by Anna Schmidt
“I’m right here, Nell,” he said, kissing her back. “It’s over, okay?”
But it was not that simple. They walked arm in arm to the buggy, and he helped her in before climbing onto the driver’s seat and unwrapping the reins. Until herders and ranchers could find a way to coexist, none of this would ever truly be over.
Nine
Over the summer, Trey was gone more than he was home, and Nell was forced to adjust to life on the ranch without him. Following Javier’s funeral, her husband took on Javier’s role as foreman and rode with the hired hands as they prepared to take their stock to market and all that entailed. In addition, newborns needed to be branded and counted, strays rounded up, and the Porterfield stock moved to higher, cooler pastures with the rest. Trey and his men had managed to round up a couple hundred sheep that had survived the stampede, but that was not enough to assure Lottie’s ranch would survive.
Amanda and Seth had returned to Tucson, and while Addie continued to stop by as she made her rounds, she rarely stayed to visit with Nell as she had before. Javier’s parents were cordial, but Nell understood. Every time they looked at her, she reminded them of their son’s death. She spent much of her day with Joshua in the library and evenings alone in the room she shared with Trey.
Increased patrols from the fort and the arrest of two cowhands who had been caught rustling sheep from a herder’s flock—men who worked for Peter Collins—kept incidents of vandalism and harassment to a minimum. By early October, an uneasy truce had settled over the region. In addition to his work with the herd, Trey had begun visiting his neighbors. This time, he did not call on them to tell them what he thought. Rather, he went to listen while each rancher laid out his reasons for believing a truce between herders and cattlemen was unlikely. Nell could always tell how a particular meeting had gone by Trey’s posture as he unsaddled his horse and walked to the house. More often than not, his step was slow and his body hunched with exhaustion. And yet once he saw her and Juanita waiting for him, he always grinned and teased them about having better things to do than keep a lookout for him. He would kiss each of them on the cheek and announce he was hungry enough to eat a horse. Nell understood that he was still trying to earn Juanita’s forgiveness. Not only did he blame himself for Javier’s death, but he was convinced that the housekeeper would never fully absolve him.
But when he and Nell were alone, standing at Javier’s graveside as was Trey’s nightly habit, she saw the weariness that bordered on defeat as he told her about his meeting and worried that he was failing at giving Javier’s death some meaning. Later when he peeled off his shirt and sat on the bed to pull off his boots, she would kneel behind him and massage his bare back and shoulders. Finally, the knots of tension she felt under his skin would unravel, and in time, he would lie back on the pillows and pull her into his arms.
“Ah, Nellie, it’s so hard to make a man who thinks he’s in the right see another possibility.” He was frustrated by the way the same old arguments spooled out every time. “I just can’t seem to break through that.”
She would let him talk until his exhaustion overcame him and he fell asleep. After that, she would lie next to him, wide awake, wondering what she might do to help.
Night after night, this became their routine. In the predawn hours, usually just after she had returned from checking on Joshua, Trey would hold out his arms to her, and she would snuggle against him. They kissed, and the kisses grew in passion. They would find release from the troubles that stalked them during the day in the tenderness they lavished on each other in the night. In his embrace, Nell felt safe and cherished. With each passing day, and in spite of everything that had happened, Nell refused to believe that marrying Trey had been a mistake. The timing perhaps, but not the union.
And in that certainty, she found renewed strength and self-confidence, so much so that one morning early in October as she dressed after Trey had left for the day, Nell came to a decision. There were two sides in this fight. There would be no point, even if Trey convinced the other cattle ranchers to see things his way, unless the herders came to the same conclusion. But no one was visiting them or listening to them. And the truth was, with Henry gone, she couldn’t think of anyone among them who would take on that task.
