North to the Salt Fork

by Ralph Compton

  “I guess you tell that to all the folks traveling through here.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Listen, Hiram. I fought four years for the Confederacy. That’s over, but I ain’t being run off anywhere by any old goat that’s set himself up as the so-called law.”

  “You’d be wise to heed my words, sir.”

  “I’d probably be wise to shoot you off that horse and tell God that you died going to church this morning.”

  “Watch your tongue. I’ll allow no slander about the Lord.”

  “I’m not slandering God nor anyone else but you. And if you think for one minute you can ride down here and order me off, then you’ve been smoking opium. I’ll ride where I want to ride and stay where I want to stay. Now get on to your services before they have to hold your funeral.”

  “You shall regret this day, sir.”

  “Hiram, I’ll regret lots of things, but one of them won’t be because I ran from you.”

  The fire on Sawyer’s face was obvious. He jerked his horse around and in a huff rode off in the same direction he’d come.

  Had the old SOB come all the way out here to make him clear out? Or was he simply interested in Mrs. Thornton and didn’t want any competition? Snooty old devil—he’d bear to watch. Jack reminded himself that cowards like Hiram always hired professionals to do their dirty work—that would make it harder too, until he came to know the faces and names of his back stabbers.

  Still upset by Sawyer’s challenge, he went and saddled the stout red roan horse he called Mac and took off his hobbles. He tied his bedroll with his housekeeping gear wrapped up inside behind him. Anger festered by the minute over the man’s orders that he leave the country. How powerful could Sawyer be? Major rancher? Banker? Political leader? Or just one of those men that thought God had put him in charge and no one wanted to challenge his authority?

  He checked the sun time, figured it was midmorning, and headed for the falls on Lost Dog Creek. The falls spilled over with less than a foot drop off a well-worn limestone outcropping, pure and clean. After Mac took a deep drink, they headed west on the road for Mrs. Thornton’s place and the D-T brand she said would be on the gate.

  When he arrived Jack dismounted under the arch of the gate and smiled at all the D-T’s burned in the lumber. He opened it, led his horse through, closed it and remounted, heading north up a wide, grassy swale. Good cow country. Running water that bisected such great land pleased him.

  He topped the ridge and could see the cottonwood trees surrounding the house, corrals, sheds and a creaky windmill, plus some rail-fenced cropland. It was a nice layout and he felt a little jealous that she owned such a homey place. Dogs began to bark and a girl, around fifteen years old, with her mother’s brown hair in abundant braids, came and stood in the open, shading her eyes with her hands to better see what made the stock dogs bark.

  “Maw! Maw! It must be him,” she shouted at the house.

  Drying her hands on her apron, Lucille joined her daughter in the yard. Coming off the hill, Jack could see her head bob in agreement. Then she herded her daughter back toward the house. He rounded the corral and noticed a frisky pony galloping around in the pen; Jack figured this must’ve been the source of the boy’s broken leg. Mac did a foot-shuffling gait, obviously excited about their arrival at Lucille’s place.

  He dropped off Mac at the hitch rail, removed his hat and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. The temperature was rising.

  “Good afternoon,” Lucille said with a smile from the porch.

  He checked the sun time. “Am I late?”

  “No, you’re right on time. Come in. There’s hot water in the basin if you want to wash up.”

  “Thanks,” he said, wrapping the reins on the rack.

  He hung his hat and jacket on the porch wall pegs and set about to soaping his hands. When he looked up, Lucille’s girl was holding out a tin can for him.

  “I’m Tally,” she said. “I have some tea. It’s pretty cool, but not icy like the lemonade last night. I know how cold that gets.”

  “Oh yes,” he replied, thinking about how refreshing some of that ice-cold lemonade would be now. “Why don’t you call me Captain,” he said, drying his hands and face on the towel.

  “I will, Captain Starr.”

  “On second thought, that sounds too formal.” He took the can and sipped the sweetened tea.

  “Maw would want me to call you Mr. Starr.”

  He reached out and hugged her shoulder. “Darling, we better work this out.”

