Thal almost came out of his chair. “Shot?”
“There’s more,” Mrs. Hooper said, and resumed yet again. “‘I am heartbroken at the news. I’d like to go find Myles and make sure he is all right, but Ma and Pa won’t hear of it. I pleaded with Pa to go, but Ma got mad and won’t let him. She said she’s sorry about Myles, but he brought it on himself, and she’s not willing to lose Pa on his account. I think that’s cruel, but that’s just me.’”
“Sounds sensible to me,” Mr. Hooper marked. “I don’t blame the mother one bit.”
Nor did Thal. His parents were both in their fifties, much too old to be traipsing around the Black Hills in search of his brother. Not with all the dangers they might encounter.
Mrs. Hooper went on. “‘Thalis, I know I can count on you. I appeal to you for help. Please, please, please ask your employer for time off and go to the Black Hills and find Myles. I won’t rest until I hear he’s safe, and I doubt you will either. If I am asking too much, I apologize. But I’m sister to both of you, and love you both dearly, and would do for you as I’m trying to do for him.’” Mrs. Hooper glanced at Thal. “I said it before and I’ll say it again. You are indeed a most fortunate man, Mr. Christie.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Thal said. He supposed he was, at that, to have a sister so devoted.
Once more Mrs. Hooper bent to the letter. “‘If you can do so, please visit home on your way to the Black Hills. You have to come north anyway.’”
“Where are you from, Mr. Christie?” Mr. Hooper interrupted. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard.”
“My pa has a farm near Salina, Kansas,” Thal revealed. “I was raised there.”
“Kansas is a fine state,” Mr. Hooper declared.
“There’s only a little left to read,” Mrs. Hooper said, and finished with, “‘Can you have your employer or a friend write to me whether you will or you won’t come? If not, I’ll find someone else to go look for Myles. Again, if this is an imposition, I’m sorry. But we’re family, and this is what family should do.’” She paused a final time. “‘In deepest affection, your loving sister, Ursula.’”
“Well, now,” Thal said, not knowing what else he should say. He looked at the floor and shook his head in amazement at the unexpected turns of events. When he looked up, everyone was staring at him. “What?”
Mr. Hooper rose from the settee. “I imagine I know what your decision will be, but let me hear it. And don’t worry about your job. I’ll hold it open for you for, say, three months. If you haven’t returned by then, I’ll take it that I should hire new hands to replace you.”
“Yes, what will you do, Mr. Christie?” Mrs. Hooper. “Will you go to your sister’s aid, or not?”
“I believe I will,” Thal said.
Chapter 5
The Texas Panhandle was mostly grassland, and at that time of year, mostly dry. It was also largely uninhabited. Ranches were few, although Thal had heard tell that Charles Goodnight was starting one up. If anyone could succeed at ranching in the Panhandle, it was Goodnight. The man was well-known for his partnership with John Chisum over to New Mexico, and for the Goodnight-Loving trail they’d established to take cattle to market.
Thal admired Goodnight greatly. From all he’d heard, Goodnight was just about the best cattleman anywhere, and had a great head for business. Thal would give anything to be like him. He was thinking that when Ned, who was riding ahead, abruptly drew rein and pointed at the ground.
“Do you see what I see?”
Thal brought his chestnut to a stop and peered down. His skin crawled at the sight of a lot of horse tracks; not one was shod.
“Comanches,” Ned said.
Thal nodded. “Thank goodness they’re headin’ east, and not north like us.”
“What are they doin’ here at all?” Ned said. “They’re all supposed to be on reservations.”
The Comanches were once the terrors of Texas. Their warriors ranged far and wide, taking white lives wherever they could. Constant warfare, and disease, nearly wiped them out. The slaughter of the buffalo, on which they’d depended, completed their downfall. Only a couple of years ago, the last of the holdouts, Quanah Parker, had surrendered.
