The Black Horse Westerns

by Abe Dancer

  ‘Yeah,’ Ben agreed. ‘I guess I did for a bit.’

  ‘I heard a rumour they got law stretehin’ most o’ the way across the plateaux now,’ Hector continued. ‘It just ain’t ever broke through the brush to get here. I was sort o’ hopin’ there’d be a filed suit against Wilshaw Broome, an’ the law would take its course.’

  ‘Hah, you weren’t hopin’ any such thing, Hector Chaf,’ Ben snorted. ‘It’s pretty plain now, we pay ourselves fightin’ wages an’ that’s what you were hopin’ for.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe. That an’ a touch o’ homesickness,’ Hec affirmed. ‘It’s been a few long years since I left here. Weren’t long after ol’ Hoope had his accident. I recall he made Broome more field assistant than foreman. That fall must’ve broke somethin’ in his head. Don’t you reckon?’

  ‘I guess so, Hec, but it’s history. An’ it don’t rightly explain why you rode north with Jasper an’ his boy. You sayin’ you got upset at what was goin’ on between ol’ Hoope an’ Broome? I reckon right now might be the time to spill.’

  ‘I’ll come to that, Ben. An’ no, it weren’t just because o’ the relationship between them two. You know that Judd went sort o’ loco, pushed young Jasper from his furrow. But the kid was entitled to a full share and he told Judd as much.’

  ‘Ain’t been the first time those brothers fought, Hec, an’ you know it.’

  ‘Not to the point where one of ’em orders the other one off the property like some sort o’ pariah dog. Jasper got real mad at that, even went for his gun. He wouldn’t have shot, but I stopped him anyway, got him to ride into town with me to cool off.’

  ‘An’ you didn’t stop till you got to Westwater, is that it?’ Ben asked quizzically.

  ‘No, you old fool, not quite,’ Hector corrected him jovially. ‘Out on the road, we met up with Broome an’ a couple of his ’punchers. Some words passed between them an’ Jasper, who knew Broome to be the guilty one, an’ Jasper was still pipin’ with frustration at havin’ almost shot his own kin. One o’ the ’punchers lost his nerve an’ levelled a big hogleg, but Broome was ahead of him. He read the situation, cursed Jasper some, then ordered his men to ride on – him with ’em. For all his faults, there’s a feller who knows when to back off. Young Jasper’s face would’ve told him that, without me bein’ there.’

  ‘Yeah, I’d have liked to have seen that,’ Ben said. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Me an’ Jasper rode on to Lemmon. We both knew that Broome was a thief. Cattle, land, money, you name it. He always had been, an’ we didn’t need that day’s happenin’ to drive it home. Jasper couldn’t handle bein’ in a position where he nearly kills his own brother. He reckoned he ought to get himself out of any situation where it would happen again, as it likely would. He didn’t see any gain in hangin’ around with his family ties bein’ so combustible.’

  ‘So that’s when you took off?’

  ‘Yeah, the three of us. Joe was ten.’

  ‘You went straight up to Westwater?’

  ‘No, Tacoma. Me an’ Jasper got work easy enough, an’ Joe went to school.’

  ‘What happened to Jasper?’

  ‘He died. Goddamn yellow fever came in off the summer levels. At least he saw Joe finish his schoolin’. That’s when we decided to move on, ended up at Westwater Bend, where I wrote you. When you told me about the land belongin’ to Jasper, I had to tell Joe. That changed a lot o’ things – for both of us.’

  ‘There’s been a hell of a lot o’ dyin’ west o’ the Rockies, Hec. Sounds like you kept movin’ just to avoid it,’ Ben suggested wryly.

  Hector raised his eyes. ‘But only for so long. There comes a time….’ He trailed off the innate warning.

  Ben nodded his understanding. ‘You know there’s stuff that I got to tell,’ he offered.

  ‘If it’s about Wilshaw Broome, you best tell it,’ Hector advised his old friend.

  ‘Broome brought in his wife an’ kid from somewhere outside o’ Gallup. He got ’em both payrolled with Judd at the ranch house. Some goddamn twist of fate for Judd to go picking daisies not long after; specially after he’d made over a quit claim deed to Broome a day or so before they found him. It looked real fish, Hec, but who was to look into it? Jasper was gone an’ there weren’t anyone else.’

  ‘How did Judd die?’ Hector asked.

