Bone & Loraine

by Ken Farmer

  “That just beats all I’ve ever seen. They sure didn’t fiddlefart around. Hadn’t been gone less than a month.”

  “Ya think?” Stella took of sip a of her cold coffee, made a face and got to her feet. “Want a coke?”

  “What kind?”

  “Dr Pepper.”

  “I might could.”

  Peach printed out the wedding picture plus the one beneath after her best friend left. She got out Stella’s magnifying glass and scanned the people in the photos.

  “Oh, my…”

  “What?” asked Stella as she came back in the room with the Dr Peppers.

  “I want you to look smack dab in the middle of the first row.”

  Stella took the glass and peered closely. “Oh, my Lord in Heaven…that’s a young Lucy.”

  “Uh-huh. First thought it was a child…Could knock me over with a feather.”

  “Would you look at some of these names,” said Stella.

  “My goodness…The captain will want to see this,” commented Peach.

  “You carry the cokes, I’ll bring the pictures and magnifyin’ glass.”

  They headed down the hall to the Captain’s office and barged right in.

  “Don’t ya’ll believe in knockin’?” He looked up from a stack of papers on his desk.

  Neither Stella nor Peach said a word, just laid the pictures on top of his stack of papers along with the dome magnifier and sat down in the chairs in front of his desk.

  St. John looked up disapprovingly over the top of his reading glasses.

  Stella and Peach both just pointed at the pictures.

  He laid his reading glasses down, picked up the magnifier and scanned the first picture.

  St. John got a grin on his face big as all outdoors. “I’ll be damned. Would you look at that.”

  “Look at the second picture and read the names,” said Stella.

  He started to read the names from left to right, “Loraine Bone, Lucy Wilson, Mary Lou Flynn Wilson…” He went back. “Lucy Wilson!” St. John looked up at Stella and Peach, both grinning like Cheshire cats and nodding.

  He held the magnifying glass directly over the small person. “This is our Lucy, about a year and a half after her spacecraft crashed.”

  “Close enough,” said Stella.

  “Huh…I’ll be damned.” He continued to read and his eyes got big. “Texas Ranger Bodie Hickman…Deputy US Marshal Jack McGann, Deputy US Marshal Selden Lindsey…Deputy US Marshal Loss Hart…”

  St. John looked up again. “They killed Bill Dalton in a shoot out…Wow!…Cooke County Sheriff Walt Durbin…a former Texas Ranger.”

  He grinned and shook his head. “Deputy Gomer Platt, Dr. Winchester Ashalatubbi…Bone and my God…The one and only Deputy US Marshal Bass Reeves.”

  The Captain paused, shook his head again and looked at the girls. “You know, there was one female Deputy US Marshal to work the Nations in the 1890s under Judge Parker…Her name was Fiona Mae Miller, she married Sheriff Mason Flynn of Jack County in early 1898…That’s who’s next, beside Bass Reeves, along with her husband.”

  “Deputy US Marshall Fiona Miller…‘A dashing brunette of charming manners…expert shot, a superb horsewoman and brave to the verge of recklessness’…that’s what one of the newspapers of the day said about her,” commented Stella. “Some called her a female Bass Reeves…but most just called her Lady Law.”

  “Now there would be a hand to draw to…Son of a gun!…Probably the best group of law officers in the West.”

  “Too bad Wyatt Earp couldn’t be in the shot,” said Peach.

  St. John grunted and then chuckled. “He couldn’t hold Bass Reeves horse, or Fiona Miller’s…for that matter…Bass served over 3,000 felony warrants in his 32 year career and many said Fiona was his equal…They worked together more than once.”

  Stella grinned. “I have the front cover to Ken Farmer’s novel, Lady Law, about her turned into a poster in my bedroom…She’s my idol. I’ve read everything there is about her.”

  St. John smiled big. “Well, grab hold of your butts, ladies…And would you believe that she and Sheriff Mason Flynn are Bone’s great grand parents?”

  “Oh, you hush up,” said Peach.

  “Surely you’re jesting, Captain,” commented Stella.

  “Kid you not,” responded St. John.

