Solitary Horseman (6 page)

“Those are falcons, dumb butt,” Maxwell had pointed out. “A chicken hawk ain’t going to sit on your gloved hand, pretty as you please.”

“I don’t know why not,” Harrison had insisted. “I’m good at training animals.”

As if on cue, his horse had reared up, then bucked, sending Harrison flying before landing hard enough to knock the breath out of him.

“Yeah, you sure know how to train animals, Harry! You surely do!” Max had said between bursts of laughter.

Callum had laughed so hard his ribs had been sore the next day. Even now, he felt a lightening of his dark mood. But it was fleeting. Always fleeting. He scanned the gentle sway of the trees, their leaves turning yellow and brown, and the fat, scudding clouds that promised rain. Winter would be calling soon. Another cold, lonely winter. Melancholy, his old friend, rode with him as he shut out the memories that entertained him even as they twisted in him like a knife.

Nearing the area of the Payne ranch where he had last spied Johnson and Baines, he went over what he would say and the likely reactions he might get. He checked his Springfield rifle and Colt sidearm just to be sure they had bullets chambered.

Topping a small ridge, he caught sight of the two cowhands, who were now with Eller and Hollis. Just as well. He didn’t mind that audience for what he was about to do. They needed to know what he would and wouldn’t put up with. As Butter approached them at a lazy trot, they all turned in their saddles to face him. Shadows played across them, but Callum was fairly certain that Johnson and Baines shared a quick and telling eyeball-to-eyeball exchange.

Yes, boys, time to reap what you’ve sown.
Callum slowed Butter to a walk and then reined her to a stop near the semi-circle of cowpokes. He looked toward the mooing herd, some grazing and some lying down to chew their cud. They were all Payne cattle. He could tell because they were underweight by his standards.

“They’re sure on the puny side,” he said, swinging his gaze back to the men and zeroing in on Johnson. He figured that Jeb Johnson was the ringleader and Russell Baines followed along like a faithful hound. “Long way from bringing top dollar at market.”

“We’ll get them fattened up by market time,” Eller said, all puffed up with confidence he sure as hell hadn’t earned.

“We will, huh? That’s good to hear. I’ll hold you to that, Eller. If they’re not, maybe you’d be so kind as to let me dock your pay.”

Eller grinned. “I ain’t that kind, cousin.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“But we
will
get these cattle up to a decent weight.” Eller gave him a wink.

Callum switched his attention to Johnson again. “Any of you know what happened to the heifer that birthed the calf we found this morning?”

They all exchanged befuddled glances, shaking their heads.

“I’ve looked for her off and on all morning,” Hollis said. “I found a trail, but it got washed out.”

“Over that rise, out by the Pitchfork foothills?” Callum asked, and Hollis nodded. “I saw that, too. Did you notice that it was the tracks of more than one cow?”

“Yep. Looked like maybe three or four.”

Callum nodded, all the while keeping his gaze shifting from Johnson to Baines and back to Johnson. “Mama cows with newborns don’t wander off with a couple of other heifers and leave their calves behind them.”

“Maybe a coyote was after her,” Baines said.

“No coyote tracks. Just cattle and horses.”

“Horses?” Hollis echoed with a scowl.

“They were mostly rubbed out by someone trailing a branch, making them hard to see. I had to get down off my horse and look real close to find a few of them.”

“Well, hell.” Eller crossed his wrists on his saddle horn. “I don’t like the sound of that, cousin.”

“Only one conclusion to make from it,” Callum said, staring hard at Johnson and watching the sweat bead on the man’s forehead under his hat’s brim and dampen his droopy black mustache. “We have some cattle thieves in our ranks.” From his periphery vision, he saw Hollis and Eller glance at each other and then direct their attention to Johnson and Baines.

“I’ve heard about Yanks roaming in these parts and stealing cattle,” Baines piped up, his dark eyes widening.

“I’ve heard that, too, but I don’t have any Yanks on my payroll.” Callum squinted one eye, taking a sharper bead on Johnson. “You took the Payne’s market money last season, didn’t you?”

