Dark Journey Home

by Cherie Shaw

  Logan chuckled, then stood and walked to the door. Stifling another yawn, he turned and said, “You know, Claude, if things get a little difficult, we can notify the law about what’s going on. Only if necessary though.”

  “Yes, well, this is a nice attractive little town, on the outside anyway, but it remains to be seen as to what is going on inside. The fewer folks who know who we are, the better for now. Although Garth did mention in his last wire that we should send a letter to the Texas Rangers’ office in Austin. Only if we need them though.”

  “Yes,” Logan offered, “I’m inclined to agree with your nephew. But we’ll know more in a few days. I have a good friend who’s a ranger, though I haven’t been in touch with him for quite a few years. Not sure if he still wears a badge, or not. If you do notify the Texas Rangers, though, you will need some kind of proof of your accusations too.” Logan stepped into the hallway, then spoke quietly, “Well, goodnight, sir.”

  “Night, Logan. And good luck.”

  Logan was more than ready to turn in for the night. Though when he had stepped into the hallway, he had noticed the light shining under Olivia’s door, which was next to her uncle’s, and wondered if she had heard him talking to Claude. He didn’t know how thin the walls were. Well, he’d missed seeing her at dinner, but then neither he nor Ricardo were supposed to be acquainted with anyone in this town, they needed to take care, for awhile anyway. Olivia was a beautiful woman, and he thought about her a lot, even dreamed of her sometimes. But then as he had told himself many a time, she lived in England. He was an American. They were worlds apart. What would he have to offer her? Nothing, but a dream of owning his own ranch someday. Someday? When would that be? It seemed that lately when he thought of his future, Olivia was always a part of those thoughts. He knew it was only a dream, but sometimes dreams help a man get by.

  Maybe at some point in the future, he would get to return to Wyoming. Home! So far, it had been a long journey. He’d get back there yet. He thought to himself, “Damn, though I’ll miss these folks when they return to England.” Then he glanced towards Olivia’s door again, before walking back to his room.

  <><><>

  Tired as he was, Logan had trouble sleeping that night, and at daybreak he and Ricardo were at once in the saddle, heading out of the picturesque town of Coyote Springs. Only a few folks were outside, an older man busy sweeping the wood plank porch in front of his hardware store, and a buckboard drawn by a couple of mules was slowly creaking down the main street, a farmer, wearing a battered straw hat, and driving the wagon, appeared to be dozing, not in any hurry to stop anywhere.

  The first rays of the morning sun had just risen over the eastern hills, and Logan spoke to Ricardo, as they left the town behind. “Guess I should have had at least a cup of strong coffee before we left, but I didn’t want to take the time.”

  “Ah, amigo, I have about a fourth of a bottle of my tequila in the saddlebags that might wake you up.” Ricardo snickered at his own joke.

  Logan retorted, “Very funny. But I don’t believe I’ll even answer that one. You know, all those years in captivity, all I dreamed about was being back in the saddle. I can’t believe I’m actually living that dream now. I sure owe Lord Beckford and his niece, and don’t believe I will ever be able to repay either one of them”

  “Si, amigo. I understand. Speaking of Claude’s niece. She is one lovely lady, is she not?”

  “I’ve noticed.” Logan muttered.

  “Well?” Ricardo pushed the point.

  “Enough, my Spaniard friend. She is not for me.”

  Ricardo laughed, “Just a thought, amigo, just a thought. But I have seen you eyeing the señorita a time or two. I won’t say more.”

  Logan was riding tall in the saddle on his roan horse that had the four white stockings, and Ricardo rode his sturdy two-year old pinto, as they now followed the narrow trail to the south and west. They’d been told that the Triple-B was about an hour’s steady ride from town. The air was crisp and cool as they rode at a steady pace, and the horses were fresh and eager to take to the trail, after a good rest at the local stables, with plenty of oats to satisfy their hunger. Logan and Ricardo had insisted on good treatment for the horses.

