by Carré White
“Mind if I sit? It’s been a long ride,” the Ranger said. When Lottie indicated a chair, he took it, spun it around on a leg and sat backwards. She settled into the rocker facing him and idly scratched Belle’s head.
Rolf circled the Ranger from a distance, drawing closer and closer until the man rubbed the dog’s side with the toe of his boot.
“I’m Lottie Wright,” she said. “Father’s making a delivery down south.”
“Oh, Lord, I’m sorry. I’m Preston Grant, deputized Texas Ranger. Never been out this way before, this town always been this, er, quiet?”
Lottie shook her head. “Only since the war,” she began.
Preston Grant waved his hand. “I understand. Lot of folks down south, around San Antonio way – that’s where my offices are – left too. Convinced there’d be battles here. Of course, I can’t see anything at’all that would get the Union or the Confederacy excited about coming out here.”
He grunted a laugh and set his hat on the tabletop, spinning it around.
“Nice to meet you,” she said.
“Likewise.”
“Now, sir, what exactly are you hunting? And why did you come all this way?” She adjusted the tiny slip of paper in her sash, making sure it was secured. “Seems counter to reason to chase someone all the way from the Red River up into the panhandle.”
“Yes’m, well, he’s a crafty one. Been chasing him the better part of a year.”
Lottie’s eyes fell to the ground near her foot, where she could make out the barest outline of dust.
That must be where Colton settled last night. Oh Colton, if this is all true, I do hope my prayers keep you safe, presuming you’re not actually the outlaw this Ranger is hunting.
“Do you have any sort of identification about the man?” she needed to keep talking, otherwise she was likely to fall into the same strange longing that kept her company all the previous night. “What he looks like, that sort of thing?”
Seemingly unaware that she said anything, Preston continued his tired rambling. “I followed him all the way from Fort Worth to the Red. Had him as good as caught. He was holed up in a little inlet.” The Ranger’s voice, tight with frustration, trailed off. “Then I let him out of my sight. He always was a clever little basta – clever man.”
He cleared his throat. “Best as I figure, while I was securing the perimeter, making sure there weren’t any other crooks lurking about, he snuck down the river some and went off. Had to be to the west, on account of absolutely nothing except hard rapids and even harder woods if he went east, to say nothing of the Indian camps and the damn war raging on.”
“That’s awful,” Lottie said, careful to keep her voice even. “What did he look like? Do you have a name? This place isn’t exactly populous, but my father may have heard something at the train depot and said something. Assuming this is a known case, anyhow.”
With a shrug and a deflating sigh, Preston shook his head. “I might’ve been chasing this feller for a year, but the business down the river only happened a few days back. Making all this distance with nothing but an already tired horse and only having come through two towns on the way wasn’t the most fun I’ve ever had. I just can’t believe you haven’t...”
He stood up, spurs clanging against the leg of the chair. “Colton Howe is his name, but it isn’t an uncommon one, so I’ve learned. If he went by some dastardly moniker, that would make this all easier. Younger man, shy of thirty. Last I saw of him, he was wearing denim trousers, leathers, and a wide brimmed hat.”
Lottie had to stifle a nervous laugh. “That sounds a bit like, well, most everyone I see, to be honest.”
Colton? An outlaw? It just seems so absurd. But then again, he was in such a hurry to get on his way this morning. Maybe he knew that this man was close behind?
“He’s riding a squat, short, surprisingly fast mottled stallion. Wouldn’t know it by looking, but that little brown and white can sprint quicker than anything I’ve seen.”
Lottie’s heart slid straight into her stomach, but she didn’t outwardly react. “I see,” she said, looking at the floor. “Well sir, no, I haven’t seen anyone like that. No surprisingly quick, short horses either.”
Preston stretched his back from side to side and replaced the hat on top of his head. “No, I expected not. By the way, why are the chickens inside? Got a plenty fine barn out back, coop too.”
Glad to have a change of subject, Lottie picked Belle up off the ground as the rooster started flapping around.
