by Caryl McAdoo
While his mother talked and picked at her food, a man came up holding a piece of paper. “You the fella looking to buy land grant certificates?”
“What do you have?”
“A first class headright, good for one league and a labor.”
“Could I see it?”
“Sure thing.” The man handed over the paper.
Bay-lor studied it for a while, threw it on the table, then stood. “What’s your name?”
“Jones, you want to buy it?”
“No, sir. It’s a fake.”
The man threw back his coat, revealing a pistol tucked into this belt. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Ain’t no fake. Gimme it, we’ll be quits.”
“No, I can’t do that.”
The man reached for the paper. Charley slapped his hand. “Bay-lor say no.”
The man drew back as if going to backhand Charley.
But Bay-lor grabbed his arm. “I wouldn’t.”
The man jerked away and reached for his pistol. Before he could clear his belt, the ranger jammed his fist into the man’s face. The guy staggered then fell backwards.
Bay-lor stepped on the stranger’s gun hand then retrieved the man’s pistol and knife.
Before long, a ranger who had been on the trail with them came and pulled the man away. Charley eased next to Bay-lor and waited until he noticed him. “I like catching bad men.”
Chapter
Seven
Later that night, Levi found Wallace in the same saloon sipping rot gut and holding court to a small mixed group. Mid-sentence, he stopped and pointed at Levi. “Here’s the man himself. Grab a chair, Captain, and help me tell these folks about Plum Creek.”
Levi shook his head. “It’s late. You coming?”
“Where are we going?”
“Clarksville.”
Wallace stood, staggered a step, and then found his feet. “Why didn’t you shoot that thief?”
“What thief?” Levi grabbed his friend’s arm and headed him toward the door.
“The guy with the fake headright.”
He pushed open the saloon’s double swinging doors. “Oh him. Smitty talks too much.”
Wallace wiped his mouth. “So, why didn’t you shoot the cheat?”
Levi didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure why he had let the man live. Selling fake land certificates wasn’t a capital offense, but in his book, trying to pull his pistol sure was.
“So? You going to tell me? The truth.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m getting soft in my old age.”
Wallace stopped, pulled back, and faced him. “I can tell you why. You’re smitten by Miss Sassy.”
“Get off that, Rusk. She’s married.” Levi grabbed his friend’s arm and pushed him on down the street.
Wallace glanced around then leaned in close. “I’ve been thinking. I could take care of that little problem for you.”
Levi didn’t want to even think about Sassy not being married. She was, and that was that. He’d get her home to her husband; have a nice visit with his family, then get himself back to whatever needed to be done.
Sassy scooted Charley to his side of the bed then rolled out. She stepped to the window and stared out into the moonlight-bathed street below; a few men still moseyed around.
She looked both ways, but couldn’t make out anyone. She eased to the bed and lay back down. She’d never known a man who could handle things, no matter what came his way. It pleased her that Levi hadn’t killed that man.
Totally opposite, Charley probably wanted him to. She made herself close her eyes. Tomorrow, Levi was taking her home.
But instead of the lush green rolling hills and tall pines and oaks of the Red River Valley, images of her son’s Bay-lor flooded her soul. She tried to force him out of her mind’s eye and replace him with images of her husband, but the ranger would not be denied.
Sometime during the night’s mental war, sleep overtook her. She woke the next morning with an ache in her heart. She had thought she loved Charles; he was her husband. But would she ever feel safe again without Levi around?
She wrestled with the question through breakfast, and her little shopping spree at the haberdashery. She chose a green dress and all the necessary under garments. Charley even got a new shirt and pair of breeches. He didn’t like either.
The sales lady adjusted the standing mirror. “You look grand, Mis’ess Nightengale.”
Sassy studied her reflection, her skin. She touched her face. Where had the young girl gone? The one who used to stare back at her from her mother’s looking glass. “Thank you.”
“Want me to burn the Comanche clothes, ma’am?”
Sassy started to agree, then shook her head. “No. I’ll need something to wear when I wash.”
Charley tugged on his new shirt. “Burn this.”
She scooped him up and kissed his neck. “Be good now. We’re not burning anything.”
He scrunched his shoulder and wiggled. “Where Bay-lor?”
She tightened her grip; disappointed he didn’t want her to tickle him. “Why do you ask?”
“Me and him catch bad men.”
“Oh, so you’re his new partner now, are you? What about Mister Rusk?”
The boy smiled. “Him come, too.”
Levi had woken up late that morning, only ten or so cock crows before first light. He was getting old, sleeping that late. Normally, he beat even the roosters up.
While he busied himself getting ready to head north, Wallace’s offer to take care of Nightengale sent him on a path he knew full well he shouldn’t be going down. He kept trying to shake the idea of Sassy being a free woman while he got himself ready then headed on out to the livery.
With two hundred pounds of grain on board and the wagon’s water barrel filled, he hitched the mules then drove to the ranger station and retrieved his saddle. Thankfully the major wasn’t there.
He didn’t want the man to try and enlist any sort of promise as to when he’d return. No telling how long it might take to get to the Red and back. Late October wasn’t the best time to start a trek across the Republic.
