The O'Malleys of Texas

by Dusty Richards

  Harp thanked him. They were out there. Indians could be well hidden and then burst out and strike. His experience with them was that they were as elusive as anything.

  He had some blasting sticks made up that could, at close range, really help. It depended on the arm of the one tossing them. Long could toss them the farthest of anyone he knew. “Sit down,” Ira said to him sharply. “This defense will work. I know you’ve got all of this warfare on your mind, but these boys will fight. Ease off. You’re the best damn leader I ever been with in war or on the trail. We will mow them down.”

  Harp dropped his head. “I hate Kate’s here.”

  “She don’t. We all get into corners. We will fight our way out of it. There isn’t one more thing you can do but face them.”

  “Thanks.” He accepted the tin cup of hot coffee. “I guess when you’ve done it all, then you sit back and pray that it works.”

  Busy making dough on his table, Ira nodded. “I was in some bad situations in the war. Never figured I’d live to see the next sunrise. But things worked out. I didn’t have half the leadership of you two brothers. They should have gave you a parade when we slipped by Austin coming home. Hell, you took longhorn cattle to the heart of Yankee land at a profit. And some handful of nasty Comanche ain’t going to turn us aside are they? Hell, no.”

  Harp finished his coffee and set the cup down. “Thanks for the talk.”

  Darkness began and cooler weather came with the curtain of night. He found Kate seated under a blanket beneath the wagon with a small candlelight to eat by. His plate loaded, he set his hat aside and settled into a place with her close by.

  “These men that work for you are special, aren’t they?”

  He nodded. “They all grew up going north. Some even fought in the war, so they were no longer kids. River crossings, the challenges we met, they had a part in getting us through.”

  “You ever regret eating peaches with me?”

  “You know better than that.”

  “Well, things happen that a person thinks are good and they can turn bad. I have no regrets. You exceeded my expectations. In fact it took me a while to realize how big a man I’d joined up with.”

  “You suit me fine.”

  “I know you were concerned driving me up to meet your family that day. I even feared they’d stone me.”

  “Stone you?”

  She nodded.

  “My mother raised us boys to do the right things. I knew some things about her past—Long’s and my story. As boys she’d feed us some homemade soap for using bad words handling work mules, and she pointed out people who were not living good lives. I didn’t know how she would take our partnership.”

  “She opened her arms so wide I could not believe it. There are classes of people in this country. I had lived on the lower shelf and she was three or four higher. It made me proud. But you are—I can’t believe you haven’t left me—you are, well, a damn neat guy.”

  “Just another cowboy.”

  She laughed. “No. No. Harper O’Malley, you are much more than that.”

  He put down his plate and kissed her. “We’re an outfit together.”

  Later with her in a bedroll back under the wagon and behind some upright saddles as shields from stray bullets, he told her to sleep. She had a loaded Paterson pistol and said she could use it. He kissed and left her.

  Long and Chaw were out scouting in the night. There would be no moon until after midnight and it would be near full when it did come up. The big moon at that time of year, in Harp’s experience, led the Comanche to come east to raid.

  His sentries were listening for any sound in the night to tip them off. Others napped, expecting the guard to be switched and up all night. The way they were set up, the Comanche could not attack coming from the east. A steep hill and the large corral was where they’d have to maneuver to have the sun in the camp’s face. Two hands guarded the corral, but it was not a Comanche way to charge in and strike. They would sneak.

  Harp slept some and they awoke him when the moon began to rise. Long had not come back. Getting to his feet he wondered where his partner was. No doubt scouting the enemy. Still, filled with concern, he hoped his brother was not taking any chances.

  Running low, two cowboy hats came across the open area carrying rifles in their right hands. Harp met them.

  “You find them?” he hissed.

  Long nodded. He caught his breath when his brother stopped Chaw, too. “They are out there.”

  “How many?”

  “Maybe two dozen.”

  “They’ll be here at dawn?”

  Long nodded. “I think so. They were waking so we started back here.”

  “Get some food. I will pass your information on to the others.”

  The news clutched his heart for a second. He hoped the red men had gone back west, but an isolated camp like theirs with horses and guns that could be taken would be a coup. The Comanche were like all armies, they needed blood to keep them on edge, and a success would reconfirm they could attack and win over the white eyes.

  He told the others at the various stations what to expect. Then he dropped back to his scouts and asked if they were that close.

  “Yes. I could have hurled blasting sticks among their horses and killed half of them.”

  “No way to stamp them and get away?”

  “No, we were too vulnerable.”

  “I was getting concerned.”

  “They’ll be here—and soon.”

  “We are ready. We have some sticks. Ira can fuse them up.”

  Standing nearby, Ira said, “You’ll have them.”

  “Whew, it’s been a night. Thanks. We’ll stop them.”

  Harp left and made sure his men were ready. There were sounds in the night. Some flushed birds out there upset by the Comanche passing; hammers being clicked back followed the birds’ flight.

  Then the shill screams of the attackers filled the night. The rumble of many horse hooves rolled out the charge. A wall of bullets met them coming through the gap, and in the increasing moonlight horses and riders went down making for more wrecks, colliding on the fallen. Some made it past the mess and were hanging low, shooting over their horses at the corral.

