by C. J. Petit
He tapped the map and stepped back to the desk, but before he even returned to his seat, he realized that none of it mattered. He and Sara had sat on the bench for more than thirty minutes and hadn’t even looked at the passing traffic. To anyone who’d used the main street, a single short glance would have marked them as a couple. The gossip fuse would have been lit and their secret would be about as private as the War Between the States.
Jake laughed as he sat down then leaned back with his hands locked behind his neck and said, “We could have put an announcement on the front page of The Montana Gazette, Sara.”
He indulged in a minute of pleasant Sara thoughts before he leaned forward and picked up the cartridges. He stood, walked to the rifle wall, then returned them to their boxes and left the two heavy wooden miniature crates on the top of the ammunition cabinet before leaving the office and returning to the kitchen.
He’d have plenty of time to pack on Monday and knew Charlie would load him down with more than enough food for three or four days. The ride to Helena would only take three days unless he ran into trouble or his father.
It was another four hours before the summer sun slid beneath the western horizon, so Jake decided that he’d take his first ride on Vulcan to see just how twitchy he might be. He walked into his bedroom and picked up his Winchester before leaving the house. He entered the barn and set his Winchester on the empty shelf beneath the wide, heavy plank that held his tack.
Ten minutes after entering the barn, he walked Vulcan through the door and set him to a medium trot to the northwest. He waved to two of the boys who were heading to get some delayed chow after leaving their bunkhouse. He could tell by the grins on their faces that they had known about the black gelding before he did.
After he rode for another minute, he tapped his heels and the big black accelerated to a canter. Jake let him keep the fast pace for another minute before asking for more speed.
It was almost as if Vulcan had been hoping to show off because as soon as Jake had rapped his flanks again, Emperor’s younger son burst into a mind-numbing gallop. Jake felt the blast of wind rip his Stetson’s brim back into a curve and threatened to rip if from his head, so he dropped his face down. The front of the hat then covered his eyes, so he deferred to Vulcan’s judgement as the big gelding thundered across the ranch’s open ground.
Jake was impressed but had to slow him down after a minute. When Vulcan reduced his speed to a medium trot, Jake’s Stetson popped back into form. He grinned and patted the right side of the horse’s neck as he listened to his breathing. He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t hear Vulcan laboring. He was Mars’ younger brother and each of them shared their father’s power and stamina.
He then turned him slightly to the west. He wanted to visit his boyhood refuge before he left the ranch. The large area of ground that cattle and horses avoided was also his sanctuary from his father’s wrath. For the eighteen years he’d spent on the Elk, no one else had ever bothered to visit the place but Jake was sure that all of the ranch hands knew that he used it to avoid his father. Even if they’d told their boss, his father never seemed to care. His father was probably just as pleased that he was out of the house as Jake was. When you’re a boy, you don’t worry about such things. Whatever the reason, he had always considered it his domain after his first exploratory visit. Maybe it was because none of the ranch hands set foot among the big rocks and pines that so many wild critters called it home.
He soon pulled up near his usual spot and dismounted. He tied off Vulcan on one of the pines and pulled his Winchester free. He cocked the hammer and pointed it to the empty ground to the south. He then watched the gelding as he squeezed the trigger.
The Winchester barked and Vulcan’s head bobbed before he turned to look at Jake, seemingly asking him, “Why did you waste that bullet?”
Jake grinned and said, “Sorry to surprise you, Vulcan. But I had to see just how excited you’d get if a gun was fired nearby.”
He returned the Winchester to its scabbard then headed into his sanctuary. He was wearing his Colt but wasn’t about to shoot any of the untamed animals that called it home. His father may have owned the land, but he considered himself a visitor in their domain. Whenever he enjoyed its solitude, it was rare when he didn’t see more than one of the variety of species that lived among the trees. Usually it was whitetail deer, rabbits, skunks or racoons. Sometimes, the predators would appear looking for all of them except the skunks. Even the most ferocious avoided the black and white menace. He’d seen coyotes, a pack of gray wolves and a female cougar in his haven. He was sure that there were bears in the forest on the northern end, too. None had bothered him, so he assumed that they must have met other, more hostile humans outside of the refuge.
