For the Brand

by Ralph Compton

  “How do you do?” the woman from Texas said in her low and somewhat hard voice.

  Willis was surprised at her grip. She shook his hand firmly and strongly. Her hand was not pale and callus-free, like Elfie’s. It was bronzed from the sun and had seen a lot of work.

  “Why don’t you come inside?” Elfie was offering. “You must be tired. Rest up today and begin your inventory tomorrow.”

  “In Texas we get things done and then we rest,” Laurella Hendershot said. “But I wouldn’t mind a glass of that lemonade I see on your porch.”

  Willis was trying to see her face through the veil and could not. The veil was peculiar in that while Hendershot could plainly see out, no one could see through it. He stepped back, unsure what he should do, and figured it best to await instructions.

  “I’ll have one of the hands bring your things inside,” Abe said to Laurella.

  “That’s not necessary. Armando sees to my needs. But I thank you for your kindness.” The woman from Texas turned to Armando and the pair exchanged a flurry of Spanish. The end result was that the tall man in black began toting her trunks and bags inside.

  Willis would have dearly liked to help but he could not carry anything heavy on account of his shattered knee. So he stood there, feeling as useless as a wart on a toad. Armando looked at him once as he went by but did not say anything.

  Little Sparrow had given Laurella Hendershot a glass of lemonade and Hendershot lifted her veil to drink it.

  Hoping for a look at her features, Willis was disappointed when she shifted toward the house. He could tell nothing other than that she had a mouth.

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here,” Elfie said. “Anything you need, anything at all, you have only to ask. Our home is your home.”

  “Maybe soon in more ways than one, eh?” Hendershot said, a suggestion of a grin in her lilt.

  “That is my fervent prayer,” Elfie said.

  “You don’t cotton to ranch life much, do you, Mrs. Tyler?” Laurella Hendershot asked. She had finished the glass in great gulps, as a man would, and lowered her veil.

  “Please. It’s Elfie, remember? And no, I freely admit I do not. I was born and raised in a city and I am a city girl at heart. The country life has its charms but they are not enough to keep me here.”

  “We’re opposites, then. I was born and bred on my pa’s ranch and ranchin’ is the only life I’ve ever known or wanted to know.” Hendershot stepped to the rail and gazed out over the Bar T. “I’ve been wantin’ a ranch of my own for some time now. I’ve looked and looked but none have impressed me as much as this one. Your spread is right fine, from what I’ve seen of it so far.”

  “You’ll see every square inch if you want,” Abe said. “I have my books ready for you to inspect, too.”

  “The ranch first, the books second. I trust you keep a close tally and can account for any discrepancies I might come across?”

  “I count my cattle regularly,” Abe assured her.

  Willis saw Abe give him a sidelong glance but could not begin to guess what it signified.

  “Well then,” Hendershot said, “why don’t you have your man there give me a tour of the bunkhouse and whatnot?”

  “I’ll do that myself, if you don’t mind,” Elfie said merrily. “It’s so rare to have another woman to talk to.”

  Willis went to follow them but Abe gestured, so he stayed where he was. Suddenly Armando flashed by him and caught up to the women. At a word from Laurella Hendershot, he fell into step behind them.

  “What do you think of her?” Abe was at Willis’ elbow.

  “Too soon to say. But I have to wonder. What sort of woman wears a veil everywhere? She doesn’t strike me as shy, so she must have another reason.”

  “She does,” Abe said, then leaned toward him. “Forget that right now. What’s important is that you don’t mention anything about the rustlers to her.”

  “I don’t?”

  “No. If she finds out the Wilkes gang are helping themselves to our cows, it might reflect on the sale. Elfie wouldn’t want that.”

  “So I’m to lie?” As a general rule Willis avoided lying but he was not overfussy about it.

  “Not at all. I’m simply asking you not to bring the subject up. If she does, then yes, of course, be honest with her. But don’t volunteer any information she doesn’t ask for. Understand?”

  “I savvy,” Willis said.

  “Don’t be angry. I know I can trust you to do the right thing. It’s part of the reason I chose you.”

