Chapter XIII
The Bochart Ranch was one of the finest outfits in southern Colorado. Using the Purgatory River as a main water source, the Bocharts controlled range from Trinidad east to Springfield and south to the breaks of the Cimarron. Ransom Tabor had established the place after his mountain man days ended in the early 1840s. A man who had partnered with the likes of Kit Carson, the Bent Brothers, and Tom Tobin, Tabor carved an empire from a land that no one else wanted until he proved its value.
Tabor was thought of by many as a harsh man, and yet was known for his fairness and sense of justice. After his death while serving with Carson at the First Battle of Adobe Walls, the place went to his daughter, Augustina. Like so many men of his time, he had married a woman of Spanish heritage. Tragedy seemed to dog the man as he tried to build his empire. His first wife died in childbirth and his only daughter was struck with polio while still an infant. His second wife, a cousin of his first, died of the plague before any children were born. As badly as the man wanted a son, it was not to be. His parting words to his daughter, before leaving for service with Carson, were instructions to her that if he did not return, she was to marry a strong man who could hold on to the place and build it.
Augustina did not marry for a decade. With a strength of character and a ruthless nature that she had inherited from her father, the frail woman built and expanded the outfit until it was the envy of the Southwest. She forged together a group of loyal Mexican vaqueros and established herself as the only law east of Trinidad. When she did marry, she chose a man of stature, quite handsome in appearance, intelligent and strong. Under her guidance and his own desire, Logan Bochart became one of the most influential men in the area, quite a contrast to his origins of an itinerant cowboy. Bochart was often present at the center of political and social gatherings, but he was seldom seen with his wife. Augustina remained in the background, alone at the ranch.
When Bohanin, Tibbs and Lance topped the rise that overlooked the Purgatory and the Bochart headquarters, they beheld the sight of a group of buildings that looked as though they were designed for a southern plantation rather than a foothills cattle ranch. The dominant building was the mansion built by Augustina into the edge of the rise overlooking the barns and outbuildings. The complex was laced with newly planted cottonwoods and elms. A circular drive brought visitors to the front entrance. Augustina had modeled the place after the Antebellum South. Although it was from her Spanish heritage that she had built the ranch, it was white culture that she had chosen to build upon for an image.
As the men stepped down from their mounts, Mexican vaqueros met them. Recognizing Dawdrey Lance they stepped aside. A young Mexican woman answered the door, and after a brief explanation from Dawdrey, she allowed them entrance. The men waited in uncomfortable silence while Augustina prepared for her visitors. An expensive chandelier dominated the entry hall. Joe Tibbs was especially uncomfortable. After a few moments, he explained that he had never been in such a house. He thought the home looked more like a county court house than a place where people lived. Bohanin was equally impressed, although in a different way. Wealth meant power and this building stood for both. He silently questioned Dawdrey Lance's wisdom concerning a confrontation with Augustina. If Lance was wrong about the woman, it might prove difficult for the men to leave the ranch alive. He estimated at least fifty armed vaqueros and cowboys were within two hundred yards of the house.
The Mexican girl summoned the men into a sitting room that was adjacent to the entry hall. Augustina was much younger than Bohanin had imagined. She sat in a green plush Victorian chair and was dressed in an expensive dressing gown. Although frail and small-boned, the woman was a refined beauty. Her eyes were a deep glistening brown and her hair was raven black. She moved with a deliberate impeccable grace that spoke of generations of power and influence. Were it not for the fact that Bohanin knew that beneath her lovely gown were the twisted and deformed limbs of a body riddled from the effects of polio, she was the most strikingly beautiful woman he had ever seen. She spoke pleasantly as Dawdrey Lance introduced his companions and gave Bohanin an assertively intelligent inspection. Bohanin imagined a beautiful porcelain doll as he watched her. He beauty and fragility were obvious and yet there was a cold, almost lifeless expression in her face. She presented all types of contrasts between what he had heard and what he saw. If it were possible for Bohanin to fear a woman, this strangely beautiful yet complex creature presented the exact characteristics to make it so.
Dawdrey Lance left it to Bohanin to explain the reason for the visit. The young cowboy stood at the side of Bohanin, his eyes often fixed on the floor. Bohanin left nothing out.
Throughout the entire explanation, Augustina Bochart said nothing. On two occasions, as Bohanin related the tale, he noticed the tightening of her grip upon the arm of the chair. But otherwise she was dispassionate.
When Bohanin finished the story, the woman did not react immediately. Finally, after a kindly inspection of Dawdrey Lance, her eyes drifted to the face of Bohanin. She spoke with a sharp gaze into Bohanin's eyes.
