When Dell would ask about their ultimate destination, his father’s reply was always the same: “I’ll know when we get there.”
* * *
* * *
DARBY LEFT THE saloon early in the evening, feeling the welcome warmth of the whiskey in his stomach. There was a smile on his face. Maybe his sorry luck was about to change.
When he returned to the Bradleys, the old man had left. “He insisted he was feeling fine, thanked me kindly, and was on his way,” Mrs. Bradley said. “He was limping quite badly, I might add.”
“I appreciate you caring for him,” Darby said. “I’m feeling a bit wore out, so I’m gonna go bed down over behind the corral. Tell the young’uns I’ll see them in the morning.” For reasons he didn’t completely understand, he wanted to slip away before the children would know that he’d been drinking.
“I’ll do what I can to rustle up something for breakfast,” Mrs. Bradley said.
* * *
* * *
WILL WAS FEELING rested and surprisingly clearheaded the following morning when he checked on the progress being made on the wagon. Father Bradley met him in front of the blacksmith’s tent, his spirits high. He was holding a Bible.
“Angels come visiting us last night,” he said. “That man you met yesterday—Mr. Baggett—he came by and made arrangements with the blacksmith for payment of repairs to our wagon and the return of our mule. Next thing, he approached my wife and placed a twenty-dollar gold piece in the palm of her hand. Never said so much as a word. What a fine Christian man he is. Certain proof that God does work in the most mysterious of ways.”
Will went in search of Baggett and found him and his son saddling their horses. “I heard about your act of kindness,” he said.
Baggett didn’t respond.
“And,” Darby continued, “I’d like to accept your offer of that job if it still stands.”
Baggett adjusted his hat and nodded. “We’ll ride out soon as we partake of Mrs. Bradley’s breakfast. She just informed me that she purchased fresh eggs and sweetbreads down at the mercantile.”
* * *
* * *
AFTER THEY ATE, Will moved to sit next to Father Bradley. “Seems you folks ain’t the only ones to experience recent good fortune,” he said. “I’ve been offered a job, which I’ve accepted. So I’ll be saying goodbye and wishing you good luck on the remainder of your journey. I put your shotgun in the wagon.”
“God be with you,” Bradley said. “It’s been a pleasure knowing you, and I’ll keep you in my prayers.”
Darby walked over to the children and gave them each a hug. “Miss Darla, you keep tending to your reading,” he said. He tipped his hat to Mrs. Bradley.
There was a momentary silence, as if there was something left unsaid, before he turned away and mounted his horse.
The children were still shouting their goodbyes as he joined Baggett and his men, headed north.
When the riders reached the edge of town, they saw the old man Darby had rescued standing by the road. As they passed, he removed his sweat-stained hat and waved.
The West Texas terrain was bleak, arid flatland for as far as the eye could see. Once the homeland of bands of Comanches who hunted buffalo and waged war against white man trespassers, it was now the location of a few small, isolated ranches and settlements and a route for fortune seekers on their way to the silver mines of New Mexico.
Baggett and his son rode lead with Darby and the three others trailing. Through much of the day, they kept a steady pace with little conversation. Finally, Baggett turned in his saddle and said, “A short way from here is a creek with a stand of trees on its bank. We’ll stop there to allow the horses to drink and get us some shade.”
Will wondered about their ultimate destination, but didn’t ask. Neither did his fellow newcomers.
They had not anticipated the scene that greeted them as they arrived at the creek. Four men sat beneath the shade of a tree, their horses tethered nearby. The burned-out campfire indicated they had been there a while. Along the water’s edge was what appeared to have been a makeshift pen.
“Come and sit a spell,” one of the men called out. “We got good news.”
He went straight to Ben Baggett and handed him a saddlebag. “Thirty head,” he said, “five of ’em calves. All fat and in good health. They brought you top dollar.”
Saying nothing, Ben opened the bag and began counting the money.
“Wasn’t much of a place,” another said. “Little old dog-run cabin in the middle of nowhere. No fences. They didn’t even know we’d come. We was on our way and long gone before they even woke up. Last night, we drove the cattle to meet up with the driver who was expecting them, collected our pay without problem, and returned here to wait for you to arrive.”
He turned to Dell Baggett, who was still sitting astride his mount. “You bring anything to drink?”
Darby listened to the exchange, then watched as Ben counted out bills and handed them out to the four men. He wondered what he’d gotten himself into.
“There’ll be no drinking until our work’s done,” the elder Baggett said. “I assume we’ve got another plan.”
Another of the men stepped forward. “I rode about a day and a half to the east,” he said, “and found two more places. They’re little, but they’ve got a right smart of cows grazing. I’d guess twenty or thirty head at each. And I didn’t see no neighbors anywhere near. Quieter than a Baptist graveyard.”
He’d drawn a crude map, which he pulled from his pocket.
The man who had been in charge of the saddlebag said, “The folks we did business with last night said they’re interested in buying more as soon as we can provide them.”
Baggett seemed pleased. “Let’s get some rest. Then you boys can head out tomorrow. I’ll be going on home, leaving Dell and these new boys to give you a hand.”