“These must be wild ones,” Thal said. There had been reports of warriors slipping away from the reservations to raid and kill. For nomads like the Comanches, who’d always wandered wild and free, being cooped up on a reservation was a sort of living death. Thal hated to admit that, after all the people they’d slain, he felt more than a smidgen of sympathy for their plight.
“Just our luck,” Ned said, gazing anxiously about. “Young bucks on the warpath, I reckon.”
“It will be a cold camp for us tonight, to be safe,” Thal said.
“I hear that, pard.”
They rode on more warily than before. When specks appeared in the distance, they both stopped and placed their hands on their six-shooters.
Thal braced for the worst even though he didn’t think it likely the specks were the Comanches.
Together, they cautiously advanced until the specks acquired shape and substance.
“Well, I’ll be,” Ned declared, and chuckled in relief. “Look at those horns and humps.”
“Buffalo, by golly,” Thal said. He well knew that the enormous herds of yesteryear were gone. Killed for their hides more than their meat, they’d been slaughtered, their carcasses left to rot. Only a few small herds remained, and to see any these days was rare.
Thal counted fourteen, ambling along as if they had somewhere to go. Enormous animals, they stood five feet high at the shoulders and were up to eleven feet in length. He couldn’t imagine trying to bring one down with a puny bow and arrow, yet Comanches and warriors from other tribes had done it all the time.
“They’ve seen us,” Ned said.
The buffalo were swinging wide to the west to avoid them. Apparently the buffs had learned from the demise of so many of their shaggy brethren, and were fighting shy of humans.
“Dang, they’re somehin’,” Ned said. “Look at how big they are, and how they move.”
“Take one for a pet, why don’t you?”
“Would that we could,” Ned said. “Or at least tend them for their meat like we do cattle.”
Thal grunted. It had been tried a few times but not with any success. Buffalo were too huge and too powerful to be contained by a fence. Not even barbed wire could stop them. Combine that with their temperamental natures, and they were trouble on the hoof.
This small bunch trotted on into the heat haze and were presently out of sight.
“I’m glad I got to see that,” Ned said. “It’ll be somethin’ to tell my kids about.”
“Seein’ buffalo?”
“Sure. There might not be any at all before too long. It’s like those birds back East. Those pigeons. Once there were millions of ’em and now they’re all gone. The buffalo might end up the same.”
Thal hoped not. He didn’t think any living thing deserved to be wiped out entirely, unless it was rattlesnakes.
That night they camped in a hollow, without a fire. Any light, however small, might give them away, and with Comanches on the prowl, Thal believed in being safe rather than sorry.
They were eating cold beans with the stars for a canopy when Ned asked out of the blue, “What’s this sister of yours like?”
Thal paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “Why do you want to know?”
“You never even told me you had one. Are you ashamed of her or somethin’?”
“You heard the letter. Ursula is a sweet gal. Our whole family thinks the world of her.”
“A fella would think you’d talk about her more.”
“My own sister? To a passel of randy cowpokes?” Thal snorted. “Not on your life.” He had a sudden suspicion. “Why this sudden interest in her anyhow?
”
“Just curious,” Ned said, chewing noisily. “I don’t have a sis, but I always wanted one. Ma said after six boys, she wasn’t havin’ any more kids.”
“Curiosity, huh?” Thal said skeptically. “Just remember. You’re to be on your best behavior when you meet my family.”
Ned stopped chewing. “Why, pard, I’m stricken. Would I do any less for you?”
“I mean it. I know how you get around females.”
“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Do you recollect the Red-Eye Saloon? And how you danced on the bar to impress that dove? I was plumb embarrassed.”
“I was plumb drunk,” Ned said, “so no, I don’t remember a whole lot about it except that it must have worked because I woke up in her bed the next mornin’.”
“Brag, why don’t you?”
“Can I help it if my dances make females swoon?”
“Since when is stompin’ your heels dancin’? I’ve seen broncs dance better than you when they’re tryin’ to buck the peeler.”
“Where do you think I learned it from?” Ned said, and laughed.
