Descendents of Floyd & Grace Lytle
Ken Thompson's Unofficial Medicine Lodge Website
A short story by
Norman E. Thompson
Dean Stanton pulled on the reins to lead his buggy up to the hitchin' post in
front of the bank. Just then the mayor of Medicine Lodge opened the door.
"Hey, mayor, did you see all them buffalo up north? There must be 3 or 4
hunnerd of 'em!"
The mayor turned around in his tracks. "Oh my Lord! They're not coming this
way are they?"
"They's grazin' up around Isabel. Look'd like they trampled a corn field,
what I saw of 'em. I was up to Isabel to talk to the blacksmith and stopped in
at the barbershop. The barbershop was full of people talkin' cause ever'body is
skeered they's gonna trample all their crops!"
Dean was interrupted when Willie the Cripple rode up on his paint. His name
was Willie Johnson but everybody called him Willie the Cripple because he got
shot in the foot and walked with a limp. "Hey Mr. Mayor, them buffalo has
trampled my wheat crop! Dam, I worked all spring waterin' and pullin' weeds and
now it's all fit for horse feed. Now how am I supposed to make some bread for
this winter?"
"I don't know, Willie. I can't help you. But I'll go talk to the sheriff
about that buffalo herd," the mayor said as he scratched his head and walked off
towards the saloon.
"Come on, Willie. Let's go see if they'll do anything!" Dean Stanton told
Willie as he flipped the reins to get his horse to go.
The mayor knew he'd have better luck looking in the saloon than looking in
the jailhouse for the sheriff. He pushed open the saloon doors and saw the
sheriff and a bunch of men setting around a poker table. "Are ya startin' up a
game a poker?" the mayor said. Behind him came Dean Stanton and Willie the
Cripple.
"Naw, we're just looking at this new gun," the sheriff said.
"It's a genuine Samuel Colt .45 caliber! I just bought her in Wichita
yesterday! Ain't she a beauty!" Nort Williams said with a big grin on his face.
The air was full of the smell of oil and blueing chemicals. "I ain't shot it yet so
I don't know how true the barrel is. I'll
have to do some target practice to figger out how she shoots. She's big enough
to stop a bear! "
"Well maybe with all 6 rounds!" Willie the Cripple said.
"I hate to break up all your fun but we got a problem," the mayor said.
"There's a big herd of buffalo up towards Isabel and they're tramplin' all the
crops."
"Must be 3 or 4 hunnerd of 'em," Dean Stanton nodded as he told the sheriff.
"Dam. Anybody got any of them buffalo rifles?" the sheriff said.
"You mean like what Buffalo Bill Cody shoots 'em with?" Nort Williams asked
as he put his new Colt .45 in his holster.
"We better put together a scouting party and go get a good look at 'em
first," the sheriff said. "You said they're around Isabel?"
"They's trampling my wheat crop right now!" Willie the Cripple said.
"Well, Willie, I'm sorry about that. Looks like you'll have to eat buffalo
meat instead of bread this winter," the sheriff said. All the men broke out
laughing and the sheriff gave Willie a pat on the back.
"Sheriff, I heard Buffalo Bill is up at Ft. Zarah. Can't you send him one of
those telegrams and maybe he'd come down here and shoot some of them buffalo for
us," the mayor said.
"Well, sure, if you think he's at Ft. Zarah and you can get him here in time
to help out before the buffalo do any damage. It's about a 3 day ride on a good
horse from Ft. Zarah," the sheriff nodded to the mayor.
The mayor pushed open the saloon doors and walked off towards the Western
Union office while the other men got on their horses. "Hey, daddy, can I go
along?" Nort's son yelled out.
"Yeah, but stay out of trouble," Nort said ask the men mounted up and rode
north.
Over at the Western Union office the mayor made out a message that said,
"Send help. Medicine Lodge needs Buffalo Bill" and told the telegraph operator
to send it to Ft. Zarah.
About an hour later the men came over a ridge and spotted the herd of
buffalo. "Let's just stop here. I don't want to spook them," the sheriff said.
"There must be hundreds of them." The men could see buffalo as far as the eye
could see.
"I can just make out my cabin from here and it looks like my wheat field is
full of buffalo," Willie the Cripple said.
"There's too many of 'em for us to handle," the sheriff explained to the men.