A campfire took the night chill from the air, its flames playing against the faces of the new recruits, who sat listening as Dell Baggett outlined the operation his father had devised.
Passing the map around, he said, “You’ll ride out in two groups, four in each. Two of you will be accompanying the men with experience at this. They’ll do any explaining necessary along the way. You’ll be pleased to find it ain’t a complicated undertaking. Once you’ve collected the cattle, you’ll herd them to a place that’s already been scouted out and wait for the buyers to arrive.”
The newcomers were silent, contemplating the activity they’d hired on for.
“Anybody got questions?” Dell asked.
Will spoke up. “I got no weapon since mine was stolen.”
“It’s not likely you’ll be needing one,” Dell said.
* * *
* * *
THE LEADER OF Darby’s group was a one-eyed man called Bootsy, who enjoyed talking, mostly about himself. He’d come to Texas from Kansas to avoid spending time in jail or dangling from the end of a rope for killing a man he hit over the head with a rifle barrel. The man had “full well deserved it,” he said.
“In case you’re wondering about our plan, it’s a simple one that’s worked time and time again since I hired on with Mr. Baggett. We’ll schedule our arrival at some time around dusk. We’ll get close enough to the ranch only to learn the lay of the land and where the cattle graze. That done, we’ll locate ourselves a resting spot and wait until around midnight to carry out our business. I’ve already been told there’s no fencing, so that’ll not pose us a problem.
“If you’ve not herded cattle before, be assured it ain’t difficult. They’re not very smart animals and will head in whichever direction you point them. I’ve got makings for torches we can use to light our way to the holding pen once we’ve distanced ourselves from the pasture.”
He scanned the anxious faces of the two newcomers and laughed. “You boys got no need
for worry,” he said. “This’ll be the easiest payday you’ve ever earned. Unless, of course, you’ve got bank robbing in your history.”
Will found himself wondering how many of those who had hired on to Baggett’s “cattle business” were lawbreakers. And how he’d feel once he joined their ranks. In an effort to dismiss such thoughts, he reminded himself of his empty pockets and the absence of any other plan for his future.
“An easy payday’s waiting,” he whispered to himself.
“I got one other rule,” Bootsy said. “It’s one I ain’t never shared with the boss or his boy and needs to be kept secret among us. Most of these folks keep their milk cow near the barn but occasionally they’re allowed to graze with the herd. Wherever they are, they’re to be left behind. Stealing a family’s milk cow ain’t in my makeup. Nor should it be in yours.”
* * *
* * *
JUST AS BOOTSY had promised, it was easy. The cattle were docile and willing. Calves dutifully trailed along behind their mothers. The theft was carried out in a matter of minutes. No lanterns were lit in the ranch house. No booming sound of a warning shotgun blast had broken the night’s stillness.
The unsuspecting family, whoever they were, had been robbed of their hard-earned livelihood without anyone even waking.
Twenty-four hours later, the job was done. Wranglers from a herd en route to Kansas City had come and driven the stolen cattle away. The money bag hung on Bootsy’s saddle horn.
“Everybody did good,” Bootsy said. “Time now we head to the canyon.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AS THE HORSES carefully made their way down a narrow trail, the horizon disappeared, replaced by towering walls of jagged rock formations. Darby had never seen anything like it. “What is this place?” he called out to Bootsy, who was leading the way.
“It’s called Palo Duro Canyon,” he said. “Runs for miles and miles, getting deeper and deeper. The history books say the Spanish explorers came on it hundreds of years back. Wasn’t too long ago that the Apaches, then the Kiowas, then the Comanches settled in, using it as a place to do their hunting and to trade horses to the Comancheros. Now it’s just us.”
“Us?”
“Yep, this here’s where Mr. Baggett headquarters.”
Shortly, they reached the canyon floor and arrived at an opening where a rambling encampment was alive with activity. Against both canyon walls were rows of small log cabins. In the middle was an open-sided pavilion, where meetings were held and meals taken. There were a holding pen for the horses and a cistern that provided water for a fenced garden. There were tents and dugouts, firepits, a smokehouse, and a storage building that housed everything from saddles to extra parts for a couple of wagons.
A flock of chickens scattered as the riders approached.
“You’ll be bunking in one of the tents,” Bootsy said. “The cabins are reserved for those who have been on the payroll longest.” He explained that when not on the trail, rustling and robbing, everyone had duties to perform at the camp. “Ol’ Duster, for instance, he’s the cook. Done the same for a cattle company down south before he joined up. He’s got a couple of boys who help him with tending the smokehouse and his garden, which he’s mighty proud of. We got fellas who are good at building things or cutting firewood and hauling water. The young Baggett has two or three he handpicks to occasionally accompany him into town for supplies.”
“What town’s that?” Darby asked.
“There’s a little place known as Tascosa that’s not too far north. Mr. Baggett don’t cotton to us visiting except on special occasions, so don’t be thinking about wandering off. I expect in time we’ll know what chores you’re best suited to. No doubt, there’ll be something that’ll keep you busy.”