Despite himself, Thal laughed too. “Just don’t be stompin’ your heels at my sister. I don’t think she ever dances.”
“How would you know? I bet you never asked her to.”
“Dance with my own sister? No one does that.” Thal shuddered. “That’d be almost as bad as dancin’ with your own ma.”
“I danced with my ma a couple of times,” Ned said. “At church socials. Waltzes, they were. She was teachin’ me how so when I took to courtin’ I could impress the gals.”
“How did you go from a waltz to heel-stompin’ in a saloon?”
“When you’ve had enough whiskey,” Ned said, “a waltz just won’t do.”
Thal hardly ever danced because he was as ungainly as a bird with its wings clipped. When he tried, he was all elbows and knees. And once he’d tromped on a poor girl’s toes.
“You know,” Ned said thoughtfully, “if I wasn’t so fond of cow work, I wouldn’t mind dancin’ for a livin’.”
“Who ever heard of a such a thing? No one does that, you simpleton.”
“Sure they do. Back East. They have schools where they teach folks to dance.”
“You’re makin’ that up.”
“As God is my witness,” Ned said. “My ma told me about them. You pay money and some gal teaches you the steps so you can do the dances proper.”
“Well, that would be an improvement over your stompin’,” Thal said, “but I wouldn’t waste good money on somethin’ as silly as dance lessons.”
“Why not? You could stand to improve your chances at romance. You’re not exactly a marvel at it.”
“There you go again,” Thal said. “Bringin’ that up.”
“I’m only tryin’ to help,” Ned said. “Sooner or later you’re bound to hanker after a bedmate who smells of perfume instead of cows. You’ll need to impress her if you hope to have her say ‘I do.’”
“I can do without perfume.”
“Is your nose broken? Any man with sense would rather smell a flower than a cow’s backside.”
Thal spooned more beans, and froze. He’d heard something, out on the plain. Their horses had heard it too. Both animals had raised their heads and were staring to the east. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.
“What?”
“I don’t rightly know. But it was somethin’.” Thal put down his beans and spoon, quietly rose, and moved toward the east rim of the hollow.
“The Comanches, you reckon?” Ned whispered, following.
“I said I don’t rightly know. It could have been a horse. It could have been a wild animal.”
A sea of pale grass in the starlight, the plain stretched for as far as the eye see could in all directions.
After a minute or so, Ned whispered, “I don’t hear or see anything.”
Neither did Thal. “If it was Comanches, we won’t.”
Ned drew his Colt. “I’m too young to be pincushioned with arrows.”
“For all we know it was a bear.”
“Bears like hills and mountains and woods, not prairies.”
“There are plains bears too. Most have been killed off, like the buffalo, but some are still around.”
“You’re sayin’ that to scare me,” Ned said. “You know I’m as fond of bears as you are of snakes. I was mauled once, if you recollect.”
“Yes, you told—” Thal stopped.
Out on the plain figures moved. Riders, passing like phantoms in the night.
“Comanches!” Ned whispered.
Thal couldn’t tell much other than the riders were in single file, as Comanches liked to do. He guessed they were a couple of hundred yards out, if that, and was doubly glad he’d insisted on not making a fire.
A low nicker about made his heart stop.
Thal spun. His chestnut must have smelled the other horses. Rising and tucking at the knees, he ran down and rushed over to place his hand over the chestnut’s muzzle. “Enough out of you,” he said in the animal’s ear.
Ned stayed on the rim awhile. When he finally descended, he announced, “They’re gone, and good riddance.”
Thal let go of the chestnut. “We’d better keep watch. I’ll go first and you can go second unless you’d rather it was the other way around.”
“Fine by me,” Ned replied, “but it’s early yet to turn in.”
They resumed their meal.
Thal barely tasted his beans. The close shave had reminded him of how perilous the wilds were. It wasn’t like back East, where things were so tamed down a man could go around without a firearm or even a knife and not be in fear for his life. The West would be like that one day, some believed, and truth to tell, Thal wouldn’t mind. He wasn’t Jesse Lee. The prospect of a shooting affray didn’t excite him one bit. He’d be content to live out the rest of days without ever having to shoot anyone, hostiles included.