  JACKSBORO, TEXAS

  1898

  The door to the sheriff’s office burst open and Black Jack Webb pushed a bloodied face Slim Parker, his hands tied in front of him, inside. He was followed by seventeen year old Lisanne Gifford, the owner of the Flying L horse ranch and Buster Martin, her other hired hand. They also were bound.

  “Any problems?” asked Frank.

  Black Jack sneered. “Not so’s you’d notice…Darkie here wanted to have a little discussion about comin’ in, but, finally agreed it was the best thing.” He chuckled at his own perceived humor.

  “Put ‘em in one of the cells back yonder,” said Harlan. “We’ll deal with them later when we git the sheriff…May have to use that blond-headed split tail an’ the other one for barginin’ chips.”

  §§§

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  WILSON RANCH

  1898

  “This is interesting, Padrino,” said Lucy as she examined the moldivite crystal he used to amplify and channel the energy needed to sling him into the electromagnetic vortex. “It’s warm to my touch and there’s a subtle vibration in it.”

  “I was surprised when I came out of my meditation to find the lake gone…I knew I had been transported to a different time.” Padrino chuckled. “Just didn’t know which one until you perceived my presence in this time frame and I still can’t figure out how it happened to be the right one.”

  She smiled. “It woke me from a sound sleep. You’re as strong a sender as Bone…possibly a little more…but I think you’ve had more practice.” She handed the crystal back to him. “As to how Bone, Loraine and you were sent to this particular time…is something we may never really know.”

  “I’ve been practicing zen meditation for longer than Bone is old,” he said as he got out of the chair in the kitchen.

  They walked to the front door and outside.

  He and Lucy were the only ones up at this time of the morning, but Padrino wanted to get on the road.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to wait on Bone and them to get here?…They just left Gainesville,” said Lucy as she followed him out the front door.

  “No…think I’d better go on down to Jacksboro, reconnoiter the situation, and gain as much information as possible.” He winked and pointed to her bracelet on his wrist. “Need to know what we’re walking, or riding, into. How many bad guys we’re dealing with and so on…Kind of standard military procedure going into a conflict,” replied Padrino.

  “You’re probably right…Too bad I wasn’t able to bring any of our directed beam energy weapons from my ship when it crashed.”

  “Just as well, might cause a lot of questions by the townsfolk…Teddy Roosevelt said, ‘Do what you can, with what you have, where…and in this case…when you are’.”

  “I know.” She smiled. “I was there when he said it, but it’s a good point.” Lucy reached up and hugged Padrino’s neck.

  He turned, stuck his foot in the stirrup on the blue roan, mounted, and then shifted his weight to the right to recenter his saddle. Padrino had saddled his horse while Lucy cooked him some breakfast.

  “Tell Bone, I’ll get to them before they get to Jacksboro…There’s a creek to the northeast about a mile, think it’s called Hall’s Branch, or is in our time…Bone will know, he and I have fished it…Meet them there.”

  She handed him a small washed flour sack. “Mary Lou made some traveling food, coffee and packed a small pot, for you.”

  He took the sack and tied it to his saddlehorn along with his canteen. “Tell her I appreciate it…”

  “Be careful.”

  He chuckled. “You forget, I’ve
always been here…as you…or your Shaman friend said.”

  He squeezed the roan up into a road trot toward the entrance and with the sun just breaking the horizon behind him, headed toward Alvord, only fifteen miles away.

  COOKE COUNTY

  1898

  The three law officers rode with the bright early morning sun warming their backs as they left Gainesville, headed southwest past the small farming town of Era.

  Bodie and Fiona, in the carriage behind them, were slowly falling back as Bodie kept the two horses pulling the carriage at a more moderate pace so it wouldn’t be so rough on Fiona.

  “When do you think we’ll get to your sister’s place, Mason?” asked Loraine.

  “At this pace…I’d say ‘bout five hours, give or take.”

  “Hey, just in time for lunch.”

  “Damn you, Bone, is that all you think about…eating?” snapped Loraine.

  He chuckled. “Well…not quite all, hon. I’d say it’s number two on the list.”

  “Do I need to ask what number one is…Oh, never mind, I already know.” She blushed.

  “Man cannot live by bread alone…He’s gotta have…”

  “Bone! Hush…hush, just hush.”

