“He not going this year?”
“No, he got killed in Abilene last year.”
Chet frowned at the man. “I saw him up there alive before I left for home.”
“So did I, but some gambler named Riggins shot him. His widow’s got her a new man and I didn’t cotton to him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Yarnell.”
“Logan Yarnell?” That worthless loudmouth wouldn’t suit him to work for either.
“That’s him.”
“I reckon I can use you. We’ve had some trouble with some folks and it might get kinda tight around here.”
“Tight?”
“Earl Reynolds and the Campbell clan have made it a feud.”
“I ride for the brand.”
“Get your gear.”
“I got it here.” He spread his hand over the cart.
“Come on and meet my sis Susie. The folks are little vexed, so don’t mind them. My brother Dale Allen and the boys will be in tonight. They’ve been sorting cattle off our land.”
“What shape’s the chuck wagon in?”
“My brother’s spent hours working on the hardware. Painting it. I’d say it was good as any ever rolled north, but you inspect it. He keeps it under cover when we’re home. Down in the last barn. Come in now and meet Susie.”
They drank fresh coffee and Susie laughed with them. Matt Green satisfied Chet that he’d fit in. Rock came by and shook his head. The old man hadn’t been able to ride with the boys for several years. “You ain’t smart joining this outfit.”
Then Rock ambled off and Matt said after him, “Sounds like an outfit needs me, Mr. Byrnes.”
Rock never answered him.
“You have any good dessert recipes that you’d share?” Susie asked, refilling their cups.
“I can take oatmeal and make a mean pecan pie.”
“I want to learn that one,” Susie said, and smiled.
“We’ll get together and make some.”
Chet was wondering who else he could hire. “Know any good boys that won’t work for your ex-boss worth a hoot?”
“Berry, Pinky, and Stovepipe were sure getting restless listening to that damn loudmouth telling them what to do. They ain’t point riders, but they’re sure enough hands in a storm or stampede.”
“How would you get word to them?”
“I’d go over there and tell them they can find work here.”
“Hold that off till next week. Some of us plan to go to the dance Saturday night and I’d like you to stick around here and guard things.”
“Makes me no difference. I ain’t much on dancing with this stiff leg anyway.” Matt laughed aloud. “I’m here for the ride with you.”
“I’ll show you the bunkhouse and you can put your things up. These girls ring the bell for meals.”
“Maybe I could help them?”
“Lord knows, they won’t turn down help.”
He showed the bunkhouse to the new trail drive cook. It was early to have him on the payroll, but he needed the extra guard as well. After lunch, Chet shod Strawberry and Sam Bass. Most horses in the cavy didn’t need to be shod because they weren’t ridden enough. But the horses he grained he kept shod since they got the most usage. His back complained afterward, but he felt satisfied he’d done something that day—hired Matt and fixed two horses.
The cowboys and Dale rode in before Susie rang the supper bell and dismounted heavily. Dale began stripping out the latigos. “We moved several head today. There’s lots of ’em out there eating our grass.”
“We’ll just work on it. You know we can’t leave with the herd and have all this feud going on.”
“I’ve been wondering about that.”
Time to break the news to his brother. “I want you to take the herd north this time.”
Dale Allen shrugged, “Guess I can find my way.”
“I’m not worried about you finding it. I’m more worried if them boys’ll work for you.”
“Huh?”
“Being a cattle drive boss ain’t the same as ordering slaves around. Don’t tell them to do something you can do. You’ll in time earn their confidence, and then they’ll do those things for you without being asked.”
“I’ve got to hold my temper is what you’re getting at?”
“Part of it, and you can’t go hide in the shop when things close in on you up there.” He tossed his head toward the house.
Susie’s bell was ringing for supper.
“I guess you made it plain enough for me,” said Dale Allen.
“I just want you to make it. You know how important these drives are to everyone. Making a profit is only part of it.”
