Lone Star Ranger

by James J. Griffin

  “Sure thing, Nate.”

  Nate rapidly drew, and soon a rough image of Zack and his horse appeared on the paper.

  “You can put your gun away now, Zack, but stay up there a bit longer,” he said. “I want to get a few more details before you get down.”

  “All right, Nate. I’ll stay in the saddle as long as I need to, for a picture.”

  Several other Circle Dot E hands, having been told by Zack what Nate was up to, had come out of the bunkhouse, and watched as Nate sketched.

  “You mind doin’ a picture of me, Nate?” Justin Bendlak, a young cowboy about Zack’s age, requested. “I’d sure be pleased to have one.”

  “Me, too, if you can?” Nicolas Pearson, another young waddy, added.

  “I’d like one of me with that sorrel colt I’m tryin’ to break,” Hunt Knudsen, the ranch’s head wrangler, said.

  “Sure, I’ll do as many as I can before the light’s gone,” Nate said. “These are just quick sketches, so they won’t be as nice, or have as much detail, as a real painting, but you’ll sure be able to recognize yourselves. I promise you that.”

  “I dunno. That drawin’ you’ve got there of Zack seems pretty darn good to me,” Hunt said. “How about you fellers?”

  The other men murmured their agreement, and nodded.

  “All right then,” Nate said. “I’ll be done with Zack’s picture shortly. Justin, I’ll do yours next. Why don’t you fellers figure out what you want to wear, change clothes if you need to, then come back here? Think on how you want to pose, too.”

  “We’ll do that. Be back quick as we can,” Justin answered. He and the other men went back to the bunkhouse, while Nate continued penciling in the final details of Zack’s portrait.

  ♦●♦

  Nate spent most of the day drawing pictures of any of the Circle Dot E hands who wanted one. The crew was a mixture of men of almost all ages, races, and backgrounds. There were young men looking for adventure, as well as veteran hands. About half of the men were white, a third Mexican, the rest blacks—most of those, former slaves. It turned out almost every man did ask for a drawing, so Nate only took a break for his noon time dinner, then got back to work. It was about four in the afternoon when Hoot and Clarissa came riding in, Hoot on his horse Sandy, and Clarissa on Slate, a steeldust gray, one of the ranch’s horses. They stopped close to where Nate was just completing a sketch of Kyle Newton, another of the spread’s cowboys.

  “Howdy, Nate. What’re you up to?” Hoot asked.

  “Drawin’ some pictures of the cowboys around here,” Nate answered. “I was wonderin’ where you’d gotten yourself off to. I reckon I don’t have to ask. Guess the cold doesn’t bother you all that much, after all.”

  “Me’n Clarissa took a ride down to the Rio,” Hoot answered. “We took along a picnic lunch. Her ma gave us fried chicken and all the fixin’s.”

  “Kind of chilly for a picnic, ain’t it?” Nate asked.

  “It was a bit nippy. Good for snugglin’, though,” Hoot replied. Clarissa leaned over in her saddle and slapped his shoulder.

  “Henry Harrison, go on with you!” To Nate, she continued. “Don’t believe a word he says. We just took a leisurely ride, ate a nice meal, and watched the river. That’s all. And now it’s time for me to say good night. My mother and father will be looking for me. We were supposed to return an hour ago.”

  “Clarissa, before you go back to the house, why don’t you let Nate draw a picture of me and you?” Hoot suggested.

  “Henry, I’d love that,” Clarissa said. “Would you mind, Nate?”

  “Not at all, I’d be happy to,” Nate answered.

  “Wonderful. But I really should let my parents know I’m home,” Clarissa answered.

  “I can do that for you, Miss Hennessey,” Kyle offered. “Nate’s just about done with my picture, anyway.”

  “I keep telling all you boys, my name’s Clarissa, not Miss Hennessey,” Clarissa answered. “Thank you, Kyle. You’re a sweetheart.”

  “It’s no trouble, Miss Hennessey,” Kyle answered. “And I’m sorry, but I just can’t call you by your first name. You’re the boss’s daughter. It wouldn’t be proper.”

  “Here’s your picture, Kyle.” Nate handed him the drawing, which showed Kyle seated on the corral fence, gazing into the distance.