  “You brought it up, babe. Just being honest.”

  “Be honest some other time.”

  He grinned. “If you insist…my acushla.”

  “Oh, Lord,” she muttered.

  “You can’t win, Loraine,” said Mason, who had been chuckling at their exchange.

  “I know…You’d think I’d learn.”

  JACKSBORO, TEXAS

  “Luke, go down an’ tell that little redhead to bring us some lunch an’ a pot of fresh coffee,” said Frank. “Harlan’s coffee can take the rust off’n an’ old horseshoe.”

  “Don’t like it, make it yoreself,” commented Harlan.

  “Don’t need to, that eatin’ place makes damn good coffee.”

  “Got a point there, brother, said Harlan.

  “Gonna take her a couple trips, what with all them extry mouths we got to feed back there,” added Frank.

  “Where do you think the sheriff and his wife will be comin’ from?”

  “How the hell do I know? Could be from the southeast, Waco way.”

  “Er east from Valley View or northeast from Gainesville, meby,” suggested Harlan.

  “Yeah, wherever they went, chances are fair good they went by rail,” added Frank.

  “Let’s have Black Jack to go tell the Apache Kid, Joshua and Doc to keep a extry special eye open. They meby will git here sometime later today or in the mornin’.”

  “When you wanna burn that coon?”

  “I’d say we wait till we got ‘em all…hangin’ an a burnin’…Our baby brother will be avenged. Then we kin go home,” said Harlan.

  JACK COUNTY

  HALLS BRANCH

  It was late afternoon when Padrino reined up on the east side of the creek. He found a good spot four hundred yards or so south of the road with a semi-secluded small clearing, plenty of winter grass and vetch coming up for graze.

  He would be able to build a hat-sized fire for his coffee and meal a little later and be downwind of any traffic.

  He staked out the roan and stripped its tack, knowing he would have to walk the last mile into town from here.

  Padrino donned his moccasins because they’d be quieter than his combat boots, checked his .45, racked a shell into the chamber, left the hammer in the full cocked position, safed the weapon and holstered it behind his back, under the jacket.

  He headed north along the creek, keeping in the cover of the trees and undergrowth along the banks. When he reached the road, he crossed over on the narrow, one wagon wide, wooden bridge, slipped to the side of the road into some junipers and watched the edge of town for a few moments.

  “Uh-huh, no one coming or going, just like the travelers said. Chances are they got a lookout close by,” he muttered.

  Padrino had waited until the last minute before activating the bracelet and going on into town, knowing he only had a little over an hour of power in the small unit. He pressed the two turquoise stones—the air within two feet of him shimmered briefly, and he disappeared as the light bent around him and he started walking into town.

  He passed another thick clump of cedars and caught sight of a horse tethered behind it and a dark-skinned man with long black hair with a red bandana around his head and wearing knee-high moccasins. He had an ammo bandoleer across his chest, held a Winchester loosely in his right hand and was smoking a quirley.

  “Apache…Walk softly Padrino and don’t make any prints,” he mumbled. Don’t want to get caught like the mad scientist, Dr. Jack Griffin, did in H. G. Wells, The Invisible Man, by leaving tracks in the snow.

  The retired Marine moved out of the grass alongside the road out into the rutted, packed dirt, knowing the winter grass would show him walking and toe-heeled past the lookout. Got one or more at each road coming into town, I’ll bet.

  As he walked on into town he moved up onto the boardwalk and then down to the square. Lucy had showed him a layout of the town in his mind as they visited. He headed toward the Sheriff’s office.

  He moved softly and was passing the Coolwater Saloon when the tall double doors inside the batwings, slung open and two rough-looking gunhawks stepped out onto the boardwalk, almost running into him.

  Padrino stepped back a few steps to listen to the two men, obviously part of the gang.

  “Sure as hell wish that sheriff and his bride would show up soon. This waitin’ is gittin’ on my nerves.”

  “Hell, Hoodoo, let’s go back in an’ git another shot of who-hit-John.” The man chuckled. “Free anyhoo.”

  “Dammit, Nickel Jim, you know Frank’d have our hides if he catches us drunk. Probably shoot the both of us.”

