Gus

by C. J. Petit

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Kindle Press, Seattle, 2017

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, Kindle Scout, and Kindle Press are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  July 8, 1884

  Eli sat at the kitchen table with Rachel.

  “Rachel, I don’t know what happened. Betsy just wasn’t there this morning.”

  “Eli, I can ride Charlie to town to get supplies. I’ll just have to ride bareback.”

  “But that would mean you’d have to go alone. I don’t want you to do that.”

  “Do we have a choice, Eli? Charlie can’t pull the wagon by himself. We’re running low on just about everything.”

  Eli sighed. He knew that she was right. The added problem was that they only had $235 left in the bank. They could sell some cattle, but they had no hands.

  “Maybe we should sell, Rachel. We could get six thousand dollars for the ranch and the cattle.”

  “And then what, Eli? We’d have to buy a house, and the amount of cash we’d have remaining wouldn’t last us three years.”

  “We need a miracle, Rachel.”

  ____

  August 5, 1884

  Gus knew it was coming. The year’s cattle sale was completed, and things were winding down. The hands were lining up for their monthly pay. There would be some who would be told it was time to move on. Good job and all that, but there wasn’t enough work to support a full crew. Normally, the newest hires would be the first to go. Gus was far from that. He’d been with the Rocking C for almost six years now.

  He should have been foreman by now, and when the previous foreman had been retired by a less-than-friendly longhorn bull in April, most of the hands had thought he was the natural choice. If it involved cattle, Gus knew more than anyone.

  He should, really. He’d been working with the ornery critters for most of his adult life, starting when he was a skinny know-nothing kid. There was that brief interruption called the War between the States, but since then, he’d been handling cattle.

  But he hadn’t been made foreman. He knew why, too. They all did. Young Bryce Hatfield, a fairly new hand who’d been with the outfit for less than two years, had been cozying up to the less-than-plain daughter of the owner. Normally Arvin Croft was a fair and honest man. The kind of man whom everyone enjoyed working for. But when it came to his only child, things changed. If she asked him to stand on the barn and howl at the moon like a lonesome coyote, then they’d all be serenaded by Arvin that night.

  Helen Croft, the daughter, was a shrew. She rarely smiled and was quick to criticize anything and everything. A lot of men would have overlooked her personality if she was pretty or well built, but Helen was neither. She was plain and flat chested. She was well past the normal marrying age at twenty-five and was looking down the double barrels of a shotgun spinsterhood. When the handsome Bryce Hatfield had begun making eyes at her, she’d set her mind on his saving her from that fate. He’d just whispered in her ear one evening that he’d for sure begin calling on her if he only had a future in the ranching business.

  So, when old Ed Fleming had become too cozy with that bull, Helen had told her papa that she really would appreciate it if Daddy would make Bryce the foreman. When Arvin announced his choice, the few who were unaware of Bryce’s hobby with Helen were more than just a bit surprised.

  Gus could live with not being made foreman, but Bryce Hatfield loved to show that he was the boss. He especially enjoyed lording it over the experienced hands who used to give him the business when he had routinely messed up even simple jobs. And guess who the most experienced hand on the ranch was.

  Bryce had made Gus the target of many of his questionable assignments. If there was a dirty or meaningless job that needed doing, Gus had a good shot at having it handed to him. It had finally come to a head at the end of July.

  Gus and Henry Owens were moving 120 steers out to the north pasture. It was a routine job that Gus could do in his sleep. Everything was fine until one of the lead critters came face-to-face with an unhappy diamondback rattler. Now, normally the cattle didn’t pay too much attention to the snakes because there were so many. But for some reason, this time two of them got spooked. Their bellowing and jumping to avoid the snake was infectious. Then it was chaos. It took Gus and Henry three hours to get them back together and into their new home in the north pasture. Those three hours meant that they were late for chow. Normally there would be enough left for late returners, but when Gus and Henry arrived, Bryce was there, acting sore about something.

  “What took you boys so long? You shoulda been back hours ago.”

  “Rattler spooked the cattle. Had to chase them down,” answered Gus.

  “Well, that ain’t acceptable, Matthews. You boys shoulda handled ’em better.”

  Another annoying thing Bryce did was referring to the men by their last names.

  “How is that not acceptable, Hatfield?”

  “A good hand woulda kept them cattle from going off.”

  “Well, I guess I’m not near the cowhand you are. I’ll remember that the next time I see one of those rare wiggling things.”

  Bryce bristled at his tone and at the snickers in the background.

  Gus stepped down, walked to the chow wagon and grabbed a plate and spoon along with a tin cup for his coffee.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Matthews?”

