by Lou Bradshaw
Touching the brim of my hat for Battles sake, I turned Smoke and jogged up the lane and out of range. The would-be gun fighter must have run and got a weapon because the last thing I heard was Battles yelling, “Collins, put that down… fool!” At least I knew that fella’s name and where he belonged. I could only assume the other two, who had been with him, were attached to Battles ranch also.
As I made my way back toward home, I was doing some thinking about Battles. He was a nice enough man with good manners and a good overall appearance, but like Sheriff Nelson’s opinion, something wasn’t right. One advantage of riding along on a good horse, was the horse was smart enough to take you in the direction he was pointed. So I pointed Smoke to the east and did some thinking.
What was it about Battles that disturbed me? For one thing, he was dressed for a party or a formal dinner. He sat in a rocking chair on his porch smoking a pipe, wearing a broad brimmed planter’s hat, a white dress up coat, a ruffled shirt and a tie. His knee high riding boots were polished to a high shine… Well, I could allow for a man who thought he was sitting in the garden of an antebellum plantation. There’s no accounting to a man’s daydreams.
What was it about the ranch that disturbed me more than the man? It wasn’t a working ranch. There were no cattle and few horses. The front of the house had been painted, but the rest hadn’t. The paint on the front was only a cover up for badly split and weathered boards. The barn and out buildings looked in need of repair. In other words, the place was rundown.
Why would a non-working ranch need three hands? I had to assume the other two were there… they were quick to grab iron when their card playing companion was in trouble. That’s not something a random stranger would likely do. There wasn’t enough livestock on the ranch to keep one man busy, let alone three men, and there weren’t any repairs being done.
Perhaps the ranch was a rich man’s hobby… a place where he could be lord of the castle and let his fantasies play out. Stranger things have happened. Well, if he wanted to be a dreamer and live in a world that was as fake as a play actor on a stage, it was none of my affair…. Play actor? That’s what he reminded me of. The voice, the clothes, the language, and the way he carried on all made me think of an actor. I’d bet a ten dollar gold piece on Mr. Glenn Battles having spent plenty of time in front of the foot lights.
I’d give the sheriff credit for his intuition. I doubt if he had pegged him as an actor, but he had him down as a phony, and that was good enough for me. The whole ranch was just a sham. Was it a stage prop for some crooked purpose, or was it just a man living in a dream world.
Collins and the other two struck me as men who wouldn’t shy away from crossing the line of the law, but Battles didn’t seem to be the outlaw type. But then again, he was or could well be an actor. His eccentric behavior could be just a part he was playing. I didn’t figure myself an expert on such things, so I’d have to give it some thought.
First thing I did when I got back to the ranch was to go find Clarence McCoy. I knew what Gracy had planned for them this day, and I had a good idea where he would be. So I had no problem running him down.
I found McCoy and Rafe Baker back in a deep narrow canyon rousting cattle out of the brush. They were moving them out into the open and bunching them. He was happy for the break. The work they were doing was hot, dusty, and mean. I asked him if those men he had been playing cards with were friends or strangers to each other.
“Oh, they were compadres all right. I almost didn’t sit down with them. Since I didn’t know them, I didn’t exactly trust them… them bein’ pals and all. Ya never know what they might cook up to git a stranger’s poke. But since my poke only had ‘bout three dollars in it, I figgered what the hell? As it worked out, I got into a couple of their pockets.”
“Did they give you any idea where they were from?”
“Yeah… they talked a lot about Texas… the Panhandle in particular.”
“Did they say where they were working?”
“No… I didn’t ask…. When I was just a pup… not more than six or seven, I asked a feller my pa knew where he worked and he told me, ‘That’s none of your business’, so I reckoned that was a question I shouldn’t ask, and I ain’t never done it since.”
“But,” he went on, “they was pretty well heeled. They had more money in them pockets than I’m gonna make in a couple of months, working for you… no offence.”
“None taken… Anything else you can remember that might be worth makin’ a note of?”
