Wyoming Heather (9 page)

Chapter 18

Dusk fell. Whip knew he shouldn’t have treated himself to a shave and hot meal, but the opportunity didn’t present itself often. He’d left Alice filling the remainder of his order a few hours ago, and made sure to steer clear of the railroad station.

He’d brought the wagon around and left it behind the store. Alice had assured him she had a couple of husky kids to do the heavy lifting, and he was not to worry. It would be all loaded when he returned. He only had to pay the bill.

When he walked back into the store this time, the chairs surrounding the barrel were taken by two old timers. They eyed him suspiciously and stopped talking as he got closer.

“Evening.”

The thinnest and most grizzled of the two had a chaw of tobacco poking out the side of a weathered cheek. He turned his head to the side and spit, hitting the spittoon dead center. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, then reached into a pocket of his bib overalls and pulled out a stick of chew and a knife. He squinted and with a trembling hand cut off a hunk and popped it in his mouth.

Whip could have been a tree for all the notice the old man gave him.

“Harley don’t like strangers.” The comment was offered by the other chair holder. Where Harley was thin and grizzled, this man was short with an overall covered belly that stuck out far enough to hide his shoes. His shiny, round face was red, made even more so by a full head of white hair. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Everett, and I don’t mind a stranger or two. Kinda livens up the day seein’ a fresh face now and again.”

His eyes twinkled and Whip felt drawn to the likeable old man.

“I’d get up, Sonny, but don’t see no sense in haulin’ this gut of mine out of this chair lessen I have to.”

Whip took the proffered hand and was surprised by the strength of the man’s grip.

“Everett, pleased to meet you. You’ll probably be seeing more of me from time to time. Whip Johnson, Powder River Ranch.”

“Know the place. Been let go,” he said laconically.

“I’ve been gone.”

“You the feller whose missus was killed by the bank robber several years ago.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I am,” Whip answered quietly.

Everett nodded toward his companion who had stopped chewing and listened intently. “Harley was in the bank when it was being robbed.”

Whip’s head spun around. “That right?” he asked, giving Harley a piercing look.

“Yep.”

“You saw the man?”

“Yep.”

Whip pulled from his pocket a silver star, dull with age and wear. His eyes never left Harley’s face.

“I’m a Texas Ranger. Spent the last five years looking for that man. You’re the first person I’ve met who knew of him.” He hunkered down in front of the two men, both leaned forward in their chairs.

Harley reached out a gnarled finger and took the star from Whip’s hand.

“Texas Ranger, huh? Thought you said you owned the Powder River Ranch?”

“I am, and, yes, I do own the ranch. I’m here to stay, but I’ll never quit looking for that man. I may not be active, but I’m still a Ranger. I’d appreciate anything you could tell me. Anything.”

Harley handed back the star. “Nothing to tell. I was in the bank when this feller comes in with a pistol in one hand and a feed sack in the other. Bandana covered half his face, but it fell and I saw it real good.”

“When what?” Whip exploded, standing to his feet. “You saw his face?”

“He didn’t know it, but I did. I looked the other way, and he pushed it back up quick-like.”

Whip shook his head trying to bring himself back under control. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Do you know him?” he whispered, with the quietness of a hesitant prayer.

“Yep.”

Whip sucked in his breath. The store was evening cool, a slight breeze coming in the open door, but Whip felt bathed in fire, his ears roaring. Then he realized Harley was speaking.

“Newt Jessup. Youngest one of the Jessup boys. Whole passel of them was no good and Newt wasn’t any different. The old man was a thief and, like they say, the apple didn’t fall fer from the tree.” He hit the spittoon with a
whang
adding an exclamation to the sentence.

Whip’s throat was dry and the words caught in his throat. “You don’t know where I might find this Newt, do you?” He held his breath.

“Nope. Sorry. The old man died and the boys scattered every which way. All that’s left to even mark their being in these parts is what’s left of a sod shanty. Never saw Newt after that day at the bank. When the story got out about your wife, I knew Newt was the one shot her. Rode out to your place to tell you, but you was long gone. Wouldn’t uh mattered. Newt, he wasn’t dumb. Don’t rightly know why he stopped at your place, but like I said, he wasn’t dumb. Bet a dollar he lit out for Mexico and holed up there, especially if he had plenty of money, which I guess he had.”

Whip laid a weary hand on the old man’s shoulder. The pleasant, all-around, good feeling he’d had after his shave and dinner, was gone.

“Thanks,” he said, giving the thin shoulder a squeeze. “Least I’ve got a name to go with a face. Nice talking to you. Missed you earlier.”

“Yeah,” Everett broke in, “we had to take in that Orphan Train.”

Whip blinked back to the present. “How’d that go?” he asked, glad to change the subject.

