“SO THAT SCRAWNY hombre reckoned you were trying to wide-loop AW beef, did he?” Stone Hart inquired.
“That’s what he reckoned,” Silent Churchman agreed, having reported what had taken place during the latest run-in with Skinny McBride after rejoining the herd with the C Over M cattle he and Thorny Bush had gathered. “Could be it was more ’cause he was riled up over what came off when we was like’ to lock horns on the trail count, and was hunting for evens.”
“’Cepting he wouldn’t’ve figured on finding you where you was,” Waggles Harrison pointed out. He had received a signal to leave the point of the herd and join his boss to hear what the stocky cowhand had to say. “Not unless he’d been scouting the herd and seen you light out with Thorny. Which being, he’d have to’ve been smarter’n he struck me as being to have done the scouting. I’d say even Johnny’d’ve been real lucky to pull off a scout and Kiowa not find him. Fact being, I only know one feller who could, and I wouldn’t say that skinny hombre’s another Ysabel Kid.”
“There’s them’s’ve said just one of the Kid’s four at least too many,” Silent drawled, unable to stop the kind of comment by which a cowhand indicated he had the greatest admiration for the man about whom he was speaking. “And, at the risk of being thought an apple polisher, which everybody knows I am, I go along with you about that knob head not being one of ’em.”
“Seeing as how he almost certainly wasn’t hunting you special for evens,” Stone remarked, “why’d he reckon you was after wide-looping AW cattle?”
“Could reckon everybody’s mean, dishonest, ’n’ sneaky, as he knows he is,” Silent offered. “And, which I wouldn’t put past him no more’n I would hearing he votes Republican, being the sort he is, he’s likely done a fair amount of wide-looping ’n’ concludes everybody else’s the same.”
“Except, unless that map Counselor Sutherland sent along is wrong,” Stone countered, “we’re just about off AW range, and that puts us on our own. Sure, I know them goddamned cows you hate so much don’t have a lick of enough good sense to know where they should be. Only, I wouldn’t’ve thought a yahoo like him would be so all-fired keen to earn his pay that he’d be riding on speculation looking for some of us fixing to wide-loop some of his boss’s beef.”
“Could’ve been told to go out ’n’ do it,” Silent suggested, and closed both eyes before continuing. “Present company not counted as such, way I see it, there’s some segundos’re real mean like that.”
“Whyn’t you go look in on that little ole calf who saved you from all them fine critters?” Waggles growled. Then he went on in a less annoyed-sounding manner, “Like I said this morning, boss, nothing I saw of Jimmy Conlin makes me think he’d pull a game like sending somebody to make fuss with us. Or, if he did, after what happened when they made their try, he’s smart enough to’ve picked somebody a heap better than that scrawny hombre. There’s another thing: none of the crew he had with him came close to being from the same litter as Korbin ’n’ his bunch. They was all cowhands no better nor worse than any others I’ve come across saving these yahoos I’ve got saddled with. Anybody’d have to be better than them.”
“He means us, your loyal, faithful, ’n’ hardworking crew, boss,” Silent informed his longtime employer as if wishing to let him in on a carefully kept secret.
“And I’m inclined to reckon he’s more right than wrong on it,” Stone declared, then became serious. “Anyways, amigo, I’m right pleased you didn’t kill him.”
“Got to thinking as we was headed back as how we should maybe’ve brought him in so’s he could do some talking,” the stocky cowhand admitted. “They do say ole Kiowa runs the Kid close second on persuading fellers to speak up all free ’n’ helpful. Which some of us aren’t exactly slouches at it, neither. Only, he’d got him a Spencer rifle again’ me ’n’ Thorny toting carbines, so doing it wouldn’t’ve been easy.”
“And as much shooting as it’d’ve likely took,” Waggles drawled, knowing Silent would not have been deterred by the possible danger—other than on Bush’s account—if he had thought the attempt would prove productive. “Any of his bunch who might’ve been around’d’ve come a-running even if they didn’t like him, and nobody could blame ’em should that be the case. Then you’d have had you a shooting war on your hands, boss, which none of us wants.”
