Medicine Bundle

by Patrick E. Andrews

  The pair rode through the day, pressing on into the evening. It was getting on toward spring, but the weather was nippy enough that they felt a chill from sitting in the saddle for so long. They dismounted and walked several times to keep their blood circulating. By the time the sun had begun to set, they could see the vapor off their breath. Sinclair pointed to a series of rises and dips in the terrain. “Let’s cozy down out of the wind in one of them places. It’s gonna be hell getting up in the morning.”

  “I’m sleeping in my clothes,” Grant said. “Except my boots. But they’re going under the covers with me to keep warm.”

  Sinclair laughed. “Yeah! Ain’t it hell putting your dogs in ice cold leather on a chilly morning?”

  After setting up the sparse campsite, they built a fire to cook their supper and kept it going to ward off the unpleasant temperatures of the night. Finally, sleepy and talked out, they wrapped up in their blankets and fell asleep

  The wind kicked up a bit during the cloudy, cold night, adding to the chill.

  ~*~

  The dawn proved as cold as the previous day’s dusk. Grant and Sinclair broke camp after a brief breakfast of bread and coffee. It took another two hours of riding under gray overcast skies before they reached their destination. The route took them down a draw and up to the top of a hill where they reined in. Sinclair spat. “Shit!”

  What had once been a crude sod farmhouse had crumbled and sagged. One side of the structure was completely collapsed. They rode up to the place and could see that it had been unoccupied for at least a couple of months. “Waste of time,” Grant commented dryly.

  “Yeah,” Sinclair said. “Well, no sense in hanging around. Jack O’Reilly would find a better place than this to hide out. C’mon, I want you to meet somebody who’s right handy for a lawman to know. It’s on the way to Kensaw.”

  Grant was disappointed when trails turned cold or fugitives managed to give them the slip. But he was fast learning that frontier law enforcement included a good share of frustration and delays. The pair rode toward Kensaw until they reached the place Sinclair wanted to visit. This farm wasn’t much better than the one they had just left, but it was inhabited. Three large pens held numerous hogs. A chicken yard was set right next to an oversized lean-to. “Arky Bob!” Sinclair called out as they rode into the yard.

  “Yeah?”

  Grant saw a toothless, skinny, incredibly dirty individual step into view from behind the crude dwelling. He walked up to them in mud-caked trousers stuffed into a pair of dilapidated boots that were covered with hog and chicken excrement. He wore a tattered shirt without a coat in spite of the chilly weather.

  “Howdy, Arky Bob,” Sinclair said. He dismounted, indicating for Grant to do the same. “I want you to meet Deputy Marshal Hollings. He’s working out of Medicine Bundle with me.”

  “Glad to meet you,” Arky Bob said. “What’re y’all doing out this-a-way?”

  “We’re looking for a feller,” Sinclair said. “Jack O’Reilly.”

  “Ha!” Arky Bob exclaimed. “I thought the son of a bitch was on the dodge when I talked to him.”

  “Is he nearby?” Grant asked eagerly.

  “He come through here a couple of days ago looking for his sister and her man,” Arky Bob said. “They had done gone bust and lit out for somewheres. I told him that and he said where did they go and I said I don’t know and he left.”

  “Did he say where he was headed?” Sinclair asked.

  “No, Marshal, he didn’t say nothing to me about where he was headed,” Arky Bob said. “But he went that-a-way.” He pointed to the east.

  “He’s long gone now,” Sinclair said. He turned to Grant. “Arky Bob is a good friend of mine. He knows just about ever’thing that goes on around Kensaw and tells me about it.”

  “Yes, I do,” Arky Bob said. “I used to live in Kensaw. I had me a cafe there but when the Run came down here and another feller built one, I got me a claim and started this pig farm. I got chickens too.”

  Sinclair asked, “What have you heard of Charlie Ainsley and his pals?”

  “Things ain’t been so convenient for ’em lately.”

  “Grant here is Silsby McCracken’s brother-in-law.”

  “Are y’all gonna arrest Silsby?” Arky Bob asked.

  Grant was disturbed by the question. “Why would we want to do that?”

