For the Brand

by Ralph Compton

  “Handle what?”

  “You heard Miss Hendershot. One of her conditions is that the rustlers be dealt with before she’ll sit down with the lawyer and sign the papers. Abe wants us to tend to it right away.”

  “Why are you askin’ me?” Willis wondered.

  “I might as well start now,” Marsh said.

  Willis sat up and scratched his head. “You’re not makin’ any kind of sense.”

  “Aren’t I? Then let me spell it out for you. Miss Hendershot is goin’ to buy the Bar T. She also has her heart set on marryin’ you, and she told us at supper that you will be runnin’ things as much as she does. So I might as well start takin’ my orders from you now as wait until you slip a ring on her finger.”

  The notion of being the new boss stunned Willis. “Abe hasn’t signed the Bar T over yet. He’s the one you should talk to.”

  “Who do you think told me to come see you?” Reuben asked. “He says since you’ve run up against the Wilkes gang twice already, you’re the expert.”

  “I have no idea where they are or what they will do next.” But even as he said it, Willis realized that was not entirely true.

  “What’s that look?” Reuben asked. He was not foreman for nothing.

  “Somethin’ one of the Nargent brothers said,” Willis recalled, “about takin’ the cows they stole to a meadow.”

  Charlie came out of his chair. “I remember, pard. But there are a lot of meadows up in those mountains.”

  “The Nargents were headin’ northwest,” Willis said. “That narrows it down some.” He swung his good leg over the side of the bunk, then shifted his bad leg. “It has to have water, and be somewhere no one is likely to stumble across. That narrows the number more.”

  “I’ve hunted up that way a lot,” Sam Tinsdale remarked. “Just last year, in fact, I went after a bull elk there.”

  Willis had been over much of the same area back when he hunted, and sometimes went for long rides for the joy of riding. “My guess is the meadow would also be high up so they can see anyone who comes after them.”

  Sam Tinsdale snapped his fingers. “I recollect a meadow up near Buzzard’s Roost that fits the bill.”

  Buzzard’s Roost was a barren peak so named because it was vaguely shaped like a bird with a big beak. Willis proposed, “Then maybe we should go have us a look-see.”

  “How many?” Reuben asked.

  “Ten should be enough. Make sure each man has a rifle and plenty of ammunition and brings jerky and a canteen.” Willis marveled at how easy it was to make decisions when he put his mind to it. “You’ll be in charge.”

  “I figured you would be,” Reuben said.

  Ordinarily, Willis shunned going horseback because it reminded him of his condition. But he hadn’t minded riding with Laurella. He hadn’t minded that at all. “I don’t know.”

  “I never saw it fail,” Sam Tinsdale said. “It’s a sad fact that when a man takes a wife, he suddenly becomes delicate.”

  “I’m not wed yet,” Willis said gruffly, “and I’m as delicate as an anvil. So you can eat your words. We head out at first light. Reuben, you pick who goes and who stays.”

  “Right after I get back from fillin’ Abe in.” The door closed on the foreman.

  Willis propped his pillow behind him. Being top dog would take some getting used to. “One more thing. Anyone who wants to quit the outfit should say so by mornin’. There’s no sense in draggin’ it out.”

  “I’ll stay if you’ll have me.” Charlie grinned.

  Willis provoked cackles when he said, “I’ll have to think about it. The Bar T ain’t a cocklebur outfit. Hill-billy cowboys can’t keep up with us real hands.”

  “Why, you—” To a peal of general mirth, Charlie launched into a string of curses that would have done an army sergeant justice.

  Laughing as heartily as everyone else, Willis slapped his leg and leaned back. He could not remember the last time he felt so happy, so content, so at peace with the world, and he owed it all to the lady from Texas. On an impulse he slid off the bunk and limped to the door. “I’ll be up to the ranch house.”

  Sam Tinsdale put a hand to his chin and fluttered his eyelids. “Why, whatever could you want up there?”

  “I’d shoot you but you’re not worth the lead.” The night air was cool. Willis pulled his hat brim low and limped up the path to the porch.

