ get him!” Peg was teasing, but the very thought of Indians getting any of them made them all take a cautious look around.

They all unsaddled and settled under the shade, grateful for the break from the hot afternoon sun.
“I say we all make a pact gentlemen, “ said Davis. He was the only one among the bunch of them that had been privy to any education. He had books smarts, but as Grit like to say, he was dumber than a barrel of nails. “I say we make an agreement that we all stop the cussing. It adds nothing to the conversation and it makes you all look ill bred anyway. What do you all think of that.” Luke spoke first, he loved a chance to knock Davis down a notch a two. “ What I think is, you think too much. Don’t none o’ us get in your crawl about your fancy words and your girly way o’ talkin’ so how bout’ you let us alone about the way we talk. If’n we toss in a word here n’ there that offends you, then by all means, turn that nag o’ your’n around and head off in a different direction! I doubt any o’ us would be a missin’ ya!”
“ I tell ya what I think, said Peg, I think if you all would shut your mouths I might be able to catch me a little shut eye. If’n ya’ll was smart you’d be doin’ the same! This has gotta be the biggest bunch o’ misfit cowboys I ever seen in all my days.” Peg had finished his speech by rolling over and breaking wind, bringing a grumble from the men that had the misfortune of being down wind. Misfits indeed!

It was nice there in the shade, and they all drifted off to sleep fairly quickly. They could ride late afternoon and evening after the sun went down. . . they were in no hurry anyway. Joe had ridden off several months ago. None of them knew where he went, and none of them cared. It was Joes way to do that so they didn’t pay any mind to his absence. He had ridden back in a couple of weeks ago and told them all to get their things together that they were moving. He had been off gambling in the west and won quite a sum of money and had bought them a nice ranch that he had come across that was for sale. He was most excited about his good fortune. The ranch he told them had a nice house and lots of land and grass, creeks and lakes, even the cattle were part of the deal. The men all shared in the excitement too, they’d be glad to rid of the rickety shack and the barren land... they just hadn’t thought about the journey. . . the ride through the rough lands. . . the heat, lack of water and civilization. . .and of course bandits and Indians.

Peg rolled over onto his side and momentarily shattered the silence with a thunderous explosion from his nether region, infuriating some of the men, who again had the misfortune of laying down wind. " I swear Peg, if you sling one more air biscuit out of them rotten guts o' yorn I'm gonna come over there and use the toe of my boot as a plug! Your nasty!" Peg laughed loudly, he wasn't the least bit ashamed of his bodily functions, as a matter of fact, he took pride in them! It was always his goal to be louder and nastier than he was the time before. Secretly, Bobby was laughing too! He was smart enough to know never ever to stay downwind of Peg!

Little did they know that just up ahead, hidden down in a buffalo roll, lay two indians. Watching and listening.They looked at each other momentarily and grinned at the display of grossness that had come from the fat man. Maybe these men would be friendly. Maybe they were not like others that they had encountered in the past and maybe...they had water!

Two Dogs Running and Bearclaw watched as the white men, one by one,
drifted off to sleep again in the cool shade. As soon as they were positive
that no one at the campsite would present a problem, they were up and
running directly into the middle of the circle, guns at the ready. Catching
the unsuspecting cowboys off guard, they had themselves a parcel of
prisoners in minutes! They took all of the guns and tied up every one of
them . . . then looked for water. There was none to be had !

The men sat dumbfounded. Where had they come from? This land was flat and wide open. Peg was the first to speak. "What the hell you boys think you are doing? Ain't no call in all this nonsense! We wasn't hurtin' nothing. Just layin' here in the cool for a spell. I take it you ya'lls looking for water. . . if ya'll don't know where any is then we are all screwed!" The two indians looked at each other, neither understanding a word that the fat man had just spoken. Davis spoke several languages and tried a couple before the indians responded. " They are comanche and yes they seek water, or Paa as they call it. I have informed them that we have none and wish them no harm but that they need to untie us and perhaps someone has some in a canteen that wouldn't mind sharing." Grit was the first that they untied and he hurriedly joined in freeing the rest of his men. He was angry! Not just at the indians, but at himself for being so foolish as to fall asleep in these parts. It was lucky for them that these were young men. . . .young and thirsty.