“Well, depends on whose side you’re talking from. From the people that took them a kid or two, I guess it went okay. But by darn, if I was one of them kids, all trussed up in new Sunday best and paraded out to stand waiting for someone to look me over and decide if they wanted me or not, well, that’s a different story. Those kids looked tired and scared. And why the hell wouldn’t they be?” he asked, belligerently. “Can’t fault with wanting to get them out of the city and into a home, but ‘pears to me there’s a better way of doing it. Don’t know what, but I’d sure hate to be in their shoes. No, sir. I wouldn’t like it one little bit.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Everett. It had to be hard.” Whip headed to the back counter but Everett’s next words stopped him. “Heard you met our Heather.”

Whip smiled warily and turned back to the man. “I did.”

“Well, you see her again tell her Everett said ‘hello’. Tell her my pup’s doing just fine.”

“Your pup?”

“Heather saved him. Gotten a’hold of Coyote poison, I guess. I got him out to her ranch and she took over. She’s got a way with animals, all right. She stirred up something and poked it down his gullet. He started puking. Didn’t think he’d ever stop. Anyway, he’s fit as a fiddle now. But you tell Heather, he’s still chewing up every piece of leather in sight.” The smile on Everett’s face told him that the pup’s chewing was pretty much okay with him.

“Pup’s no good.” Harley added, his eyes dancing.

Everett rose to the bait like a trout to a worm. “Now you listen here, Harley. That pup’s got more between his ears than most people, present company included.”

“Dumb.” Harley leaned back in his chair and reeled Everett in.

“Smartest one of the litter!” Everett thrust his chin out. “He picked me. I moseyed up to that box of pups and over the side he came, fat little belly dragging the ground. Waddled right over to me and darned if he didn’t lay his head on my boot and go right to sleep. Like I said, he picked me.”

“Like I said. Dumb.” The spittoon bounced with the velocity of the well-placed wad.

Everett snorted, his face an angry red. Then he saw the gleam in Harley’s eye and knew he’d been had. Whip had seen it first, and his laughter filled the room.

“You ain’t got the sense God gave a goose, Harley. Don’t know why I put up with you. I’m probably the only friend you got.”

“Only friend I got left, you mean. Rest is dead and buried. We’re getting old.”

“Speak for yourself.” Everett spit out, turning his back as if to say, Harley was no more than a splinter, barely able to penetrate his thick hide.

“Just hold on now, young fella, Everett said. “Don’t pay him no never mind. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Heather,” he said warming to his topic. “Single woman. Pretty as a picture, too.” He waited for Whip’s reply, daring him to differ.

“That she is,” Whip offered cautiously, not wanting to give the two old gossips fodder.

“Fella could do worse.” His eyes narrowed. “Got a mighty nice spread.”

“She does that.”

Everett frowned. Not about to give up, he threw out, “Sassy.”

“Mmm, hmm.” Whip smiled, easing away from the pair. “That’s a fact.”

“Course I like my women sassy. How ‘bout you, sonny?” Everett’s voice rose, nipping at his heels.

“Now, Everett, that’s a double-barreled question,” Whip said softly. “Either way I answer could hang me.”

Harley gave a phlegmy chuckle. “He’s got you there, Everett.”

“You two have a nice evening. Hope to see you the next time I come in for supplies.” Whip tipped his hat at the two, then paused. “And, Everett,” he said in a confiding tone, “there’s not a darn thing wrong with sassy. Nope. Not a darn thing.” He left the two with their mouths open, watching him stride toward the back of the store and his waiting wagon.

Chapter 19

“Don’t wiggle.” The whisper in the night was muffled by the canvass tarp.

“You can’t be crying!” The voice continued scolding as if its strength alone would stop the tears. “We gotta be quiet and still. He find us now and we’re gonners.” The sound of quiet sniffling was met with more admonitions.

“You ain’t no baby. Stop being one. Told you I’d take care of you and I will. I’m big and strong.”

A small hiccup and a shuddering sob heralded the effort the crier made to follow the orders of the “big and strong” person.

“Wipe your nose on your sleeve. Here,” the voice continued. “You can hold my hand this once.” Canvass mounds moved ever so slightly.

“Here’s the plan one more time. We got to do it just right. You listening?”

Silence.

“Okay. We’ll hitch us a ride on this here wagon until we’re out of town. When I think it’s safe, we’ll jump. I’ll have your hand, but you have to jump clear off the back. It’s a far ways to the ground. Won’t be hard for me ‘cause I’m bigger and my legs are longer. Yours aren’t, so I guess I’ll just have to help you.” He gave an exaggerated sigh of weighty responsibility.

“Once we hit the ground, we gotta run fast, and mebbe for a long ways least until I say it’s safe. No stopping no matter how tired you are until I say so. Understand?”

The speaker went on, not deterred by lack of response.