  In the shadows a rocking chair creaked. “I was hopin’ you would come back.” Laurella took his hand. She was wearing her hat with the veil. “Let’s go for a stroll.”

  Arm in arm, they walked to the stable and on past it until they were alone under the stars with the cows and the grass and the wind. Laurella turned to him and Willis raised her veil and kissed her.

  “I could get used to that.”

  “You surprised me today. You never do what I expect.” Laurella rested her cheek on his chest. “How did they take it? Will there be a puncher left on the Bar T come mornin’?”

  “Elfie would be jealous if she found out how popular you are. Why, they would elect you president if you were to run.”

  “I didn’t scare any off?”

  “They think you’re the greatest thing since Hector was a pup.” Willis kissed her hair. “I happen to feel the same myself.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll wake up any moment now and it will all have been a dream,” Laurella said. “You’re too good to be true.”

  “I’m as ordinary as eggs. You’re the special one. Just ask the punchers you swept off their feet.”

  Her arms rose around his neck and they were still for a very long time, until she sighed and said in that small voice she sometimes used, “Oh, Will, I’m so scared—so very, very scared.”

  “Of what?” Willis dreamily asked, and ran a hand through her hair.

  “That you’ll come to your senses. That I’ll be crushed. That I’ll have to live the rest of my days as a spinster.”

  “I want you more than I want my knee as it used to be. If that ain’t proof, I don’t know what is.”

  “Tomorrow let’s go on a picnic. I’ll pack a basket and we can take the buckboard to that pool where we had a wonderful time the other day.”

  “Tomorrow?” Willis said. “I’m afraid I have other plans, and you only have yourself to blame.”

  Laurella raised her head. “How is that, dearest?”

  A warm tingle spread through Willis’ chest. No one had ever called him that before. He covered her good cheek with kisses and only tore himself from her with an effort.

  “My head is spinnin’. Tell me about tomorrow.”

  Willis explained about the rustlers and the meadow. He assumed she would be pleased but felt her fingernails bite into his arm.

  “Must you go yourself? Can’t you have Mr. Marsh or someone else lead them? The Wilkes gang are killers, and I’d rather not be a widow before I’m even married if I can help it.”

  “I’m not a turtle. I can’t hide in my shell while other men do what I’m supposed to do.” Willis reached for her hair but she pulled back.

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I. A ramrod who doesn’t pull his weight is worthless. The men won’t respect him.”

  Laurella clutched his hand. “Are you’re doin’ it to impress them—or to impress me?”

  “Maybe it’s to impress me,” Willis said. “It’s been so long since I could look at myself in the mirror with any kind of respect, I’ve forgotten what it’s like.”

  “And if I insist you don’t go?”

  “You can insist. You can yell. You can scream. You can throw things. But I have to do it.”

  Laurella hugged him tight and did not let go. “Our first tiff. Please let there be more. If you don’t come back, I won’t want to live.”

  “Now you’re spoutin’ nonsense,” Willis declared. “If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. Like they always say, if man is supposed to drown, he’ll drown in the desert.”

  “Please, Will.”
>
  For a long while they were still except for their breathing. Willis thought his left leg would cramp but it didn’t. It was working better than he ever dreamed it could.

  “So many stars,” Laurella said softly. “I’ve never seen the sky so lovely. A month ago I wouldn’t have noticed.”

  “A month ago we were fools.” Willis kissed her right ear and she trembled against him.

  “Where I come from, callin’ a girl names is not how to court her.”

  “What will you do while I’m gone?”

  “Wear a hole in the porch. I’ll have Elfie take me into town so I can send word to my parents. Be prepared in case they show up unannounced. My pa will want to take your measure and my ma will want to take my temperature.”

  Willis wrapped an arm around her shoulders and they began walking. “If I’m to be shot, it couldn’t be for a worthier cause.”

  “My pa is partial to hemp. I can talk him out of it, though, if you ask real nice.”

