Rosa's Land: Western Justice - book 1

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Don’t tell Riordan he’s a bad horse. Just get him in the saddle and then get out of the way so you don’t get stomped.”

  “Well, it’s your say so, Rosa, but we may have a busted up marshal on our hands.”

  Riordan came out of the kitchen shack. He had helped wash the dishes. The regular cook had left a week earlier, so Riordan had been glad to plunge in to fix pancakes. That was simple enough. He found Ringo Jukes waiting for him.

  The husky rider said, “Need to give you some riding lessons.”

  “Why, I can ride.”

  “No, I don’t mean that old pokey horse you rode in on.”

  “Maggie is a good horse.”

  “Look, sooner or later we’re either going to be chasing after some outlaws or they’re going to be chasing us. In either case that horse is no good. You’ve got to have a fast mount.”

  “I haven’t had a lot of experience.”

  “Well, you’re fixin’ to get some. Come on. I’ll pick you out one to start on.”

  Riordan followed reluctantly, and when they got to the corral he saw that all the hands had gathered, including Ned, who was leaning against the corral post rolling a cigarette. “Want to ride a little bit, Riordan?”

  “Sure he does,” Ringo said. “Here. Let me saddle this horse up for you.”

  Riordan had a quick mind. He saw that the men were all grinning, and when Ringo led a beautiful black stallion out of the stable, he was sure that he was in for a thumping. I’ve got to do it. No other way out. I hope he doesn’t kill me.

  “That horse is named Chief. He’s plenty fast,” Ned said. “Easy to saddle. He stands just nice and still. You see?”

  Indeed, Chief did stand still while Ringo put on a blanket and saddle. He then put the bridle on. Ringo turned and said, “Okay.”

  Riordan approached slowly. The horse was very large and muscular. He turned and looked at Ringo, and there seemed to be a gleam in his dark eyes. “This horse is pretty hard to ride, I take it?”

  “Oh, he’s fine. A good horse is always a little harder to ride than your plow horses. They’re lively,” Ringo said. “But you’ll need a lively mount around here, Riordan. Now you just go ahead. Just ride him around the corral here a few times until you get used to him.”

  Riordan clenched his jaw as he readied for this newest challenge.

  Rosa had positioned herself at one end of the corral. She had a clear view of Riordan and saw the apprehension in his eyes. She heard the men talking about him.

  One of the new hands, Charlie Jones, said quietly, “Ned, that’s a pretty bad horse. He plowed me up.”

  “Yeah. He plowed me up, too. He’s a good ‘un.”

  “I wouldn’t call him a good ‘un,” Charlie said. “This poor fellow looks like a tenderfoot.”

  “Well, you know how Ringo is. Always playing a joke.”

  A sudden impulse came, and Rosa felt that she should try to stop what was about to happen, for it could be dangerous. Still she said nothing. He shouldn’t have come here if he wasn’t ready to work.

  She watched as Riordan put one foot in the stirrup then swung his leg over the horse. He grabbed the reins from Ringo, and as soon as he did, Chief exploded with raw strength. Humping his back, he went straight up in the air and came down stiff legged. She saw Riordan jolting up and down in the saddle. He made a wild grab for the horn and missed. He was thrown sideways as Chief twisted and turned like a corkscrew. Three more jumps from Chief and Riordan lost all control. He sailed up in the air, his arms flailing, and turned a complete somersault. He landed flat on his back with a distinct whump.

  Grandfather, who had come to stand beside her, said, “That was a bad fall.”

  “Sure was,” Father agreed. “I hope he ain’t bad hurt.”

  Ringo bent over the fallen man and said, “You okay, partner?”

  Riordan did not answer, as he was trying to suck air back into his lungs.

  “Well, that was a pretty bad fall. No fun having the air knocked out of you. You’ll be okay. Here. Let me help you up.”

  Rosa watched as Ringo pulled the smaller man to his feet.

  “Well,” Ringo said, “maybe we’d better give you a gentler horse.”

  “No, that’s the one I want,” Riordan said.

