by Tell Cotten
“I’ve got good reason for riding this horse,” I replied.
“I’d sure like to hear it,” the cowboy said.
I told him about losing Slim, but I left out the part about Slim being shot and the shootout that I’d had with Palmer.
The cowboy listened closely, and afterwards he seemed satisfied.
“I reckon that seems reasonable,” he said. “I’m sorry I had to doubt you, but lately we’ve been having some trouble with hoss thieves and such.”
Lieutenant Porter came to mind.
“Oh?” I said thoughtfully, and then I added, “Well don’t worry, I’m no horse thief.”
As I said it I felt guilty, because a year back me and Kinrich had stolen some horses up north. But, I figured this feller didn’t need to know that.
The cowboy nodded, and then continued.
“Matter of fact, one of our neighbors to the west just lost about thirty hosses. I was just helping them look for ’em.”
“Any luck?”
“Nope.”
I was now certain that Lieutenant Porter was a horse thief. But, I decided not to say anything. Now was not the time.
“My name’s Ross Stewart,” the cowboy commented as he reached inside his shirt pocket and pulled out a plug of tobacco. “As you’ve probably already figured out, I ride for Craig Tomlin, and he’s the one who owns that hoss you just rode.”
“Any chance I might land a job with him?” I asked hopefully.
Ross frowned thoughtfully as he eyed his plug of tobacco.
“You just might be in luck. Feller named Buster usually breaks all the hosses, but a few days ago a hoss bucked him off and broke his leg. Now, Mr. Tomlin is sort-a picky on who he hires, but if you come riding into headquarters on that there hoss he would sure be impressed. That hoss has bucked everybody off in the outfit, including me.”
“Are you going there now?” I asked.
Ross nodded as he bit off a big wad of tobacco.
“Just as soon as I get the remuda rounded up. With all this hoss thieving going on, Mr. Tomlin wants our remuda closer to headquarters.”
“Makes sense,” I said. “Mind if I ride along?”
“Sure, come on. I could use the help,” Ross commented as he returned what was left of his tobacco to his shirt pocket. “By the way, I didn’t catch your name.”
I still wasn’t used to my new name, and it took me a second to remember it.
“Uh, my name’s Joe Lenders,” I replied awkwardly.
Ross raised an eyebrow.
“Joe Lenders? Well now, that’s a name you’d remember. Where are you from, Joe?”
I shrugged.
“Nowhere in particular. I’ve been lots of places.”
“Say, what happened to your shoulder?” Ross asked suddenly.
There was some dried blood on my shirt where Palmer had nicked me, and I had forgot all about it.
“It’s nothing. Just a little scratch I got while riding through some brush,” I replied quickly, and then I changed the subject. “Well, let me get this bronc lined out again and then I’ll join you.”
I felt Ross’s curious eyes on me as I walked back over to the sorrel.
Maybe he had seen my hesitation when I told him my name, or maybe it was the way I wore my gun. Either way he was curious, and I could tell that he hadn’t made up his mind about me yet.
I grabbed the reins, and then I stepped back up on the sorrel.
Soon as I did, he put his head back down and went to bucking. But this time it wasn’t near as hard, and after a few minutes I had him lined out and going good.
After that I grabbed my belongings from inside, and then me and Ross took out.
“Been riding for Mr. Tomlin long?” I asked Ross as we trotted along.
“Couple of years now,” Ross replied as he spit out a brown stream of tobacco. “And let me tell you, he’s a real good man to work for. He’s near fifty, but he’s in better shape than you and me ever thought about. He’s as tough as nails, but he’s also about the most decent man I’ve ever known. You’ll like him.”
“Sounds like it,” I replied. “So, what do you do?”
“I ride the range and keep all of Mr. Tomlin's stock on his range and off’n everybody else’s,” Ross said. “I reckon it sounds easy, but let me tell you, it’s a full time job. There’s always something going where it shouldn’t be.”
