For Christmas, Matt had given Kevin two western novels by El Paso native Tom Lea, The Brave Bulls and The Wonderful Country. Set in Old Mexico and the Southwest, the books enthralled Kevin to the point that he constantly pestered Patrick to tell him stories of the olden days. Patrick readily obliged, spinning tales about the family back in the time when cattle roamed free and there was no missile range to keep people out.
One evening on the veranda after supper, Patrick told Kevin about Emma Kerney, the grandmother he’d never known, and read him the story Gene Rhodes had written and published about her. It opened up an emotional door in Patrick that had him talking nonstop to Kevin over the next several days about the Kerney family and the old Double K Ranch days. He took him to the family cemetery plot on the hill above the ranch house and told him about his ancestors, about John Kerney’s partner, Cal Doran, and Kevin’s uncle CJ, killed in combat and buried in France. He talked about the notorious characters and outlaws who’d ridden the range, some of the famous unsolved murders and heinous crimes that had been committed on the basin, the Indian Wars, the Mescalero Apaches he’d known, the Chávez family of Tularosa, and his days as a Rough Rider in Cuba with Teddy Roosevelt. After swearing Kevin to secrecy, he even showed him his pardon from the Yuma Territorial Prison.
“You were in prison under a different name?” Kevin asked, wide-eyed as he read the creased, yellowed document signed by the Arizona governor.
Patrick nodded affirmatively. “Back then, it was called a go-by name. I used it because I didn’t want nobody to know what I’d done. I got sent up for stealing, when I was a young and foolish boy.”
“Does my pa know?”
“He does, although I kept it from him for years, shamed as I was.”
“What does getting a pardon mean?” Kevin asked.
Patrick sighed. “It means I was forgiven for my desperado ways.”
Captivated by the notion that his very own grandfather had once been an outlaw, Kevin went to sleep each night dreaming about roundups, cattle drives, shoot-outs, bandits, and rustlers. He couldn’t imagine a more exciting life and he was proud to be part of a family of such daring men, what with Patrick, CJ, and his pa all being war heroes. In fact, it made him swagger a bit and want to be just like them.
That evening, after an early supper, Patrick told Kevin to saddle up Two-Bits and join him on a horseback ride to the mailbox on the old state road.
“We get our mail in town now, remember?” Mary said as Kevin scooted out the door to call Two-Bits from the near pasture.
“I know that,” Patrick replied, peeved at her insinuation that his memory was faulty. It hadn’t gotten all that bad yet. “I’m feeling a need to have a horse under me, and besides I’d like to see how the cattle are doing on the far west pasture. Since they’re prisoners Al can’t move until the army says so, and Matt’s away teaching a week-long class at the college, best that I take a look for myself.”
“I’ll come along,” Mary suggested.
“And spoil my time with the boy?” Patrick replied. “I still have a few stories left to tell him.”
“Like what stories?” Mary prodded.
“Haven’t decided which ones yet,” Patrick replied with a sly grin as he pushed back from the table.
“Don’t be late getting back and make me come looking for you,” Mary warned with a worried look.
Patrick smiled. “Just because I’m an old man doesn’t mean you have to mollycoddle me.”
“Fair enough,” Mary said reluctantly with a wave of her hand. “I’ll have the canteens filled and snacks for your saddlebags before you go.”
“Thank you kindly, ma’am,” Patrick replied. “We’ll give our ponies a good workout and be home before dark.”
“You’d better be.”
***
They were halfway across the near pasture, loping the ponies along, when Patrick said, “Did I ever tell you of the time I went up single-handed against some cattle thieves right here on the ranch?”
“No, Grandpa,” Kevin said, slowing Two-Bits to a trot. “Did it happen a long time ago?”
“Not too long. It was before your pa went off to fight in the army. We had this old boy named Shorty working for us who seemed okay until he slicked up a story about needing a few days off to see a lady friend in El Paso, all the time conspiring to trail a herd of our cattle down to the state road, where he planned to meet up with his two cronies in on the scheme.”