  “Oh, come on now, Riordan. This was just kind of a trick. You don’t want that horse. He’s a mean one. You could get hurt.”

  “That’s the one I want.”

  Rosa heard a stubbornness in Riordan’s voice and saw that his mouth was drawn into a tight line.

  “Catch him up for me, will you, Ringo?” Riordan asked.

  “What in the world is he doing?” her grandfather demanded.

  “It looks like he’s determined to ride that horse,” Father said.

  “Why, he can’t ride Chief. None of the men can. You’d better stop it, granddaughter.”

  “Let him ride.”

  “He’s liable to get hurt.”

  “None of my business,” Rosa said. “You break it up.”

  “That fellow is more stubborn than he looks.” Father nodded.

  Rosa saw that Riordan was stepping back into the saddle, and she watched with shock as twice more he was thrown, each time getting up more slowly.

  Finally Grandfather shook his head. “This ain’t right, Rosa.” He entered the corral and came to where Riordan was getting up, his face pale. “That’s enough of this horse, Riordan.”

  “I’d like to try again.”

  “You can try later.” He turned to face Ringo and said nothing, but Ringo’s face grew red. “That’s all the entertainment today. Ain’t there no work for you fellows to do?” he said.

  All the hands scattered like quail then, and her grandfather said, “You take it easy for a while. That’s too much horse for you right now.” He went back, stood in front of Rosa, and bit the words off. “A woman should have some gentleness in her, granddaughter, along with the toughness. I’m ashamed of you.”

  Rosa flushed, turned, and left, feeling the hard truth of the statement.

  Riordan could scarcely move the rest of the day. That night he was so sore he could barely walk.

  Ned saw him limping and said, “You know, Riordan, that big tank out there has been in the sun all day, and the water’s real hot. Why don’t you climb into it? I’ve always heard that heat was good for taking the misery out of sore muscles.”

  Riordan could barely turn his head to look at the tank, but he remembered how more than once he’d gotten into hot tubs to ease his aches. “You know, you may be right about that, Ned. Think I’ll just go soak for a time.”

  “Sure, that’ll set you up fine!” Ned shook his head, adding, “I didn’t know Ringo had such a mean streak. He knows ain’t many hands able to stay on Chief.”

  “I don’t think it was his idea.”

  “Why, he’s the one who put you up on that horse.”

  But Riordan had caught glimpses of Rosa Ramirez watching him take his fall and seeming to enjoy it. It had not surprised him, for he knew that the young woman despised him. “Oh, just guessing, Ned.”

  Limping out to the large tank, Riordan glanced toward the house but saw that the barn cut off anyone who might be coming from there. Slowly, with several grunts, he stripped off his filthy clothes and boots then climbed up the short ladder into the tank. He eased himself down into the water, which was very hot. Slowly he submerged himself and loosed a sigh of pleasure as his weary muscles seemed to welcome the hot bath. He kept his head above water and let the heat draw some of the aches out of his frame. For a long time he floated, thinking of what had happened. Mostly he thought of the pleasure he had seen in the eyes of Rosa when he had hit the ground with terrible force. She really enjoyed seeing me get hurt. The thought disturbed him greatly, for he was accustomed to women who were more gentle.

  Finally he reluctantly climbed out of the tank and had put on the lower part of dirty underwear, when a voice caught him unawares.

  “Do
n’t you know our animals have to drink water from that tank?”

  Turning quickly, Riordan saw that Rosa had appeared and was staring at him. He had always been a modest young man and had an impulse to climb back into the tank. A thin streak of anger touched him then, and he said, “Sorry, Miss Ramirez.” He was aware that she was staring at him and saw something in her look that disturbed him. “If you’ll leave, I’ll put some clothes on.”

  Rosa laughed harshly. She had come upon him by pure accident, and her first glance of the half-naked body of Riordan had given her a shock. Now she was embarrassed and said, “Get some clothes on. We’ve got enough scarecrows around here.” Abruptly she whirled and disappeared, leaving Riordan to stare after her.

  Slowly he put on the dirty, sweat-stained clothes and returned to the bunkhouse. He found the hands sitting at a rickety table playing poker.