  ‘In a manner o’ speakin’ he drank himself to death. He went on a bender, fell from his horse, an’ broke his neck. There were enough witnesses to say that’s how it happened, but there was also one or two that said he was no more roostered than normal.’

  ‘Well, you’re right about a heap o’ people dyin’,’ Hector agreed. ‘Perhaps we should keep on the move. The Rio Bonito’s always been a dangerous place to linger.’

  ‘But it’s got real valuable in the passin’ years,’ Ben said. ‘It was because I wanted to sell some o’ what I got, or thought I’d got, that I found out.’

  ‘You mean, found out you got no claim?’ Hector wanted to know.

  ‘Yeah, that’s right. There’s no title of any description. The ol’ buzzard didn’t even leave a promissory.’ Ben shrugged wearily. ‘I can only guess it was because that section weren’t worth a plugged nickle in them days. Most folk would never have foreseen the value in years to come. Huh, these goddamn years.’

  ‘Well, that’s why we’re here,’ Hector rasped drily. ‘A few civic adjustments need to be made. You say that new law makes Thanksgivin’ the done-by date?’

  Ben nodded. ‘Yeah. That’s when his ten years o’ peaceable possession are up.’

  ‘That’s about the long an’ the short of it, Joe,’ Hector said, turning to Joseph Kettle who had remained quiet but very attentive. ‘Ain’t much doubt Wilshaw Broome got an opportune benefit by the death o’ your uncle Judd. An’ he’s recruited an army o’ gunmen to help him keep his ill-gotten gains. He must’ve known one day you’d be back. Rights an’ wrongs never did mean much in this neck o’ the woods. As for us, we got three fair mounts, an irregular mix of ordnance, an’ a heap o’ good intentions. For two of us it’ll be just like of times, but what do you say?’

  Joe looked at Hector. ‘Do you remember that school ma’am in Tacoma? The one who asked me what my childhood was like, an’ I shrugged and said, “oh, just normal I guess”.’ Joe shook his head, grinned at the memory. ‘Well, I done enough listenin’ to you an’ Ben givin’ a standpoint to Kettle history, but it is my family not yours. So if you want that we stick it to ’em, we’ll start the chamber spinnin’ with a challenge on that title deed. I’ll ride into Lemmon tomorrow to file it, maybe buy us some more bullets.’

  14

  Next morning, Megan was wearing a dress and her hair was brushed loose. She was well worth a second look, and she got it from Joseph when the men sat down for breakfast.

  An hour later, when Hector and Joe were saddling up, Ben had a quiet word with her.

  ‘I like it,’ he said, and smiled warmly. ‘But I said I’d tell you about this mess we got.’

  ‘You can start by admittin’ you weren’t drunk out there in the brush,’ Megan replied.

  ‘Yeah, well, I wasn’t,’ he said, and told her what had really happened.

  ‘Where are those men now?’

  ‘Hector took care of ’em. Exactly how, might be one thing best left alone,’ Ben advised.

  ‘What about the land bein’ wrested from the Kettle family?’

  ‘We got a pretty good idea it was Wilshaw Broome who murdered Judd Kettle … somehow inveigled the Standin’ K from him. We’re goin’ into Lemmon, an’ ol’ Hoope Kettle’s grandson’s goin’ to file a dispute for the town clerk.’

  ‘But after what happened yesterday, there’s still goin’ to be a fight. Joe knows that?’ Megan speculated.

  ‘As sure as God made little apples. But Hec told me this boy’s the spit of his pa. I know he don’t talk much, but I ain’t seen a youngster in a while I took to more.’

  ‘I know, an’ he ain’t said more’n two w
ords to me since we met up,’ Megan chipped back.

  ‘Well, if he could, Megan, he’d probably say he’s pleased you got yourself prettied up for him.’

  ‘I can dress for—’ Megan started to protest, but Ben held up his hand.

  ‘It’s worth it for whatever, or whoever,’ he said. ‘Now, if the moment we’re gone, you switch that costume to chaps an’ boots, remember, I don’t want you ridin’ out too far. The Broome men won’t give a woman any trouble, but if they ain’t lookin’ too close, they might snap off a long range shot at anyone approaching. I got to go now, Megan. You just remember what I said.’

  ‘I will. But you remember that as far as I’m concerned they can have anything except my pa.’

  Megan watched the three men ride away and the straight back and broad shoulders of young Joe Kettle. So this was the way her feelings were developing, she considered with interest. She hoped he knew it; recalled that soldiers who rode into combat often took a loved one’s keepsake with them.

