The Western Justice Trilogy

by Gilbert, Morris

  “That’s my father,” Chenoa said. She pulled up in front of the house and got down from the wagon.

  Mateo crawled down, and the rest of them dismounted from their horses.

  The old man got up carefully, slowly, and came down the steps. He was frail.

  Rosa had never seen him, of course, nor a picture of him. He was not a tall man, and his flesh was wasted. His face was lined, but his eyes were bright and active. He carried a cane and leaned on it slightly. His eyes were on his daughter.

  Chenoa stepped forward and said, “It’s been a long time, Father.”

  Frank Lowery studied this daughter of his whom he had not seen for years. “You look like your mother when she was younger. Not quite as pretty, though.”

  “I never was.”

  Lowery moved forward and stuck his hand out to Mateo, who shook it. “Good to see you, Mateo.”

  “We appreciate your having us.”

  “We didn’t get along too good the last time you were here.”

  “No, the last I remember you threatened to shoot me if I ever set foot on the place.” He smiled and said, “Now’s your chance.”

  “No, I’m past that. I can see you’re not well. Well, that makes two of us.” He grinned suddenly and laughed. “We’ll see which one of us lasts the longest.”

  Rosa had been watching the scene, taking in her grandfather. Suddenly he turned and looked her up and down. “You look like you might strip down nice.”

  Rosa had heard her mother speak about how awful her grandfather’s talk was.

  Chenoa snapped, “That’s no way to talk to your granddaughter!”

  “I like that. Your grandmother was like that. She didn’t mind speaking right up.” He studied Rosa and said, “You’re a good-looking squaw.”

  “I’m not a squaw.”

  “Well, you’re part squaw. What I figure is you’re one-eighth Crow. Anyway, you’re good-looking enough to draw some men to help us. But you keep yourself clear. I don’t need no great-grandchildren right now.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  “And who is this?”

  “This is Raquel, our youngest daughter,” Chenoa answered.

  “Are you a good girl, Raquel?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Lowery laughed. “I like that. Someone asked me once when I was just a boy, ‘Are you a good boy?’ and I said, ‘No, I was born in sin when my mother conceived me.’” He laughed at the thought and said, “I don’t know how I knew that scripture. I guess it about sums me up.” He turned and looked at Juan carefully. “You look like your pa did when he was a young man, which is good. Hope you’re as tough as he was when he came courting your mama.”

  “I’ve come to help you all I can, Grandfather.”

  “Good. Well, let’s go in the house.” He moved slowly up the steps. Rosa noticed he held himself carefully.

  “Are you feeling bad, Father?” Chenoa asked.

  “No, don’t feel bad at all. I had me a severe spell with my heart. Never was scared in my life, but that scared me. Thought I was a goner, so I move pretty careful now. Don’t want to stir that up again.” He made it up the steps, opened the door, and said, “Come on in. I got a passel of bedrooms. You can take your pick, except for mine.” They all filed in, and Lowery yelled in a big voice, “Ethel, get out here!”

  A big woman in her forties came through the door. She was plain but strong looking.

  “This here’s Ethel. She’s been taking care of me since I got too old. I done asked her to stay around. She makes the only good biscuits in the Territory. Ethel, I want you to fix us up a good meal. The prodigal sons and daughters done come home.”

  Rosa said at once, “I will help. My name is Rosa, Miss Ethel.”

  “I’m glad to see all you folks. He gives me trouble, but he gives me a home, too.”

  “You children go out and look the place over. I want to talk to your folks,” Lowery said.

  Juan and Raquel left at once, and Rosa went off with Ethel. She quickly discovered that the woman was blunt and plain spoken but seemed to have a kindly nature. “We got all kinds of stuff to make Mexican food. That’s what he likes best. His wife was good at it, but I never was. I can do the regular cooking. If you’ll do the Mexican, I’ll do the rest.”

  “Why, you’ve got all kinds of things here. We can make a fine meal.”

  The two women set about preparing the meal.

  Rosa asked finally, “How about my grandfather? He seems very weak.”

