Ride The Wild Range

by Cheryl Pierson

  He gave her a shocked look. "My dear Mrs. Colbert – those are my two favorites."

  She smiled broadly, showing us to a small table at the back of the big dining room. "You may need to have a piece of each one."

  "Indeed," he responded as she walked away.

  "I wish—" I broke off.

  Grandpa nodded, knowing where my thoughts had gone. "I feel guilty too, sitting in here filling up on pie, and Jacobi out there in the night, living on God knows what."

  "Never you mind about him eatin' good, Grandpa. He'll eat something he catches. Probably go down river a ways and catch him some catfish. I just hate him missin' out on this pie."

  "With any luck, we'll be there tomorrow. It will take a long day of riding."

  "We can spend another night on the road if we have to."

  Just then, Mrs. Colbert brought out two steaming bowls of pinto beans and a platter of cornbread. "Potatoes are comin' right up," she said, bustling around our table to serve us.

  "Thank you," I said, as she hurried back to the kitchen.

  "I'd rather not do that, if we don't have to," Grandpa said. "I'm ready for these bast – these men – to make their move. Get it over with."

  "You don't have to worry," I told him earnestly. "Jacobi ain't gonna let anything happen to us, Grandpa."

  He looked at me over the tops of his spectacles. "You have such loyal faithfulness, don't you, William?" He smiled faintly, picking up his spoon.

  "I wish I could share it. I don't know Jacobi well enough to have the complete trust in his abilities that you seem to have."

  I blew on my spoonful of beans. "He's out there," I assured him again. "And he's watchin'."

  He nodded. "All right, then," he said, as if he'd resigned himself to the idea that there was nothing left to do but try to put his faith and trust in Jacobi.

  I knew he would not be disappointed.

  Chapter 36

  As we got ready to leave the next morning, Mrs. Colbert asked after Deelie Ray.

  "Deelie Ray, she's happy as a pig in mud," I answered. "She doesn't want to do anything but help Laura with the babies."

  "Well, you'll take good care of her, won't you, Will?" Worry clouded her face. "Deelie's had a lifetime of hardship. I'm glad to know she's getting a little piece of happiness there with your family. I'm sure she's a big help to Laura, but even more than that, it's good for the two of you to have someone close to your own age to talk to."

  She'd handed me a wrapped up piece of cherry pie, "For later," she'd said.

  "Deelie's a lot younger'n me, Mrs. Colbert," I said, feeling I needed to correct the idea that we were close in age. I was thirteen, and Deelie Ray was more than a year younger than me.

  Mrs. Colbert nodded, her blue eyes twinkling. "Oh, yes, I know, Will. But the older you get, the more the gap closes."

  I thanked her for the pie and said no more about Deelie Ray. But I thought about Mrs. Colbert's words, and it seemed to me she was talkin' about me and Deelie Ray gettin' to be good friends before it was all over with. I didn't think that would ever happen.

  As Grandpa and I climbed up into the wagon, I said, "How does she think I'm gonna be able to take care of Deelie Ray, anyhow?"

  Grandpa shrugged as he sat beside me, but there was a warm light in his eyes, almost like he knew a secret about Deelie Ray, or about me, or everything in general.

  "Things change, William. Nothing ever stays the same."

  "But Deelie's a girl."

  Grandpa chuckled softly. "Precisely."

  * * * * *

  As we rode on toward our destination, there was an urgency in him, and I knew he felt the coming loss too. He talked steadily, describing his own growing up years as a young boy. His parents had been Irish immigrants. They'd died on the voyage across the sea, leaving him to care for his little sister. At nine and five, they'd stepped off the boat two weeks after losing their parents, and slept in doorways, begging scraps until they'd been lucky enough to have been taken in by a church orphanage.

  One of the nuns, Sister Mary, had taken special interest in them. He'd yearned to go back to sea, but felt compelled to see to his sister. The nun had found him a position as a cabin boy on her brother's ship, promising young Robert he could go with a free heart. His sister would be well cared for there at the orphanage, or in a good home – she would see to it, and Robert could visit whenever he wished.

  "I've suffered my losses too, William." He scanned the far horizon as he spoke, but I knew he was seeing back through the years and thinking on everything that had happened to him along the way. "Losing one's parents is always a hard thing. I just wanted to let you know...I understand."

