“Skipper, get us a wagon to carry him to Doc Proctor, he’s the best at gunshot wounds. His house is only a block and a half away. See me afterward, O’Malley. Boys, let’s all of us settle down. Things will be fine.”
Then Hickok told the guy he called Skipper to load the dead man in another wagon headed for the undertaker.
Harp and Kirby were there by then. Skipper found them a wagon and they lifted Boone into it, his pal Kirby going with him.
“Tell them your bosses will pay the bill,” Long shouted after him.
“I can handle it, sir.” Kirby jumped on the wagon to go along with Boone.
Harp asked Long, “What happened here besides Boone being shot?”
“Those boys from that herd we passed down in Texas shot him, I guess, for passing them.”
Harp shook his head in amazement. “Guess folks hold grudges.”
“They do. Anyway I see Jan coming. We’ll handle the doc business, but we better warn the others about this threat.”
“I will do that tonight. Is he real bad off?”
“He was bleeding. It was in his left shoulder.”
“We can talk later; go on down there. You kill a man?”
“He shot at me. I told them it was self-defense. They didn’t act like they had time for it and packed him off.”
“Reconsidering the whole thing, you may face a grand jury or revenge from that other outfit. I am sending two men to back you at the doctor’s office. Don’t say no. These are desperate times. Jan and I need you.”
She frowned. “I dang sure do.”
Long laughed and shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
“I am going to be damn sure you are. Watch him,” he said to her, and turned on his heel.
“I will, Harp.”
They headed for the doctor’s office under the heating-up sun to check on Boone.
“This was over passing that bunch down in Texas?” she asked, hurrying along beside him.
“Boone said it was. He was the one they shot.”
“People have gone crazy.”
He agreed and led her across the traffic-crowded street. On edge that those shooters weren’t through—he eyed everyone in the crowds and on the sidewalk hurrying in case there was someone looking for him. When he shut the door of the house where the yard sign said DOCTOR HALE PROCTOR, he felt better to have her out of harm’s way.
A woman in white met him.
“You have my cowboy Boone here?”
“Yes. They are removing the bullet. Will you have a seat in the living room? Doctor Proctor will tell you all about it when he finishes.”
“Fine. Thank you.”
Behind his glasses, the gray-headed small man introduced himself as the physician. “Your employee should be fine in a few days. We have the bullet out of his shoulder. Barring an infection he should be back to his work in six weeks. He is a very tough young man.”
Long agreed. “Should one of us stay here?”
“No. He will be fine. I had them give him some painkiller to sleep. Rest will increase his recovery.”
“Will the damage cripple him?”
The doctor shook his head. “He may never know they did it.”
“Good. He works for us and is a valuable man.”
“We will get him well.”
“Thanks. Some of us will be by to check on him tomorrow. Good evening.”
He and Jan lost no time heading for supper at the Cottage. They were there early enough to get seated and had turned in their food order, when a man in Texas-style clothing stopped at their table. He had an expensive-looking, weathered felt hat in his hand. “Ma’am, excuse me, but my name is Clyde Nelson and, well, I live in the same area down there in Texas you all live at. I wanted to introduce myself. I own some land inside your new ranch. It was my grandfather’s and he earned it in the war for Texas Independence. It is a full section. We have not used it for years, but they say you are buying land inside the borders.”
“Have a seat, Clyde,” Long said.
“No. I’ve been in the saddle a lot—”
“Don’t worry about that,” Jan said. “Haven’t we all?”
“Yes. Thank you, ma’am.” He took a chair.
“After you introduced yourself, I remember seeing the name on my map. You don’t use the place?”
“It is very isolated . . . my brother and my wife wouldn’t consider it. My grandfather loved it and died there. My mother told my father if she had to live down there she would not marry him. He built a ranch west of Kerrville. And he and I talked about selling the place.”
“There is no ranch headquarters left?”
“Oh, I was there three years ago, and the house was boarded up and it is in good shape. Corrals are not. But it does have an eight-acre natural lake, which is why he took up that land. It is an unusual feature.”
“Very unusual. Six thousand dollars.”
“These cattle drives have raised the price of land haven’t they?”
“I would say so, Clyde. When Harp and I took eight hundred head to Missouri two years ago, you’d have had to pay someone to take it off your hands.”
Clyde raised his hat brim with a finger. “You are right. When I get back home I’ll talk to my dad and brother. I think you are making a fair offer. We’d like to buy some more land out our way; we can see prices soaring with this cattle money coming home even at a lower price than last year.”
“Exactly why Harp bought the big parcel when it was on sale. I didn’t get home until Christmas and he had already bought it.”
“Long, your brother is a real businessman. People all over say he may be the smartest man in west Texas.”
Clyde ordered his food.
“Harp is a smart guy. But two years ago we were near Sedalia, Missouri, facing an army out to kill us. He whipped up on their big man and then hired him and his men to work for us to deliver the cattle.”
“I’d not heard that story, but I knew you had plenty of opposition going up there. The war wasn’t over was it?”