  “Well, he nearly died with that heart problem. He was in bed and couldn’t hardly move for a long time. He had a hardworking foreman who took good care of the stock. But when some outlaws were taking our cattle, he tried to stop them, and they kilt him. I think that’s really why your grandfather sent for you folks. I don’t see how you can help with the killers hangin’ out around here.”

  “Can’t the law do something?”

  Ethel was making a crust for a pie. She stirred the batter quickly and worked the flour in until it was pliable and said, “We’re in the Territory, Miss Rosa. The only law here is the federal marshals. Judge Parker’s court’s got about two hundred of them, but they got the whole of Indian Territory to take keer of. They can’t do everything. Then there’s the Choctaw Light Horse.”

  “Choctaw Light Horse? What are they?”

  “Indian policemen. But they only deal with Indian trouble. Don’t have nothin’ to do with white men.” She worked quickly and efficiently.

  “How did you happen to get here, Ethel?”

  “A drunk Cherokee killed my husband. I didn’t have no place to go, no money, nothin’, so Mr. Lowery brought me out here. That was four years ago. He was a strong man then. He kept the outlaws thinned out, but now they’ve been movin’ in, taking what they want.” She gave Rosa a direct look and asked, “What kind of place do you come from?”

  Rosa told Ethel how poorly they had been living. She looked up once and said, “Ethel, I’ll do whatever I have to on this ranch. If anyone tries to run us off or take it from us, I’ll put a bullet in his head if I can.”

  “That’s a good thought. You hang on to it. I keep a shotgun handy by the door. In case they ever try to come in, I’ll blow their heads off. Now, let’s get this meal going.”

  Lowery was reveling in the supper. “Look at all this! Chicken quesadillas with red sauce, burritos, tamales. Everything I like and all delicious. Miss Ethel, that’s the best meal I’ve had in a long spell.”

  “Well, I didn’t have nothin’ to do with it. Miss Rosa did all that.”

  Rosa said quickly, “My mother’s a much better cook, Grandfather.”

  “Don’t see how she could do much better than this.”

  All during the meal, Frank Lowery kept asking them questions about how they’d been living. Rosa and her mother did most of the talking, and finally Lowery said, “It sounds bad.”

  “It was worse than we’re telling it,” Chenoa said. “We needed a home badly.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

  Rosa spoke up. “Ethel’s told me about your foreman getting killed by outlaws.”

  “His name was Sam Butterworth. He was a good man, tough and hard, but he wasn’t harder than the bullets they put in him. He tried to stop Henry the Fox from taking some of our stock. Henry just gunned him down.”

  “Henry the Fox?” Rosa asked. “Is that his real name?”

  “Partly. His last name is Beecher, but mostly he gets called the Fox.”

  “Did you send word to the law?”

  “I sent word, but I couldn’t go in person. I was too sick by that time.”

  “I can’t really understand why you sent for us,” Mateo said. “Chenoa can take care of the house, but how do you think we can help with the outlaws?”

  “It’s just a start. We’ve got to build up a little army around here. It don’t have to be all that big, but they gotta be tough men.” He turned and looked at Rosa and said, �
�Rosa, I wish you was a man, but you ain’t. But you’re gonna have to do a man’s job. And Juan, you are second in command. We got three good hands left. They’re tough hairpins, and they’ve stayed with me when it would have been easy to ride off. Now, you two have got to learn how to shoot, and you’ve got to learn horses, how to ride ’em and how to take care of ’em. You’ve got to be willing to shoot a man if you have to. I’ve talked to Captain Canno of the Choctaw Horse Brigade, that’s the Indian policemen. Since you got Indian blood in you, Rosa, his band can help you, at least with Indian problems. But he’s got no authority over the white man. So that’s our problem.”

  “What can we do, Grandfather?” Rosa asked.

  “Well, Mateo and me are too sick to fight. Raquel is too young. So you two are gonna have to take care of it.”

  Juan at once said eagerly, “I can help, sir. I can shoot a little, and I’m a good rider.”

