CHAPTER SIX
Chance McCandless and Taco were saddened by the state they found the Big M in. They both remembered it as a huge, sprawling empire. The two-story house itself was in need of paint and repairs, as were the barn and the corral.
Desi, who had never seen the ranch before, was impressed, but Taco waved away any approving comments from his cousin before he could utter them.
“Chance, you can stay in the house,” Jake said as they dismounted, “Taco, you can show your cousin to the bunkhouse, where the two of you will stay. Hopefully, it’ll only take a matter of days for us to find our additional hands.”
“And the herd, it is safe?” Taco asked.
“It’s in Candy Box Canyon, and I blocked the mouth with a gate of sorts. They should be fine there until we go and collect them.”
“Señores,” Taco said, “we will take your horses to the barn.”
“Thanks, Taco.”
Jake and Chance handed over the reins of their animals. On the walk to the corral Taco explained to Desi why he should not rave about the ranch.
“But, cousin,” Desi said, puzzled, “I have never seen such a place . . .”
After Chance dropped his rifle and new saddlebags off in his room, he came back downstairs and found Jake sitting at a desk in front of a window. The inside of the house was not in the same state of disrepair that the outside was. It looked the way it had the day Abby died. She had done all the decorating, had directed the building of some of the furniture, bought some of the other pieces, and it looked as if Jake had not changed a thing. Chance had to admit that he felt right at home being back in that house.
“Paperwork was never your strong point,” he observed, sitting across from his friend.
“You don’t have to tell me that,” Jake said. “That was why I had Abby do the numbers. When she died the paper just took over.”
“And now?” Chance asked.
“Now I’ve got to make it work,” Jake said. “I need to buy the horses we’re gonna need for the remuda, outfit the chuckwagon—”
“You buyin’ a chuckwagon and an equipment wagon?”
“No, we’re just gonna have a chuckwagon, and I’m hopin’ to find a cook who has his own. We can load it with food and supplies rather than using two wagons. We’re only gonna have six men and the cook.”
“Six? You said we needed four more.”
“I was thinkin’ about that on the ride back from Mexico. I think two more waddies is all we need, and I’d like them to be young and white.” “Waddy” was cowboy slang for a hired hand.
“You should be able to find two like that in Brownsville,” Chance said.
“I hope so.”
“How much are you gonna pay?”
“I’ll offer the two new waddies twenty-five a week. Desi and Taco I’ll give forty. You’ll get fifty, although I’d like to give you more.”
“You said somethin’ about a percentage.”
“That, too, but I wanna pay you—”
“I’ll just take the percentage, Jake,” Chance said. “Just worry about payin’ the boys.”
“Okay, Chance, we’ll do it that way.”
“How many horses you wanna have along?”
“Three horses a man, I think.”
“Six hands, that’s eighteen. The four of us have our own, so you have to buy fourteen. You got the money for those horses and the supplies?”
Jake sat back in his chair.
“I’ve gotta go to the bank and meet my buyer. He’ll pay me for the ranch, then I’ll pay the bank what I owe in mortgage and loans. What’s left over should cover the bills for this drive.”
“How much are you lookin’ to sell the herd for?”
“I’m hoping for at least fifteen dollars a head. We’re startin’ with six hundred head, and I’m gonna try not to lose too many of those along the way.”
“Gotta lose some,” Chance pointed out. “Even if it’s just the ones we eat.”
“I’m countin’ on you and Taco to watch out for the herd, and watch over the other hands.”
“Want me to come to town with you?” Chance asked.
“Might as well,” he said. “We’ll take Taco and Desi, too. We can all eat, find our last two hands, buy the supplies and horses, and go to the bank. But that’ll all be tomorrow.”
“And what about the cook and chuckwagon?” Chance asked.
“I’ve got a coupla ideas,” Jake said. “Maybe you do, too?”
“I can think of a few names, hopefully they’re still around.”
“We’ll find out tomorrow.”
“What about eatin’ tonight?” Chance asked. “You gonna cook?”
Jake made a face and said, “I was kinda hopin’ you would.”
“Let’s see if either one of our Mexican vaqueros can ride a stove.”
