“Thank you for that, Flo,” Johnny said, apologetically. “I know she must have hurt your feelings.”
Flo looked up at him, squeezing his hand. When he looked back, he noticed how pretty she was at that moment. The sun was shining on her smooth skin, making her blue eyes sparkle. The breeze lifted the curls of blond hair that had come loose from her braid.
“Don’t worry about me, Johnny. I can handle her.”
He nodded, emphatically. “Oh yes, Flo. Of that, I have no doubt.”
Chapter 7
It would be several days before Johnny left the ranch again. Flo came to see him once or twice but he was determined to catch up on the work he hadn’t accomplished when he was planting the trees. He thought it might have been wiser to get the three ranch hands his father hired every year to do the planting, but then their work wouldn’t have been done either. Everyone always had something to do.
His ranch hands, Pete, Gary and Clark, were all capable of handling their tasks without his supervision. Typically, Johnny did his own work while they tended to theirs. Pete and Clark worked wonders with the horses and could throw a bale of hay twenty feet without help. They were large and strong; brothers from different mothers, it seemed.
They got along as brothers, too, sometimes arguing but usually getting along well. Gary was the one who worked with Johnny when a pairing was needed.
Three days after the festival that Johnny didn’t return to (despite hearing Marian had looked for him all day), he and Gary were repairing a shed that had been damaged in a late summer lightning storm. The building had been hit three times in various spots, amazing everyone who heard about it.
“You sure you want to do this, boss?” Gary asked, scanning the side of the building that had been burned with his large brown eyes. His brown hair was shaggy and his beard scruffy. But he was a hard worker, and his appearance didn’t change that.
Johnny slid out of his saddle, glancing at Gary curiously. “Do what? Repair the shed?”
Gary turned his eyes to him, nodding. “Yeah, I mean, why would you want to put the shed in the same place, or repair this one? It’s obviously lightning’s favorite spot. You better put stuff in here that isn’t flammable.”
Johnny chuckled. In reality, Gary had a solid point. No one would even approach the place during any future storms, he was sure of that.
“I think putting non-flammable things in this shed is probably a real good idea, Gary,” he conceded in a friendly way, making his employee grin at him, showing a line of crooked brown teeth.
Gary lifted one hand and shifted his cowboy hat back on his head, making it sit awkwardly. “Shucks, thanks,” he mumbled.
“I can’t build a new shed somewhere else,” Johnny continued. “I don’t have enough supplies and my money is going somewhere else. There’s lots of things needed on the ranch. I’ve got to keep a good eye on the budget.”
Gary turned his head and spit out tobacco before replying, “I understand. Okay, well, let’s get to this before some random lightning comes along and knocks us both for a loop.”
Johnny chuckled, watching the man slide out of his saddle and walk his horse to a nearby tree to tie him up.
Johnny left Comanche where he was. The horse wasn’t going to wander far and would come when whistled for. The two men began working on the new half of the shed. He’d brought out all the tools and supplies they would need the day before, in preparation.
The two were quiet for a few minutes, concentrating on what they were doing. Soon, they were both nailing wooden beams up and cutting new ones down to size.
“Can you hold this for me, please?” Gary called out while Johnny was on a ladder surveying the roof to decide exactly how he wanted to fix it. He looked down and then went down each rung to cross over to where Gary was. He grabbed the two by four and held on while Gary sawed at an angle through it.
“Thanks. So, you hear about Bekker?”
Johnny stared at Gary for a moment, trying to recall where he’d heard that name before.
“I guess not,” Gary said, looking up to see Johnny’s confused face. “He’s that shamed Army Captain that came through a few years ago. I don’t know why you’d know about him. I don’t think you ever had any dealings with him. I think your pa did. But not you.”
Johnny shook his head. “No, don’t think I did.”
“I don’t either,” Gary repeated himself. “But yeah, him and his crew came on into town the day after the festival was over.”
“His crew? Does he still lead some men?”
Gary shook his head, coming to the end of the wood and pulling the two pieces away from each other. Johnny lifted his hands from the two by four, his eyes on Gary.
“Nah, he was discharged from the army when he got a bunch of his men dead. There was only two survivors left under his leadership and the army stripped him down. I don’t know a lot of details about it. I overheard it in the saloon. Actually, I overheard them talking, you know, Bekker and his men. He’s got five followers. Don’t know why they’d want to be around a man like that. He’s… angry. All the time. Never smiles unless it’s one of those wicked, evil smiles like he’s gonna be up to no good real soon. I’d watch my back if I ever had to deal with that man.”
