‘I don’t want bloodshed,’ Clem Bowden said and looked at the twelve men he had selected to go and break his fool son out of jail. Damn the boy, he was too headstrong and always bringing trouble down on himself. One day, the old man supposed, he wouldn’t be able to protect him and he’d end up meeting his maker with a noose around his neck.
‘What about the sheriff?’ Steve McCraw asked. A big man from Texas, he had been with the Bowden’s a long time and had worked his way from cowboy to ranch foreman.
‘Take him down without killing him,’ Old man Bowden snapped, firmly.
‘Could be tricky,’ Steve said, running a hand through the stubble on his chin. He had the beginnings of a beard there. ‘Cole Masters may insist on a fight.’
‘He’s one man,’ Clem said. ‘No killing.’ He mounted his horse and tipped his hat down over his brow to keep the sun off. ‘We’ll get Sam out without blood,’ he added.
They set off—the old man leading, with Steve riding by his side while the rest of the men took up their places behind them. They rode with all the discipline of a military procession.
Clem Bowden was fifty-five years old and a widower, his wife had been too delicate for the life out West and had never really adjusted to the hardships of running a ranch. She had been sickly almost constantly. Clem felt with hindsight that it had taken her twenty years to die from the various ailments that had dogged her throughout her life. Maybe she started dying as soon as they had arrived out west, first settling outside Abilene and then moving onto Ellsworth where they had supplied beef to the army, making a small fortune in the process and establishing the name of Bowden as a force to be reckoned with in the cattle business.
He had met her back East—New York. She had been the daughter of a successful lawyer and Clem had been instantly taken with her that first time he saw her walking down County Road, resplendent in her elaborately decorated bonnet and brightly colored dress.
He had never seen a woman that had such an immediate effect upon him. She set his stomach churning and raised the tiny hairs on the back of his neck. That was the stirring of love, he supposed.
He wanted her and Clem Bowden, even then, always got what he wanted.
He had introduced himself and their courtship had been surprisingly brief. They had married exactly one year to the day of that first meeting.
They had gone west with Bowden chasing his dreams of wealth and empire and for a few years things had been good. Clem had been making money rounding up mavericks and selling them on. This gave him a stake to start his own ranch. His smallholding outside Abilene had grown quickly and only a few short years later he had a ranch with over two thousand head of prime beef.
Then came the birth of their son, Samuel and for a blissful couple of years life was perfect.
Clem Bowden was ambitious though and he moved his family to Ellsworth when the cattle trade took a dive in Abilene following an outbreak of Texas fever. They stayed there a few years, again constructing a sizeable ranch that Clem then sold for a fortune to the railroad who wanted to bring their new line through his land. They then moved further west and settled in Squaw, an upcoming cow town, and Clem built a ranch of such size that it was second only to the magnificent spreads owned by the likes of the Chisums’ and Goodnights of the world’.
The empire, though was built on shaky ground and when Mrs. Bowden died from the consumption, Clem had found himself left alone with a twelve year old son they had both over indulged. But Clem threw himself into the ranch and had little time for the boy, who reminded him of his departed wife. He’d hired a nanny for the child and spent very little time with him other than to say good morning and good night. Or to give him gifts to assail his conscious. The boy had too much, his every whim answered, and it had spoiled him.
He could show a nasty streak if he didn’t get his own way.
‘This sheriff’s getting too uppity,’ Steve said after a long silence. ‘I know what you said but I’m thinking we should take this opportunity to put him in his place before it’s too late.’
Clem scowled but was thankful of his foreman for breaking his reverie. It didn’t pay to ponder too much, to chase what ifs and maybes. He reached into his shirt and pulled out his Bull Durham.
‘Oh, we’ll strike the fear of God into him,’ he said and put together a smoke.
~*~
‘I’ll call you if I need you,’ Cole said. ‘I guess you’ll be a handy man to have around in a fight.’
The old man smiled, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. ‘Damn tooting, I am,’ he said.
‘I’ll come get you if I need you,’ Cole repeated, eager to get him away from the line of fire, and gently led the old man outside. He expected Bowden’s men to arrive any time and the last thing he wanted was this old man around when trouble started.