“Dust storms,” she replied. “The coop is sturdy enough to stand, but the dirt gets through the slats and gets in their eyes. Pa never lets them stay in, but I’d rather deal with them pecking the floor in the morning than have to clean out their eyes and beaks.”
Once more she slid her fingers under her sash and secured the folded up paper.
“You feeling poorly? I see you prodding at yourself there, I can send for a doctor if—”
“Oh, that’s so nice of you. No, no, it’s just a nervous habit. Father says that it’s better than chewing my fingernails, but not much. Can I get you anything to eat?” She edged nearer the door, hoping Preston was able to take hints. “Something to drink for the trail?”
“Would you mind?” The Ranger said. “There’s a whole lot of land between me and... Hell, wherever I’m going next. Though I suppose I can’t chase a gunfighter into another state. I mean, I could, but that is often frowned upon by the government.”
“Gunfighter?” Lottie asked as she made her way to the kitchen. “This man you’re after is a killer?”
“It’s a little bit of a strange story,” he said with an odd hitch in his voice that told Lottie there was something personal between them, though the man said nothing of the sort. “I didn’t see the business with my own eyes, but this Mr. Howe was accused of stealing a wife, then throwing down on the man he stole it from. I have my doubts, but such a serious charge, well, we have to answer it.”
Preston Grant continued to grumble as Lottie boiled a pot of water, prepared him a tin container full of hot coffee, and wrapped a few day-old biscuits, along with a small block of cheese and boiled some eggs. When she re-emerged, the tired Ranger couldn’t help but grin.
“Seems an awfully long way to go in pursuit of someone you’re not sure is guilty,” Lottie called from the kitchen, more to assure herself than anything else. “A year chasing a man? I didn’t think even the worst outlaws were given such treatment. I’d heard that the Rangers were lacking for budget and the like?”
“That’s all true enough. This one’s different though.”
Lottie’s emergence from the kitchen with an armful of goodies, and a hot canteen of coffee gave him a welcome break from the inquisition. When he saw her, his eyes visibly lightened; his shoulders relaxed.
“Oh now that looks a treat,” he said. “This’ll keep me going for days. And much obliged for the coffee. Looks to be winter coming on a little early this year. Is this early for these parts? I don’t get much in the way of winter down my way.”
“This is about normal,” Lottie said, silently counting off the months in her mind. October, November, December. “Coldest part of the year usually falls around Christmastime, but we get only the shortest falls and springs before either the cold or the heat sweeps through. I imagine it’s got something to do with being up here on this plateau. Of course, all that aside, you know what they say about panhandle weather. It can go from freezing to hot and back in one afternoon.”
“Yes’m,” the Ranger said. “Lack of trees as well. Nothing to keep the wind down. That can’t help.”
He took a step back and tipped his hat in thanks. “Do appreciate it. I’d offer to return the tin, but I don’t know if I’ll be back in these parts.”
“No, no, not to worry. We’ve plenty more,” Lottie said, touching the Ranger softly on the shoulder and leading him to the door. “I’ll keep an eye out for this gunfighter.”
Preston pushed the door of
the little house slightly ajar before a surprisingly powerful wind whipped it the rest of the way. He turned up his collar to block the chill, and Lottie pulled her shawl up around her neck.
“Take care now,” Preston said, hopping onto his horse in a smooth, practiced motion.
The wind’s chill bit deep; what had been a calming whistle through the shrub trees out front the night before had turned nasty. Before long, snow was coming. She didn’t have her father’s way of reading the weather, but she’d been around long enough to pick out big changes.
Ranger Grant was halfway down the path which led to the north-south trail that stretched from Almos to Santa Fe heading west and Kansas heading north. Lottie stepped back into the doorway, shielded from the wind, but kept watching until he disappeared from sight. The door swung shut on its own, carried by another gust of cold.
Lottie took the folded paper out of her sash and laid it atop the table. She wanted to read it, badly, but something told her she needed to settle in beforehand.
