Holding Their Own: The Salt War

by Joe Nobody

  They rode on in, Bishop dismounting just inside the main gate and handing his reins to one of the cowboys. His only thoughts were of Terri and his son.

  Chapter 11

  Terri was making her bed when she heard the floor creak behind her. Subconsciously reaching for the pistol resting on the bedside table, she jumped when a familiar voice said, “I know I’ve been away for a while… are you really mad enough to shoot me?”

  “Bishop!” she shouted, rushing to his arms.

  He lifted her off the ground, spinning in circles of joy. “I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my life,” he said honestly. “You don’t know how much I’ve worried about….”

  Terri smacked his chest with her hand, interrupting his words. “Don’t you ever take off and leave me alone again or I’ll…” she began, but then stopped, staring into his eyes.

  She kissed him passionately for several moments, then abruptly pulled away and struck him again. “If you ever….” The protest was stopped short, her lips returning to his.

  Hunter soon joined in the family embrace, the three of them forming a triangle of hugging and kissing. Bishop couldn’t remember ever feeling so good.

  The sound of someone in the hall clearing his throat interrupted the reunion. Bishop and Terri turned to see Mr. Culpepper standing outside Terri’s room.

  Tipping his hat, the old rancher said, “I hate to break in like this, but I’m getting ready to head out to the east fence. I was wondering if I might have a word with my new guest before I leave.”

  Bishop extended his hand and introduced himself. Mr. Culpepper responded in kind, showing the younger man a firm, confident grip.

  The two men ambled to the front porch, Terri staying beside her husband, not about to be left out. If Culpepper was bothered by her presence, he didn’t show it.

  “First of all, I want to thank you for returning my man. Reed’s been with me for a long time and losing him would have been agonizing.”

  Bishop smiled, “I was just saving both our hides. Wasn’t any big deal, Mr. Culpepper.”

  “What can you tell me about the Tejanos? Are they planning any sort of major attack in the next few days? How are they holding up? Things like that.”

  Sighing, Bishop looked the older man straight on. “I really didn’t see much. I saved their leader’s life the night of the ambush. In return, he let me live after his men arrived. I wasn’t a prisoner, but then again, I wasn’t an honored guest. Since he believed I didn’t fight or ride with your outfit, I was just someone passing through.”

  “Do they think they’re winning?” came the real question, the same inquiry every weary general wanted to know during difficult campaigns.

  “Yes, the people do. But my read on Rocco is that he knows it’s a stalemate, just like you.”

  Culpepper wasn’t used to someone putting words in his mouth, especially like those just aired by a stranger in his house. He started to reprimand his new guest, but then changed his mind. Bishop was right, and they both knew it.

  “So Mr. Culpepper, here’s the deal. I’m going to take my wife and son, along with those two horses I returned, and we’re going to ride to Meraton. I’ll send the horses back to you.”

  “Now just a damn minute, son. You just got here… just rode in on my animals and are standing under my roof. And you’re already telling me how it’s going to be?”

  Bishop glanced at Terri, his question needing no words. He doesn’t know about my role in the Alliance, came the unspoken message. And I don’t want him to.

  Sighing, Bishop looked back at their host. “Mr. Culpepper, I mean no offense, but if we don’t get back to a friendly town pretty soon, our friends are going to come looking for us. There will be a lot of men combing the countryside… and they won’t be overly friendly to anyone who objects to their search. If they end up between you and the Tejanos, who knows how many innocent people, on all sides, could get hurt?”

  Again, Bishop managed to raise Culpepper’s ire. There was a thinly understated attempt at intimidation in that last statement, and the rancher didn’t like being threatened.

  “I don’t give a shit who comes looking for whom, anyone comes trespassing on my land is going to meet the business end of our rifles,” the older man spouted.

