The Sundown Chaser

by Dusty Richards

  His answers did not suit them and they beat up on him. Travis wanted to get back at them when he found Herschel spitting blood on the ground by the outhouses. Herschel called him off.

  “Hell, Travis, I can’t marry her. I can’t support her. We barely get by ourselves. Besides, them three are twice our size.”

  “When did that ever stop us?”

  “Tonight, I think, they caved in a rib or two.” He winced at the pain.

  “What’ll happen to her?” Travis asked, looking out in the dark school yard for her brothers. When the two of them went back inside, there was no sign of her in the schoolhouse either. They’d taken her away.

  The next week in town, Herschel learned she was engaged to a much older man in San Antonio who’d lost his wife in an Indian raid. He saw her one time a year later on the sidewalk in Mason. She was big as a house, expecting a baby any minute by his appraisal.

  “Damn you anyway,” she said under her breath, glaring out of her dark eyes at him. “When you told them you didn’t want me, they sold me to him.”

  “I never said that. Sold you—” He didn’t know what to say.

  “Yes.” she hissed, and put her hands on her belly. “This is all your fault, too.”

  She tried to blame him for everything, but he knew that dancing with her didn’t cause what happened to her. Still, it was one more of his mistakes with women. Thank God he had found Marsha.

  That night, when the girls were asleep and he and his wife were in their bedroll, Marsha whispered, “Were you engaged to her?”

  “To who?”

  She poked him. “You know. Gretchen.”

  “No, and when I wouldn’t get engaged to her, her brothers beat me up and sold her to an old man.”

  “They did what?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Oh, that was horrible.”

  “I thought so, too.” He rolled over and rocked her in his arms. “But I’m so glad I have you.”

  “So am I.”

  The next day, he was hoping to talk to several attendees that might come for the dance. Hatch and Olsen headed his list. He visited in private with a few ranchers he felt were trustworthy enough to ask if they knew anyone named Thompson, but no one did. He guessed that Hatch had some of them too scared to say a word to a lawman. Those other men who’d talked about Hatch at the previous dance were probably the bravest ones.

  Shultz arrived in a fresh-boiled shirt and with his suit brushed. First thing, he stopped by to talk to Marsha. Herschel figured that way the cattle buyer would get an invite to take meals with them and also dance that night with her. He wasn’t missing a trick.

  Bailey Hanks showed up at noontime for lunch. Bailey was another single Texas cowboy who always did rope tricks for the girls when he came by. Wore his pants tucked in his boot tops and was so bowlegged, a hog on the run would get right though them. He came over to the wagon tailgate to wash up.

  Bailey looked around and then cleared his throat. “I ain’t a man to snitch, but don’t Sonny Pharr work for you?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Well, I was up in Miles City this week getting a load of salt and seen him last Wednesday.” Bailey wet his lower lip. “I’d sworn he was there on business.”

  “What kinda business?”

  “He had something tarped down in a wagon bed. I seen it when I rode past him. Couldn’t tell what it was.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I figured you’d like to know that.”

  “I do. And I’ll check on it. You seen Hatch or Olsen?”

  A dark mask spread over Bailey’s face. “Let me tell you a story about Olsen. I was checking on some heifers two weeks ago and I run on to him. There were two heifers kinda boxed up in a canyon, and he was sitting on the ground at the mouth of it, smoking a cigarette. I knew them heifers had been run up there, ’cause they were bawling about it wanting to get back to some others.

  “I jumped him and asked him what in the hell he was doing with ’em. He got his back all up and said he was just riding through the country and if I didn’t mind my own damn business I’d be sprouting daisies.”

  “He make any more threats?”

  “Yeah, something about nosy cowboys don’t live long.”

  “You better watch your back. They shot Hamby.”

  “I know, and he was one of them.”

  “You know anything else?”

  “You two come eat,” Marsha called to them.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Bailey said. Then he swept off his silk-rimmed best hat and made a deep bow for her that set the girls to giggling. “We’re a-coming, my fair lady.”

