Raining Trouble

by Randall Sawka

  “Scrum,” mumbled Cochran.

  “That's right.” Ward replied. “He tried the same thing on Jed’s herd. We stopped him this time.”

  The chair squeaked as Ward slid it back. He stood up and walked to the window. “What’s the Kelly brand?”

  “Double T,” replied Donna.

  “And yours is the L L?”

  “That's right.”

  “Sounds to me like Scrum's triple-box brand would hide those brands if he's careful.”

  “Or if nobody looked closely for it,” added Lynn Cochran.

  “It's time I went and had a closer look at Scrum's cattle. I'll catch a little shuteye and leave at sunset,” said Ward.

  “Be careful, Ron.” Donna Kelly wore a concerned look. “There have been too many lives lost already.”

  “I will.” Ron smiled at Donna.

  Donna Kelly had let down her long red hair earlier in the day. She spoke with a grace that balanced well with her courage. Ron locked eyes briefly with the slim, attractive woman. Donna looked away shyly. Ron liked that.

  As the sun fell below the undulating hills in the west Ron Ward ate a hearty meal and drank two cups of strong coffee. “Time to saddle up.”

  “I expect Barry Scrum will have plenty of lookouts,” said Jed.

  “The going will be slow, but I have all night.”

  Ward rode toward the Scrum spread at a slow, steady pace. He stayed out of the moonlight as much as possible. On the edge of the Scrum spread he staked his horse in a small glade. He walked to the edge of the trees and studied the heavy rancher’s land.

  He noticed that Scum kept his cattle well away from the edge of his land. Ward smiled at the irony of a cattle thief worrying about someone stealing from him. At first he saw no Scrum hands on patrol. Twenty minutes later his cautious manner paid off. Two men slipped out of the darkness of a bluff and rode side-by-side on the perimeter of the land.

  Ron waited until the two cowhands moved well out of sight. He crouched low as he crossed the clearing between him and the cattle. His pace slowed dramatically as he neared the steers so they stayed calm. The sudden movement of a group of cattle would arouse suspicions.

  The first half-dozen brands he looked at had clear double-box markings. A large black steer also wore the triple-box brand. However, the brand seemed poorly burned. Ward slowly turned the cow so the moonlight fell on the brand. He again studied the brand. Most of the triple-box was clean. Only the bottom lacked uniformity. An extra mark jutted out at the bottom. With a better angle he confirmed it was the bottom of a 'T'.

  Half an hour later he calculated he had found over a dozen questionable brands. He turned to start back to his horse when he heard the unmistakable sound of a revolver hammer being pulled back.

  He spun to his left and found himself facing the barrel of a gun.

  A gruff looking cowboy peered down the site of the gun. “Saw you studying the brands, you lowdown cattle rustler. My boss don't take kindly to thieves.” The cowboy raised his voice. “Boyd, get over here, we've got trouble.”

  The second man, very short and bleary-eyed yelled from the trees. “What'd you find, Sam?”

  “Got us a thief looking over the Boss’ stock.”

  Boyd led out Ward's horse and added,” Haven't got much use for your kind in these parts.” Boyd pointed to a stout oak tree near a knoll. He gripped a rope hanging from his saddle. “I think we should make good use of that tree over there.”

  “You two got it wrong.” Ron Ward waved them off. “I just wanted to see if I recognized the brand. I hoped I might have heard of the owner and get a free meal.”

  Sam laughed. “With your fancy clothes and expensive gun, you aren't any saddle tramp hunting for a meal. Let's see that nice gun belt hit the ground.”

  Ward took his time removing his belt and dropping it on the grass. He needed time and an escape plan.

  “That gun will look good around my waist after we get rid of you.” Boyd picked up the belt and draped it over the pommel of his horse.

  The two Scrum hands tied Ron Ward's hands behind his back and took him and his horse to the tall oak. They helped him onto the horse. Boyd flipped one end of the rope over a sturdy branch and skillfully made a noose. He measured the length of the swinging rope against the height of Ward's head and secured the other end to the trunk of the tree.

  “This isn't necessary,” said Ward. “I'm no rustler. I was just passing through.”