Dale Allen looked around and, satisfied the boys had gone on, said, “Thanks for giving Louise the money to go home. She needed to go see it for herself.”
Chet bit his tongue and saved his answer for another day. You need to stop your damn affair with her. He nodded and went on. “Oh, I hired a cook today. A fella named Matt Green who knows the way.”
“Good. I may need lots of help getting up there.”
Chet shook his head. “Follow that old North Star. Kansas ain’t that far.”
They went on to supper. The meal was topped off with Matt’s oatmeal pie, and the boys all agreed it was larruping good. Dale Allen even agreed.
Chet held everyone up when they finished. “Dale Allen and I have talked it over. Due to this feud and all its implications, he’s going to take the herd north for the ranch this spring. I want everyone to pitch in and make it a big success.”
The reassuring head bobs around the room made him feel better. He’d see as time went on how successful it looked. A good crew had to be a well-knit outfit, and it started with the trail boss down through the cook’s helper.
“This Saturday we’re going to the schoolhouse dance. I expect trouble, but they aren’t going to bully us out of living our lives.”
“Will they be there?” Reg asked.
“It’s a free country.”
Reg nodded that he understood.
“Matt’s staying here. Any others?”
“I’ll stay,” Dale Allen said.
“You two should handle it.” The others faded out of the room, and soon only Astria and Susie were left washing dishes. Chet sipped on his coffee.
“Dale Allen act satisfied about getting the trail boss job?” Susie asked.
“I think he wanted a chance to show his leadership.”
“He should do all right.”
“He’s been getting on better with the boys, sorting out the strays.”
“You certain it’s safe for us to go to the dance?”
“Safe? Are our lives ever going to be safe?”
Susie frowned at him. “Is this a curse that goes on and on?”
Chet slowly nodded. “I believe it is.”
The next morning, they rushed around loading the wagon, currying down the big mares, and the whole place was in action. The buckboard team was brushed down and harnessed, too.
“Those are some big mares,” Matt said, admiring them.
“They’re bred to a mammoth jack. They’ve been raising our mules we use on the drive to haul the chuck wagon and to farm with. We keep over a dozen of them.”
“I wondered what you drove up there.”
“Two teams of mules. They’re ten times tougher than horses on a long haul. But those big sisters like to pull, so we use them in the off season.”
“That chuck wagon does look new. He’s done everything to it I can see.”
“Dale Allen’s a good mechanic. He keeps up our farm machinery. Those two mowers in there are his pride and joy. I bet when I start haying, I’ll have fits with them and him not here.”
Matt laughed. “Better find you a real mechanic.”
“I’ll start looking.” Chet went to see how Susie was coming along.
By mid-morning they were under way. Reg handled the mares. Susie drove the buckboard and t
he rest rode horses. The Warner School House was on everyone’s mind. The trip proved uneventful. Several others were already there when they pulled up in the schoolyard and Heck scotched the wheels with blocks. Tarps were strung despite the warm sunny day, and Susie served a light lunch of cold meat and biscuits made earlier. Things fit quickly into shape. A mesquite-oak chunk fire in the ring soon roared under the coffeepot, which was full of fresh water from the barrel.
Reg had gone off to find Molly and her bunch. J.D. and Heck went to trade pocketknives with some boys their age.
Ryan Thomas came by looking like a fox ready to steal a chicken. All dressed up in a suit and tie. His hair was obviously fresh cut when he swept off his hat for Susie. Chet could see the pleasure in his sister’s averted eyes. Good, maybe she’d have some fun.
Neddy came by, and they talked about Bugger.
“Them boys about got him broke, Neddy.”
“Aw, you keep him and ride him like he’s your own. He’s more horse than I need right now.”
“Want to sell him?”
She wrinkled her nose. Then she shook his arm to make her point. “You use him. I ever need him, I’ll let you know.”
“He’d dang sure pull a cow out of a bog.”
“Might break a rope, too.” She laughed, then lowered her voice. “Them Reynolds boys done any more to your bunch?”