Jake continued walking around the boulders and trees but had to climb over a couple of the lower rocks. He soon reached his favorite spot and began to climb the cluster of boulders. When he reached the highest point, he sat down and draped his legs across the southern side. From here, he had could see the Elk’s buildings about four miles away. When he was eight years old and first climbed the pile of rocks and boulders, he realized that from this spot, he would be able to see if his father was looking for him. He didn’t spend all of his private time on the hard perch but made a point of taking at least one look back before he explored more of his private kingdom.
He slid back down after five minutes then walked deeper into the wild ground. He froze when he saw a flash of movement and identified it as a wolf before it disappeared into the shadows. He knew the wolf wasn’t alone, and although he felt reasonably safe, Jake decided that he couldn’t risk injury. Not now. He had to find his father.
Then he smiled as he turned and said, “And then return to court Sara.”
His walk back to Vulcan was much quicker. He soon emerged from the trees and rocks, untied the black gelding and mounted.
_____
An hour later, he was back in the kitchen having a cup of coffee that he’d carried with him from the chow house. He was pleased with the short break and Vulcan’s performance. He suspected that even now, the young black gelding would be bragging about his display of speed to his older brother. Mars wouldn’t be offended as he was older and wiser. He’d just congratulate him before casually reminding him of who would be wearing the pack saddle.
As he sipped on his bitter, strong coffee, he tried to visualize the road he’d be taking to Fort Shaw. He hadn’t ridden more than ten miles in that direction, so he had never seen the terrain. Regardless of his ignorance, he was sure that it wouldn’t be monotonous. There would be mountains, valleys, large creeks and small rivers as well as plateaus and plains. But he’d study the map of the territory that his father kept in the bottom right-hand drawer of his desk before he left. It had topographical features, so at least he’d know what to expect.
The landscape wasn’t the only thing that was unpredictable. The weather could be overbearingly hot during the summer day and plunge to near freezing at night. He’d pack a bedroll and slicker, but he’d bring his heavy coat along as well. If his search lasted into the autumn months, he’d have to add even more warm clothing. It was one reason why he wanted to find his father as soon as possible.
But now he had a second, and equally important reason. He wanted to spend as much time with Sara as he could. What surprised him was that he hadn’t once thought of her as a substitute for Kay. She had immediately told him that she wasn’t Kay, but it wasn’t necessary. Even when he was visiting her older sister, Jake had seen the obvious differences between them beyond the physical.
When he’d talked to Sara when he was visiting her older sister, it was even difficult to imagine that she and Kay shared the same parents. Now that he had spent just those thirty minutes talking to her about much more personal things, he found the differences between the sisters to be even greater. He just hoped that Sara wouldn’t see herself as her sister’s replacement. He didn’t believe that she would because she
was so confident. But he’d do all he could to ensure that Sara understood that he saw her only as herself.
_____
Jake had shared a hodgepodge supper with Big Tom, Lone Bill Riker and Pack Oliver, the only three men who hadn’t ventured into Fort Benton. He knew that Lone Bill and Pack were impoverished after last Saturday’s visit. Lone Bill had lost most of his at one of Montana Moe’s poker tables, and Pack had no idea how his money had vanished after spending a night with Fleur Lafayette at Madame Bouchard’s cathouse behind The Riverfront Saloon. Big Tom still had most of his pay because he was a churchgoer and wasn’t about to loan any of it to those who wasted their hard-earned pay on sin. If Big Tom wasn’t the largest man on the ranch, one of the sinners might have tried to borrow some of his cache when he wasn’t looking. But he did go into town with the boys after payday. He acted as their bodyguard when they were unable to do anything more difficult than bend their elbows.
The stars were out as Jake entered his bedroom. He hadn’t bothered to light a lamp, so after he stripped in the dark, he pulled back the quilts and slipped beneath the covers. As he stretched out, he wondered who did the laundry now. He couldn’t imagine any of the men even thinking about it. He still had the clean clothes in his dresser, so he’d worry about it when he returned. Maybe he’d hire a cleaning woman who could handle the laundry, too.