"We're gonna go back to town and get as many men as possible. We gotta have as
many rifles and cases of bullets as we can get. It's gonna take 2 or 3 rounds or
more to stop one buffalo. I hope they'll just stay here grazin' while we get
everything together. Then we'll come back tomorrow with some men and rifles. I
kinda hope the mayor does send that telegram to Buffalo Bill. He'd sure know
what to do to stop 'em."
When the men got back to town, the mayor was setting on a chair out front of
the jailhouse. "I got that telegram sent off to Buffalo Bill but we ain't heard
back yet," the mayor yelled to the sheriff.
The sheriff got off his horse and tied the reins up around the hitchin' post.
"There was buffalo as far as we could see. Must be hundreds of 'em. We gotta
stop 'em or they'll trample every crop in the county." While the sheriff
explained his plan to the mayor, the other men went off to recruit more men for
the buffalo hunting party. Nort and his son rode off towards their homestead.
Nort had a some good rifles at home that he thought were big enough to stop a
buffalo. "Go unsaddle the horses. We're gonna take that case of rounds in the
back of the buggy tomorrow," Nort told his son. His son led the horses over to
the tack shed and got to work. Nort went inside the house and told his wife
about the herd of buffalo. He put his new Colt .45 on the mantle over the
fireplace in the front room, next to his hunting knives. Then in the bedroom
he picked up his reliable .38 and put it in his holster. He knew that .38 would shoot straight
and true. That Colt .45 would have to wait until he could shoot it enough to get
the feel of it.
He kept his rifles in a rack on the wall. There were many a coyote and even
some wolves that he stopped with these rifles. Nort remembered a few years back
when he took his rifles to Wichita and had the barrels trued up. They were now
the most accurate rifles he had ever shot. But then, he laughed to himself, he
had never shot any of Buffalo Bill's rifles.
Over in the corner of the room, he had about half a case of .38 rounds left
for his six-shooter. And next to that he had 2 cases of rounds for his .22
rifles. He picked up a case of bullets and carried it out to the buggy. Then a
few minutes later, he came back in for the next case, and carried it out to the
buggy. After two more trips, all his bullets were stowed in the back of the
buggy. About that time, his wife yelled that supper was ready. He grabbed an
armload of firewood from behind the tack shed and carried it into the house. The
horses were put away for the night and he could make out the evening star in the
sky. There was a full moon coming up in the east.
Nort's son tossed and turned in his bed. He was excited. He wanted to shoot a
buffalo but he knew his dad wouldn't let him. His dad would tell him to stay out
of trouble and probably make him load rifles instead of shooting. The full
moon shone in his window. He could hear his dad snoring in the other bedroom.
He couldn't take it anymore. He got up, pulled his pants on and buttoned his
shirt. He carried his boots so he wouldn't wake up his mom and dad. At least out
on the front porch he could listen to the coyotes and watch the full moon,
instead of tossing and turning in his bed.
As he went through the front room, he went over to the fireplace to throw a
log on. As he looked up he saw his dad's new Colt .45 on the mantle. He picked
it up and snuck outside to the front porch. In the light of the full moon he
could see all the details of the gun. He checked to see if it was loaded.
Nothing. His dad was too careful. So he stood there by the light of the full
moon, playing fast draw with the Colt revolver. It was fun, but he knew he
better be quiet so he wouldn't wake up his mom and dad.
He felt a twitch in his nose and woke up. It was cold and he was starting to
shake. He looked up and the full moon was two thirds of the way across the
sky. How long had he been sleeping in the chair on the front porch, he wondered
to himself. He looked
down and saw the Colt .45 on the floor. Luckily he could still hear his dad
snoring. He picked up the gun and his boots and crept quietly back into the
house. He put the gun back on the mantle next to the hunting knives, and noticed there was a box of rounds
there too. The box said .45 caliber. He grabbed a handful of rounds and put them in his pocket. Then he
snuck into his room and got into bed.
"Come on, git up, son! You're sleeping like you been out carousin' all night
long!" Nort said as he shook his son. The boy opened his eyes and could see a
little light outside. "We better git goin' if we're gonna git in that buffalo
huntin' party."
Nort's son got dressed and went in the front room. He could see his mother
putting some bacon and eggs on the table. His dad was already eating. He sat
down and ate as if he was up all night long.
Outside, Nort and his son started hitching the horses up to the buggy. "Hey,
son, I almost forgot my hunting knives. We may have a bunch of buffalo to skin
and bring home some buffalo meat. Run inside and grab my hunting knives off the
mantle. Go grab one of the saddle bags and put the knives in it, I don't want
those knives gettin' lost."