  “How’s the head, mi amigo?” Ricardo joked. “I should think that a night on the town, after so many ‘dry’ years, would cause you unending pain.”

  “Actually, my sadistic friend, sorry to disappoint you, but my head doesn’t hurt nearly as much as I would have expected.” Logan lied, and he really hadn’t slept well either, but he would never admit it to his friend. He needed that cup of hot coffee, and realized that he should at least have stopped for one cup. He hoped they had a pot on at the ranch.

  Logan looked over at Ricardo, and said, “If you’ll remember, you yourself are the one who swallowed most of that bottle last night.”

  Ricardo just shrugged, “Si, and it did not bother me in the least……though my Maria, she doesn’t like me so much now. But my lovely wife will miss me so much while I am gone these few days, that she will welcome me with open arms when I return to her.” Ricardo’s expression turned serious then, as he changed the subject. “What do you suppose we will run across at this rancho?”

  Logan thought a moment, then said, “First, before I make any guesses, we need to check out the layout and then, like the ramrod said, we break a few mustangs, or our necks, whichever comes first.”

  Ricardo laughed, “Ha, Señor Logan, it has been many a year since I have tangled with the wild ones, as it has been for you also, though I am sure that we will give it our best.” He sighed, then breathed deeply of the cool morning air, as they rode further, now entering the foothills, of scrub oak, small pines and wildflowers scattered throughout the area.

  Logan gazed off into the distance, “It’s a beautiful land.” He said, “Magnificent. Lots of good grazing around here.”

  “Si, the longhorns seem fat, lazy and contented, from what I can see from here.”

  “According to directions, we must be on Lord Beckford’s range right now. It’s a big spread, and covers many square miles.” Logan offered.

  The two rode quietly for awhile, enjoying a brisk, cool breeze, which was now softly blowing from the pine-studded mountain range, and the horses began a slow, but steady climb to the majestic forest. After about an hour’s ride, the trail wove through an ever thickening grove, heavily overgrown with the tall sweet-smelling pines, then after rounding a bend in the trail, the forest opened up to present a huge verdant valley, breathtaking in it’s view.

  The two men pulled up on the reins, then slowly scanned the wondrous scene below. Numerous buildings came to view, with smoke pouring from various chimneys, as cook stoves were being tended for morning meals. This was truly a working ranch, and from all appearances, an extremely wealthy one.

  “Would you look at that, mi amigo?” Stated Ricardo, as he took off his tall sombrero, and slapped it against his thigh, then slammed it back on his head. “There must be at least a dozen buildings on the place and each one the size of a mountain.”

  Logan answered slowly, “Makes my pa’s horse ranch look like a chicken coop. And Pa’s spread is large.”

  “Señor Beckford has no idea, mi amigo, no idea at all.” This is mucho wealthy spread, no? This rancho looks more like a small town, than a rancho. The buildings, they are magnificent. Then see the hacienda, over there to your left, apart from the other buildings. It would be fit for royalty, no?”

  “I’m more than impressed, Ricardo. This is much more than our friend, Claude, has expected. What a wondrous place.” Logan paused, then added; “Now let’s head on in, and see what we can find out. Just be extra cautious. We don’t know just who to trust once we hire on there.”

  “Si. Let’s just hope the chow’s good. My stomach tells me, it’s long past chow time.”

  Logan touched his heels to his horse’s sides, then Ricardo followed. They began a gradual descent to the wide picturesque valley below, an
d to whatever game awaited them at the ‘triple-B ranch’.

  As they slowly rode into the huge ranch yard, Logan assumed a devil-may-care attitude, and he casually scanned the surrounding area. Ricardo only shrugged his shoulders, as he took on the attitude of just a trail hand looking to hire out for a working man’s wage. Though a few heads turned, and nodded as they rode in, most of the attention was on what was happening inside the corral.