  Terri stepped between the two men, attempting to restore calm. “Mr. Culpepper, you’ve been a kind and generous host, but I’m sure you don’t want to be responsible for feeding Hunter and me forever. My husband is only trying to say that there will be a lot of people worrying needlessly about us if we don’t get back soon. Some of them are hotheads and might get a little passionate if they think we are in danger or have been mistreated. Wouldn’t your friends and employees feel the same way? We just don’t see any need to add stress to anyone’s lives.”

  Bishop would have grunted if the conversation hadn’t been of a critical nature. His spouse, as usual, had used her charm and diplomatic prowess to rescue his blunt honesty. He could tell from the rancher’s expression that Terri’s logic had defused the old man’s wrath.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Culpepper finally responded. “But I want to think about things for a bit before I let you two go gallivanting across the desert with a couple of my horses. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. Please accept my hospitality until then.”

  The couple returned to Terri’s room in silence, Bishop closing the door to keep their conversation private. “Sorry about that, I should have let you deal with him from the get go.”

  “So… we both have a lot of catching up to do. You go first.”

  Bishop spent the next 20 minutes describing his adventures since their separation. She sat and listened intently, only occasionally asking for clarification on a specific point.

  After he had finished, Bishop scooped up Hunter and began bouncing the blissful boy on his knee. “Your turn,” he stated flatly.

  Terri’s tale took less time, much of the duration spent at the ranch.

  Both expressed their frustration at not being able to arrive at a solution to the ongoing range war they had bumbled into.

  “I don’t trust our host,” Bishop stated, changing the subject. “After our little interaction a moment ago, I get the feeling he’s just as desperate at the Tejanos. I wouldn’t put it past him to try and hold us for some sort of ransom or payoff.”

  Much to Bishop’s surprise, Terri agreed with his analysis of the ranch’s owner. “I think you’re right. But here’s the real news from this side of the trenches. This war has been going on for so long, our friend Culpepper no longer believes peace is possible. The only end to this mess that he can see is the complete genocide of the Tejanos.”

  Bishop grunted, “Same goes for Rocco over on the other side. They’re fighting based on hatred and events that occurred before any of the current generation was born. When I asked him if he could envision an armistice in his people’s future, he admitted he couldn’t.”

  Again, Terri surprised her husband. “Well, one thing’s for certain. Hunter and I don’t want to be hostages. Let’s get our things packed up, rustle a couple of horses, and get the hell out of dodge.”

  “Whoa, there little cowgirl. Just hold your powder for a minute. We can’t just meander out to the barn and abscond with a man’s livestock. We’re going to need water, food, and diapers. We’ll be riding through some very dry terrain for quite some time before we reach Meraton.”

  “I’ve made friends with the lady who runs the kitchen,” Terri said in a low, confidential voice. “She’ll help me gather whatever supplies we need.”

  Bishop exhaled, his mind wandering to the next problem – viable transportation. “I just saved one of the foremen from being skinned alive,” he announced. “Maybe he can arrange for us to borrow a couple of steeds.”

  “Even though Mr. Culpepper ordered us to wait here?”

  “Well, he didn’t specifically order us, if I recall correctly. I believe he suggested we be his guests,” Bishop replied with a touch
of deception inflected in his voice.

  Terri rolled her eyes, “Whatever. Do what you have to, Bishop…. Just get us out of here. I really, seriously think it’s wise that we leave.”

  “Let’s try for tonight. It will be cooler then, and I hear the stars provide a wonderful view out this way.”

  Terri demanded Bishop wash up before he slept in “her” bed. Mumbling uncertainties about the wisdom of marriage and commitment, the Texan took a dip in the adjoining bathroom’s tub, buckets of hot water hauled in from the kitchen.

  After drying off and ignoring the ring of dirt at the waterline, he was further frustrated to find his clothes had disappeared. “They smelled like an old army mule,” Terri stated firmly. “They’ll be back by the time you eat and get some rest.”

  Sitting on the bed, wrapped in a towel, Bishop wolfed down some excellent stew, the hot meal accented with oven fresh bread and slices of prickly pears. The experience made his eyelids heavy, and in a short time, he was in a deep sleep.