The boy did as he was told, and ran inside the house with the saddle bag. At
the mantle, he saw the Colt .45 and couldn't resist the temptation. He tossed it
in the bag with the knives, and ran outside, and stowed the saddle bag full of
knives under the seat of the buggy.
"We better git goin' if we're gonna make it there by daybreak," Nort said as
his son climbed into the buggy.
"Daddy, can I shoot a buffalo?"
"No, you're gonna load the rifles for me."
As Nort and his son pulled the buggy onto Main Street of Medicine Lodge they
could see a huge crowd in front of the jailhouse. There were men on horses, with
2 or 3 rifles in the saddles. There were several buggies with cases of bullets
loaded in the back and long wooden crates of more rifles.
"Nort, where ya been? We been waitin' for you. You been out playing fast draw
all night with that new gun?" Dean Stanton yelled when he saw Nort pull up to the crowd.
"We better git goin'," the sheriff yelled to the crowd.
They rode for about half an hour going north-northeast towards Isabel on the
old Ridge Road trail. At about 5 miles they could start making out buffalo. It
was a huge herd, the biggest anybody in Medicine Lodge had ever seen. As they got closer, the
sheriff realized just how big their problem was going to be.
"This is a bigger herd than that one I saw in Deadwood back ten years ago,"
the mayor said to the sheriff.
"I never knew you went to Deadwood. Was you playing poker or minin'?" the
sheriff asked.
"Well, yeah, it scared the hell out of me. I was playing poker and won the
hand with two black aces and two black eights. A gun went off out in the street
and I jumped about a foot out of my chair. I grabbed my money and left Deadwood
and ain't been back since!" the mayor said. The sheriff laughed.
As the last of the buggies pulled up, the sheriff turned his horse around so
he could give instructions to the men. "Now, spread out along this ridge so we
can make a wall of rifles. Once we start shootin' the noise ought to scare 'em
in the other direction so they don't go towards town. Wait until I shoot first!"
Slowly the buggies pulled out, and made their way along the ridge. The men on
horseback dismounted and found a good spot with a tree or some cover, and laid
out their rifles and ammunition on the ground. The men in buggies spread out
evenly along the ridge. They formed a wall of firepower about a mile long.
Nort and his son found a spot in some trees, only about 20 yards from the
leading edge of the herd of buffalo. The buffalo just grazed on the grass while Nort tied his
horses to a branch of the tree and unloaded a box of bullets. He
checked each rifle to make sure it was loaded, then laid it out in order on the
ground.
As he carried the last box of bullets, Nort's son could see that saddle bag
with the knives and the Colt .45 in it. He put the box of bullets down by the
rifles. His dad was busy with the rifles. The boy ran back to the buggy, and
grabbed the saddle bag. He quickly reached inside and pulled out the Colt .45.
He reached in his pocket and pulled out the bullets. He popped open the bullet
chamber and carefully put each bullet in. He had seen his dad do it dozens of
times and knew exactly what to do. He clicked the bullet chamber shut and looked
at the gun. And he took off running.
His dad looked up and didn't have the slightest idea what was about to
happen. The boy ran right out towards the buffalo, yelling, "I'm gonna shoot me
a buffalo!" He tripped on a big rock, fell head first into the dirt, and the
Colt .45 went off with a loud boom. A big cloud of bluish gray smoke went
straight up in the air. That was the loudest boom he had ever heard. Even the
trees shook. And the herd of buffalo took off running. And they went in the
direction of Medicine Lodge, not away from the noise like the sheriff thought
they would.
As the buffalo closest to Nort started running, the other buffalo started
running and following. It was like mob mentality. When each buffalo saw the
others running, it started running too.
"Stampede!" the sheriff yelled. But that didn't help much. The men grabbed
their rifles and started shooting, and a few buffalo fell to the ground. But
dozens and dozens stampeded right past the men, following the leading buffalo,
who were following the old Ridge Road trail. The mayor could see a cloud of dust
coming off the trail.
"Anybody hurt?" the sheriff yelled. A few men ran over to pull a buggy
upright, one that was knocked over by a buffalo.
"Dam you," Nort said as he took his hat and used it to beat his son over the
head with. The sheriff laughed. The boy got up, still holding the Colt .45 in
his hand, and started running to the buggy, with Nort running behind, yelling,
cursing and waving his hat and arms in the air.
