Standoff At Sunrise Creek

by Stephen Bly

  “Yes, but I have arranged supplies so that we won’t be a burden,” Barton said.

  “How many people are going to be in our party?”

  “Two carriages, twelve soldiers. Quite an adventure, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes, indeed.” Harriet flashed her patented smile of agreement.

  After supper Harriet helped clear the table and excused herself to retire to her room.

  So young Miss Julie Cancino will be traveling with us?

  She opened her trunk and began to rethink her wardrobe.

  At 9:00 A.M. the next morning, two carriages rolled up to the two-story Victorian house. From her vantage point in the front window, Harriet watched Mr. Barton hop out of the front carriage and bound up the steps.

  “All right, ladies, let’s load up. Mr. Gonzales is driving our carriage, Gwendolyn. And Mr. Harvey, the second. Harriet, I believe it might be helpful if you rode in that one with Miss Cancino. She might need some assistance from time to time.”

  “Certainly.” Carrying an unopened parasol, she swooped down the steps and into the carriage. “You must be Miss Cancino.”

  You would think that even a waitress in a cafe would wear something a bit more modest. Of course, she might not have anything else.

  “And you must be Miss Reed. It’s very nice to meet you. I’ve been wanting to ask you a question.”

  “Please, go ahead.”

  “Are you going to marry Stuart Brannon or not?”

  Harriet Reed coughed and raised her gloved hand to cover her mouth. “What?”

  “Oh, you know how people talk around town. They say you’re sweet on Brannon. Now I wouldn’t blame you if you were. He’s probably the most famous man I ever kissed.”

  I suppose I could push her out of the wagon if we roll by a steep cliff.

  “I tell you what, Miss Cancino—”

  “Please call me Julie.”

  “Yes, and you must call me Harriet. Well, young Julie… what’s it going to be? Shall be fight and snipe this whole trip, or try to be friends?”

  “I had it all planned to fight and snipe, but… how about a little truce? You stop calling me ‘young Julie,’ and I won’t mention kissing Stuart. I’ve got a feeling we might as well be honest with each other. I know exactly what you think of me, and you undoubtedly know what I think of you.”

  “Julie, you’re probably the most forward woman I’ve met in a long time.” Harriet paused a moment. “And I think I like that.”

  Miss Cancino brushed her hair back. “Let’s start over.”

  “And how do we do that?”

  “Harriet, that is a beautiful dress.”

  “Thank you, Julie, and might I add quite honestly that if I had the nerve, I’d love to wear a dress like yours.”

  The carriage jolted forward, and the journey began.

  Near the south side of Prescott, Sergeant Cloverdale and his platoon joined the carriages. The party rattled down the dusty road out of the mountains.

  Lord, if I can’t keep him away from some dining hall waitress, I should find that out right now. I don’t want to be bitter, jealous, or vindictive.

  By noon Miss Reed and Miss Cancino were visiting like old neighbors, and by the first evening, Harriet treated Julie like a younger sister.

  “You look rather pale,” Harriet said.

  “I haven’t been out much. I am more tired than I thought. May I stay in your tent? I might need some extra help, and I don’t know any of these others.”

  “I insist. You should really lie down as soon as the cots are drawn up. I’ll bring you some supper.” She turned to the driver. “Mr. Harvey, you will need to assist Miss Cancino… and please be very careful.”

  Buzzing around through camp, Harriet soon had most of it organized, especially the care and feeding of Miss Julie Cancino. That evening, after Harriet prayed for the two of them, Miss Cancino spoke up.

  “This morning I couldn’t tell whether I wanted to shoot you or rip your eyes out. And tonight I want to hug you and say ‘thanks.’ How in the world am I ever going to compete with the likes of you? If Brannon is so stupid as to ignore you, I don’t think I want him.”

  “Julie, don’t think too lightly of yourself. You’re a beautiful woman… who’s had to work hard. That’s exactly the kind of woman who fits out on a ranch. Look at these weak, pale hands of mine. Hardly the look of a rancher’s wife.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that, but I’m just kidding myself anyway. I wouldn’t be of no help on a ranch… or anywhere, what with me being like this.”

