Scar and the Double D Ranch

by Jim Cox

  Three days later, Scar woke to a warm fall day and a missing mule. He added wood to the red embers and ambled to the front of the cave to look for her. Maude was eating in the same location she’d been to every day since being on the trail back home, at the mountain floor where the long-stem prairie grass grew. She was pawing snow away from the grass with her injured left leg, which pleased Scar. He sliced bacon, gathered snow in his pot, and a few minutes later sat against the cave’s wall holding coffee and eating his biscuit and bacon sandwiches. He was trying to decide whether to leave or not. I’ll wait and see how Maude walks back to camp. If she’s still limping, we stay. If she’s not limping, we’ll leave, he thought.

  He allowed her to eat for another forty-five minutes and then whistled. After eating the grass in the spot she’d cleared, Maude started up the hill. Scar’s eyes were on her every step. She was not limping.

  By the time Maude was in camp, Scar had scattered the red coals and packed his gear. He carefully examined the mule’s wound and then applied a good amount of pressure to her pastern. She didn’t flinch. Both injuries seemed to be in fair shape. He stood scratching her forehead for a minute or two and then saddled her. It was at this point he decided to walk. He knew his two hundred thirty-five pounds would not be good for Maude’s recovery. Maude followed the big man but seemed perplexed because he hadn’t mounted. Onward they went. It would be a long walk back to the Double D.

  Chapter Three

  Liz had latched the school door and was on her way home when she saw a horse and buggy tethered in front of her house. Her step quickened, thinking it could be someone with news about her husband. According to his telegram, he was to have been back in Flat Peaks three days ago. She was worried and had been for the last two days. After all, he had always made it a practice to be punctual. She remembered a few times he’d not shown up as planned, but as it turned out, he was holed-up because of a problem. Negative thoughts filled her mind.

  When she got closer, she recognized the horse. It was Star, the horse her mother most often drove. “What are you doing here, Mamma?” Liz asked as she approached her porch.

  “I came after you, Liz.”

  “I can’t go, Mamma. Bart was supposed to be here three days ago, and he’s not here yet. I have to stay here. He might be in trouble and try to contact me.”

  “I know you’re worried, Liz, and I am, too. But most likely, he’s been delayed because of some problem in Pinneo. He always shows up sooner or later. Remember the time during our wagon train trip to Colorado…when the Indians took him during his night watch? We thought for sure they’d killed him.”

  “I remember, Mamma. It scared me to death. I didn’t speak to him for a week.”

  “He’ll be home soon, Liz, have faith.”

  “I don’t know, Mamma. I…I…” Tears came. “I’m so worried.”

  “What you need is to be around folks who love you…people who can give you support. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and as you know the ranch is having its traditional Thanksgiving party. We’ve invited the usual crowd, and, of course, all of the ranch folks will be there. Your school is out until Monday, so why don’t you gather up some personal things and spend a few days with us?” The daughter nodded a reluctant yes.

  After a pause, she said, “I’ll go Mamma, but first I want to send a telegram to the sheriff in Pinneo, asking about Bart. I want to find out when he left.”

  “You go send the telegram, Liz. We can visit with the women at Jenny’s Place while we’re waiting for the answer. I’ll meet you there.”

  Sometime later, Liz and her mother were sitting at a back table drinking coffee with Jenny and her helper, Mrs. Kaiser, when the telegraph operator entered the café. He handed Liz a telegram.

  Silence gripped the women as they focused on the girl. They knew the message was not favorable when they saw tears fill her eyes. Liz paused for nearly a minute, wiped away the tears, and said, “The Pinneo sheriff says Bart left a week ago. The trip back here should only take three days. Something terrible must have happened to him.”

  Mrs. Douglas went to her daughter with consoling words as she held her tightly. “Don’t think the worst, honey. He can take care of himself. I’m sure he’ll show, given time.”

  The two women rose, and as they left the café, Mrs. Douglas turned, saying, “See you ladies tomorrow at the Double D…don't be late.” Then they stepped into the buggy and headed for the ranch.

