The Sundown Chaser

THURMAN helped Mary down from the stage and looked around them in the mid-afternoon. A nice orderly-looking place, Billings was a lot like many Western towns. He’d asked the stage driver at the last stopover about a suitable hotel. He’d recommended the Bismarck, and it was only a block away. Thurman stored their things in the stage office except for Mary’s bag, and they started down the boardwalk. The Real Food Café was ahead of them on their side of the street.

A good-sized woman came over to where they sat to take their order. “You two must be new in town. I’m Maude and this is my place.”

“Lots of Texas folks up here. My husband, Buster, is from Texas.” She looked over at the kitchen doorway where he stood, rolling a cigarette in his fingers. “Buster, these folks are from Texas.”

Buster nodded. “I know him. Ain’t seen him in fifteen years. Don’t you know who he is?”

Thurman nodded, and rose. “Your husband and I were together in the war, too. Come over and meet my wife, Sergeant.”

“I’ll be damned,” Buster said, still acting surprised. “You’re the last person I ever expected to see in Billings.”

“Damn sure is that. Sit down,” Buster said, and scraped up a chair. Seated, he struck a gopher match under the table and lit the twisted cylinder. “Captain Baker, I guess you’re here to see Herschel.”

Buster looked at the floor and took the cigarette out of his mouth. “Reckon he’d listen?”

“Cap’n, I got to tell you if you don’t know that Travis’s dead. They buried him between here and the Little Big Horn over five years ago.”

“I heard that. Met a man from the cattle drives down at the Red River a couple of months ago who knew Travis. Said he made a helluva hand with a horse.” Thurman nodded. “Both of them boys could always ride.”

“No, he’s up at the Soda Springs dance this weekend. Been a murder up there and he’s trying to solve it. And he will, too. Solves them all.”

“The whole family is up there,” Maude said, bringing them plates of food. “I get to hold the baby while you eat. Where are you staying?”

“Been a long time, Cap’n. That mud in Mississippi I won’t ever forget. Got it even behind my teeth—” Buster broke up, coughing. “Worst damn thing I ever slipped in, fell, and even rolled in.”

Buster looked like the mud still bothered him. “It was the trip home got me. They let you keep your horse and six-gun. Was there six or so of us got back home together?

“We were on foot and in Louisiana. Then you stole them Yankee hosses for us and we all rode home from there. I always wondered why you took all that risk.”

Buster dropped his head and shook it. “I ain’t so damn sure, as tough as those times were, I would have. You did a good thing for some worn-out soldiers that you didn’t have to do and risked your life doing it.”

“I’m healed of that war, Buster. I don’t dream about it no more. I only reflect with my old friends about it.”

“That’s good,” Buster agreed. “Herschel’ll be back Sunday evening. I don’t know what to tell you. I mean, he don’t say much about his feelings. I asked him several times about you and he shrugged it off.”

“Well, that’s his business. I came a long ways to find him. But if he’s not interested, then I guess I can ride back.”

Buster ground out his cigarette in an ashtray and put it on another table. “He’s got a good wife and three dandy girls. They keep him hopping.”

“He really had a tough fight,” Maude said, rocking the baby. “When they shot his best friend in the back and the sheriff we had then never investigated it, he went on a one-man campaign that liked to get him killed and almost burned him up when they burned his place down.

“His wife, Marsha, really helped him get elected. He took them all on, even the big corporation ranches who’d ran things up till then.”

“Sounds like he did a great job. I learned what he was doing clear down in Wichita, Kansas.”

Buster nodded. “He changed things around here. There’s real law. He’s got lots of that Baker stick-to-it in him.”

“Thanks, Buster, for putting in a word. I’m on my own now.” Thurman buttered another biscuit, considering the meeting he planned with his son.

“Cap’n, you know I’d about gave up that day when you came riding back for us with them horses?”

“My bare feet were bloody raw. My belly button rubbing my backbone. I think if I’d had a gun, I’d of ended my life right there. Then you came busting into camp shouting, ‘Get in the saddle,’ and I couldn’t believe it.”

“I saw O’Brien in Fort Smith. His wife died while he was off in the war. His sons are dead and his daughter keeps his house.”

Maude shook her head at him with a frown about his remark, and handed the baby back to Mary. “She’s such a terror, she just may fire you,” Maude said after Buster.

She left them to finish their meal, and Mary smiled at Thurman. “It was nice to meet your friend and his wife.”

“I don’t know, Mary. Maybe a day, maybe longer. He may say no so loud to my offer, we can leave in the morning.”

She shook her head and tossed her braids over her shoulder. “No, but sometimes I think about things that will happen.”

Mary held the boy in the crook of her arm and ate with the other hand like it was no problem. “How did Buster get up here?”

“Well, if you think hauling you across the United States and territories is helping people, you’re easy to please.”

After lunch, they took a room in the Bismarck and he went off to find a card game. In the Antelope, he joined some poker players and told them his name was Thurman. The others were a man called Barrow, with hard eyes and deft hands when he was shuffling cards, the town physician, and Carl Reeves, who ran a sawmill.

Barrow kept looking at him like he was trying to place him. “Thurman, you sure look familiar to me.”

“I’m a cattle buyer. Took a couple herds up the trail for other folks. You may have seen me in some cow town.”

“That damn railroad ain’t even here yet,” Barrow said. “They’ve been five years getting it this far out of the Dakotas. If the stock market crashes again, the tracks will end at Miles City for another decade,” Barrow said, then fanned out his cards in his hand.

Two hours later, Thurman left the card game up or down a few dollars. As the day lengthened, the Saturday crowd changed from ranch family folks in town for supplies to lumberjacks, freighters, and cowboys.

He’d not seen a lawman on the street, but there was little hell-raising. Of course, it wasn’t a cow town with wild drovers fresh off the trail and trying to drink the place dry. Even the ones that looked kinda grizzly sounded almost subdued on arrival. Some firewater might change that further along in the night.

He took Mary back for supper at the café. After the meal, when they stepped out on the boardwalk, he heard shouting in the street. He stopped Mary and stood on his toes in the gathering darkness trying to see if the ruckus posed any danger to her and the boy.

Then he saw a short burly man with the glint of a badge on his vest headed for the trouble across the street. Since the obvious fight was between them and the hotel, Thurman told Mary they’d wait.

Maude came out, drying her hands on her apron. “Can you tell from here what’s happening?” she asked.

Thurman interpreted her glance as that she was looking for the authorities. “The law went by a minute ago,” he said.

The crowd in the street had grown silent, and a strong voice cut the twilight. “I’m taking the two of you in. Any more of you want to sit in jail till Monday morning, just get in a fight.”

It was over. Maude shook her head and started inside. “Railroad gets here, they won’t be locals that kinda behave, it’ll be lots of trouble. I can hardly wait.”

Thurman agreed, and took Mary back to their room. He had another day to wait to meet his son. After fifteen years, that didn’t sound like much more than an eternity. All he’d heard about Herschel he liked, but it wouldn’t be an easy family reunion.