The Traherns #1 (16 page)

Dawn showed me what she’d purchased for herself, a notebook and
a pencil, her eyes shinning like she’d found gold. And in a way, she had.

Bennett offered me some whiskey, but I wasn’t about to make
John’s mistake. I doubted it was stronger than what our mountain stills
offered, but I said, “No thanks.” I had a lady to care for and a man who’s
addled his brain with liquor can’t even care for himself.

 We all went to the house next door to eat.

The lady there—the storekeeper’s wife—put out food,
and she had two beds available that Mabel and Dawn took. I put Dawn’s and
Mabel’s bags in their rooms, then washed up to eat.

I checked the horses, then walked over to the house. The
storekeeper locked his store and walked over to join me. “Is this the store
that was robbed?” I asked him.

“Yes. There are no banks around, so some money was kept here.
That gent held me up, then skedaddled with the money. Trouble for him was the
Lazy M foreman came in for supplies just a few minutes later, and took off
after him. They had a race up the road, with the thief’s horse being faster.
But it was dropping in its tracks when he reached Mabel’s place. Her husband,
Harold, was out at the barn when the thief rode up and shot him when he refused
to give him his horse. Then Marianne shot at the thief. He grabbed the horse
and lit out.

“We are ready to fight off the Indians when they come raiding.
We just have to remember some people are bad and some are good, no matter what
they look like.”

We entered the house together. The storekeeper’s wife, Dawn, and
Mabel were having a fine old visit.

Bennett looked at me and motioned me back outside.

“Three women in one kitchen,” he said. “Now that’s what I call a
crowd. They won’t want our help.” He pulled up a rocking chair and I tilted
back a cane chair and we set there like long lost friends.

He pulled out a pipe, tamped it down and lit it. “Heard tell they
almost hung you.”

“Yes. I had to do some fast talking, with that kid shaking out
his loop.”

“That George, he’s got no more sense than a goose. Mabel won’t
let him have a handgun. He knows how to shoot it, but she figures he needs to
stick to a rifle until he learns a little respect. Fellow carrying a handgun
had better be able to use it. And to know when he needs to stay quiet and leave
the scene.”

I nodded. He seemed to be holding the conversation right well,
without any help from me, so I sat quiet.

“She’s afraid his big mouth will get him killed before he has a
chance to learn to shut it.”

“Have you been here long,” I asked, when he seemed like he was
going to go quiet on me.

“We came just before the big Injun raid at Elk Creek. I think my
wife would’ve packed up and gone if’n we hadn’t of already been settin’ well on
this place.”

“Were you here when Dawn returned?”

“Ah, yes. There was a big to do about that. She was a quiet
thing, standing there with those big blue eyes of hers, trying to figure out
what was going on. I think she thought she’d been kidnapped again, only this
time by the soldiers.”

“It must have been hard on her.”

“Cummings didn’t help. It about destroyed him when he lost her
the first time. His wife hadn’t wanted to come west. When she lost Marianne,
she went a little crazy. Blamed him. Never was in good health after that.

“When Marianne returned, he wanted her to become his little girl
again. She couldn’t, and I know he beat her to try to force her into accepting
his ways. Mabel stepped in and took her away from him for days on end, helping
Marianne understand what was happening. She could barely speak any English. She
would go off into what James called an ‘Indian stare’ that drove him furious. I
expect because it shut him out. He didn’t like bein’ shut out by his own
daughter.”

“He still gives her a hard time,” I said.

“Yes. He’s a hard man, which is what you need in this land. But
he doesn’t understand his daughter.”

Dawn poked her head out the door. “Supper’s ready.”

We went in to eat, and man was that there food good.

We needed to get an early start, so we all turned in. I threw my
bedroll out by the horses and slept under the stars.

Next morning we loaded the food items and I helped Mabel climb
onto her buckboard. It was hard for her and I wondered at what she’d do if
something happened.

“Do you live out Dawn’s way?” I asked her.

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t we escort you home? Dawn can ride with you and
I’ll drive our two learners.”

Those horses had not wanted the harnesses put back on and
Bennett had had to hold them by the ears while I got them strapped up.

“Good idea,” he said. “Mabel, you drive ahead with Dawn. By the
time you reach your place, these two will have had all the orneriness plumb
tuckered out of them.”

It worked out well. Those two pie-biters didn’t like how heavy
the buckboard had become. They wanted to see how fast they could dump it, but
with Mabel’s team ahead of them they didn’t have much room to do anything. I
had Hero running loose beside the buckboard in case I had to chase them down,
and I kept their noses pretty much stuck to the back of the other wagon.

Dawn watched me worriedly for a bit, then fell to visiting with
Mabel.

By the time we stopped for lunch, those horses acted like they’d
never done anything else except pull a wagon.

Mabel said we’d no need to see her all the way home, but I said
I’d like to see her place. She was proud of it, but when we pulled into the
yard I could see that a man wasn’t there.