  Sam sneered and jammed his gun barrel into Ward's side. “Now you're passing on. These are boss' orders.” Sam climbed onto his horse and moved beside Ward, facing the opposite direction. He looped the noose over Ward's head and tightened it. “When you get to Hell you be sure to say hi to the other low-down cattle thieves.”

  Sam backed away from Ward and steered his horse behind Ward's. He unraveled a whip and flicked it in the air a couple times. “Let's finish this.”

  “One move and I'll finish you,” said a calm female voice behind Sam.

  The whip stopped its back-and-forth action and limped to the ground.

  All three men looked in the direction of the voice, staring into the darkness. As she stepped forward the outline of a woman holding a rifle appeared just above the knoll.

  “I have a better idea.” replied Sam as he reared back with the whip. “Why don't you drop that rifle and hightail it out of here or this man is dead.”

  The report of the rifle sounded as the whip moved forward. The bullet tore through Sam's hand, the whip flopping to the ground. Sam gripped his hand while a second bullet flew past Boyd's right ear.

  “Am I going to have trouble with you two?” asked the female voice.

  Boyd jumped behind the cover of Ward's horse. “Now you come over here without that rifle or I'm going to show you what trouble is.” He fired two quick shots over the rear of the horse. Both bullets missed their target. Boyd again dashed for cover, this time behind the oak tree while holding the reigns of Ward's horse. With a firm grip on the reigns he edged the horse forward, the rope around Ward's neck grew taunt. “Ha, you're too late, lady.”

  Twice the rifle spat fire. The first shot grazed the rope wrapped around the tree. Bark sprayed outward. The second shot squarely hit the rope. The rope exploded into strands and split in two. The horse bolted forward, pushing Boyd into the open. The horse galloped forward with Ward in the saddle, his hands still tied and a noose around his neck.

  Boyd dropped to the ground and aimed his rifle in the direction of the woman. She had ducked away from the knoll and backed behind some trees. She aimed at the injured man, Sam. “The next shot will hit your forehead not your hand.”

  A short distance away Ward appeared, guiding his horse forward with his legs. “Whoa, boy.” The horse stopped near the oak tree. “That's it.” Ward eyed the standoff. His gaze moved from the two Scrum hands to the woman holding the rifle. “Donna,” he whispered to himself. Donna looked at Ward for a moment then refocused on the Scrum hands.

  “Enough. Don't shoot,” yelled Sam.

  The woman's voice grew even more serious. “You'll take one between the eyes if your partner doesn't drop his gun.”

  The rifle fired again, spitting up dirt next to Boyd's right boot.

  “Drop it, Boyd,” said Sam. “Scrum ain't paying us enough to take a bullet.”

  “All right, I'm setting down my guns,” said Boyd.

  Boyd raised his hands and took several steps forward and stood beside Sam.

  Donna gestured with her rifle to Ward as he sat on his horse twenty feet away. “Untie that man and back away from him, and make it fast.”

  The two Scrum hands untied Ron Ward and backed away. Ward rubbed his sore wrists, dismounted, and picked up his Colt.

  “I've got them covered,” said Ward, his voice raspy from the pressure of the noose.

  The silhouette on the hill vanished briefly, reappearing a few minutes later riding a horse that Ward had seen before; a Cochran horse. Donna Kelly dismounted and walked
towards the three men, her red hair even more striking in the moonlight.

  “Damn, Sam,” growled Boyd. “We got caught by a pretty young thing that can't weigh more than a feather.”

  “But she sure can shoot,” added Sam.

  Ward walked to Donna. “You are full of surprises.”

  “Happy to help.”

  Ron Ward smiled broadly. “As am I. If you hadn't showed up I'd be buzzard food by now. Can you keep them covered while I get these two skunks ready to go.”

  Donna Kelly loaded a bullet into the chamber of her rifle. “I won't miss at this range, that's for sure.”

  Ward emptied the bullets from their guns and tossed them to Sam and Boyd. “Now you two make tracks. If either of you so much as turn around this fine young lady will open fire.” Ron and Donna briefly locked eyes.

  A few curses from Boyd was as close to a goodbye as Ron and Donna received. The two Scrum hands rode away at a good pace.