  Grinning, Willis leaned down to kiss her neck but paused when hooves drummed to the southeast. “Someone is in a hurry to reach the ranch. Maybe we should go back.”

  “Not just yet. Please. Whatever it is can wait.”

  They existed in a little world all their own. Willis closed his eyes and inhaled her scent and prayed the bliss would never end. Then the rider reached the stable and shouts broke out and several figures came hurriedly out of the house and others rushed from the bunkhouse.

  “Quite the commotion,” Laurella commented, “but it has nothin’ at all to do with us.”

  “We have to,” Willis said.

  “Is this how it will be? You always bossin’ me around?” But Laurella was smiling, if wistfully, and she did not object when he bent their steps toward the buildings. She did pull her veil down.

  Silhouettes moved in the light from a lantern. Men were moving in and out of the stable and bringing horses from the corral.

  “It’s an exodus.”

  “Or a war.”

  Abe was there, and Elfie and Reuben Marsh. Horses were being saddled as swiftly as the hands could saddle them. Rifles were being loaded. Revolvers were drawn from holsters and the cylinders checked.

  “Maybe it really is a war,” Willis said. He spied Fred Baxter beside a lathered horse, breathlessly relating a story to the Tylers.

  “—out of nowhere, I tell you! One second we were riding along and the parson was saying how in heaven everyone has wings and can fly like a bird, and the next he was in front of us with his pistols out, ordering us to throw up our hands.”

  “How terrible,” Elfie said.

  “I threw my hands up,” Baxter said, “but the parson just sat there. I whispered to him to do as we were told but he shook his head and said he did not give in to sinners and miscreants. I thought that would make the skunk mad but all he did was laugh.”

  “Who laughed?” Willis asked. Laurella had let go of him and was walking at his side.

  “Miss Hendershot! Will! There you are!” Abe exclaimed. “For a minute I was worried you had fallen victim to him, too.”

  “Victim to whom?” Laurella inquired.

  Fred Baxter answered. “The Flour Sack Kid. Reverend Merford and I were on our way back to Cottonwood when the Kid jumped us. He demanded our money. I gave him mine but Reverend Merford told the Kid he could rot in perdition before he would give him a cent.”

  Willis’ dreamy feeling evaporated and was replaced by a gnawing pang of anxiety. “The Flour Sack Kid?”

  “As big as life!” the store owner exclaimed. “You should have heard him. Mocking the reverend. Saying Merford was always looking down his nose at everyone when he wasn’t any better than them. Calling the reverend a poor excuse for a man of the cloth.”

  “Oh, Lord,” Elfie said.

  “Reverend Merford got madder and madder. Then the Kid said that he could keep his money, that he probably got it from an old widow or took it off a body at a funeral. The parson started yelling at him, calling him names I can’t repeat in mixed company.”

  Someone asked, “How did the Kid take that?”

  “He just laughed. He thought it was funny. He started to ride off but Reverend Merford grabbed him and shouted for me to ride for help. Since we were closer to the Bar T than we were to town, I turned around and headed back. But I hadn’t gone ten feet when I heard the shot.”

  “The Flour Sack Kid shot the parson?” Elfie was horrified.

  “Maybe one of his pistols went off when they were struggling,” Baxter said. “I really can’t say. I heard the shot and saw Reverend Merford fall from his saddle, and then I rode like the wind to get here.”

  Abe turned to the punchers. “You heard him, men. Our minister is lying out there somewhere with a bullet in him, and the Flour Sack Kid is to blame. If we catch him, we’ll do the same to him as we’ll do to the rustlers.”

  The ground under Willis’ feet swirled and the stars spun. A firm hand on his wrist brought him back to himself.

  “You best go with them,” Laurella said.

  Abe overheard. “Of course he’s going with us. He has a bigger stake in rooting out lawlessness and seeing that justice is served now that he has a vested interest in the territory”—he smiled—“or will soon enough.”

  Willis limped to the stable to saddle the zebra dun. He wanted to stall, to take so much time that his father would be long gone before they got there, but the others were impatiently waiting. As he rode into the open, Abe bawled a command and the avengers galloped down the valley.