  ‘Why don’t you go ridin’ with them stock buyers, Megan? You know just as much as your pa about four-legged critters?’ Her mother’s strident voice brought Megan out of her agreeable reverie. ‘You might stop him from bein’ robbed blind.’

  ‘I could certainly stop him from somethin’,’ Megan muttered.

  Ten minutes later Megan was into her range clothes, and she was headed for the Rio Bonito. A little smile crossed her ma’s face as she watched, waved from the small pantry window. Megan waved back. It wasn’t much of a deceit not to say she wasn’t riding after her pa and Joe and Hector.

  Megan rode along the banks of Rio Bonito. She looked into the breeze-rippled water, watched the slim willow leaves that skimmed across the sheltered eddies. She rode for nearly an hour before reining in where a thick screen of mixed timber ran close to the river-bank. She climbed from her saddle and sat with her back against a gnarled buckeye. For a long time, she stared pensively into the bright running water, felt the press of impending trouble.

  A hundred yards upstream, on the opposite bank, a man was talking to his horse, getting it to pull back from the water’s edge, ‘Stand up,’ you ol’ soak,’ he encouraged.

  ‘What the hell are we doin’ up here, Krate?’ a second man asked.

  ‘I told you, we’re lookin’ out for somebody,’ Carter Krate answered back. ‘It’s what the boss wants us to do, so we best do it. You saw the mood he was in earlier.’

  ‘Did he tell you who we’re supposed to be lookin’ out for?’

  ‘Yeah, an’ he said we shouldn’t make a ruckus, so keep your goddamn voice down. We’re to see if Ben McGovren’s got any riders with him.’

  ‘Huh. That old coot ain’t likely to be with anyone, less it’s his mare. He don’t need no help to run that shirt-tail outfit.’

  ‘Well, Felix is sayin’ otherwise,’ Krate answered back. ‘He says McGovren’s suddenly got himself a couple o’ gun-packers. Do you know where Tate an’ Perez were last night?’

  ‘Gettin’ roostered in town.’

  ‘No, they weren’t,’ Krate corrected. ‘Felix said his pa found ’em in a line shack by one o’ the creeks. He said whatever happened durin’ the night got ’em frightened speechless. No good to man nor beast for a day or so. It made Broome madder’n a stuck pig.’

  ‘They must’ve said somethin’.’

  ‘Yeah, that it was McGovren, but he had two others coverin’ his back. That’s what we’re doin’ out here … lookin’ for ’em. Oh, an’ somethin else,’ Krate added. ‘There was what looked like a couple o’ corn nubbins stuck to the shack’s door on a pear thorn. But they was dried-up earlobes, human earlobes. Boss said it was some sort o’ hex, a sign of retribution. Felix reckons that’s what’s got him rattled, not the treatment two of his riders got.’

  ‘So what are we supposed to do if we run into ’em?’

  ‘That’s up to us, I guess. Felix reckons his pa’s puttin’ up a fat reward for bringin’ ’em down.’

  ‘There’s all sorts o’ fat, Krate.’

  ‘Felix reckons it’ll be three or four hundred dollars apiece for McGovren an’ them two other fellers.’

  The other man whistled through his teeth. ‘All things bein’ equal, that’s a fair bounty. An’ up against another ’puncher, I’d take it. But how’d we spend more’n a year’s pay in Boot Hill, if they’re hired guns?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Krate agreed. ‘We’ll have to be real watchful, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Any other likely trouble we should bear in mind?’

  ‘No, other than to look out for the girl. She ain’t to be harmed.’

  ‘The McGovren girl? What’s she got to do with all this?’

  ‘I reckon Felix has gone sweet on her,’ Krate said. ‘But we’ll find out tonight, when we ride to that little house o’ theirs. But don’t worry yourself into a spin, there’s goin’ to be a good half-dozen of us.’

  ‘So, what the hell’s goin’ on?’

  ‘I don’t get to know the detail, but accordin’ to Felix, if they want to fight fire with fire, we’ll oblige.’

  ‘I was meanin’ the breadth of it. What’s behind it all?’

  ‘Accordin’ to Felix, this Ben McGovren’s been rustlin’ hereabouts for most of his life. The old Broome’s got tired of it, an’ wants an end to it, once an’ for all.’

