Texas Blood Feud

by Dusty Richards

  “You sure you want to do this?” she asked Chet.

  “Sure as I can be.”

  She dismissed him with a shake of her head and pulled down her felt hat brim. Then she took up the reins, clucked to the team, and they took off in a trot.

  “I don’t understand why you are doing this to yourself.”

  “I do—I never had a chance with you before—”

  “A chance for what? What are you talking about?”

  He looked out of his right eye at her, and the whole world weaved back and forth. “I’m talking about me and you—all these years—all this time—K-Kathren, I’ve really wanted you…”

  “Oh, my God.” Then she threw her right arm around him. The last thing he recalled was when he collapsed against her. His world went black.

  Chapter 24

  Chet couldn’t be certain where he was for a day and a half. He spent most to the time in Kathren’s bed. When he woke up in a groggy haze, he could hear Dale Allen’s concerned-sounding voice talking to Kathren.

  “Dale Allen’s here,” she told Chet.

  “Casey sent word they’d worked you over,” Dale Allen said, standing beside the bed. “Who done it?”

  He tried to sit up, and that didn’t work, so he eased back down. “Casey said it was Shelby Reynolds and some hard cases he bought back with him that Earl hired.”

  Dale Allen nodded with a grim set to his mouth. “For ten cents, I’d ride over there and blow them all to kingdom come.”

  “Aw, they need us—the family. We’ve got a trail drive to get on with. A ranch to run—why, I’ll be up kicking in a few days.” He hoped.

  For the first time he could ever recall, he read in his brother’s blue eyes the sincerity and concern that he shared with him about the whole ranch operation. He felt like for the first time in his life, Dale Allen realized the scope of their responsibility. The notion might make all Chet’s suffering in the ordeal worthwhile. He’d gotten a partner at last.

  “Thanksgiving is this Thursday,” Dale Allen said. “You know Susie—”

  Chet raised his gaze to Kathren. “Sis always makes a big deal about holidays.”

  “Well, you sure can’t go.”

  “Would you drive me?”

  It seemed to him it took the longest time for her to answer him. After more than hundred loud ticks of the grandfather clock on the mantle, he started to worry she might say no. Then, at last, she spoke to Dale Allen.

  “If he don’t pass out and fall off the wagon, we’ll be there.” From her tone, Chet knew she disapproved of the trip.

  “Thanks. You want Doc to come look you over?” Dale Allen asked him.

  “I’ll heal. No, thanks.”

  “Casey sent you two more bottles of good whiskey and said to get well.”

  “Tell him thanks.”

  “I better get back if you don’t need anything.” With his fingertips on the brim, Dale Allen moved the hat in his hands around in a circle like a nervous tomcat.

  “Don’t need anything. Tell the crew I’ll be there for Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “Or dead,” she said under her breath.

  “Hey, I can send the boys over with a bed in the big wagon to get him.”

  “No, Dale Allen, I’ll get him there.”

  “Your daughter is invited.” He looked around for her.

  “She’s still staying with my folks,” Kathren explained.

  “Oh, yes…”

  Chet slipped off to sleep then. It was partially brought on by the whiskey she fed him and partially from what the hurting in his body demanded from him. When she woke him, he discovered she was sitting on the side of the bed armed with a spoon and a bowl.

  “He gone?” Chet asked.

  “A couple of hours ago. Time to eat if you’re going to Thanksgiving dinner in a few days.”

  “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “What if I did?”

  He blinked at her in disbelief. “You serious?”

  “I’m always serious, Chester Byrnes.”

  “Why, I figured you’d be damn glad to be rid of a man you had to bathe, hold him up to relieve himself, and nursemaid all day.”

  Her head slowly nodded. “But I’ll have to share you if I take you back.”

  “Hmm. You ain’t giving up much. Why, I couldn’t fight off a rooster attacking me.”

  She set the soup on the table, then turned back to bend over and push the stray hair back from his face, then bent over and kissed him. He closed his eyes to the tenderness of her mouth on his cracked lips.