As he thought about the dirty laundry, Jake wondered why none of the men had brought any women to the ranch after his father left. He knew that his father had told them if they wanted to get married, they’d have to leave. Only the foreman, who lived in his own house could have a wife. But his father was gone and after a week or so, Jake thought at least some of them would invite a woman to stay. The first foreman, Bob Hollins, had a wife who lived with him in the foreman’s house. She didn’t spend much time helping his mother, but he still remembered Abigail Hollins. When Bob got a better offer that his father refused to match, Bob and his wife left, and Dave Forrest was made foreman. He’d never asked Dave why he didn’t find a wife because he secretly didn’t want a woman to distract his older friend. He figured that Dave thought that his father might object. He wasn’t about to ask him, but suspected that soon, Dave would ask Jake if he could marry.
Jake grinned as he thought how strange that would feel. An almost-twenty-one-year-old giving permission to a forty-year-old man. When it happened, Jake planned to harvest as much fun as possible from Dave’s request. Dave was still a handsome man, and Jake expected he’d have no problem finding a wife. Maybe his new wife and Sara would become friends.
Jake finally laughed at his wandering thoughts and closed his eyes. He’d visit his mother in the morning and try the two powerful rifles after lunch. Maybe he’d ask Dave if he wanted to fire one. He’d be surprised if the foreman turned down the offer. No man that he knew could resist the temptation. Especially as Jake would be the one to clean them after the target practice was over.
He was still in a cheerful mood as he drifted into a peaceful sleep.
CHAPTER 3
Early the next morning, Jake stood in the bathtub and sponged himself down with a sudsy towel then dried himself. He then shaved, dressed and left the house to share another minimal breakfast with the boys who had returned from their night of revelry.
When he entered the common dining building, he wasn’t surprised to find that only the three who had been on the ranch yesterday were enjoying breakfast. He suspected that those who had returned were still snoring in their bunks but had expected to find Dave among those who had recovered already.
Pack grinned as he looked up from his unidentifiable breakfast and said, “Jack, Tex and Colt are all back, but we probably ain’t gonna see ‘em ‘til noon. Dave is sleepin’ it off in his private castle, too.”
Jake smiled as he stepped past Pack to fill the cup that he’d brought with him and as he poured the coffee, he said, “I’m guessing that the rest of the boys will be straggling in during for the rest of the day. Maybe if Charlie gets back soon enough, we’ll have a digestible lunch.”
Pack, Lone Bill and Big Tom nodded as Jake took an empty chair.
Then Lone Bill said, “I reckon that was you who took that single shot late yesterday.”
Jake sipped his coffee before he replied, “I wanted to see how Vulcan would react to nearby gunfire.”
Big Tom asked, “How’d he do? I didn’t try it when I was showin’ him the bit.”
“He was startled but not much. I’ll be trying out the Sharps and the Martini-Henry later. I figure on taking one with me on Tuesday.”
After he mentioned taking one of the two long-range rifles, Jake saw the questioning look on their faces, so he quickly added, “I’m not going to shoot my father with whichever of them I bring along. I just want the advantage if I run into some nasty boys who want Mars and Vulcan. When I find my father, I really want to ask him why he did it, but I doubt if he’ll give me the chance to say a word after he sees me.”
Pack said, “I was just wonderin’, boss. We know that you wouldn’t backshoot anybody, not even your pa.”
Jake nodded then took another sip of coffee before he smiled and said, “Maybe I’ll start my target practice earlier than I planned. It might wake up our sleeping beauties.”
As they laughed, Jake hoped that none of them would ask to watch. It wasn’t that he was concerned that they might want to fire one of the rifles, it was because he wasn’t sure of his accuracy beyond two hundred yards. The army had issued him a Spencer carbine and he’d been proficient at that distance, but the army’s target range was only marked to two hundred yards. In a little while, he’d see how far he could reach with the Sharps and Martini-Henry. But first, he had to visit his mother.