“How much?” she asked.
“I'm afraid you misunderstand, Mrs. Bochart. We did not come here to blackmail you. We came here to inform you of the reason that we are riding against your husband.”
“No, Captain Bohanin,” she said calmly. “It is you who misunderstand. I am not asking how much it will cost me for you to spare his life. I want your figure for what it will cost to take it.”
“Gee-Hoss-a-Fat!” Joe Tibbs exclaimed.
Dawdrey Lance turned to the window. Bohanin straightened himself.
“Mrs. Bochart, we are not paid assassins. We are here to gain justice and the protection of the woman.”
A cruel smile came across Augustina's face. “Come now, sir. You have had great expense, both in life and property. My husband's crimes have cost you and the young woman dearly. Although the actions were his, I cannot help but feel some responsibility in the matter. If you name a figure I will gladly reimburse you. I know nothing of the young man from the Circle R, but I am privilege to other information that makes me believe that Logan ordered his execution. As far as the woman is concerned, you will forgive me if I do not feel too sorry for her. She chose her path. I am afraid that I have little sympathy for her circumstances. She is, if I may be frank, the last of a long line of women who have been involved with my husband. I have made excuses for his behavior, even blamed myself and my condition for his indiscretions. I am paying a price for my excuses and blame taking.”
Her features softened as she continued, “But you, sir, have conducted yourself with honor throughout this matter. I hope that I can rely on such gallantry as you have demonstrated should the occasion arise. You deserve something for your trouble and the certain danger that you are placing yourself in. Logan controls several men who are extremely loyal and your peril will be great. Mr. Tibbs' loyalty to his employer and friend is admirable and he too should be paid for his actions. As for my friend, Dawdrey, he is a good man with a just and kind heart. Few friends would have the courage to do what he has done for me this day.”
Dawdrey Lance turned but looked to the floor. “Thank you, ma'am.”
Bohanin shook his head. “No ma'am, I will not accept money from you. But I do intend to take Logan Bochart's life for what he has done.”
“Very admirable. I will not insult you with further conversation on the matter,” Augustina said. “You will find Logan on his precious west range, working cattle for a drive to market. Dawdrey knows the location. You may rest assured that the authorities will not be notified. This matter must be resolved in the manner that you described. If I were a man and capable of it, I would expect the same standards.”
Bohanin was uncertain of her for a moment. He had heard stories of Ransom Tabor and could see that much of the man lived on in his daughter.
“With your permission, Mrs. Bochart, we will take your leave.”
“Dawdrey, if I may have a few moments, I would like to speak to you privately,” Augustina said. Bohanin and Tibbs excused themselves.
Augustina smiled warmly. “I know this must be very hard for you. It was no secret that you admired the school teacher.”
“I haven't had an easy time with any of this.”
“And what are your plans?” she asked.
“I guess I'll just go on building my ranch.”
“There is not even eight years between our ages,” Augustina said. “It is not such a great difference between you and me. I believe you know that I have always been quite fond of you. I mean, I know that I am not as physically attractive as a woman should be. But, I am not the cold fish that Logan would have others believe. I am not incapable of having children, either. Logan and I have not had a marriage such as I wanted. I need a man to give me children and help build this place for them. You could be that man.”
Dawdrey was overcome with surprise. She had been more than generous with him from the beginning of their relationship. He had never imagined that the woman had such feelings for him.
“I know what you are thinking,” she said. “There have been many nights when I have been in my bed alone, wanting the touch of a man, the gift of children, thinking of you. Logan's betrayals and my isolation made me long for the only man that I have ever come to truly love. You are that man. If you could see past my condition. Love me as a whole woman. Give me children and I will give you everything in return. I am afraid you will waste your affections on another like you did with that whore in Springfield who called herself a teacher. If I am not forward, I may lose you.”
Dawdrey stared at Augustina as she spoke. He had always been attracted to her fragile beauty. He had been hurt as much by Logan's betrayal of her as his disappointment with Millie.
“I will come back here once I've finished with Logan,” he said. “I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't see that as a problem. You know I admire you greatly. We'd need to talk about this, give it some time. But, I would be proud to be your husband.”
Augustina smiled softly and held Dawdrey's hand. “There is much more to me than you imagine. I could give you pleasure beyond your dreams. I could be a good wife.”
Dawdrey was disturbed by her coldness toward Bochart. He nodded.
“I need to get going. When this is over, I'll be back. I promise,” he said.