  “He’s breaking the law, that’s why!” Arky Bob cackled. “Him and Charlie Ainsley and Dennis Nettles and Tommy Chatsworth rides off and always comes back with money. Leastwise they used to. Them boys is having a bad time lately. I think they’re rustlers. Ever’body says so. They might even be robbing banks. They’s lots of talk about ’em. Silsby really needs money now since he got married and is gonna be a pa.”

  Grant was surprised. “He got married?”

  “Sure did,” Arky Bob said. “He got hitched to Sefton Duncan’s youngest daughter Mildred. Sefton is a squaw man that lives yonder.” He pointed vaguely toward the northeast. “Ol’ Sefton was riled something terrible about ’em marrying and ever’thing. Silsby and Mildred lives in the hotel in Kensaw.”

  “Is he there now?” Grant asked.

  “Nope,” Arky Bob said. “Them boys is gone doing something to make money. But I reckon Mildred is waiting there for him like she always does.”

  Grant said to Sinclair, “I’d like to visit this Mildred.”

  “Sure,” Sinclair said. He waved goodbye to Arky Bob. “If you hear anything about Jack O’Reilly, you let me know, Arky Bob. I’d be much obliged to you.”

  “I sure will, Marshal,” he replied. “So long.”

  It was only a short ride into Kensaw from the hog farm. While Nolan Sinclair stopped for a drink at the saloon and to check out the local situation, Grant went directly to the hotel. He dismounted and walked into the lobby. Pete Baker manned the desk while reading an old newspaper. When he noted a Federal officer standing in front of him, he forced a friendly smile. “What can I do for you, Marshal?”

  “I understand there’s a Mrs. Silsby McCracken living here,” Grant said. “I’d like to see her.”

  “Her husband ain’t here.”

  “I’m not asking for her husband.”

  “Oh, sure,” Pete said. “As a matter of fact, I know she’s in her room. It’s the last’un on the left up on the second floor.”

  “Fetch her for me,” Grant ordered. “It isn’t proper for a man to call on a married lady alone in a hotel room.”

  Pete hesitated, but there was something about the marshal that told him not to give him any guff. Once more he grinned. “I’d be right happy to, Marshal.” Pete walked from the counter and up the stairs without comment. A couple of minutes later he returned with a pregnant young girl in tow. The hotel proprietor pointed to Grant. “That gentleman wants to talk to you.”

  Mildred was visibly nervous. “Yes, sir?”

  Grant walked over smiling. “Hello. I was passing through and wanted to visit with you, Mildred. You and I are related.”

  “We are?”

  “We sure are,” Grant said. “I’m your brother-in-law. I’m married to Silsby’s sister Rebecca. My name is Grant Hollings.” He held out his hand.

  Mildred’s uncertainties vanished, and she smiled as she shook with Grant. “I’m so glad to meet you, Mr. Hollings.”

  “You should call me Grant. We’re family.”

  “I’d be proud to.” Mildred said. She indicated a sofa on the other side of the small lobby. “Well, where’s my manners? Let’s sit down.”

  “I’m sorry to have missed Silsby,” Grant said, following her. “Rebecca wanted to let him know that everything was fine with the family.”

  Mildred sat down slowly, leaning against the arm of the sofa for support as she settled on the old sofa. “Silsby and his friends has gone to buy some horses for a man. They won’t be back for near a week.”

  “We didn’t even know Silsby got married,” Grant said. “His mother is going to be real happy
when I tell her. Especially when she finds out she’s going to be a grandma.”

  “Me and Silsby is happy about it too,” Mildred said. “He ain’t told me a lot about his folks. I guess he’s got some hard feelings.”

  “That can be smoothed over real easy,” Grant assured her. “I guess you’ve noticed I’m a lawman.”

  “Yes. I seen your star.”

  “If I can ever help you and Silsby, you just let me know.”

  Mildred smiled again. “That’s most kind of you, Grant.”

  “Well, Mildred, you just ask me anything you want to about the family,” Grant said. “I’ll be real happy to answer all the questions you have. I know they’re going to want to meet you the first chance they get. Your parents-in-law are real nice people.”

  “I’d be most happy to make their acquaintance.”

  “And you’re an aunt,” Grant said. “Rebecca and I have a little boy and a little girl.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake! That means I’m Aunt Mildred, don’t it?”