  Was he alive or dreaming that this happened? If it was a dream, for Gawd’s sake, don’t wake him.

  She straightened up and gave her hair a toss back. “Now you must sit up some and eat. Let me help you.”

  With his arms tight to his sides to keep the pain under her tightly wrapped bandage around his ribs, she pulled him up and propped him with pillows. Then, with a small smile, she took up the bowl and spoon.

  “I’d sure take some more dessert like that after supper,” he said.

  With a mischievous grin, she nodded. “Oh, there might be some left for you.”

  Two days passed, and he pushed himself to get up, first with her help. Then he began to get up on his own. He wanted to walk into that ranch house on Thursday. The effort wore him out, but he soon could circle the bed.

  On Wednesday, she went for few hours to check on her daughter and parents. He was holding his breath when he looked out the window and saw some riders coming across the flats.

  Damn, where was his gun? She had a rifle over the door, but he’d never reach that high over his head. Must be four or five of them—just right for the Reynolds bunch. At last, he discovered his holster set and slung it on the dry sink. That effort hurt his right side. He eased the Colt out and checked the cylinders—five shots. He’d make them count.

  At the window again, he recognized the men coming. Then he collapsed against the wall. The cold swear dripped from under his armpits. They were his friends.

  Wade Morgan, Jim Crammer, Elmer Stokes, Sy Calahan, and a cowboy he didn’t know. He set the revolver on the dry sink and went to answer the door. Shaking his head over the impulse that had captured him, he unlatched the door.

  “Get down and come on in,” he said.

  Sy Calahan, laughed, dismounting. “I told you that old coyote was all right. He’s just up here keeping a fine lady company.”

  “That don’t sound half nice,” Elmer Stokes complained.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Don’t matter—she around?” Stokes whirled around to look for her.

  “No.”

  “Still, it ain’t nice to joke about delicate things like that.”

  Even Chet laughed, but he paid the price in hurt.

  When they were all inside, Wade put some water in the coffeepot and swung it into the fireplace to boil. They all took seats and asked a million questions, as well as telling what they knew about the Reynolds hands.

  “Two of ’em rannies vanished when they heard Sheriff Trent was coming down. So there’s just Shelby and some piss cutter named Sharp left,” Calahan said.

  Chet sat in Kathren’s rocker through it all, and fought drowsiness sipping on Wade’s too thick coffee through the conversation about cattle, weather, and rain.

  “I’m going home for Thanksgiving,” he said.

  “You up to it?” Jim Crammer asked.

  “Kathren’s going to drive,” Chet said.

  “Hellfire, Chet, why, I’d stay here till she threw me out.” Calahan clapped his knees in a cloud of dust. His humor made them all laugh.

  “Mr. Byrnes, I didn’t want to bother you,” Pinky, the drover who came with them, said, “but I came to see about work.”

  The handle didn’t fit the tall lean man seated on the kitchen chair in the circle. Chet made him out as close to his age. His face was tanned to saddle-leather brown, and his bare snowy white forehead showed he wasn’t without his hat m
uch.

  “You’re no bother,” said Chet. “You’ve been to Kansas, I take it?”

  “Yes, three times. Last time up, I was second in command, and Casey Thornton broke his leg when we were unsticking the chuck wagon north of the Red River crossing, so I was ramrod the rest of the way.”

  Chet knew Casey and had heard about his wreck going north. “My brother Dale Allen is taking the herd north this year. I want you to talk to him. Come out to the ranch for dinner tomorrow. Susie and the girls will have plenty to eat. I’m sure he can use an experienced hand.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be there.”

  Jim Crammer stood up and finished his coffee before he spoke. “We’re sorry we weren’t in town when those buzzards struck you, or it might have been different.”

  “Jim, thanks, and thanks to all of you for coming to see me. But it might have been the best thing that it happened like it did. I took a beating—but no one got killed. Too many been killed around here even if they have been Reynolds men and their kin.”

  When Kathren returned, he awoke sitting in her chair. “Who came? I saw the tracks,” she said.