  Gus was getting more irritated than usual with the pup.

  “Well, I know this might be a strange thing to do with a plate and a spoon in my hand, but I was fixin’ to have some chow.”

  “No, you ain’t gettin’ any chow tonight, Matthews. I had the cookie put away all the food. I ain’t lettin’ him start cookin’ for just you two. You and Owens will just have to go without tonight.”

  Gus looked over at Ed, the cook. “No food, Ed?”

  “Mr. Hatfield’s orders, Gus. Sorry.”

  Gus knew it wasn’t Ed’s fault. He needed the job.

  “Fine. I guess I’ll just mosey up to the main house and ask Arvin about it.”

  Gus had started to walk that way when Bryce committed the cardinal sin of putting a hand on Gus to stop him. Gus grabbed his arm, twisted it and used the leverage to send him flying onto the seat of his pants.

  “Don’t you ever touch me again, Hatfield.”

  Bryce popped back up and thought of having a go at Gus, but he wisely concluded that it wouldn’t be in his best interests.

  “You’re gone, Matthews. Your next pay will be your last.”

  He stomped off to the big house. That’s when Gus knew he’d be moving on.

  After Bryce was gone, Ed took the lid off a big pot and scooped the stew that he had saved for Gus and Henry onto their plates.

  But here it was, payday. Probably his last on the Rocking C. The hands were lining up to draw their pay. Forty and found. Gus didn’t have a lot of expenses; he went and drank with the boys and found some time for the ladies. But somehow, he never seemed to have much money. He�
�d better learn to start saving now.

  Three of the hands had already been told that they would move on. “Good luck, boys.” “Wish we could keep you on, boys.” “Don’t let the corral gate hit you on the butt on the way out, boys.”

  He finally made it to the head of the line. Arvin had this really nervous look on his face. Bryce was standing next to him, smiling like he’d just broke wind and was waiting for everyone else to find out. Might as well have, the skunk. Arvin handed him his pay and started with, “Gus, you’ve been a good—”

  Gus interrupted him. “Arvin, you don’t have to make it sound all sweet and syrupy. I know what’s going on. I don’t hold hard feelings against you. You’ve been a good man to work for, one of the best. I’ll just take my pay and shake your hand. You shouldn’t have to go through this sort of thing.”

  Gus shook Arvin’s hand and took his pay envelope. Arvin was relieved and ashamed at the same time. He knew that Gus was the best hand on the ranch, but his foreman had given him the list of men he wanted cut, and Gus was first on the list. His excuse was that Gus was getting old. That was the truth, too. Gus knew it. He’d be thirty-eight in a few months. Not too many regular hands were that old.

  Gus turned from the line and returned to the bunkhouse. He’d spend the night there and leave in the morning. Ed would give him breakfast. In the bunkhouse, the three others who were leaving were having their hands shook and their backs slapped. The room went quiet when Gus walked in.

  “What’s the matter, boys? Somebody die? It’s payday. You boys should be getting ready to head into town and make some noise.”

  Henry Owens, who surprisingly hadn’t gotten cut, said, “Damn, Gus! That just ain’t right. We all know that Hatfield had it in for you. You oughta speak up to Arvin and tell him what he done.”

  “Henry, I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but Hatfield is just about Arvin’s son-in-law. It wouldn’t have done any good anyway. But there is something that should be worth a few laughs.”

  “What’s that, Gus?”

  “If Hatfield’s almost Arvin’s son-in-law, that means he’s almost Helen’s husband.”

  The boys enjoyed that one. There were general guffaws and hooting. Naturally it led to quite a few ribald comments about Helen’s lack of feminine features, most notably her flat chest.

  After they’d run out of witticisms about Helen and Bryce, Gus said, “Why don’t you boys head out. I’ve got to get my gear together for tomorrow.”

  “Gus, why don’t you come with us? One more good time,” asked Willie, the youngest of those staying on. “Once the girls find out you’re leavin’ they’ll be all outta sorts, especially Maggie and Janie. I don’t know what you do to them whores to make ’em want to line up for ya, but it sure puts us to shame.”

  “Respect, boys. Treat them with respect, and make sure they have a much fun as you do. They may be whores, but they’re still women.”

  “C’mon, Gus. They’re just whores.”

  “No, Willie. They were all somebody’s little girl at one time. They may have been some other man’s wife, and he died or left her alone. You remember that and treat them like women and not just mattresses, and you’ll have them waiting for you to come back, too.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that, Gus. Maybe I’ll try, though. You oughta come along and give Maggie one more chance.”

