Authors: Cherie Shaw
The bystanders didn’t snicker. They all laughed out
loud, and Henry stayed inside the stage the whole time the team was being
switched out with fresh horses. When the stage pulled out, only two other
passengers had climbed aboard, an older couple with the woman carrying an
umbrella across her lap.
Olivia snickered, as she handed Amelia’s packages back
to her, in front of the hotel. “Really, Amelia.” She said, “Really.”
<><><>
Sheriff Paul Denton, his fishing trip postponed for
the present, sat with his back to a wall, facing the doorway of Hank Chavez’s
kitchen, at the Triple-B Ranch. The Sheriff had left his horse ground-hitched,
in a grove of Aspens, at the back of the ranch yard. He had then slipped into
the kitchen through the back door.
He now was enjoying a good cup of strong black coffee,
and a slice of Hank’s famous apple pie. Hank and Sheriff Denton were good
friends, from way back, having punched cows together for the old rancher, Sam
Beckford, long before the ranch had started paying off, and long before Hank
figured out the fact that he was a better cook, than a puncher, and long before
Paul Denton had been appointed Sheriff.
They’d fought Indians right alongside Sam Beckford,
and helped in the capture of several gangs of rustlers. But that was the old
days, and this was now.
Hank was cooking up some beef, onions, gravy, and
fried potatoes, while they talked.
“Well, Paul,” Hank went on, “it’s gonna be just like
back when you an’ I were just young sprouts. You know, I always wondered why
that lawyer fella kept hangin’ around the ranch. I knowed he always liked
Trudy, but she couldn’t stand the sight of him, an’ he bein’ old enough to be
her pa. Her old man didn’t seem to have much to say around that lawyer fella,
an’ I always felt that Clayborne Phillips had somethin’ on the old man.” Hank
paused to take a breath, and pour himself a mug of coffee.
He began again, “The old man, though, he always
discouraged any of the hands from even talkin’ to the girl.”
Sheriff Denton spoke now, “I think Phillips and
Holderman have always been thick as thieves, even way back before Sam Beckford
passed on. And I feel those two have been the brains behind any crooked
dealings, maybe just settin’ up old Woody Perkins, just so they could rake in
the money, Woody not bein’ very bright an’ all. Old Perkins was dirt-poor,
with that small spread of his, and he saw a way to move up in the world, guess
he grabbed at the chance. It’s the greed that moves some folks, you know.
“Guess they never thought that Beckford’s heir would
ever show up here, all the way from England.” Denton pushed his cup over, so
Hank could refill it, then took a swallow of coffee. He’d already polished off
the last bite of the delicious pie.
Hank refilled his own cup, then sat down at the table
while the food simmered on the cookstove. “Guess Perkins is about to have a fit
over there at the house. He’s been hollerin’ out from the courtyard, for some
of the hands to come up to the house, but so far, he hasn’t had an answer.
“There’s about half a dozen out on the range, and the
rest are settin’ there in the bunkhouse, playin’ cards, waitin’ for lunch to be
brought over.” Hank chuckled. “I almost feel sorry for Perkins. The man
ain’t too bright, but most of the hands never cared too much for him right from
the beginnin’, and now they know he’s no more than a squatter, and a illegal
trespasser to boot, they’re just asettin’ there waitin’ to see which way the
wind blows.
“Now that there Ranger Welby, you can see right off
that man means business.”
Sheriff Denton replied, “I’ve heard nothing but good
reports about the Ranger, never met him yet, but soon as you get that food
ready, we’ll head on over to the bunkhouse.”
Trudy Perkins, her tears drying now, her soft wavy
auburn hair hanging loosely, walked slowly back towards the house, as she
thought of how comforted she’d felt, when Cougar Olson had talked to her on the
wooden porch of the bunkhouse.
She’d never had anyone treat her as if she were such a
treasure, at least not since her mother had been alive. Cougar had assured her
that anything that had gone on, and anything that would happen, had been
entirely none of her doing. He said things would turn out alright for her, and
had promised faithfully that nothing would happen to her. He would personally
see to that.
Not being sure at all if she believed the promise, but
it had made her feel better anyway. Trudy always wore jeans and a shirt around
the ranch, and she’d felt no reason to dress up, as her pa, or that monster
Holderman, always watched her every move.
Well, she suddenly felt like putting on her prettiest
dress, so as she neared the courtyard in front of the house, she decided that
was just what she was going to do; she had a pale green gingham that would do
nicely.
Her father was watching her approach, from the doorway
of the courtyard. “Trudy girl, you get yourself in here now.” He shouted.
“Just what do you think you were doin’ anyhow, over there talkin’ to them
cowhands, I’m still your pa, you know.”
Ignoring his raving, she continued to move towards the
entrance. Just as Perkins opened his mouth to yell again, he looked in the
direction of the trail, and noted the approaching four horsemen, escorting the
buggy towards the ranch yard. The determined way the four men were riding, he
knew right off this spelled trouble. Well, he’d been expecting it.
Perkins ran and grabbed Trudy’s arm, pulling her into
the courtyard, then at once, closed the tall iron gate, and secured the latch.
The wall that encircled the courtyard was high, and came up to Perkins’
shoulders.
He ran into the house and grabbed a Winchester from
inside parlor door, his eyes blazing.
Trudy followed him into the front hallway. “Pa, no!”
She yelled.
“Stay inside, girl.” He ordered. “This is not your
affair. This is men’s business.”
“Pa, you’re being foolish!”
Ignoring Trudy, he walked back outside; carrying the
rifle in his right hand, then peered through the gate.