“No!” Baines blurted, his eyes growing even bigger, bugging out even.

“We was robbed,” Johnson said, quietly, his face tightening.

“Yeah, I heard that story.” Callum rested his hand on the butt of his gun. “Since then Payne cattle have gone missing every few weeks – a few here and a few there. I reckon you’re in cahoots with another rancher or just hiding the stolen cattle in the brush land by the river. Letting them get fat before you drive them to market. Of course, you plan to hightail it from here before then.”

“You surely ain’t accusing us of stealing,” Johnson snarled.

“No.” Callum leaned closer. “I’m calling you thieving sonsofbitches outright and to your cowardly faces. Men are hung for what you’ve done, but I don’t have the time to catch you at your thieving and turn you over to the sheriff to be hanged. So, I’m telling you to get the hell off this land and don’t ever show yourselves to me again or I’ll put a bullet in your brain pans and not lose a wink’s sleep over it.” He stared hard at Baines and then at Johnson. “Either one of you doubt me? Say so now and I’ll demonstrate on one of you.” He tightened the ivory grip on his revolver and pulled it ever so slowly from the holster.

He could see that he’d made an instant believer out of Baines, but it took Johnson a few seconds.

“You’re plumb loco!” Baines said. “You can’t just shoot a man and get away with it.”

“I don’t see anyone who would say that what I do or don’t do isn’t right and proper.” He glanced at Hollis and Eller. Hollis looked off to the horizon and Eller gave a shrug and another grin.

Johnson stared at him before the blood slowly seeped from his face until he was pasty white. He looked away from Callum’s steady gaze and stared at Eller.

“You got anything to say about this, Hawkins?” Johnson asked.

Eller’s brows shot up. “Seems that Cal’s doing all the talking here. I’m just a bystander.”

Johnson glowered at him for a moment and then spit at the ground near Eller’s horse. “We don’t stay where we ain’t wanted. Where do we pick up our pay?”

Callum had to smirk at that. “You can pick it up in cow dung on your way off the ranch.”

Johnson’s head angled back as if he’d been socked. “You’ve made an enemy, Latimer.” He reined his horse around and gave it his spurs. Baines was right behind him, his copper colored mustang throwing up dirt clods.

Eller let out a long whistle. “I sure as hell didn’t see
that
coming. How long have you thought they were stealing?”

“Ever since Banner Payne told me about how they were
robbed
when they were returning from market last year.” He threw a chiding glance at Hollis. “Did you ever believe that hogwash, Hollis?”

Hollis squared his shoulders and his chin bobbed up. “It crossed my mind, but everybody says Yanks are crawling all over the place, taking people’s land and robbing them blind.”

“Yanks. Rebs.” Callum replaced his Colt in his holster and waved off the nonsense talk. “There are desperate, no-good, thieving people of every allegiance and color.”

“I didn’t trust those two,” Hollis admitted with a stubborn set to his mouth and jaw. “They were always flapping their tongues and acting like fools.”

Eller shrugged. “Hell, I don’t trust hardly anybody anyways, but I sure never suspected they were stealing cattle.”

“I’ll hire two more hands and have one of the Echohawks work this ranch with you. You and Hollis need to keep a closer eye on the cattle. Count heads and horns, including the calves, every damn day. Look for trails that lead off the land. Just because I told those two to vamoose, doesn’t mean they won’t sneak back and try to siphon off more of the herd. In fact, I expect it, just to get back at me.”

Eller touched the brim of his hat in a salute that irritated Callum.

“Eller, half the time when I ride out here in the afternoon, you’re already gone. We work from sunup to sundown. Not from sunup until we need a nap.”

Eller puffed up like a peacock. “I give a full day every damn day!”

Callum lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Next time I don’t see you out here, I’ll come looking for you. I better find you somewhere on this ranch working.”

Eller grinned at him. “Or what? You going to let me go?”