  Willis found himself in the middle of the bunch. To a man, they were as grim as hangmen. And who could blame them? A parson was the spiritual pillar of a community, the man most looked up to after the doctor. Parsons never carried guns, never lifted their hands against other human beings. Shooting one was almost as despicable as shooting a woman.

  No one would argue Merford had his faults, but he was a reverend, and that made him special in the eyes of those he ministered to. When the townspeople heard about it, they would be as mad as riled hornets. The whole territory would be after the Kid’s hide. Accident or not, it was the worst thing the Kid could have done.

  They came on the horse first. It had drifted toward the ranch and was grazing at the side of the road. Abe had one of the hands bring it.

  A few hundred feet farther, and a lanky form lay sprawled at the edge of the road.

  “There he is!” Fred Baxter cried.

  Reuben Marsh was out of his saddle first. “Reverend Merford?” he said, carefully cradling the minister’s head on his leg. “Can you hear me?”

  Willis held his breath, fearing calamity, but the parson groaned and opened his eyes.

  “Who . . . ”

  Abe was by their side. “It’s Tyler, Reverend. Lie still.” He unbuttoned Merford’s jacket and bent low. When he raised his right palm, it was stained dark. “He’s bleeding bad. We’d better not move him. Charlie, you and Sam ride to town and fetch the sawbones.” Abe motioned at the rest of them. “What are you waiting for? The Kid can’t have gotten far. Spread out and search. In pairs, not alone! Fire two shots in the air if you find him.” Abe rattled off names and directions to take.

  Willis was paired with Bob Ashlon and told to swing east. Willis let Ashlon take the lead. Inside him, a war raged. Part of him wanted the Kid caught and hanged. The other part, the part raised by a caring father until his mother died, wanted the Kid to get away.

  “We’ll never find him in the dark,” Ashlon said over a shoulder.

  “We have to try,” Willis said. The Kid had a head start but fourteen other men were scouring the countryside, increasing the odds he would be caught.

  “They’ll double the reward bounty,” Ashlon predicted. “If he’s smart, he’ll head for Alaska.”

  Willis had a hunch that no matter how high the bounty climbed, his father would not leave. The man was as pigheaded as the year was long.

  Woodland loomed ahead. Ashlon drew rein and Willis c
ame to a stop next to him.

  “Do we risk our horses breakin’ a leg?”

  Before Willis could answer, two shots shattered the stillness. “The signal!” he said, and reined to the west, dreading the blast of more shots and the end to someone who once meant the world to him. But there were only a few shouts and the drum of heavy hooves. Other riders materialized and soon he was among a knot of punchers trying to pinpoint where the shots came from.

  “Was that you?”

  “No, it wasn’t me.”

  “Then who fired?”

  “Did you fire?”

  “Am I holdin’ my pistol?”

  “Well, somebody sure as hell fired!”

  “There!”

  Rafe Carter and George Trimble hove out of the gloom and reined up. “I saw him!” Rafe shouted. “I saw the Flour Sack Kid as big as life and as plain as I’m seeing all of you!”

  “Where?” someone asked.

  “This way! Follow me!” Rafe cried, and used his spurs. The others raced after him, whooping and hollering as if they were having the time of their lives.

  Willis hung back. He did not want to be there if they caught him. They would shoot on sight, and he could do without seeing the man who had helped bring him into the world shot to ribbons. “Please, Pa,” he said. “Please.”

  Then there was another shout, and a shot, and more shouts, and more shots, and Willis had the impression of horsemen riding every which way in wild confusion brought to an end by one more shot and the loudest shout yet.

  “I got him! I shot the Flour Sack Kid!”

  Chapter 17

  Nine or ten Bar T riders were clustered around a horse Willis recognized: the Appaloosa. Rafe Carter had hold of the animal’s reins and was crowing, “I shot him! I’m sure of it!”

  “Then where’s the body, boy?” Gus demanded.

  “He went that way,” Rafe said, pointing at a dark wall of vegetation some fifty to sixty feet away.