SHILOH RANCH
Book Five of The
Arkansas Valley Series
by
r. William Rogers
*
Published by:
Robert W. Rogers at Smashwords
*
Shiloh Ranch
Book Five of The
Arkansas Valley Series
Copyright © 2011 by Robert W. Rogers
ebooks ISBN: 978-1-4658-8922-5
Cover Design Copyright © 2011 by:
(http://DigitalDonna.com)
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Unless otherwise indicated, Bible quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible. Copyright 1989 by Thomas Nelson Inc.
FORWARD
If you managed to get around to reading any of the previous books in this series, you no doubt have a pretty good understanding about how the Arkansas Valley is laid out and just how it came to be a part of the good old US of A. That being the case, you might just as well go right on and turn the page and get right to the reading. If, however, you haven’t read any of them other books...well, I’ll give you a little insight into some facts that might be of a help to you.
The Arkansas Valley isn’t much of a valley at all. It’s mostly just plains an’ grasslands that were home to a whole passel of Injuns, and not too many white men¼that is until after February of 1848. That’s when the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo was signed between the United States and Mexico. That piece a paper was the one that ended the Mexican-American War and set the borderlines between the two countries at the Rio Grande and Gila Rivers.
This treaty signing gave the United States an area of land that proved to be the next to last annexation made to the continental expansion of the United States, the last one being the Gadsden Purchase in 1853.
The United States paid the sum of $15,000,000 for the 525,000 square miles of land that eventually became: Arizona, California, parts of Colorado, and all of Nevada, Texas and Utah. In return for that bargain price the United States agreed to drop about $3,000,000 in no-account, quibbling claims that had been made by some United States citizens against Mexico.
The valley itself is in southern and southeastern Colorado. It lays claim to only a few rivers and less than its share of trees and bushes. These are limited to mainly cottonwoods and a few willows. There’s some Gamble’s Oak, mesquite, sagebrush and Yucca plants, but mainly there’s just grass, and plenty of it.
A fella usually associates a valley with mountains or at least some good-sized hills. Well, there aren’t a whole lot of either down there. Fact is, the closest mountains, with any size to ’em, would be the Rockies, and they’re a good ways off to the west...about a hundred miles or so, as the crow flies, I’d say.
If you did in fact feel the need to finish this “FORWARD”--of course you did, otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this part right now. Anyways, I appreciate your attention and invite you now to find a good comfortable spot that appeals to you. Maybe that’d be a spot under one of those cottonwoods or willows. Plus, if you feel the need, go on ahead and kick off your boots and put your feet up on a stump or something. You might even ask the missus to bring you a tall glass of lemonade and maybe sweet talk her out of a cookie or two.
Oh...just one other thing before you get started, on the front of this book, it says r. William Rogers. Well, that’s my name and it ain’t no more’n just a fancy way of saying Bob. I tend to be a friendly sort and invite you as a friend to turn the page and enjoy a good yarn about Shiloh Ranch, located just outside of Las Animas, down around southeastern Colorado in that flat valley I was just talkin’ about.
If you happen to doze off while you’re reading¼well, just keep a finger poked in between the pages so you don’t lose your place.
Enjoy.
Chapter 1
Young Chad Blackman peeked out from his place of concealment and watched with marked interest as the lioness continued her unrelenting search. The boy was big for his age. At barely eight years old he was already taller than most of the ten or even eleven-year-olds around the valley. Folks said he took after his pa, who stood just a shade over six-foot three. Chad wasn’t near six-three yet, but he was well on his way. However, his green eyes and dark brown hair were the same as his pa’s. His courage could easily have come from either his pa or his ma. Or even the both of ’em for that matter. Plain ’n simple, he wasn’t afraid of much of anything. But then again neither was he a fool.
The lioness stopped at a rotted-out stump and sniffed into the dark hole at its base. Encouraged, the dirt, leaves and twigs began to fly as she began in earnest to dig the hole wider.
Chad was so intent on remaining inconspicuous behind the boulder that he hadn’t noticed the slight breeze that was now blowing his scent toward the cat.
