“Oh, Silsby!” Mildred exclaimed. “That would be wonderful! Would it be a big’un?”
“It’s just like I tole you afore; I ain’t thinking small. I aim to be what they call a cattle baron. You know what I mean? Rich and powerful with a heap of cowboys working for me and so dang many cattle that it’d take thousands and thousands of acres of prime grassland to keep the critters fed.”
“You’re wonderful, Silsby!” Mildred said, leaning her head on his shoulder. She looked at her stomach that had just started to swell a bit. “How many kids are we gonna have, Silsby?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Six or seven maybe. All boys so’s they can help their pa run his ranch.”
“How about a girl or two to help their ma in the house?”
“You’ll have maids for that,” Silsby said. “They’ll do all the carrying and toting and work. You can hire some Mezkin girls. I hear that’s what they do down in Texas. All you got to do is be a grand lady and boss ’em around.”
Mildred laughed. “Say! You do think big, don’t you?”
After crossing into the Oklahoma Territory, they had to leave the road for the shortcut toward Kensaw. The ex-cowboys were familiar the lay of the land, avoiding gullies and rough stretches. They had to ford one creek, but knew where it was shallow with a firm bottom. After two hours they arrived at the local roads and followed one toward Kensaw, passing farms on the way.
“Do we really have to go see your pa and ma?” Silsby asked.
“Yes, Silsby!”
“We ain’t gonna see my folks,” he pointed out.
“That’s a choice you made,” Mildred said. “And I think you’re wrong.”
“I got good reasons.”
“Maybe so,” Mildred allowed. “But I want to tell my own folks that we’re married.”
“Why don’t you write ’em a letter?”
“Silsby!”
“All right,” he relented. “But your pa is gonna be mad as hell about it. Especial when he finds out about the baby that’s coming.”
“Maybe he’ll be right happy about being a grandpa.”
Silsby snorted. “I’ll just bet!”
“They ain’t nothing he can do,” Mildred said. “Now we’re married and that cain’t be changed. Don’t you remember what Mr. Walker told us after he said we was man and wife?” She tightened her grip on his arm. “Man and wife! That’s what we are, Silsby darling.”
When they reached the crossroads, Charlie turned and rode back to them. He had become involved with one of the whores that worked in the back of Pete Baker’s hotel. They played a game like they were in love with each other. The young woman appreciated the illusion of having a romance, while Charlie’s enthusiasm in the relationship came from her not charging him for her favors. She even gave him money during the times he was broke.
“Me and the boys is going on to Kensaw now,” Charlie said.
“I’ll bet you’re real anxious to see Belle, huh?” Silsby asked with a wink.
“It occurred to me to say howdy to her,” Charlie replied.
“I’m looking forward to meeting her,” Mildred said.
Charlie’s eyes widened. “Did Silsby tell you about Belle?”
Silsby quickly interjected, “I told her you had a sweetheart now.”
“All right,” Charlie said. “I reckon you’re still going out to the Duncan place, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s something we got to do,” Mildred explained.
“Good luck,” Charlie said. “See y’all later.”
Charlie, Dennis, and Tommy cantered off, leaving the young married couple sitting in the buckboard. Silsby gave Mildred one more imploring look. She gazed back with a confident smile. He turned toward her father’s farm.
They traveled in silence, each lost in thought. Mildred concentrated on future plans and daydreamed about the ranch house they would have in Texas. Silsby experienced a growing feeling of dread as they drew closer to the Duncan farm. He was glad he was armed since there was a good chance that Sefton Duncan might decide to shoot him.
When they reached the track leading off the road toward the farm, Silsby considered turning around, and brought the rig to a stop. Mildred nudged him. “Let’s go on now, darling.” Silsby sighed and worked the reins to allow the horse to pick its way along until they rolled into the yard. Deciding that boldness was the best approach, he drove straight to the house before reining in.
Mildred’s sister Stella stepped out of the door. She glared at her younger sibling in angry surprise. “So just where’ve you been for the past two days?”