“I know it, you know it, but does Mr. Eardle?” Stone said soberly. “Because, way everything’s starting to look, it seems like he’s hunting fuss regardless of what you reckon about his foreman and crew you met in town.”
“Do you reckon you’ll like it here, honey?” the boss of the Wedge asked in the kind of worried tone a husband always adopts when his wife is about to make the first acquaintance with what is to be her new home.
“I’m sure I will,” Margaret Hart replied, only just refraining from adding, “because we’ll be there together.” Instead, having no desire to appear as romantic as a young bride after having been married for—well, too long for such to be considered fitting, she went on, “Steffie’s described it for me, and it sounds just like I’ve always dreamed of living in.”
Glancing at the tawny-haired woman by her side, Steffie Willis was hard put to hold down a smile. She would not, she told herself, ever have let it be known how she harbored a similar affection for her husband of a slightly shorter period.
Because Kiowa Cotton and the rest of the crew had maintained an even closer watch after the incident between Silent Churchman and Skinny McBride—perhaps even because of it—the last remaining miles of the trail drive had passed uneventfully.
On coming into sight of the property that was to be the permanent home for the Wedge, Stone Hart had left dealing with the herd to Waggles Harrison and ridden to where the line of wagons was approaching. Calling a mock-derisive warning to the big Chesapeake Bay retriever loping alongside his wife’s vehicle that its days of loafing around hunting rabbits were over and it would be back to serious work again, he received a wag from its tail. Then, anticipating Steffie would have supplied the necessary information about the ranch’s buildings, he had addressed the question to Margaret. In fact, as he rarely gave a thought to Margaret’s being blind—so competently did she comport herself in everyday life—he had only just prevented himself from phrasing the question as if she could have made the examination herself.
Paying more attention to what lay ahead than he had so far due to his being absorbed in the preparations for the disposal of the herd, Stone studied the buildings and their surroundings. He decided he liked what he saw and felt sure the ash-blonde had described them accurately for his wife. As he felt sure would be the case with every ranch in Arizona Territory, the threat of Apache raiding never entirely dying away regardless of whether there were any in the vicinity or not, the buildings were laid out in a position that allowed each to offer mutual defense with the others. Most headquarters for spreads in the Lone Star State were erected in a similar fashion for the same reason, although Comanches, Caddoes, and Kiowas were the primary cause after the threat from Comancheros had been brought to an end by a most effective punitive action, carried out primarily by the Texas Rangers.
Set as the central point of the layout, the ranch house could not come anywhere close to matching the size and elegance conveyed by General Ole Devil Hardin’s enormous OD Connected spread in Rio Hondo County. Stone had visited it for social reasons on several occasions—it being large enough and sufficiently prosperous to send its own trail herds to the shipping points in Kansas—and he had received the kind of hospitality for which it was justly famous throughout Texas. In fact, he felt it could be a touch too small for what Margaret and he had in mind as being part of their not-too-distant future. Shortly after their wedding, they had been assured by a young doctor freshly arrived from the East and well-versed in all the latest medical techniques and discoveries that her blindness was unlikely to be passed on to her offspring. Therefore, they had decided they would make a start at raising a family once the Wedge had come to its permanent home.
From the study he had made while coming to join Margaret, Stone concluded that it was not only the size of the house that would need to be enlarged. Whereas the barn and small blacksmith’s forge would be sufficient for their needs, the two corrals could do with being made larger. On the other hand, because he would only be retaining the permanent members of the Wedge crew for the everyday handling of chores and taking on such additional help as was required for such things as a major roundup on a temporary basis, the bunkhouse—which he guessed had a kitchen for Chow Willicka to lord over attached—would be adequate, although he had no intention of restricting the standard of their accommodation to what it was claimed was once offered by the so-called Cattle King, John Chisum. xx He was also pleased to notice that there were two smaller buildings, apparently equally sturdily constructed, which would serve as living quarters for Steffie and Rusty Willis and the Mexican couple, who would also be staying on. To further make the property attractive from his point of view, the grazing around it was good and what he guessed from some trees and bushes growing along the banks would be a permanent stream flowing in a curve around the buildings and which had been dammed to form a good-size pool that would be ideal for watering stock.
All in all, the boss of the Wedge considered himself fortunate in his inheritance.