  ‘Well, if he has been rustlin’, he ain’t got too much out of it. I wouldn’t have thought McGovren folk were much of a threat.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but I ain’t goin’ to argue the case,’ Krate decided. ‘I’m thinkin’ more o’ them dollars. Let’s ride further up the creek.’

  15

  Lemmon was barely awake when Joe and his two friends rode in. Joe had been thoughtful on the ride down. It was a pushy, challenging thing he was about to do, and at one point he wondered whether to feign a lack of involvement and return to Colorado. But he was soon through it. He and his father before him had been robbed, and he smarted with youthful anger at the thought of it.

  He didn’t have the help in numbers to play against the thieves, but so what? No one ever had two more loyal and resolute supporters than the two oldsters who now rode with him. Hector Chaf bore a long-time grudge against Wilshaw Broome. Ben was similar in his own list of grievances, coupled with the occupancy of a valuable tract of land. Both men held a powerful loyalty to the Kettle family.

  At first glance, the old cow town looked more or less as it had when he was a boy. The early morning sun slanted across the old adobe and false-front buildings, the occasional brick and two-storey structures. But there were a few more, like the grandly named Town Hall, and the double-fronted Agave Hotel. Joe smiled wistfully, recalled playing diabolo in the shade of the mercantile store’s awning. He had sat on the steps, thought the travelling salesmen impressive in their dark, store-bought suits.

  Joe wasn’t normally given to emotional arrests, but now he sniffed, took an affecting swallow. Like it or not, Lemmon was his home town, and he’d come back. He coughed noisily and moved on up the main street.

  Chris Tolman was standing at the door of his sun-bleached cantina. It was too early for much passing trade, but Tolman was his own reliable customer for most of the day. Blinking his eyes against the rising sun, he wondered who it was stepping up the Town Hall steps with Ben McGovren.

  ‘Mornin’, I’d like to see the clerk,’ Joe addressed the man who was sitting at a broad, leather-topped desk. ‘The person who takes up issues on land disputes.’

  ‘That’ll be me, Brent Perser. I handle most stuff around here of a civic an’ legal nature,’ the sharp-featured man said.

  ‘I’m talkin’ illegal, an’ I want to file a suit,’ Joe continued.

  ‘Well, that’s still me. You want to see Lawyer Daggert?’

  ‘I reckon I can handle my part,’ Joe replied. ‘But someone else might have need of him,’ he added with a cold smile.

  ‘Fill in these blanks,’ Perser said, and handed Joe some paper from a desk tray
.

  ‘Can I use your typewriter?’ Joe asked him.

  ‘Typewriter?’ Perser echoed, as if he himself didn’t understand the word.

  ‘Yeah, we ain’t all beaver men you know,’ Joe said, his smile easing a fraction. He turned and winked at Hector and Ben who were sharing bemused glances between Joe and the big Remington typewriter. ‘The school in Tacoma had an early business semester,’ he explained. ‘I guess that’s somethin’ else I owe my pa for.’

  Twenty minutes later, Joe returned the paper to Perser. ‘Look it over,’ he said. ‘See if it’s clear an’ regular.’

  ‘Oh, I’m just sure it is,’ Perser answered with a impressed nod. As he read, he made several gruff rumblings in his throat as he stared at the space for signatures. At the bottom of the page, Joe had typed: Witnessed, signed and dated by Hector Chaf and Ben McGovren.

  ‘Er, well yes, that’s the right words. But you don’t need witnesses for the filing,’ Perser informed Joe.

  ‘Perhaps not. But as long as they don’t invalidate it, I want ’em there,’ Joe told him.

  Neither Ben nor Hector had spoken since they had entered the office. They signed their names in continued silence and followed Joe out after he had paid the fees.

  ‘Touchpaper’s lit,’ Ben growled once they were outside.

  ‘We just put restraint on Wilshaw Broome’s title to the Standin’ K, nothin’ more,’ Hector said. ‘But it’s a filed dispute on the possession an’ he can’t hide it.’

  ‘You went to that Tacoma school as well, eh Hector?’ Ben asked with wry humour.

  ‘Nope. It’s just a tad more civilized up in Colorado. Business is an everyday occurrence, even for cowpokes.’

  ‘Wilshaw Broome might now have a disputed possession, but in this godforsaken country, he’ll dispute the dispute, an’ it won’t be by wavin’ a piece o’ goddamn paper. Just take a look there.’ Hector nodded back towards the building where the clerk was locking a side door that he’d pulled to.

  ‘Where the hell’s he off to?’ Joe asked.