The lioness paused with a tentative paw hovering just above the rabbit hole and her snout poised slightly upward, testing the breeze. She then moved her head enough to inquire quizzically in his direction. Chad remained motionless, not daring to move a muscle, especially when she lowered the paw and turned to face him completely.
He’d been taught well by Charlie Two Buffalos and knew the cougar most likely wouldn’t even see him unless he made the mistake of showing some movement. He remained as motionless as he was able and held his breath while the cat continued to sniff into the slight breeze that stirred the leaves on the trees between them. The breeze finally shifted and the suspected hint of Chad’s scent was now less of a distraction to the cougar.
The cat then resumed her demolishing of the entrance to the unlucky rabbit’s hole, while all the while managing to keep a scant yet wary eye in Chad’s general direction.
Chad continued to watch the cat while he clutched the bow inside a fist replete with whitened knuckles. Charlie Two Buffalos had taught him how to shoot the weapon. He’d also taught him just where the best spot was to stick an animal so that the arrow would do the most good.
Chad had practiced endless hours and was confident he could place the arrow fairly close to where it needed to be. He also knew that he didn’t want to tangle with this lioness on anyone’s terms but his own. That is…unless there wasn’t any other way outta it. He respected the cat and knew what the animal was capable of. But at the same time he wasn’t afraid…leastways, not so’s it showed.
He remembered something his pa’d told him: Whenever you get in a tight, you need a clear head to be able to figger yer best way out. Fear only clouds a fella’s way a thinkin’ an’ makes things just that much tougher.
Chad figured the best way outta this scrape would be to maybe just ease his way down behind the rock and edge back a ways so they could both just go on about their business.
He’d just about made up his mind to disappear behind the rock when the animal raised her head and turned Chad’s way, again sniffing suspiciously at the air above her. Their eyes made contact and the boy successfully fought the urge to blink. The cat took a couple of slow, tentative steps toward him and halted. Her nose continued to test the slight breeze.
The youngster figured he needed to come up with another plan…and fast. Realizing his arms were hidden behind the rock, he knew the boulder would be cover enough to hide his movements while he fixed an arrow onto the bowstring...just in case. As he fiddled with the arrow, he kept his eyes trained on the cat.
The animal’s sniffing soon paid off and she got a good whiff of the boy’s scent. She cautiously started forward again.
Chad fought the urge to run, figuring that if he did, the cat would most likely attack.
The lioness again came to a halt, this time in mid-stride with one paw poised momentarily just above the ground. She warily placed it down and, angling her nose slightly upward, continued to test the breeze.
After a bit more fumbling, Chad managed to get the arrow nocked onto the bowstring. He held his position, as well as his breath, while he waited for the lioness to make the next move. His wait was a mite shorter than he would’ve liked.
Almost immediately the cat moved toward him again. But this time she seemed to be striding with a purpose in mind.
Chad’s heartbeat intensified with each step the cat took, sending a pounding pulse against the side of his throat. In just a few seconds he could hear his heartbeat resounding in his ears as he felt an unsettling in his stomach that he figured was most likely the beginnings of fear. He didn’t much like the feeling and decided to do something about it. Gathering his courage, he stepped out from behind the rock and into the open.
The lioness stopped and rumbled a deep-throated growl as she crouched, with her stomach nearly touching the ground. She curled her upper lip and snarled.
Figuring it was now or never, Chad spread his arms out to the sides in an attempt to appear as big as possible to the cat. Charlie Two Buffalos had taught him that, too, saying, “Sometimes this make lion want to go home.”
The lioness came up out of her crouch and turned away, suggesting she would leave.
Chad felt an easing in his gut as he realized that the tactic had indeed worked and the cat was leaving.
The animal continued to look over her shoulder as she took two cautious steps away from him, then stopped and with what appeared to Chad to be a determined change of heart, slowly turned to face squarely at him. She returned to her crouch and snarled another menacing warning. This time the crouch was different, as was the sound of the warning.
Chad’s gut started hurting again.
The lioness was going to attack.
He placed his fingers on the bowstring with the arrow’s nock held securely between his index and middle finger while he waited for the inevitable.