  The entertainment, at the moment, was centered on the young rednecked bronc buster who had just climbed onto the back of a not-so-broke-yet black stallion mustang. The wiry young cowhand, with the thick wavy blonde hair, had just lost his black Stetson to the dusty ground, and was having a rough time staying in the saddle. He was determined to ride that bronc though and gave his best effort, or so it seemed.

  Well, that black mustang just rolled his bloodshot eyes, and leaped straight up with all four feet suspended in midair, humping his sweaty back at the same time, and trying his best to do a sideways cartwheel, sending the young ambitious cowboy flying through the air, and landing with a thud in an ungraceful manner onto his Levi-clad backside. He quickly rolled over and grabbed his battered Stetson from the dust, and hightailed it for the nearest rail fence, with the maddened black bundle of horseflesh following after, nipping at his shirt with strong white teeth, lips curled back in a threatening manner.

  “Hey, what’sa matter, Smokey, you let that tame little mustang get the best of you?” One of the onlookers called out as he helped ‘Smokey’ escape over the fence, and from the aggressive teeth of the black stallion.

  “Dang it, Rusty, that’s my third attempt on that wild stallion. Thought sure I’d have ‘em tamed this time. He’ll sure make one hell of a cow pony, once he gets broke, but he’s sure a determined devil. Maybe you can try ‘im later, I’m all in for now.”

  Rusty, the older red-haired cowhand said, “Let it go for a while, Smoke, it’s chow time anyhow, an’ we may not get fed if we don’t head over there now. We’re supposed to ride fence today, remember?”

  Smokey looked back over the corral fence, as the black stallion trotted around possibly searching for an escape route. Then the blonde-haired cowboy slapped his black hat onto his full head of wavy blonde hair, and chuckled as he followed the older man across the ranch yard.

  Logan and Ricardo had been sitting on their horses, quietly watching the display. Then noticing that most of the onlookers near the corral fence had left and were ambling on towards what was obviously the ‘chow’ hall as that was where the aroma of coffee and frying bacon was coming from, they dismounted and began leading their horses towards that building.

  They’d decided to ask someone where the ramrod of the place was, when the boss himself stepped out from the doorway of the large building, obviously having just eaten, and was carrying a cup of coffee in his hand.

  “Howdy.” Logan spoke, as he recognized the cold, hard countenance of Jinx Holderman, the foreman of the ‘Triple B’.

  Obviously no formalities were required for Mr. ‘Full-of-himself’, as Holderman spoke quickly and abruptly, in just about the meanest tone of voice they’d ever heard. “If you haven’t had breakfast, chow’s in that building.” He pointed behind him, as he growled, “I expected you two hands earlier than this. Thought you needed work. I’ve no time to show you around now. Go fill your stomachs, then head on over to the stable and report to Chester Burns. He’ll show you where to stow your gear at the bunkhouse, then put you to work. If you don’t like to work, you can leave now.” Without waiting for a response from either one of them, he turned gruffly and stalked away, headed for the large two-story mansion, entered the walled-in courtyard, then walked toward the large heavy carved door of the entrance.

  Logan watched his retreat, and Ricardo said, “That hombre, he has about as much personality as a soaking wet panther on the prowl.”

  “Yeah.” Logan drawled, “It appears that our ramrod is one busy man.”

  “Si, mi amigo.” Ricardo answered, “A mucho busy hombre, though I can think of many more colorful names for the señor, only in Spanish would I say them though.”

  Logan chuckled, “I’m sure you could, my friend, though I do speak and understand Spanish fluently…….just thought I should let you in on that bit of information. So feel free any time you want to use some of that colorful language in describing our boss man. Just make sure he isn’t within hearing distance, at least until we find out what we want to know, then, by all means, be my guest.”

  Ricardo stared at Logan, and scratched his head, as he grinned knowingly, then slapped the huge sombrero back onto his head as they headed over to the chow building to eat.

  As they walked, Logan grinned and said, “The man really is full of his own importance, isn’t he?” He slapped Ricardo on the shoulder, and continued, “Well, the bigger the donkey, the louder it brays. Let’s go eat.”

