The Rocking R Ranch

by Tim Washburn

  It was late afternoon when Percy rode into Fort Sill and he was undecided if he wanted to talk to the Indian agent now or wait until tomorrow morning. Bringing his horse to a stop, he spent a moment thinking it through. He wanted the agent to take a more active role in finding Emma and he didn’t know how best to accomplish that goal. Having never met the man, Percy had no idea if he was the type of man who required a boot in his butt to spur him into action or if a subtler approach was needed. With those questions unanswerable without further investigation, Percy decided tomorrow would be better and he spurred his horse into motion.

  Teepees dotted the landscape and several Indians lounged on the front porch of the agency building or in front of the trader’s store. He rode across the large parade ground at the center of the fort and stopped at Sherman House, headquarters for the post commander. After climbing down from his horse, Percy pulled his rifle out of the scabbard to keep it from being stolen, wrapped the reins around the hitching post, and entered. The same desk sat near the door, but a different private was manning it. Percy gave the trooper his name and whom he wanted to see, and the man disappeared into the bowels of the building. He returned a moment later and led Percy back to a large office and Davidson stood, stepped around his desk, and stuck out his hand. “How ya doin’, Percy?”

  Percy shook Davidson’s hand and said, “Been a rough few weeks, John. How are you?”

  “Been a rough few years for us.” Davidson smiled and ushered Percy over to a couple of upholstered chairs arranged around a small table, and Percy sat. Davidson took a seat in the opposite chair and crossed one leg over the other. “What brings you to our lovely little piece of paradise?”

  Percy took a moment to survey the office. Davidson’s diploma from the U.S. Military Academy at West Point was framed and hung on the wall behind the desk. “A couple of things, John. I wanted to see you and then I have to talk to the Indian agent in the morning.”

  “Why do you want to talk to Haworth?”

  “The kidnappin’.”

  “What kidnapping?” Davidson asked.

  “Abby’s oldest, Emma?”

  Davidson uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “Oh hell, Percy. When was this?”

  “About four months ago. I’ve been all over hell and gone and never saw a trace of her. My father reported her kidnappin’ to Haworth the last time he was here. Did he not pass the news on to you?”

  “No, this is the first I’m hearin’ about it.”

  “Why wouldn’t he tell you, John?”

  Davidson spent a moment thinking about it and Percy could see his face redden with anger. Davidson stood and started to pace. “He was probably afraid I’d send out a patrol and stir up trouble. And I would have if I’d known.” Davidson shook his head and muttered, “That son of a bitch.” He paced in silence for a moment then returned to the main topic. “I get along with the Indians fine but not when they pull that crap. Who took her?”

  “Cyrus heard from one of the Kiowa chiefs that it was probably Quanah Parker and his band.”

  “Figures,” Davidson said. “Where did you look?”

  “From here out to the Palo Duro Canyon then all the way north to the Arkansas River. Found out she’d been in the canyon at some point but no idea where they went.”

  “Did you hire any Indian scouts?”

  “No, and that was our biggest mistake.”

  Davidson returned to his chair and sat. “They’re damn near impossible to find even with a full complement of Indian scouts. About half the time we end up stumbling into them by accident. I’m certain they had scouts out and would have seen you comin’ for days. And they can be packed up and gone mighty damn quick.” Davidson lifted the lid of a small box on the table and pulled out two cigars and passed one to Percy.

  Percy bit the end off, stuck it in his mouth, and Davidson lit Percy’s and then his own. Percy took a couple of draws to get the cigar going then pulled it from his mouth. “The last time I was here, you mentioned the army might be starting a new campaign against the Indians.”

  Davidson took a deep draw from his cigar, blew out the smoke, and nodded. “They haven’t got it all lined out yet. Sherman and Sheridan are raring to go but they have to get the folks at the Bureau of Indian Affairs to sign off on it.”

  “When do you think that’ll happen?”

  “Who knows. You can’t get shit done until about a thousand people sign off on it. But I’m guessing it’ll happen come summer.”

  “A fifty-fifty guess?”

  “No, eighty-twenty for a campaign.”

  “Can I go with you to search for the girl?”

  “You goin’ to bring that war wagon of yours?”

  “Of course,” Percy said. “We took it with us when we went last time. Tangled with Indians a couple of times and then they left us alone.”

  Davidson took another draw from his cigar. “Can’t say I blame them. Sure, you can go along, Percy. Hell, the more, the merrier. How old was the girl they took?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “Think she can hang on another few months?”

  “What do you think? You’ve seen what they do to captives.”

  “That’s the hardest question to answer, Percy. But even with a few Indian scouts your odds of finding them are long. So, I don’t know that you have much choice. From some of the preliminary planning I’ve seen, the army intends to put an end to the Indian problem once and for all. The plan is to send out five different army columns and then converge on the Indians’ location. From here I’ll lead my men west, and columns will move south out of Fort Dodge, northwest from Fort Griffin, north from Fort Concho, and east out of Fort Union. We’re going to squeeze them until there’s nowhere else for them to go. That’d probably be your best chance of gettin’ the girl back.”

  “So, you think another trip for me and my crew in the interim would be a fool’s errand?”