Jan shook her head. “You two were at Fort Worth when they said Lee had surrendered?”
“Captain thought since the guard in the west was pretty thin we could skirt Van Buren, Arkansas, and get around the army and go on to the railhead.”
“Boy, you were lucky Lee surrendered.”
Long put down his fork and smiled before he sipped his coffee. Then said, “No, we were dedicated to do that job. There won’t ever be a force like them. Captain was going to pay us fifteen bucks a month if we got them through.”
“Cheap help.”
“Not really. There were no jobs at all in Texas, no money, nothing down there. It made the two of us tell Mom why we’d be rich coming home.”
“I see.”
“Those two have come a long ways, haven’t they?” Jan asked him.
“Yes, and I am honestly jealous because I could have done it if I’d seen the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow was in Sedalia.”
“It was for us.”
“How did you find her?”
“You want me to tell it or you do it?” he asked his wife.
“I was married to a good honest man. An old man who lived up around Waco decided I needed to leave him and be his slave. My husband became so angry, he went off to find them and shot two of them—they killed him. Some ranch hands and I tried to hold the ranch together. They ran them off and came by, kidnapped, and doped me. I pretended to be more doped than I was and managed to escape them. But I passed out. Fell off my horse. He wandered off to Long’s camp who was just passing through. From there Long planted three of the old man’s boys and had him and his other sons arrested. Then deputies shot them.”
“Wow I never heard that story.”
“We’ve been together ever since.”
“Nothing comes easy, does it?”
“No, but I’m lucky. Not only for finding her, but our first cattle drive. Sure we broke some new ground, but I don’t think we’
d ever be where we are had the captain not hired us to help drive his cattle to the railroad site at Sedalia.”
“I savvy that. Someone had to do it to show us all how. Why a longhorn cow prior to that wasn’t worth nothing.”
“Damn little and our dad must’ve saw something. We were branding mavericks hard—people almost laughed at his effort. Turns out they are all worth money.”
“Hey when we get back home I’ll contact you.”
“I’ve got your supper,” he said. “Nice meeting you.”
“I guess you could afford it.”
“We’ll manage to do that.”
Walking back to their hotel room, Jam mentioned how polite their new friend acted toward them.
“He sounds real levelheaded. I want to see that lake he talks about.”
“You’ve never heard about it before?”
“No. But it will be neat to go find it.”
She agreed.
That night he wondered about the lake some more. They were a rare thing in his country—he and Jan would need to go see it. Oh, well, still lots more cattle to load, but financially things looked good for him and Harp.
CHAPTER 21
Why did the trip home to Texas end up being twice as long?
Harp sent Jan and him home with the boys that were hurt along with Rex Neely, whose mother, they learned, was bad off and might even die before the cowboy could get back. Shade Clements had his once broken leg reset by a real doctor in Abilene and put in splints. He had crutches and was recovering. Ivy Martin had his arm in a sling from a horse wreck. A few healthy boys went with them to drive and hitch teams. The Chinese cook, Low Me, handled cooking and Jan helped him.
Besides the chuck wagon, they had another team and wagon that the recovering Boone Allen drove filled with hay and grain—so the animals they rode and drove had feed and they could go all day making thirty to forty miles. The move and graze made for a slow train back, and Long wanted to get back as fast as possible and see how things were going in their new empire.
Nothing in the mail that had caught up with him in Abilene indicated anything had gone too wrong, but he still felt a need to be back and be sure for himself that things were all right. Jan stayed in good spirits riding with him while they detoured around many northbound herds. Everyone knew him, stopped him to talk about markets.
He told them the price might be shaky, but when he left they were not that bad. That was all he knew. With the waves of cattle going north each day—he was damn glad they had sold early. Texas might have sent too many head this summer. He shrugged it off. They were going to use the ferry to cross the Red River with wagons, horses and all.
“You thought any more about a home place for us?” Jan asked, approaching the river.
“Oh, some. What have you thought about?”
“I don’t want to sound jealous but I’d like the Diamond Ranch house.”
“Why if wishes were like that they’d be fishes and the lake would be full.”
“You crazy guy. A gal can want can’t she?”
“Yes. But we have never been shown the sisters’ will and have no idea how that will work. At least Harp never said, except they told him they had it figured out. If you want a big fancy house, we can go to San Antonio and see an architect who can plan one you like.”
“I’d hate to be the greedy witch.”
“No one said a word about that, girl. I can afford to build you a house.”
“Fifty-fifty. Your money and mine.”
“I wasn’t going to spend that on us. If we ever have any children, I’d like that to give them a start.”
“With my luck at that, it will never take place.” She shook her head at him.
“We better get ready to settle with this ferryman.”
He dismounted and went in the ferry’s shack.
A bald-headed man wearing spectacles asked him how many he had.
“Two wagons and teams. A dozen horses and six riders.”
“Take three trips. Be seven fifty.”
Long frowned at him over his high figures. “Your prices have gone up since I was here last.”
“That is the charge to cross going south. North may be cheaper.”