  What else did Bailey know about the Hamby deal? What in the hell was Sonny Pharr doing over in Miles City on a weekday?

  TWENTY-TWO

  THURMAN helped Mary down from the stage and looked around them in the mid-afternoon. A nice orderly-looking place, Billings was a lot like many Western towns. He’d asked the stage driver at the last stopover about a suitable hotel. He’d recommended the Bismarck, and it was only a block away. Thurman stored their things in the stage office except for Mary’s bag, and they started down the boardwalk. The Real Food Café was ahead of them on their side of the street.

  “Could you eat something?” he asked her.

  “I think so. I am not very hungry, but know I must eat to feed Cheyenne.”

  He nodded. “Looks like we’ll eat here.”

  A good-sized woman came over to where they sat to take their order. “You two must be new in town. I’m Maude and this is my place.”

  “I’m Thurman and that’s Mary.”

  “Oh, and you have a baby. How old is it?”

  “Three days old,” Mary said.

  “Where you folks from?”

  “South Texas.”

  “Lots of Texas folks up here. My husband, Buster, is from Texas.” She looked over at the kitchen doorway where he stood, rolling a cigarette in his fingers. “Buster, these folks are from Texas.”

  Buster nodded. “I know him. Ain’t seen him in fifteen years. Don’t you know who he is?”

  Maude shook her head and glanced back at Thurman.

  “Look hard.”

  “Is he Herschel Baker’s father?”

  Thurman nodded, and rose. “Your husband and I were together in the war, too. Come over and meet my wife, Sergeant.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Buster said, still acting surprised. “You’re the last person I ever expected to see in Billings.”

  “Why? It’s a free country.”

  “Damn sure is that. Sit down,” Buster said, and scraped up a chair. Seated, he struck a gopher match under the table and lit the twisted cylinder. “Captain Baker, I guess you’re here to see Herschel.”

  “I am. I have a proposition to make him.”

  Buster looked at the floor and took the cigarette out of his mouth. “Reckon he’d listen?”

  “I don’t know. But I came a long way to simply talk with him.”

  Buster nodded. “It’s been a long time.”

  “I won’t disagree. Lots of water’s run over the rocks.”

  “Cap’n, I got to tell you if you don’t know that Travis’s dead. They buried him between here and the Little Big Horn over five years ago.”

  “I heard that. Met a man from the cattle drives down at the Red River a couple of months ago who knew Travis. Said he made a helluva hand with a horse.” Thurman nodded. “Both of them boys could always ride.”

  Buster agreed. “Why, Herschel rides a big stout outlaw roan horse right now.”

  “He at the office?”

  “No, he’s up at the Soda Springs dance this weekend. Been a murder up there and he’s trying to solve it. And he will, too. Solves them all.”

  “The whole family is up there,” Maude said, bringing them plates of food. “I get to hold the baby while you eat. Where are you staying?”

  “Bismarck, I guess.”

  She held the baby high. “What’s his name?�
�

  “Cheyenne,” Mary said.

  Buster frowned. “She Cheyenne?”

  “No, she’s Cherokee.”

  “Been a long time, Cap’n. That mud in Mississippi I won’t ever forget. Got it even behind my teeth—” Buster broke up, coughing. “Worst damn thing I ever slipped in, fell, and even rolled in.”

  Buster looked like the mud still bothered him. “It was the trip home got me. They let you keep your horse and six-gun. Was there six or so of us got back home together?

  “We were on foot and in Louisiana. Then you stole them Yankee hosses for us and we all rode home from there. I always wondered why you took all that risk.”

  “You’d of done it for me.”

  Buster dropped his head and shook it. “I ain’t so damn sure, as tough as those times were, I would have. You did a good thing for some worn-out soldiers that you didn’t have to do and risked your life doing it.”

  “We didn’t come home to much more either.”

  “That damn war—” Buster dropped his head and shook it ruefully.

  “I’m healed of that war, Buster. I don’t dream about it no more. I only reflect with my old friends about it.”