“Well, I am still a landowner,” she muttered as she dressed. “And so is Lottie. What if the women…”
But was she? What proof did she have? And what about Lottie? Were there documents to prove her ownership—or Lottie’s? The last time she and her sister-in-law had been together, the parting had been anything but cordial, at least on Lottie’s part. Of course, they would have to prove they held ownership, and that might be difficult given that the lawyer who had drawn up the deed had closed his office in Whitman Falls and moved farther west.
“Ma?”
Joshua stood at the open door to her bedroom. He was dressed in canvas trousers, a chambray shirt, a vest Trey had given him, and the narrow-brimmed straw hat his father had always worn.
“Don’t you look a picture?” she said as she hugged him.
“Could we go out today? I’m really doing good and—”
“You’re doing well,” she corrected. “That’s true, but—”
“Ah, Ma, please don’t say I need to watch myself. I’m tired of always being cooped up here. Please can we just go someplace else today?”
And suddenly, Nell knew how she would approach Lottie. Her sister-in-law’s hard feelings had not extended to Joshua, and it had been a challenge explaining to her son why he never saw his aunt or cousins these days.
“How would you like to go visit Aunt Lottie?”
His smile told her everything she needed to know. In spite of feelings they might harbor toward Nell, Trey’s family had treated her son with kindness, but Joshua missed the family he’d grown up with. In better times, he had idolized Ira and Spud, trailing after them like a puppy whenever he was allowed to visit. And for their part, the boys had made sure he was included in whatever they were doing, taking great care to see he didn’t overdo.
Her brother’s family had accused her of choosing sides, and she understood that. But while she loved Trey and found his family as warm and welcoming as could be expected given the circumstances, she could not simply forget the history and times she had shared with Calvin’s family and hers. No, she would not choose. Where Trey saw bringing the two sides together as the only possible solution for ending the range war, Nell’s purpose was far more personal. For Nell, reconciling the two sides was all about building a future for her son—one where he would not need to choose.
“Ma, can we go right after breakfast?”
“We can,” she agreed.
Joshua beamed. “I’ll go tell Nita,” he announced, already halfway to the kitchen.
Nell had tried without success to have Joshua address Juanita and Eduardo more formally, but Trey had insisted that giving them titles like Mr. and Mrs. Mendez would make them uncomfortable. When Nell had raised the topic with Juanita, she had agreed with Trey.
“I have always been Nita to the children in this house. There’s no reason for that to change.”
“But—”
“If it’s a lack of respect you see in that, stop your worrying. Joshua will not need to use a fancy title for me to know when he’s crossed a line. Isn’t that right, Trey?”
Trey’s cheeks had flared an embarrassed red, and he’d laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”
So Nita and Eduardo it was, and by the time Nell finished straightening the covers on Joshua’s bed and reached the kitchen, Juanita was already instructing her husband to go hitch up a buggy while she made a picnic lunch for the journey.
“The soldiers have been vigilant, and things are certainly quieter with everybody busy getting ready to take the stock to market, so you should be all right, but be sure you start back well before sundown. No reason to court trouble,” she instructed
Nell.
“We’ll be fine,” Nell assured her, mostly because Joshua was listening closely to the conversation, and his expression told her he had questions. “Finish up, Joshua, and let’s get going.”
Juanita handed her the picnic basket and surprised Nell by leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Take care, mi’ja,” she said softly. “When Trey gets back, I’ll send him to meet you.”
Nell wasn’t sure that was the best idea. But she was fairly certain that Trey would not be back for hours, so the chances were that if he came to meet them, they would be well on their way back by then. “Thank you, Nita—for everything.”
Along the way, Joshua kept up a constant stream of chatter about all the things he was planning to tell Ira and Spud about life on Trey’s ranch. He was fascinated by the cowboys and the way their work differed from that of the herders. Trey had given him a pinto pony of his own, and the hired hands had taken turns teaching Joshua how to handle it. At first, Nell had been afraid to allow the cowhands to have much interaction with her son. After all, how did she know one or more of these men weren’t responsible for the raids that had terrified them or the burning of their home? But so far, not one of them had given her cause to be concerned.
“Ma, is Ira going to jail again?”