Just when Chad felt sure the cat would lunge, a knife shot out from behind the bushes to his left. It found its mark just in back of the cat’s right front leg.
The cougar cried out in agony as it jumped and twisted in mid-air. She managed only a few running strides before stumbling and falling.
The lioness struggled to regain her feet, and finally managed. Chad quickly judged the distance to be about fifteen yards or so, and pulled the bowstring back with all his might.
He let the arrow fly.
His aim was true and the shaft settled right next to the knife.
The cat went down again and this time she stayed down. Chad watched as the feathered end of the arrow arced a few times in direct relationship to the cat’s remaining few labored breaths. When the tail end of the arrow finally came to rest, Chad held the bow above his head with both hands and let out an Arapahoe war cry.
“You make good shot,” Charlie Two Buffalos said as he emerged from the bushes.
The Indian was of medium height, dark-skinned and had average features, as Indians go. His eyes were deep-set, black, and constantly moving. His hair was worn in two long braids that rested against his broad chest. His black hair was sprinkled with flecks of gray that indicated he’d been around for a spell. He was clad in a buckskin shirt and britches with a breechcloth worn outside the britches. His hat was flat-brimmed and had a single, white, Eagle feather sticking straight up from the left side of the hatband. His feet were moccasined.
Chad’s pa, Clint, had told him that Charlie Two Buffalos had come to the ranch back in ’69. Although Chad never did know exactly what the circumstances were around the Indian being there, he did, however, know that it had had something to do with rescuing some white men from Comanches or something. Chad hadn’t paid much attention to that part of it, though, because he’d just been a kid back then when he’d heard about it. Heck, he couldn’t even remember who it was that’d been doin’ the tellin’.
“Charlie, look!” Chad said, pointing at the lioness using the tip of the bow. “We got ’er.” He cautiously edged up to the carcass and jabbed it. “She’s deader’n a rock.” He grinned from ear-to-ear. “Why’d ya hafta throw the knife, though?” Chad asked looking up at the Indian. He was feeling braver now that he was sure the lioness was dead. “I had that cat right where I wanted her. Why...another two seconds or so and I’d a stuck her my ownself. Why…I figger in no time atall I’d a had her lookin’ like ma’s needle ’n pincushion.”
“Me know. Me see all. You not afraid. You have this lion where she no have some chance, but I need practice. I throw knife.”
Chad accepted the explanation with a nod and was secretly glad his friend had figured he needed the practice.
Charlie Two Buffalos looked on approvingly as Chad set about skinning the cat. He offered advice when it was needed and helped pull the hide off when the time came. Once the task was complete, Chad rolled the skin and hefted it across his pony’s rump. He took care as he tied it securely to the saddle. He slung his bow and quiver of arrows onto his back while grinning from ear to ear.
They mounted and headed for the ranch.
*
The ride home was longer than Chad figured it should’ve been. It seemed to him to be mighty slow-goin’. He was eager to show off the lion skin, and excited about telling the story of how they’d killed the cat. During the ride, he turned back into an eight-year-old and darn near chewed Charlie Two Buffalos’ ear clean off with all his jabberin’. “Did ya see how I was face ta face with this here lion?” He patted the skin behind him and hipped around to look at it.
“Ummm...me see.”
“Did ya see how I stood up to ’er?” He faced forward again. A close examination would have seen his chest puff out slightly.
“Ummm...me see,” Two Buffalos responded while easily seeing the barely discernible movement in the boy’s chest. A slight straightening of the mouth indicated a smile on the part of the Indian.
“Did ya see how I stuck that arrow right in her gizzard?”
“Ummm...”
“Well, did ya?”
“Yes...me see,” the Indian sighed.
That was pretty much the way the conversation went, over and over again until they neared the ranch. As they rode up to the corral and dismounted, a couple of the hands came walking outta the barn and spied the lion skin that was tied on behind Washtub’s saddle.
“Nice lookin’ hide ya got there, Chad,” Fisher said as he and George approached.