“I wonder what my father knows about him,” Johnny said. “You said Pa knew him?”
“I’m pretty sure, yeah.” Gary took the wood to the shed and began to nail it in place. Johnny walked behind him, intending to go to the ladder and examine the roof some more, but stopped to talk to Gary first. He leaned back against the unharmed portion of the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. He probably wouldn’t have been as curious about this Captain Bekker and his men if Gary hadn’t mentioned he knew John Sr. somehow.
“So have they been causing trouble in town? What are they, outlaws?”
Gary shook his head. “They been spending a lot of time in the saloon, I can tell you that. And I ain’t seen them fighting or shooting anybody. They get kinda loud but no louder than Mr. Fitzpatrick. Now there’s a man that can light up a room with his voice. You hear him singing in church?”
Johnny laughed, remembering the loud, explosive tones of Mr. Fitzpatrick’s voice singing a hymn. He really let himself get into the song.
“I do. So they haven’t caused any trouble, then? Maybe they won’t.”
Gary shrugged, hammering in the last nail and jiggling the wood to make sure it didn’t move. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Perfect.” He turned his eyes to his boss. “I hope not. But you never know with men like that. He might see someone he hates and just decide to pull out a gun and shoot him down. Seen peaceful men do things like that before. Don’t know why Bekker would be any different.”
“I might ask my pa about him. See what he can tell me.”
“If ya want,” Gary replied, moving back to the wood to cut off another piece. “But I’d be careful if I were you.”
Johnny frowned. “Why would I be careful just asking my pa a question?”
“Because I heard somethin’ else that might make a difference.” The man picked up a long piece of wood and set it on the table to cut. He looked up and down the wood. “You hold that for me again?”
“We really need a more efficient method,” Johnny mumbled, but did grab the wood and hold on tight. “So what is this information I should know?”
“They were talkin’ about findin’ somebody. I don’t know if it’s your pa they are looking for because they didn’t mention a name. But they said he was wounded. Had an injury, you know. Maybe got sick or something. And they want to find out information about him, where he’s at and stuff. Funny thing was, while I was in there, at least, they didn’t ask anybody for information about anyone else.”
“Maybe they don’t know the name of the man they’re looking for,” Johnny suggested. “Maybe they only have a description.”
Gary shrugged. “I don’t know that either. They didn’t say anything more about him except that he was wounded. In f
act, several men just called him the wounded guy. It was kind of strange.”
Johnny chewed on the inside of his cheek, wondering if his father’s leg was hurt from an injury and he wasn’t actually sick with something.
“You don’t think I should ask my pa if he knows him?”
Gary gave Johnny a direct look, halting his sawing in the middle of the wood. “You’re the boss, boss. You decide on that. That’s not my call at all.”
Johnny nodded. “I know, I was just asking your opinion. Do you think I should mention it to my pa?”
Gary held his gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes to the wood and vigorously sending the blade through it. “That’s up to you. Totally up to you. My opinion don’t matter. If you do, just be careful about the way you say it. If he don’t know him, you got nothing to worry about.”
“And if he does, I do.” Johnny said the words quietly and turned away from Gary when the man cut all the way through the wood. “I’m gonna get a vice from inside the shed. I gotta be doing other things than holding this wood.”
“Sorry, boss,” Gary said. “I shoulda got one myself. Didn’t know if there was one in there. Wasn’t the last time I looked.”
Johnny didn’t reply. He continued into the small building and looked around the dark for the vice. When he found it, he picked it up and carried it out.
They attached the vice to the table and Johnny went back up the ladder to continue his examination of the roof. But now he was distracted by the thought that his father might be in danger somehow.
Had Gary mentioned the men were dangerous to the one they were looking for? They didn’t seem like the friendliest bunch from what Gary had described, especially since the captain had gotten a bunch of his men killed. But maybe it wasn’t his fault. Maybe he’d made a mistake, like everyone did. Did the loss of those men mean Bekker was a terrible, evil man?
Chapter 8
Johnny braced himself at dinner that evening. He’d decided two years ago to hire a cook; a lovely, plump little lady who may or may not have been helping herself to some of the food while she cooked it. She “had to know it tasted good”, she used to say when he caught her sampling the food. He didn’t mind and told her so. But from her round shape, he suspected she “sampled” and still ate an entire meal three times a day as well. He couldn’t imagine putting that much food in his stomach. He would hurt for days.