However, Stone still felt puzzled over why Cornelius Maclaine—with whom his mother had always said they had never been on friendly terms—had elected to leave him such an obviously valuable property.
“What’s going to happen next, now we’ve got to our new home, honey?” Margaret inquired, cutting in on her husband’s reverie.
“We’ll leave the herd to graze ’n’ rest up ’round here and get ourselves all fancied up—!” Stone began.
“Oh, that’s just for you men,” Margaret stated, contriving to sound as if the disposal of the animals upon which to a large extent the future of the ranch depended were a matter of minor importance. “I mean in the house.”
“Well, now,” Stone answered with a grin he knew his wife would sense even though she could not see it. “I’d say as how, being right uppity for a new’ wed, and be a real respectful wife is a chore for you, Steffie and Rosita and such being so’s makes it none of my never mind.”
“I do so wish that fool Rusty of mine was as smart and knowing as your catch, Margaret,” the ash-blonde declared. “At least he knows what’s what.”
“It took me a long time to train him that way,” the tawny-haired woman asserted. “And Mr. Stone Hart, I’m not all that new’ wed. Anyways, what’s coming next?”
“I’m going to pay off the crew ’n’ let them go into town for a wing-ding like has always been done at the end of a drive,” the boss of the Wedge replied.
“Will the herd be all right when you’ve gone?” Steffie inquired. “And, afore I get told, that’s no never mind for us womenfolk.”
“You’re right, likely for the first in your life ’cepting when you let Rusty do you the honor of being his wife,” Stone answered. “But they’ve been traveling a good spell without more resting than was got overnight. So, being the grazing ’n’ water’s good right here, they won’t figure on doing much moving around.” He paused and waved a hand toward where an elderly-looking woman and four men of around the same age were coming from the front door of the ranch house. “Here come the folks Counselor Sutherland took on to watch over the property until we got here. Likely those gents can do all the ’tending all the herd’ll need ’til the boys come back.”
“Don’t you mean ‘the boys and I get back,’ dear?” Margaret asked. “I’ve heard you always go with them on the first whoop-up at the end of a drive.”
“Sure I used to,” Stone admitted, as his wife had spoken the truth about his invariable habit when reaching the destination after a trail drive. “But—!”
“There isn’t any ‘but’ about it,” Margaret declared in a firm tone. “I know you’re going to be a regular henpecked husband, but I don’t want you to find it out just yet. So you’re going and Steffie and I have a few things we want to get from the general store, so we’ll come along. There’s sure to be a hotel or somewhere else we can stay until you menfolk get through drinking and carousing.”
“Have it your way, honey,” Stone drawled, guessing that his wife and the ash-blonde were not averse to the chance of getting away from the cattle for a while.
“I always intend to,” Margaret threatened.
“The great seizer’s headed in, boss,” Waggles Harrison reported, riding up before any more could be said. “I wonder what’s bringing him here?”
“Not to throw all you worthless bunch in jail before you can lead that sweet innocent husband of mine astray, I don’t suppose,” Steffie remarked. “I just couldn’t be that lucky.”
“Now me, I thought you married Rusty,” the segundo countered. “Anyways, boss, he’s likely only drifting over to let us know when the next lot of taxes on the spread’ll be coming due.”
Studying Amon Reeves as he rode closer accompanied by an Indian-dark and slightly surly-seeming young man wearing the badge of a deputy sheriff, Stone concluded that he was the kind of peace officer Waggles had claimed. Tall, well if not bulkily built, there was nothing of the swaggering bully the Earps and others of their kind displayed. Furthermore, his clean range-country clothing was of a sufficiently moderately priced kind to imply that he was honest enough to live on just his salary as sheriff. While there was strength in his not-unpleasant tanned features, there was also a suggestion of the saving grace of humor. Such a man, the boss of the Wedge knew, would handle his duties fairly and well. The walnut-handled Colt Peacemaker revolver on his right side hung ready for rapid use, and he gave the impression of being capable of making the best of this advantage.
“Howdy, Cap’n Hart, ladies,” the sheriff greeted as he and his companion drew their horses to a halt a short distance from the wagon. His accent was that of a New Englander in spite of his appearing completely at home in his Western clothing. “Mind if me ’n’ Deputy Alvord light and talk a spell?”