  Constant ear-shattering rifle shots from his men cut down horses forced to stay on the track left by the fallen trees and made them more like duck targets in a carnival tent. The shooters took them down. Finally some Comanche broke to the left and fled into the live oak and cedar brush.

  Moaning horses thrashed and dying Comanche chanted final songs. Harp told his men to stay put until daylight. They would end all the misery when they could see the ones who might threaten them. The battle had been won. Aside from some scratches, no one on their team was wounded or hurt.

  Kate joined him, excited and hugging his arm. “I knew you two would stop them, but I never thought it would be this big a defeat.”

  “We planned on stopping them. A couple of our saddle horses is all we lost. We will drag the dead away and have a funeral pyre for them.”

  Three men came to get them.

  “Ira has breakfast.”

  Harp nodded. “Two of you with loaded guns watch the Indians. We’ll eat in shifts.”

  At the meal, he stopped before his brother with his plate in his lap. “You, Chaw, and I will finish off those that are not dead.”

  Both men nodded.

  “Thanks.”

  “You won’t save any?” she asked in a low voice.

  “No. They would have killed us. I don’t want to face them again.”

  “I guess a leader has to do those things.”

  He sat down with his plate of food and strained against the tightness between his shoulder blades.

  “Later. I can work that out,” she said, noticing his stiffness.

  “It may take blasting powder.”

  “No. Trust me. I can get it out of you.”

  After the meal, Harp, Long, and Chaw, armed with rifles, walked the d
eath field. One by one each man checked a body. Long shot a buck lying on his back. Obviously still alive, Long sent him to the good Indian place for an eternity.

  “His eyes blinked.”

  Carefully Harp turned another over onto his back. He had the rifle ready in his other hand to shoot if he was still alive. He was dead. This job was no fun, and the grotesque death scene made it hard for him to keep his food down.

  Long silenced a pained horse.

  Chaw shot another buck lying on his side. Then on the fringe he shot one crawling away. Shaking his head, he hooked the dead Indian’s foot to the lariat to be drug away by a cowboy on horseback.

  The rest were dead. Then they began to shoot the hurt and crippled horses. It was a day Harp knew he’d not easily forget.

  His crew began to double up and haul the dead Indians and horses a good distance away from the corral and their camp as the buzzards, by the hundreds, began to congregate in the air overhead for the feast.

  The last body and horse corpse hauled away, Harp seated himself on a bench and she was kneading his stiff back with both hands. Something began to lighten in Harp’s head and brighten his mind while swallowing the sourness that kept rising in his throat.

  “Your back is really tight,” she leaned in to tell him.

  “It is getting better.”

  “Ma’am, you ain’t got a sister do you?” Doug asked, going by with his lunch plate full of food.

  She laughed. “I don’t know. I’ve been an orphan all my life.”

  “Really. What a shame.”

  Harp agreed.

  With the sides of her hands she pounded his back. “Can you eat or do you want me to pound more?”

  He smiled up at her. “Thanks. That’s much better.”

  “We starting to round up unbranded cattle today or tomorrow?” Long asked, squatting down beside him.

  “Yes. And we need to burn the bodies today.”

  “We will do that after lunch. Then I want to take three hands with me and see what cattle we can shake out of the brush.”

  “Sure; sooner we get done up here, the better I will feel.”

  Long agreed. “The funeral burn is in Doug’s hands. I’ll get my three when we get through eating and see what we can find.”

  “Good job.”

  Long said, “Oh, and on Saturday I am going to a dance with Anna. So I’m quitting about noon.”

  “Why not ride out after breakfast Saturday?”

  “And leave you with all this to do?”

  “Yes, do that.”

  By then Katy was laughing at the two men’s conversation.

  “Don’t laugh. This is a new side to my brother,” Harp said.

  Long shot back, “Hell, Kate, he ain’t the only O’Malley who dates women.”

  She winked at him. “I wish you luck. She’s a lovely lady.”

  “Thanks. Keep him straight while I am gone. Someone has to do that all the time.” Long smiled at her and went to find a place to sit and eat his lunch.

  “He sounds serious.”

  “You never can tell. I found you.”

  “Well, I invited you to eat peaches.”

  “Yeah, I liked that. You caught me on a day I wasn’t vexed by any of the problems I had all the way there.”

  “No. God helped me with that.”

  “Oh, Katy, God don’t help sinners.”

  “I think he did. But those peaches and you were both sweet. I felt blessed.”

  “I might take you and my bedroll out of sight and take a nap after we eat.”

  “Everyone will see us hightailing it and know what we are doing.”

  He was laughing. “You think they believe all I have you for is rubbing my back?”

  “Eat lunch first. You’ll need your strength.”

  With some effort he rose and followed her to the food line—he was lucky he found her. Their life, so far, was fun.

  CHAPTER 10

  On his circle, Long found mavericks of all shapes and sizes, and wild as deer. Squatted on his haunches back in camp he told Harp they could get lots of free cattle out of this country they were in. “Remember, I’ll be back Sunday—late.”