  Ringo moved his shoulders uncertainly. He cleared his throat then said, “No hard feelings about Chief, I hope.”

  “Not at all.”

  Ringo got up and walked over to an empty bunk then gestured at a chest at the foot. “This was George Perkin’s place, but he joined up with some wild riders. You might as well have his stuff. He won’t be coming back for it. He was a real sharp dresser.”

  Riordan smiled. “Thanks, Ringo. I appreciate it.”

  The tension that had been in the room faded, and the card game went on as Riordan put on clean underwear and lay down with a sigh of relief. His last thought was, That woman sure did enjoy seeing me get thrown. Wonder what she will think of next to humiliate me? Whatever it is I won’t let her get to me!

  CHAPTER 13

  During the days that followed her encounter with Riordan at the water tank, Rosa became more and more disgusted with him. She thought he was utterly worthless, but one thing that happened surprised her:

  Her grandfather had commanded Ned to give Riordan a better horse. “Give him Big Red,” he had said. “He’s a fast horse. Never bucked in his life. See that the young fellow learns how to ride.”

  Despite herself, Rosa was interested in the experiment. She watched every day as Riordan saddled the big red gelding, who stood absolutely still as a statue for the process. Unlike other horses, he would open his mouth and take the bit without trying to bite anybody. She watched as Riordan became more and more easy in mounting and began taking Red out for rides during which he would go faster and faster.

  One Thursday afternoon, Rosa went outside the house, noting that it was a lazy day and most of the work was done. She saw Ned whittling in the shade of the big walnut tree and walked over. “Where’s the big dishwasher?”

  “Why, he went for a ride.”

  “Did he get the stable clean?”

  “Oh, Miss Rosa, you couldn’t expect him to do that. None of these marshals ever do anything like work on these ranches. We got a new man, a young man from Mexico to take care of that.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “I seen him about an hour ago riding out east. Didn’t say where he was going. I do know he’s been studying a map of the Territory and riding over it as much as he can. Looks like he wants to know the country.”

  “He’s just riding around to get out of work. He’s a bum. That’s all he is.”

  Her nerves were on edge as she mounted her horse and rode out. She rode for twenty minutes and got to the river. Turning the mare’s head, she followed a small branch of it until she saw Riordan seated under a tree. He seemed to be writing something on a tablet.

  She stepped off of her horse, tied her to a sapling, and advanced until she was within a few feet of the unsuspecting man. “What are you doing?”

  Riordan was startled. He jumped up, holding the pad in one hand and a pencil in the other.

  “Are you writing letters?”

  “I just like to get away once in a while.”

  “Who are you writing to?” Rosa demanded.

  “Nobody.”

  “That sounds unlikely.” She went forward and snatched the tablet saying, “Are you writing to your sweetheart?”

  She looked down at the open page and received a shock. It was not a letter but a pencil sketch of the terrain that lay to the south. There was the small stream, correct in every detail, the plains, and in a bunch of high grass, a six-point buck had lifted his head, his eyes staring, looking as real as life. Far off was the outline of the mountains. “You’re drawing pictures!”

  Riordan looked embarrassed. “Just a hobby.”

  Rosa started to hand the tablet to him, but the wind caught the pages and folded them back. She looked down and saw a sketch of herself wearing her riding outfit. Her hat was pushed back on her head, and she was frowning as if she were angry. “What do you mean drawing pictures of me?”

  Riordan shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I just like to draw all sorts of things.”

  Rosa turned the pages and saw sketches of the ranch, of her mother standing at the cookstove, of Ringo riding a bucking bronc, her father and grandfather playing checkers. “I didn’t want an artist,” she snapped. “I wanted a tough man to run down some killers. I’m sick of you, you so-called marshal. Take your pictures and go back to Judge Parker.”

  She turned and walked back, aware that he was following her, trying to apologize. “I’m sorry, Miss Ramirez. I can promise you I won’t do any more.”