Trudy had trailed him back outside, “Pa, don’t you
see?” She spoke gently now. “It’s just no use. Besides, that’s Holderman in
the buggy and Clayborne Phillips is in the buggy with him.”
“Clayborne? Yes, it is him.” He turned to look at
Trudy. “And it’s a good thing, daughter, that he didn’t come up when you was down
there talkin’ to that cowboy, Olson. He wouldn’t have liked that one bit.”
“Why, Pa, that’s none of Mr. Phillips’ business who I
talk to.” She retorted.
“It is too, daughter. He’s spoke for you. Now,
that’s why it’s his business. Now you run along an’ leave men’s business to
men.” He turned back to watch through the gate.
Trudy stared at her father in horror, as she backed
away, “Pa, he’s…….he’s too old for me even to think about, besides, I can’t
even stand that horrible man. You had no right!” She wailed.
Perkins spoke over his shoulder, “Now you don’t go
against your pa, Trudy girl. He’ll treat you right, an’ some day this ranch
will be his.”
“Pa……..this ranch isn’t even yours.” She shouted, as
she turned and ran onto the porch of the house, thoughts of dressing up
forgotten, her tears beginning to flow once more.
As Perkins peered through the iron gate, he noted the
two men who had worked for him for a few days, breaking mustangs to the saddle,
and wondered what they were doing back here. Surely Holderman hadn’t hired
them again. He also noted two strangers, one an older white-haired gentleman,
and the other, a big brute of a man.
Trudy had walked back to stand near her father to try
once more to talk some sense into him. “Pa…,” She began.
Perkins turned to glare at her.
“Pa, you’re being hasty. Please listen to me, and put
down the rifle.” She pleaded.
“Just what do you know about anything? You’re only a
girl. Now, don’t you go against your pa.”
Trudy took a deep breath, then tried once more, “Come
on, Pa, I’ll walk out with you. Let’s just see what they want. Besides, I
haven’t told you yet, but I found out that there’s a Texas Ranger out there.
He’s in the bunkhouse, talking to the men. They’re listening to him too, and
most of them said they wouldn’t go against the law for anyone.
“They also said that they may ride for the brand, but
now they’re not even sure just who owns the brand anyway, Pa.”
Perkins listened to Trudy, then blustered. “I ain’t
afraid of no Ranger! Ain’t no one gonna steal this place from me. You’ll see.
My men will back me. Now you just head on into the house and stay outta
sight.”
Trudy stood for one full minute, staring at her
father, then turned and walked slowly around the side of the house, towards the
back gate. Letting herself out of the yard, she headed for the stable to
saddle the pinto mustang, after which she took the back trail, riding towards
town. She had one girlfriend in Coyote Springs, she’d known from school, Anna.
Trudy hadn’t seen her friend for several months, but
that was because she’d never been allowed to visit her unless her father, or
Holderman, escorted her there and back, and that wasn’t often. She knew Anna
would welcome her, although Anna never visited Trudy at the ranch anymore, as
Trudy’s father had been so rude, overbearing, and watched every move they made.
The one time Anna had visited, she swore that she’d never return. However,
she’d always told Trudy to come and stay with her and her folks, in town, as
long as she liked, well maybe now she could stay a few days, at least until
things were cleared up at the ranch. She now wished she’d had time to pack a
small bag. As her tears continued flowing, Trudy urged the pinto into a
gallop.
From the back window of the bunkhouse, Cougar Olson
had seen Trudy ride away, as had others in the room. Cougar started for the
door, then paused, looking toward Ranger Welby. Welby well understood the
situation, and nodded. “Go after her, Olson. We can handle things here.” He
said, “At least make sure the girl gets where she’s going safely.”
Olson hurried to the corral to saddle his horse, after
which he took off down the back trail. “Foolish girl.” He thought to himself,
“Shouldn’t be ridin’ off alone like that, upset as she is.” He hoped to catch
up quickly, and halfway to town, where Trudy had stopped to water and rest her
horse, Cougar Olson did just that.
<><><>
Woody Perkins watched as Holderman and Phillips
climbed down from the buggy they’d been riding in, and started walking toward
the house. The only thing wrong with that was that the other four men were
well armed, and walking right behind the attorney and the foreman of the
ranch. “I’ll bet that white-haired gent is that Englishman, who wants to steal
this ranch.” Woody muttered to himself, “I’ll fix him. He won’t get this
place, no how. He lifted the rifle, and pointed it through the gate. “Hold it
right there.” He yelled.
“Don’t shoot, Perkins. It’s Holderman and me.”
Phillips retorted.
“Well, you two step aside then. Them folks ain’t comin’
in here. I bought this property fair an’ square. I know what they’re up to,
an’ it just ain’t gonna work. It’s gonna be just like them range wars you hear
about, an’ I’ll gun down any man who steps inside this courtyard.” Woody
insisted, as his voice shook.
“Let us in the gate Perkins.” Logan spoke now, as
they continued to walk towards the house. “Just back up and we all can sit
down, and discuss how we are going to settle this situation.”
“Just where do you fit into this, Wakefield?” Perkins
asked. “Last time I saw you and your friend there, you two were bronc busters,
headin’ back to town. Come up in the world, have you?”
“Well, it’s like this, Perkins; you can figure it out,
if you’re smart enough. Now step back, and open that gate or we’ll bust it
down.” Logan turned to Lord Beckford, and added, “Oh, and by the way, in case
you haven’t guessed, this is the real owner of the Triple-B Ranch. Let me
present Lord Claude Beckford, heir of the property, and never sold it either.”