  “Nah. Gotta start saving my money. Don’t know when I’ll get hired on again.”

  “We’ll buy, Gus.”

  Gus laughed. “You boys better get before I take you up on that and drink and whore you all into the poorhouse.”

  There were a few more mild protests, but an hour later Gus was alone in the bunkhouse. Even the other three who had been let go went to town. He opened up his pay envelope to withdraw his forty dollars and found eighty instead. There was a note from Arvin.

  I really am sorry, Gus. I know what Bryce has been doing. If it weren’t for Helen, I would’ve kicked his ass outta here. You should have been the foreman. I included two months’ pay. You’ve earned it.

  Arvin

  Well, that was mighty nice of Arvin, he thought. He pulled out all his hidden cash and added it to the eighty dollars. He began counting it up. His total savings after working for more than twenty years was $361.45. About a dollar and a half a month. He vowed that he’d never have less money than he did right now. Well, no less than about $200. He knew he’d have expenses until he found another job. But no more drinking and no more ladies. Luckily, he’d never gotten into the tobacco habit. It wasn’t as expensive as whiskey or women, but it was unnecessary.

  He looked over his other possessions. He had his two guns, a ’73 Winchester he had bought used five years ago and the Colt Peacemaker he had bought new the year after. He had two boxes of .44 cartridges, which fit either gun. He had three shirts and two pairs of pants, two union suits and four pairs of socks. Two pairs needed darning. His boots were in good shape and his Stetson was well broken in.

  His biggest possession, both literally and in cost, was his six-year-old mare, Belle. She was a great horse and just about his best friend in the world. He thought she was the prettiest horse he’d ever seen. That’s why he had spent so much of his hard-earned cash when he had seen her in the liveryman’s corral two years ago. She was a deep-copper color with a black tail and mane. She had no other markings at all. He and Belle had a good working relationship. He’d never used Belle for hard work. He used remuda horses for that. He rode Belle when he was going somewhere. Sometimes he just took her out for a ride with no place to go. He almost didn’t have to use the reins when he was riding. He just nudged her with his knees. She’d come when he whistled, too. He rarely even hitched her. She usually stayed within fifty feet if he was outside. Yep, Belle was his greatest treasure.

  Gus was lounging in bed when the boys began drifting in. Some smelled heavily of whiskey, others of cheap perfume, but most smelled of both. Then two showed up late who smelled like they had lost their whiskey and their dinner. They were banned from the bunkhouse.

  They all eventually fell asleep. Most stayed dressed, mainly because they couldn’t find their belt buckles.

  The next morning was Sunday, so they all got to sleep in. Gus was leaving, so he didn’t. He packed his clothes and ammunition in his saddlebags. He put in his toothbrush and tooth powder, his shaving brush and cup, and his razor. He only had one bar of pumice soap left. He threw the saddlebags over his shoulder, grabbed his Winchester, and left the bunkhouse. He walked out to the barn and grabbed his tack and his rope. He lugged them over to the corral and whistled. Belle came trotting over, her copper coat glistening in the morning sun.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” Gus said as he stroked Belle’s nose. He opened the gate, and she trotted out. Gus closed the gate behind her and threw her blanket over her back. He had her saddled and ready to go in five minutes.

  He climbed aboard and headed over to the chuck wagon. Ed had been up for an hour and had breakfast cooking. He waved at Gus.

  Gus stepped down and let Belle’s reins just dangle.

  “Your lady is really handsome, Gus.”

  “She is. Smart, too.”

  “Here, give this to her.” He handed Gus an apple.

  “She’ll be a happy lady,” Gus replied as he cut the apple in two.

  Belle smelled the fruit and stepped over to Gus, who handed her half. It was gone in seconds, and he gave her the second half.

  He turned back to Ed.

  “What do you have this morning, Ed?”

  “The usual. Bacon, eggs, and flapjacks.”

  “Any ready yet?”

  “Help yourself.”

  Gus loaded up one plate with bacon and scrambled eggs and another plate with flapjacks, butter, and molasses. He sat down and then returned to fill his cup with hot coffee. It took him a few minutes to devour that much food, but he figured it would be his last free meal for a while.

  “Thanks, Ed. You’re a good cook and a goo
d man,” Gus said as he shook Ed’s hand.

  “You take care, Gus. You might want to grab that sack over there on your way out. Had too much food this morning.”

  Gus smiled. “I’ll do that, Ed. Thanks.”

  Ed waved as Gus picked up the heavy sack and stepped up on Belle.

  He rode out of the Rocking C. He was on his own again.