by Judith Pella
Jonathan did cause some question to linger over the statements regarding the alleged affair between Deborah and Jacob because Laban had to admit he never actually saw Jacob and Deborah involved in anything “compromising.” But the implication of the so-called affair could not be removed from the minds of the listeners.
Since her first conversation with Laban, Carolyn had wanted to talk to her mother about the accusation of an affair with Jacob Stoner. But after the court session, Sam and Jonathan were cloistered with her, and then the sheriff had to take her back to the jail. Carolyn lost her nerve, and Caleb was anxious to return to the ranch. Once again she felt like she had as a little girl—knowing something was wrong, but never wanting to force the issue because down deep she was really afraid to know the truth.
Since it was Thursday, court was recessed until the next week because the judge wanted to spend some time with his family at his home in another part of the state. Carolyn hated to see the trial delayed, but what good would it do to rush things if there was no real defense to present? Time could only work in Deborah’s favor.
52
Time…Griff McCulloch had a great deal of it on his hands lately, and it was driving him crazy. Not to mention what it was doing to poor Yolanda who had to put up with him every day. At least Sky and Longjim could escape a good part of the time because of the ranch work.
As soon as the doctor allowed Griff out of bed, he hobbled to the corral, saddled one of the mounts, and tried to ride. He had broken open the wound in his side and had been forced back to bed for several more days. No one was happy about that; Yolanda had threatened to handcuff him to the bed if he tried such a stunt again. And since that setback, he had been more reasonable about his treatment. Like a good patient, he built up his strength by starting with short walks, gradually increasing daily. Finally, to Yolanda’s great relief, he was up to spending his days puttering around the corral and stable area. He still didn’t ride, but he could groom and feed the stock, muck out stalls, oil saddles—all the menial jobs he had once sneered at. Now he was thankful to have something—anything—to do.
Still, having to stick so close to home galled him. He was glad for the distraction of the stable chores, but there was definitely not enough action and challenge in grooming a horse to satisfy a man like Griff. There was a ranch to run! Even if it was summer and the roundup was over, there were still more interesting things to do out on the range than in the stable.
No one was surprised when Griff saddled up to ride long before the doctor advised. But he had learned from his previous mishap, and he took it easy. Day by day he rode farther and did more, soon resuming some of his duties as foreman.
Griff had moved back to the bunkhouse, and Sky found him there one afternoon upon returning from town.
“Howdy, Sky. Everything go okay in town?” Griff was lying on his bunk taking an enforced rest from the day’s work.
Sky sat on the edge of the opposite bunk, wearing a grim look. “Griff, I got some newspapers while I was in town.” He handed them to Griff. “Ma’s trial began.”
“Yeah, Sam wrote that it was gonna start.”
“Read this paper from Austin,” said Sky. “It doesn’t look good.”
Griff took the paper and read where Sky indicated. He shook his head.
“This here article’s got her tried and convicted all over again,” said Griff. “But it says only the prosecution has presented its case so far. Your ma hasn’t had her chance yet.”
“Do you think they’ve found anything new to make a case with?”
“Sam would have let us know if they had.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” Sky’s lips were taut, and his deep blue eyes looked darker than usual.
Griff noted how Sky had matured since his mother’s departure weeks ago. Running the ranch—doing a man’s job, and doing it well—had given the boy confidence. But where his mother was concerned he was still, in many ways, a little boy. He was only sixteen, even if he looked like a full-grown man; and whether he could admit it or not, he still needed her and was afraid of losing her.
Griff was concerned about Deborah, too. Not a day passed that he didn’t wonder what was going on, and many days he had to talk himself out of riding down there. He didn’t know exactly what he could do for her, but he hated being so helpless and far away. It was only worse now that he was better.
Griff looked up at Sky. “I reckon you got something on your mind, Sky? Maybe it ain’t no coincidence you got these papers.”
“Work has slowed down here at the ranch,” Sky answered. “You’re back on your feet, and—well, I figure I could be spared around here.”
“So you can go to your ma’s trial?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what I could do, but I hate being so far away while all this is going on.”
“That don’t sound unreasonable, Sky.”
“It doesn’t?” For some reason the boy thought he’d get an argument.
“Not at all. In fact, I think I’ll join you.”
“You, Griff? But that’s a long ride.”
“I can handle it.”
Sky looked intently at Griff, not so much with suspicion but with curiosity. “You got something else in mind, don’t you, Griff?”
“I’ll tell you, Sky, I’ve been giving this a lot of thought, and this newspaper just confirms it all. I reckon you’re old enough to know what I been thinking, and also to never say anything to your ma or Sam.”
“I am, Griff. But whatever it is, I want to be part of it.” Sky knew that what Griff had in mind would involve some action, not just sitting around accepting what happened.
“I suppose you’re old enough for that, too. It’s just this, Sky; I swore long ago that I’d never let anything happen to your ma. I’m willing to give the court a chance ‘cause that’s what your ma wants. But if this trial thing goes against her, I ain’t gonna stand by and let them hang her or put her in jail. She don’t deserve it, and it ain’t gonna happen.”