  “Oh, the fellas.”

  She bent over and kissed him with her arms holding a poke. Natural as the sun coming up. Man, he sure had gotten spoiled in the few days he’d been there.

  “Mother sent some bread and sweets she made for you. Cady is having Thanksgiving with my brother Tad and his wife. Folks are going there, too.”

  “She miss not being home?”

  “No. Mother dotes on her. She probably made the sweets. They have a time together.”

  “I hate to upset your holiday.”

  “You didn’t—I want to tell you how worried I felt seeing all those tracks out there a few minutes ago.” She was busy unloading what she’d brought in on the sink. “You get your gun out?”

  “Yes, I didn’t know who was coming.”

  “I felt the same way at first seeing the sign of their hoofprints. Then I said no, Chet’s there and he handled it,” she said, hanging the holster set back on the peg.

  “Chet couldn’t get the rifle down.” He chuckled, wanting to get up and swing her around, and knowing damn good and well in his shape that he couldn’t do it.

  “I never thought about that. Next time, it will be where you can get it.”

  “If I was well, you know what I’d do?”

  “No.”

  “I’d polka you around this house.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I feel like it.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  He leaned around to see her putting things up. “I’m as serious as I can be.”

  She tilted her head to the side and nodded. “No one has ever done that to me.”

  “Well, girl, I get better, I’ll do it till your feet hurt.”

  She looked thoughtfully at him and then grinned. “I’ll look forward to that. How do you polka without music?”

  “I can’t sing, but I can hum.”

  “You know, Chet.” She stopped, put both hands flat on the dry sink, and looked hard at him. “I spent over ten years married to a man who never laughed. He told me on our wedding night that laughing and giggling was kid stuff and he wouldn’t put up with it. So I never laughed or hardly even smiled around him the entire time….”

  Holy cow, what a poor way for her to have lived.

  Chapter 25

  With her driving in her best Sunday dress, the ride to the ranch wore him out. But once there, he waved away all the offers of help to get down as everyone came out in the midday sun to welcome them. Kathren had made three pecan pies, and the boys each carried one of them inside. Sammy took care of the team. Chet made it inside to a kitchen chair and sat down.

  “Chester, you better tell these dumb boys if they don’t start standing guard at night, them red niggers are sure going to sneak in here some night and murder us all in our beds.”

  “I will, Paw. I’ll handle it.”

  “By Gawd, you better. I couldn’t get nothing out of ’em.”

  “Where you going, Paw?”

  “To bed. I’m tired. It must be late.”

  “Good night.” Chet shook his head after the tottering old man went down the hall. Satisfied he was out of hearing, he shook his head at Dale Allen, who stood very close to May back from the traffic. “Next time simply tell him the guard list goes like this. He won’t check on it. Hell, he’s gone to bed here at dinnertime.”

  Dale Allen agreed. Imagine that.

  “You want to say grace?” Susie asked him behind her hand.

  “Sure. Something wrong?”

  She looked around and then leaned over and whispered. “I have invited Robert to come eat with us since he has no family around here.”

  “Robert who?” he asked softly.

  She looked put out at him. “Robert Trent.”

  “Oh, Bob—”

  That must have made her madder, for she hustled off ordering her help around. Something she seldom did. Probably she didn’t want everyone to know about the situation in case he didn’t show up. Chet raised his glance to the embossed tin ceiling squares for help.

  The sheriff arrived, and Susie introduced him around to everyone. He looked all slicked up, and so did Pinky, who followed him in by a few minutes. Chet introduced him and told Dale Allen that Pinky wished to talk to him after the meal about going on the drive. Dale Allen looked relieved and nodded his approval.

  Dogs barking and mules honking—the long-lost Matt and J.D. arrived with long ears in tow. Everyone rushed outside to look at their purchases, and the desperate Susie began wringing her hands, saying to Chet that her big meal was ready.

  He hobbled out on the porch and called things to order. “Dinner is ready. You two strangers wash up. Everyone else get inside and we can look at mules later. Come on, they’ve worked hard on fixing this meal.”