  Preparation for the Thanksgiving gathering started early. A hindquarter of beef was already turning on a spit over a fire by the time Morning Sun had breakfast ready. Morning Sun was a young Indian mother of two children whom Thomas, the ranch foreman, had found in the food cave, hiding behind some shelving. The food cave was a hollowed-out grotto about the size of a large room in the side of the mountain, behind an overhead waterfall. The year-round temperature in the cave stayed near fifty degrees—an ideal place for the ranch to store their food. Morning Sun was now the ranch cook and a solid member of the Douglas clan. Before eating, Mr. Douglas said a blessing, and the food was passed. There were fried eggs, bacon, gravy, and biscuits. Butter and three kinds of jelly centered the table. Conversations abounded during and after the meal about the happenings at the ranch. Thomas reported he’d hired men to winter in the three range shacks and the grass was in excellent condition for the season. Jake, who was a ranch hand and like an adopted son to the Douglases, said he’d set up two horseshoe courses along the creek and two tables for card playing in the barn.

  Everyone was in a festive mood, except for Liz. Her mind was on her husband. She slowly pulled back from the table and went to her room. She knew he’d be back by now if he wasn’t in some sort of trouble. Maybe I should have someone go look for him. Thomas would go if I asked him.

  The beef quarter was receiving its last basting when buggies were spotted coming up the valley. As the buggies came closer and crossed over the creek bridge, folks could be identified. Jenny and Mrs. Kaiser were first. Their buggy’s backseat was most likely filled with potato salad, freshly baked bread, and pies that everyone loved.. At least that’s what they always brought in the past. Five minutes later, Henry James and his wife drove up with Boss and Rowdy in the backseat. Mr. and Mrs. James were the owners of the largest ranch in the area, nearly a hundred thousand acres. Boss was their ranch foreman, and Rowdy was their cook on cattle drives.

  As they drove up, folks were saying their hellos when someone called out, “Here comes another buggy. Looks like there’re four people in it.” When it arrived, Eli, a close friend and the owner of the town’s livery, stepped down, followed by the sheriff. Next, to everyone’s surprise, was Captain Willard. The captain had guided wagon trains from St. Louis to Flat Peaks for several years. In fact, most of the people at the party had come west in one of his trains. He was the person responsible for introducing Scar to John Long Routt, the first and present governor of Colorado. Lastly was a girl who looked to be in her mid- to late teens. The sheriff helped her down.

  “I’d like everyone to meet my niece from St. Louis, my sister’s daughter. Her name is Rebecca Jones, and she’ll be staying with me for a spell,” the sheriff announced. Rebecca was an attractive girl of average height and had a shapely figure. Unlike other women at the ranch, Rebecca’s dress was styled for the city. As she was being introduced, her eyes sparkled and her smile was pleasant. She seemed to be at ease.

  It wasn’t long before Eli cornered Mr. Douglas. “Where’s Scar and Liz? I haven’t seen them.”Mr. Douglas explained the situation.

  “He’s got us all worried, Eli. We’re hoping for the best, but deep down, I’m afraid something has happened to him. Liz is in her room. She can’t seem to rid her mind of bad thoughts.”

  The men were quiet for a short time before Eli said, “He’s been in all kinds of scrapes in the past, Herb, and has always come out on top. Scar’s one of the best men I’ve ever known at defending himself. If he doesn’t show up within a day or two and you need help, coun
t me in.”

  “Thanks, Eli. I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Douglas said with an outreached hand.

  Within minutes, the visitors were buzzing with conversations about Scar—not gossip, but words of sincere concern. Mrs. Douglas had gone after Liz. The girl was now mingling with the guests who were offering words of encouragement. She smiled, but her eyes looked worried.

  It was a beautiful Thanksgiving Day. The sun was bright. The temperature had climbed into the sixties. Some folks wore coats, and some didn’t. It was decided they would eat outside, so the men gathered planks from the barn and set up four tables, one for setting the food on and three with benches alongside for people to sit. It wasn’t long before the dinner tables were set with plates and utensils.

  Mr. Douglas announced the meat was ready and asked everyone to gather around. He prepared to lead them in a prayer of Thanksgiving. Folks circled the food table, and each held the hand of the person beside them. As heads were being lowered, Mrs. Douglas saw her daughter wipe away tears.