A beautiful time, yes. Especially traveling up through the hill country to the eastern piney woods. And the temperature should be agreeable, more warm and cool than hot and cold. Fall days invigorated him, he loved the season.
And going home always revitalized him. No place else on earth he’d rather be than the Red River Valley.
Next he drove to the mercantile, grabbed a double bit axe, a set of tools, fifty pounds of beans, and forty pounds of fat back and carried them to the counter. Then he picked out a big stack of jerked beef, fifty pounds of wheat flour, a sack of hard tack and ten jars of peaches.
At each turn he found more things he figured he needed or would be nice to take home to his Aunt Sue. Maybe he was going to have to do some bounty hunting on the way if he kept on spending money like water.
He reminded himself a little of Uncle Henry back at the Titus Trading post in ’32, and the image brought a smile.
Maybe Wallace’s thinking was pretty straight, and the time to settle down had snuck up on him. Might be a good idea to build a new house, plant a big garden and get a cash crop in. Wouldn’t be hard with Sassy’s help.
He shook his head. “Don’t be a fool, Baylor. She’s married.” He looked around, but no one in the store had heard him.
What about Grace? He couldn’t see her being too keen on farming. Maybe he ought to pick up some extra shot and powder for her dad to resell, give him a good reason to go by and look her up.
But he rejected the notion. Didn’t really want to see her, and besides, she was probably married by now. The pretty ones usually didn’t last long.
He finally decided he’d bought enough. If something else popped up he didn’t have covered, there were a few trading posts between Austin and Clarksville. “So, what do I owe?”
The owner bent over the counter scribbling on a little pad with a stubby pen
cil. He looked up. “Coin, script, or credit?”
Levi studied the man. Did he know this guy? “Do I have an account here?”
“Well, not exactly Captain Baylor, but I’d be honored to extend you credit.”
Levi chuckled. “News travels fast, but that promotion’s only been proposed.”
“Yes, sir, but I heard that’s just a formality.”
Mercy, did everyone know everyone else’s business in this town? “So, what’s the best deal?”
“Gold, for sure, but if Houston gets his way, and we join the union, then script will be good as gold.”
“How about half coin, half script, less one dollar credit.”
The man stuck out his hand. “I’d be honored, Captain.”
As he stacked the coins, pitter-pat footfalls turned him. Charley burst through the open door. “I found you, Bay-lor.”
Levi held out his arms, and the boy jumped up into them. He caught him midair then held him out at arm’s length giving him the once over. “Where’d you get the new threads?”
He threw a look over his shoulder. “She made me.”
Levi followed the boy’s gaze. Sassy walked toward him in a dark green dress. He swallowed hard. Wow, he just thought she looked good in her deerskins with her hair double braided.
That high collar and full skirt gathered around her tiny waist, wow. She was beyond good looking. He stepped toward her, knew he was staring and knew he shouldn’t, but couldn’t make himself look away. “My, oh my; green is definitely your color.”
“Why, do say. Thank you ever so much, Levi.” It pleased her the way he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Even better she loved the feeling of security that filled her heart every time she was in his presence. She looked past him to the stack of coins and trade goods on the counter. “Looks like we’ve both been shopping this morning.”
He blinked twice then lowered his gaze. “Yes, I’ve been trying to get ready for our trip. Anything you need?”
She stepped closer, took Charley, then studied his selections. “Seems like you thought of everything.”
“What about you?”Levi counted the boy’s ribs with a finger. “Need anything special?”
Charley wiggled down, but she kept hold of his hand. “No, you’ve done plenty enough. There’s no way I can ever repay you already.”
He took her other hand, tugged ever so gently then lowered his head to her ear level. “You’re like family, Rosaleen. Now if there’s anything – growing up with Aunt Sue and Bitty Beck, I know women need lady things – tell me what, or the clerk, and I’ll pay for it.”
Her breath caught then came hard. Her eyes misted. She’d never liked her given name until it slipped from Levi’s lips. Somehow it sounded perfect coming from him . “I… Uh, I’d love some material. This dress is fine, but besides my deerskin, it’s all I’ve got.”
“Done; pick out whatever you like. And get thread, needles, whatever.” He held his hand up. “Auntie never got around to teaching me much about sewing.”
She blinked away her mist then smiled at his boyishness. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
He looked down at Charley. “Anything else? Does my little friend here need anything?”
“Oh Levi, stop asking, I don’t want you to spend all your money.”
“Don’t worry about that.” He knelt and tousled the boy’s hair. “What about it, partner? Anything you need?”
His eyes sparkled. “A long gun, powder and shot.”
Levi scooped him up then stood and faced her. “What about a pistol?”
That and a half dozen other things she’d not mention, but since he offered. “I’d certainly take the loan of one if you’ve got an extra.”
He turned to the shopkeeper. “You got any small guns?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Show Mis’ess Nightengale what you’ve got, and help her gather anything else she might want.” He pointed to the coins and paper money. “Take care of that for me until I return.”
He handed Charley over. Of course the boy didn’t want to go, but did. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Wallace should have showed by now. I’m serious, Rose, get anything you want.”