“Let Captain Bohanin and Tibbs take the risks. I want you back in one piece. Please be careful,” Augustina said.
“I will. I'll be back. I promise.”
Augustina sat alone in the chair as she listened to Dawdrey leaving the house. She struggled to her feet using two canes that rested beside her chair. She watched Dawdrey join his companions.
Bohanin watched Dawdrey Lance as he joined them, absorbed in his thoughts.
“She must have said something that surprised you,” Bohanin said.
“She was thanking me for telling her the truth about Logan. I guess I never knew how she felt about me.”
“Strikes me as a mighty cold-blooded woman,” Joe Tibbs said as the three men rode for the rise.
“Why? Because she's had it with being lied to?” Dawdrey snapped.
“Hold on there, wrangler. I wasn't trying to get your goat,” Joe said. “I guess I sometimes shoot off my mouth when I should keep quiet.”
“No offense taken. I just don't think you understand her. That's all.”
“I'm sure I don't, partner. No hard feelings,” Joe Tibbs said as he cut his eyes to Bohanin.
Bohanin observed Dawdrey carefully. He considered what might have been said in the house. It was really none of his business. His concerns were with Logan Bochart.
Chapter XIV
I
The valley floor was a mass of mingling cattle, laboring cowboys, dirt, dust and smoke.
Logan Bochart shouted orders from the back of his horse as five hundred head of bawling cows were being separated from their calves. Six fires blazed as cowboys roped and dragged the spring calves in for branding. Ferocious longhorn bulls battled for dominance after their forced uniting in the low valley below the shadowy outlines of the southern Rockies.
Mack Stout and Reese Blanchart ran the center branding fire. As the mounted cowboys pulled in the calves, Mack threw the young beasts to their sides, castrated the bulls, and stretched them out for Reese's earmarking and hot iron. Both men were covered with sweat smeared dirt and blood.
Bochart rode past at regular intervals, urging them to work harder and criticizing any uneven brands or irregular earmarks. The men worked hard but as is the nature of most independent cowboys, seemed to be a little slower and a bit more sloppy after each of Bochart's admonishments.
“What the deuces is his problem?” Mack Stout said as Reese slapped iron on a mottled black and white heifer.
“I reckon he just likes the sound of his own voice this morning,” Reese said.
“I'd like to drag him down off that stallion and demonstrate a little earmarking,” Mack said as he freed the heifer from Diego Gonzales' lasso.
Diego smiled as he reeled in his lasso. “I think so maybe that Senor Bochart's pistolas would change you mind, hey hombre?”
Reese wiped his bloody knife against his chaps. “Go get another calf, Pepper. I don't appreciate your humor anymore than I need Bochart's bitching.”
Diego smiled good-naturedly as he wheeled his horse back toward the herd.
Reese and Mack waited for the next calf and watched the progress surrounding the other branding fires.
Mack saw the three riders resting their horses at the top of the ridge to the east. “Wonder where those three came from. You don't suppose Logan sent for some more hands?”
Reese squinted through sweat burning eyes. “They ain't from our outfit. Probably riders from the Circle R, checking for strays.”
“Damned if you ain't right,” Mack said. “That's ole Joe Tibbs' pinto coming down the ridge.”
“I wonder if Joe is shorthanded,” Reese said. “I'm about ready to throw in with another brand. If Bochart rags on me one more time, I think I'll just quit this sorry outfit.”
Bochart rode past the two as he galloped his stallion to confront the three riders. He held up his mount when he recognized Tibbs.
“We already separated Circle R stock and sent them back toward your range, Tibbs. I'm busy and don't need your bunch scattering through the herd.”
“I ain't here on Circle R business, Bochart. I've come on a private matter,” Tibbs said as the three held up their ponies.
“We got all the riders we can use. State your business and be on your way. I'm a busy man.”
Bohanin stepped down from his horse and adjusted his holster on his hip.
“Get down off your horse, Bochart.”
Bochart blinked and swallowed. “What's this all about?”
“It concerns the woman.”
Bochart paused for a moment as he remembered Bohanin from the boarding house in Springfield. “So she blabbed, did she?”
Bohanin nodded.
Bochart looped his reins around his saddle horn and stepped to the ground facing Bohanin.
“And you're here to set things aright, huh hero?”
“There's a lot of things that need settling,” Tibbs said as he drew his Winchester and pointed it in the general direction of several of Bochart's riders .
“And I suppose you're here because of the woman as well, Lance,” Bochart said.
Lance nodded and edged his hand toward his Smith & Wesson. “I'm here to keep things even. I guess we're getting ready to get in line for you.”