Mildred stepped down from the buckboard. “Stella, we’re married!”
Stella’s mouth opened wide. “What did you say?”
“Me and Silsby got married in Clarkville this morning,” she said. She pulled the marriage certificate from her purse. “See? I’m Mrs. Silsby McCracken now.”
An angry shout from the barn caused them to look that way. Sefton Duncan strode from the door toward them, waving a pitchfork in the air. “Godamn you, McCracken! I told you to stay the hell away from my daughter and off’n my property!”
Mildred, smiling but frightened, walked up to him. “Me and Silsby is married, Pa. We done it this morning up to Clarkville.”
Duncan yelled, “You cain’t be married! You need my permission and you sure as hell ain’t gonna get it.” He turned his furious glare to Silsby. “Get your godamned ass off my property, you son of a bitch.” He gestured with his pitchfork then violently threw it to the ground, and walked toward the house. “I’m gonna get my shotgun. If you ain’t on your way when I come out, I’ll shoot you dead. And the law will back me up on it too.”
Silsby’s temper flared. He leaped from the buggy and grabbed Duncan by the arm. “You shut up and listen!”
“Get your godamned hands off’n me, McCracken!” Duncan bellowed. He tugged angrily against Silsby’s strong grip.
“We’re married, Pa,” Mildred said again.
“You ain’t!” Duncan yelled, pulling himself free. “I can get that fixed up real quick. You wait and see.”
Stella said, “Get in the house, Mildred!”
Mildred took a deep breath and hollered as loud as she could. “I’m gonna have a baby!”
Duncan and Stella suddenly became quiet and looked at her. It was the daughter who recovered first. “My Lord, Mildred!”
“Y’all been sneaking around!” Duncan hissed. “Sneaking around behind my back!”
“I’m gonna have a baby,” Mildred said calmer this time. “That’s how come we could get married. A doctor wrote a note and the man read it and he married us this morning. We’re married and I’m gonna have a baby. This is my husband. I love him and I’m gonna live with him. The justice of the peace in Clarkville said nobody could do nothing about our marriage.”
Duncan sputtered and spat. “That does it then. Both of you! Get the hell out of here! I don’t want to see neither one of you again!” He shook his fist at Mildred. “Go on and live with that no-good saddle bum. See what kind of life you’re gonna have with him.”
“Pa!” Mildred wailed. “I want to see Ma!”
“You ain’t gonna see her, so just forget about that!” Duncan said. “You ain’t never gonna see her again in your whole life!”
“Shit!” Silsby said. He took Mildred by the arm, helping her back up on the buckboard. He joined her, then turned around and drove out of the farmyard. When they reached the road, he turned toward Kensaw. “I’ll settle us into a hotel room. Tomorry me and the boys is going on that job.”
Mildred began to weep, and she pulled a hankie out of her purse. “I truly thought Pa would be accepting of us.”
Silsby reached over and patted her arm. “Don’t fret, darling,” he begged her. “Ever’thing is gonna be all right by us.”
The buckboard rolled on down the road toward Kensaw.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Grant Hollings swished the brush aro
und in the cup as he prepared to lather up for his morning shave. He spread the soap on his face, glancing in the mirror to watch Rebecca making the bed behind him.
His wife had continually surprised and amazed him throughout the whole of their marriage. These observations began with her transformation at Fort Gibson and remained strong during the months working the farm. She was in a state of ongoing, unceasing growth in her maturity, perception and intellect. She was now an avid reader, though she preferred the novels of Mark Twain, Louisa May Alcott, and Emily Bronte to the academic tomes that Grant kept in his collection of books.
Rebecca’s appearance reflected this physical and emotional metamorphose. Her eyes seemed brighter and more thoughtful, and her appearance had gone from farm girl pretty to an aristocratic beauty. She had also developed an innate inner wisdom and insight similar to her mother’s.