Callum grinned back at him, although he knew his was more like a sneer. “I’ll not only let you go, I’ll help you and your missus pack and escort you off the land. We’re holding on by our bootstraps here and I’m sure as hell not paying a cowhand who isn’t giving me a full day’s work.”

Eller glared at Callum, but then he laughed under his breath and set his horse to prancing. “Ah, hell, cuz! Quit rattling your sabre. You know I’m worth having around.”

Callum didn’t bother to comment on that since he’d already stated his intentions. “Let’s get back at it, then. Give me a head count this evening and every evening after. If you see anything suspicious – and I mean
anything –
you let me know. I haven’t given up finding enough evidence to earn Johnson and Baines rope neckties.”

###

Late that afternoon, the sound of a galloping horse brought Banner from around the side of her house where she’d been washing clothes. Her breath hitched when she recognized the Palomino and the rider. She ran her hands over the damp tendrils of hair that stuck to her temples and forehead, pushing them back and trying to tame her mahogany mane. Glancing down at her damp, white blouse clinging to her breasts and her wrinkled dark gray skirt, she wished for a shawl to throw over herself for modesty’s sake.

“Hello,” she called to Callum. “Are you looking for Hollis? He hasn’t come in from the range yet.” She glanced toward the lowering sun and guessed it to be five or six o’clock. Most days she left the Latimer place around four o’clock and came home to do a few chores and stir up a late supper for her and Hollis.

“I meant to catch you before you left for the day.” Callum reined his horse and swung down from the saddle. “Just missed you.” He removed his hat and slapped it against his chaps, dislodging trail dust. “I wanted you to know that I fired Johnson and Baines today. I reckon they’ve already cleared out their things from their bunks. You ought to check to be sure they only took what’s theirs.” He squinted at her. “I didn’t give them any pay because they’ve stolen money and cattle from you.”

She’d been fussing with the front of her blouse, tugging it away from her breasts, but ceased her agitated movements when his words penetrated. “You let them go? How will we work the cattle with so few men?”

“I’ll hire others.” He whacked his hat against the side of his leg again. “Hiring is easy. Finding honest men is what’s tricky. I might take on a couple of Ki Echohawk’s cousins. Do you have a problem with Comanche working your cattle?”

She stared at him a few moments, struck dumb, not by his question, but by the way the sunlight silvered the top of his black, wavy hair and accentuated the streaks in his green eyes. “Ummm . . .” She shook her head and laughed softly under her breath at her wayward thoughts. “Indians. You asked about Comanche . . . I have no problem with them. No.”

He tipped his head to one side. “Did I say something humorous?”

“No.” She attempted to dispel any mirth from her features. “I . . . my mind wandered. Thank you for coming by and letting me know.”

He stared down at his boots, but then his gaze lifted slowly up her body to where her blouse stuck to her skin – and there it stayed. She felt it . . . the heat of his lambent gaze, and her nipples hardened and ached. Unable to withstand another blistering moment, Banner folded her arms across the front of her blouse. His heated gaze lifted to hers. She expected him to snap out of it, redden, and mutter an apology of sorts. What she didn’t expect was the way his generous mouth tipped up at one corner.

“Something strike you as humorous?” she asked, almost in recitation.

“No. My mind wandered.” His lips stretched into a complete grin, making dimples appear in his whiskered cheeks. “South.”

His bald admission made her gasp softly. She pressed her fingertips to her lips, unsure of whether to be shocked or delighted.

He shrugged. “Can’t condemn a man for admiring God’s handiwork.” Pursing his lips to erase the grin from his face, he cleared his throat and glanced around. “So, when you leave my place, you come home to more work?”

It was her turn to clear her throat, although she found it impossible to clear her mind of the rare appearance of his smile. She hadn’t thought he could be more handsome. She’d been wrong. “Someone has to cook and clean here, too. And that’s not likely to be Hollis.”

He ran his fingers through his midnight hair, and then put his hat back on. “I’d best be on my way.”

“I hope we’ve seen the last of Johnson and Baines.”