Before anyone could ask to join him, he gulped down the last of his coffee, then stood and carried the empty cup to the large basin and left it inside.
As he walked past the three men, Jake said, “I’m going to the family cemetery for a while.”
Each of them nodded and understood why he’d told them. He wanted his privacy.
Jake left the chow house and began walking to the fenced graveyard. He didn’t feel as guilty as he had when he’d first visited his mother’s gravesite, but it was still there. He wasn’t about to ask her to forgive him, either. He felt that he had earned it.
He removed his hat before he swung the gate open, then closed it after he stepped inside. After he took three long strides to the foot of his mother’s resting place, Jake stopped and stood in silence.
He spent a full minute studying her memorial stone again. His mother had celebrated her fortieth birthday while he was at Fort Buford. He wished that he’d been here to wish her a happy birthday, but he couldn’t turn back time.
He then looked over the top of the stone to the west. His father was somewhere out there and may even be peacefully sleeping. He wasn’t going to promise his mother that he would find justice for her because he was certain that she’d tell him to let his father live his new life. She’d want Jake to marry Sara and fill the house with her grandchildren. But knowing what she would say wouldn’t deter him from leaving. Only Sara could convince him to stay. She only had a few hours on Monday to get him to change his mind, but he knew she wouldn’t even try. She already understood him better than his father.
He finally bowed his head and said a few prayers that his mother had taught him. He could hear her soft, lyrical voice as the words passed through his mind.
When he finished, he smiled and said, “Take care, Mom. And even if you didn’t let me bump into Sara, I’ll give you credit. So, thank you.”
Jake thought he was finished, but when he tried to turn, he felt as if his boots were glued to the ground. He looked down and there was nothing keeping him from moving, so he lifted one foot and then the other.
He looked back to his mother’s grave and said, “I’m still leaving, Mom,” then turned and walked to the gate.
After he left the family cemetery, he had no explanatio
n for his inability to leave when he’d first tried to go. He suspected his mind was acting on behalf of his mother’s wishes, but he wouldn’t dwell on it.
As he walked back to the house, he glanced at Dave’s small house and assumed he was still sleeping. He was smiling when he hopped onto the ranch house’s back porch. He’d awaken Dave and all the other sleepyheads soon.
He walked to the office, removed two of each of the rifles’ cartridges and slid the Sharps .45-100s into his jacket’s left pocket and the tapered Martini-Henry cartridges into his right. He then took down each of the massive rifles from their holding pegs and carried them out of the office.
Once he was outside, he looked once more at the foreman’s house then grinned and stepped off the porch. He walked to the west side of the house and stopped outside of his bedroom window. He leaned the Sharps against the wall then swung the lever to open the Martini-Henry’s breech. He loaded a cartridge, then pulled the lever back which closed the breech and cocked the hammer. He had already selected his target before he left the house and had set the sights on both rifles to five hundred yards.
When he was just a boy, he’d look out his bedroom window and believed that the gnarled, leafless oak five hundred yards away was a goblin coming to get him. When the sun was setting behind it, he swore it was getting closer.
He’d made the mistake of asking his father to chop it down to keep it from getting him while he slept. But his father had just told him to grow up and not be such a sissy. When he told his mother, she took him out to the misshapen, dead tree. She snapped off a branch and tossed it into the wind to show him that the tree wasn’t some evil spirit. But that tree had continued to haunt him for years, and now it was time for revenge.
He aimed at the center of the trunk about three feet from the ground to give him an idea of the fall of the heavy slug. He made mental adjustments for the altitude, but there was no wind, and the temperature was almost perfect. When he squeezed the trigger, the rifle rammed into his shoulder and a large cloud of gunsmoke blew out of the muzzle as the thunderous echo rippled across the ranch. Jake was able to spot the hit even at this range as the trunk was almost black and the bullet had created a lighter, greenish-gray hole when it drilled into the wood. The mark was only a foot off the ground, which he attributed to his lack of skill with the rife.