  Pete Baker turned his attention back to his newspaper as the two sat on the sofa engaged in family talk.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The four riders crossed the expanse of prairie in a tight-knit group. They glanced nervously rearward with Winchesters loosened in their saddle scabbards. Silsby McCracken growled, “We could have got ourselves kilt.”

  Charlie Ainsley gave him an angry glare. “I’m sure glad you told me that, Silsby. I didn’t have no idee a’tall that bullets flying around my head meant some son of a bitch was trying to pump lead into me.”

  “I think we rustled our last,” Dennis Nettles opined.

  Tommy Chatsworth expressed his feelings with more finality. “I’m saying one thing right now this very minute. I ain’t doing no more rustling.”

  “Amen!” said Silsby.

  Their latest foray into the Texas panhandle had led them to a ranch near Perryton. The drovers on that spread proved to be an alert, angry bunch even during predawn hours. Silsby and his friends had no sooner started herding the horses they wanted to steal, than a dozen angry, shooting riders appeared from nowhere. The horse thieves immediately turned tail, riding in a panic toward the east. They were outnumbered three-to-one and each knew what would happen if apprehended: immediate execution by hanging from the nearest tree. If the captors were in a particularly bad mood, the rustlers would be treated to an even crueler form of range justice by being dragged to death behind galloping horses.

  The chase had continued under a sky that began to rapidly cloud over. Within short minutes roaring peals of thunder heralded the arrival of sheets of heavy rain. Whipping gusts of howling wind spun the falling water into a heavy mist that blinded the pursuers. But there had been a couple of close calls when brilliant flashes of lightning broke the darkness to reveal the rustlers’ location. Eventually the gloom settled in with a driving rain to cut visibility to no more than five or ten yards. Charlie took advantage of the dusk-like conditions by leading his companions in an erratic zigzag pattern.

  When the storm swept by, the rustlers were alone on the rolling grass of the prairie. They slowed down, happy to see they had escaped. “I reckon if they’d caught up with us we’d be dancing the fandango under a tree limb right now,” Charlie said.

  “I’d ruther get shot out of my saddle,” Dennis remarked. “I recollect that feller we hung a few summers ago when the grasshoppers was so bad.”

  “Me too,” Tommy said. “Remember how his tongue stuck out and his face turned all black?”

  “And he was shaking like a dawg shitting peach pits,” Dennis added.

  “We was lucky,” Silsby said. “Damn lucky.”

  “Lucky?” Tommy exclaimed. “We ain’t got no money a’tall between the four of us.”

  “We’re alive, you dumb son of a bitch,” Charlie said.

  “Well,” Tommy said thoughtfully, “in that sense, I reckon we are lucky.”

  They were now in the Oklahoma Territory, a good distance from Kensaw as far as horseback riding went. But they were far enough away from the scene of their attempted crime not to have to keep the mounts at a gallop.

  “I’m starting to feel a little bit better,” Dennis said, taking a deep breath.

  “Me too,” Tommy said. “My belly don’t have the twitches no more.”

  Silsby could laugh now that the danger was past. “I’ll tell you the truth, fellers. That scared the shit out of me.”

  “Me too,” Tommy said, chuckling.

  Charlie grinned. “That was something all right.”

  “I think we ought to give it up, boys,” Silsby said.

  “That what I said I was gonna do,” Tommy said. “I don’t give a damn what y’all decide. I ain’t never going through that again in my entire life as long as I live.”

  “Trying to rustle livestock is more dangerous than ever all right,” Silsby said.

  “Folks is getting wise now that they’s more of ’em,” Charlie agreed. “Damn! All the time we spent on this job and we ain’t got a thing to show for it.”

  “Mildred is gonna be upset when I show up broke,” Silsby said. “It was bad enough last time.”

  “Belle ain’t gonna be real happy neither,” Charlie said. “But at least she’ll have some money.”

  “You two is better off than me and Dennis. Y’all can still get a poke,” Tommy complained.

  “Watch your damn mouth!” Silsby snapped.

  “Hey, what’re you getting all riled about?” Tommy asked.

  “Don’t talk about my wife and poking whores all at the same time,” Silsby said.