  With the riders a safe distance away Ron showed Donna the suspicious brands. Donna looked closely at one. “You're right, I can see the faint remainder of our brand. That Scrum is a thieving dog. We should go straight to town and tell the law.”

  “Won't do much good, I'm afraid. Scrum has them paid for. It's up to us.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  Ward took a few steps up the nearby hill. “We'll get Scrum using that competitiveness he's so famous for. But, we best get out of here. It won't be long before those Scrum riders find some help.” The outline of Sam and Boyd's galloping horses grew faint in the distance.

  “I'd like to stop by home for a minute before we go back to the Cochran ranch.”

  “Let's ride.”

  Ron and Donna mounted up and moved at a pace towards the Kelly ranch. Ron glanced over at Donna a couple times. It felt right to be with Donna, very right. They took a route that included riding in the water of a creek for half a mile to throw off any Scrum hands should they try to follow. At the Kelly ranch they rode up in front of the house and dismounted. Once Dunn appeared like magic from the deep shadow of an elm tree.

  “You look like you're in one piece,” Ron kidded his good friend.

  “Yes, I'm all right, but I have company.” Dunn gestured subtly with his head toward a hill to the south where a man stood in the open.

  Ward nodded. “Saw him. Scrum must have sent him to keep watch on the herd he'd like to steal.”

  “He's like a vulture,” added Donna.

  “That man on the hill won't move in closer.” replied Once Dunn. “He took a few steps downhill and I sent some lead his way. Backed off quick. I slipped up there a few hours ago. He's alone. Just a kid, but his horse wears a Scrum brand.”

  Ward nodded. “I suspect he wanted to be spotted. Scrum probably sent him to remind us that he has his eye on this land.”

  Donna spent time visiting her parent’s grave while Ward and Dunn patrolled the ranch.

  Dunn looked at the red welt on Ward’s neck. “Looks like you had some trouble.”

  “Fact is that Donna saved my neck, literally. A couple of Scrum hands had me nearly swinging from a tree and she cut the rope with her Winchester. Fine shooting.”

  At the Scrum ranch Boyd and Sam told their boss about the man inspecting the brands on the cattle. Barry Scrum drained then threw his whiskey glass past the heads of Sam and Boyd. It crashed and shattered against the stone fireplace. “Ron Ward, it had to be.”

  “I want six men patrolling the ranch in pairs. Their orders are to shoot anyone that steps on my land. I’m going to make that Ward fellow and his giant friend pay for the misery he’s caused.”

  Ron Ward and Donna Kelly left the Kelly ranch at sunset. They slowly approached the Cochran ranch. Three horses were tied to the post in front of the house. They stopped and studied the horses.

  “I recognize them,” said Ron. “They belong to the Sheridan family.”

  “I know them,” responded Donna. “Bart is as fast as lighting. Scrum looked mighty unhappy at losing that money. If it wasn't for those two men watching out for Bart up on the hill he would have lost for sure.” Donna stared at Ron and smiled. “Was that you and Once?”

  “We were just trying to do what's right.”

  “You're full of surprises.”

  Lynn Cochran held out a pot of coffee and two cups as Ron and Donna walked in. “I was so worried about you two. Donna, taking off like that wasn't wise.”

  The Sheridan family got up from the table and greeted Ron and Donna. “We're so sorry to hear about what happened to your folks. They were good people,” said Susan Sheridan.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Sheridan. Those are kind words.”

  “Please, call us Tom and Susan.”

  Donna took a cup of coffee from Lynn. “Thanks, Lynn. I had a feeling Scrum would be watching the cattle closely. I just wanted to do my part.”

  “I'm mighty glad she did. Turns out I'd be a dead man if Donna hadn't showed up.” Ward sipped coffee as he told the others of his near-death experience.

  The group then gathered around the table and ate biscuits while they discussed how to handle the increasingly aggressive Barry Scrum.

  The door swung open and Once Dunn walked in. “Howdy, everyone. A Scrum rider rode up to the man watching the Kelly place and the both high-tailed it out of there. Sounds like Scrum has other plans.”

  “We're sensing the same thing,” agreed Ward. “We're trying to come up with a plan to deal with that rattlesnake.”

  Dunn tapped his six-shooter. “I'm ready.”