“I told her to keep quiet. I told her what would happen if she didn't. I tend to keep my promises. You boys gonna go at me one at a time or gun me down as a pack?”
“You're my pigeon. If I go down, it'll be someone else's turn,” Bohanin said.
Bochart nodded. “Comforting. I appreciate the fair play.”
“More than you deserve,” Bohanin answered.
“You go to hell. I figure three graves is just as easy to manage as one.”
The two men stood for several seconds at thirty feet. The Bochart riders waited and listened in confused fascination. Bochart drew first. His revolver was clear and his first shot sounded before Bohanin could get his Colt from his holster. Bochart's bullet cut a channel across the top of Bohanin's left shoulder. Blood and fabric exploded into the air. Both guns fired an instant later as Bohanin cleared leather and got off his shot.
Bohanin stepped backward as the second bullet drilled into his upper left thigh.
Bochart dropped his revolver and clutched at the bullet hole in his chest. He sat down in the dirt and examined the wound.
Bohanin limped forward, his smoking Colt raised.
“I'd a thought the money would have satisfied her,” Bochart said as he watched Bohanin's progress.
“This weren't for that and you know it,” Bohanin answered.
“Then what the hell was it for?”
“For the ambush.”
Bochart shook his head and opened his eyes wide. “What ambush?”
Reese Blanchart and Mack Stout approached to see if they could give the man any aid.
“Damn it. Don't play ignorant now,” Bohanin said. “You sent Starbuck and Nobel to kill the woman and me.”
As Blanchart knelt beside Bochart and examined the wound, Bochart lowered his hand and chuckled softly. “You damned fool, I never sent those guys for anyone.”
Bohanin shook in frustration. “What the hell are you trying to feed me? I saw you ordering those men to kill her. I heard what you told her at the boarding house.”
“Those men ride for Augustina. I ain't got nothing to say about what they do,” Bochart said as he stretched out onto the ground.
“What about what I saw on the street?” Bohanin asked as he stepped to Bochart's side.
Bochart focused his eyes on Bohanin. “They were following me. Augustina always has at least one of them keeping track of me. Hell, I was feeding them a line about school board business to get them off my case.”
“That's a damned lie,” Bohanin said.
“Fraid not,” Reese said. “Ask anyone in the outfit. Starbuck, Nobel and Espironsa are Mrs. Bochart's men. They do her business and got nothing to do with the rest of the crew.”
“What about Tim Stevens?” Joe Tibbs asked from his saddle. “You telling me you had nothing to do with that either?”
Bochart gasped for air and choked, “Who the hell is Tim Stevens?”
Bohanin holstered his Colt and struggled to kneel beside Bochart. “You didn't order the death of Millie? You didn't change your mind when it was too late and try to call Starbuck back?”
“Why would I do that? I loved the woman. I just wanted her to leave me in peace so Augustina wouldn't find out.”
Bohanin sat in the dirt beside Bochart.
“My Lord, what have I done?” he said softly.
“One thing for certain,” Reese Blanchart said. “You've killed Logan Bochart. He's dead as a stone.”
Dawdrey Lance stepped down from his mount and walked grimly toward Bohanin. Joe Tibbs shook his head and replaced his Winchester in his saddle scabbard. The Bochart riders waited in silence.
Dawdrey helped Bohanin to his feet. He was bleeding badly from his thigh.
“I need to get you back to my place pronto,” Dawdrey said quietly. “We got to get that bullet out and close that wound.”
Bohanin nodded and accepted Lance's aid as he made his way toward his gelding.
“I suppose I need to talk to the sheriff about this,” Reese Blanchart said. “The hell of it is, Bochart drew first.”
“Anyone know the whereabouts of Espironsa?” Tibbs asked.
“He was with Mrs. Bochart when last I saw,” Mack Stout said. “He's never very far from her side.”
Bohanin stared at Tibbs. “Did I tell her where Millie was?” he asked.
Tibbs nodded. “Sure did. You told her the town and the doctor's name.”
“Someone's got to ride for Hasty. If she sent Espironsa after Millie, someone's got to warn them,” Bohanin said.
Tibbs sighed and shook his head. “Looks like my job. I just don't know if I can make it in time. That Mex has at least a twelve hour lead on me.”
“You've got to try, Joe,” Dawdrey said as he helped Bohanin into the saddle. “You're the only one with a chance.”
Tibbs wheeled his horse toward the north. “I'll see you at your place, Dawdrey. I'll do the best I can. I just don't think I can make it in time.”