[edit on 11-8-2009 by Greenize]

[edit on 11-8-2009 by Greenize]

Grit held the barrel of his pistol tightly, thankful to have his old friend back
in his hands. Two Dogs Running made his way around the circle, returning
the rest of the guns to each and every one of the embarrassed cowboys.
If looks could kill, both Indians would probably have died right there and
then.
Davis asked them more questions in comanche, mostly concerning what
they were doing and where they were aheading. This time Bearclaw did
the talking. He related to Davis that he and Two Dogs Running had been
about to search for water under the shade of these trees when the cow-
boys had come riding in, forcing them to high-tail it down into the buffalo
roll and wait.
"There ain't no damn water hereabouts", hollered Bobby angrily. "They be
a-lying Davis, they be a-lying !"
Davis waved Bobby off, asking the Indians again if they thought water was
nearabouts. Bearclaw nodded and pointed to the last tree near the rocks.
Two Dogs walked over between the tree and an over-hanging rock and
began to stomp his feet, like a bull fixing to charge. He got down on his
knees and began to toss dirt and sand out of a hole that formed beneath
him. Minutes went by, the cowboys all watching, as Two Dogs continued to
toss sand. Then suddenly he let out a warhoop as the sand became darker
and moist. The hole began to fill with muddy water, but it was water none-
the-less. Even the cowboys cheered now as more and more water seeped
into the hole dug by Two Dogs. Everyone seemed happy !

And that's how two Indians came to join this misfit band of cowboys. Over
a cook fire for beans and coffee and jerky, they were invited to travel
along with the cowboys and act as guides and scouts. In return, they
would receive food and protection, because in this tough country, there
was strength in numbers. And wouldn't you know it, the beans began to
take effect just as the fire was dying. Peg had to let one go, . . . a loud
one . . and then there was silence . . the cowboys staring at the Indians . .
looking for some kind of reaction. The two Indians looked at each other . .
and then Bearclaw let one go . . . louder and longer than Peg's. Two Dogs
Running jumped up, pointed to Bearclaw, and hollered some comanche
words over and over again.
Davis began to laugh hysterically, tears rolling down his cheeks. Bobby
asked Davis what the hell Two Dogs was hollering about. Davis tried to
get it out, "He said Big Wind Winner . . .Big Wind Winner" ! ! !

It seemed to be contagious as several of the other men decided to join in the disgusting amusement, everyone that is except Davis and Grit. Grit wasn’t cultured by any means, but the thought of letting one fly in front of others was a shade embarrassing to him. Once they had all settled down, Grit asked Davis to ask the two straggler indians what had happened to the rest of their tribe. They explained that they had been part of a hunting party, they encountered a group of Kiowa warriors . . . there was a fight . . . they had run away and hid. They had dishonored the tribe and were too ashamed to go back. They didn’t even know what happened after they ran, they relayed to Davis. Grit noticed the sorrowful looks on the young mens faces, so did Peg and all of a sudden he wished the farting contest had continued, he didn’t like to see anyone sad. Davis asked the two indians how old they were. They were 15 and 16. “Damn the luck Bobby, that means you still the babe in this outfit!” “Shut the hell up Cole! Your still the ugliest and dumbest of the lot and that is sayin’ a plenty, ain’t it boys?” cried Bobby in protest. Cole was only 22 and still wet behind the ears, but he still liked to pick on Bobby. Josh spoke up and reminded Grit that they’d best be cleaning up, filling what they could with water and getting back on the trail. Grit agreed and gave the orders. Soon, they would be back in their saddles, unsure of what lie ahead and really in no hurry to find out.

Sun River Valley was a beautiful place to settle down, if one was so
inclined. Named "Natoe-osucti", or "good medicine", the Sun River ran for
miles through Cascade County before joining up with the Yellowstone. The
water was cold, and clean, and sweet.
About eighteen miles from Great Falls, Sun River was prime ranch land for
anyone interested in raising cattle. And someone had been interested,
because a large ranch sat right on a fork in the river, away from town, yet
appearing to be a town unto itself. A good man had lost the deed to this
ranch while gambling in the gold fields of California. Now, another man was
claiming ownership, and was bringing in his own men to help run it.

The misfits were on their way.

After a couple of hours, the man they called "The Rev", began to quote scripture aloud. "Blessed are the meek for... " "Don't start that sh** Rev! Ain't nary one o' us wants to hear that right now." protested Joe. " Your poor country a** can't even read a Bible. You just spittin up what you done heard somebody else say anyway." Peg spoke up and told Joe to leave Rev alone. He insisted Rev continue, said the good book made him feel peaceful inside! " Them insides or yorn don't know nuttin' bout peace Peg. . . I magine' the Good Lord mighta' mentioned you when he talked about the mighty thunder and blowing winds," chided Josh. He was about to continue with the verbal ribbing when Grit stopped and threw his hand up to stop them. "What is it Grit?", asked Bobby. He didn't answer. "Hey, said Davis," where did the indian boys go." " Hiding I'd imagine", whispered Grit, " I think we are about to encounter the rest of their tribe"!!!
"Thems comanche all right," said Davis. " Do you think we should be worried?" "Well we'll know soon enough won't we", answered Grit. . . .