  “What’s the other part?”

  As if to change the subject, Abe said, “Have you heard about the Flour Sack Kid hanging around?”

  “Around where?” Willis asked, confused by the abrupt change of direction.

  “Here. The Bar T. Karn and Posey swear they saw the Kid watching them through his spyglass from up in the trees in the north valley two days ago. And last night Ed says he thought he saw a rider with something over his head right here in the home valley.”

  Willis forgot all about Laurella Hendershot and the rustlers and everything else. “Why would the Kid be sneakin’ around the Bar T?” He knew the answer but he had to pretend it was a mystery.

  “Who the hell knows?” Abe responded. “As if I didn’t have enough on my mind with the Wilkes gang and Hendershot and the sale and everything. It’s enough to make me think I did something to get the Almighty mad at me.”

  “Maybe Ed only thought he saw the Kid.”

  “Did Karn and Posey only think they saw him, too?” Abe pursed his lips in thought. “Odd that he should be nosing around. Surely he’s not thinking of robbing me? I’ve never made a secret of the fact I keep all my money at the bank.”

  “Who can explain outlaws?”

  “You have a point. It stands to reason that the Wilkes gang would have left the territory by now, what with everyone out to treat them to a hemp social after the shoot-out in town. But we had more cows go missing in the past few days, so they must still be around.” Abe sighed. “When it rains, it pours, and then it pours some more.”

  “I won’t mention the missing stock to Miss Hendershot.”

  “Thank you. With any luck she won’t notice. She can’t possibly expect to count every last head.” But Abe did not sound certain of that.

  Willis was thinking about the Kid. “Too bad Keever and Ivers got themselves killed. Where’s a lawman when we need one?”

  “Fred Baxter at the general store asked me if I knew someone who might want the job,” Abe revealed. “There aren’t any takers as yet.”

  “No one likes to be a walkin’ target.”

  “True. It takes a gent with a lot of grit to wear a tin star.”

  “Or someone with a hankerin’ to die.” It had been Willis’ experience that lawmen as a rule lived shorter lives than most everyone else.

  “Baxter was wondering if perhaps you were interested.”

  “If that was a joke, it was in poor taste.”

  “No joke. The townsmen have a list of candidates—locals who can take over the job right away and do a halfway decent job. Your name is high on their list.”

  “Hell, I don’t know a damn thing about the law,” Willis said. The notion was absolutely preposterous.

  “Baxter says learning the law is the easy part. It’s enforcing it that’s the challenge. But you don’t need to be a gun hand, like Wild Bill Hickok. All you need is to be able to talk to people and keep calm in a crisis.”

  “I don’t talk much.” Willis had a dozen objections and that was only the second.

  “You can when you want to. The problem is you haven’t wanted to since your mishap.”

  “Don’t tiptoe around it. Call it what it was. My stupidity.”

  “We all make mistakes,” Abe said. “Personally, I admire you for trying to save the stallion. You always did love horses.”

  “Folks say love is blind and they’re right.”

  “That applies to lovin
g people, not horses,” Abe said. “But what you did was commendable.”

  “What I tried to do.”

  “It’s the trying that counts,” Abe declared. “We never accomplish anything in this world without trying. Look at me and the Bar T. If I’d never tried, I wouldn’t own one of the best ranches in the territory.”

  “You won’t own it much longer.”

  “That was cruel,” Abe said. “You think I’m happy about it? I’m not. Well, part of me is, the part that loves Elfie, but the part that loves the ranch wants to tell that Texas woman to go on back to Texas. The Bar T is mine, damn it!”

  “Told your wife any of this?” Willis asked, overstepping himself but not caring. Abe had brought it on himself.

  “Some,” Abe said defensively, “but I didn’t put my foot down, if that’s what you’re hinting at. When you’re married, you will understand. There’s give and take involved. Sometimes the man gives and the woman takes and sometime the woman gives and the man takes.”

  “You’re talkin’ Greek,” Willis said.