Chad had already loosened the tie-downs and pulled the skin off the paint’s rump, letting it flop to the ground. “Yeah...thanks Fisher. Ya shoulda been there. Ya shoulda seen it. I was face ta face with this girlie...not more’n ten or fifteen yards apart an’--”
“What the heck...?” Clint uttered as he neared the group. “Where’d ya get the cat, Two Buffalos?” he asked, turning to face the Indian.
Clint never did include the name Charlie when he called the Indian by name. Charlie was an extra moniker he’d picked up from Emily Drake’s Uncle, Senator Charles Benson, back when the senator had journeyed out here and become partners with the Drake’s in their sheep-raising business. Clint preferred just plain Two Buffalos.
The Indian, however, preferred Charlie Two Buffalos. He liked having three names. “Me no get. Chad get,” Two Buffalos said, figuring it was the boy’s cat. After all, he reasoned, the boy had stood face-to-face with it and had applied the finishing arrow. That counted for something.
“That right, Chad? You kill that cat?” Clint asked, looking admiringly at his son.
“Well yeah...kinda pa. I was fixin’ ta put a arrow into her when Charlie Two Buffalos stuck it with his knife. I finished ’er off though.”
“Well I’ll be,” Clint said and beamed. He walked over to his son and placed a hand on each of Chad’s shoulders. “Were ya scared?”
“Yessir, I surely was, but that cat never knowed it.” He glanced at the hide. “I kept my head clear just like ya taught me, Pa, and tried ta look bigger by puttin’ my arms out to the sides.” He looked at the hide again. “She almost went away, but changed her mind and figgered on stayin’ right at the last minute. Then she started to come after me and that’s when I got a little scared. But I was ready with my bow. That’s when Charlie Two Buffalos stuck ’er first and I applied the finishin’ touches.”
Clint pulled the boy to him. “Good job, son. I’m proud of you,” he said as he hugged him. Clint rose and turned to face Two Buffalos. “Where’d you fellas get her?”
Two Buffalos pointed toward the south. “By big buttes.”
“You see any more of ’em out there?”
“No...not see.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“You see any sign?”
“Ummm...some.”
Clint removed his hat and scratched his head. He was a big man. Not only was he about six-three in his stocking feet, but he had shoulders that seemed near as wide. The shoulders tapered down to nearly no waist at all. His face was square-jawed and handsome. The eyes were an intense green that didn’t at all match the dark brown hair. He looked like he could handle hisself without much help, if it came right down to it.
“Why you figger she’s this far away from the mountains?” he asked the Indian.
Two Buffalos gestured toward the west. “Me think big snow come to big mountains. Me think cat come here...hungry...look for food.” He paused and looked down at the hide. “Me think maybe we have much snow this winter...the pumas and bears know.”
Clint nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”
“What’s all the commotion?” Sue asked as she sided up to Clint and slipped an arm around her husband’s waist.
Probably the best way to describe Sue Blackman would be to say that she was absolutely beautiful. Her hair was long, fiery red, and worn tied back with a yellow ribbon. She had high cheekbones, a narrow jawline, and green eyes that just about matched her husband’s. Her nose was small and turned up a mite right on the end. The Lord had been kind to her and having had two children hadn’t harmed her girlish figure one little bit.
“Ma...look!” Chad said, pointing to the cougar’s hide.
“Well, glory be. Where’d that come from?”
“Me ’n Charlie Two Buffalos kilt her just a couple a hours ago over by the buttes.”
“You weren’t in any danger, were you?” She looked first at Chad, then at the Indian.
“Shucks no, Ma,” he lied. “It was easy as fallin’ off a log.” He winked at the Indian who twitched a slight smile while giving an almost imperceptible nod.
“Okay, I saw that sign between you two.” She put her hand on Chad’s shoulder and pulled him around to face her. “Were you in any danger, Chad Blackman? And I want the truth!”
“Well...” He scuffed the dirt with the toe of his boot. He then pulled it around in a circle. “Maybe just a little. But nothin’ me ’n Charlie Two Buffalos couldn’t handle.”
“Chad Blackman. How many times have I told you...? She struggled for the right words. “What am I gonna do with?” Flustered, she turned to Clint. “Clint, you have to do something with this son of yours,” she pleaded.