Grant put the brush down and picked up the straight razor. As he made the first swipe through the lather on his face, he asked, “Do you ever look at those books on grammar and etiquette anymore?”
“Not too much. Now and then I scan through them just to refresh my memory.”
“I know you like the novels better,” he said, continuing to shave.
“Yes. But I’m going to review all I learned at Fort Gibson. That experience in the Army with those pretentious old biddies opened this farm girl’s eyes. Anyway, who knows how far you’re going to go here in the Territory? What if I find myself the wife of Senator Hollings or Governor Hollings? The day might come when I’ll have to entertain some —” She switched over to an exaggerated country accent. “— mighty high-falutin’ folks.”
Grant laughed. “You’re a caterpillar, aren’t you?”
“Grant! Caterpillars are ugly!”
“I should have said you’re a freshly-emerged butterfly.”
“That’s better!”
“And you just keep getting more beautiful.”
“That’s even more better,” Rebecca said with a pleased laugh. “Or should I say that it’s best?”
“You’ll have to check the grammar book on that one.”
As Grant shaved, he remembered a particular evening after the harvest when he had been in a bad mood. He had reached a point where his amount of drinking began to worry even him. He had made too many trips to the saloon in town and spent too many evenings sitting around the table at home getting quietly intoxicated. After some time passed, he was motivated enough to quit drinking, and managed to give up liquor completely.
~*~
One evening, before Thanksgiving, Rebecca had gotten the children to bed, and she came back to sit in the kitchen with him. Grant was at the table, idly drumming his fingers as he thought about how relaxing it would be to put a couple of hefty swallows of bourbon down his gullet. He fought the urge, his disposition getting worse with the increasing desire for a drink. He’d consumed three quick cups of coffee, and that only sharpened the edge of his nervousness. After several moments Rebecca asked, “Would you like to get out of farming, Grant?”
He had been taken aback, and it took a moment for him to recover. “No. What else would I do?”
“Would you like to go back in the Army?”
He shook his head. “I’ve already explained that. I’d never get back in as an officer now. I certainly don’t want you to be taking in laundry on soap suds row to help meet expenses my sergeant’s pay couldn’t cover.” He sighed. “We’re pretty well off, so no complaints from me.
“Grant, you’re not happy with your work. That makes me unhappy too.”
“What makes you think I’m not happy as a farmer?”
“You’ve said so quite plainly a couple of times when you were drunk.”
Grant groaned. “Oh, God!”
“I think we should do more than just talk about it,” Rebecca said. “Something must be done. Unhappiness gnaws at a person whether they realize it or not. In the end, a terrible price is paid. I think the situation with Silsby is a good example.”
Grant got up and walked around the table to kiss his wife on the cheek. “Rebecca, I’m very happy. I love you and the children.”
“I know you love us, Grant,” Rebecca said. “That’s the one real solid thing in my life.”
“I’m glad you realize that,” he said, going back to his chair.
“We have money set aside now. The farm is showing a nice profit and that makes it a good investment.”
“Yeah,” Grant agreed. “We have more independence than most people.”
“Haven’t you thought of anything else you would care to do?”
“Yes,” Grant said. He shook his head. “Ah! But it’s insane. I’m better off working here.”
“You do have something in mind, don’t you?”
“Nolan Sinclair is searching around for a deputy marshal.”
“Would you like that job, Grant?”
“It’s the sort of thing that appeals to me,” Grant admitted. “What I liked about the Army was having authority and responsibility. Official authority and responsibility.”
“You should talk to Marshal Sinclair then.”
“What’ll we do with the farm?”
“I thought perhaps we could have Ingvar and Anna Lingren take over the operation and pay a percentage of the crop to us.”
“You’ve really been thinking about this, haven’t you?”
“Almost constantly.”
They discussed the idea long into the night, reaching a decision between midnight and dawn. Instead of working the farm as usual the next day, Grant went into Medicine Bundle to the district attorney’s office. He spoke directly to Nolan Sinclair, surprising the marshal when he applied for the job as his deputy. Sinclair led him across the room to Lorenzo Markham’s office. After an hour of intense conversation, Grant was sworn in and officially became a United States deputy marshal.