“What happened?” Kevin asked eagerly.
“He would have gotten away with it, if I hadn’t become suspicious.”
Patrick explained how he’d met Shorty at the cabin just before his departure and noticed he’d let the woodpile get low, and had cleaned out all his gear and clothing for what was supposed to be a few days of relaxation. Figuring it was odd, he followed Shorty when he left the cabin supposedly to catch a train in Engle for El Paso.
“Where the trail meets the state road I found out he had our cows gathered and penned when they should have been upcountry.”
“What did you do? Did you kill him?”
“Didn’t kill him, but should have. After it was over, Shorty skipped out of the state and was never heard from again. Well, anyway, once I got closer I spotted two livestock trucks on the road waiting to haul those critters away. So I snuck up a hill, shot holes with my long gun into the truck engines to disable them, and winged one of the drivers. That caused that lying coward of a cowboy to turn tail and run. I sent the other two shank’s mare down the road, where they got arrested in Alamogordo after stumbling in half-dead of thirst and sunburned to a crisp. Sheriff said it was the first time hereabouts rustlers had tried to steal cattle using trucks. The newspaper even did a story about it.”
“Wow!” Kevin exclaimed. “Can I see where it happened?”
Patrick paused, looked skyward, and shook his head. “Nope, it would get us home too late.”
“Please,” Kevin begged.
Patrick grinned. Having a young button around who seemed genuinely interested in what he knew and what he’d done just tickled him pink. “Well, if you’re man enough to take the scolding you’ll get from your ma, I guess I can take my licks from her too.”
Kevin broke Two-Bits into a lope. “Yippee!”
They entered the far pasture and cut upslope into the mountains, following an old cattle trail that led to an occasional stream, and got to the site of Patrick’s gunfight as the light faded behind the San Andres. They dismounted and Patrick showed Kevin the old stock pen where he’d found the cattle, the ridge where he spotted the trucks idling on the road, and the narrow arroyo he’d taken to cut them off before they could load the critters. Because of the growing darkness, they walked their ponies down the arroyo to the old state road.
“This is where the shooting started.” Patrick pointed to the spot on top of the canyon where he’d held sway over the bandits. The sound of an approaching engine and the glare of headlights coming around the bend cut his story short. “Looks like we’ve got some army boys about to check on us,” he said.
The jeep ground to a stop. “Stay where you are and don’t move,” a voice ordered.
“No need to get bossy,” Patrick retorted. “I’m Patrick Kerney from the 7-Bar-K, and this is my grandson, Kevin.”
“Stop talking and stay put,” 2nd Lt. John Spence snapped, his hand firmly on his holstered handgun.
It was his first rotation to the Rhodes Canyon outpost since arriving at the missile range two weeks ago fresh out of MP school. Leaving the enlisted men behind so that they wouldn’t see how miserable he was about being in the army—in retrospect ROTC had been a big mistake—he’d taken a jeep out for a drive hoping to restore his spirits.
Lt. John Spence had a dilemma; he’d been told about the Kerneys and their ranch, but he’d also been ordered to strictly enforce any trespass on the reservatio
n. “Do you have any ID?” Spence asked.
“Not on me, unless you take into account the brands on our ponies,” Patrick replied, squinting into the bright beams of the headlights.
“That won’t do,” Spence said, making a quick decision to follow the letter of the law. “Walk toward me.”
“What for?” Patrick demanded.
“I’m charging you with trespassing.”
“Are you arresting the ponies too, or can I send them home?”
“They can go.”
Patrick slapped the ponies on their haunches and they trotted off in the direction of the arroyo. He figured it would be a good three hours before they wandered into the near pasture at the ranch house. By then, Mary would be about ready to kill him. “Now what?” he asked.
