by Chloe Carley
“Any idea how many cattle are missing yet?” Thomas said, getting down off Scout and beginning to look around.
“We counted just ten head missing. They took them out of the paddock over there; Mr. Jacques had them in for selling next week at the cattle auction. We’ve lost a lot of money,” Billy said, shaking his head.
“Do you think you can find them, Sheriff?” Jackson asked, and Thomas shook his head.
“I don’t know, Mr. Jacques, but I’ll try my best. The trail here, it leads right out to Westfort, doesn’t it? That’s the way anyone rustling cattle would go. The terrain around here is too rough to drive cattle across country,” Thomas noted, looking at the steep hills on either side.
Jackson nodded, pointing off down the trail.
“Westfort’s still a thirty-mile ride away, but I guess it’s possible that they’ve come out of there,” he said.
“Then I’m not going to waste any more time here. I’ll ride the trail and see what I can find,” Thomas said, climbing back onto Scout, determined to have something to show for his efforts.
“Don’t you need backup if you’re going after them, Sheriff?” Jackson said, but Thomas shook his head.
“I’ve faced enough bandits in my time,” he said confidently, and without another word, he rode off in a cloud of dust.
Thomas wasn’t afraid—he wasn’t afraid of anyone, or so he told himself. His life had been hard, but what no one else realized was just how close to home this all felt. He knew the mindset of an outlaw better than any lawmaker in the state, because he was raised on it. He’d spent a good part of his life on the wrong side of the law, following his father and half-brother on just these kinds of raids. He knew how outlaws thought, and if he were still in the business then he’d head straight to Westfort, too.
“Come on, Scout, let’s see what we can find,” he said, urging the horse on faster down the trail.
***
Thomas had ridden for around ten miles, passing quickly along the trail and meeting nobody on the way. The road to Westfort was long and lonely, with just a few isolated ranches along the way.
Perfect for making a quick escape and not being seen, Thomas reasoned, pulling in Scout’s reins and pausing to look ahead.
The trail ran through scrubby grasslands, turning through a ravine which would be the perfect place for an ambush, or so Thomas thought.
It’s just where I’d ambush someone, he thought, urging Scout on more cautiously now.
But as he rounded the corner and came into the ravine, where the cliffsides obscured the sun and shadows were cast by the overhanging rocks, a disturbing sight met his eyes. There, in a posse, deep in conversation, were three men. At the sound of Scout’s hooves they turned, their faces obscured by bandanas which masked any hope of identity. Seeing Thomas, their hands went to their pistols and in an instant, he was surrounded.
“It’s mighty hot to have your faces obscured like that,” Thomas pointed out, looking at each of the men in turn.
“What business is that of yours?” one of them growled.
Thomas didn’t recognize the voice, but the man pulled his pistol out and pointed it at him threateningly.
“Now then, you don’t want to be doing that. Can’t you see who I am?” Thomas asked, pointing at his sheriff’s badge.
The other men laughed.
“Sure, we know who you are, Sheriff Redmond of Lakestone. Well, you’re ten miles out of your jurisdiction, and last time I heard there was no law against three men minding their own business out on the trail,” one of them said, also taking out his pistol.
“And if you’re so certain of yourselves, why the need to point those things at me?” Thomas asked, his hand on his own pistol as he spoke.
“You’ve got to be careful out on the trail, Sheriff,” the lead man said, “you never know what kind of danger you might bump into.”
The others laughed once more, still holding their pistols firmly in Thomas’ direction.
“I don’t want any trouble. Have any of you seen any cattle in these parts?” Thomas asked.
“Cattle?” the man replied, “why would we have seen any cattle?”
“Cattle being driven along here toward Westfort, earlier today. You’ve been on the trail overnight, I guess?” Thomas asked, still standing his ground, though growing increasingly nervous.
“Our business is our own, Sheriff Redmond, but we’d be glad to see you safely back to Lakestone. The trail can get pretty dangerous here, you’ll never make it to Westfort and back in a day. Best just to get back, don’t you think?” The man looked down at his pistol and back at Thomas.
Thomas wasn’t easily beaten, but he was no fool either. These men knew precisely what they were doing and while he himself was quick on draw, he couldn’t hope to out-gun three ruthless men with their pistols pointing in his direction. Grudgingly, he pulled Scout’s reins around, making no reply to the three men as he set off back down the trail toward Lakestone.
“Take care, Sheriff,” one of them called after him, “it’s amazing how many accidents can happen when you ride out alone.”
Thomas took a deep breath, urging Scout on along the trail. He didn’t like being beaten, but it was better to live to fight another day than find yourself in a firefight you couldn’t hope to win. Every mile or so he paused, glancing back in the direction of Westfort, and each time he could make out the figures of the men, following him at a distance.
