“FOR ALL I’VE known his pappy a fair few years, I wasn’t overkeen on having him along when he asked to come along on the drive,” Stone Hart remarked, watching until Thorny Bush resumed the routine work interrupted by chasing the steer. Then, starting to turn and set his bayos-cebrunos gelding at a walk in the direction the herd was traveling, he continued, “But, despite the way he’s got himself armed and dotes on riding paints, he’s doing all right.”
“I don’t reckon Cap’n Fog’d take kind to hearing that ‘despite’,” Waggles Harrison drawled, aware of in whose honor the youngster had selected his armament and preference in color for the horses selected to be his mount. “But I go along with you. He’s no show-off, nor trigger fast ’n’ up-from-Texas kid allus on the prod for any excuse to start using them fancy white-handled Colt guns. Fact being, he never tries to prove he can use ’em, even though he can passably. Top of that, ’cepting he was just a smidgen too eager to make good first off, way he’s never pulled back from any chore he’s been handed, I reckon he’s making a hand.”
“You won’t get any argument from me on that,” Stone declared, knowing Bush would have been delighted with the last part of his segundo’s comment. It implied that the youngster had not been found wanting in any aspect of his duties or way of living among older men with more experience. “I just hope he doesn’t go the same way as that kid who was wrangler for Dusty when he took the Rocking H herd to Dodge against Wyatt Earp’s saying it wasn’t to come.”
“Do you reckon anything like that could happen to him where we’re going?” Waggles inquired somberly, knowing the fate that had befallen Little Jackie the wrangler on the trail drive in question. vii
“I’ve got no reason to think it should,” Stone admitted, but something in the way he was speaking drew his companion’s eyes his way. “Did I have, I wouldn’t have brought Margaret along, or let her come until I was sure everything was going to be all right.”
“I’d have admired to see you try stopping her,” the segundo claimed, a grin coming to his leathery face. “The boss lady’s one to stand aside from when she gets bound and determined to do something.”
“She’s all of that and more, amigo,” the trail boss affirmed, and glanced to where his wife was sitting on the box of the leading wagon, giving no indication of her physical disability.
“Know something, boss?” Waggles asked, having gotten out of the habit of remembering that Margaret Hart was blind. “I’ve a feeling you haven’t been quite as easy as you might about coming out to take over your uncle’s spread.”
“Well, there’re things about the way it came to me that I’m a mite curious over,” Stone conceded, aware that their long association had enabled Waggles to read his moods even though the puzzlement he had experienced had not previously been discussed between them. “Uncle Cornelius Maclaine was never close even to Momma. Fact being, we’d never heard a word from him after she got married on account of Pappy wasn’t a Yankee. So the last thing I’d have expected was for him to leave me his spread in his will.”
“Could be he had a change of heart,” the segundo suggested. “I’ve heard tell as sometimes folks do, even though they be Yankees. Or didn’t have no other kin, leastwise any he liked well enough to want to pass it on to.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” Stone said with a wry grin. “But Momma always used to reckon he wouldn’t change his winter long Johns and socks come summer until folks started backing off downwind from him.”
Despite the lighthearted way in which the trail boss was speaking, he was correct about the feelings the unexpected bequest of the ranch had engendered. In fact, he had forgotten about the existence of his maternal uncle until, on his return from his latest trail drive, a member of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency acting on behalf of Cornelius Maclaine had brought him the news that he had inherited a ranch in Arizona. Finding Stone had not required any great powers of deduction, nor the employment of that already famous—if not always liked, on account of questionable methods it was alleged to use on behalf of its clients—organization’s excellent facilities for picking up information. It was well known that he based himself in San Antonio de Bexar between drives and could be contacted by leaving a message at the bar of the Bull’s Head Saloon, the owner of which was a friend of long standing.
When questioned by Stone, the meeting having taken place in person, the operative could give little information about the spread other than its location. However, he had stated that he had been asked to say there were no outstanding debts to be settled. What was more, not only were the taxes levied by the authorities in what was still a territory and not a state of the Union covered until the end of the year, but the same applied to the wages—paid by Counselor Edward Sutherland, the lawyer in Child City, seat of Spanish Grant County, who handled the affair—of the men hired to take care of the property until he arrived to assume control.
The news had come at a time when Stone was facing a dilemma.
When it had become obvious that war could not be avoided, Stone had decided like many others being trained as potential officers in the United States Military Academy at West Point on the Hudson River in southeast New York State, that his support must be given to the Southern cause. Like the majority of Texans who shared the sentiment, he had not been led to the conclusion by a desire to retain ownership of slaves; like many others in Texas, his family had never owned any, or wished to. Rather, he was impelled by the knowledge that, under the Constitution, any state finding its policies incompatible with those the federal government was trying to impose had the right to secede from the Union. Therefore, he had taken the privilege offered by the Commanding Officer of the Academy to all who shared his point of view and resigned.