  “Nice of you to do that,” Kathren said under her breath, skirt in hand, going by him.

  He nodded and herded the crew back to the table. He could see Matt had done a great job. They were stout good-looking mules.

  J.D. shook his head, going past. “Helluva a long trip.”

  “I want to hear all about it after dinner.”

  Matt came stiff-legged along after him and shook his head. “I about had to go to Fort Smith to find ’em.”

  “I can see that you did well.”

  The man beamed. “We tried. Home cooking. Smells great.” And he went by.

  When everyone was inside, Chet said a short grace, and they all began to fill their plates from the numerous bowls, and Susie passed the turkey platter around to help them. When she got to Chet, he whispered to her, “We can pass it. Go sit with your guest.”

  Susie about blushed. “I will. Have some.”

  “You know, you can be bossy,” Kathren said, handing the gravy bowl to him.

  “Never knew that. Something needed done. I’m simply hurrying them up.”

  Kathen laughed. He realized that he’d never heard her laugh in years. Not since their school and country dance days. She tried to smother it with a napkin, but that only made it worse. Then he began to chuckle at her attempt to cut it off, and the whole table laughed, it became so contagious. At last, she managed, “I’m sorry. I guess I hadn’t laughed in a long time and it had to come out.”

  She dabbed her wet eyes with the napkin and looked about to sob.

  “Now don’t go to crying ’cause we all can’t cry,” he said, feeling pinned down by the fact that he couldn’t hug her. He put down his fork, reached over, and squeezed her hand under the table. She in turn tightened her hand in his and nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Good. Now, J.D., when you get enough of this good food in you, tell us all about the mule deal.”

  “Well, we went to San Antonio and there weren’t any mules worth a—none we wanted to buy. Then we went to Austin and the mules for sale there were worse. Fort Worth and Dallas—big places. Why, I seen mo
re dang things than you could—well, ever believe. They said we needed to go to Fort Smith, Arkansas. I recalled Grandpa Rock and them come from up there.”

  He took a drink of water from the goblet and swallowed hard. “We never got there. Matt and I found these mules we brought home in Texarkana. I was sure dreading going much farther. All farming country and pine thickets out there in east Texas. Folks living in log shacks farming forty acres. I never knowed it before, but we live pretty good here compared to that kind of life.”

  “Thanks, J.D., and you, too, Matt,” Chet said. “Those mules are sure necessary for the farming we must do here and hauling the chuck wagon. Susie, let’s get out some wine and give everyone a small glass and we’ll do some toasting to the good things around us. Sure we have problems with some other folks, but like J.D. just said, we do have a good life here on the bar-C.”

  Susie and the girls soon had the glasses out and the wine poured. Chet rose with a wince and held his glass up. “I propose a toast to Dale Allen, who’s been running the ranch so well with me laid up, and our trail boss for next year. Dale, stand up.”

  May, about to bust the buttons off her Sunday dress, made him stand and raise his glass. He looked awkward, but nodded and they toasted him. Then Chet proposed a toast to Susie and the two girls for their wonderful Thanksgiving dinner. Reg proposed a toast to Matt and J.D. for buying the mules.

  Then Susie rose with the last red wine in her glass and wet her lips. “We all know what Chet does for us, but I am very grateful for the wonderful job that Kathren has done taking care of him to get him back here today.”

  Chairs scraped on the floor. Everyone stood and they raised their glasses. “To Chet and Kathren.”

  Damn, he hoped he didn’t cry—again.

  After the meal, he parleyed with the men in the living room. “December, we need to check fences around the oat patches twice a week. We have to be sure we aren’t feeding everyone’s cattle on our grass. Sometime after Christmas, some of us’ll go to Mexico and get our cattle I have bought down here. February, we trail-brand all the cattle we’re taking. I don’t want the ones we are taking along on our grass. So they’ll come in here about the first of March, and on the fifteenth, Dale Allen and crew can head ’em north.