“What are you thinkin’ about?” Ned asked. “Your sister?”
“Not her again.”
“Then what? Your brother?”
“I’m thinkin’ how much I like to breathe,” Thal said. “I don’t want to die this young. There’s a lot of life I haven’t lived yet.”
“That’s the spirit,” Ned said, grinning. “It’s exactly what I’ve been talkin’ about.”
“No, you want to waltz all over creation. That’s not the same thing.”
“Are you pokin’ fun at my dancin’ again?”
“No. Why?”
“You said ‘waltz.’”
Thal sighed. “There are days when I wonder why I took you for a pard.”
“That’s easy,” Ned said. “Because I’m popular with the ladies and you’re not.”
“You and your fillies,” Thal said. “There is more to life than females.”
“Oh, Thalis,” Ned said with mock gravity. “You worry me. You truly do. Without females there wouldn’t be any life. Or any romance. The way they walk, the way they laugh, how their eyes twinkle when they’re playful, those red lips of theirs. Don’t you know that females help make life worth livin’?”
“What I know,” Thal said, “is that if you so much as wink at my sister, I’ll shoot you.”
Chapter 6
Salina, Kansas. In its early days, life was precarious. Its residents had to fend off hostile war parties, and later, during the Civil War, an attack by guerillas. After the war, Salina boomed.
The Kansas Pacific Railroad had a lot to do with the growth of Salina’s economy. It turned Salina into a shipping hub for cattle. Almost overnight, as it were, Salina became a rowdy cow town. But the saloons and the fallen doves didn’t sit well with the majority of Salina’s everyday folk, who weren’t upset at all when the cattlemen t
ook their trade elsewhere.
Salina became a farming hub instead. Wheat was grown in abundance. So was alfalfa, thanks to a local resident who saw its potential.
Nowadays, Salina was as peaceable as a town could be. Flour mills provided employment for a large workforce. Her churches were well attended. They had a school. Their law officers discouraged riffraff from staying. The worst problem Salina had was invasions of grasshoppers.
There were worse places to grow up than a God-fearing community like Salina.
“So this is where you’re from?” Ned Leslie remarked as they rode down Main Street.
“I was five or so when my pa moved here,” Thal replied. “Back then, Salina wasn’t much more than a trading post. It even had a stockade at one time.”
“What do they for entertainment? Listen to the grass grow?”
“Poke fun all you want,” Thal said. “Salina is as civilized as anywhere. Take a gander at the new wooden sidewalks.”
“Sidewalks don’t impress me much. Saloons do. I ain’t seen a single one yet. What do they do? Hide them?”
“We’re not Dodge City. We don’t go for rowdy behavior.”
“It looks to me like you don’t go for any behavior beside walkin’ around smilin’ at each other.”
“We don’t have time to drink anyway,” Thal said. “We’re goin’ straight to my pa’s place.”
“My throat wouldn’t mind a sip or two. We’ve been ridin’ for days and days.”
“The sooner I talk to my sister, the better. She might have heard word from Myles since she wrote me.”
“I forgot about her,” Ned said. “You’re right. Let’s forget the coffin varnish and go pay a visit.”
“I won’t tell you again to behave.”
Ned grinned. “I’ll be as gentlemanly as can be.”
“You better.”
Their horses were tired or Thal would have gone at a gallop. He was impatient to see his family again. Not once down in Texas had he been homesick, but he was now.
A rush of recollections filled his head, stirring fond memories. Milking the cows, collecting eggs from the chicken coop, the plowing and the planting and the harvesting, Thal had helped with all of it and would have made a good farmer. He’d disappointed his pa and ma terribly when he announced that he had heard so much about the cowboy life he’d like to try it awhile and see if it agreed with him.
Ralph Compton Brother's Keeper Page 4