He’d had Marla cook a special dinner for them that night. He wanted to put his father in a good mood. The spread on the table looked and smelled delicious but Johnny was alone at first, just staring at it getting cold. The moment he decided to fix himself a plate, the dining room door opened and John Sr. came in, relying on his cane to get him to the table.
Johnny jumped up and pulled out his father’s chair at the head of the table. It was a long table, built for at least ten people, with two on each end and three along each side. It had been a gift from his grandparents when his parents had first married. They’d expected the couple to have many children, and lots of guests before the children came along.
Neither one of those things had happened. Johnny remembered that before his mother died, they had indeed had friends over sometimes. But when she became ill, this stopped completely. After she died, Johnny understood why his father abandoned the social scene. He’d loved Johnny’s mother more than anything or anyone in the world.
John Sr. gave his son a grateful look as he sat down in the chair. He plopped down in a way that implied he was relieved to be off his feet. Johnny knew he couldn’t have been far away. His room was on the first floor so it was more convenient for him, and the study and library were the only other places he ever went unless he was outside on the porch.
“How are you doing tonight, Pa?” Johnny asked in a gentle voice as he pushed the chair in slightly and returned to his own. “Feeling okay?”
“This leg.” John Sr. shook his head. “It’s been hurting more lately. I don’t know why.”
Johnny gave his father a sympathetic look. “I wish I could do something for you, Pa. If you ever think of anything I can do to make it easier, please let me know. You know I want you to be happy.”
John Sr. looked down at his empty plate. Johnny wondered what he was thinking. “I’ll make that plate up for you, Pa, you want some potatoes mashed up nice and creamy like you like?”
John Sr. nodded. “I’d love to eat. I was just thinking how it was going to hurt to stand up.”
“I’ve been thinking about this, Pa.” Johnny was a little nervous to bring up the second topic he wanted to discuss with his father. But if he got a positive response on the first question, he would then ask the second. If the first question upset his father, he would wait to bring up Captain Bekker. “Have you ever considered maybe getting a wheelchair?”
He was a little nervous asking. His father had always seemed like such a strong man to him, even with his leg in the shape it was in. He had never asked for specifics about what was wrong and if John Sr. had ever mentioned it to his mother or anyone else, he hadn’t heard about it. It seemed like such a sensitive topic; the only thing that Johnny had been afraid to broach over the years.
John Sr. dropped his eyes to the food his son had put on the plate and picked up his fork to begin eating. “I… I hadn’t thought about it, I’ll be honest with you, son,” he replied. “It’s… a good idea, I guess. I don’t want to rely on it and we’d have to do some modifications around the house but… I think maybe I’d like to give that a try. It… hurts a lot to walk these days.”
Johnny nodded, relieved that his father wasn’t too proud to admit he needed help getting around. “I think that will be less stress on your body. Your whole body. Why, your right arm is doing so much work holding your body up that the muscle is ten times bigger than the one in your left arm.”
It felt good when his father laughed at his joke. The older man even pulled up his arms and compared them, pushing up his sleeves to the top.
“Uh oh,” he laughed. “I see your point. We’d better get one soon before I’m completely lopsided.”
Johnny joined his father in laughter. “So your left leg is really muscular and your right arm is really muscular. The opposite of each other. You really would be lopsided.”
“Twisted like a pretzel, in fact,” his father continued, amusement in his words.
The mention of the pretzel brought back the unpleasantness of the scene in the park with Marian. Johnny pushed the thought from his mind, not wanting to be distracted by that woman when he was trying to eat dinner with his father.
He picked at his food and ate quietly for a few minutes.
“How are you and your sweetheart doing?” his father asked after a long pause of silence during which they both ate.
“My sweetheart?” Johnny looked at his father for a moment before remembering the older man knew about his engagement to Flo. “Flo? She’s fine. Of course. Yes. She’s fine.”
His father looked confused and Johnny didn’t blame him.
“Why did you say Flo like I might have been talking about someone else? You have left your feelings for that Marian girl behind, haven’t you?”
Johnny flushed. His father gave him a disapproving look.
“I don’t want you hurting that girl, Johnny. Flo is a good woman and she deserves a good man like you. You don’t want to go around harboring feelings for another woman if you’re with her. She doesn’t deserve that.”
Johnny nodded. “I know, Pa. I really do. I’m not trying to hurt Flo. I would never want to do that.”
True Love Leaves no Doubts: An Inspirational Historical Romance Book Page 5