  I nodded, my throat feeling thick with unshed tears. I felt closer to my grandpa just then than I had ever believed possible. I tried to imagine how I might have felt in his place – if it had been one of the babies I had to be responsible for – or all three of them.

  "Thank you for telling me," I said quietly, sounding stiff as I said it. But Grandpa patted my knee. He continued on, telling me about his days as a young man and how he'd eventually become a partner of the sea captain he'd been with for so long.

  I tried to listen. I knew he was telling me as much as he could because...because he didn't want to be forgotten in death. But something prickled at my spine, as if I sat straight in the aim of a rifle somewhere. I glanced around, seeing Jack and Roy, but Bill was nowhere in sight.

  That wasn't unusual. He sometimes did ride on ahead, scouting for a place to make camp, or looking for fresh water. My mind kept turning over a problem I didn't want to face. What if they didn't make their move before it was time for us to head our separate ways? How could I abandon this old man to two – maybe three – cutthroats? I'd know it wasn't me they were after, but, by the same token, I'd be certain my grandfather would never make it back to Boston alive. I figured they were lookin' at it like this: My grandfather was about to die anyhow. Murderin' him on the trail was just going to ensure that no one back east knew about me. They may figure that would be enough – or I may wind up havin' to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life.

  We made camp that night near a small creek that wasn't too far from my old home place. We'd get up early the next morning and be back where this had all started no later than noon. I dreaded this reckoning, but knew I needed to see it one last time. It would take that for me to stop thinkin' on it so much and I was close, now. I was ready to put this all far behind me, get back to our ranch, and start moving ahead with dreams of my own.

  Roy and Bill had little to say to Grandpa or me on this trip. I figured they were startin' to get jumpy about what they planned. As for me, it was hard to just keep riding along on that wagon seat, pretending like everything was all right. A couple of times, I caught Roy staring at me, a cruel light in his eyes. I just turned my head away real natural and smiled at Grandpa, like he'd just said something funny.

  Now I lay quiet, as if I were sound asleep, a few yards away from my grandfather's tent. My mind still churned and it was hard to sleep, even as tired as I was. Eventually though, I did drift off, and dreams of Fen filled my head, along with the worry that he might have kicked the rail again while we were gone. I didn't have faith that Deelie Ray could get him back to the corral if that happened.

  "Boy. Boy!" A rough hand shook me awake, another palm clamping across my lips. Jack Wheeler knelt beside me, glancing around cautiously. "Got somethin' to tell you." He rose and melted into the nearby edge of the woods, beckoning me to follow. I glanced around from habit; I knew Jacobi wouldn't be visible to me or any of the others, but he was there. As if to reassure me, a whippoorwill's call sounded from farther on in the thick of the trees.

  I followed Wheeler a few steps into the blackness, dappled with spotty moonlight. He stopped abruptly and turned to face me. His Adam's apple bobbed. "I'm sorry," he said. "You and Mr. Green are in a lot of danger. Roy and Bill plan to kill both of you tomorrow."

  "What about you?" I as
ked.

  "They tried to get me to join them, but I refused. I'd bet I'm just as dead as you are, tomorrow."

  I smiled faintly. "I don't plan on bein' dead, Mr. Wheeler."

  "I'm leavin' tonight – goin' while the goin' is good."

  "Runnin', you mean," I sneered.

  His face turned dark. "I warned you, didn't I? It's more than I had to do."

  I remained silent.

  "Look, boy." He moistened his lips nervously, glancing around again. "I'll – I'll take you with me, so's you don't get hurt."

  "I know my way home – if I wanted to leave."

  He stared at me, hard. Then, he gave a solemn nod. "I'll be goin' then." He started to walk away, then glanced back at me. "I warned you, boy. I warned you."

  He slipped out of the shadowy forest into the open again, heading along the tree line for the horses. I eased further back into the woods and worked my way down several yards from where Wheeler had emerged. When I came out of the woods, I fumbled with my pants, as if I'd just come back from relieving myself.

  When I glanced up, I saw Roy watching me from beside Grandpa's tent.

  "Where you been?" he asked gruffly.

  "I had to take care of business," I answered in a sleepy voice, heading for my bedroll.

  "Did you see – anybody?"