  Mr. Douglas was about to start praying when Morning Sun’s six-year-old son started pulling on his pant leg. “What is it, Little Eagle?” Mr. Douglas asked.

  The boy pointed south and said, “Maude is coming—someone is following. Maybe Scarred Warrior.”

  Chapter Four

  It was late afternoon when folks left the Double D. Like many western cookouts, everyone pitched in to clean the tables and grounds, putting everything back in its place. Mrs. Douglas divided the leftover meat into packages for every family to take home. Goodbyes were said. The women hugged before the buggies headed home. Alice and Herb seemed content their guests had enjoyed themselves and left with full bellies.

  Except for Scar and Liz, folks at the Double D returned to their normal selves after the party. But Liz had been upset when he got there for frightening her like that and was now still upset. She stayed at her mother’s side and as far away from her husband as possible. She wouldn’t forgive him for not returning from Pinneo on time. Scar did not push the issue. Instead, he changed into moccasins and kept to a porch rocker throughout the day, resting his feet. Morning Sun kept his cup full and from time to time brought him something to eat.

  The Saturday evening chores had been completed and the entire Douglas clan was in front porch rockers, holding cups, as they watched long shadows turn to darkness. The day’s temperature had been fifteen to twenty degrees above normal for this time of the year, but as night approached, the temperature dropped quite rapidly, bringing with it a breeze that caused people to put on coats.

  Words had been scarce before Thomas broke the silence. “Wonder how long the sheriff’s niece will be staying around. She sure is a pretty girl. Wouldn’t you say so, Jake?”

  Jake shrugged his shoulders and with a slight smile said, “I didn’t notice.” They all laughed.

  “Don’t give me that. I saw you eyeing her all afternoon,” Thomas said. The darkness hid the boy’s red face. Scar continued the harassment. “If I were you, I’d be making a call on her before long. You don’t want other guys beating your time.”

  Jake rose and headed for the bunkhouse but turned back to the porch and said, “When I need your advice on courting matters, I’ll ask for it.” His words brought smiles to everyone.

  It was late Sunday afternoon when Scar and Liz arrived home in Flat Peaks. Their three-room house was like many in Flat Peaks, small but adequate for the two of them. There was a front porch facing east with the barn and outhouse in the rear facing west.

  The ride had been long and silent. Scar tried to explain why he was so late returning from Pinneo, but Liz was still not relieved and in no mood to listen. She sat with her coat collar raised high, looking out her side of the buggy most of the way home. Mr. Douglas warned Scar she’d become extremely worried because he had not shown up on time, but Scar had no idea she was this upset.

  He carried the luggage inside and returned to take care of the horse and buggy, placing the buggy inside the barn and the Double D horse in a stall with a hefty feeding of corn and oats. In a couple of hours, he’d put it in the corral with Liz’s horse. Maude had been left at the ranch for her leg to heal.

  The house was cold, so Scar left his coat on while he started a fire. When the logs caught and the flames were burning high, he took the teakettle from the fireplace arm and filled it from the sink’s hand pump. Liz stayed in the bedroom for a considerable amount of time unpacking her suitcase, changing out of her traveling clothes, and doing anything possible to avoid her husband. When she came to the kitchen, Scar was sitting at the table with two cups of coffee poured and her chair already pulled out. He knew it would be best to keep quiet till she started the conversation, so they drank their coffee in silence.

  When Scar shifted in his chair, Liz heard water splashing. “What was that?” she asked.

  “I’m soaking my feet in a pan of hot water under the table,” he answered.

  “Why are you doing that?”

  “I have a few small blisters, Liz. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  Liz went for a towel. “Let me see them. Put your feet on the towel in my lap.” The big man followed instructions. What Liz saw was not a few small blisters. “Bart Carter,” she said in a scolding tone, “the soles of your feet are a bloody mess…nothing but raw flesh. How on earth did they get in this condition?”

  “Because of my walk back to the ranch in the snow. Boots aren’t made for walking, you know, especially if they’re wet.”

  “How far did you walk?”