“Try, Joe. Do your best,” Bohanin shouted as Tibbs rode away.
Dawdrey Lance mounted and slowly led Bohanin towards his ranch.
The Bochart crew watched as they made their way to the top of the rise. Finally, Reese Blanchart motioned for Diego.
“You best make tracks for the house, Diego. Someone needs to tell Mrs. Bochart about this. It'll go down better coming from you.”
“What'll we do?” Mack Stout asked.
“Brand calves, I guess. I'll take Bochart back to the house and tell what happened. You fellers might as well go on with the work. Whatever the hell went on between those men, is for the law to decide. It didn't sound to me like Bochart was ignorant of the deal. I got the impression he deserved what he got. It was a fair fight.”
Mack Stout started back toward the branding fire. “We sure as hell ain't gonna have to put up with Bochart's ragging on us anymore today.”
Blanchart smiled. “Yeah, I guess you're right about that. Hell, this may not be too bad an outfit for a while,” he said grimly.
II
Doctor Ball lowered his newspaper as he heard the knock. Mrs. Ball placed her knitting in her lap and glanced toward the door.
“I wonder who that might be?” Ball asked rising from his chair.
“Someone's probably had an accident,” Mrs. Ball said.
Sergio Espironsa filled the doorway, his hat in his hands.
“What can I do for you?” Ball asked.
“I am here to check on the progress of the senorita,” Espironsa answered.
“Come in,” Ball said. “Who sent you? That Bohanin feller?”
Espironsa nodded as he entered the room. “Si. I am to check on her and see that she is well.”
“Where's Captain Bohanin?” Ball asked.
“He is coming in a few days. He sent me to make sure that she is in good health.”
“I don't know what to say. I wish he had come instead of someone else.”
“Is something not well?” Espironsa asked.
“She's gone,” Ball said, “I tried to convince her that it was way too early for her to leave. But she wouldn't listen. She took off in the buggy yesterday, against all my advice.”
“I do not believe you, senor,”
“I don't care if you believe me or not. She's gone and that's all there is to it.”
Espironsa started for the doorway leading to the bedrooms.
“I will see for myself.”
“You will not. That is my home and you've no right to go in there,” Ball shouted.
Espironsa snatched the front of Ball's shirt and jerked him forward, drawing his knife with the same movement. Espironsa slammed Ball against the wall placing the knife against his throat.
“I will see this thing for myself, senor.” Espironsa increased the pressure of the knife blade against the doctor's jugular.
“You bastard. My wife's in there. You lay a hand on her and I swear I'll kill you.”
“I have no interest in your woman, senor. But I will see for myself about the other one. Either I go, or you die and I go.”
Ball slowly nodded, his body shaking with anger.
Espironsa slowly released his grip and withdrew his knife. “If you move one inch, I will kill you and your woman.”
“Go, you bastard. Check for yourself.”
Espironsa opened the door.
Mrs. Ball thumbed back the hammers on her husband's shotgun. “You get out of here or I swear, I'll kill you,” she said.
Espironsa blinked in recognition of the two hollow tubes of the shotgun staring toward him.
“I said for you to get out of my house,” the woman said as she slightly raised the bores of the shotgun. She was trembling with fear but her face was etched with determination.
Espironsa slid his knife into his sheath. “Careful, senora. I will go as you say.”
“Then get,” Mrs. Ball ordered.
Espironsa cautiously backed toward the door, keeping his eyes on the shotgun and the woman. Mrs. Ball followed, tears streaming down her face. When Espironsa reached the door, he reached back and opened it without taking his eyes off her. He nodded grimly and disappeared into the darkness, closing the door behind him.
Mrs. Ball did not move. Doc Ball took the gun from her.
“I think he is gone, Rachel,” he said.
The woman shook her head. “Someone's got to check.”
Ball stepped toward the door. “Step back to the bedroom. I want you clear of the door when I open it.”
Rachel Ball backed toward the door. “Be careful, Andy. He's probably waiting there in the dark.”
Doc Ball nodded as he opened the door. He waited for a second before stepping into the darkness.
Rachel Ball waited for any sound of what was happening.
Ball stepped back into the office. “He's gone. There's no sign of him.”
“Are you certain?” she asked.
Ball closed the door and locked it. “I'm sure.”
A moment later she broke into tears. Ball held her in his arms. She shook as she wept. For years afterward, he would tell the story of the night when his wife had marched the Mexican from their home at the point of a gun. He would tell his children and grandchildren of his wife's bravery. It would become the favorite story of his practice in frontier Colorado.