“Need a fire before a freeze sets in,” she said to Belle. “And you need to eat.”
With the chickens shooed outside and Rolf curled up around one of her feet, as she rocked slowly in front of the fire, Lottie finally reached for the note.
“Lottie,” she read, imagining the words in Colton’s voice. “I wanted first to thank you again for your hospitality, and then two apologize for two things. The less serious of the two is that I stole two of your eggs, and a pair of biscuits on my way out the door this morning. As a way of making up for that, let me tell you the biscuits were simply devine.”
She smiled and giggled at how he misspelled divine, but continued reading.
“Second, and much more to my shame, I want to let you know that I will undoubtedly have been trailed by a Texas Ranger, who has been riding my rear-quarters halfway across this great state. There was a mix-up... a miscommunication of sorts... near San Antonio about a year back, and I might have pulled a gun on someone.
That ranger will no doubt ask after me. If he does, don’t think badly of him. He’s only doing his job. Well, his two jobs. You see, not only is he the head ranger for San Antonio, he’s also my uncle. He looked after me for a time after my ma and pa passed, but after the mishap in San Antonio, I wanted to leave all that behind.
Her hands trembled as she read the last paragraph.
“I meant what I said – he can’t follow me all the way to Kansas unless he wants to be breaking the law himself, so I assume he’ll follow me a ways and then turn around. That’s why I told you I’d come back through in a couple months. I suppose that’d make it right around Christmas. Seeing your pretty face sure would be a welcome gift.”
At that, Lottie blushed furiously as she grinned. The letter was signed, simply, CH.
Somehow it made sense. The old man’s unwillingness to give up more than that his quarry was somehow different; that he didn’t quite believe the charges, but went to the ends of the earth to find him. Her hand trembled as she set the folded paper back on the table, leaving it sitting like an a-frame tent.
Silently, she rocked back and forth, the floor creaking underneath.
Thinking about Colton and his uncle gave her a pang of longing for her father.
“Well,” she said to Rolf, scratching his head with her toe. “Suppose we should feed the chickens.” Busying herself was all she knew to do, and there was plenty to be busy with if winter was coming on so early. “Father will be back in a day or two,” she added. “Hopefully.”
Chapter Four
“Come home, hoping for a roaring fire and some hot bread, and all I get is a face full of snow and chickens on my chairs!”
William roared with laughter as he pushed open the door, and then slammed it quickly shut to keep the freezing wind out of his the entryway.
“And what’n the hell’s the reason for that hole in the porch?”
He unbuttoned his collar, shook the snow off his hat and opened his arms for Lottie, who fell into them straight away.
“Oh it’s so good to see you, pa. I brought the chickens in to keep them out of the cold, and the hole, well, that’s quite a story.”
Will smiled, his eyes twinkling under his huge, snow-capped eyebrows. “I’m sure it is. Sure it is. Big holes in porches tend to have interesting stories to go with them. But before you get to telling me why I have to patch a busted porch, I could sure use some of those hot biscuits you’re famous for, and some coffee, too. Cold as anything out there. Came on quick, too.”
“Famous? I’m famous for biscuits?” Lottie smiled, detaching from her father and retreating to the kitchen to put on a pot to boil.
Will nodded. “Oh yes, didn’t you know? Famous to me and, well, I suppose the neighbors had them a time or two. That counts as fame. Maybe.”
Lottie smiled and let out a deep sigh. “I’m so glad you’ve come back. Rolf started worrying when the snow came and you were still gone. Pacing back and forth as he does.”
With a deep groan, William Wright stretched, and then collapsed into his chair. Just as he did, Rolf came loping up to him and jumped up with his forepaws on his master’s knees. “Did somebody miss me?” A few moments of scratching were just what Rolf needed, and once he was satisfied, he curled up, warming Will’s feet.
“I could’ve done with a furry dog sleeping on my head last night. This snow came straight out of nowhere.” He paused as Lottie emerged from the kitchen with a steaming mug. “Oh yes,” William said, wrapping his hands around the hot metal. “Feels good to warm these aching old fingers.”