All this led to the purchase of the home in Medicine Bundle, and the agreement with the Lindgrins. In the first two months on the job, Grant found that the position of a Federal peace officer gave him a feeling of fulfillment that would have been impossible as a farmer. All the monotony in his life disappeared as he was kept busy hunting fugitives, serving warrants, transporting prisoners, and giving testimony in a couple of cases at the Federal court in Wichita.
He and Nolan Sinclair had one exciting incident when they became involved in a knockdown brawl with a trio of bank robbers they had run down near Cantonment to the southwest. Both men experienced minor bruises, but got the outlaws into custody. Grant found the experience most satisfying, particularly because of the moments of nervous anticipation and outright fear. It was the same uplifting emotional surges he felt when fighting Apaches with the Third Cavalry in Arizona.
~*~
Now, finishing his shaving in the bedroom, Grant wiped his face clean. “It looks like Nolan and I will be out of town for a couple of days.”
“Where are you going?”
He buttoned his collar and tied the cravat around it. “To a farm on the other side of Kensaw.” He put on the vest bearing the star of a deputy U.S. marshal, then buckled his gun belt around his waist. “I was thinking of seeing if I could find Silsby while I’m over there. It wouldn’t hurt to have a chat with him. Either that or see if I can at least get some news about the boy.”
“Oh, Grant!” Rebecca cried. “That would be wonderful!”
“I think maybe we should start some serious thinking on reconciliation between him and Luther.” He walked over and kissed her. “I’ll see you tomorrow or the next day.”
“You be careful!”
~*~
When Grant arrived at the office, both Nolan Sinclair and Lorenzo Markham were waiting for him. The three men settled around Markham’s desk to discuss the upcoming job. After Miss Mullins provided each with a mug of coffee, they went to work. Grant asked, “Who is this fellow we’re after?”
“Jack O’Reilly,” Markham answered. “Densberg has prepared all the paperwork necessary for
serving a warrant on the gentleman in question. He is not one of the Territory’s leading citizens.”
“What is he wanted for?” Grant asked.
Nolan Sinclair took a loud slurp from his mug. “Our friend O’Reilly got hisself wrapped up in a train robbery and murder between McAlester and Atoka. We don’t know who the others in the gang was, but he’s identified for sure.”
“How much money did they get?” Grant asked.
Markham shrugged. “We don’t know for certain yet. The railroad is still going over their books. But it was at least five thousand dollars.”
Sinclair said, “O’Reilly is supposed to be at his sister’s farm south and west of Kensaw. It’s one of them dinky little places where the folks barely manage to feed theirselves. O’Reilly prob’ly brought his share of the loot with him, so I imagine his kinfolk was glad to see him.”
“Exactly,” Markham commented. “That means they’re going to hide him.”
“No doubt about that,” Sinclair said. He looked at Grant. “Are you ready to go?”
“I’ve taken your advice and kept packed saddlebags under my desk,” Grant said. “All I have to do is grab a Winchester out of the rack, and it’s off to the races.”
~*~
Grant and Sinclair, heavily armed with weaponry and legal documents, traveled south across the prairie. Grant stood in his stirrups and stretched out the kinks in his back. After settling back down, he glanced over at his companion. “I’d like to stop in Kensaw and see if anybody there has any news about my brother-in-law.”
“That’s a good idee,” Sinclair said. “I been curious about that boy myself. Not only him, but them pals of his.”
Sinclair had already appraised Grant of Silsby McCracken’s reputation in the Kensaw area. Grant kept it concealed from Rebecca, but knew he was going to have to work hard on getting the young man back into the family before something bad happened.
“You’ll have time to look the kid up on our way back,” Sinclair said. “We’ll be skirting Kensaw so’s we can approach Mr. Jack O’Reilly in a round-about way. This is gonna be a long ride.”
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