  “That’s good,” Buster agreed. “Herschel’ll be back Sunday evening. I don’t know what to tell you. I mean, he don’t say much about his feelings. I asked him several times about you and he shrugged it off.”

  “Well, that’s his business. I came a long ways to find him. But if he’s not interested, then I guess I can ride back.”

  Buster ground out his cigarette in an ashtray and put it on another table. “He’s got a good wife and three dandy girls. They keep him hopping.”

  “He really had a tough fight,” Maude said, rocking the baby. “When they shot his best friend in the back and the sheriff we had then never investigated it, he went on a one-man campaign that liked to get him killed and almost burned him up when they burned his place down.

  “His wife, Marsha, really helped him get elected. He took them all on, even the big corporation ranches who’d ran things up till then.”

  “Sounds like he did a great job. I learned what he was doing clear down in Wichita, Kansas.”

  Buster nodded. “He changed things around here. There’s real law. He’s got lots of that Baker stick-to-it in him.”

  “Thanks, Buster, for putting in a word. I’m on my own now.” Thurman buttered another biscuit, considering the meeting he planned with his son.

  “Cap’n, you know I’d about gave up that day when you came riding back for us with them horses?”

  “I had no idea.”

  “My bare feet were bloody raw. My belly button rubbing my backbone. I think if I’d had a gun, I’d of ended my life right there. Then you came busting into camp shouting, ‘Get in the saddle,’ and I couldn’t believe it.”

  “I saw O’Brien in Fort Smith. His wife died while he was off in the war. His sons are dead and his daughter keeps his house.”

  “Same old burly guy?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “I better get back to my dishes or the boss’ll fire me.”

  Maude shook her head at him with a frown about his remark, and handed the baby back to Mary. “She’s such a terror, she just may fire you,” Maude said after Buster.

  Then she laughed.

  She left them to finish their meal, and Mary smiled at Thurman. “It was nice to meet your friend and his wife.”

  “Yes, it was. I think you’re feeling stronger.”

  “I am fine. How long will we be here?”

  “I don’t know, Mary. Maybe a day, maybe longer. He may say no so loud to my offer, we can leave in the morning.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He stopped cutting the beef on his plate. “You know something?”

  She shook her head and tossed her braids over her shoulder. “No, but sometimes I think about things that will happen.”

  “Keep thinking positive then.”

  In a lowered voice, she said, “She did not care that I was an Indian, did she?”

  “No, she did not care.”

  Mary held the boy in the crook of her arm and ate with the other hand like it was no problem. “How did Buster get up here?”

  “I imagine on a cattle drive.”

  “You must have been a good soldier.”

  “I did what I had to. That’s all.”

  “You do that a lot. To pregnant squaws even. To anyone who needs help.”

  “Well, if you think hauling you across the United States and territories is helping people, you’re easy to please.”

  “I am, Thurman Baker. I am.”

  After lunch, they took a room in the Bismarck and he went off to find a card game. In the Antelope, he joined some poker players and told them his name was Thurman. The others were a man called Barrow, with hard eyes and deft hands when he was shuffling cards, the town physician, and Carl Reeves, who ran a sawmill.

  Barrow kept looking at him like he was trying to place him. “Thurman, you sure look familiar to me.”

  “I’m a cattle buyer. Took a couple herds up the trail for other folks. You may have seen me in some cow town.”

  “May have. I’ve got aces.” Barrow showed a pair.

  Thurman tossed his cards in and Barrow took the pot. They anted a dollar and Doc dealt.

  “Railroad’s coming. You getting in on the land boom?” Reeves asked.

  Thurman shook his head. “You sawing up lots of lumber for it?”

  “Much as I can. I think Billings is going to become the biggest city in the region.”

  “That damn railroad ain’t even here yet,” Barrow said. “They’ve been five years getting it this far out of the Dakotas. If the stock market crashes again, the tracks will end at Miles City for another decade,” Barrow said, then fanned out his cards in his hand.