Lieutenant Spence considered his next move. He’d left the outpost with only his .45 on his hip and carried no handcuffs. He figured the young boy wouldn’t be a problem, but he’d heard that the Kerney men were feisty characters. If he could get them to the outpost peaceably, he’d send them to the Sierra County Jail under MP escort.
“Will you cooperate?” Spence asked.
“I reckon so,” Patrick replied.
“Get in the back of the jeep.”
Patrick nodded and took Kevin’s hand. “Are you doing okay, boy?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Kevin replied quietly.
He led his grandson to the jeep. “I guess we’re both outlaws now, just like in the old days,” he whispered.
Anticipating his first jeep ride and his newly minted status as an outlaw, a smile lit up Kevin’s face.
***
The army was building something at the outpost, but Patrick couldn’t figure out what it was other than a big hole in the ground that was smack-dab in the center of the old road running through Rhodes Canyon. They had even built a short, temporary bypass around the hole in the ground so vehicles could travel around it. Up close, it looked a good thirty feet deep, blasted out of rock. Sometimes when the wind was right, he’d heard the explosions at the ranch.
When they reached the outpost, consisting of a portable barrier across the road, a cook tent, a flimsy barracks to house the soldiers, and an outhouse tucked behind some shrubs, the officer who’d arrested them, a shavetail lieutenant by the looks of him, told an MP sergeant to take Patrick and Kevin to the Sierra County Jail and charge Patrick Kerney with trespass.
“I don’t think you really want to do that, Lieutenant,” the sergeant cautioned, staring at the most sorry-ass excuse of an officer he’d ever had the displeasure to meet in his eight years of active duty, including a year of combat in Korea.
“That’s an order, Sergeant,” Spence said. “Pick a soldier to accompany you.”
The sergeant paused a beat, deciding whether to try one more time to save the lieutenant from a serious butt-chewing by the post provost marshal.
“What are you waiting for?” Lieutenant Spence snapped.
That sealed it. “We’re on our way, Lieutenant.” The sergeant turned on his heel without saluting, motioned to a corporal to accompany him, piled Patrick and Kevin into a jeep, and drove off.
From the front passenger seat, Patrick asked the sergeant why they were going to the hoosegow in town and not the post stockade.
“Because we can’t lock up civilians in military prisons,” the sergeant replied with a glance and a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Patrick asked.
“You’re not going to the hoosegow anyway,” the sergeant replied. “You see, what the lieutenant forgot or didn’t know in the first place, is that I can’t charge you with trespassing because I personally didn’t witness it. Only the lieutenant can do that.”
“You’re gonna let us go?”
The sergeant laughed again and shook his head. “Nope, I’ll let the sheriff decide, so it’s official that we followed the lieutenant’s orders.”
Patrick looked over his shoulder at Kevin sitting in the backseat next to the corporal. “Seems we’re not gonna get to be outlaws after all.” He shook his head sadly. “Too bad; going to jail was about the only good excuse we’d had with your ma to stay out of trouble.”
“Being arrested is almost as good as going to jail,” the corporal suggested.
“Have I been arrested?” Kevin asked.
The corporal nodded. “Yep, you could say so because you’re in our custody.”
“Then I’m an outlaw,” Kevin announced happily.
“That might calm your ma down some,” Patrick offered, tongue-in-cheek.
In the middle of one of the best adventures of his young life, with the wind from the open jeep in his face, a corporal with a pistol sitting next to him like he was some sort of criminal, and the prospect of being questioned by the sheriff, Kevin smiled and said, “I don’t mind if I get in trouble with Ma. It’s worth it.”
***
In T or C at the Sierra County Sherriff’s Office, the MPs and Patrick drank coffee with the deputy on duty while waiting for the sheriff to arrive. At Kevin’s request, the deputy let him hang out in the unlocked empty holding cell, where he studied all the names scratched into the walls and came to the conclusion that the county wasn’t lacking in outlaws. He thought about adding his name to the list but changed his mind because of a sign above the built-in concrete bunk that read: ANYONE CAUGHT DEFACING COUNTY PROPERTY WILL BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULL EXTENT OF THE LAW.