They’ll see me home, but at least I know a little more about them, he told himself.
If his half-brother was involved in all of this, then it was clear that the operation was a big one. Those three men were just henchmen, hired hands to guard the trail and provide a lookout. Thomas was convinced that the rustled cattle were only a short distance further on ahead, but if he’d tried to ride any further, he’d have had three bullets in him.
He didn’t pause at Bison Gully, nor at Lakestone Creek, and instead rode at a gallop for the last couple of miles, shaking off his minders and arriving back in Lakestone, just as the clock on the bank said two o’clock. He tethered Scout up outside the sheriff’s office and made his way straight over to the mayor’s lodgings just as a shout came from the veranda of the Anaconda Hotel.
“I see you were too busy for lunch today, Sheriff,” Mayor Gould called, ambling over to him.
He looked every bit the fat cat bureaucrat and smelt of liquor, his starched white shirt conspicuous with a gravy stain. He let out a belch as he pulled himself up the steps of his office, with Thomas following behind.
“Mayor Gould, I was just coming to see you. I’ve some news about the cattle rustlers,” Thomas said.
“And about time too, Sheriff. How long has it taken you to make any kind of progress in this business?” Mayor Gould said, leading Thomas inside.
“There was a raid last night. They took ten head from Jackson Jacques’ place,” Thomas said, following Mayor Gould into his office.
The mayor slumped into the large chair behind his desk, reaching out to pour himself a brandy and belching once more.
“Bison Gully? And what have you done about it?” the mayor asked, fixing Thomas with a squint of his eyes.
“Well, Bison Gully is on the trail heading out to Westfort; it’s clear the rustlers are driving the cattle that way. They’ll auction them there—no one cares where the animals come from out there, money’s all that talks,” Thomas replied.
“So, they take the cattle there and then what? I’ve got folks asking me when the sheriff’s going to do his job and catch these outlaws,” the mayor said, his face growing red and angry.
“I trailed the cattle out toward Westfort, but I encountered a group of men on the trail. Nasty sort, they were, three of them in all. They pulled pistols on me and made it very clear that they’d not take kindly to my going any further,” Thomas replied.
Mayor Gould’s eyes narrowed and swirled the brandy ponderously in his glass.
“Aren’t you the sheriff?
Isn’t it your job to see to it that men can’t just run around touting pistols on the trail, or are you admitting you can’t do your job properly?” he asked.
Thomas shook his head. There was no reasoning with Mayor Gould. He saw things as he wanted to see them and, in his mind, it was better for the sheriff to die in a firefight than retreat to fight another day.
“It was three to one, Mayor Gould, and they each had a pistol on me. Besides, even if I’d won a firefight, I’d be no closer to catching the real outlaws. Westfort’s outside my jurisdiction, and by now those cattle will be sold. We’ve got to catch these outlaws in the act, but at least I know where they’re coming from now. Westfort’s the place, and I promise you I’m doing all I can to find the men responsible,” Thomas said.
The mayor shook his head, clearly still unconvinced. But he offered no further remonstration, instead dismissing Thomas with a wave of his hand.
“Well, it looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you, Sheriff,” he said, as Thomas took up his hat and prepared to leave.
“I’ll find them, sir,” he replied.
Thomas had no time for Mayor Gould and, as he stepped out into the street a few moments later, he shook his head in disbelief that a man like that should have found such an important position in the life of the town. Mayor Gould was nothing but a self-aggrandizing bureaucrat, with no understanding of how real life worked. He spent most of his time in the dining room of the Hotel Anaconda or with women of dubious repute in the saloon.
“Well, hey there, Sheriff,” a voice came from his right and, turning, Thomas came face to face with his half-brother.
Harrison had a smile on his face, that unpleasant grin which revealed too many of his teeth, over which his tongue now played.
“Harrison,” Thomas said, acknowledging his half-brother, though wishing for no further interaction with him.
He was tired and all he wanted was to go back to the sheriff’s office and catch up on his report writing, while mulling over the events of the day.
“I hear there’s been some trouble out at Bison Gully,” Harrison remarked, following Thomas across the street.
“And what business is that of yours?” Thomas replied, turning to his half-brother as he glanced up and down the street.
“Well, as the owner of Lampeter Ranch, it is entirely my business. I find myself concerned for the safety of my cattle and… those in my employ,” he said, the words hanging suggestively in the air.
“Do you mean, Aline?” Thomas said, and Harrison nodded.
“Oh… she’s perfectly safe with me, and only last night she told me just how much she admired you. I hear you’re going to teach her to ride. Be careful now, Sheriff, women from the east can be quite demanding,” Harrison replied.
He ambled off with his hands in his pocket, whistling snatches of a tune which Thomas recognized from back in the old days on the outlaw trail. He had such an air of confidence to him, and it made Thomas feel uneasy.