“What would you do about it, Griff?”
“I think you know, Sky. If I have to, I’ll do what I done nineteen years ago.”
“Well, I’m with you, Griff,” Sky said without hesitation. “We ought to leave right away, then, shouldn’t we? There’s no telling when this thing could end.”
“Let’s go in the morning. Slim and Longjim can run the ranch, and maybe hire a couple of extra hands—”
“I already did that while I was in town,” said Sky.
Griff chuckled. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, ain’t you, young fella?”
“I wasn’t gonna take no for an answer.”
“I got a sneaky suspicion Slim and Longjim ain’t gonna take no for an answer either.”
Griff was right about that. After all, Slim and Longjim had been an integral part of Deborah’s escape from the gallows once before, and it did seem only right—as they both pointed out vehemently—that they be included this time. Griff had to emphasize that they might not be needed at all, that the trial might end successfully and they’d have ridden all that way just to celebrate.
“That still don’t sound like a bad idea,” remarked Slim.
“You’re all like family,” Sky said. “It’s only right for you to be there, whether it’s for a celebration or an escape.”
Griff relented, though he didn’t much like not having a senior hand or family member around to run the ranch. But Gip McCarthy was a good, reliable cowboy; he had been with the Wind Rider outfit for two years and was qualified for the job. It would only be for a couple of weeks, and during one of the slowest times of the year.
So at sunup the next morning, followed by a cloud of Texas dust, four riders galloped away from the Wind Rider Ranch. Three of those riders were thinking of the time two decades ago when they had ridden together on a similar mission. But then it had been to make a statement and foil Caleb Stoner; now they were riding to help a dear friend.
53
The next morning af
ter the court had recessed, Carolyn went riding. After the stifling atmosphere of the makeshift courtroom, it felt wonderful to be out in the open air, on the back of Tres Zapatos, with the smell of leather and horseflesh in her nose and the grit of trail dust in her eyes.
When Carolyn returned to the ranch shortly before noon and rode up to the stable, she saw a knot of five or six of the men standing near the corral talking. She could tell by their agitated manner that it was not casual talk. Something had happened.
She dismounted, and Ramón came up and took the reins. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“More Stoner cattle are missing; about a hundred head,” he said. “All from the same herd. Señor Laban is in right now talking to the Patrón. He told the men to arm themselves and get ready to go when he returned.”
“Go where?”
“To the Bonnell place. There’s gonna be trouble, Carolyn.”
“Are they sure Bonnell did it?”
Before Ramón could answer, Matt Gentry strode out of the stable, coming toward them. The men looked over at him, and Carolyn saw immediately there was something strange in how they stared at him. Matt, too, had an odd look on his face—intense, serious, and just a little nervous. He walked up to the group of cowhands, although it was obvious he would have wanted to be anyplace else. But he seemed especially determined.
“What’re you looking at me like that for?” he said to his fellow cowboys. “I ain’t done nothing.”
“’Course you ain’t, Gentry,” a man named Pete said in a sarcastic voice.
Another man, who seemed far more in earnest, then said, “It’s the last thing I woulda suspected, Matt, but the fact is this is the second time a herd you was watching has lost cattle.”
“That don’t mean a thing, Andy,” said Matt.
“We all know what you was before you came here,” Pete said in a rough, accusing tone. “Seems to me you’re just doing what comes naturally.”
“Why you—” Matt took a threatening step toward the man, but Andy quickly stepped between the two antagonists, laying a restraining hand on Gentry’s arm.
“Don’t get yourself in more trouble, Matt,” he said. “We’re gonna give you the benefit of the doubt till we have all the facts.”
“It sure don’t look that way to me,” said Matt hotly. He wrenched his arm from Andy’s grasp and spun around.
He strode past Carolyn without a glance in her direction. She hurried after him. Since that night of the storm, she had come to think of him as a friend. She hoped she could help him now as he had helped her that night. If nothing else, perhaps she could at least be someone for him to talk to.
He was walking fast, and she had to jog a few steps to catch up to him, but when she reached his side, he still did not acknowledge her presence even with a glance. His eyes were trained ahead, his jaw set and taut. They walked in silence for several minutes, Carolyn having to double-step every so often to keep pace with him.
He walked out behind the stable several hundred yards, to where the fence rails enclosed the back pasture. A dozen horses and three or four colts were grazing and romping in the distance. Matt stopped, but only because the fence forced him to.
Still he did not look at Carolyn. “What do you want?” he snapped.
“I don’t know, I just…” Suddenly she felt rather silly. He probably preferred to be alone and considered her presence a nuisance.
“It ain’t true what they’re thinking!” he burst out defensively.
“What exactly are they thinking?”
“You heard.”
“I know it has something to do with the missing cattle, but I also know there must be more to it than that.”