  Abe smiled. “You faker. You’re the same with people as you were with horses. You care but you won’t admit you care because when you care you get hurt more than when you don’t care.”

  “Say that again real slow. You lost me after the second care.”

  Abe indulged in a rare expletive. “The only one you’re fooling is yourself. But that’s your right and I won’t criticize.”

  “Thank you.” Willis looked for the women but they were in the stable. “How much longer, you reckon?”

  “It could be ten minutes. It could be an hour. What say we wait on the porch out of the sun and treat ourselves to more lemonade?”

  “No chance of whiskey?”

  “I would love one myself but Elfie wouldn’t approve. Escorts should not reek of liquor.”

  “One drink isn’t a reek. It’s a whiff.” But Willis resigned himself to going dry for the duration of his official responsibility.

  Abe rested his boots on the rail and looked down the valley. “Do you remember how it was in the old days? In the beginning when there was nothing here but grass and more grass? I took a big risk having that herd brought up. Every last cent I had was invested in those cows. A stampede would have ruined me.”

  “When we’re young risks seem smaller than they are,” Willis observed. “It’s a miracle most of us live to old age.”

  “Do you ever wonder why things are the way they are? Why God puts us through so much hardship? Why suffering and misery are our lot in life?”

  Willis glanced at his left leg. “I think about it every damn day.” He refrained from adding that Abe had no idea what true suffering was like.

  “If the sale goes through, you will come visit us in Saint Louis, won’t you?”

  “Sure.” Willis would never set foot east of the Mississippi River.

  “Bring some of the others. Charlie would love it. So many fine women, he’d walk around with his mouth hanging open.”

  “I hope you’re happy there, Abe. I really do.” In Willis’ case, true happiness was as rare as a hen’s teeth.

  “I’ll be with Elfie,” Abe said. “When a man is with the woman he loves, he has all he’ll ever need.” He pointed. “There they are now.”

  The women had emerged from the stable and were sashaying toward the bunkhouse. Elfie, Willis noted, did most of the sashaying. Laurella Hendershot’s stride had none of the enticing sway and bounce of a typical female.

  Little Sparrow brought a new pitcher of lemonade. A fly buzzed about the porch but lost interest. Somewhere a cow lowed. Down by the chicken coop, the hens were pecking and scratching. The rooster strutted among them, and when he wasn’t strutting, he preened.

  “I’ll miss this life,” Abe said softly.

  “It’s not too late to change your mind,” Willis suggested.

  “It was too late the moment I said ‘I do’ but I didn’t realize it at the time. Not that I ever regret saying it. If I had it to do all over again, I would do it the same. I love her that much, Will.”

  “You’re a lucky man, Abe.” Secretly Willis did not consider Abe lucky at all.

  An hour and ten minutes was the total. Elfie bubbled over with smiles as the women and their shadow came to the porch and she graciously offered her guests more refreshment. But the veiled hat moved as if on a pivot.

  “I’d rather have your man give me a tour of the home valley, as you call it. He can take me to the north valley tomorrow and the south valley the day after.”

  Willis had hoped to have it over in one day, not three. Pushing out of the rocking chair, he limped to the steps. “I’ll have the team hitched to the buckboard. Your team must be tuckered out.”

  “They had ample rest earlier,” Hendershot said. “Armando, you will wait here until I return.”

  “Por favor, Senorita Hendershot,” Armando said, and launched into rapid Spanish. The woman from Texas answered in kind. Whatever she said brought a scowl to Armando’s swarthy face but he bowed slightly and said in English, “Whatever you want. But I still think it unwise. Your father would agree.”

  “This is not Texas. There are no Comanches.” The veil rose toward Abe. “Have you had any Indian troubles recently, Mr. Tyler?”

  “None in ages,” Abe said.

  “See, Armando? I am perfectly safe. You worry too much.”

  Willis limped to the buckboard as quickly as he could to help her up but she climbed on herself and folded her hands in her lap. The veil followed him as he limped around to the other side and pulled himself up. He adjusted his left leg with his hands, then bent for the reins. “How would you like to go about this, ma’am?”