  As they stepped through the doorway of the building, where numerous tables were set up, with long benches at each side, they immediately noticed the two hands, who had been riding the stagecoach, had just finished eating and were headed for the doorway.

  The two seemed sincere in their greeting, and shook hands. The older man, Bart McCain, said, “Say, it’s good to see you two. I hope this means that you’ve hired on.”

  Logan nodded, as Ricardo said, “Si. Hope the chow’s as good as it smells.” Then he headed over to the nearest table, and took a seat on one of the long benches. Logan remained for a few moments more to talk to Bart, as the other man, Cougar Olson, nodded and picked up his hat off a hook by the door, and stepped outside.

  “Well, I heard this place was hiring so decided to head out this way. Always ready to pick up a little extra pay and investigate new surroundings at the same time.” Logan slowly drawled, in an offhand manner.

  “You couldn’t have chosen a better outfit. Least…….the chow’s good, an’ the pay’s even better.” Bart said.

  Logan, taking on an offhand attitude, said, “Say, that foreman, Holderman…, he seems a bit abrupt. Is he a hard one to work for?”

  “Jinx? Nah, he’s okay. Well, that is, once you get to know him.” Bart stopped, and then added, “He just expects a day’s work for a day’s pay, no more’n any other place would expect. Only stay loyal to the brand is all. That’s all the owner wants too.”

  “That a fact?” Logan raised his eyebrows, took off his Stetson, and hung it on the nearest hook by the door, then combed his fingers through his thick black wavy hair, and continued on, “I can surely do that. Absolutely. I’ll be sure to be as loyal to the ‘owner’ of this spread as can be. They can surely count on that.” Logan grinned, and added, “I’m sure I can speak for my new friend, Ricardo, as well. Well, nice to see you again, pard.”

  “Same here.” Bart said, then stepped out through the door, stood on the porch breathing in the cool mountain air for a moment, then turned and stared back towards the doorway with a puzzled expression. Shaking his graying head, he then ambled on towards the stable to saddle his bronc. Cougar Olson was already saddled up and ready to ride, but waited for his friend. They then headed out towards the north range to check on the herd.

  Logan seated himself across from Ricardo, reached over for a cup, and the pot of coffee, and saw that it was strong and black, with a touch of alkali in it. Just the way he liked it.

  Ricardo put on his most impressive thick Spanish accent. “I heard what was said, amigo.” With emphasis he slowly added, “We most certainly will be loyal to the owner of this fine spread. Mucho loyal, no?” The breakfast was good and they ate their fill.

  <><><>

  Chester Burns, right hand man to the foreman, was a careful man. A no-nonsense serious westerner, who didn’t smile, probably never had, and after showing the two newest hands where to stash their gear in the bunkhouse, and assigning bunks, he motioned them to follow him to the stable and began introducing them to about a dozen of the wildest appearing mustangs they’d ever seen.

  �
�You two boys can spend the next two days working together, taming down as many of them ornery cusses, as you can. Keep tryin’ that mean black stallion over there, though some say it can’t be done. He’s put two of our wranglers to bed with sprains awhile back. If he cain’t be broke soon, we’ll just shoot ‘im. The boss, the foreman, Jinx, that is, wants to shoot ‘im, but the owner, that’s Woody Perkins, now he’d just as soon have ‘im broke. See what you can do. The rest of them shouldn’t be too much trouble.”

  That black stallion stood proud and erect in his stall, rolling his bloodshot eyes toward the two newcomers, and just seemed to be thinking up what forms of torture he could conjure up, to test the latest in a series of broncobusters, who had attempted to ride him. He stomped his feet and let out a loud snort of protest.

  Logan eyed the powerful animal, then turned toward Chester, and said, “Thanks for showing us around. We’ll see about taming down the big black for the owner. You said his name’s Woody? Not the horse, I mean, the owner?”