  Two hours later, Thurman left the card game up or down a few dollars. As the day lengthened, the Saturday crowd changed from ranch family folks in town for supplies to lumberjacks, freighters, and cowboys.

  He’d not seen a lawman on the street, but there was little hell-raising. Of course, it wasn’t a cow town with wild drovers fresh off the trail and trying to drink the place dry. Even the ones that looked kinda grizzly sounded almost subdued on arrival. Some firewater might change that further along in the night.

  He took Mary back for supper at the café. After the meal, when they stepped out on the boardwalk, he heard shouting in the street. He stopped Mary and stood on his toes in the gathering darkness trying to see if the ruckus posed any danger to her and the boy.

  Then he saw a short burly man with the glint of a badge on his vest headed for the trouble across the street. Since the obvious fight was between them and the hotel, Thurman told Mary they’d wait.

  Maude came out, drying her hands on her apron. “Can you tell from here what’s happening?” she asked.

  “Sounds like a fight to me.”

  Maude looked around.

  Thurman interpreted her glance as that she was looking for the authorities. “The law went by a minute ago,” he said.

  “What did he look like?”

  “Short, broad-shouldered.”

  “That’s Art. He can handle a mob.”

  The crowd in the street had grown silent, and a strong voice cut the twilight. “I’m taking the two of you in. Any more of you want to sit in jail till Monday morning, just get in a fight.”

  It was over. Maude shook her head and started inside. “Railroad gets here, they won’t be locals that kinda behave, it’ll be lots of trouble. I can hardly wait.”

  Thurman agreed, and took Mary back to their room. He had another day to wait to meet his son. After fifteen years, that didn’t sound like much more than an eternity. All he’d heard about Herschel he liked, but it wouldn’t be an easy family reunion.

  TWENTY-THREE

  HERSCHEL called them “Marsha’s freeloaders.” Single cowboys drifted in like migrating ducks to a pond. She had eig
ht extras by noontime for lunch, and even Kate laughed with him.

  “I think she likes all of them,” Kate said.

  He winked at his stepdaughter. “It’s the mother hen in her. Besides, she’s cooked enough beans for all of them.”

  Kate nodded in firm agreement.

  Elsie Moon came over and asked what had attracted the mob. A gray-haired widow woman in her fifties, she stood straight-backed and looked much younger. “What kinda bait are you using? You have more split wood than you can ever use and you’re overrun with handsome single men.”

  “They’re all friends of my husband,” Marsha said as she replaced the iron lid of the big Dutch oven with the hook. “Biscuits are about done,” she announced. “Tucker, take Elsie over an armload of split wood.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the stringbean cowboy said, getting up. He tipped his hat to Elsie, and then went to loading up on the freshly split wood.

  “I’m over by the gray team,” Elsie said, pointing across the school yard.

  ‘I’m a-coming, ma’am.”

  Herschel caught him when he started that way. “Don’t eat any of her pie over there. It’ll ruin your appetite for beans.”

  “Oh, that wouldn’t do nothing to my appetite,” Tucker said, and laughed.

  After lunch, the cowboys washed the plates and cups for Marsha. Tales of wrecks, crazy horses, and mad cattle filled the conversation. Harry Boyd told about one time going to court the new schoolmarm. He’d bought her some hard candy and riding over there, he’d spotted some pretty wildflowers, dismounted, and the seam of his pants ripped out. With no needle or thread to fix it and being over halfway there, he’d ridden on to the schoolhouse anyway. No one could tell the embarrassing condition of his pants as long as he stayed in the saddle, so he’d decided not to get off his horse.

  “At the schoolhouse, I rode up close, handed her the candy and the flowers. She said how touching it was and I about busted my buttons. Sure thought I was in. But shortly thereafter, she got engaged to Tom Edgar. When I later asked her why she picked Tom and not me, you’ll never guess what she said.”

  “What was that?”

  “She said, ‘I figured you wouldn’t get off your horse long enough to marry me.’ ”