As they pulled their horses up to a watering trough, the elder Baggett emerged from one of the cabins. “I see you boys made it back in one piece,” he yelled. “The other group’s already home.” He approached Bootsy, who was lifting the money bag from his saddle horn.
They walked to the pavilion and sat down at a table, where the cook had already placed a pot of coffee and tin cups. Dell Baggett joined them as his father shook out the contents of the canvas bag. “How many?”
“Twenty-eight,” Bootsy said. “One of ’em appeared a bit wormy, so I cut the price by a dollar, thinking that to be good business.”
Baggett nodded as he began silently counting the money. Once done, he made four small stacks of bills and pushed one in the direction of each man. Before he could ask, Bootsy assured him that the two newcomers had carried out their jobs well.
“Good to hear,” Baggett said. “Get yourselves cleaned and rested,” he said. “Then look to enjoying a home-cooked meal this evening. You’ll not be going out again for a few days. We’ve got a group that rode out earlier today, and Renfro’s on the trail, doing his scouting. When he comes back with news, we’ll consider plans for your next trip.”
He folded the money, placed it back in the bag, and left, Dell following. “You boys enjoy your coffee,” he said.
Once the pot was empty, the men led their horses to the corral and unsaddled them. “Which tent will be mine?” Darby asked.
Bootsy pointed. “That one over yonder.” He placed a hand on Darby’s shoulder. “How does it feel, having money in your pocket with more to come?”
“Can’t say I mind it.”
“My advice is save it and not go spending it needlessly. That’s what I’ve been doing for quite some time. One of these days, I hope to have me a grubstake large enough to start up my own cattle business.”
“Same as Baggett’s cattle business?”
Bootsy laughed and rubbed his hand across his blind eye. “What else?”
* * *
* * *
WILL STRETCHED OUT in his tent, enjoying the first moment of solitude he’d had since leaving Las Lunas. Several times he slid his hand into his pocket to touch his money. Earning the wages had not been difficult yet he had a disquieting feeling that would not go away. Not that he hadn’t stolen before, but taking from people who depended on what he’d taken for their livelihood troubled him. Thieving for a living, being part of an outlaw gang, was not a future he’d imagined for himself.
He felt his wages again, seeking some manner of justification for his actions. He attempted to turn his thoughts to other things. He closed his eyes and tried to visualize his pa and his brother, Clay, back on the farm, but the visions were marred by his awareness of the disapproval they would feel. The same happened when he thought of Father Bradley and his family. Will Darby felt desperately alone as he struggled with the most recent of his bad decisions.
* * *
* * *
IN THE MONTHS to come, his concern only grew.
The routine was always the same. One of the scouts would return to the camp, describing some hardscrabble farm or ranch where cattle could be easily stolen. They would ride out, do their midnight rustling, then meet up with trail drivers who paid for the herd and rode away.
For reasons Darby never understood or questioned, he wasn’t assigned a regular chore. With time on his hands, he occasionally volunteered to help cut firewood or haul water. He even took it upon himself to gather the eggs, making a game of seeking out the hidden nests of the free-range hens.
One evening after supper, he was returning to his tent when the cook called his name. “The boss wants to see you up at his cabin,” he said.
Baggett was sitting on the front porch, a glass of whiskey in his hand. “Thanks for coming, Will. Let’s go inside, where I can find you a glass. I recall you being a whiskey man, right?”
“Yessir.”
“Well, then, let’s have us a drink and do a little talking.”
The cabin was spare and uninviting. There was a single room with a large bed, a table, and chairs. Against one wall were a fireplace and a shelf that
held a few dime novels. The rug in the middle of the rock floor was faded and frayed. Will wondered why Baggett spent so much time in such a colorless place.
He poured Darby a drink and motioned for him to take a chair. “I’ve been waiting for you to get settled in before having this conversation,” he said. “You’re no doubt aware you’ve not been assigned any chores here in the canyon. The reason is I have a special job I’d like for you to consider. I’ve had it in mind ever since I seen how you fought off them fellows back in Las Lunas.”
Will was suddenly feeling uneasy but said nothing. Instead, he sipped at his whiskey.
“Don’t know as you’ve noticed,” Baggett continued, “but my boy ain’t what we’ll call assertive. He’s not likely to fight, even to defend himself. I’m aware of a few times when he’s taken a whupping, then lied to me about why he came home with a black eye or a split lip.
“As you’re aware, he occasionally takes the wagon up to Tascosa to buy supplies. And I know that while he’s there, he admires a visit to the saloon. There’s folk who frequent that establishment that don’t look kindly on us. My fear’s that there might be trouble one day that Dell ain’t properly prepared to handle.”
“I thought he was always accompanied by a couple of the men,” Will said.
“That’s true, but I have no confidence they’re capable of taking care of themselves, much less my boy, should things turn drunk ugly. I’ve seen that you’re blessed with that talent. So what I have in mind is for you to accompany Will when he leaves camp, particularly if his destination is Tascosa. It would give me a great comfort.”
For a moment, Will acted as if he was contemplating the suggested arrangement, knowing all the while that Ben Baggett would not accept no for an answer. “I’ll do my best, sir,” he said.
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