  “Don’t rush back; they’ll be here.”

  Long looked around to be sure no one was close. “You’re lucky, bro. Anna ain’t Kate.”

  Harp nodded. The words slipped off his lips. “They only made one of her.”

  “You know I believe that. You’re lucky. Kate has no rules. Anna has strict ones.”

  “You can win if you want to—bad enough.”

  “I’ll tell you Sunday.”

  “Maybe Monday.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I want to make a run tomorrow and see how many we can get without my best man.”

  “Half your world. Build to it. Good night.”

  Katy joined Harp. “You two through for the night?”

  “You bet. Is Chaw up at the wagon?” Harp said.

  “He was a minute ago.”

  “I need a word with him.” He left them to find him. At the wagon he caught his point man. “Tomorrow, saddle up at dawn. I want a hundred head in these pens at sundown.”

  “Long’s going—”

  “Hey, I want to show him we can do this while he courts the lady.”

  “I’m game. We will all be in the saddle at sunup.”

  “See you at breakfast.”

  “Harp. I know we can do it.”

  “That’s why I want to do it.” Then he took Katy off to their tent.

  “What were you and Long talking so serious about?”

  “I think Anna is keeping him at arm’s length.”

  “Really?”

  “And I think Long’s jealous of us.”

  “He’s as neat a guy as you are. Why would she do that?”

  “Strict upbringing.”

  “I had none of that in my life. Folks did things and no one looked.”

  Harp laughed, undressing. “Darling, if and when you get pregnant, I want to get married.”

  “Really?”

  “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

  She was up kissing him. Her wet tears spilling on him as they kissed. “I never thought I was worth being anyone’s real wife.”

  He hugged her. “We don’t have to have a baby to get married.”

  “Harper, no one in my life ever asked me to marry them.”

  “I just did.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Yes, if you want to put up with me. No, if you have plans to see France, because I ain’t going there.”

  “Silly. I would be proud as anything to be your wife.”

  “You are now.”

  “Do it in a church?”

  “Hell, wherever. Do it on the moon coming up if that’s what you want.”

  She threw her arms around his neck. “Let’s go back to bed.”

  “Anything you want.”

  “I want you.”

  “When we get back home, you and Mother set it up. She’ll know what to do.”

  “She means a lot to you doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, she’s been great.”

  “I hope if I ever have kids they love me like that.”

  “No problem. I know they will.”

  He meant every word of it. Maybe tomorrow they’d set a record on wild cattle gathered. Who knew anything?

  CHAPTER 11

  Sun was cracking the eastern sky when every hand that worked for the O’Malley Brothers Land and Cattle Company was on deck, save half owner Long O’Malley who had gone off to see the widow Greg. They rode out singing and swinging their ropes like the day would be a Sunday picnic and dance mixed in.

  He recalled how his dad would drop them off, like he did his cowboys, in a wide circle. One by one he set them off until the circle was complete. He’d told each one to listen for the shot and charge. When Katy and he reached the other side, he drew the Colt .44 and smiled. “Ready, Mrs. O’Malley?”

>   “Yes, Mr. O’Malley.”

  “Ee-ha!” The busted cap shocked his eardrums, and the men’s wild war cries must have sent every longhorn in that part of Texas into a stampede. The brush was tough to dodge through, but every horseman charged off the surrounding ridges and the dust from their flight boiled in the air. He caught glimpses of hysterical cattle jumping barriers and running to escape this new threat. The riders on the south forced them to thicken their ranks, and the north flank riders kept them moving.

  Harp led the riders on the north side. He wanted them headed for the great meadow and then turned into the chute-like structure that boxed the Comanche, and into the stout pens. Kate wasn’t far away, paralleling his course after promising to take no chances if things went sour. The brush swept by them, and he saw a rider and horse go down. God protect him.

  Harp spurred the buffalo horse on to the drum of a thousand hooves, cattle brawling and things crashing down. The leaders were approaching the open land and began to slow. His riders began to start the circle that would line them up with the corrals.

  How long had they been running? He had no idea, and riding as hard as his hard-breathing horse could go he didn’t intend to check his pocket watch. Once in the great meadow he began to slack back.

  The front steers took the lead and were heading north like a pretty picture. Harp shouted a war cry, and, as his line eased back, the cattle were making a beeline for the opening. Forty-eight hours before the Comanche took the same route. Now cattle were filing in through the open gates of the huge round pen. Hundreds of cattle and calves all went into the five-acre pen swirling around in a cloud of dust.

  He reined up his horse and opened the gold watch. Twelve o’clock.

  “What time is it?” she asked him, sitting her horse beside him as the cattle passed them flowing into the pens.

  Red Culver took off his hat and wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve. Then taking a look at the sun, said, “A little after twelve, ma’am.”

  “You got it pegged, Red,” Harp said.

  Katy laughed. “Nice job, and, Red, you don’t have to wind yours.”

  “How many did we catch?” Red asked him.

  “Guessing, maybe three hundred? I don’t know. We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

  “Hey, won’t Long be shocked when he sees ’em?” Chaw asked.