Authors: Cherie Shaw
Beckford chuckled, then mused, “Well, I suppose the
stage will be late today too because of the weather. It wouldn’t be feasible
to travel in this weather for any reason.”
Just then the outside door opened to let in more
rainwater, and with a burst, Bart McCain, the older cowhand, friend of Cougar
Olson, stepped hurriedly inside the room, wearing a wet enough slicker, though
dripping more water onto the floor from his hat brim.
After hanging up the wet slicker and hat, Bart McCain
scanned the room, and seeing Logan and Ricardo, along with Beckford, and noting
the huge one with the bushy auburn beard, he approached their table.
After being introduced to Garth, McCain shook hands all
around, then pulled up a chair from an empty table, and proceeded to speak in
hushed tones. “Olson and that ranger fella rode on into the ranch, in the
middle of the night last night. I just happened to be on hand, bein’ as I was
lined up for ridin’ fence today, but it seemed those two were up to something,
so me, I just lent an ear to what they had to tell. Guess you might say, I was
plumb interested, so they clued me in on most everything.
“Now, Beckford, I feel most regretful if I, in any
way, had a part in wrong doin’. I surely had no idea that Perkins wasn’t the
rightful owner of that spread. An’ here I been drivin’ steers to the rails now
an’ again, and takin’ the bank drafts to him for the sales of them cattle.
Proud I was that I was bein’ trusted like that, an’ here he’s the crooked one.
Now that money should have been yours, an’ he’s livin’ high off it.
“If you want I should take it ‘outta’ his hide, sir,
just you say the word. Why me an’ Olson would be right proud to help you in
any way we can.”
Beckford waved his hand, and shook his white head, as
he said, “I appreciate your honesty McCain, but there is no way I could fault
you or any of the other honest hands for only doing your jobs as you saw fit.
I am glad to know that you boys will stand by us as we recover my property.
That’s all anyone could ask.
“And as for the sales of the cattle, I’m not worried
about a few steers. You boys had no idea what was going on, and were not at
fault.” Beckford then asked, “Now, how in the world did you manage to get to
town from the ranch in this weather?”
“Well sir,” McCain answered, “It wasn’t easy. But I
knew that it had to be done, and us cowhands sometimes don’t think ahead, we
just plow in an’ get it done. Mostly I kept to high ground, avoiding the trail
where it was washed out, then when we had to, me an’ that horse we just up an’
started swimmin’ the rest of the way. That mustang’s in a dry stall right now
in the livery stable, filling his belly up with oats. He sure earned ‘em.
“Olson an’ Welby, they’re stayin’ at the bunkhouse,
an’ swore to Holderman that if he sent them back out in this weather, they’d up
an’ quit, so bein’ as that’d make ‘em shorthanded, Holderman backed down, an’
told ‘em to get some sleep. Now Perkins and Holderman were holed up in the big
house, when I took off an’ slipped out of there in the rain. Don’t think they
saw me ride off.”
Logan
asked, “How
about some of the other hands, McCain? How do they feel?”
“No worry there. Most of ‘em anyhow.” McCain leaned
back in his chair and accepted the coffee that Dolly served him, when she moved
away, he added, “Most of the hands are out on the range, though probably holed
up in line shacks here and there right now. Four others were in the bunkhouse,
an’ they swore they’d surely welcome a change around there, so if Perkins
thinks they’ll back ‘im, well then he’s another think comin’.
“Those boys will stand off, ‘til you take over your
property.” He chuckled then, “We even roused Hank, the cook, from his bed,
then after he was done a’cussin’ up a storm, from bein’ woke up in the middle
of the night, he realized what was goin’ on, then he just up an’ laughed his
head off, then fired up the cookstove in the kitchen, an’ made up a big pot of
coffee for us all.
“He said he sure liked the original owner of the spread,
his name was a Beckford too, Sam Beckford, your kin Hank reckoned, an’ said he
couldn’t wait to meet you an’ tell you all about the old days of fightin’
injuns an’ rustlers right alongside ol’ Beckford. So he’ll stand. Hanks’s
solid all the way.
“Chester Burns, now he’s that assistant ramrod, he just
come a’stompin’ into the kitchen wantin’ to know what was goin’ on, an’ Hank,
he just looks at ‘im, an’ says, ‘Drinkin’ coffee. You want a cup?’ Burns, he
just stomps back out the door, an’ headed back to that room of his behind the
stable. Not sure where he’d stand, so we said nothin’. He’s one ornery cuss,
whether or not he knows what’s goin’ on or not remains to be seen. Well, after
coffee, I just saddled up that mustang, an’ slipped out of there.”
McCain stopped talking long enough to take a deep
breath, then drink some of the hot coffee Dolly had put before him, then he
remembered, “Oh yes, that ranger fella, Welby, he said that if I made it here
all in one piece, to tell you all not to go out in this weather, an’ to just
hole up here. Wait it out. They’ll stay at the ranch, no matter what. Me,
I’m gonna get me a room here an’ sleep for two days straight, or until you need
me.”
Just then Dolly brought in a heaping plate of hot
food, and set it before McCain, saying, “Eat up cowhand. It’ll be good for
your old bones.”
McCain grinned at her, “Dolly sweetheart, you been
tellin’ me that for twenty years now, an’ my ol’ bones still ache.”
“Well, it’s no wonder they ache, the way you wander
around the country in all kinds of weather.” She retorted, as she walked away.
Ricardo stood, sliding back his chair.” Well, amigos.”
He said, “Maria and Olivia wanted to go to the mercantile, even in weather such
as this. I will see if I can talk them out of it. If not, I shall escort
them. Your niece, sir,” he said to Beckford, “she wishes to shop, but my
Maria, she only goes to the mercantile to antagonize the señora Lulu.”