“Okay, Sue, whatever you say,” he promised. “Just simmer down.” He placed the palms of both hands up between them, assuming a defensive posture. At the same time he made the mistake of winking at Chad.
“I saw that and I’ll not tolerate you lettin’ him off this time.” She placed her fists on the tops of her hips and set her jaw.
“I swear, Ma, you got eyes better’n a antelope,” Chad said, shaking his head. “Why, I’d just bet one a Uncle Jimmy’s sheep dogs, clean over ta his place, could have a flea what was bitin’ his butt and you’d see that hound scatchin’ it from all the way over here.”
Her mouth dropped as an expression of mild disbelief came over her. “Shame on you, boy,” she said. “I outta wash your mouth out with soap for cussin’.”
“What cussin’, Ma? All I said was butt. That ain’t cussin’. I figure everyone’s got one...even fleas, so that means it cain’t be cussin’.”
Clint stepped between them. “Now Sue, just leave the boy to me,” he said placing an arm around her shoulders. “You just go on back to the house now. We’ll be there directly an’ Chad’ll be apologizin’ for his heathen cussin’. Go on now...git.” He emphasized the “git” with a pat on her backside as he turned her toward the house. He was pleased to see the small grin that had stretched the corner of her mouth as she turned and began walking away.
Clint shifted his attention back toward the group of fellas and watched as they struggled to hide their smiles behind a hand or pulled down hatbrim. “That’s okay boys,” he assured them. “I figure it was kinda humorsome my ownself,” he said, letting a smile cross his own face. He turned toward his son, forcing the smile to fade. “Problem is, Chad...what a fella thinks is funny and what a ma thinks is funny are sometimes two different things.”
“I know, Pa, but it’s still true.” He looked down at the dirt and went back to tracing small circles with the toe of his boot.
“Alright, son. We’ll go smooth your ma out directly. In the meantime,” he looked at the fellas, “I want someone to ride over to the Drake place and tell Jimmy about the cat.”
George spoke up, saying he’d be obliged to make the ride.
Chapter 2
George had been with the ranch for quite a spell now, and Fisher too for that matter. They’d both worked for Sue even before Clint’d showed up. After Clint had gotten hired on and had become foreman, the two of ’em, along with two other fellas, who’d long since pulled up stakes, rode with Clint to rescue Jimmy Drake--his name was Slater back then--who’d been captured by Indians.
As the story goes, they’d met up with an army column that had been tracking a bunch of Comanches that’d killed the Benson’s over by Caddoa and made off with their sixteen-year-old daughter, Emily. The lieutenant in charge had loaned Clint his Arapahoe scout, Two Buffalos, to help track the Comanches.
Well, they found Jimmy alright, or maybe it’d be better to say Jimmy’d found them. He’d escaped from the Comanches, with Emily’s help, who it turned out had been being held captive in the same camp.
During the rescue, George and Fisher had both been hurt pretty badly and were taken back to the ranch. After leaving them there, Clint, Jimmy, and Two Buffalos had returned to the Indian camp to rescue Emily. They’d pulled that off with the help of the same army column they’d met up with before.
Well...after everything had settled down, Mother Nature stepped in to take charge and one thing just kinda led to another. The resulting sum total of it all was that Jimmy ’n Emily, along with Clint an’ Sue, were married in a double wedding ceremony in October of ’69.
*
“Okay, George,” Clint instructed, “you go ahead. Be sure an’ let Jimmy know that the cat was kilt over by the big buttes. That’s right on the line by his property. He’ll have an interest in that.” George turned to leave. “Oh...and one other thing...”
George turned back to face Clint.
“Tell Jimmy we’ll see him ’n Emily at church tomorrow and we’ll talk some more about it then.”
“Anything else?”
“No, that’s about it.”
“Can I go with him, Pa?” Chad asked, and started toward George.
“No son, you best stay here. We gotta deal with your ma an’ there ain’t nothin’ to be gained by puttin’ it off.”
“Yes, Pa,” he said dejectedly.
George went off to saddle up.
Clint placed an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Come on, son. Let’s go get this over with.”