  “I imagine it was about forty-five miles, maybe a little more. It took two days to get to the ranch. I started walking three days after Maude got hurt. I walked because I didn’t want Maude to be burdened carrying my weight. It could have caused more harm to her leg.”

  Liz raised his pant legs and saw a three-inch gash with pus in its center he’d gotten during his fall with Maude. “How did you get that?” she asked with a furrowed forehead. Scar decided there was no use holding back any longer, so he told her the entire story.

  As his story unfolded, Liz seemed shocked. “I’m sorry, Bart. I’ve been acting like a child.” He nodded and pulled her to him for a kiss.

  “Sweetheart,” he said with smiling eyes, “sometimes the worry about someone is harder to handle than the problem itself.”

  “Enough of this kind of talk,” she said. “It’s time we’re tending to your leg and feet.” While Liz headed off to get the salve and cloth wrappings, Scar leaned back in his chair and smiled. Sure am glad she’s finished being angry. It’s more upsetting than having the blisters.

  »»•««

  Scar woke to the smell of coffee the next morning. He put on his pants and slipped his moccasins over his bandaged feet. The fire was blazing, and Liz was pouring his coffee when he entered the kitchen. “Sit down, dear. I’ll have your breakfast ready in a few minutes.” Bacon was frying, biscuits were baking, and three eggs were on the counter ready to be cooked. “How are your feet this morning? They should be feeling a little better by now.”

  “They’re much better. Thanks to your doctoring,” he said. “I’m sorry I overslept this morning, and you had to do all the work. Do I have time to feed and water the horses before we eat?’

  “I’ve already done that,” she said. “I didn’t want you to be on your feet any more than necessary.” Scar felt useless. He looked at the wall clock. It was already seven o’clock.

  He was still sitting at the table drinking coffee when Liz went to the back door for her coat before heading for school. He quickly stood and was hobbling toward her when she said with a worried tone, “You shouldn’t be on your feet. You’ll only make them worse.”

  “Then you’ll have to come to me, sweetheart.” She smiled, put her books down, and with outstretched hands was pulled into her husband’s arms. After a lingering kiss, she pulled away. “Bart Carter,” she said with smiling eyes. “If you don’t stop this, you’ll cause me to be late for school.”
<
br />   “The kids can wait,” he said, pulling her back for another kiss. Liz agreed. The kids could wait.

  Scar watched her through the kitchen window as she hurried to school, which was only two hundred yards from their house. There were several children already there when she unlatched the door.

  Scar washed up a bit, combed his hair, and then went to the bedroom for a shirt and his saddlebags. As he left the bedroom, he paused, looking at the homey sitting room. It wasn’t filled with lavish furnishings but had an air of class about it. In fact, it could be said of all three rooms. Liz had done a wonderful job with the cabin considering her limited funds.

  When Liz returned to Flat Peaks in early June after two years of study in Philadelphia, she applied for and was given the town’s schoolmistress position. Shortly afterward, she rented and took possession of the house. Most of the fixing up had been done during the two months before school had started, during the time she had to nursemaid Scar after he was shot three times by the Abernathy brothers in early September. Scar had several run-ins with the brothers after he arrived at Flat Peaks, the last one causing them to be sent to prison. They accused Scar of being responsible for their imprisonment, so they shot him…three bullets hit him, and one was life-threatening. He almost died and was unconscious for ten days. When he had fully recovered, they got married.

  Scar pushed the memories aside and hobbled to the kitchen where he fetched another cup of coffee and sat down at the table. He removed an envelope from his saddlebags, which contained his job’s expense receipts and detailed notes of his cattle rustling findings at Pinneo. Two hours later he sealed his seven-page report and expense voucher to send to Governor Routt.

  The morning had been dragging before he thought of the Blackstone law books Thomas had given him when they were cooped up in snowbound conditions during their first winter at the ranch. Thomas had been a lawyer in Baltimore where he acquired the books before coming to Flat Peaks. It had been several months since Scar read them, so he decided to brush up on the rules they offered. He picked the first volume because it was the most informative on basic civil rights. The Majority Should Rule, but The Minority Must Be Protected. Thomas made notations in the book’s margins, and Scar underlined important principles during his past readings.