  Kyle took the picture, looked at it, and smiled.

  “This is just perfect, Nate,” he said. “I’m gonna send it to my ma, back in Wichita. She didn’t want me to leave home, but I didn’t want to spend my life clerkin’ in my uncle’s store. I wanted to be a cowboy, ridin’ the trails and sleepin’ under the stars. Never realized cowboyin’s mostly hard, dirty work. But I still love it. Anyway, thanks for the picture, Nate. She’ll sure be happy to get this.”

  “De nada, Kyle. Hoot, if you and Clarissa are ready, I’ll get started on your pictures now. I’m guessin’ you’ll want two copies… one each,” Nate said.

  “You guessed right,” Hoot answered, with a grin. “Clarissa, I’d kinda like to have this picture showin’ us settin’ on our horses, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Of course it is, Henry. Whatever you’d like is fine with me,” Clarissa answered.

  “Then, let me get started,” Nate said. Once Hoot and Clarissa were in place, he began sketching. With the light starting to fade, he worked quickly. He had almost completed the first drawing when Consuela came from the main house.

  “Senorita Clarissa, supper will be ready in thirty minutes,” she said. “Your mother would like you to come up to the house now, so you can clean up and change before the meal.”

  “Tell her I’ll be along in a few minutes, Consuela,” Clarissa answered. “Nate has to finish my picture first.”

  “You can go on ahead, Clarissa,” Nate said. “I’m just about done with this one. I’ll make a copy of it tonight, and get it to you tomorrow.”

  “Are you certain, Nate?” she asked.

  “I am. I don’t need you and Hoot to pose for both copies. I’ll just draw another one from this one,” Nate explained.

  “And I’ll put up your horse, so you don’t have to worry about him,” Hoot added.

  “Thank you, Henry.” Clarissa leaned over, gave Hoot a kiss on the cheek, and dismounted. She handed her reins to him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I hope.”

  “As long as we don’t have to ride out, I’ll be here,” Hoot promised her. “Good night, Clarissa.”

  “Good night, Henry. Consuela, are you walking back to the house with me?”

  “You go without me, Senorita Clarissa,” Consuela answered. “I need to speak with Nate for a moment. Tell your madre I’ll be along in time to serve supper.”

  “Of course. I understand.” Clarissa gave her a knowing smile. “I’ll see you at the house.”

  “You wanted to talk to me, Consuela?” Nate asked.

  “Didn’t I just say that?” Consuela answered, her voice petulant.

  “Yeah, I reckon you did,” Nate answered. “What’s wrong? You sound a bit upset.”

  “Wrong, Nate? Whatever gave you that idea?” Consuela retorted. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m not the least bit angry. Just because you promised me days ago that you would draw my picture, which you haven’t gotten around to yet, and now I find you drawing pictures of everyone on the ranch but me, why should I be angry?”

  “Consuela, I’m sorry,” Nate tried to apologize. “I didn’t plan this. I was sketching some of the ranch buildings, when Zack asked if I’d draw his picture. I didn’t know just about every hombre on the place would show up, wanting their pictures done too. I’ll draw you tomorrow, I promise.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Consuela snapped. “I want you to draw my picture, right now.”

  “I can’t,” Nate said. “The light’s getting too dim. And don’t you have to get back to help serve the Hennesseys’ supper?”

  “That has nothing to do with this, Nate.”

  “I don’t want to see you get in t
rouble on my account, just because I forgot to do your picture,” Nate answered. “I’ll tell you what. After supper, once your work is done, why don’t you meet me back here? We can go in the barn, and I’ll sketch you by lantern light.”

  “I’m not certain,” Consuela answered, hesitating. “I really shouldn’t.”

  “Please, Consuela,” Nate said. “The soft light from the lantern will be very flattering. You’ll look beautiful.”

  “I’m still not sure. It wouldn’t be… Oh, all right.” Consuela gave in. “I’ll meet you at seven-thirty, unless Senora Louella has more chores for me.”

  “Great. I’ll see you then.” Nate gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

  “Pretty smooth, pard,” Hoot said to Nate, once Consuela was out of earshot. He nudged him in the ribs. “Convincin’ her to meet you at the barn, after dark. Where it’ll be just you and her, alone. Just the two of you. With all that nice, soft hay.”