Chad was none too anxious to face his ma. “Yessir.”
Two Buffalos and Fisher took the skin to salt it down and stretch it out on the barn wall for drying. That way the Indian could start scraping it for tanning. Before hanging it, Two Buffalos began scraping out the cat’s brains--he’d be needing these to pound into the hide during the tanning process.
Clint and Chad went to the house and continued right on into the parlor. Sue looked up from her sewing. She rolled it up and put it aside. She then folded her hands in her lap and looked at their son. Chad stood before her and studied the toes of her shoes. Clint sat down in the easy chair and left them alone. He knew she’d be fair with the boy.
“Well Chad, what do you have to say for yourself?” she asked, as she stood and straightened the front of her dress.
He looked up into his ma’s eyes. “Ma, I--”
Just then Rebecca came skipping into the room. “Chad’s...in...trou...ble. Chad’s...in…trou...ble,” she chanted in time to her skipping.
Becky was the spittin’-image of her ma: same facial structure, same turned-up nose, same fiery-red hair and green eyes to complete the package. The only difference was the freckles--she had herself a passel of ’em.
Clint had told her once that, “If each one a them freckles was worth a nickle, I ’spect you’d be just about the richest person here abouts.”
She had recently started losing her baby teeth and displayed two gaping holes when she smiled...one on top and one on the bottom.
“Ma...make her stop!” Chad pleaded, as he reached out for his six-year-old brat sister.
“Rebecca, you hush this instant or you’ll be standin’ right here next to Chad.”
“Come here, Becky,” Clint coaxed, as he reached out for his daughter.
She stuck her tongue out at Chad and went to her pa.
“Ma...she stuck her tongue out!”
“Come here, sweetheart,” Clint said tenderly and, after placing his hands under her armpits, hefted her onto the safety of his lap. “You sit right here an’ be quiet.”
Sue continued, “Now, Mister, what’s all this about fleas havin’ butts?”
Chad’s mouth dropped open as he looked at his ma. “Ma...ya-you’re cu-cussin’,” he stammered.
“But I thought you said that wasn’t cussin’ because everyone had one...even fleas?” she replied.
A smile crossed Clint’s face as he agreed with the way she was handling this.
“Well yeah, but when you say it, it sounds like cussin’.”
“So, it’s okay for you to say it because you don’t think it sounds like cussin’?”
“Well...yeah. When a fella says it...it’s--”
She’d assumed a stern look in her eye. “Go on Chad. Tell me why it’s alright for you, but not for me. Go on...I’m listening.” She placed her hands on her hips and tapped a toe.
“Well gee, Ma. I can’t rightly say why. It’s just that sometimes a word sounds okay and sometimes it don’t.”
Her expression softened. “That’s exactly my point, Chad.” She stopped the toe and placed her hands on his upper arms. “Some words are good words, but sound bad depending on how they’re used. You understand what I’m saying, Chad?” She moved a hand to the side of his face, caressing it.
“Yessum, I do Ma. I understand what you’re sayin’...an’ I’m sorry I used a good word in a bad way.” He looked at his pa holding Becky, then looked back at his ma. “But it’s still true Ma...fleas do have butts. How else would they keep their back legs apart?”
Sue smiled and placed both arms around him. She drew him to her and gave him a hug.
Clint noticed he was getting near as tall as her shoulders.
“Yes son, I guess you have a point there,” she said, still hugging him. She turned him around and patted him on his leg-separator. “Now git! You and Rebecca go out and play. Lunch’ll be ready directly.”
Clint lifted Becky off his lap. “You go on now...go with Chad. He’ll show you the mountain lion he kilt awhile ago.”
“Really? Chad...you kilt a lion? Oh, I wanna see it! Come on! Let’s go see the lion! Well come on!” she ordered over her shoulder as she ran out of the room. A few seconds later, the screen door banged shut behind them.
Sue stood in front of the bay window watching their children disappear around the side of the house. She had her hands on her hips and was shaking her head slowly. “What’re we gonna do with that boy?” she wondered out loud.