“Two are dead. One’s in jail, and two more are wanted for Marla Porter’s murder.”
“I heard all about that. Sorry about your loss.”
He felt uncertain about what to say.
“Porter never treated her right.” She hugged his arm and hauled him a short distance from the camp, then made certain she wouldn’t be heard. “Must have broken your heart to find her like that.”
“I hated they ruined her reputation as bad as they did.”
“She was a proud woman. You know that can get in your way, too.”
He looked off at the bare hillside. “I guess it did.”
“I’d’ve been proud if you’d’ve come and courted me on the sly.” Then she gave him a small shove. “You were supposed to laugh at that.”
And he did as he hugged her.
“Don’t let old Bugger throw you,” she said. “I’ve got to catch Susie and tell her about Maudie Slavin.”
“What about her?”
“She’s going to have a baby.”
“Ain’t she a little old?” He guessed the woman past fifty and most of her family grown.
“Ain’t nothing like an old fool. Thinks she was twenty-five.” Neddy laughed, and went up the rise to the wagon to find Susie.
He knew the young man with his back to a big oak was waiting his turn to talk to him. When Neddy left, he came sauntering over. The youth in his twenties stopped and folded his arms. “My name’s Sammy Martin, Mr. Byrnes.”
“My name’s Chet. Mr. Byrnes didn’t come along this time.”
“Chet, you know who I am?”
“Not really. My boys may.”
“I’m a swing rider. I’m a damn good one.”
Chet nodded.
“My brother Marco’s married to Earl’s middle girl, Talley. I ain’t married to no one.”
“Put you on the opposite side of the fence from your kin.” He studied the suntanned face for an expression.
Sammy shook his head. “I sure didn’t fall in love with her. I’m looking for a job as a swing rider.”
“Going to make it hard for you at home?”
“If you hire me, I’ll go get my gear, tell my folks good-bye, and that will be it.” The cold set of his blue eyes looked hard enough that Chet believed him.
“How many times you been north?”
“Three times. Once as a swing rider—one and a half. We were well up in the Indian Nation with Carp Belton. Johnny McCormack drowned in some flooded creek. I went the rest of the way as the right swing. Went back last year with Belton, but after that drive he took off with some dance hall gal and went to Cheyenne, I guess, and blowed them folks’ cattle money.”
“Left his wife and three kids destitute and took money that wasn’t his with him.” Chet shook his head. Belton wasn’t the first, and wouldn’t be the last to abscond with others’ proceeds and then leave a wife and kids for a high old time.
Sammy nodded. “You need a swing rider?”
Chet nodded. “But I’m not going north this year.”
“Huh? I heard you had several small herds lined up—”
Chet put his finger to his lips. “No one needs to know. My brother is taking it up there. I can’t leave because of the feud.”
“Your secret. I won’t tell anyone.”
With his hand stuck out, they shook. “Get your gear and come on to the ranch. We’ve got gathering and road-branding to do this winter. As well as driving strays off our grass. You’ll earn your pay. But I have to warn you. They may shoot at you as quick as they’d shoot at me.”
A smile crossed his handsome face. “They’ll just have to try. Thanks for the job.”
“You ain’t even had a taste of it yet. You may cuss me before this is over. We’ll eat supper about six tonight. Come by and get a plate.”
“That ain’t mooching, is it?”
“No, Sammy, you’re part of the crew right now unless you change your mind.”
“Thank you. Mister—I mean Chet.”
Chet went on to look for his cronies. How old was that boy? Early twenties. Ryan Thomas might have some competition for his sister Susie. No telling.
He noticed the towering cloud coming in off the gulf. Warm as it was for that time of year, they might have a storm building. Time would tell. He saw Wade Morgan and some of the other cattlemen squatted down on their heels. The talk was all about a yearling buckskin colt a boy held by the lead.
“Get in here,” Morgan said. “Brooks’s got a dandy colt he says he wants to sell. Show him how light on his feet he is.” He motioned for the boy to lead him off.