  “Good boy. Now listen. Today I want you to pick out your weapons, rifles and pistols. From this time forward I don’t want you to be without ’em. Sleep with ’em if you need to. I’ve got ’em in a room in the back of the house. We’ll get you gunned up, and then I want you to go out and get Ned Little to teach you how to shoot. Blinky knows all there is to know about horses. So ask him to give you lessons, and you’ve got to learn quick. The first time any man comes to do us harm, shoot at him. If you miss him, fine. If you hit him, good. And listen to Ringo Jukes. He’s tough as barbed wire and ain’t afraid of nothin’. If you back off,” he warned, “they’ll walk over you. So we got four men, counting Juan, and one woman. That’s our army right now. But if we make a good show, that’ll keep the worst off of us until we can draw some more men. You may have to throw a wink or two at somebody, Rosa, to make ’em want to come out.”

  “I won’t have to do that, Grandfather.” Rosa smiled. She was getting used to the old man’s teasing and liked him a great deal.

  He was silent for a time, and then Rosa said, “I have something to say, Grandfather. I’ve never had a home, not a real home, but I want this to be a home for us. I wish I were a man, but a man who takes a bullet from a woman is just as dead as one who takes a bullet from a man. All of us are grateful to you, and we want to be your family.”

  “I can’t ride or fight, Father,” Chenoa said, “but I can make life easier for you.”

  Lowery was silent for a while, and then he said, “You know, I won’t be long on this earth. I got to thinking one day what I’d be leaving behind, this house, this land, a few cattle. It’ll be all gone. But then I thought a man needs a family of his own blood, and that’s why I sent for you. I realized I hadn’t been the man I should have been with my family, but if you give me a chance, I think I can do better.”

  “Lead us to those guns,” Rosa said.

  He led them down to a room in the back of the house where, indeed, there was a small armory. Rosa and Juan found holster belts and .38s to put in them.

  “The .44s are too big for your hand. You hit a man in the brain and that’ll make him dead enough,” Lowery said. “Now, you go down and tell them worthless hands of mine they gotta teach you how to shoot, how to ride, and how to keep this place up.”

  Rosa and Juan left the house and headed for the corral where three men were sitting on the top rail. Brother and sister were both conscious of the pistols in the men’s holsters and that they were holding repeater Winchester rifles. They halted, and the three men stared down at them silently.

  The biggest of the men said, “You Mr. Lowery’s kin?” The speaker was a tall, lanky man, around thirty, with yellow hair and hazel eyes.

  “Yes, I’m Rosa Ramirez, and this is my brother Juan. Get down off that fence while I’m talking to you.”

  Startled, the three men leaped to the ground, and Rosa asked, “What are your names?”

  “I’m Ned Little.”

  “My grandfather says you know guns. Your job is to teach us to shoot pistols and rifles.”

  Little grinned. “Who you exactly plan on shootin’, missy?”

  “Anybody who gives trouble to this ranch.” She turned to a short rider with red hair and a mustache that was a mistake. “What’s your name?”

  “Blinky Mullins.”

  “You’ll be teaching my brother and me all about horses. We don’t know very much, but we can learn.” She turned to face the third man who was watching her curiously. He was six feet tall, strongly, built with handsome features. His hair was chestnut with a slight curl. “I’m Ringo Jukes.” He smiled suddenly. “What am I going to teach you, Rosa?”

  There was a suggestion in his voice, and Rosa said, “Nothing, until I teach you some manners. You see yourself as a ladies’ man?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “All right. You call me Miss Ramirez. You touch me, I’ll make you sorry.”

  Jukes sobered. “You ain’t too friendly, are you, Miss Rosa?”

  Rosa knew she had to bond with these men. “I don’t mean to be hard. I’m very grateful to all three of you for staying with my grandfather. I realize I’m just a woman and Juan’s just a boy, and you three can do things that we can’t. My grandfather’s a helpless old man, and so is my father. Gray Hawk has told me how hard this country is, and right now Juan and I aren’t able to take care of this ranch by ourselves.”

  She paused, dropped her head, and considered what to say next. The silence ran on, and then she lifted her head. “I don’t want to sound hard, but the job is too big for us. Only if you three help us can we survive. So I’m asking you, will you help us?”