  “We talk about Belle being a whore and Charlie don’t get mad,” Dennis interjected.

  “Belle is a whore and ever’body knows it,” Silsby said.

  Charlie interceded. “Let’s all calm down here.”

  “Anyhow,” Tommy continued. “If’n I ain’t got no money, I cain’t have no fun with them gals in Kensaw. Neither can Dennis.”

  “We cain’t get drunk neither,” Dennis complained. “The onliest likker we got is what’s in our saddlebags.”

  “And them bottles ain’t full,” Silsby said. “They won’t last long.”

  “Looks like we’ll be pawning things over to Joe Dantry’s store,” Tommy said.

  Silsby pointed off in the distance. “What’s that over yonder?”

  Charlie peered in the direction indicated. “It’s a cabin of sorts. We ought to stop and water the horses.”

  “I hope the folks there don’t want no money for us using their well,” Tommy said.

  “Wait a minute!” Charlie exclaimed. “Let’s rob ’em.”

  “I ain’t robbing no poor folks living out here,” Silsby said.

  “They wouldn’t have much money anyhow,” Tommy pointed out.

  “They might have something we could pawn,” Charlie suggested.

  Silsby was disgusted. “Let’s go water our horses. If they want us to pay, we’ll just tell ’em tough shit.”

  They turned slightly and headed for the cabin. It took only ten minutes to reach the place. They noticed a well on one side of the structure. “Hello the cabin!” Charlie called out.

  A man appeared in the doorway and stepped out. He looked at the visitors, then emitted a loud whoop. “Looky who’s come to see me!”

  “Ben!” they all yelled in unison.

  Ben Shaw, the cook from the Rocking H, laughed in delight. “Cowboys! Look at them cowboys! Hey there, Charlie! Silsby! Dennis and Tommy! What the hell are you fellers doing all the way out here?”

  “First thing we’re doing is looking to water our horses,” Charlie said as he swung from the saddle.

  “Y’all get over there to the well and pump up all you want, Charlie Ainsley,” Ben invited. “Damn! Now ain’t it good to see you boys? Damn! I never expected this in a hunnerd years! Damn!” They went to work pumping up water into a leaky bucket, tending to their horses one at a time. Ben, grinning and laughing, could hardly contai
n himself. “I sure missed all you boys,” the old cook said. “Say! Y’all’re gonna stay and let me rustle up some grub, ain’t you?”

  “You bet!” Silsby said. “How’d you end up on this place?”

  “I work for the farmers in these parts,” Ben said. “I do odd jobs and cook for harvest crews and such. This one feller had this here patch of ground and it wasn’t worth much ’cept for a little ol’ vegetable garden. I still had that hunnerd dollars that Mr. Harknell gimme. I offered it to him and he sold her to me.” The old man shrugged. “Later on I heard he’d been laughing and saying he’d’ve let me have it for fifty.”

  “Godamn farmer,” Charlie said. “They’s all a bunch of stingy son of a bitches.”

  “Anyhow,” Ben continued, “I put up this cabin. I’m getting along fine. I’m poor as hell and prob’ly gonna get poorer. But life ain’t too bad. What’ve you boys been doing? Who’re y’all riding for?”

  “Let’s talk after we finish watering the horses,” Charlie said. “We’ll bring you up to date on our exciting lives.”

  “Sure, boys!” Ben said. “Go on and take care of them critters. Give ’em all they want. You drink some too. Damn! I sure miss cowboys, let me tell you. Damn! These farmers just ain’t the same.”

  “Say, Ben,” Charlie asked. “Is they some place we can get these horses out of sight?”

  Ben turned and pointed to a grove of trees behind the cabin. “That’s the onliest spot around here.” He looked at them. “Is the law after you boys?”

  “Not exactly the law right now,” Charlie said. “But we did manage to rile a few folks.”

  “Well,” Ben said. “Y’all have come to the right feller. I’ll give you a place to hole up. I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to none of my ol’ cowboys.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Charlie said. “We’ll go on and water the horses now.”

  “By God, you do that!” Ben urged. “Say! I got me some perty fresh salt pork. I’ll fry some up with wild onions.”

  “What about biscuits, Ben?” Tommy asked. “I was always partial to your biscuits.”