“I’ll bet,” I commented. “How many cows does Mr. Tomlin run?”
“’Bout five hundred, give or take a few,” Ross replied. “He used to run more, but there just ain’t no money in it no more. He makes most his money off’n the hoss end.”
After that we didn’t talk much.
It didn’t take us long to gather the horses, and then we got them lined out going westward.
The ranch headquarters was only a few miles away, and it made a pretty sight when we drove the horses down into the corrals.
I looked the headquarters over.
The main house was long and big, and the pole corrals were well-kept and in good shape. I also noticed a real nice round pen with a snubbing post out in the middle, just like the one I’d had back home.
I noticed an older man and a young girl watching us from the porch of the main house.
I figured the older man was Craig Tomlin, for he just had a way about him that told you he was the boss.
He had white hair, and his face was weathered and wrinkled. But his eyes were thoughtful and sharp, and he didn’t seem to miss a thing.
As for the girl; she was the prettiest thing I had ever seen, and I couldn’t help but stare at her. She had long, brown hair, and she also had sandy looking freckles that covered her face.
I turned around and saw Ross watching me with an amused look.
“Her name’s Rachel,” he said. “She’s Mr. Tomlin's daughter.”
“Oh?” I asked innocently. “She seems nice.”
“She is,” Ross agreed quickly.
Mr. Tomlin and Rachel headed towards us. I could tell that Mr. Tomlin was looking me over, and I started getting nervous.
Ross saw Mr. Tomlin coming, and he turned in the saddle and grinned at me.
“Well, I reckon we’ll find out now about that job you’re wanting,” Ross said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Chapter forty-seven
Ross spat out his chaw of tobacco when he saw that Rachel was coming too.
Suddenly, I felt guilty. Who was I, to be here under a false name wanting a job with these honest and good folks?
I didn’t know what to do, but luckily Ross spoke up as they walked up.
“Boss, this here feller calls himself Joe Lenders. I found him over at our line cabin.”
Ross then told Mr. Tomlin about me being a-foot, and also about seeing me ride the tall sorrel.
“And he’s looking for a job,” Ross finished.
Mr. Tomlin turned to me, and his hard, thoughtful eyes studied me coolly.
“Well now, I never thought I’d see the day that somebody would come riding in on that sorrel. I see some mean spur marks on him. You always break a horse like that?”
“No sir, when I have the time I break ’em nice and slow like,” I replied honestly. “Sometimes you’ve got to get a little rough to get their attention, but not always.”
My comment pleased him. But still, he wasn’t quite satisfied, especially when he noticed the way I wore my six-shooter.
“Is there any particular reason why you wear your gun like that?” Mr. Tomlin spoke boldly and direct.
I didn’t want to lie. So, I chose my words carefully.
“Well, sir, that’s the way I was taught to wear ’em.”
“Hmm,” Mr. Tomlin said as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Can you shoot?’
“Only when I have to,” I replied truthfully.
“You work for me and it might come to that,” Mr. Tomlin warned.
“Oh?” I asked.
“You might as well know what you�
��re getting into,” Mr. Tomlin said. “I’m an ex-Rebel, and proud of it. Our current government ain’t too cordial to ex-Rebels.”
“Think there’ll be trouble?” I asked.
“It’s coming,” Mr. Tomlin said. “The government’s choking us. Folks won’t take it much longer.”
I thought on that.
“Well, sir, my Pa was a proud ol’ Rebel too. If you’ll hire me, then I’d be right proud to work for you.”
Mr. Tomlin chuckled.
“All right, Joe, we’ll give you a try. I’ve got a lot of colts that need starting soon.”
“Sounds good, sir,” I grinned.
“Ross is the straw boss. He’ll show you where to put your things.”
Mr. Tomlin started to walk away, but on second thought he turned back.
“Oh, and this is my daughter Rachel.”
Rachel looked up and smiled, and suddenly I felt weak, because that smile was the prettiest thing I had ever seen.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” I managed to say.