  “I do, Percy. You might light a fire under Haworth’s ass in the meantime to see if he can’t work something out. He might be able to put some pressure on the recent parolees, Big Tree and Santana. They’re Kiowas but they might as well be Comanches.”

  “What’s it gonna take to light a fire under Haworth’s ass?”

  “Pressure. Hell, I’d send someone up from the ranch every few days. Doesn’t have to be you. It might be a good idea to send Abigail up. Hard to ignore a distraught mother. Have Isaac bring her up and I’ll put them up in one of the vacant rooms in the officers’ quarters for as long as they want to stay.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Percy said.

  “Or send Cyrus up for a few days. Haworth would be beggin’ every Indian he saw about information on Emma, just to get rid of your father.” Davidson chuckled, then checked the end of his cigar to see how it was burning.

  “Can’t send Cyrus, John. He died while we were out searching for my niece.”

  “Oh hell, Percy. I’m sorry.” Davidson sat and stared at a thin wisp of smoke curling up from his cigar for a few moments then he looked up and said, “Indians didn’t get him, did they?”

  “No. I think his heart gave out on him. And we lost Amos and another one of our hands, Arturo, who was killed by an Indian when he strayed a little too far from the wagon.”

  “Damn, you have had a rough few weeks. What happened to Amos?”

  “Fell and hit his head on the edge of the wagon on a really dark night.”

  “How did your mother and Rachel take the news?”

  “Okay, I guess. My mother is a strong woman.”

  “That she is.” Davidson stood, walked to a table behind his desk, picked up a bottle of brandy and two glasses, and returned to his chair. He pulled the stopper and poured a heavy splash of whiskey into both glasses and set the bottle aside. Davidson raised his glass and said, “To Cyrus and Amos.”

  Percy touched his glass to Davidson’s, and they downed the brandy.

  “Hell, I hate to hear that about Cyrus.”

  “I’m still
trying to get over it. But he lived a long, full life and as hard as it is, we all have to go sometime.”

  “That we do.” Davidson reached over, refilled the glasses, and handed Percy his.

  Percy leaned over and stubbed out his cigar. “Are your wife and the kids coming down for Thanksgiving?”

  “No. It’s just too damn hard to get here. I’m going up to Saint Louis for a spell around Christmas.”

  “Come to the ranch. And you can bring your staff, too.”

  “Maybe,” Davidson said. “I might need to stay around here and have dinner with the troops.”

  “Well, come if you can.”

  “I will. You stayin’ tonight?”

  “Yeah, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure. We’ll have supper in a bit then I’m going to try and scare us up a card game.”

  “Then I need to hide my wallet somewhere before you take all of my money.”

  “Last time we played it was you that cleaned me out. Want to walk over and talk to Haworth? Start applyin’ a little of that pressure I was talkin’ about?”

  “Why not?” Percy said.

  They finished their whiskey, Davidson stubbed out his cigar, and they exited the office.

  CHAPTER 63

  After a few days of mourning the death of her husband, Rachel Ferguson was ready to move on with her life. She felt bad that her children had lost their father, but things hadn’t been good between her and Amos for a long time. Seth took the news hard and Rachel was worried Amos’s death could push him over the edge of whatever precipice he imagined in his mind. She had asked everyone in the family to keep a close eye on him and didn’t know what else she could do other than love him. Jacob and Julia appeared to be coping okay and she didn’t have any real concerns about them going forward.

  Although Rachel was ready to move on, she wasn’t a crass fool who was immune to her family’s expectations. With that in mind, she was carefully plotting her next few moves. Consorting with another man during a husband’s absence might be considered scandalous but doing the same days after learning of that husband’s death would be considered by most people to be horrifyingly wicked. And Rachel, who usually didn’t much care about what people thought, didn’t want herself or her family painted with that brush. So, the word she kept repeating in her mind as she saddled her horse was discretion.

  Leander Hays had taken a room at a boardinghouse in a town—Wichita Falls—that had recently sprouted up west of the ranch. It was only an eight-mile ride and Rachel had traveled it enough over the weeks before news of Amos’s death that she thought she could probably navigate it blindfolded. At that time, she hadn’t cared much about the local gossip about her affair, but now she would have to be extremely careful in how she proceeded. Not having seen Leander since learning of Amos’s death, he remained unaware of the current situation. To remedy that, she needed a way to discretely pass on her plan to meet at a more remote rendezvous—somewhere well removed from the ranch and the town. In preparation for that task, she had written a short note telling Leander to meet her at the small creek north of town and had sealed it inside an envelope with his name on it. Her plan was to slip into the boardinghouse unseen and put the envelope in his mail slot. How to ensure he found it in a timely manner was a problem she hadn’t worked out yet.

  After saddling her horse, she tied on a rolled-up blanket, led the horse out of the barn, and mounted up. The relationship with her mother was still strained so she had been relying on Abby to keep an eye on the kids while she was away, but she didn’t feel comfortable doing that now at such a delicate time. Instead, she had crossed her fingers and asked Seth to keep tabs on his younger siblings while she rode out to check on a favorite stallion that had been looking sickly. Or that was the lie she told.