  Terri’s rustling around the room woke her husband several hours later. She was busy packing two bags, one for her, the other for Hunter. “You’d better get to work on our horses,” she reminded. “It will be dark in a few hours. I’ve got all of our stuff ready. Your clothes are over there.”

  Bishop found his garments clean, soft, and smelling like sunshine. He had to admit, it felt good to put on duds that wouldn’t stand in the corner by themselves.

  He found Reed in the bunkhouse, sporting two bandages on his face and a wrapping around his ribs. “They want me to stay in bed for a few days,” the cowboy complained. “I’m afraid the boredom will be the end of me.”

  “Sorry to interrupt your beauty rest, but Terri and I have decided we need to head out tonight. Mr. Culpepper isn’t around, so I thought you might be well enough to help in getting a couple of horses ready.”

  “Sure,” replied the hand, his legs coming off the bunk. “Let me get on a shirt and boots, and we’ll head over to the tack room.”

  A few moments later the two men approached the main stables, Bishop with a saddle on each shoulder, Reed complaining that he wasn’t hurt so bad as to be unable to fetch leather. Still, he hadn’t protested too much when the other man had hefted the load.

  The armed guard standing duty didn’t even bother to challenge Reed, instead greeting his co-worker with a friendly, “Glad to see you back,” and a nod of his head.

  They entered the stables, Reed trailing down the long row of stalls until he found what he was looking for. “This is Bluebird,” he said, pointing to a healthy looking mare. “She is gentle and not easily spooked. I think she’s a good match for your wife and child.”

  They continued for a few more cubicles and then stopped, both men standing in front of the same horse Bishop had ridden the night before. “This is Zeus,” Reed introduced. “He’s strong and knows you now. He’ll get you to where you’re going.”

  Twenty minutes later, Bishop was leading the two horses to the ranch’s main house. Terri was waiting there, Bishop’s pack, rifle, and assorted luggage sitting nearby.

  They rode out at dusk, passing through the rings of security surrounding the ranch without incident.

  When they were a few miles to the north, Terri spurred Bluebird in order to ride beside her husband. “Doesn’t it strike you a little odd that no one even challenged us?”

  Bishop shook his head, “No, not at all. The sentries are there to keep people from getting in, not getting out. I didn’t really expect any trouble.”

  “So what are we going to do when we get back?”

  Bishop chanced a glance at his wife, flirting eyebrows moving up and down. “I was going to raise the subject of that second honeymoon,” he teased.

  Hunter, riding in a papoose on his mother’s chest, giggled loudly, thinking his father’s funny face was directed at him.

  The couple got another good laugh out of that, the fresh, desert air and even footing providing an enjoyable ride.

  “Seriously, Bishop. I want to know your opinion about trying to make peace back there.”

  The Texan glanced at his wife in an effort to get a read on her mood. “I spent a lot of time trying to work out how that could be accomplished. I think both sides are in the wrong, but both have some reasonable grievances. But, in reality, none of that matters. When I boiled it all down, I came to a conclusion that you’re not going to like.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That the only option is to let them fight it out.”

  Terri’s outburst was expected; her reasoning was not. “What? I disagree completely,” she began. What followed raised Bishop’s respect for his wife to new heights. “If the Alliance doesn’t act, that conflict could boil over into our territory. The two warring parties aren’t that far from our breadbasket along the Rio Grande, and if those farmers become embroiled in their quarrel, our food inventories could become collateral damage.”

  Bishop grunted, not having considered that aspect. “Go on,” he said, trying to catch up with her.

  “I spent my time trying to figure out which side we should support, and then pressuring the other into peaceful coexistence,” she answered.

  “I pondered that as well, but historically, that hasn’t always worked out so well. Look at Vietnam, where we funded and died for the south while the Soviets supported the north. Neither of the superpowers got the return on investment they expected. We lost over 50,000 guys in the process.”