  Tom Sheridan stood up and stared out the window. “Most of us here have lost cattle to Scrum. If we could get most of them back that would hurt him in the pocketbook.”

  Lynn Cochran laughed. “That would drive him crazy. He's a man who loves his money.”

  “There is a way to do it, but it'll take patience,” said Ward. His words drew attentive silence from everyone. “Scrum knows we inspected his brands. We'll just have to hold off a bit before we make our move.”

  Donna smiled. “Luckily Scrum's hands are better at stealing cattle then branding.”

  “It shows Scrum's over-confidence,” added Dunn. “He doesn't think that anyone would dare challenge him.”

  “Let's do it,” shouted Jed Cochran. “Ron, what's the plan?”

  “For now we wait. Scrum will have plenty of gunmen watching his herd. I expect in a week or so he'll get tired of paying these men,” relayed Ward. “Then we strike, strike aggressively but quietly.”

  Over the seven days Ward and Dunn helped the three local land owners tend to their herds and also kept an eye on Scrum's land. As Ward expected, after several days the number of men on watch over the Scrum ranch dwindled down to a few men circling the perimeter.

  Ward and Dunn sat on a corral railing at the Cochran ranch. Jed and Tom stood nearby. All eyes were on the sky. The afternoon grew late and the clouds grew thicker.

  Jed said, “The hotter the day, the heavier the rain.”

  “Any way to tell the next few days?” asked Once Dunn.

  Jed nodded. “Sure, the hot days and rainy evenings usually come in one-week stretches.”

  “Been two so far,” interjected Tom. “Safe bet we'll have at least four more nights of rain.”

  “Good, very good,” replied Ron. “We move in thirty-six hours.

  The plan called for fresh horses. The next day Bart Sheridan led several horses to the positions selected by Ron Ward. Early the next day Ron, Once, Tom, and Bart left the Cochran ranch well before sunrise. The ride to the horses hidden on the opposite side of the Scrum ranch took much of the day. Several times they backtracked on rocky terrain and wiped away their tracks on open land left by their horses with tree boughs.

  As their ride approached midday Bart pointed to three sticks jutting out of the ground. “This is the spot. The fresh horses are amongst the trees beside a spring.”

  “Good. You get things ready. When darkness hits wait for the signal,” said Ward.
<
br />   “Right.”

  The riders switched horses. Bart remained behind while the other three rode through a tight trail in the trees.

  As the sun grew weaker Bart collected dry brush from under the thicker trees. He built a long, fairly low, pile of wood far enough away from the trees that the fire wouldn't spread into them.

  The other riders moved further north, half a mile from the Scrum ranch house, but well out of sight.

  Ron dismounted. “We’ll rest here for a time. Everyone try to get some shuteye.”

  Once Dunn kept watch for the first two hours and Ron Ward took over for the next two.

  For the next hour they collected dry wood and built a large wood pile, again in a place where it wouldn't spread to other timber.

  Once and Tom put the finishing touches on the large pile of wood while Ron edged his way through the trees towards the rear of the Scrum ranch buildings. He saw one man standing guard near a corral well away from the main house. The man looked bored. Ward moved cautiously as he drew closer. Ward stopped at the edge of the trees twenty feet behind two older buildings at the far end of the Scrum ranch. The decaying structures leaned to one side. Tall grass encircled both building, dry grass protected by the overhanging roof. None of the grass had been disturbed. The buildings hadn't been approached, much less used, in years. Ward fell to the ground and crawled to the back of the closest building.

  He pulled out his knife and scraped away the grass, leaving a bare patch of soil a foot wide and several feet long leading away from the building.

  Ward peeked around the building. Two cowhands stood about twenty-five feet in front of the building. They talked while one of the men cinched down a saddle. They stood there for several minutes, but it seemed like hours to Ward. The two men saddled up and loped off towards the main herd of cattle at the opposite end of the ranch.

  “At last,” Ward whispered to himself as he piled brush and dry grass against the old building. On top of this he set a bed of green branches and leaves. He pulled a long piece of cotton out of his pocket and twisted it tightly. The makeshift fuse stretched two feet away from under the pile of kindling against the old wooden building.