“Only thing is that one you busted up… Roy was what they called him. He fancied himself a gunfighter, but I reckon he wasn’t… Blue that took a lot of nerve walkin’ in on him like that. How’d you know he wouldn’t shoot you?”
“I didn’t, but when you don’t play by his rules for what he’d planned, he wouldn’t be able to adjust his plans on the fly. Nobody wants to start pulling a six-gun at that distance because both men are likely to get shot up…. Before I hit him, he’d forgot all about his gun and was using both hands to keep me off him… I can’t take credit for it, I’d seen it done before.”
“Well, looks like you been in a pinch or two in your time, Boss. I figured you was just a easy goin’ cowman.”
Rafe Baker’s head swung around to look at Clarence and said, “McCoy, you need to pay more attention to what’s goin’ on around you… Dang it, man, this here ….”
Interrupted Rafe with a wave of my hand I said, “Whatta ya say I give you boys a hand and we go to diggin’ them beeves outa these canyons?”
We got in just ahead of sundown. We were hot tired and smelly, but we’d done a fair piece of work, and we were plenty hungry. Maria didn’t disappoint us. The next day, I worked with Gracy and Pepé along the east wall of the valley. The canyons below that big white mountain were wider and deeper than those along the south rim, but there were crannies where a steer could make his stand and you’d have to drag him out. Some of them had been in there since Moses parted the sea, and they were plum wild. We found some that had never been branded… I was embarrassed.
I had planned on switching back and forth between the two sets of brush poppers, but Delgado had his hands full with motherhood. He was generally an able midwife, but the foals were coming so fast, I had to abandon the canyons and help out. He’d moved the mares up to a small pasture near the barn and brought those who were closer to their time into the stable.
That’s where we were, when Matt Dunlop came through the big doors and up the runway to the stall. We had a particularly nervous first time mother at the edge of panic. I was at her head and Delgado was at the business end. I was trying to keep her calm, and I had no idea what he was doing on his end. Matt leaned over and started to say something, but he held his tongue and watched.
When it was over, and the fine looking rust colored foal was trying to get to his feet Matt said, “Looks like you got you a fine horse colt there, Ben. I musta seen that happen a hunnerd times, but it still amazes me.”
The sound of Matt’s voice brought me back to the moment. “Howdy, Matt. What brings you over to this side of the plateau?”
“I got me a little dilemma, Ben. I’m gonna have to cut one of my hands, and I heard you were lookin’ for riders.”
“Everything alright, Matt?” He assured me that things were fine, but he couldn’t justify the number of men he was carrying on the payroll.
“I should have done it a year ago, but… well you know how it is.”
“Getting’ soft in your old age, Matt? Who you gonna have to let go?” Matt was only about thirty five or there about.
“Johnny Tolliver. He’s a good boy, but he’s the newest and I just don’t have a place for him.”
“Sure, I know Johnny… He helped me take a herd through three or four years ago…. He’ll do to hold up his end. You can send him over, I can use him.”
Johnny Tolliver was a tough youngster, who did what he was told and never shied from trouble. We’d had swollen creeks an
d a Comanche raid on that drive, and he never flinched. Johnny was quiet and serious. He’d never be one to have friends strewn across the country, but the friends he had would be friends for life. I don’t reckon I would have handled things the same way as Matt. I’d always thought that I’d stick with the most dependable man… the best worker… the most loyal to the brand.
All I needed was one more good man to make Patty Anne happy and make me a hero in her eyes. To tell the truth, the way the crew was working at the time, we could have used a few more. But that would all change when the cattle were bunched into two herds. Then it would be a matter of maintenance.
Johnny showed up the next morning in time for breakfast and did a full day’s work before he took time to put his gear away and pick out a bunk. But after one of Maria’s fine meals and a slab of Patty Anne’s apple pie, he walked outside with the biggest smile I ever saw on a face.
There were bunks for twelve men, but Delgado had fixed a place in the stable, and Gracy had moved into the foreman’s quarters, so the bunkhouse was still half empty. Things were starting to fall into place. Gracy was doing a fine job of getting the two herds formed. I stayed out of his way and let him handle the day to day business. When I worked with the crew, he was the boss and I took his directions, although we all knew what our jobs were and he had little to direct… I was pleased.