  Terri nodded her understanding, but quickly countered. “True, but that strategy has also been extremely successful. Take Israel, for example. We poured money into that country for years and years. In the end, they were our only true ally in the region and grew into an incredibly strong nation.”

  “But Israel didn’t conquer her enemies, and they ended up hating us for our support. I don’t think you can chalk that one up to a completely successful implementation of such a doctrine.”

  They rode along for a bit, Bishop always keeping close watch on their surroundings, Terri trying to solve the Alliance’s problems.

  After four hours in the saddle, Terri announced she, and her bottom, had endured enough of the genuine West Texas experience for one night.

  “We’ll set up camp down in this gully,” Bishop said. “We can build a small fire, and it won’t be visible in such a low spot. I’ll even fix us something to eat.”

  After tethering the horses, Bishop found dry kindling at the bottom of the wash, the flatland transitioning into a streambed during the rare desert rains. Most of the fuel was finger-thin, but the Texan knew that even skinny mesquite would burn for extended periods of time. It smelled pretty good, too.

  As Terri unpacked and tended to Hunter, her husband went about setting up their campsite.

  Bishop considered putting out tripwires but quickly decided against it. The desert here was too flat and open, making hiding and securing the devices difficult and ineffective. Besides, the horses would probably warn them of any approaching man or beast.

  The meal was simple, reheated stew from the Culpepper kitchen and fresh green beans. Hunter enjoyed a small helping of each, as well as a bottle of goat’s milk warmed over the fire.

  Bishop strung his survival net between an outcropping and a makeshift tent pole scavenged from the streambed. It provided a comfortable hammock when padded with their sleeping bags, allowing plenty of room for mother and son. “I’ll lean against that rock over there,” Bishop said. “If I doze off, fine, if not, I had a long nap this afternoon.”

  Terri was too exhausted to debate the subject, she and Hunter soon snuggling in the thick covers, rocking gently back and forth while suspended in mid-air.

  Bishop spent the night watching for shooting stars, searching the desert with his ears, and thinking about his family. He was happiest when they were together, whether it was the desolate regions of West Texas, the luxury RV his wife used as a mobile office, or the cramped confines of the camper at his ranch. The “where�
�� didn’t matter, it was the company a man kept that improved the quality of life.

  He fantasized about moving back to the ranch, of building a house, a herd, and having a nice, green garden. Chickens would be another staple, plus his skill with a rifle would supplement their diet with venison or game birds now and then.

  But he knew it wouldn’t be. Terri was so critical to the Alliance, the people having seen her in action and trusting her judgment. He couldn’t blame them; his wife’s abilities to read people and originate creative solutions to big problems were a constant source of amazement to him.

  How long could she last? Betty’s death in Galveston had been the first event to negatively impact his wife’s energy and determination – at least that he’d noticed. His battle wounds from the Brighton mission had given her pause, but when Terri had lost her best friend in the hurricane, it had wounded her soul deep and wide.

  Then there was the complexity of her role. As the Alliance expanded its territories, more and more people wanted to play a part in the new government. This led to a nearly continuous state of disagreement with local officials, wanna-be lawmakers, and a host of other power-hungry folks. So many of them looked at his wife with disdain, their snarky attitude betraying unvoiced questions like, “What qualifications do you have to lead a government,” often bleeding through. She constantly had to prove herself, and that would wear on anybody, in any role.

  Yet, despite all that, Terri seemed to relish her job. Improving people’s quality of life provided a tremendous reward, the progress being made with the five directives a constant source of gratification. Bishop didn’t blame her, held no ill will over his wife’s recognition and power. His only regret was that they didn’t get much quality time together.

  “I guess that’s a worthy sacrifice,” he mumbled under his breath, glancing at the moonlit outline of her serene, slumbering countenance. “She’s a good mom and loyal wife who is helping millions of people. What man could ask any more of his spouse?”

  The sound of morning birds caused Bishop to startle, his neck and back sore from sleeping against the rock. “The false dawn is breaking in the east,” he noted. “I must have nodded off.”