She had no intention of imposing any more on his generosity. He strolled out and stopped just outside, looked both ways, then headed up the street.
Oh, how she wanted to run after him, go where he went and do what he did. Instead, she made herself stay and focus on the pistols the shopkeeper pulled from behind his counter.
“Did I hear Captain Baylor call you family, ma’am?”
Sassy looked at the man. “That is what he said. Yes, sir, but I was only a good friend of his sister’s. That was a long time ago—before I was stolen.”
“That’s right. You came in yesterday, part of Bold Eagle’s harem, right?”
She glared at the man. How dare him. She wanted to grab a gun and shoot him in the heart right then and there, but that’d get her thrown in the calaboose. Maybe his wrong impression was at least partially right. The war chief had three wives besides her. “The other ladies were from a band of yaps from across the Rio Bravo.”
“Right, now I remember. Heard Captain Baylor killed two of them; one that held a knife at the throat of that youngest gal.” He slapped the counter. “Did you hear? That ‘un stole a horse in the middle of the night and lit out. Me and the boys figure she liked Injun life best.”
She started to tell the man his information and suspicions were wrong, that the girl was only fifteen and pregnant, and how an old busybody told the poor little thing that no one wanted her or her half-breed baby.
It wouldn’t be anything but a waste of her breath though. This guy gossiped way worse than any woman she’d ever known. The last thing she needed to do was give him more news to noise about. “Maybe some truth there.”
The man nodded and held out a piece of hard candy. “Here, son, this is on me.”
Charley took it. “Me and Captain Bay-lor are partners.”
Levi didn’t really need to find Wallace. He knew exactly where he was, but he had to get away from Rose for a while, before he made a complete fool of himself.
He strolled to the only boardinghouse in town that took script, took the stairs up two at a time, and stopped by his room. After a quick look to see if he’d forgotten anything, he stepped across the hall and went to banging on that door. “Wake up, Wallace.”
After fifteen slaps on the door with his cupped hand, it opened. A bleary eyed, hung-over Wallace peered out. “Why are you making such a ruckus? Got to be lots of nice folks still trying to sleep. Some of ‘em may even be sick.” He rubbed his forehead.
Levi pushed the door open. “Best get to moving. Buffalo Hump and two thousand of his best braves are heading toward town as we speak.”
Wallace poured some water in the bowl on his dresser and splashed his face. “You’re such a liar. That’s the same yarn as the last time we’s in town.”
“Fine. Go back to bed. If you don’t want to go to Clarksville, that’s your business. Forget Rebecca. She would never be one to stomach a lay-about anyway.”
His friend wobbled to the only chair in the room, eased into it, then looked at Levi with pleading, bloodshot eyes. “Can I have an hour?”
Levi turned. “The south livery; a half hour. Don’t be late.”
Chapter
Eight
Sassy hefted a small revolver. It felt nice in her hand. She looked at the shopkeeper. “What’s this one?”
He laughed. “They call it a Baby Paterson Colt; shoots five percussion shots. Kind of small, though. Only twenty-eight caliber.”
She must have looked puzzled because she had no idea what his description meant. “Percussion?”
“Yes, ma’am. Mister Colt’s latest patent. It means that you don’t have to muzzle load your powder and shot; it’s a ball and cap instead. The five percussion means you can shoot five times without reloading.”
“Wow, I haven’t heard –” She
turned the pistol in her hand with a lot more respect for the little thing. “How much?”
“I’d need five dollars on that one.”
She set it down like it suddenly burned her skin. Five dollars? She’d never seen that much money in her whole life. “Which of these would be the cheapest?” She waved her hand over the small collections of pistols.
He picked up an older looking flintlock. “I could let this go for four bits.”
“Fine. Put it with the rest of the things then. Where are your dry goods?”
She found a nice bolt of cloth and a used sewing kit with everything she’d need and sat both on the counter with the other items Levi gathered earlier. Rangering must pay much better than she ever thought, or maybe he just got to stock the government wagon.
She resisted the urge to count the stacks of coins and script that still lay on the counter. Twice she had to make Charley leave it alone.
“Will there be anything else, ma’am?”
“Maybe.” She pointed toward a high shelf behind his counter. “That Dutch oven and a frying pan. Oh, and a couple of wooden buckets. Let’s go ahead and gather those up, but put them aside. I don’t see any here, but he might have some already.”
“Have what already?”
She spun around; Levi stood in the door grinning. “Buckets and cooking skillets?”
Charley wiggled free and ran to him.
He scooped the boy up. “We definitely need a couple of skillets and a Dutch oven, but I have buckets.” The shopkeeper immediately went to gathering the pans and adding them to the growing pile that covered his counter.
Charley patted Levi’s shoulder. “Bay-lor, buy me the Baby.”
“What baby?”
The boy pointed to the small Colt pistol that still lay on the counter. “That one. Me and Mama like it.”
Levi stepped closer. “You’ve got a Baby Paterson? What caliber is it?”
“Twenty-eight, sir.”
“Do you have a thirty-six caliber, too?”
“Yes, sir, sure do.” He reached under the counter and pulled out a monster revolver in its holster. The barrel stuck an inch or two out the end of the leather.