  Nate punched Hoot on the arm.

  “Hey, I’m just gonna draw her picture, that’s all,” he protested. “I told her I would, days ago.”

  “Sure you are. And all me and Clarissa did was watch the river, Nate. No cuddlin’ at all,” Hoot said. “Now, you want to give me a hand with these horses?”

  “I reckon I can do that…Henry,” Nate answered, chuckling. Hoot thumped him in the stomach.

  “Nobody calls me Henry.”

  “Except Clarissa…Henry,” Nate said, still laughing.

  “Well, the day you’re as pretty as her, and have curves in the same places she does, Nate, then you can call me Henry, too,” Hoot said. “Until then, my name’s Hoot, and don’t you forget it. Now, let’s get these animals put up.”

  ♦●♦

  During supper, Nate sketched a few pictures of the Rangers as they ate, then excused himself by saying Red had a cut he wanted to check, and left for the barn. He waited anxiously, until there was a gentle knock on the closed door.

  “Nate? Are you in there?” Consuela softly called.

  “Yeah, I am. C’mon in.”

  Nate slid the door open, just wide enough for Consuela to slip through, then closed it behind her.

  “I’m glad you came, Consuela,” he said.

  “I nearly didn’t. And I’m still not certain I should have,” Consuela answered. “I’m sorry I’m a bit late, but I had to help Senora Louella with some mending. You’ll do this drawing as quickly as possible, won’t you? I don’t want to be missed at the house.”

  “Of course I will,” Nate promised her.

  “Gracias, Nate. Where would you like me to be?”

  “On that bench over there, between the two lanterns,” Nate said. “The light’s just about right, and I figure it’ll be the most comfortable spot for you, since you’ll have to stay as still as possible while I draw.”

  “All right. If you’re ready, I’d like to get started,” Consuela said. “Like I said, I’m still not really comfortable doing this. It just doesn’t seem right. Perhaps I should have said no, or at least brought along Senorita Claire or Senorita Clarissa, so we would not be alone.”

  “I’m just waitin’ for you to get in place,” Nate answered. “And there’s nothin’ to worry about. I’m just gonna draw your picture.”

  Consuela walked over to the bench, then removed the heavy, dark wool shawl she wore. Nate gasped when she turned, and showed him her outfit.

  “Consuela… you’re, you’re beautiful!” he exclaimed.

  “Why, muchas gracias, Senor Nate,” she said, giving him a demure smile. “I am glad you think so.”

  Consuela was clad in a fairly low cut white blouse, with lace trim on its bodice, and a flowing, multi-colored striped skirt. A mother-of-pearl mantilla held her long, black hair in place. In the soft light of the lanterns, that hair resembled an ebony waterfall.

  “I’ve never seen you dressed like that,” Nate said.

  “That’s because you’ve only seen me when I’m working,” Consuela answered. “Now, shall we begin?” She sat down, smoothed her skirt, tilted her head slightly, and smiled at Nate. That smile took his breath away.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I reckon we should,” Nate said. He picked up his pad and a pencil, and began to draw. Despite the chill in the air, his face seemed flushed, and he felt a warmth clear down to his toes. “I’m gonna do a couple drawings, if you don’t mind,” he said. “One for me, one for you.”

  “That’s just fine, Nate,” Consuela said. She sat, motionless, only the soft heaving of her bosom indicating she was even alive, as he drew. Nate quickly dashed off one picture, had her change her pose slightly, then drew another.

  “We’re finished, Consuela,” he said, as he tore the pages from his pad, and handed them to her. “Choose which one you like best. I’ll take the other one.”

  Consuela took the drawings, and looked at them for a moment.

  “Nate, these are wonderful. They’re perfect,” she said. “I love them both. I can’t decide right now. Would you mind if I took them both with me, so I can see them in the morning light, then choose? I’ll bring back whichever one I decide not to keep.”

  “Of course,” Nate answered. “You can keep both of them, if you’d like.”

  “No. Then you wouldn’t have one of me, and I want you to have my picture, to keep with you as you ride,” Consuela said. “And perhaps some day you can draw one of yourself, for me.”

  “I’d crack a mirror if I looked in one to do that,” Nate answered, with a laugh.