  “The important thing is for me to see all the cattle. Can we do it in the buckboard or should we ride?”

  “We can do it in the buckboard.” Willis avoided looking at the Tylers and flicked the reins. The buckboard was larger than the Bar T’s but handled as well as any buckboard could. He drove slowly, racking his brain for things to say.

  “You seem uncomfortable, Mr. Lander. Is something the matter?”

  “No, ma’am,” Willis said. It was a good thing he wasn’t fussy about lying because he was doing a lot of it lately. “It’s just I’ve never escorted anyone before.”

  “Rest easy. I won’t be a burden, I promise.” Laurella Hendershot paused. “To be honest, I am a bit surprised Mr. Tyler didn’t handle this himself. It’s customary where I come from.”

  “You’re no more surprised than me,” Willis admitted.

  They passed the stable and the bunkhouse, where several of the punchers stared in envy. The buckboard hit a rut and the seat bounced and Laurella Hendershot grabbed at her hat as if afraid it would fly off. “Mrs. Tyler has told me a lot about you,” she commented.

  “There’s not that much to say.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. At one time you were the best bronc squeezer in the territory. There wasn’t a horse you couldn’t break.”

  “There was one,” Willis said.

  “You never hurt the horses. You never broke their spirits. You treated them with respect.”

  Willis said nothing.

  “I admire that. How a man treats animals says a lot about the man. I’ve met many a bronc fighter who spoiled more horses than they tamed.”

  “The bad ones do. The lazy ones. The busters who don’t learn the trade as it should be done. The ones who think beatin’ a horse is the same as tamin’ one.” Talking about his passion made him want to talk more. “My pa reared me to treat every livin’ thing as I treat myself. Do unto others, he always said. To animals as well as people. A horse is an animal, sure, but it has feelin’s the same as we do. Treat a horse kindly and it will be kindly to you”—he frowned—“most of the time.”

  “We could have used you on my pa’s ranch. He always complained half his bronc twisters were worthless.”

  Before Willis could stop himself, he heard himself ask, “What’s a Texas gal doin’ all t
he way up here in Wyomin’ Territory, anyhow? Last I heard, Texas had enough space for more ranches than Wyomin’ has trees.”

  “Oh, I could have a ranch in Texas if I wanted,” Laurella Hendershot said. “But I don’t want to.”

  Since the conversation was going so well, Willis made bold to inquire, “Is your pa leavin’ his spread to a brother? Is that how it goes, Miss Hendershot?”

  “I’m an only child.”

  “Oh.”

  “I want out of Texas, Mr. Lander. I want to live somewhere new—a place where no one knows me or has ever heard of me.”

  “I never heard of you.”

  For some reason Laurella Hendershot laughed softly. “I value my privacy. Almost as much as I value my self-respect.”

  Now she had lost him and Willis grappled for a reply. “You can have as much self-respect as you want in Wyomin’.”

  Again she laughed. “You’re quite the wit, Mr. Lander. But self-respect doesn’t come from outside a person. It comes from inside a person. And it’s a lot like teeth in that you never miss it until it’s gone.”

  “Teeth?” Willis was completely perplexed. Texican women could talk rings around a tree.

  “Ever had a tooth pulled? You don’t miss it until it’s gone. My grandma had an entire mouth of false teeth and she used to cry sometimes, she missed her real teeth so much.”

  “I’d cry, too,” Willis said. “Thank God I’ve still got all mine.” He was beginning to like talking to her. She was easy to talk to. But then she brought his world crashing down about him.

  “Mrs. Tyler told me about your leg. It’s a pity.”

  A red haze filled Willis’ vision and a lump formed in his throat. “It’s a hell of a lot more than that, ma’am. Pardon my language.”

  “You’re excused. I would be upset, too, if I lost the full use of one of my legs and my livelihood, besides.”

  “I get by.”

  “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. And I admire you for that, too—for not lettin’ your loss turn you into a wreck. I’ve seen men drown themselves in bottles over far, far less.”