  Ringo Jukes said quickly, “I didn’t mean to get on the wrong side of you, Miss Ramirez. I like your grandfather. I’ll be glad to help any way I can.”

  Rosa smiled. “Thank you, Ringo, and my friends call me Rosa.”

  “I’ll be glad to teach you about horses,” Blinky spoke up.

  Ned Little shrugged. “I don’t claim to be no sharpshooter, but I think I can show you how to put a bullet where it will discourage a man. You ready to start?”

  “Yes. Blinky, you start teaching Juan about horses while I learn how to shoot horse thieves.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Eileen began a letter to Faye late in the afternoon before the menfolk came home from work. She wanted to have time to reread it and make sure it was worded well, for his letters to her always seemed to touch her deeply. She put the letter away in a drawer in the bedroom and went downstairs to make sure dinner was ready.

  When the men came in, they had to clean up. Finally they came to the table. Their talk was of the factory and things that she knew little about, but she did sense that there was something about the way her husband did business that seemed cold and calculated. Knowing little enough about the world of business, she picked up on the fact that he was a hard man when it came to business tactics. She knew he did not mind using his power to crush a smaller and more vulnerable business opponent, and this disturbed her. But she could think of no way to change it.

  When the meal was finally over and the men went to the study to smoke and finish their talk, she went upstairs, took the letter from the drawer, and then went to the parlor. Sitting down, she unfolded it with hands not quite steady. She was not a woman easily disturbed, but the problems of this youngest son of hers occupied her mind. She prayed for him every day with all the power she could muster and hoped her letters reminded him of the home she longed for him to return to.

  Faye blew on the completed letter to his mother to dry the ink and then read it over to check for any errors.

  Dearest Mother,

  I wanted to get this letter off to you as quickly as possible because I have missed a few days. I hope you have not been worrying about me, as I am absolutely in no danger here. As I told you before, Judge Parker saw to it that I had a job, and the head marshal, Chester Swinson, sees to it that I have plenty to do.

  I am learning a great deal about horses. As you know, I have never been comfortable on a horse. To tell the truth I’ve always bee
n afraid of large animals, but that has been changing here. It is my job to take care of them, which includes cleaning up after them, grooming them, and seeing that they are fed properly. I’ve picked up quite a bit from the stable hand here. His name is Josh. He’s a black man and a fine Christian. He’s been after me to go to church with him, and I went last Sunday. It was a black Methodist church, and the preacher was very eloquent. The singing was nothing like we have in our churches. The people all sang at the top of their lungs, some of them raised their hands, some clapped their hands. They had the best time I’ve ever seen any congregation have. I understand the Methodists are like this, the old-time ones anyway. Maybe I can find a Methodist church that has some of the early beginnings in it.

  I’ve been getting plenty to eat here. There is no shortage of good food. The marshals come in at all hours after long trips. They’re always hungry, dirty, and tired, so it’s my job to see that they get good meals. I’ve even helped out by cleaning their boots and little things like that. I haven’t gotten to be friendly with any of them because it’s sort of like a men’s club. The marshals make a close confederation and stick together, and I can see that you have to buy your way in with deeds and not just words.

  I get up before daylight and work on preparing the breakfast with the cook. Afterward I clean up the dishes. Then Marshal Swinson puts me to some work that usually takes me the rest of the day. As a matter of fact, I hardly ever finish the list he gives me.

  As I was saying, I have never been comfortable around horses. I told you about Patsy, the one I rode on vacation. She was a sweetheart, but there’s a horse here that I’ve grown rather close to. Her name is Maggie, and none of the marshals will have her, or at least she’s always the last choice. I found out that she’s gentle, too lazy to buck, and the men think she’s not tough enough to go on the scout with them. That’s what they call it, “going on the scout.” But I’ve learned she’s very patient and never bucks. I’ve learned how to throw on a saddle and put on a bridle very quickly. I’ve learned to get on a horse without any problem and stay on. Well, there’s no triumph there, Mother, because any ten-year-old could stay on Maggie, but I’ve grown very fond of her.