The Double-Bar Z, ( \\Z ), sat right on the Sun River and covered about
sixty thousand acres of land, . . all kinds of land. Some hills, mountains,
valleys, plains, and even some desert. A finer location would be hard to
find. The ranch consisted of one large ranchhouse, two barns, three
corrals, two bunkhouses, a blacksmith, a sawmill, and two smaller storage
sheds. A mixed herd of cattle, Herefords and Longhorns, five thousand
strong not counting this year's new calves, grazed the land in relative
tranquility. There were two lakes up near the northern border, one small
pond to the east, and numerous creeks that flowed through the property.

The Double-Bar Z had been bought by Joe . .fair and square, after its
original owner had failed miserably at gambling. It was Joe's dream now !
He'd always wanted to settle down and try his hand at ranching and when
the opportunity presented itself, he had been ready. Now . .
. . .now if he could just hold onto it . . . he willed godspeed to the misfits !

Joe was startled back to reality when he realized that he group had stopped and were all staring ahead intently, Davis the only one still riding forward... towards a band of indians. He had been daydreaming about the ranch, their new home, and missed the goings on around him.

They all sat quietly, listening to the conversation that Davis was having with the comanches. They all watched helplessly as Davis fell from his horse to the ground, a lance in his chest... before any of them could react, the two boys that had been riding with them, Bearclaw and Two dogs, came running from somewhere behind them, screaming in comanche at their fellow tribesmen. Two of the adult indians approached the boys, each embracing the other... the boys crying. Nobody moved... they knew they were sorely out numbered and they were none to ready for a fight....

Two Dogs Running rushed over to Davis, who was now cursing up a storm
as he rocked back and forth on the ground, both hands holding the spear
up at arm's length. Grit, Peg, and the Rev had all slapped leather and they
sat with guns drawn watching every movement the Comanches made. It
was a momentary stand-off, neither side particularly anxious to provoke
the other. To the rear and dismounted, Cole, Bobby, Josh, and Joe stood
with their rifles at the ready, concerned looks on all of their faces.

And then, the tall Indian that had hugged Bearclaw climbed down from his
horse and joined Two Dogs at Davis's side. In one swift motion he leaned
over and pulled the lance from Davis's chest, throwing it over to the side,
in the sand. He said something to Two Dogs, then climbed back up onto
his horse, turned sharply and rode away, as if disgusted. Two Dogs
explained to Davis that he would be okay, that the spear had been poorly
thrown, had missed anything vital, and was now bringing shame to the
young warrior that had thrown it. Davis wasn't exactly a'believing every-
thing he was hearing, but he did calm down a mite. Still, it hurt like hell !

The other Indians took turns spitting at the two Indian boys, and then, one
by one, they rode off angrily, looking over their shoulders every now and
then and shaking their spears at the sky. And just like that it was over . . .
except for the carrying-ons of Davis, who never did care much for seeing
his own blood.

The Double Bar Z still had a crew running the ranch. In fact, most of them
had been around for quite some time, having worked with the previous
owner to make it what it was today, the pride of Montana. They all worried
about the new owner, and whether they'd be kept on or not. They carried
themselves confidently, but not with arrogance. They were fifty strong,
used to hard work, and in love with the whole Sun River Valley. But
especially, the Double Bar Z.
Sissy Johnson was one of the crew, although nary a one would dispute the
fact that she was more of a big sister and confidant than she was head
cook and provisions clerk. She was tall for a woman, about 5'8", with long
blonde hair and a lean body, and a face that wasn't unpleasant to look at,
especially when she smiled. Cowboys didn't mess with her, just wasn't the
right thing to do. Sissy ran the ranchhouse and supervised all of the
cooking, and rumor had it that no outfit ate better than the Double Bar Z.

But lately even Sissy felt a little uncomfortable about the change in
ownership. Rustling was on the increase up on the northern border and
they all wondered if the new owner would stand up against a new gang of
hooligans that roamed the hills up there now. And Sissy had another
bother also. She had unofficially been Jake's fiancee. And now Jake was
gone, killed in a saloon fight out in California. He had accompanied the
owner, and after learning of his misfortune had stopped in for a drink at a
local bar before heading back to Montana. A stray bullet from an
altercation, . . and he was gone. Jake had been the foreman of the "Z",
and a damn good one. Sissy wondered now how her role would change.