Rachel nodded back, but before she could say anything Mr. Tomlin thought of something else.
“Joe, there’s one other thing I should add. My wife and I are good Christian folks, and while I don’t require the men that work for me to share my beliefs, I do demand that they watch their language and mind their manners. I don’t tolerate any drinking neither.”
“I understand, sir,” I said quickly. “All I want is to earn my keep.”
“Then we’ll get along just fine,” Mr. Tomlin said, and then he and Rachel turned and walked back to the house.
As they left Rachel smiled at me, and I got that weak feeling again.
I turned to Ross, and he was grinning at me.
“Told you he was tough,” he said as we led our horses to the barn.
“Seems like it,” I agreed.
We unsaddled our horses, and then Ross showed me where to stow my gear.
For the rest of the afternoon I got myself settled in. After that I helped Ross with the nightly chores, and then it was time for supper.
We washed up and went up to the main house.
Supper was ready, and as I sat down at the dinner table Ross introduced me to Buster and Mrs. Tomlin.
Buster was a smaller man, and he looked to be in his mid-forties. His leg was in a splint, and he was having a hard time getting around.
Mrs. Tomlin was a jovial, good natured woman, and she was all smiles and laughter as she hustled about serving us supper. She was a very good cook, and I ate heartily along with everybody else.
Everybody was in a good mood, and they all joked and kidded around with each other. They made me feel right at home, and I found myself having a real good time.
Every once in a while I would look up and see Rachel studying me. But when I looked back, she would glance away.
After supper I drifted out onto the front porch with the rest of the men. After a while Mrs. Tomlin and Rachel joined us, and then we sat around and talked for a while.
I told everybody that I had stayed with Mr. Hardin, and Mr. Tomlin looked interested when I told them about the Yankee patrol that had come by.
“Those soldiers showed up at Empty-lake about a month ago, giving orders and bossing folks around,” Mr. Tomlin said. “I haven’t met Lieutenant Porter yet, but I’ve heard that he isn’t very sociable.”
“No, sir, he isn’t,” I said.
“I’ll tell you what we need,” Mr. Tomlin went on. “What we need again are the Texas Rangers. That would fix things!”
I didn’t know much when it came to politics, so I just agreed back.
“Papa, you’re fixing to get yourself all worked up,” Rachel cut in suddenly.
Mr. Tomlin shot his daughter a dark look, but then he smiled.
“I’m sorry; I reckon we should talk about something else.”
Rachel changed the subject. She turned to me and started asking all sorts of questions, and before I knew it I was telling them about our farm back east, and also about how Pa and Elliot had been killed. But I didn’t tell them about me being an outlaw, or that I had killed three men.
I knew if Mr. Tomlin ever found out who I really was that he would probably send me packing, and I sure didn’t want that to happen. I really liked these folks, and I felt almost at home here.
As for Ross Stewart, he seemed to be the sort of fellow you would want to ride with. He was calm and collected, and he also seemed to be a very good hand.
I could tell that he still hadn’t made up his mind about me, because all evening long he would suddenly stop me and ask me a question or two, as if he was still trying to figure me out.
In a way, I envied Ross. If I hadn’t gotten involved with Kinrich I might have turned out to be a feller just like Ross.
As for Rachel, well, she was something else. I really liked being around her, and I suspected that Ross liked being around her too.
But I had no business thinking anything special could ever happen. I was an outlaw and a killer, and she was real lady. She deserved someone better, someone like Ross Stewart.
Ross, however, had other ideas.
Later that night me and Ross were alone in the bunkhouse. I was making my bed when Ross looked over at me.
“I think Miss Rachel took a liking to you tonight,” Ross said, and there was a touch of envy in his voice.
I finished making my bed and pulled my shirt off.
“Naw, I don’t think so. Fact is, I thought she was shining up to you.”
I turned and looked over at Ross, and he was studying my gunshot scars.
“Looks like you’ve took some lead,” he nodded towards my shoulder.