“Be right gratified if you would,” Stone authorized, pleased by the display of correct range-country etiquette, which some peace officers would have ignored.
“I’m afraid we don’t have any coffee or food to offer you, gentlemen,” Margaret apologized in her capacity of the woman of the house, even though she had not yet been inside it. “But if you can wait a little while, I’m sure some can be fixed.”
“My thanks, ma’am,” Reeves replied, doffing his hat before dismounting. “I’m right sorry, but I’ve a mite of business to do afore I do any socializing.”
“Which means you don’t want any nosy womenfolk around,” Margaret said with a smile. “So we’ll go and see if we can scare up the coffee and a mite to eat.”
“Well, I’ll be switched!” the sheriff exclaimed, as the wagon started moving and, having been standing in a clearly protective posture below its mistress, the big dog went along with it. “I haven’t seen a Chessy in more years than I want to think on. How is he on fetching back ducks?”
“He’s never been tried, but he’s slicker than a chicken hawk with four feet on rabbits,” Stone replied, and seeing a brief expression that passed over Reeves’s face, continued in a tone redolent of apology, “If that doesn’t make a duck-hunting man like I figure you to be feel like throwing up. Now what can I do for you, Sheriff?”
“It close to does,” Reeves claimed with a grin, then became serious. “Anyways, I had a feller with a complaint come into the office soon as I opened her this morning. He allows that he was riding along peaceable and minding his own business when he come across two of your hands with a herd of cattle. Was figuring to go on by when damned if one of ’em didn’t up ’n’ throwed down with a rifle and shot his hoss from under him. Did it happen that way?”
“Not as I was told by the hand, who I’ll come out straight and admit did shoot his hoss from under him,” Stone answered, drawing a conclusion he regarded with offering to lead to satisfactory relationship with the sheriff, going by the way in which the question was posed after the brief digression concerning the Chesapeake Bay retriever. “Way Silent tells it, he was hunting for some more C Over M cattle to add on to the gather him and another of the crew made so’s we could vent and rebrand them with the Wedge when he come on that scrawny hombre. They’d had less’n friendly words last time they met and the jasper took to talking mean, then cut loose with a rifle. Silent answered, the feller’s hoss took lead which I’ll have to admit was aimed for him, so he got behind its body ’n’ forted up. Although young Thorny Bush, who you remember from when Waggles brought him into Child City, come up to see what was happening and wanted to chill the feller’s milk some, Silent minded as I’d said I didn’t want fuss and left him to get home afoot.”
“Mind if I talk to this here Silent, if he don’t live up to his name, and the young ’un?” Reeves asked.
“I don’t and Silent won’t,” Stone asserted with a grin, showing he had not taken offense at the suggestion. “Specially if you should ask how he rescued a li’l ole Hereford bull calf from what he claims to be a whole slew of meat-eating critters who had it in mind to make a meal of it.”
“Way you say that,” the sheriff said, “I reckon I’ll be smart to keep off that while we’re talking. Then, after we’ve taken your lady’s right kind invitation, you won’t mind me going out to where it happened so as young Alvord can read the sign?”
“That’s part of your job,” Stone answered. “Which being, as a soon to be good taxpaying citizen of Spanish Grant County who likes to get value for my money, I’m all for the duly appointed and well-paid peace officers of said county doing plenty of work.”
“Mind if I ask you to let your taxes let afore you start paying ’em?” the sheriff inquired with such a straight face that he, too, might have been in earnest. “There’s already way too many with the same notion around.”
“I was figuring on fetching the crew into town to celebrate finishing the drive soon,” Stone remarked. “But I’ll hold back on it until I’ve got your go-ahead.”
“You’ve got it now, so don’t forget to pay up your taxes with a smile,” Reeves authorized in an amiable fashion. “Way your boy’s’ve already been in behaved, ’specially Peaceful when he got pushed into what could have easy’ve wound up bad trouble, I don’t figure they’ll make any serious fuss even should any of the other crews happen by. They all got on good and friendly the first time, so everything’s likely to stay as peaceable as Peaceful allows he just wants them to be.”