“All right, but folks will buy a boat if you get much higher.” He paid the man as the ferry bumped the dock, and the man in the buggy under the shade nodded at Long going by him.
He didn’t know him and waved to Robbie Boyd driving the chuck wagon to get on the ferry. The wagon chained down, they loaded his and her horses and then the signal was given to start the team on the farside to begin pulling the thick rope. Water slapped the side. The day’s heat was building and the south wind swept his face. It would be good to be home. The river thudded the side of the ferry as they moved for the south bank.
They stood on the floor beside the chuck wagon with Robbie who was keeping an eye on his mules. The tobacco-spitting man in charge spent half his time spitting brown juices in the muddy stream. Long wondered if the ferry would work without him—probably would.
“How much longer will we be to get home?” she asked, squeezing his arm in the brilliant sun reflecting off the water.
“Oh, two weeks I imagine. What do you say, Robbie?”
“About that long, sir.”
“What are you going to do when you get home?”
“Go fish and hunt. I think those damn steer bawling in my ears is never going to quit.”
“Harp never offered you a job?” Long asked him, wondering why his brother had not encouraged this sharp young man to stay. He’d never mentioned anything he saw wrong with him and even picked him to head up the returning party and look out for Long and her both.
“I never asked. He said he wouldn’t pay me until I got back home. I figured I had that much time left on this job and you all won’t need me.”
“No. You misunderstood him. If he didn’t want you, he’d never sent you home as a bodyguard for the two of us.”
“I understood you had rules someone had to ride with you on the ranch because of some close calls you two had.”
Jan laughed. “Why I almost shot him myself when I found he had my horse. It got away from me and it was a dark night. He was going to find me first light. But I had the drop on him.”
They laughed.
“Long, I am glad you guys are who you are. You guys aren’t run off by anyone. And I came looking for work when I heard you paid both ways. Bunch of cheap bas—I mean people, ma’am. When they said they wouldn’t pay us to come back home I said I wasn’t going north.”
“We need good men to keep this ball, that we have started down home, rolling. Figure that you have a job at the H Bar H Ranch. So make the hunting and fishing trip short.”
“I may not even go.”
The three laughed.
The mules and chuck wagon went up on the hill, unloaded, and they started a fire to fix lunch for the others soon to arrive in camp.
After the meal, Harley Callis played his guitar and Phil Combs played the mouth harp. Both were a couple of the able-bodied men. Phil asked Long if he had a job when they got back. “I don’t see a reason in the world why any of you seven guys won’t have a job.”
They shouted and tossed their hats in the air.
The next day they reined up, because there was a woman, with a little girl, sitting at the side of the road crying.
“What’s wrong with her?” Jan asked.
Long dropped off his horse and handed Jan his rein. “I am going to ask.”
“Ma’am, you hurt?”
“That no-good Kenny Cooper dumped me and Missy off last night. We ain’t got a penny. And no way to go nowhere.”
“She your daughter?” Long was down on his right knee talking to the woman.
“No, she’s my sister’s girl, but she was bad sick and said she was dying and I needed to take her with me. I told her I was going to Fort Worth with Kenny, and she said well take her with you. But he got so mad about it that he made me ge
t off the wagon and drove away.”
“Were you married to him?”
“No.”
“What do they want?” little Missy asked her, sounding upset.
By then Jan was there and their procession had stopped. The wagon and teams secured beside the road, the men came on the run.
“Is she hurt?” Phil asked Jan.
She shook her head. “Not physical that I can tell.”
“My name is Long O’Malley.”
“Gladys Norton.”
“Where were you going in Fort Worth?”
“I don’t know. He does day work—”
“I understand. Let’s get you out of the sun. There are some trees over there.”
He and Jan helped her up, and with the little girl they walked them to the shade. Robbie had the others move the two wagons and set up a canvas shade for camping.
Jan found out the two had only one day-old biscuit to eat that day. She ordered oatmeal for their empty stomachs. One of the men brought drinking water and a dipper. Jan held the little girl and had fed her two pieces of hard candy. Long considered it bribery, but it and Jan’s kindness settled her down. The little girl was pleased at the attention.
He stayed back. The men fixed her some water, soap, and a towel to wash her face and hands. What sort of a man leaves a woman off on such a stretch of unused land of stunted oaks and cedars? He’d kick him in the butt if he crossed his path. And that poor little child abandoned way out here. Damn. Some people were absolutely worthless to have no more sense than to do that.
They cooked the rest of the leg of beef they bought three days earlier up at Denton. Kept cool under a wet canvas it was still good enough to eat, and they would eat the rest for breakfast along with the pinto beans that didn’t get done until sundown. They were eating under the coal oil lamps.
Gladys had recovered from her tears, and Long heard her tell one of the boys she was eighteen. He still knew little about her and her story except about taking her niece from a dying sister and herself no more than eighteen—if that was true—and already living with a man. She never said she was his wife.
Oh, well, what could she hurt? They knew her story—or did they?
In their bedroll, he asked his wife what she thought.
Dead Aim Page 16