“And I bet he’s got Aline wrapped around his little finger,” he said to himself as his half-brother disappeared around the corner.
Chapter Fifteen
Aline sneezed as a cloud of dust rose up from the top of the cupboard she’d just reached up to clean.
“Oh my, I bet this hasn’t been swept in years,” she said, as she sneezed again.
That morning, she’d worked her way through the two rooms in the roof space above the parlor, which were filled with all manner of interesting things. It had taken her a while to get around to the dusting, for she kept stopping to examine old newspapers and log books from when the ranch was first built.
“A hundred head of cattle sold at auction,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief as she closed another musty old book.
Sammy was investigating one of the dark corners and he too sneezed, leaping back, as a mouse ran out from some old packing cases.
“Silly, Sammy, you’re supposed to catch them, not run away from them,” she said, laughing.
Sammy had been a pampered cat back home and he’d never lowered himself to chasing mice. That kind of task was for his feral cousins out on the streets, not for a well-groomed pedigree like him.
“You’ll have to learn. We’ve both got to learn a few new things out here,” Aline told him, feeling another sneeze coming on.
Just then, there came a knock at the door and she laid down her duster, grateful for an excuse to climb down from the pokey rooms to the parlor below.
“I’m just coming,” she called, lifting Sammy over her shoulder and balancing precariously on the ladder.
I must look quite a sight, she realized, taking off her apron and brushing herself down. Now, who could this be?
She opened the door and was delighted to find Sheriff Redmond on the veranda. He dipped his hat to her and Aline blushed, imagining what he must think of her disheveled state.
“Hey there, ready for a riding lesson?” he greeted, causing her to blush even further.
“Oh… that’s very kind of you. I fear I’ll be wasting your time though, Sheriff,” she said, but Thomas shook his head and laughed.
“Not at all, but if you’re busy…?” he said.
“No,” she cried, “no, I was just…” She trailed off when he pointed to her hair.
“You’ve got a mighty big cobweb on you,” he said, laughing, as he reached out to pull it off.
“I was just… dusting… and…” she began, feeling her face flush redder with embarrassment.
“All the more reason to ride out, we’ll blow those cobwebs away,” Thomas said, pointing to where Scout was tethered up across the yard.
Aline nodded. She was delighted to see Sheriff Redmond again so soon and she’d been hoping he’d call.
“I’ll just get my shawl,” she said, turning back into the parlor. “Now you stay here, Sammy, the sheriff and I are riding out.”
Sammy let out a long meow and ran out onto the veranda, where Aline smiled to see him slinking about the sheriff’s legs.
“I don’t know if I can teach a cat to ride, you might be enough of a challenge,” Thomas said.
“He sure likes you, Sheriff,” Aline replied, shooing Sammy back into the ranch house.
Together, the two of them made their way across to Scout, who suddenly looked ever so tall and imposing now that Aline was about to try and ride her.
“Now, the first thing is mounting. You can’t ride the horse until you’ve got on it,” Thomas said.
“Well that makes sense,” Aline replied, and he smiled.
“Let me show you, though of course a lady will ride side saddle at first. But the prairies aren’t meant for side saddle, and you’ll soon need to know how to ride like a rancher if you’re going to get anywhere,” Thomas said.
He took hold of Scout’s reins and hoisted himself up onto the horse’s back. It looked so easy, effortless even, and he turned himself side saddle and began cantering the horse about the ranch yard.
“You make it look so easy,” she called out.
“It is easy,” he said, riding back and coming to a halt a few yards from where she stood. “Now you try it.”
He led the horse to her and took hold of her hand, pointing to the reins and imitating the movement once again. Nervously, she followed his lead, taking the reins and placing her foot in the stirrup.
Her own attempt was entirely unladylike and she slipped back to the ground, laughing uncontrollably as Thomas shook his head.
“Oh, my, that’s much harder than you made it seem,” she said.
“You’ve just got to practice. Here, let’s try it a different way, forget side saddle,” he said, holding out his hand to her.
She took it, a slight shiver running through her, as he smiled and pointed to the stirrup.
“Like this?” she asked, and he nodded.
“Steady yourself on my hand, that’s it,” he said, and this time she found herself sat on Scout’s back, a triumphant look upon her face.
“It’s so high up here,” she admitted, not daring to move lest she slipped off again.
Scout stood patiently as she adjusted her position, and Thomas took hold of the reins and began to lead her around the ranch yard.
“You’ve got the hang of it now. Just keep your balance and you’ll be fine,” he said, as though it were as natural as walking.
“How old were you when you first got on a horse?” she asked, and Thomas smiled.
“Pretty young,” he said, “I’ve been around horses all my life, in one way or another.”
“Was it your father who taught you to ride?” she asked.