  She laughed. “She told us you weren’t stuck-up, even though you were an officer in the war and all.”

  “Tally,” Lucille said, sounding shocked after hearing Tally’s words from the kitchen.

  “She’s fine,” Jack reassured her. “Is this Luke, the bronc rider?” he asked of the boy who sat with his left leg in a cast across two chairs. He appraised Jack suspiciously, then nodded a quick confirmation. Jack reached out and shook the youth’s calloused hand. “Good to meet you.”

  “Same here,” Luke said, firmly gripping the captain’s hand.

  The room smelled of fresh-cooked food, and the large table was set for four. Jack was about to take a seat when he realized he was still wearing his gun belt. He handed Tally the can of tea and unbuckled it. “Excuse me.”

  He went to hang the gun set on a coat peg by the door. There was a Winchester rifle over the door and a shotgun standing up beside the door frame. Lucille must be a capable woman, he thought, if she could handle guns like these. Then again, with two children and no man, she had to be.

  “How have you been?” he said to Lucille.

  “Fine, now that you found us all right.” She patted the back of a chair and said, “Come sit. You’re at the head of the table.”

  Jack smiled with pleasure. “May I seat you two ladies first?”

  She broke into a smile. “I reckon.”

  He helped both of them, then took his place. “What about Luke?” he asked, gesturing to the boy, who hadn’t moved from his resting place.

  “I can eat over here. I’ll be fine, sir.”

  “So long as you don’t starve.” He shared a wink with the boy. But he was hardly a boy; many men in his outfit during the war had been no older than Luke.

  “I’ll fix him a plate,” Tally said.

  “Good. We have to take care of our disabled troopers.”

  Lucille filled Jack’s coffee cup, and made sure that he had the first serving of everything. As she hovered over him with a bowl of mashed potatoes, he gently stopped her. “I eat mess with the troopers. Don’t fuss over me.”

  “We don’t get a guest very often,” Lucille said.

  “I hope I’m not a guest, but a friend you’ve invited in for dinner.”

  She smiled, set the mashed potatoes next to his plate and took her place beside him, placing a napkin in her lap. “After you say grace, you’re on your own,” she said wryly.

  The kids laughed.

  “Let us pray. . . .” He reached out and placed his left hand over hers. It had been a while since he’d been singled out to do this job.

  “Father, we’re gathered together here today for our noon meal in fellowship. We’re grateful for all the food and the fine weather. Heal Luke’s leg quickly so he can go back to enjoying his life. Bring us some rain down the valley for the grass and crops. And, Lord, let us live in peace. Thank you again for our friends and help us forgive our enemies. In Jesus’ name, amen. Now pass the gravy, please.”

  Everyone nodded in approval. He’d passed the first test.

  As everyone busily filled their plates, Jack decided to mention his earlier encounter. “I ran into a man this morning. Hiram Sawyer.” He checked all their faces for a reaction.

  Tally scowled. Luke made a sour look, and Lucille glanced up at him while buttering her bread. “What did he say?”

  “I guess I didn’t have the right papers to stay in this country. He told me to light a shuck.”
>
  “He did?” Lucille blinked her doe brown eyes in disbelief. “Why?”

  “Seems my kind ain’t welcome up here.”

  “Kind? What kind did he say you were?”

  He shrugged. “I must have failed some test of his.”

  “Oh no,” Lucille said and rose up in righteousness. “He has no right to threaten you.”

  “What did you do to him?” Luke asked with a snicker, but his mother’s frown silenced him.

  “What did I consider doing to him, or what did I really do?”

  Tally started laughing and the laughter became contagious.

  Jack wiped his mouth on the napkin before he spoke. “I told him I sure wasn’t leaving on his account.”

  “Maw, tell him about what you did to Hiram,” Luke said.

  Lucille stiffened and slowly lowered her knife and fork. “Three years ago, the day I got word that their father had been killed in service to his country, Hiram appeared at my door, ready for me to sign the ranch and everything else over to him. He must have followed the soldier that brought us the news. He said he was calling in the loan Felton, my husband, had made. He assumed since I was a widow that I couldn’t pay it, and he was taking over the property.”