  “Don’t you start feeling sorry for yourself. The doctor said the physical therapy and mineral baths should do you a world of good.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t need a world of good,” Julie said with a sigh. “I need a miracle.”

  “Then we shall ask the Lord for a miracle.”

  Midway through the next morning, it was obvious to all that Miss Cancino’s strength was failing. They continually slowed the carriage to avoid jolting her. And when they turned off the main trail to circle back into the hills towards Brannon’s ranch, the pace slowed even more. Unable to sit up, she lay across Harriet’s lap for most of the afternoon.

  After leading his troops up the mountains on an exploratory excursion, Sergeant Cloverdale rejoined the carriages by mid-afternoon. “The Triple B should be not more than ten or twelve miles up the road,” he said.

  “I would hardly call this goat trail a road,” Gwendolyn replied.

  “Should we try to press on tonight? Miss Cancino is having a rather rough time of it,” Nelson Barton asked.

  The sergeant tipped his hat at the women. “I don’t think any of us are in such a hurry as to jeopardize her health. Let’s camp by the cottonwoods.”

  Two of the men carried Julie to the tent, and Harriet helped her to bed.

  “I think it’s because the medicine wore off,” Julie reported. “The doctor had been giving me some laudanum for the pain, but I told him I didn’t want to take it anymore. I don’t think I’m any worse. I can just feel the pain more.”

  “Perhaps some sleep will help. I heard the men say we should be reaching Brannon’s before noon tomorrow.”

  “You know what’s funny, Harriet? Yesterday morning I was ready to claw your eyes out to get Stuart Brannon for myself.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I’d trade him straight across for a painless night’s sleep.”

  “And me?”

  “That’s the trouble. You’re just too nice to hate.”

  “Can I rub your shoulders?”

  “Please.”

  Lord, Julie is hurting so bad. This would be a very good time for a miracle of some sort.

  Within fifteen minutes, the miracle came.

  Julie fell sound asleep.

  ] ]

  The whole party buzzed with excitement as they broke camp the next morning. Each of them had a reason for wanting to see Stuart Brannon, and the prospect of only a few hours’ ride left refreshed them all.

  Miss Cancino seemed especially pert. “Harriet, you can’t believe what a difference a good night’s sleep made. I think that’s the first solid sleep I’ve had in two weeks.”

  “I know.” Harriet settled down in the carriage next to Julie.

  “How did you know?”

  “You snored.”

  “Oh, no… how embarrassing.”

  “I will never tell a soul—except…”

  “Except who?”

  “Oh… except for a certain Mr. Brannon. It’s the kind of thing I think he should know.”

  “What?” Julie shrieked. “You do that and I’ll… I’ll burn you at the stake.”

  Both women laughed.

  “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” Reed said.

  “Tell me the truth, Harriet, do I look frightful?”

  “I doubt if there has ever been a day in your life that you didn’t look beautiful. I had to shout to keep those soldiers from fighting over who wo
uld assist you to the carriage.”

  “Really?”

  “Disgusting, isn’t it?”

  They giggled their way down the road for the next two hours.

  ] ]

  Brannon spent the morning trying to carry water to the horse trough.

  I meant to set a pump by the barn. There’s no reason not to dig another well. It would save a lot of work, especially for cripples.

  He left his Winchester leaning against the barn and hopped across the yard with a wooden bucket half full of water in one hand and his piece of shelving under the other armpit. It took him ten grueling trips to fill the trough.

  By the time he finished, he was ringing wet with sweat. Finally, he perched himself on the side of the water trough and splashed water on his face. The water stung the infected places left by the cactus needles, but he splashed on more and more.

  Then he tossed his hat to the ground and dunked his whole body from the waist up, shirt and all, into the water. As he raised up, he shook the water off his head like a dog.