After watching him sip his drink for a minute, Lottie decided to sit while the biscuits warmed.
“A horrible wind came through here,” she said. “Came through two days ago, just as the Ranger was leaving.”
“Ranger?” William asked, cocking his eyebrow. “Didn’t know there was a station anywhere up here.”
“There isn’t, he came from San Antonio, looking for some criminal – or,” she paused to correct herself, “rather someone accused of a crime that the Ranger himself found unbelievable.”
Will furrowed his brow, obviously trying to figure out what sort of meaning to take from what Lottie told him.
“Sounds as though a great deal happened while I was off shipping grass.” He blew over the surface of his coffee, sending a plume of steam shivering down the side of his cup.
As the biscuits warmed, Lottie related the strange story of the mysterious stranger who stayed the night, showed the most wonderful politeness, and then was gone early the next morning. He sat there, listening intently, never once speaking up or interrupting, even for a joke.
That was very rare for Will.
The only time he made her stop was when he got to guffawing over the tale of his daughter almost shooting the stranger, but losing her grip and having the gun blast through the porch.
“Hold on just a second,” he said, gasping with laughter and wiping at his eyes with his still-icy handkerchief. “Oh, that’s almost as refreshing as this coffee. I haven’t laughed like that for a good long time. I only wish I’d seen it.”
Lottie pursed her lips in feigned irritation, but then joined his laughing. “Luckily the buck all went that way,” she pointed out to the flat land behind the house, “instead of through the roof. That would be most unfortunate with all this snow going about.”
William wiped his eyes again, blew his nose, and settled down for her to continue.
When she got to the part about the Ranger, her father had finished his coffee and went back for more before sitting silently through that bit as well. Finally finished recounting the wild adventure of her last few days, she smelled the biscuits, and went to fetch them from the oven.
Returning with three steaming, buttered biscuits, she almost dropped them when she saw Colton’s letter in her father’s hand.
“You seem to have acquired a smitten suitor,” he said with a grin crawling across his face. “Though it worries me that he’s some s
ort of gunfighter. Not quite sure I want my daughter pining over a murderer.”
Blushing furiously, Lottie handed over the biscuits then playfully swatted her father’s arm. “It’s nothing of the sort,” she said. “As far as I knew, he was just a traveler who needed a night’s rest and some food. Though he didn’t take any.”
“Except the two eggs—”
“Yes,” Lottie said, smiling, “except the two eggs, and the biscuits. He really was dashing, pa. And very polite. I tried to allow him use of my bed, but he flatly refused.”
“Hum,” Will grunted. “Wouldn’t have been very comfortable. You’ve a small bed, not much room for two people.”
“Father!” she shouted, slapping his arm again and laughing. She almost made him drop the biscuits, which made Rolf stare upwards, longingly. The dog looked so pitiful that Will gave him a bite of one. “How vulgar are you? Very plainly I meant that I would not be in it!”
“All right, all right, settle down.”
“I missed you so badly, pa. You’ve no idea.”
“No,” he said. “I do.” Will rose to get more biscuits and kissed Lottie on the forehead on his way to the stove.
Two more biscuits found their way into his mouth before Will returned to the living room and sat down heavily, the chair creaking underneath him as he rocked. “This man can write,” he said. “And he only misspelled a handful of words.”
“He was wonderfully polite, once he got over my almost shooting him.”
Will patted his belly and sighed. “Any rate, we’ve got too much to do to sit around here talking. If winter really is coming this early, we need to make sure our wood’s dry and under the shed. As well, I’d prefer not to live in the same house with chickens, so we should probably get that coop patched up and as windproof as we can. Did you happen to go down the way to any of the other farms?”
Lottie shook her head. “No sir. Once the winds set in, I didn’t want to chance getting caught out in the cold without any way back. But,” she paused, sipping her own coffee, “what do we need at the other farms?”