  I shook my head. "No. Like who?"

  "I been feelin' spooked tonight. Ever since Trask hired us to bring you back—"

  Trask. Not Eddington. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. Marshal Trask. A man Jacobi thought to be a friend. I tried to listen to the rest of what Roy was saying, but I couldn't get past the idea that it had been Trask who'd brought this all to a head, rather than Eddington. No wonder Grandpa had acted so oddly when I'd said Trask's name earlier.

  "Boy – are you all right? You look white as a sheet. You see a haint or somethin'?" He gave a quick, nervous laugh.

  I forced myself to smile. "No. I just thought of something I-I forgot to do before we left. I never fixed the fence rail in the corral. I hope Fen doesn't get out." I moved a step farther past him, headed for my bedroll again.

  "Boy! I want you to know, I aim to deliver you all the way back to Boston," he said quietly. "Whether the old man makes it or not – you're goin' back."

  His words didn't surprise me. I wondered if Grandpa was awake and hearing him, but he didn't seem concerned.

  "Why bother?" I asked.

  "Because I don't get paid if I don't bring you back. I'm collectin' money from your gramps." He walked toward me slowly.

  I didn't budge.

  "But, I'm also gettin' paid by someone else. If it was just your gramps I had to worry about, why, you'd be free to turn around and ride back to Fort Worth soon's we're done tomorrow." He came closer, and I could smell his foul breath and the old sweat in his dirty clothing. "If I don't bring you back to Boston, then I don't get paid by Mr. Compton."

  "Who's that?" I took a step back just so I could draw a deep breath. I already knew who it was – my greedy relative I'd never met. But I had to pretend this was all news to me. I couldn't let him know that me, Grandpa, and Jacobi already knew what was going on.

  "He's the man who will be taking over Green Ship Building...once you're dead."

  I swallowed hard. Knowing someone has that in mind for you and hearing them talk about it so casually are two different things. And though I knew Jacobi was with me, this man wouldn't blink at anything he might have to do to get the promised money.

  He grinned. "You go on back to bed now. You're safe 'til we get to Boston. Run off, and the old man gets it right between the eyes."

  "He may not make it back to Boston, anyhow," I said, "as sick as he is."

  Roy shrugged. "If he don't, he don't. He's insurance for you, to keep you with us. If he dies, we'll think of somethin' else. Maybe we'll get ourselves back to Fort Worth and take that pretty little French girl with us when we leave."

  Deelie Ray? He was threatening to steal Deelie Ray? Though I wanted to tell him to go to hell, that he'd never get away with that, I had to keep my head and just nod. "Okay," I said thickly. "I'll go with you. No trouble."

  "Good. That's what I love to hear. I knew you wouldn't want no harm to come to her, or them babies." He nodded toward my bedroll. "Go get some sleep. And boy – you know not to say anything to your grandpa, don't you?"

  Anger, hot and bitter, stuck in my throat. I wanted to kill Roy Shale with my bare hands, but I knew I didn't have the strength or skill to do that yet, as Jacobi had pointed out the last time I'd gone after a grown man – Marshal Eddington.

  I just nodded and moved away. I lay on my bedroll and turned my back toward camp.

  Roy stood where he was, his laughter floating to me on the night breeze.

  "Laugh all you want, Roy Shale," I whispered softly to the darkness. "Tomorrow, you'll be singing a different tune."

  Chapter 37

  "What the hell?" Roy's voice was almost as high-pitched as a woman's and filled with fear.

  I opened my eyes to the gray and pink streaked dawn, the pounding of restless hoofbeats nearby, and Roy's voice even closer. I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes in the dim light.

  Jack Wheeler's horse, Jasper, was nervously prancing and whickering as it circled the campfire. It took a minute for me to register what I was seeing. Wheeler was dead. His body had been tied onto the saddle, the horse frantic with the smell of his blood.

  Bill managed to grab the reins, talking quietly to soothe the animal.

  "Christ," Roy muttered as he moved warily to join Bill in calming the horse. He unsheathed his knife and cut the rope that bound Wheeler's legs in place, then his hands. As he pulled the corpse from the saddle, the horse began to move restlessly again, and Bill led him toward where we had the other horses tied.

  "I'll be back in a minute after I see to this damn horse."