"Anybody who's not hurt, we better get to town and head off the stampede,"
the sheriff yelled out new instructions to the men.
Anna Mae Jones felt the ground shaking as she stood on the plank sidewalk in
front of the bank. "What is it, an earthquake?" she yelled.
Molly Finch, standing on the plank sidewalk across the street in front of the post office,
yelled out, "What's that cloud of dust?"
John Barber's horse, the only palomino in town, reared up on his hind legs,
breaking the reins from the hitching post. It ran off down the street. All up
and down Main Street, horses reared up and broke the reins, and ran off down the
street. There was only 1 horse with a buggy behind it, tied to the hitching post
in front of the saloon. It reared up, broke the reins, and ran off down the
street with the buggy running wildly behind.
Then the first buffalo came into Main Street. Then the second, then a few
more, and a few more, until Main Street was full of buffalo, stampeding.
Anna Mae Jones shrieked and cried as she held on to the post holding up the
porch roof over the front of the bank. Molly Finch ran inside the post office and
slammed the door behind her, breaking out the glass.
In front of the hotel, there was a buggy without a horse. The leading buffalo
slammed into it, and knocked it clear over on its top.
Mac Reynolds, the town drunk, opened the swinging doors and looked out. A big
buffalo ran up on the plank sidewalk, through the swinging doors, knocking Mac
to the side. The buffalo ran through knocking over everything in its path, and
flew through the big window, breaking all the glass, and back outside. Mac
picked up his bottle of whiskey off the floor, and looked at it, and said, "I
ain't never drinkin' no more never again."
Out on Main Street, the dust was so thick you couldn't see more than a few
feet. The ground shook like an earthquake. Anna Mae Jones was shrieking but you
couldn't hear her because of the noise.
The Postmaster stuck his rifle out the broken window of the door of the post
office, took aim, and fired. His bullet knocked the buffalo down, and another
four buffalo following it fell as they tripped over the body. The Postmaster's
mouth dropped wide open as he looked at that pile of 5 buffalo! "Damnedest thing
I ever seen!" he said to Molly Finch, who was crouched behind the counter of the
stamp window. "'Scuse my language, mam," he said politely, but she wasn't
worried about language at the moment.
At the corner of Main and Kansas Avenue, the buffalo turned down
Kansas Avenue, stampeding past Victorian houses with white picket fences. Little
girls playing on the grass with their dolls screamed and ran inside the house to
their mothers. The ground shook while the cloud of dust covered the white
Victorian houses with red dust. One brave little boy held up his toy pistol,
carved from the branch of a tree, and shot the buffalo as they passed, saying
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" His mother, just as brave, cried out his name as she ran out
the front door, screen door slamming, and picked up her little boy and carried
him back up the stairs to safety inside the house.
As the leading buffalo came to the creek at the west end of Kansas Avenue,
they went for the creek instead of the one-lane bridge. That creek was deep with
steep sides, and as the buffalo ran in, they fell. As each following buffalo ran
up to the creek, it would jump right in, trying to jump the creek. But the creek
was too wide, and the buffalo would fall to the bottom, breaking legs as they
landed in the red mud at the bottom. Soon the creek filled up with dying
buffalo.
After what seemed like an hour, the ground stopped shaking and the dust
cleared. The Postmaster said, "Damnedest thing I ever seen!" as Molly Finch came
out from behind the counter, shaking, but curious. She looked out on the street
to see piles of buffalo, flailing their legs to get up, but prevented from
getting up by their own broken limbs too weak to move their bodies. Up and down
Main Street, there were piles of buffalo 3 and 4 bodies high. Molly Finch looked
across the street to see Ana Mae Jones crying and shrieking, "my dress, I ripped
my new dress". Down the street at the saloon, the doors swung open as Mac
Reynolds staggered out, down the steps, towards a pile of 3 buffalo. He walked
right into the buffalo and fell face first, adding his body to the top of the
pile.
Just then the buffalo hunting party rode into town with the sheriff in the
lead and the mayor right behind. "Oh my Lord," the sheriff said.
"Dear God, I ain't never!" the mayor said.
The door to the telegraph office opened, and out came running a man all
dressed up in his Western Union uniform. "Mr. Mayor, here's that telegram you
wanted. It's from Buffalo Bill, and say's he can't come 'cause he's got to go to
Isabel to stop a huge herd of buffalo from tramplin' the crops!"
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Updated 11/11/08