While our horses rested, I helped Mabel unharness and carry in
her supplies. Then I cut a pile of wood. Hopefully George could swing an axe.

We stayed two hours while I did some of the things a man does to
keep a place in top shape, then we put those horses to the trail again. It took
longer, as we had to return to the fork in the road, then head back up towards
Cummings’ place. It was lovely, trotting along as the evening shadows grew
longer and twilight fell. My world had never included a woman in it, but all of
a sudden I was thinking of it and thinking hard.

I wondered, if I put my arm around her, what would she do?

I kept it straight to my side for the longest time. Then she
said something like she was right tired and leaned against me. I flung my arm
around her to steady her and we travelled that way all the way to the ranch.

It was dark by the time we got there and she pulled herself away
and sat up straight as we trotted into the yard. I’d gotten used to her being
up against me with my arm around her. I really didn’t want to let go.

Lewis and John came out as we pulled up.

“This is a right good team, John,” I said. “They’re willing.”

“Yes,” Dawn added. “It was so thoughtful of you to care for my
safety.”

Lewis unloaded and John
unhooked the team and led them away. Neither one said a word.

The next week, right around sundown, James Cummings arrived back
at the ranch with three men and the kid.

George strutted up to me, all full of importance. “He’s dead. We
hang murderers and horse thieves in this part of the country. Uncle Jim decided
not to take him all the way to Fort Smith and have to stay around for a trial
and all. So we found us a handy tree and we’uns took care of him.”

Horse thief.
I wondered what he’d do if I told him I had stolen Hero? He’d
probably shake out his rope right then.

I wasn’t proud of what I’d done, but I was looking for a quick
escape and took it. Could it be different during wartime? You shot men, you
took horses. It really wasn’t considered theft during wartime, but it bothered
me anyway. Maybe because it was my cousin’s horse. He placed a great deal of
stock in his horses and I couldn’t see him letting go of one easily. Not one
like Hero. He might be hunting me even now.

James Cummings looked at the corral fence that I had raised in
height until it was almost double. It was the first thing I’d done. “What’s
that for?” he asked.

“My stallion. He’s got his eye on one of your mares, and I’m
trying to keep him in.”

“He can’t jump that, can he?” he asked in disbelief. “I don’t
even know of a mule that could clear that.”

“I don’t know. I’m hopin’ not. I’d rather be overly cautious
with him.”

He handed his horse to Lewis and headed for the ranch house, his
spurs dragging in the dust. Dawn was standing there and he shoved her aside.
I’d never seen such a change in a person. She shrunk into herself, her eyes
dulled and her body slumped.

“Have you had a chance to look at the books?” he asked me, as I
followed him in.

“Yes. Do you have an account with the bank at Ft Worth?”

“No.”

I stopped walking. “Then your bookkeeper was stealing from you.”

He spun around, looked at me in astonishment. “What? Elmer? He
wouldn’t dare.”

“He did. He’s been sending a small amount of money into this
bank account, looks like for years. None ever came out, which is why I wondered
about it. He probably saw your leaving as an opportunity to cash in. If you had
gone on to Ft. Smith, gone through a trial, then come back, found him gone,
looked for another bookkeeper, hired him, and just then found out about Elmer,
he would’ve been long gone to South America or Europe. The way it is, he’s
probably only halfway to Ft. Worth. A fast rider should be able to get there
ahead of him.”

“How much did he take?’”

“Twenty thousand dollars.”

Cummings went white. “How fast is that horse of yours?”

“Fast.”

“Get him ready. I’ll write you a letter to take to the Rangers
at Ft. Worth. They can either stop him from taking the money out, or catch him
if he does. I’ll be riding behind you, and will back you up as soon as I get
there.”

“Bring your books with you,” I said. “I made check marks in
them, nothing else, so the books are all in his writing.”

“Good idea.” He stepped back onto the porch. “Brandy, get me a
fresh horse. That line back dun you usually ride.” Cummings ran into the house,
all fired up. “Marianne!” he yelled. “Get some food and water ready, for me and
Matthew. Move it, woman.”

She scurried away like a frightened mouse. This wasn’t right.
Dawn flinched when Cummings spoke to her. She reminded me of a horse which had
been beaten around the head, so that it had become head shy. All the confidence
vanished as soon as he arrived.

Not my problem
,
I told myself, but wasn’t very good at making me believe it.

I grabbed my saddlebags and moccasins, rolled up a blanket, then
took them with my guns and ammo to the barn. I saddled Hero, taking extra care
to make sure the hair was lying in the right direction and the saddle blanket
was smooth. I went to where Cummings kept his grain and filled a small bag and
tied it to the saddle.

The man he’d called Brandy had Cummings’ horse saddled ahead of
me, ready to go and at the doorway of the house. I led Hero to the water trough
and gave him his head.

Hero, that military campaigner, knew urgency when he felt it. He
drank and he drank deeply. I had grabbed two extra canteens and I filled them
so I could give him water as we went.