Nell hesitated. “He has to stand before the judge first, and then the judge will decide his punishment.” A date for Ira’s trial had not been set—something about the circuit judge being too ill to travel. It had been months, and Trey saw that as a good sign.
“I been thinkin’,” Joshua said. “It seems to me like some of the ways the cowboys work might just work for herdin’ sheep. I mean to talk to Ira and Spud about that. If Ira has to go away for a while, Spud’s gonna have a lot to do all on his own. Maybe I could help.”
“You’ll want to temper any ideas like that with the understanding that you’ve seen those ways, Joshua. Your cousins have not, and for them, the way their father handled the flock is right. Go easy. Nobody likes to be told they’re doing something wrong.”
Joshua laughed. “I know that. The other day, I told Uncle Jess he ought to let Isaac help Rico over at the livery like he’s been wantin’ to. I said Isaac would make a fine blacksmith.”
“And what did your Uncle Jess say to that?”
“He got all red in the face the way he does sometimes when Aunt Addie fusses at him. ‘Boy, you need to mind your own business,’ he said in that way he talks when he’s being the marshal.”
“And what did you say to that?”
“I said ‘yessir’ just like you taught me.”
Nell smiled and hugged him to her. “Your pa would be so proud of you,” she said softly.
They were nearing the fork in the trail that would either take them on to Lottie’s or to their former home. “We’ve made good time,” Nell said. “How about we make a stop at our old place before going on to see Lottie and the boys?”
“Really?” His eyes told her he’d wanted to do just that but had been afraid to ask.
“Let’s go,” she said as she snapped the reins and took the trail to the right.
* * *
Trey had avoided calling on Pete Collins for as long as he could, hoping pressure from the other ranchers would bring him around. Earlier that spring, Colonel Ashwood had questioned Pete about the differences between his version of that day at Deadman’s Point and the testimony of the dead man’s son. Jess had told the family how Collins had hemmed and hawed about maybe being farther away than he’d first thought and how things could look different from a distance. In the end, he had retracted his accusations against Trey and apologized profusely to the colonel.
He had yet to apologize to Trey.
But Trey wasn’t after an apology. What he wanted was to assure himself that Pete intended to observe the uneasy peace. There had not been a single incident since the militia had stepped up patrols, and Trey wanted to keep things that way.
When he rode under the arches announcing the Collins spread, he saw the rancher talking to two of his hired hands. The three of them were so intent on their conversation, Trey was nearly upon them before they noticed. “Gentlemen,” he said, tipping his fingers to the brim of his hat before dismounting.
“Trey Porterfield, you’re a ways from home.” Pete stepped forward, his hand extended. The two cowboys nodded in Trey’s direction before returning to the bunkhouse.
Trey accepted the handshake. As he’d met with the other ranchers, he had become aware that the only rancher who had suffered loss of livestock or damage to property was Pete Collins. That seemed odd to Trey. “I was hoping we might talk, Pete.”
“Well, sure. I reckon that’s overdue, come to think of it. Guess we’ve both been busy. I mean, I’m hoping there’s no hard feelings between us, Trey. Your family and mine? Why, your brother and me were best friends once upon a time.”
His voice was too loud and his manner too overtly friendly. Trey decided to come to the point. “I’ve called on every cattle man in these parts, Pete, and most have come around to at least agreeing that we need to be of one mind in this business.”
Collins spit a stream of chewing tobacco on the ground and squinted at Trey. “I guess I don’t rightly catch your meaning.”
“Pete, we have got to find a compromise to living side by side with herders. They aren’t going away, and neither are we, so let’s work this out once and for all.”
Collins’s smile was at odds with the pure hatred Trey saw in the man’s eyes. “Look, everybody appreciates that you kind of inherited this job of managing the ranch once your sister and her husband took off for California. Truth is, our hearts went out to you. Like throwing you in the water and expecting you to swim.”