Chapter 9
Things were going so well on the MB I started feeling a little cocky. I knew the changes weren’t my ideas, but I felt smarter for having the good sense of to listen to smart people. Anybody who says that women don’t have heads for business either doesn’t know women, or he’s a fool… probably a bit of both.
Patty Anne actually hired the fourth new man. Sheriff Nelson showed up one afternoon while I was at least ten miles away, somewhere across the valley in the northeast section. It was about as far from the house as I could have been and still be in the valley.
Nelson told her, he had a choice of throwing the man with him in the pokey for at least six months or find something useful for him to do to pay off his fine. It seems as though Michael Flynn had busted up the Beer Bucket Saloon and had busted up a few men in the process.
“Miz Blue,” Nelson said, “This here is a good man, but he needs a firm hand on his reins to keep him out of trouble. I took a chance on Ben and Andy on Marshal Stewart’s recommendation, and I’m recommendin’ this fella… Now if you’ll tell me where to find him, I’ll take Flynn up to meet with him. He’s owes about two hundred dollars in damages and fines, and I don’t want him sittin’ in my jail that long.”
As Patty Anne told the story… “Sheriff, you’d never find him out there. But I’m the expert on picking Irishmen in this outfit… I picked Blue, didn’t I? Don’t worry, whatever I decide, Ben will stand by it or he’ll shoot Mister Flynn if he has to. Now you two sit down here and have a cup of coffee and some of those donuts, while I ask some questions.”
We rode in the next evening, and I found a stranger in the stable mucking out stalls. When I asked him what was going on he replied, “Sor, the boss lady in there told me to do whatever that vaquero put me to doin’ till the boss got back… then I’s to do what thet worthy set me to doin’. And here I am muckin’ out these stalls… Yer H-onor.”
I had to admit, the stable looked better than it had in months. I couldn’t wait to get inside and see what Patty Anne had done. If she had hired that Mick, she must have had a good feeling about him, and that was enough for me.
“Ben, he knew about as much about cattle as most ranch hands know unless they were born on a cattle spread, but he knew more about horses than I did… especially those Irish hunters. He said his father was a groom and later a trainer on an estate in the old country…. But, Ben… the best part is, he’s tough he caused two hundred dollars in damages at the Beer Bucket and sent three men to the doctor. That’s the kind of scrapper you need.”
“What about the two hundred dollars?”
“Nelson said, you can give him ten dollars a month, pay the court twenty a month, and that will keep him here for better than six months.”
“That’s fine, if he’s everything you say he is, then he’ll make a nice addition to the crew. But… well, just but, for now.”
I had complete faith in Patty Anne’s decision, and I was sure she had consulted with her grandpa… At least I hoped she did, but I wasn’t going to ask either one. After supper, when the men had gone on to the bunkhouse, Gracy and I had a few minutes together. “Tom, would you bring the new man, Flynn up to my office?”
A few minutes later Gracy and Flynn were at the office door. Tom turned to leave and I said, “Stick around, Tom, this concerns you too.”
“You wanted to see me, Squire?” He asked, standing there with his hat crushed in his hand.
“Have a seat.” I motioned for them to sit. “This is just a friendly chat, Flynn. The arrangement my wife made with the sheriff stands unless she calls it off. I understand that you’re prone to having a quick and uncontrollable temper… I just want to go on record saying, your temper will not show its ugly head on this ranch or among the rest of the crew. What you do in town is between you and the town Marshal or Sheriff Nelson… What happens on the MB is between you and me… is that understood?”
“It is, Sor… It’s the wheskey that makes me crazy, Sor.”
“Well that’s easily fixed, because for the next six and a half months, you won’t have enough money in your pockets to drink enough whiskey to get crazy. If I was you, I’d leave it alone.”
“But, Squire, I’m Irish, and we drink wheskey. It’s in our blood.”