  The sound of hoof beats caused him to whip around to the north. The dust clouds of many riders so startled him that he jumped to his feet to retrieve the rifle. Pain shot through his right foot, and he collapsed into the dirt of the corral.

  The dirt turned to mud as he dragged himself toward the barn. Pulling himself inside, he leaned against the barely open door and cocked his Winchester.

  It took twenty minutes for the slow-moving procession to reach his house and roll into his yard.

  Cloverdale? The Bartons? Harriet? Miss Julie?

  His handy crutch board left by the trough, Brannon hopped into the yard using his rifle for a cane.

  “Yo! You by the barn,” Nelson Barton called out, “have you seen Mr. Stuart Brannon around?”

  Brannon glanced down at the water and mud still dripping. For a split second he thought about saying, No, you’ve got the wrong ranch.

  Seven

  Brannon hobbled a few steps forward and fell flat on his face. The sergeant rode over to him. “Don’t just sit there on your McClellan, Cloverdale. Get down here and help me up,” Brannon muttered.

  The sergeant turned to the others and shouted, “It’s Stuart Brannon.”

  “I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

  “What happened?” the sergeant pressed.

  “Are you going to get down here and help me, or do I have to shoot that horse out from under you?”

  For the next half hour there was confusion as Brannon tried to clean up, explain his circumstances, and offer hospitality to the entire party. With Private Jenner supporting his right side, he finally emerged from the house, fairly clean and almost recognizable. Everyone stopped their unloading and huddled around him.

  “I took a bullet in the foot and a piece of cholla in the face. I had to fight my way back onto my own ranch, was later jumped by three men, and spent a couple days delirious with fever. Other than that, it’s been pretty uneventful.”

  After catching up on their news, he gave a few orders.

  “Sergeant, you and your men can set up camp at the barn. Mr. and Mrs. Barton, Miss Reed, and Miss Cancino will take the house. And you drivers, you’ll be with me in the bunkhouse.”

  “Oh, we couldn’t push you out of your home—” Mrs. Barton protested.

  “You don’t have any choice, ma’am. Since this is my ranch, you’ll have to take my hospitality.”

  Cancino still sat in the carriage. When he finished, he hobbled over to her.

  “Miss Julie, I’m thrilled to see you out and around. I don’t think anything has cheered me up more than sighting you in that carriage. I still can’t believe it.”

  “Now, Stuart, you didn’t think I was the kind of girl you could just kiss and leave, did you?”

  “Well, I hope you don’t want that dance very soon. Hop and fall seem to be the only things I do well. Can I help you down?”

  “I wish,” she peered into Brannon’s eyes, “I wish I could bounce out of here and be of some help to you. But I… I mean, I can’t yet… you see, there’s just no…” She took a deep breath and glanced helplessly at Harriet.

  “Stuart,” Harriet replied, “Julie is unable to move either of her legs. That’s why she’s going to the sanitarium near Phoenix. There’s a good chance it will help.”

  Brannon sighed. “Don’t we make a fine pair?”

  Within an hour, Harriet had the whole party operating with efficiency. She and her sister settled their belongings in the house and began fixing dinner. Brannon was seated with his foot in the air on a chair on the front porch. Next to him sat Nelson Barton, and on the other side of the doorway, wrapped in a light quilt with her eyes closed, sat Julie.

  Soon Sergeant Cloverdale approached.

  “Now, Sergeant, exactly how did Mr. Barton rate a twelve-man escort?”

  “We got a report that a band of Apaches raided a ranch east of here. One of the leaders was a man called Two Slash. He has two deep cuts in his forearms.”

  “The same band that jumped you?”

  “Perhaps… that’s why we rode down here. Have you seen any sign of Indians?”

  “Only at the far end of the ranch, near Jinete Springs. They come out of the rocks and trees to borrow a little water from time to time.”

  “Is that east of here?”

  “Straight up the mountain slope. Just follow Sunrise Creek. About half a day’s ride.”

  “Maybe we’ll ride up there tomorrow and scout around.”