Ross wanted an explanation, but I didn’t offer one.
Instead, I replied simply, “Yeah, I did.”
After that, I crawled into bed.
Ross meanwhile, just sat there on the edge of his bed, and he stared at me thoughtfully.
“Goodnight,” I said as I rolled over.
“Sure,” Ross said slowly.
Ross sat there a while longer, and then he finally went to bed.
As for me, I was thinking one thing:
That Ross; he was a good man, and I liked him a lot.
But he sure was thinking too much.
Chapter forty-eight
I didn’t go to sleep for a long time. There were a lot of things on my mind, and as I lay there I tried to sort everything out.
My main problem was Palmer. He was still out there somewhere, and he could show up at any moment and expose me.
I figured Palmer would probably be looking for me in town, so I decided that I would try my best to just stay on the ranch. Hopefully, he would lose my trail and drift on.
I also thought some more about Lieutenant Porter, and the trouble that seemed to be coming.
I finally decided that there was nothing I could do about it. I was just a hired hand, and I would do whatever I was told.
However, this time I felt like I was on the right side of things, and that made me feel better.
We rode out early the next morning to go gather up some cattle that had drifted off our range.
That is, all but Ross. He joined us mid-morning, and when he saw me he loped over.
“Say, I was wondering,” Ross said. “Just how exactly did your hoss die?”
I was unprepared for this question, and it took me a second or two to reply.
“Uh, he stepped into a gopher hole and broke his leg,” I finally said. “I had to shoot him.”
“Is that right?” Ross asked softly, and then he rode away.
Ross had a thoughtful look on his face, and I was worried. But we were coming up on some cattle, so I had to forget about it as we got to work.
A few days later, Ross and Buster went into town in a buckboard to get some supplies. They returned later that afternoon, and I helped Ross stow away all the supplies.
While we worked Ross was quiet, and I could tell that something was on his mind.
Finally, Ross looked over at me.
“There was a stranger in town a while ago.”
I froze, and my heart started beating wildly.
“Oh?” I asked as I tried to look calm.
“He was asking around, saying that he was looking for somebody. He described the feller he was looking for, and it sounded a lot like you,” Ross said, and he watched me closely.
“Is that so?” I asked, and I could feel sweat running down my face. “Did he mention his name?”
“Said his name was Palmer,” Ross replied. “I didn’t like the looks of him, so I didn’t say anything.”
“I’m glad,” I said, relieved. “If he showed up here he might cause trouble.”
“When we were leaving town I saw him talking to Roy Shaw, and it seemed like they were really enjoying each other’s company,” Ross commented.
I was worried, and I’m sure the look on my face showed it.
“There’s another thing I might mention,” Ross continued. “As you’ve probably already figured out, I’m a mighty curious feller. Now, I wanted to see for myself how your hoss died. So, while ya’ll were looking for them cows I rode out to have a look, and what I found were two bullet holes in your hoss. One bullet hole was where you had put him down like you said, but the other shot came from a long ways off. And you know something? All four of them hoss’s legs were just fine.”
Ross paused, and then he continued.
“Now, my guess is that this Palmer feller ambushed you in that valley. He shot your hoss and nicked you, but you still got away. And now, he’s trying to find you again. Am I right?”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
“Just who is this Palmer feller?” Ross asked.
“He’s a thorn in my side,” I replied. “He’s been hunting me for a while now.”
“Why?” Ross wanted to know.
“I wish I could tell you, Ross, but I just can’t,” I replied wistfully.
Ross frowned thoughtfully.
“Well, suit yourself. But if Palmer shows up here, you’re on your own. I ain’t getting myself involved until I know all the facts.
“But know this,” Ross said. “The Tomlins are like family to me, and I ain’t going to let any harm come to them. Now, you want us to think that you’re just some drifting cow-puncher, but there’s a lot of things that don’t add up. For starters, you have the look of a gunfighter, and you have the bullet scars to prove it.”