Chet pushed his hat back and studied the high stride of the young horse. He looked like he was walking on air. Head high, his thin black mane unfurled in the wind, he made a stride like an artist had captured in painting he once saw in a San Antonio bar.
“What’s he asking for him?”
Jim Brooks, a bearded man, nodded from across the circle. “Two-fifty.”
“What’s the best offer you got so far on him?”
With a shake of his shaggy face to dismiss that notion, Brooks said, “I’m asking two-fifty.”
“He should make a fine stud.” Morgan said, and heads bobbed in agreement.
“Raising a stud is lots of work, boys. You can’t turn him out; he’ll get in a fight or get eat up by wire. The saddle horses’ll pick on him and kick him. So you raise him in a stall, and then he ain’t fit to ride two hundred miles ’cause he don’t know how to rustle a living away from a feed box and hay manger.”
“You’ve kept some before.”
Chet agreed. “Now I’d rather pay the stud fee and let someone else mess with them feisty stallions.”
“You ever see a better prospect? His mother can run.”
“Who’s his sire?”
“A Barbarossa stallion.”
Chet knew that line of horses and how few outside horses were ever bred to one of their studs on the haciendas in Mexico. “How did you do that?”
“His dam beat a hacienda horse in a race. If I won, I got her bred to one of their best stallions. He was a clay-bank that they called Golden King in Spanish.”
Rey de Oro. Chet had seen that horse once at a race meet. That was also the horse in the painting, too.
“A hundred now and a hundred when the cattle drive money comes back,” he said, causing grins of discovery around the circle.
“I have had many expenses getting him to here. Two-fifty.”
“I don’t have that much money on me. Bring him to the ranch Sunday or Monday and I’ll pay you.”
Brooks rose stiffly and shook his hand. �
��Thanks, you will have a great horse.”
“I’ll hope so paying that much.”
Chet wasn’t certain, but he thought the boy was about to cry over the sale as he led the colt off. On his toes, the frisky buckskin was a handful. Brooks trailed him shooing the colt when he hesitated.
Chet hoped the family liked him as much as he did. Whew. Lots of money for a young horse. In the distance, he could hear Nancy Brant’s laughter—he’d have someone to dance with anyway. No sign of the Reynolds clan so far.
Chapter 16
“He’s a Barbarossa Colt?” Reg asked, sounding impressed as they ate supper.
“Yes. I think he’s a dandy. They’re bringing him to the ranch next week.”
Sammy had joined them, and spent some time introducing himself to Susie like Chet expected. Introductions went around the campfire as Sammy took his place in the ring and J.D. elbowed Chet.
“Ain’t his brother married to a Reynolds?”
“Yes, but he told me that he wasn’t married to them.”
“Good.” J. D. went back to eating.
Chet shared a private smile with Sammy, who’d obviously heard their conversation. He acted at ease.
In a short while, Chet was dancing with Nancy Brant and she was telling him all about a new colt. They waltzed across the floor that was lubricated with cornmeal, and the notion struck him that he wouldn’t ever get to dance with Marla Porter again. It had been his chance to hold her in public and they could talk about anything. More than likely, though, she would ask when would he come by to see her. Damn, that made him nauseated. Even as he danced with the tall carefree woman, it saddened him—a lot.
“You feeling bad?” she asked.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“I bet you do. There’s two of them dead. One in jail. Two on the loose.”
“It’s real serious business. They’ll shoot at anyone, even a ten-year-old boy.”
She nodded and then looked seriously at him. “You miss her?”
“I guess she wasn’t mine to miss.”
“No, Chet, she was yours.”
“I doubt that.”
“Nooo. I saw it when you two danced together. You couldn’t hide the pride.”
“Hmm. I thought it was a good secret.”
She winked and wrinkled her nose at him. “A woman knows. A woman knows before a man can even think about it.”
Texas Blood Feud Page 13