  Roy grunted in response. He sat looking at Wheeler's body, in shock. Slowly, he reached to pull the hat from the corpse's head, as if he feared what he might see. As the hat came free, I understood what had made him so reluctant.

  Wheeler's hair was gone. He had been scalped.

  "Injuns! My God, Bill, look what they done to Jack!"

  There was no response from where Bill had disappeared to take care of the stallion Wheeler had taken his final ride on.

  I eased back down on my bedroll, letting my eyes nearly close, barely slitted, so I could watch everything. Something told me this wasn't the work of Indians. If it was, we'd all most likely be dead by now, and in a lot worse shape than Wheeler was before he was killed.

  My grandpa put his head through the tent flap. "What's going on?" He took a step out. "Dear God—" He hurried to where Roy knelt beside Wheeler's body.

  "Them damn redskins scalped him, Mr. Green!"

  Grandpa glanced around quickly to make sure I was still asleep. I wondered if he could see my heart pounding through the material of the undershirt I slept in. I made certain to slow my breathing.

  "Let's get him moved," he ordered distractedly. "We'll need to bury him."

  Roy nodded. "Me an' Bill will take care of it." He glanced around, nervously scanning the tree line in case the Indians were still there, waiting to attack. "Wonder what he was doin' out ridin', anyhow?"

  Grandpa's mouth drew tight. "I'd say, Mr. Shale, that Mr. Wheeler had decided to leave our party earlier than expected. Any ideas as to why?"

  Roy shook his head. "He didn't say anything to me."

  "Hmm." Grandpa's blue eyes raked him slowly, letting him know he didn't believe him for a minute. "Quite peculiar."

  I could see that Roy was shaken by not only Wheeler's murder, but by grandpa's obvious mistrust. I lay quiet through it all, but my mind churned. Trask. Trask had been the betrayer, but that didn't men that Eddington wasn't working with him. Why couldn't Trask have left us alone? A wave of homesickness washed over me for everything I'd left a few days ago. I wondered if Jacobi was feeling the same way – missing Laura,
the babies, and even Deelie Ray?

  Then another thought came to me. What if Trask was out there, trailin' us too, like Jacobi? What if he met up with Jacobi? Jacobi wouldn't know Trask was involved. My mouth went dry. Trask could kill Jacobi. I had to figure out a way to warn him.

  * * * * *

  We got a late start, bein' as how we had to dig Wheeler's grave before we left and say some words over it.

  I could tell by watchin' Bill and Roy they were plenty worried – and with good reason. If it had been Indians who'd murdered Wheeler, then there was a chance of attack any minute, so they could finish us all off. But just as worrisome was the thought it might not be Indians at all. It might be someone else – Marshal Trask – sending Bill and Roy a message: No one was leaving before the job was completed.

  "I know about Marshal Trask," I said quietly, as Grandpa and I rode together on the wagon seat. "You should've told me and Jacobi. I mentioned him the day we were talking about chasin' down Laughing Wind. You never said he was the one who came to you. The one you hired."

  His head came up abruptly, probably as much at what I'd said as my sudden inclination to say anything at all.

  He started to defend himself, then fell silent. "You're right. How did you find out?"

  "Wheeler told me last night. He wanted to get away. He knew that Roy and Bill plan to kill you before you get back to Boston."

  At this, his lips curved. "Well...they may try, but I don't think it will happen quite that way."

  "Grandpa...Marshal Trask – he's – he was a friend of Jacobi's. If they run into each other out there, Jacobi's not gonna know Trask was the one who—"

  "Damn it!" He looked away, his eyes scanning the horizon as if he expected to see Jacobi or Trask approaching. "I-I didn't think of that possibility, Will." He shook his head at his deadly mistake.

  We were getting close to where our cabin had once stood, crossing familiar territory. Without the lumbering wagon, we might have already been there.

  That meant the showdown was also looming in the not-so-distant future, as well. Grandpa's heart wasn't strong. If things heated up like I expected, I wasn't sure he'd be able to survive it. And from the things Wheeler and Roy Shale had said to me last night, I knew the plans were to keep him alive as long as possible to hold me in line – then, if he hadn't already passed by the time we neared Boston, they'd kill him before we arrived. I had no intention of making that trip. Everything would end here, today, one way, or the other.