The sheriff arrived and rolled his eyes in disbelief when the MP sergeant told him what happened. After the army boys left, he called the missile range to report the incident and had his deputy drive Patrick and Kevin to their cottage in town. For Kevin, a ride in a patrol car was the perfect ending to the day.
As soon as they were inside, Patrick called Al at the Rocking J and told him about getting arrested and detained by an MP. The news sent Al on horseback over the mountain to tell Mary. Next, Patrick called Matt in Las Cruces, who laughed at hearing the news and talked with Kevin for a spell to make sure he was okay. Before hanging up, he wished Patrick luck getting out of the doghouse with Mary.
By six in the morning, Mary was at the cottage. As soon as the riderless ponies had come home, she’d been out in the truck searching. It had taken Al most of the night to track her down. She was too relieved and too exhausted to give them what-for. Patrick made it all the more difficult for her by fixing her a good, hearty breakfast.
As they were eating, a neighbor came by with the morning newspaper that carried the front-page headline RANCHER AND GRANDSON ON HORSEBACK ILLEGALLY DETAINED BY ARMY.
Patrick read the article, which gave an accurate accounting of the events, and chuckled. “I figure the sheriff must have put a bug in the newspaper editor’s ear.”
Kevin cut the article out of the paper to keep as proof of his budding outlaw credentials.
Mary, her ire now fully focused on the army, was simply relieved nothing terrible had happened to Kevin and Patrick.
***
At White Sands Missile Range headquarters, Maj. Gen. Norbert Schroeder’s morning took a bad turn when his public-affairs officer, Capt. Raymond Peck, laid down a copy of the T or C newspaper article that had been picked up by the wire services.
“Probably every paper in the state will carry it,” Peck said.
Schroeder clenched his jaw. “Has the information been verified?”
“It has, sir. I personally and privately spoke by radio to the lieutenant and the sergeant, and they both confirmed the information. The sergeant also noted the lieutenant was not inclined to accept his advice about the matter.”
Schroeder huffed in disgust. The article painted a sympathetic picture of the Kerneys and characterized the army as stumbling buffoons. It was a PR disaster.
“Who is this officer?”
Peck flipped open a notepad. “Second Lieutenant John Spence, age
twenty-two, an ROTC graduate who arrived here a little over two weeks ago. His academic record is far from sterling and his MP training scores weren’t much better.”
Schroeder held up a hand to stop Peck. “I want him reassigned to the enlisted men’s service club handing out Ping-Pong balls until his active-duty obligation expires. And tell him for me, he will remain a second lieutenant until that blessed day comes.”
“Wouldn’t offering him a general discharge serve just as well?”
Schroeder shook his head. “He doesn’t get off that easy. There’s an important lesson for Lieutenant Spence to learn, and the army is exactly the right place for him to learn it.”
Captain Peck closed his notebook and stepped to the door. “I’ll ask the provost marshal to send someone to relieve Lieutenant Spence and have personnel cut new orders for him ASAP.”
“Very good. Tell Captain Jaworoski at Special Services, with my apologies, that I’m sending him a dud.”
“I’ll fill him in, sir.”
Peck closed the door and Schroeder let out a big sigh as he stared at the white blemish on the wall map of WSMR denoting the continued existence of the 7-Bar-K Ranch. If the Kerneys were already gone, the incident with the dumbbell lieutenant never would have happened. Short of eviction through the courts, which would certainly be another PR mess, what was it going to take to force them out?
25
Nineteen Sixty, a year of growing prosperity, saw Eisenhower deep into his second term as president with the general election looming in November. More people were working at decent-paying jobs, going to college, starting families, and entering the burgeoning middle class than ever before. Folks were optimistic about the future, even with the constant overshadowing threat of the Cold War.
The Last Ranch Page 27