Trey returned the man’s tight smile. “Well now, I reckon I learned to swim almost before I could walk. That was something my pa made sure of. And if I understand what you’re trying to say under that pretty wrapping paper, most people around these parts are well aware that I’ve been herdin’ and roundin’ up cows since I was fourteen.”
“No doubt, my boy. But working a ranch and managing a business are different, and—”
Trey slapped Pete on the shoulder to take the edge off his reply. “Who you callin’ ‘boy’? You can’t be but maybe a year older than Jess, which makes neither one of you old enough to be my pa. Although I’ll grant you, Jess does try from time to time.”
All trace of a smile or hint of camaraderie vanished. Pete scowled at him. “What is it you want, Porterfield?”
“I already told you. I want you to sit down with me and the other ranchers and agree to get this thing worked out.”
“And what of the herders? What happens when they slaughter our cattle, cut our fences, poison our wells?”
“Then we deal with that—when it happens.”
“It already has. I lost half a dozen—”
“See now, Pete, that’s the thing. I was talking to the other ranchers, and they haven’t lost a single calf or steer. For that matter, neither have I. Only you. How come?”
“Ask your wife,” Pete said and sneered.
Every muscle in Trey’s body stiffened, and he clenched his fists so tight, they felt like rocks. “My wife is not part of this discussion, Collins,” he said quietly.
“The hell she isn’t. Don’t get me wrong. I get why you chased after her. She’s a real looker with a body that would give any man ideas. But if you’d used your noggin to do your thinkin’ instead of your—”
He didn’t finish his thought, because Trey smashed his fist into the man’s leering face. The two cowboys came running and grabbed Trey as he stood over Collins.
“Let him go, boys,” Pete said as he staggered to his feet and wiped the blood running from his nose with the back of one hand. He stepped forward so close that Trey could smell the onions he’d eaten earlier. “Now you listen to me, Porterfield.
Your pa ran this territory like he owned it all, but that’s changed. I’m the one running things now, and I say the herders have to go. You got that?”
“Or what? You and your boys here will burn them out?”
“It’s worked before. Now git off my land.” He stepped back and accepted a bandana from one of his men, pressing it against his swollen nose. The man wasn’t even trying to deny his role in burning down Nell’s house.
Trey paused before climbing into the saddle. “You know, that house and land once belonged to a friend of yours.”
“Yeah, and George Johnson must be rollin’ over in his grave knowin’ his wife sold out to a bunch of herders. They was the ones defiled the place, not…whoever set it on fire.”
Trey started to ride away.
“Hey, Porterfield,” one of the hired hands shouted when he had almost reached the arched gate that marked Collins’s land. “Watch yourself out there. It’s comin’ on dark, and you never know about snipers and such.”
He heard the other hand howl with laughter as he rode on.
Pete and his men were so sure of themselves, they had just pretty much owned up to committing most of the damage done, up to and including taking shots at him and burning down Nell’s house. Trey was also more certain than ever that Pete had ordered some of his own stock slaughtered and fences cut to make it look like the work of sheep ranchers. This was no widespread range war. This was a war between Pete Collins and anyone who dared oppose his will.
* * *
Instead of pulling the buggy under the shade of a cluster of trees on the rise overlooking her property, Nell drove all the way down to where, if the house were there, guests would have stopped outside the fenced yard. The gate was half off its hinges and hung lopsided and open.
“Come on,” she said quietly as she climbed down and slowly walked up the path to the pile of rubble she and Joshua had once called home.
The fire had long ago gone out, but the stench of it clung to the charred furnishings. The fireplace and chimney stood exposed, their clay casings black with smoke. A layer of soot covered everything. Pieces of broken crockery that had fallen when the roof caved in crunched underfoot as Nell picked her way through the wreckage. She rescued a silver framed photo of Calvin and clutched it to her chest as she continued surveying her property. Her property, she thought. Hers to do with as she pleased. She had signed no papers before Henry’s untimely death, so this land belonged to her and to Joshua.