  Rosa had reached her horse when suddenly he grabbed her from behind and swung her around. She fought loose and struck at him with a quirt she always carried, but he hardly reacted. She was shocked when he pulled his gun in one smooth motion and fired it. Twirling she saw an enormous headless rattlesnake thrashing in the weeds.

  If there was one thing Rosa Ramirez was frightened of, it was snakes, and this one was a monster. Frozen with fear, even though the danger was passed, she watched until the snake finally grew still. She suddenly realized that she had struck a man who was trying to save her life. She looked at the big snake, which she knew had venom enough to kill her. “I’m sorry—”

  She broke off, for Riordan had sat down and taken his right boot off. He pulled the sock down, and she saw the twin punctures. She watched, unable to speak, as he took out a pocketknife and cut a deep etch in both wounds. The blood began to flow freely. He looked up and remarked, “I guess he got me.”

  Rosa had always been careful of snakes, and she had never seen one any bigger than this. Suddenly she cried, “Get on your horse. We’ve got to get you to the doctor.”

  “He’s at Fort Smith. I’ll be dead by that time.”

  Quickly Rosa ran over and pulled him to his feet and led him to his horse. “Get on your horse!”

  He shrugged, and she ran to her own horse and called out, “We’ve got to hurry!”

  “There’s no hurry, Miss Ramirez. I don’t think there’s any cure for snakebites.”

  Rosa rushed as quickly as she could back to the ranch. Trying to keep Riordan awake and seated on his horse impeded their progress somewhat. When they arrived at the house, she saw Ned and motioned for him to come.

  Ned responded to Rosa’s summons by calling out, “Ringo, something’s wrong.”

  The two advanced, and as they did, they saw that Riordan’s face was drained and pale, that his eyes were starting to turn upward. “He’s been snake bit. Carry him into the house.”

  There was no need to pull him off, for Riordan fell right into Ned’s husky arms. He hurried to the steps and called out, “Riordan’s been snake bit! We need to put him in bed.”

  “Put him in the bed in the front bedroom,” Grandfather said. He looked down. “Are you all right, Riordan?”

  “I don’t—feel so good.”

  They took him in and cleaned the blood off of his leg as he lay in the bed, but Ned said, “From the looks of those fang marks, it was a big ‘un.”

  “The biggest I’ve ever seen.”

  Father had come in. “What gave him that cut on the cheek? That wasn’t a snake.”

  Memory came back, and Rosa fl
ushed, but she said nothing. She sat down beside Riordan. People came and went, and she watched his face as it began to twist in a grimace of pain. He twitched, and his arms and legs were shaking. She reached out and held him down. Finally she was aware that only her grandfather was there.

  “I’m afraid he’s going to die,” Rosa said.

  “Well, in the case of snakebites, I guess it’s up to God. I’ve seen men get bitten and die, and I’ve seen some of them get well.”

  The only sound in the room was Riordan’s heavy and uneven gasping breaths.

  She suddenly felt tears running down her cheeks. “It’s my fault. I was going to get on my horse, and he grabbed me from behind. I—I thought he was trying to grab me, and I hit him with my quirt.” She looked up, her face twisted with grief. “He pulled his gun and shot the snake. He was trying to save my life, and I did that to him.”

  “Well,” her grandfather said, “some things we can make up for and some things we can’t. If he don’t die, you can tell him you’re sorry.”

  The doctor came, but when he looked at the leg that was terribly swollen, took Riordan’s pulse, and felt the feverish brow, he said, “He looks bad, but I think he’s over the hump. How long since he was bitten?”

  “At least five hours, doctor.”

  “Well, he’d be dead by now if that were going to happen. He just needs care.”

  “Tell me what to do, doctor,” Rosa whispered. “I’ll take care of him.”

  When Riordan opened his eyes, he could see a ceiling and was aware that he was in a strange room. His leg was agonizing to him, and he groaned. He then turned his head and saw that Rosa Ramirez was sitting there beside him. She had been asleep, but he had awakened her when he groaned.

  “You’re awake,” she said. She leaned over him and said, “You’re going to be all right, Riordan.”

  Riordan was feeling miserable, but he realized that it was the first time she had ever used his name. “Can I have some water?”