Continuing to fasten his gaze upon the horses in the pasture, he said, “About a month ago I was grazing a small herd out by Stony Creek. I was moving ’em for the roundup, and since we were shorthanded at the time, I was by myself. There were only about seventy-five head, nothing I couldn’t handle alone, even over one night. Except that during the night someone jumped me, knocked me out, and when I came to, the herd was gone. You know, without a trace. A couple fellas, including Laban Stoner, were suspicious; they said I couldn’t have been senseless long enough for the rustlers to get away with the herd. But no one listened much to them—then. But it happened again last night, and even Toliver is listening now.”
“You mean last night someone attacked you and stole cattle?”
“It was different this time. I was riding a line north of here where the Stoners still have open range. I went up there right after the dance—that’s what I was doing when I met you during the storm. I knew I should have ridden back to the ranch and told someone the minute I suspected something. I could have told you that night, but I wanted some hard evidence. Now, all I’ve done is got myself tangled up worse than ever!”
“Well, what happened?”
“I was up there about a week and a half checking the cows for screw worm and doctoring ’em if it was needed, bringing back strays, mending what fence there is up there—well, you know as well as I do what a line rider does. I saw some strangers riding up there—”
“That’s up by the ridge, isn’t it?” interjected Carolyn.
“Yeah, and it wasn’t far from there that I last saw the strangers. That’s why I didn’t want you going up there alone, aside from the fact that it’s a plain dangerous trail. The cabin we were in is two or three miles from there, and some ten from the cabin I was using. Mr. Stoner’s got four line cabins up at the far boundaries of his land, each about ten miles apart. Well, I tried to track the strangers, but they gave me the slip. I took to scouting at night a couple of times to see what I might find. The night before last I was real tuckered out so I decided not to patrol that night—it wasn’t part of my job anyway; it was just something I was doing for curiosity’s sake.
“Sure enough, that morning when I went patrolling, there was cattle missing—a hundred head or more. I spent most of yesterday looking, just in case they’d strayed off, but I knew it had to be more than that. An Apache couldn’t have tracked them cattle.”
“They just disappeared?”
“That’s what I been saying, but no one believes me. They think I’m in cahoots with Bonnell’s outfit. And I can’t prove a thing. Twice cattle under my care have been lost. And whoever’s doing it is being real careful.”
“You think you’re being set up?”
“Of course!” he shot back as if her question meant she didn’t believe him.
“But with no proof, it does look pretty bad for you, Matt.”
“Yeah, and I’m probably gonna lose my job, too, and my reputation with it. I’ll never work again.”
“I’m sorry, Matt.”
“Do you believe me, Carolyn?” His tone indicated that it really mattered to him.
She hesitated a moment too long.
“Why should you?” he retorted. “After all, I admitted that I used to rustle cattle. Why should I even try to live that down?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to believe you—”
“Forget it,” he said sharply. “I was out rustling cattle.”
“Come on, Matt. At least I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. What else can I do?”
“Thanks a lot!” he sneered. “I don’t expect you to believe me; you don’t know me from Adam, anyway. Just take Sean Toliver’s word for it—you know him real well!”
“How dare you!” Carolyn spun around and stalked angrily away.
“Carolyn, I’m sorry,” he called after her.
But she was too furious to listen. She had only wanted to help him, to be a friend. He had repaid her by being rude. Maybe he was a cattle rustler. How should she know? She didn’t know him. If he was innocent, he ought to be able to come up with some proof.
Then she immediately thought of her mother, falsely accused of a crime with no way, it seemed, to prove her innocence. Sometimes the truth was not as it appeared, no matter what others migh
t say. Perhaps she was being unfair to Matt. True, she didn’t know him well, but that night of the storm he had seemed a genuinely good man.
Perhaps she ought to give Matt more of a chance. He was probably telling the truth about why he was out that night of the storm. And he had been honest about his past, about the trouble with the law. The least she could do was listen to him.
She turned back toward the pasture, but Matt was gone.
54
Carolyn returned to the house. As she entered, she met Caleb, Laban, and Sean as they were exiting Caleb’s study. Much to her surprise, Laban and Sean would be joining her and her grandfather for the midday meal. It was the first meal either of them had had in the house since she had been there. Apparently the men had not finished discussing the rustling problem.
At the table, the subject of Matt Gentry came up. Sean was willing to give him another chance, but Laban wanted to fire the man on the spot.
“I don’t think he did it,” Carolyn found herself saying, wishing she had exhibited similar faith within Matt’s hearing.
“What do you know about all this?” asked Caleb, just barely covering his disapproval of her entering into male affairs.
“Just what I’ve heard here and there,” she said. “And I’ve spoken to Matt a couple of times and he seems like a nice, honest fella.”
“Maybe you don’t know he was involved in rustling before he came here,” said Sean, seeming to suddenly change sides. “I already gave him a chance when I hired him on.”
“Without mine, or my father’s, knowledge, I might add,” said Laban acidly. “We ought to fire you along with him.”
“Now, wait a minute!” protested Sean.
But Caleb broke in, his tone cool and even. “What’s done is done. And there is no proof against the man.”
“Since when do you care about proof?” sneered Laban.
“Watch your tongue, boy.” Caleb glared at his son.