  “No, you would not. Not at all,” Consuela said. “You really are quite handsome. Now, I really should return to the house, before I am missed. Buenas noches, Nate.”

  She lifted her face to Nate, and gave him a quick kiss. Before he even realized what he was doing, Nate had his arms wrapped around her. He returned the kiss, eagerly, then pushed himself away.

  “I-I’m sorry, Consuela. I didn’t—I mean, I shouldn’t…”

  “Shh.” Consuela touched a finger to his lips. “It’s all right, Nate. I liked your kiss. Perhaps…” She left the sentence unfinished. Instead, she pulled him to her, and kissed him once again. She put a hand on his neck, and held his face to hers for a long, lingering kiss. They fell back on the bench.

  “Nate,” she said, softly.

  “Don’t say anything,” Nate answered. “You don’t need to say a word.” He pressed his lips to hers, holding her tightly. He began to run his hand down her back, but stopped at the sound of rapidly approaching horses.

  “Riders!” he exclaimed.

  “Riders?” Consuela echoed. Her eyes grew wide with fear.

  “Yeah. Comin’ in fast,” Nate said. “And at this time of the night, it can only mean one thing…trouble.” He pulled the gun from his holster. “You stay here until I see what they’re after. Better yet, get up in the loft, and stay there, until I’m certain it’s safe.”

  “Nate…”

  “Do it, now!” Nate snapped. Consuela ran down the aisle and scrambled up the ladder, into the hayloft. Nate waited until he was certain she was out of sight, then slid open the barn door, just enough so he could look out over the moon-covered landscape. The shadowy figures of several horsemen, just cresting the rise overlooking the Circle Dot E, were rapidly approaching. Nate squinted, attempting to make out their features in the dim light of a just rising crescent moon. As the riders drew nearer, he could see there were three of them. They reached the bottom of the hill and rode straight for the Circle Dot E’s main house.

  “Consuela, they’re headed for the house,” Nate whispered. “You stay hidden, until I figure out what they’re up to.”

  “All right,” Consuela answered, “but be careful, Nate.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Nate said. He slipped out the door, and started for the house. He noticed Captain Quincy, Jim, and Dan emerge from the Rangers’ bunkhouse.

  Clearly, the rest of the Rangers had also heard the riders, and Captain Quincy would not let them go unchallenged. Nate smiled when he realized only
those three men were going to leave their quarters. That was another lesson he’d learned from Captain Quincy. Never show every card in your hand until you had a good idea what the other feller was holding.

  The captain was obviously leaving the rest of his men in reserve, in case of real trouble. At the main bunkhouse, Nate knew, the ranch hands would also be on alert for trouble, and even now most likely already had several guns trained on the newcomers.

  The three men reached the house and dismounted. One held the reins of their horses, while the other two stepped onto the porch and knocked on the door. Nate could make out a bit of their faces by the light from the lanterns hung on each side of the door.

  Another bad sign, Nate thought. If those hombres weren’t in a hurry, they’d have tied their horses and all three gone into the house.

  Charlie Hennessey, holding a Winchester in his hand, answered the knock. Behind him, Nate could see his son Brian, also holding a rifle. Brian’s was already pointed at the strangers, while Hennessey held his at his side, ready to swing up and put into action at the first sign of trouble.

  “Can I help you men?” Hennessey asked. His voice drifted to Nate through the still night air.

  “Mebbe,” one of the men answered. “We’re trailin’ a couple of hombres we figure might have come this way. We were gainin’ on ’em, until the storm hit night before last. We had to hole up until it blew over. By then, all their tracks were wiped out, but this is pretty much the only way they could have gone, unless they got lost, and are lyin’ in the brush somewhere, froze to death. You had anybody come by this way?”

  “That depends,” Hennessey answered. “First, I want to know why you’re after these men. Do you mind tellin’ me that?”

  “I reckon that’s none of your business, mister,” the second rider said. “Quit wastin’ our time. You gonna tell us if those men are here or not?”

  “Not until you answer my question,” Hennessey answered. He lifted his rifle and pointed it at the nearest man.

  “Lower that gun and get outta our way, mister,” the first man ordered. “You’re interferin’ with the law.”