  “Good. Then the others can stay here until you return. You aren’t in a hurry to move on, are you?” he asked Barton.

  “In a hurry? I think Harriet’s moved us in permanent.”

  ] ]

  By early evening the Triple B looked more like a town than a ranch. The soldiers set up their tents across from the bunkhouse. Men milled around the barn, taking turns riding El Viento, who never grew tired of racing down the trail. Several worked at Brannon’s blacksmith shop where Barton’s drivers repaired one of the carriages.

  Brannon managed to pull himself onto the top rail of the corral and watch all the action. The lantern cast shadows of the women at work in the house.

  Well, babe, would you look at this? Our place packed with people. Someday, we said, there will be neighbors, and friends, and total strangers stopping by. Laughing, singing, working, playing… and little kids running through the yard.

  But there are no kids.

  I miss you, Lisa. I really miss you.

  “Mr. Brannon?” Private Jenner stood near the corral. “Mr. Brannon, would you like some help getting back to the house?”

  “Jenner, if you’ve got the time, I’d like your help getting up to those two piñon pines on that far rim.”

  “I got time. What’s up there?”

  “A couple of good friends.”

  He and Jenner didn’t say much until they reached the trees. “It’s a grave.”

  “Two of them. My wife and a son.”

  “Sorry, sir. Did the Indians get them?”

  “Nope. Childbirth. Jenner, would you mind giving me a half hour and then coming back?”

  He turned on his heels and moseyed back down the sloping hill.

  Brannon scooted over to the base of one of the trees and leaned his back against it. Picking up small pebbles, he tossed them towards the newly cleaned gravesites.

  For over two years I’ve been chasing all over this country. I know I should have come back sooner. One thing led to another… and I was scared.

  Scared that I couldn’t face the place without you.

  Afraid to come back.

  Afraid not to come back.

  It’s not the same.

  At least there are voices tonight. Voices and laughter and songs. Of course, they’re the wrong voices and laughter and songs.

  I know what you’re sayin’… two years is long enough.

  Well, Lisa honey, I thought it would be.

  But every woman’s smile makes
me miss you all the more. And the closer I get to them, the more my mind drifts to you. There’s two of them down there that… they don’t know me very well. But they think they do. I know which one you would pick.

  ‘Stick with Miss Harriet. She’ll make you governor someday.’ You know I’ve heard that line before.

  ‘That Miss Lisa—she brings out the best in you, boy. If you let her, she’ll put you in that big mansion in Prescott.’

  You and Harriet would have been the best of friends…or the worst of enemies.

  But don’t overlook Miss Julie’s type. When she regains her strength… she’d make a ranch wife. She’s a stander, too. She’d pull calves, shoot coyotes, mend fences, and raise a yard full of kids, and never complain. She’d run the ranch when I was away and never gripe about the mud on my boots. All she wants is someone to love her.

  But it’s not me.

  Lisa, I can’t make ’em happy. I can’t even make me happy. The only good thing that’s happened lately was this crazy land grant claim on the ranch. Now I’ve got a reason for hanging on… a reason for fighting them.

  Don’t get me wrong.

  It feels good to be home.

  Real good.

  Jenner came riding up to the trees, leading El Viento. “You up to a ride?”

  “Yeah, I suppose I could give it a try.” Using the tree for a prop, he pulled himself up. “Bring him around by these rocks.” With a hard yank on the horn and a leap, Brannon flung his right leg over the saddle and pulled himself up.

  Jenner handed him the reins. “Mr. Brannon, the sergeant says you’re one of the best Indian fighters in Arizona. Now I don’t aim to be an Indian fighter, but I would like to stay alive. What makes a man a good Indian fighter?”

  “To tell you the truth, Jenner, I never thought about it much. But I guess I would say, first thing is to try to avoid every fight you can. Make friends with them, avoid them, back away, or whatever it takes. Don’t look for fights.

  “Second, never, ever underestimate their strength, intelligence, and especially their courage. The men who came out here to fight ‘dumb’ Indians are all dead.