As it turned out, Desi could cook. He looked at what Jake had in his root cellar and managed to make a meal out of it for the four of them.
“That was pretty good, Desi,” Chance said, sitting back in his chair. “Maybe we should make you the cook on the drive.”
“Oh, señor,” Desi said, “I appreciate the offer, but Desi is a vaquero, not a cook.”
“That’s okay, Desi,” Jake said. “I’m lookin’ for a cook who has his own chuckwagon. It’ll cut down on my expenses.”
“Oh, but señor, I know just the person,” Desi said, looking at Taco. “Cousin, what about Carlito?”
“Who’s Carlito?” Jake asked.
“Another cousin,” Taco said thoughtfully. “Sí, he might be your man.”
Jake wasn’t sure he wanted another Mexican on the drive, let alone making him the cook.
“Can he cook American?” Jake asked.
“Sí, he can cook anythin’, señor,” Desi said.
Jake looked to the older cousin, Taco, for the final word.
“Would he do it, Taco? And does he have his own wagon?”
“Sí, señor,” Taco said, “you would only need to buy the supplies.”
“Okay,” Jake said, “Chance and me, we’re goin’ into Brownsville tomorrow to find two more hands and do some other business. How far would you have to ride back into Mexico to get your cousin?”
“Not far, señor,” Taco said. “We could all be back here by tomorrow night—with the wagon.”
Jake looked at Chance.
“Sounds doable, Jake,” he said. “And when we hire two more waddies from Brownsville, we’ll still outnumber these Mex rascals.”
“All right, then,” Jake said, “let’s do it.”
“Sí, señor,” Desi said, standing. “And I will clean up here.”
“Let it go, Desi,” Jake said. “Chance and me’ll clean up. You and Taco turn in. I want you to get an early start tomorrow mornin’.”
“As you wish, jefe,” Desi said.
Taco and Desi left the house to go back to the bunkhouse. Jake and Chance cleaned off the table, but left the dishes piled in the kitchen. They went back to the table to share some coffee.
“It’s a small price to pay,” Chance said, “havin’ a Mexican cook, if he’s got his own chuckwagon.”
“I shoulda asked Taco if we had to buy him a team of mules to pull it.”
“Seems to me a fella who’s got his own wagon would also have his own team.”
“Sounds right,” Jake said.
“You wanna split up tomorrow?” Chance asked. “You go to the bank, and I’ll go and look at some horses?”
“We might as well split the chores,” Jake said. “Then we can look for two hands together.”
“I’ll ask the hostler at the livery if he knows anybody lookin’ for work,” Chance suggested.
“Good idea. If not him, then some bartender is gonna know.”
Chance sat back in his chair and looked around the dining room. There was a large cabinet filled with china he knew Abby loved, and they were seated at a long dining room table she had had delivered from St. Louis.
“Whadaya gonna do with all this stuff?” he asked. “The furniture and all.”
Jake hesitated before answering. He wasn’t sure how his friend would take what he was about to say.
“I’m sellin’ the place as is, Chance,” he said finally.
“All Abby’s stuff?” Chance asked.
“The buyer’s young wife loves it all,” Jake said, “and I agreed to just leave it be. I mean, what the hell would I do with all of it if I don’t have a house to put it in?”
“I guess you got a point,” Chance said.
“I’m convinced she wouldn’t mind,” Jake said.
“I think you’re right,” Chance said. “Why not let some other young bride enjoy it all.”
Jake noticed his friend’s eyes still roaming around the room.
“You wanna sweeten that coffee with a little whiskey?” he asked.
“I do,” Chance said, licking his lips, “but . . .”
“It’s okay,” Jake said. He got up, went to the front room, took a bottle of whiskey out of his desk drawer, and carried it back to the dining room.
“Tonight we can have it,” he said, pouring some into each of their coffee cups, “but once we start the drive, no whiskey for anybody.”
“That sounds fair,” Chance said.
So fair, in fact, that once the coffee was gone, they continued to pour whiskey into their cups.
“I think that’s enough,” Jake finally said. “Let’s turn in, and clean the kitchen tomorrow before we go to town.”
Chance gave the half-full whiskey bottle a wistful look before Jake whisked it away and put it back in his desk drawer—which he locked.