It was too late and as soon as they got outside and stood on the boardwalk, Cole’s heart sank. Jessie Fuller was coming across the street, heading straight towards them.
It never rains but it pours, Cole thought and his mood darkened further.
‘I’ll keep watch out here,’ the old man said, noticing the woman, Cole’s sweetheart, crossing the street. She seemed oblivious to the fact that the hem of her dress was dragging along the dusty ground.
‘You do that,’ Cole said. It didn’t look like he had any choice in the matter in any case. Not only was the old man hanging around but now he had his fiancé to contend with. Facing the Bowden crew would be difficult enough without the extra worry these two provided.
‘Hello Cole,’ Jessie said and stepped up onto the boardwalk. ‘I’d like to speak with you.’
Cole looked at her, frowned. He wanted to tell her to leave, to go home and lock herself in until this was all over but instead he smiled, wryly and said: ‘Of course. Let’s go inside.’
Jessie and the old man exchanged looks by way of greeting and then she followed Cole into the sheriff’s office. The old man sat himself down on the boardwalk, bit of some tobacco from his plug, and waited for any sign of Clem Bowden and his cowboys.
‘Well what have we here?’ Sam Bowden jumped of his bunk and stood by the bars of the cell as soon as he saw them enter. ‘Is this pretty thing another deputy? Old men and young women. I admire your style, Masters.’
‘I’ve heard enough from you,’ Cole said and tossed the contents of a vase of water at the jailed man. The water slapped the prisoner in the face and he cursed as he sprung backwards. He wiped his face on his sleeve and glared long and hard at the sheriff
Jessie looked troubled and Cole, recognizing this, drew the curtain to partition the office from the cells. He went to her and held her tightly, feeling the warmth of her body against his, the softness of her womanhood evident even beneath the layers of clothing she wore.
‘Let him go, Cole,’ she said.
Cole broke the embrace. He looked at her for a moment and then shook his head. ‘You know I can’t do that. He’s got to face the judge. I’ve got to make sure he faces justice.’
‘Is this all worth dying for?’
‘He killed someone, you know that. I’m the sheriff of this town and it’s my duty.’
‘Duty,’ she almost spat the word as if it left a distasteful taste in her mouth. ‘While the rest of the town cower away and let you face the Bowdens alone. That’s a misplaced duty. That’s suicide.’
‘It’s besides the point.’ He went to his desk and picked up his still smoldering pipe and sucked the bit between his teeth.
‘Release him into his father’s custody,’ Jessie half pleaded. ‘He’ll still face the judge.’
‘No,’ Cole said, firmly. ‘He stays here and sees no one. I’ve no doubt his father’ll bring in some hotshot lawyer from back east and get him acquitted in any case.’
‘There you are then.’ She went to the window and peered outside but the street was quiet, too quiet. It seemed the entire township were expecting the arrival of old man Bowden and his cowboys and were hiding away. Cowards. The lot of them; stinking cowards. ‘It’s just not worth it. This town’s just not worth it.’
‘No,’ Cole said. ‘You’re wrong. It’s worth it if this town’s ever to be a safe place to live, to raise a family. And I’m going to make sure of that. Sam Bowden’s gonna answer to the law for his crimes. That’s all there is to it.’
‘You’re a stubborn fool, Cole Masters.’ It was infuriating the way he stuck to his ideals no matter what but, she supposed, that was what made him the man he was. The man she loved. It was no use arguing further, her pleas would fall onto deaf ears. She knew Cole Masters well enough to recognize that.
‘Maybe.’ Cole crossed the room and took a glance through the door. Em was still there, sat on the boardwalk, keeping sentry but the street was quiet. Perhaps Bowden would not come, would let his son take his medicine for a change. But deep down Cole knew that was about as likely as snow in July.
‘You’ve got to go now,’ Cole said, firmly and smiled at her.
She nodded, resigned.
Cole took her arm and led her towards the door. ‘I know what I’m doing. I’ll be fine. You just go home and wait for me.’
For a moment it looked as if she would protest further but then she smiled, warmly and nodded. ‘Be careful.’ She kissed him gently and whispered: ‘I love you.’
They were about to leave when Em came through the door like a loco bull with the sunstroke. His eyes were bulging and spittle flew from his lips as he yelled excitedly: ‘Bowden’s here.’