Although Stone had never acquired the well-deserved fame of Turner Ashby, John Singleton “the Gray Ghost” Mosby, and the Lone Star State’s own Dusty Fog as a cavalry leader, nor specialized as they had in carrying out raiding expeditions that caused the Yankees grave problems, he had served with distinction. On recuperating from the wound gained when he saved the life of Belle Boyd, he had been assigned to help Colonel Jubal Early deliver herds of longhorn cattle required to feed General Ole Devil Hardin’s Army of Arkansas and North Texas in its fight to hold on to the first state. viii The experience he had gained in the performance of that important—albeit less-than-glamorous—duty was to serve him in good stead when, accepting that the military career for which he had been trained was no longer possible, he went back to civilian life.
Returning to Texas, Stone had found his prospects far from rosy. His parents had died in his absence and, flocking like vultures to feed on a corpse, Yankee carpetbaggers—with the support of the State Police, who had replaced the Texas Rangers with the authority of the federal government’s Reconstruction Administration led by Governor Bartholomew Davis—made the most of their opportunities to turn a profit in every way possible. The Hart ranch was only one to fall into such grasping hands under the excuse of payment of the requisite taxes having lapsed. ix
Faced by the need to find gainful employment, like many other returning veterans who had supported the South, Stone had turned to the cattle business. When the trail drives had begun, he had seen a way by which he could turn the knowledge acquired under Jubal Early to his advantage. Instead of going to work for one of the large spreads that sent their own cattle, he had elected to offer his services to those ranchers who had less stock and could not afford the expense of sending the comparatively small amounts available to the lucrative markets available only in far-off Kansas. Gathering the nucleus of what became known as the Wedge crew—the road brand he adopted, to establish his right to deliver the cattle bearing the indications of ownership by his clients, was shaped like such a tool—he had commenced operations.
Such was the success Stone and the Wedge crew achieved that they had continued to be engaged in the lucrative occupation for several years. One unusual assignment to come their way was driving a herd of buffalo—a species already badly depleted by hunting for hides and meat—to a place set out as a sanctuary. x However, the time had come when the curtailment of their source of income was a real possibility.
Prior to leaving on the latest-completed trail drive, Stone had met and married the daughter of one of the ranchers for whom he was taking cattle to the railroad shipping point in Kansas. Because of the scar left by the saber of the Yankee he had prevented from killing the Rebel Spy, he had previously tended to shy away from the company of what were classed as “good” women by the standards of the day; he believed that the disfigurement of his features the scar caused would be regarded with revulsion by them. Nor had he ever considered forming any permanent attachment to the occasional female companions he met in saloons.
From the beginning of their acquaintance, Margaret Goddard had never struck him in such a fashion. Nor had this been entirely due to her having lost her eyesight in a childhood accident. In fact, such was her capability at coping with most things around the ranch house that had always been her home that he had not realized she was blind until he saw her walking outside with Rolf, the dog that served a vital purpose in helping her overcome her disability. One of the chocolate-colored retrievers originally bred for the demanding task of collecting waterfowl killed by hunters from the icy cold and often rough water of Chesapeake Bay, it possessed, despite being large and powerful, an intelligence and tractable nature that allowed it to take to the tasks of what in a later period would be termed a seeing-eye dog.
There had been factors causing Stone to think about making a change to his way of life even before he had learned of the bequest from his uncle. For one thing, such had been the number of animals sent to Kansas that many of the owners who used his services were having difficulty keeping the level of their remaining stock at a viable level.
Consequently, they were either selling out to larger ranchers or holding on to the remaining animals so as to let the herds increase. Another factor was the way in which railroads were beginning to be constructed: many branch lines connected to the main intercontinental route in Kansas. Although they had not yet removed the need for Texans to make the long drive north, eventually they would bring an end to the need for the Wedge crew’s specialized occupation. Lastly, and by far the most important consideration where Stone was concerned, was that although Margaret had made no complaint, he had no desire to leave her behind for the lengthy periods he would be absent on the trail.
Having saved a considerable portion of his earnings against such an eventuality, Stone had the means to purchase a small ranch. Margaret had an older brother who was a competent hand in all aspects of running their property and had, in fact, been on a trail drive with Wedge. Stone—with her agreement—had declined an offer from her father to make his home there instead of buying some other property. However, the arrival of the Pinkerton agent had prevented his having to do either. Having no information about the state of the stock at the ranch in Arizona, he had decided to make sure that there was the nucleus of a breeding herd by taking some of his own along. Showing none of the conservatism of some ranchers where the possibility of raising Hereford cattle on a comparatively free-ranging basis was concerned, he had elected to invest some of his capital in purchasing enough bulls and cows to become established in their new home.