“Flynn, take a look at this red hair and these green eyes… I was born here, but my ma and pa came from Galway… and I hardly ever drink anything stronger than beer.”
He craned his neck and took a good look at my face and nearly shouted, “Jāsus, Mary, an Joseph! Can thet be true?”
Gracy took over with the response to that, “Take my word for it, or ask McCoy… He’s been in enough saloons to know the drinkin’ habits of every man in the county.”
I had a hunch that Mick would do just fine, so I welcomed him to the ranch and sent him back to the bunkhouse. I was dog tired from the day’s, so I rinsed myself off and found my side of the bed long before Patty Anne came to join me.
Dreams, to me, are something to pass the time while a person is otherwise unconscious. Usually, I don’t even remember them and am not even sure I had them, but every now and then, one creeps into my night and there’s no forgetting it. Mostly they’ve been the result of some violence I’ve been involved with. I’ve left blood on my back trail all the way to Missouri, and it started when I was only a boy. Each time I’ve had to take a life, it was a matter of saving some innocent person or my own hide… except one.* *See… Hickory Jack.
So when I bolted up from what at first, I thought was a deep and much needed sleep, I knew something was very wrong. I took a match from a small bowl on the bed table and scratched it with my thumb nail. Cupping it with my hands I held it over my railroad watch on the table… it was 3:45. Blowing out the match, I waited till it was cool enough and put it back in the bowl. I had my pants and boots, and I was slipping out the bedroom door when Patty Anne whispered in a sleepy voice, “Ben, what is it… the baby?”
“No, Sugar Pie, I drank too much coffee before I went to bed… Go back to sleep, I’ll check on the youngens before I come back.” Something told me I wasn’t going back to bed that night. I padded out into the hall and slipped into my pants and boots, and started wondering what it was that woke me from a deep sleep.
Stirring up the coals of last night’s fire in the cook stove, I tried to keep as quiet as possible; Maria’s quarters were just on the other side of the kitchen wall. When the stove was hot enough, I set the remains of last night’s coffee on the iron plate to warm it. A lot of folks wouldn’t drink old coffee like that. But when you’ve spent enough nights in a cow camp or high in the hills, you learn to drink what
ever’s hot.
Cup in hand, I walked out on the open air courtyard to do some pondering. I knew the night air would be cool, so I grabbed a Navajo blanket on my way out to throw over my shoulders. Once I had my cup in both hands and my feet up on a low table, I sat back and started contemplating. There was something in my mind trying to dig its way out. It was just there in the front of my mind just behind my eyes, and it was scratching and clawing to get out.
I sat back and closed my eyes to try and picture whatever it was, but it didn’t help. So I opened them again, and there it was… a fleeting flash of misty light and that strange Indian standing there looking at me and then he was gone. He was gone, but the memory was there. The memory of looking at the man standing beside my bed, but it didn’t seem a dream. I could see him in a pitch black room, but that couldn’t be possible… it had to be a dream.
He stood there for a half a minute without moving or saying anything or moving, and then he said, “RáwT-hawné”… respect our home. It had to be a dream. But there was something else. He turned and faded into the dark… whatever light he had was gone. There was something else nagging at me, but whatever it was, I couldn’t remember.
I finished the last of the old coffee and was going in to make some more, when I heard rustling in the kitchen. By the time I got there, the light was on and Maria was making a fresh pot. “Ju shooldn’ dring dat old coffee.” She scolded. “Wake me an’ I make more fresh.”
“I didn’t want to wake you, Maria… I know you pretty girls need your beauty sleep.” She blushed and shooed me out of the kitchen.
Patty Anne came in carrying baby Elizabeth and handed her to me. She was all fresh, wide awake, and ready to charm anyone who came within her realm. I carried her back to the bedroom and sat her on the bed while I put on a clean shirt. Then we went back out to join the rest. Sam took her from me and wandered off with her while he waited for the men to start filing in.
After the men had gone, Patty Anne sat nursing the baby, and I was busy trying to coax Andy to finish his oatmeal… both of us lost in what we were doing. “Ben,” she asked, “were you up in the pines yesterday?”