Laughing, he donned his hat, and walked over to the door leading into the hotel
lobby.
Garth raised an eyebrow, and asked, “What was that all
about? And my sister apparently has a new hobby. Shopping? That isn’t the
Olivia I used to know.”
“There is much, nephew, which you have missed out on
in these last years, and speaking of missing out on something, weren’t you
supposed to take your wife a tray of food?” Beckford asked.
Remembering, Garth immediately ordered a tray to be
prepared, thinking of the tongue-lashing he would get for taking so long.
Logan
was thinking of Olivia,
and he began making his own plans for the day, his green eyes becoming dreamy.
First of all, as soon as he was sure that Ricardo had escorted the two ladies
to the mercantile, he was going to slip outside, unnoticed, and, rain or shine,
he was going to cut the fullest, brightest red rose off the front rose bush,
he’d seen blooming in the yard, just inside the front fence. Then he was going
to go upstairs, and tie the red rose with a small strip of rawhide, to the door
handle of Olivia’s room.
He wondered if, when she returned to her room, she’d
know who had put the rose there, and what would her uncle think? Logan was, at times, too bullheaded to stop and care. A while later, he had his chance,
and took care of the issue at hand, and proud of his accomplishment, he walked
quickly down the hall, but as he stepped away from her door, he didn’t see Lord
Beckford slipping back into his room smiling, after watching the whole
process. This vacation was beginning to become interesting.
Thankfully there was a hanging roof over the board
walk in front of the mercantile, and Olivia was able to close the umbrella she
had shared with Maria, then after shaking the water off of it, she followed
Maria into the store, as Ricardo who was now soaked to the skin, held open the
door.
Several men lounging in front of the store on the
boardwalk, but under the overhang, watching the rain come down, also watched
Olivia and Maria as they entered the store, even after a scowl from Ricardo.
They still looked. It wasn’t often they saw ladies so attractive as these.
Even though Maria was in her forties, she still held her youthful beauty well,
keeping Ricardo ever alert to other men’s glances in his wife’s direction.
Logan
was back
in his hotel room, when there was a light tap on his door, and when he opened
it he was handed a wire by the desk clerk, who told him that he had received
the reply to a wire Logan had sent, and he figured he’d want to see it right
away.
Logan
thanked the
clerk, handed him a two-bit piece, and after closing the door, sat down to read
the message:
SON,
GLAD TO
HEAR FROM YOU. WE WORRY BUT TRY NOT TO. MA SAYS SHE’LL EXPECT YOU WHEN YOU
GET HERE, NOT UNTIL. SURE IS TAKING YOU A LONG TIME TO COME HOME. YOUR THREE FRIENDS
ARE HERE WORKING FOR ME. GOOD MEN. THEY NEEDED A BIT OF FATTENING UP THOUGH.
WE’RE WORKING ON THAT.
LOVE,
PA
Logan
held onto the
wire and re-read it several times before putting it in his shirt pocket,
suddenly missing his parents and home, more than he had allowed himself to in
several years. Somehow his thoughts again turned to Olivia, and he wondered
how she would like the vast broken hills of Wyoming, the sunsets, the windswept
prairie, and the glistening wet coats of wild mustangs after a sudden rain. He
then shook his head to rid himself of mindless dreams. She was not for him,
and once again he tried to make himself believe that fact, and wondered what he
had done, leaving a rose on her door.
<><><>
Clara Wilkens, owner of the Coyote Springs mercantile,
and Lulu’s sister, having sufficiently recovered from her recent illness, now
stood behind the counter, though Lulu was nowhere in sight, as Maria made her
way to the cluttered counter, which was laden with varieties of merchandise:
jars of peppermint sticks, small bags of tobacco, corncob pipes on a display
rack, several baskets of fresh fruit, and other last minute needs, along with
medicinal remedies for stomach ailments.
“Señora,” Maria began, in her well-practiced accent,
of which she could assume at will, “Could I believe you to be Señora Lulu
Haskell’s sister, and owner of this wonderful establishment?”
The petite Mrs. Wilkins, with the streaks of gray
enhancing her drab hair color, and the large flashing brown eyes, answered,
“Why of course, and you would be the Señora Maria Cortez. My sister has spoken
often of you, and of your lovely friend, Olivia Worthington.
“Lulu tells me you have shared many colorful stories
of your cooking experiences from around the continents, especially prize
recipes from south of the border.”
“Si, Señora,” Maria answered, “but please do not tell
me that Lulu is ill now also, although I am so pleased to meet you, her
sister.”
“Thank you, pleased to meet you also, but no, my
sister is not ill, quite the opposite,” she answered, “she is visiting with a
guest, a gentleman caller, in the small parlor in the back of the store.
Someone she has recently met and I felt that since she has been such a help to me
that she deserves some time off now that I am back on my feet.” She continued,
“By the way, my name is Clara Wilkins and I would be honored if you would just
call me Clara.”
“Si, Señora Clara. I will finish my shopping now, and
you may tell your sister that I inquired about her. And when next I see her, I
shall give her yet another favorite recipe of mine, of which there are endless
supplies.” Maria stated.
Clara answered, “Of course Maria, and I am sure Lulu
will be most pleased to hear that. I only hope that Lulu’s guest will take
the time to better acquaint himself with my sister though. I wouldn’t want her
to make another mistake in a hasty marriage. She always weds in haste, and
repents in leisure, as the old saying goes. But then I shouldn’t be quick to
judge, her happiness is always the most important thing to me.”
She thought a moment, and then continued, “Not a day
goes by that I don’t miss my late husband, but then we had a wonderful
marriage. My sister, on the other hand, has had such bad luck with husbands,
and I constantly advise her not to be so impulsive…….but then I am keeping you
from your shopping.”