Although a couple of his regular Wedge hands were unavailable due to private affairs demanding their attention, Stone experienced no difficulty in gathering the crew required to move the cattle from Texas to Arizona. Waggles Harrison and the remaining regulars immediately offered their services after being informed of what was contemplated. Stating that he did not consider it fair for other members of his honored occupation to be saddled with cooking for such a worthless and unappreciative bunch, Chow Willicka—if anybody had ever discovered his given name, it was not disclosed—announced that he would, out of the goodness of his heart.
Aided by Tarbrush, who arrived one morning and said he had heard somebody was needed as nighthawk and that he had urgent reasons for wishing to avoid being found by an unspecified number of outraged fathers of ladies of his acquaintance, Arnold Watts—claiming to have become infected by Silent Churchman’s frequently stated hatred of “cows”—was eager to retain his position as wrangler for the remuda despite being qualified to ride the herd. Drawn by the mysterious “prairie telegraph” that could spread news at surprising speed across the range, enough men of the quality Stone required had soon arrived. He had yielded, not without reluctance, to the request from an old friend to take Thorny Bush along. However, despite the youngster’s lack of experience, he had so far been given no cause to regret the decision.
Two potential difficulties had been solved to Stone’s complete satisfaction.
Jonathan Ambrose Raybold—who had frequently taken grave exception to being addressed by either Christian name instead of Johnny—had been compelled to go to New York on urgent family business, xi and was unavailable to perform the very important function of scout. However, a most adequate replacement had been found through the auspices of Ole Devil Hardin. The misgivings Stone had experienced over taking Margaret away from the familiar surroundings in which she had grown up were lessened to a great extent by another development. It was Jason Willis who provided a suitable solution.
Since they were sidekicks from childhood days in Texas, Rusty—as he insisted upon being called—would have gone with Doc Leroy to help follow up a tip that it was hoped would lead to the hired gunfighter Hayden Paul Lindrick, whom they blamed for the murder of Doc’s parents. xii However, Rusty had sustained a fall while taking the bedsprings out of the belly of a newly acquired addition to the Wedge’s remuda. The injury was serious enough for him to be confined to a sickbed under the care of an attractive and most efficient nurse. The bond that developed between them had proved so strong that, claiming what was good enough for Stone, Dusty Fog, and Red Blaze was good enough for him, xiii he had proposed marriage and been accepted. As a result, Stephanie Willis had not only agreed to accompany her husband to Arizona, where he would remain as a member of the Wedge, she had volunteered to take on the duties of maid and housekeeper until Margaret was used to coping with the new environment at the ranch. The proposition had been gratefully accepted and, each possessing an adaptable and amiable personality, the two young women quickly became good friends.
The drive from Texas had so far been accomplished with only a few problems, and none of a serious nature. Stone had often blessed his good fortune in having such a competent crew. Under the supervision of Waggles, whose duties as segundo brought him closer than the trail boss to the crew, the newcomers had formed into a smoothly functioning team. Nor had there been any friction between them and the old hands. Having been born and raised among cowhands, Bush had accepted that he must stand for some ribbing on account of his youth. He soon began to counter it with assertions that he was surrounded by a bunch of old and decrepit men who ought by rights to be hard-wintering around the stove in the bunkhouse instead of trying to act as if they were still prime, hale, and hearty.
Nor was there ever any objectionable treatment accorded to Tarbrush because of his race and color. Realizing the importance of his work, even without needing to be told to do so, the crew did all they could to minimize the noise they made near the bed wagon while he was sleeping. In fact, the only piece of trouble involving Tarbrush took place at a saloon in New Mexico when a drunken mule-skinner who claimed to have fought in the Union Army during the War Between the States referred to him as a “goddamned uppity black.” During the course of the ensuing conflict, the offending man and the barroom sustained considerable damage at the hands of the outraged Texans. However, the owner—also a Southron—had informed the local peace officers that the injured man had caused the fuss and attached no blame for the fracas to his fellow Johnny Rebs, so they were allowed to go on their way after paying a nominal fine.
“I’ve got kin like tha—!” Waggles began, amused by the less-than-flattering assessment of her uncle made by the now-deceased Mrs. Hart. Then he swung his gaze ahead and went on in what Stone realized was a subtly different tone, “Looks like we’ve got us some company coming, and I can’t say I’m taken with the look of them.”