  “He’ll play hell…no way he kin outdraw Nickel Jim Coleman…no way, no day.”

  “Don’t git yer ass in a sling…You know you’d have to fight ‘em both. Them Rudabaughs always watch each other’s back…Fight one, fight ‘em both.”

  “Yeah, guess so…‘sides reckon we want to git paid, we’ll jest have to wait it out,” said Nickel Jim.

  “I could eat the sideboards out of a gut wagon. Let’s go over to that Sewell‘s eatin’ house and git fed…What say?”

  “Works fer me, Hoodoo…us, Luke an’ Black Jack gotta go pull our shifts, with the Injun, Doc, Rio an’ Boone, come dark thirty…Looks like Luke’s goin’ into the cafe now, too.”

  The two hardcases stepped off the boardwalk and headed catty corner to Sewell‘s Restaurant across the street.

  Makes eight, so far, figuring they got just the four main roads into town covered, plus the brothers…Ten.

  Padrino eased on down the boardwalk to the Sheriff’s office and put his ear to the door.

  “Where the hell are Black Jack an’ Dog,” asked Harlan.

  “Supposed to be walkin’ their rounds,” answered Frank.

  “Well, hell…shoulda brung more men. Ain’t sure that ten plus us is gonna be enough to cover any possible heroes in town.”

  Huh, two more…that’s twelve, thought Padrino.

  Harlan stepped to the door and jerked it open…

  §§§

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  WILSON RANCH

  1898

  Bone, Loraine and Mason trotted through the entry of his sister’s ranch. Fiona and Bodie were about two miles behind them.

  They reined up at the front of the house and were met by Lucy and Garin who came running down the flagstone walk toward them.

  “You’re just in time for supper,” she said.

  “Really? Who knew?”

  “Nice try, Bone,” Lucy commented at his subterfuge. “I hope Fiona’s feeling better.”

  A suddenly concerned Mason spoke up, “What do you mean, Lucy, what’s wrong with her?” He twisted in his saddle and looked back up the road to see if they were in sight yet.

  “
Yes, I suppose you wouldn’t know…She’s been ill. They’ve had to stop three times for her to throw up…It’s the pregnancy.”

  “I think I should go back and check on her,” said Mason, reining Sailor around.

  “It will pass, Mason. They’ll be here in just a little bit…It’s not something Bodie hasn’t seen before with Annabel, you know,” she said.

  “Bless her heart, riding in a buggy can’t be much help,” commented Loraine as she stepped down.

  “Better than mulebacking,” said Mason.

  Mary Lou and Cletus came out the front door. “Welcome, welcome. So happy ya’ll made it,” said Mary Lou. “Now I won’t have to warm supper up…Made your favorite, Bone.”

  “Hot dog, chicken ‘n dumplins. Love me some Mary Lou Wilson c ‘n ds.”

  “I suppose you won’t have any room for pickled peach cobbler?”

  “You mean my Padrino didn’t eat it all? He’ll kill for pickled peach cobbler.” Bone looked around. “Where is he, by the way? Inside taking a nap?”

  “He left at daylight. Said he needed to reconnoiter the situation,” responded Lucy.

  “That’s my Padrino. He retired from the Marine Corps as a Master Gunnery Sergeant. A veteran of several major conflicts overseas.”

  “What’s a Master Gunnery Sergeant?” asked Mary Lou.

  “The highest enlisted rank you can achieve in the Marine Corps…the grade-equivalent of a Sergeant Major.” Bone looked at Mason, knowing he would understand that.

  He nodded. “Sergeant Majors ran the cavalry. Know what you’re talking about. Gotta be one tough SOB.”

  Bone grinned. “You wouldn’t believe.” He stepped down also.

  “Cletus, why don’t you take care of their horses while they come inside…Oh, look! Here come Fiona and Bodie, now.” Mary Lou pointed toward the entry just as the carriage came through.

  “I’ll wait till they get here an’ do it all at once.” He looked at Mason and Bone. “If I can get a little help.”

  “Sure. Just want to check on my honey,” responded Mason.

  They turned as Bodie reined the team to a halt. “Whoa up there, boys, whoa up.”