  Jack looked over at her with a hard scowl. “What did you do?”

  “I paid him every dime in Confederate money and he had to take it. The money was still good back then. He was the most shocked man in Texas that day.”

  “How much did you owe him?”

  “Two hundred and fifty.”

  A chuckle came from deep in his throat. “And I bet he still has that money in his safe.”

  “Ain’t any good now, is it?” Luke asked.

  “Not worth a dime,” Jack confirmed.

  “So now you know all about Hiram Sawyer,” Lucille said. “You’ve met one of this family’s biggest enemies.”

  “But that’s not all, Maw. Tell him about the other thing. Tell him.” Tally elbowed her mother.

  “There isn’t anything to tell,” Lucille said, her face flushing a delicate pink. Jack observed her closely and looked back and forth between the kids.

  “Yes, there is,” Luke said with a big know-it-all grin.

  Lucille sighed. “Sometime back, Hiram came calling, armed with a bouquet of flowers and candy. Said he was there to make amends. I never invited him off his horse. I told him it wasn’t necessary because I wasn’t excusing him for his bad manners.”

  “Tell him what you did next,” Luke said, egging her on.

  Looking peeved, Lucille glared at her son, but decided to go on anyway. “I reached in, grabbed the twelve-gauge and fired it over his head.” Jack leaned back in his chair, amazed at the woman’s sheer bravado.

  “And, Captain, that horse about bucked him off as it ran for the gate,” Tally said, clapping her hands together in delight.

  Jack leaned forward and gently rubbed Lucille’s hand to reassure her. “You did just fine. He had it coming.”

  “We were sure glad he dropped the candy.” Luke was laughing so hard that tears ran down his tanned face.

  “What did you do with the bouquet?” Jack asked between choruses.

  “Luke’s dog, Russel, got it and tore it to shreds,” Tally said. “I mean, that collie had a fit about it.”

  Jack sat back in his chair, letting out a laugh of his own. “Then I don’t feel bad about sending him down the road this morning.”

  Not that he wasn’t worried about future run-ins with the jilted man. If there was a fly in the ointment, it would be Hiram Sawyer.

  Chapter 3

  There was lots to fix around the Thorntons’ ranch with Luke laid up, so Lucille didn’t turn down Jack’s offer to trade work for his keep. There was a spare bedroom in a shed where part-time hired hands stayed, but it had been empty for a while. That afternoon the women swept down the cobwebs, scrubbed the dirt floor and fixed the place up while he spent time with Luke.

  “You have any crutches?” he asked the boy.

  Luke made a face. “No, I’m confined to a chair most days.”

  “Well, then, I’m loading you in a wheelbarrow, and we’re going down to that workshop I saw near the barn to make you some.”

  Luke gave a big grin. “That’d sure be alright with me.”

  The shop, Jack found, was well equipped for blacksmith and carpentry work and just about anything else. He made sticks from some lumber he found and sanded smooth. After taking Luke’s measurements, he fashioned saddlelike pieces to go under the boy’s armpits. Luke sat in the wheelbarrow, absently petting two stock dogs that came into the shop, looking for company.

  “You sure can do lots of things with wood,” Luke marveled. “But I’m more interested in horseshoeing. Could you teach me?”

  “We can work on it. I’m not an expert, but I could try.”

  Luke sighed. “Dad always did it, before he was gone. I wished I’d learned more from him.”

  “I know,” Jack said wistfully. “Boys never pay attention enough to what their fathers try to teach them. I was no different. But you can’t take it back—you just have to learn from it. Now, let’s try this crutch deal.”

  He helped Luke out of the wheelbarrow and stood him upright, fitting the crutches under his arms. “Take your time. They weren’t meant for running. I know you can go faster than they want to. Just be patient.”

  Soon Luke was easily crossing the length of the shop. His mother leaned against the doorframe and shook her head. “You made it so he can get around, huh?”

  “A boy wasn’t made that couldn’t be helped.” Jack admired his charge.