Cummings’ horse was dancing all over the ground, like water on a
hot fry pan, using up energy, while Hero stood there like an elderly statesman.
Cummings came outside with the books in his hand, followed by Dawn. She handed
me two filled canteens and a packet of food, which I put in my saddlebags. She
ran back and picked up a second group of supplies which she handed to her
father. He had already mounted and shouted impatiently at her. “Hurry up! Don’t
take all day. Go get me a blanket for sleeping in.”

I thought she was moving right fast.

“What does this Elmer look like?” I asked, to take his mind off
her speed or lack of it. “I need to know to describe him to the Rangers.”

“He’s short, bald, with a beard that never amounted to much of
anything. And fat. He weren’t that way when he come here, but he’s that way
now.”

“And he always wears a black cap and a dark blue vest,” added
one of the hands.

“And he can’t ride worth beans,” added another, as Cummings
handed me the paper to the Rangers telling what had happened.

“All right,” I said, folding that paper and putting it carefully
in my pocket. I mounted and put Hero into his mile-eating trot. He must have
had some Morgan in him, because most horses had to gallop to keep up to his
trot. He could keep at it all day and into the night.

After a bit, Cummings galloped up. He pulled to a slow canter.
“Git going.”

“Sir, Hero can travel all day at this speed. I could run him,
but no horse alive can run from here to Ft. Worth.”

He swore and took off and I passed him about six miles on down
the road, his horse lathered and steaming and in a bad way. I stopped long
enough to tell him to take his time, I’d get the Rangers to hold Elmer until he
got there.

Near the end of the second day, the trail dipped into a deep
gully that had a tiny trickle of a stream running down the bottom of it.

I rode Hero into it and dismounted, letting him drink while I
filled my canteens upstream from him. It was good water, not red or brackish,
and sure tasted great. I hunkered down and watched the fish that flashed in the
deeper holes. It was a tiny stream, but the presence of the fish told me that
it was a stream to count on, not intermittent like so many streams I’d come to
that were waterless at the time.

Not quite sunset, but if I made camp here, we could get fresh
water before we started in the morning.

I threw up the stirrup to loosen the cinch, stepping back when
Hero’s head came up and he spun around to look upstream, his ears pricked
forward.

He trembled and stamped his feet, so instead of taking that
saddle off, I flipped the stirrup back down and mounted.

As soon as I put one foot in the stirrup he was off, scrambling
up the side of that gulch like he had hornets under his tail. I grabbed the
horn and hung on while I got my foot over and into the off side stirrup.

Indians?

Hero wasn’t the only animal high-tailing it out of that gulch. A
lynx ran right underneath his hooves, headed for the ridge. Several jacks ran
with it, and the quail were flying out of the gulch like they’d been flushed.

When we reached higher ground, I pulled Hero to a stop to look
around. He didn’t like it much, just kept moving sideways and up the slope away
from the gulch.

Then I could hear it. A boom, like a cannon being shot. Then
another one. Then another. Louder and louder as it got closer.

Hero was used to cannons. He didn’t tremble when they went off.
It had me right puzzled.

“What? Hold on, Hero. What is it?”

Then I saw it. A wall of water crashing down that gulch. Too much
water for the gulch to hold, so it was flowing out over the sides. The top was
traveling faster than the bottom, and it had reared itself up higher than the
huge ocean waves I’d seen off the coast of the Carolinas.

It swept through that gulch like a woman cleaning a dish,
booming each time it hit a slight curve because it was trying to go straight.
Some water splashed up around Hero’s feet as I let him bound up to the ridge
top.

I made a little note to myself not to sleep in any dry gulches
along the way. These Texas streambeds didn’t stay dry, although there hadn’t
been a drop of rain where I was. It was something Dawn had forgotten to mention
when she was talking about the land. Probably thought it was something everyone
knew.

“You’d think I was a pilgrim, to almost get caught by that,” I
told Hero. “And I guess I still am when it comes to desert country. Thanks,
pal.”

I continued on my way, running almost immediately into another
stream running a banker.

“Well, I’d planned to camp near that other stream, so we’ll just
settle down here for the night. I’m not trying to cross that torrent with you,
Hero, money or no money.” It might give Elmer more time, but I wasn’t killing
me or my horse with foolishness.

I picked a level area, took off my saddle and started a small
fire near to a pile of dried out driftwood. I looked that wood over and
realized it had been brought downstream by an even larger flood. There was a
line of it, marking the edge of the highest water.

Luckily I had picked a spot uphill of the wood. Otherwise I
would’ve moved camp.

I gave Hero some grain and ate some of the tucker that Dawn had
put together for me. Right tasty, it was.

I checked for snake holes, beating the area where I wanted to
put my blanket. Satisfied that I wasn’t sharing my site, I rolled up in my
blanket and looked at the stars. It was just after eight o’clock, the dipper
having swung around its handle like an enormous hand on a clock running
counterclockwise.