“It’s dark out there, but that’s probably best. I ain’t scared of no dark.” His voice quavered. “But a little thing like you is. Might be bears. Shhh, I said might be. I gotta think of everything. Don’tcha see? So just in case there’s wild animals, I have to find us a place to spend the night. Maybe an empty cave or a hollow tree. We gotta be watchin’ fer Indians too.”

With these last words the sniffling and sobs started anew.

“Goldarn it! You are a baby. No wonder no one wanted you. You stop now, I don’t mean to scare you, but I gotta think of these things so I’ll be prepared. I’ll bet you’ve wet your pants again. Have you?”

No answer.

“Well, don’t. They’s all we got even if we had to smear horse hockey all over them and you. ‘Member, you don’t let anyone give you no bath. You fight like Billy hell if anyone tries. We’re lucky that stupid Tom traded his pants for my shooter. Boy was he dumb. He didn’t even see it was nicked.”

The night took back the silence as the speaker grew quiet reflecting on Tom and his ignorance, oblivious to the smell emanating from his companion.

“Now about them Indians. I can fight ‘em, but a little thing like you can’t. I’ll keep my eyes out for them, and I got real good ears. I can hear a beetle crawl. You probably can’t, but I can.

“Once we get to the creek, we’ll start hunting for gold. We don’t need much, just enough to make us rich. We’ll buy us a house and we won’t have to wait for anyone to choose us. We’ll both have our own bedrooms and our own beds.” The words came slower and were accompanied by a loud yawn. “We’ll have lots’a food and nobody, nobody will ever hit us again. And we’ll stay together. You can’t make all that happen ‘cause you probably don’t even know what gold is. But I can, ‘cause I do.”

Another yawn punctuated the words.

“I know you’re hungry. I am, too, but not as bad cause I’m bigger. We’ll have to eat berries for a while. You can’t find them, but I can. I can find them.” The voice wound down to a stop like the broken spring on a clock.

Movement ceased.

All was still. The night kept watch, and no secret was disclosed when some time later the wagon gave a lurch. Reins cracked, and the wagon full of supplies and castaways rolled out of the town, headed for the Powder River Ranch.

Whip was anxious to get home. It took him by surprise to realize that after all this time he’d begun to think of the ranch as home again.

The miles rolled along without Whip noticing them or the night shrouded countryside. His mind raced, replaying his time in town, the conversations, and all he’d purchased. He’d gotten everything his crew had ordered, and then some.

His hand went up to his shirt pocket, fingers tracing the outline of a small tin. Belgium chocolates. If the candy inside tasted as good as the tin looked, then he couldn’t go wrong. It was the color of brass but rubbed to a soft shine. A woman’s face was carved into the lid, her hair pulled back into curls with a ribbon drifting down her neck to the top of her shoulder. That was all. Just her profile, but it was enough to give the viewer a glimpse of elegance and beauty. When the candy was gone, it would be a box for keepsakes.

Alice said they were imported. And when Whip saw the price, he believed it. He’d gulped, then wanting to escape Alice’s speculative look, had almost walked away without the purchase. But he didn’t. He avoided her eyes as he added them to his growing pile. And from the moment he placed them carefully in his shirt pocket, he began looking forward to, and anticipating, the giving and smile on a certain someone’s face. A certain sassy someone’s face.

He made the trip home with a desire for the night to end and tomorrow to come.

When the wagon topped a hill, he surveyed the buildings below. His. Was it his imagination or did the moon seem brighter as it lay in the sky suspended over the cabin and outbuildings? A few clouds feathered across the sky. Lacy fingers across the moon, not diminishing its warm glow.

A breeze toyed with the wavy hair along his neck. He pushed his hat back and lifted his face to the night air. There was a faint scent of moisture, but the number of stars in the sky belied that possibility.

He braced his leg against the wagon front and gently clicked a command to the tired horse. “You ease on down this hill now. We’re almost home, and I don’t want any of them barrels or feed sacks shifting back there. Easy does it.”

Creaking of wheels greeted his command as the wagon moved forward. A scent of manure wafted on the wind and it seemed to come from the back of the wagon. Couldn’t be, though. He’d cleaned the wagon himself and all the goods inside were new and clean. He concentrated on the slow, easy pace down the winding road to the ranch.

He stopped in front of the cabin, having decided to do no more than necessary tonight before dropping his tired body into the waiting bed. He’d unharness the horse, take it to the barn, rub it down and give it some oats. Unloading the wagon would wait until light of day.

In no time all, chores were accomplished. A lantern flickered from inside the cabin, then went out. The cicadas shrill was nature’s lullaby as Whip slept the sleep of satisfaction. The ranch slept in the moonlight. And, in the wagon, the little inhabitants slept, too. Theirs was the sleep of innocence.