  Spurring her horse into a walk, she plotted her next step. For her ruse to work, she’d have to ride east a bit and then cut back south before turning west for town and she had to do it without being seen. The task of being a spy was almost too much to manage and, combined with an unseasonably hot day, she could feel a headache coming on. Both she and the horse were lathered up by the time they made the turn for town, and she couldn’t remember a time when it had ever been this hot and humid in November. Rachel glanced up to see the sky littered with white, puffy clouds and knew they could grow into storms if the heat continued into the afternoon.

  When she reached the edge of the small town, she stopped her horse under a shade tree and surveyed the area, all thoughts of the weather now gone. The newly built boardinghouse was situated two blocks from the main street—the owner obviously imagining future town expansion. Wearing her short-brimmed sombrero, she pulled it down to better shield her face and walked the horse forward.

  She rode up to the front door, climbed down from her horse, tied the reins to the hitching post, opened the door, and stepped inside, and ran smack into Leander, who was walking down the hall from his room. He opened his arms to give her a hug and she thrust the note into his hand and turned on her heel without saying a word. She could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks as she exited the building and remounted her horse. So much for best-laid plans, she thought as she rode out of town. She didn’t think anyone saw her, but there was little she could do about it now if they had.

  She reached the rendezvous point a few moments later and parked her horse under a shade tree and climbed down. She had been looking forward to rinsing her face in the creek to cool off, but she discovered it was as dry as a powder house. Someone had been cutting timber recently and she walked over to a fresh tree stump and sat. Having never lost a husband before, she didn’t know if a certain amount of time had to elapse before dating again. If that was the case, what time frame would be acceptable? Two months? Six months? A year? Rachel didn’t think she could skulk around in the woods for a month, much less an entire year. If it had been just her, she would have moved Leander in a week ago. But it wasn’t and she had to consider the impact on her children.

  She saw Leander riding in and stood to greet him.

  He stopped his horse and looked down at her. “What in the hell was that? If we’re done just tell me and I’ll ride out of here right now.”

  Rachel didn’t like his tone. “Do you want it to be over?”

  “No. But you’re actin’ crazy.”

  “For a reason. If you’ll get down, I’ll tell you. Or if you want to ride on, then ride.”

  “Don’t get your dander up,” Leander said as he climbed off his horse. He stood in front of her and said, “I’m listenin’.”

  “Amos is dead.”

  “Who’s Amos?”

  “My husband.”

  “Oh.” He rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin. “Huh. That why you ain’t been to see me?”

  “What do you think?”

  “How long’s he been . . . d . . . gone?”

  “I found out only days ago when my brother returned.”

  Leander took his hat off, hooked it on his saddle horn, and raked his hands through his long, dark hair, delaying. “Well . . . I don’t . . . I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “He was lost to me long ago.”

  “That’s a little harsh, ain’t it?”

  “Maybe, but it’s true. I do hate it for my kids, though.”

  Leander waved the envelope in his hand. “What’s up with this here?”

  “Which part of ‘only days ago’ did you not understand?”

  “Oh. Didn’t think about that. Probably wouldn’t look too good to see a new widow slinking around the boardin’ house.”

  “You think? And I don’t slink.”

  “Poor choice of words on my part.” He tucked the envelope under his saddle and stepped forward until they were about a foot apart. “Can I hug ya?”

  “Please.”

  He wrapped his long arms around her, and they hugged for a long time in silence. Rachel eventually looked up and kissed him on the lips. And that was the only spark they needed. She kept kissin
g him as she pulled him over to her horse, where she fumbled the blanket free. Leander took it from her hands, kissed her some more, then spread it out on the ground. They shucked off their clothes and Rachel pushed him down to the ground and straddled him. She reached down and slid him inside of her and started grinding her hips. She braced her hands on his powerful chest and stared into his eyes as she rocked her hips back and forth. She paused, leaned down, and they kissed for a few moments before she started grinding again. She found her rhythm and it wasn’t long before both were spent. Rachel slid off him and lay down beside him, putting her head on his chest.

  Leander ran his fingers through her hair. “What’s next?”

  “I don’t think I’m done yet.”

  Leander chuckled. “Okay. Me, neither. After today, then?”

  Rachel tilted her head up so she could look at him. “How much do you miss your place down on the Brazos?”

  Leander thought about it for a moment and said, “Not much. But it’s home, I reckon.”

  “How come you and your wife didn’t have any children?”

  “Well, it wasn’t for a lack of tryin’. She lost a couple early on and lost heart, I guess.”

  “Do you like children?”

  “Well, sure, I suppose. Ain’t never been around them much.”

  “Think you’d like being a father?”

  “Hadn’t thought about that in a while, but I reckon I’d like it just fine. What’s up with all these questions about kids?”

  “Trying to decide if I want to keep you around.”

  “Well, hell, I didn’t know I was bein’ tested. Did I pass?”

  Rachel pinched one of his chest hairs between her fingers and plucked it out.

  “I guess that was a no?”

  She rubbed the spot where she’d plucked the hair with her finger. “Still haven’t decided.”