  “Well, Luke,” Tally said, coming in behind her mother. “Now that you can get around so well, maybe you can go back to milking that dang old cow.”

  “Not yet,” Lucille said sternly. “I’m still going to rely on you for that, young lady.”

  “Ah, Maw,” Tally said with a sour look on her face.

  “Your room is ready when you want to move in,” Lucille said to Jack, changing the subject.

  “I’ll have all my stuff in there by dark.” Jack smiled at her. “Thanks.”

  “No, thank you for the crutches,” she said, holding Jack’s gaze for a moment before turning away. “Let’s go find some supper.” She led the parade back to the house.

  Tally ran into the house with Luke hobbling after her while Lucille lingered at the porch to wait for Jack. “I left some of Felton’s clothes on the bed for you. I could wash yours tomorrow.”

  “That would be nice. They sure could use it.”

  “Not a problem. By the way, I can tell Luke was very proud of his crutches.”

  “Well, he’s a good kid. They both are,” Jack said, brushing aside the compliment.

  “Oh, they can be a handful,” she responded with a laugh.

  “You manage it well.” He stopped in the sundown’s red light and looked around. How long would he be able to stay? Would Sawyer try to run him off her place after the shotgun welcome she gave him?

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “I wonder what Sawyer’s got on his mind now. What’s that small town I rode through on my way to the schoolhouse dance?”

  “Shedville?”

  “I reckon.”

  “About eight miles east.”

  “On the fur side of Lost Dog Falls?”

  She laughed and went to get him some hot water to wash up with. “Why do you ask? You plan on paying the town a visit anytime soon?” she called from the other room.

  Jack wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell Lucille that he planned to ride into town and learn all he could about Sawyer. Jack had made himself an enemy, but he wasn’t sure how tough a one he’d be. He’d need to find out.

  “No reason,” he casually replied. “Just thought I’d get some supplies. So, what’re we eating for supper tonight?”

  “Chicken again. I warn you: we eat a lot of it in this house.”

  “No problem. I get to crowing, you’ll know
I’ve had enough.” They shared a chuckle, but his mind was still on Sawyer.

  Chapter 4

  Jack awoke suddenly in the middle of the night and shot bolt upright in bed, straining to hear what sounded as if it was a hard-ridden horse coming up to the ranch. What time was it, and who’d come at this ungodly hour? Something must be wrong. He threw back the light blanket and quickly dressed in one of Lucille’s husband’s shirts and canvas pants, buckled on his six-gun and headed for the house under the stars.

  When he rounded the corner of the front porch he heard a man on a hard-breathing cow pony, talking to Lucille. “Jack, listen to Craig Ketchem here. He came over to tell us some real bad news,” Lucille said with a worried look on her face.

  Jack and Craig exchanged quick nods. “They burned out Jason Holmes tonight on Owl Mountain. They kilt him and his wife. Took all of his good horses.”

  “Who do you suppose did it?” Jack asked.

  “Comanches, we think,” Craig said angrily.

  “Strange time of year for them, isn’t it? They usually come after their buffalo hunts in the fall.”

  “Them bloodthirsty devils don’t care,” Craig sneered. “They’ll show up anytime they need the loot.”

  “You’re right, but I need to see this for myself. Figure out if there’s anything that can be done. You’ve had Comanche trouble in this area before?”

  “Oh yeah, lots of it,” Craig confirmed.

  “Lucille, I’ll be back,” Jack called over his shoulder as he headed toward the barn with Craig. “I’m going to ready my horse.”

  “I’ll pack you some food,” she called back.

  “That’d be much appreciated.” He turned to Craig. “How far away is this place?”

  “Five miles west.”

  “Can you take me there?” Jack asked the rancher.

  “Sure, but I wanted to tell—”

  “Lucille and Tally will tell the others,” Jack said reassuringly. When Lucille followed a few minutes later with sandwiches, she wholeheartedly agreed to Jack’s plan. “You two see what you can do about those killers. The Holmeses were good people, Jack. Both of them.”