“We’re not gonna do anything with that boy, Sue,” he said softly and smiled at her. “He’s a good boy and you know it. Come to think of it...by my way of thinkin’ this whole family’s in pretty good shape.”
She smiled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Come here, Sue.” He held his arms out to her. “I got me an empty spot on my lap here.”
Sue smiled and went to him.
*
Sue’d been married once before to a fella named Tom Bartlett. About a year and a half after they were married, Tom had been found dead down in a valley just to the east of the buttes. Although it had generally looked like an accident, some folks, including Sue, thought there might’ve been some foul play involved.
Some five or six months after Tom’s death, Clint had showed up. And with the help of Jimmy and Sue’s father, Jason Hobbs-he was the local sheriff at the time--they’d uncovered a plot by an unscrupulous banker, named Arthur Rhodes, to run ranchers out of the Arkansas Valley and buy up their properties at a cut-rate price.
As it turned out, Rhodes wanted the right-of-ways on certain properties because he’d gotten word that the railroad was coming through these parts. As it all turned out, he’d also ordered Tom’s death.
It was now nine years later and the railroad still hadn’t made it this far west, but word was that it was now finally on its way.
*
Sue lowered herself onto Clint’s lap. She draped her arms around his neck and smiled into his soft, green eyes. “I love you, Clint Blackman,” she said tenderly and kissed him on the lips. “I love you more and more each day.”
“I truly do admire yer taste in men, Mrs. Blackman. Now give me a kiss like you mean what you say.”
She did.
“Wow!” he exclaimed as they drew apart. “You still got it, old girl.”
“Of course I’ve still got it,” she said, rising. “And what’dya mean...old girl? Folks listenin’ to you’d think I was twice my age.”
She’d just turned thirty-one and he was thirty-five.
Constance appeared from the kitchen and announced, “Lunch...she is ready!”
Constance Valdez had been with the ranch right from the start. Some said she’d come with the land grant way back in ’48.
“Thanks, Constance,” Sue replied and offered her hand to Clint to help him out of the easy chair. “Come on old man,” she said pulling him up. “Lord knows I’ll never be old as long as I have you around,” she teased.
Constance went out onto the front porch and rang the triangular-shaped piece of iron that hung from the corner. That was the signal that called everyone within earshot to the house at mealtime, or whenever else there was a pressing need to get them there in a big quick hurry.
Chad and Rebecca were the first to arrive, as usual. They took their regular places at the table and waited impatiently for the fellas to arrive.
“You two wash your hands?” Sue asked, eyeing them suspiciously.
“Yessum,” they responded in unison. They held them up for her to see. After they had managed to just barely pass her inspection, they put them back down in their laps.
“Sure do wish them fellas’d hurry,” Chad said. “I could eat me a skunk right about now.”
Clint smiled and hid it behind his hand. That was one of his sayin’s and Sue didn’t much like it when he said it...let alone Chad sayin’ it.
“Chad Blackman? What’s got into you? That’s no way to be talking at the table,” she said while wagging an admonishing finger at him.
“Well, Pa says it.”
Clint assumed his place at the table and cleared his throat.
“Just because your pa doesn’t have any table manners, doesn’t give you the right to say it.” She looked at Clint and squinted a reprimanding eye at him.
“Yessum,” Chad said and looked down. “But I could,” he mumbled.
The last of the fellas finally arrived and took their customary places. Two Buffalos was very special to Clint and Sue so he got the other end of the table, opposite Clint.
Clint said the blessing and they dug in.
“Pa? Pass me a hunk a that skunk,” Chad said and snuck a sideways glance at his ma.
She tilted her face to the heavens, closed her eyes and slowly shook her head.
“Why me, Lord? Why me?” she asked, softly.
*
George reined up at the Drake place and dismounted. While he was tying up, Emily emerged out onto the front porch. Nathaniel stayed close to his ma and peeked out from around behind her. He was seven and a mite puny for his age.
“Howdy, Emily,” George said, tipping his hat.
“Hello George. What brings you down here?”
“Is Jimmy around?”
“He’s over at the pens.” She pointed. “Is this something private or can we come along?”
“Sure can. Come on, this concerns the both a ya. Howdy, Nate. How you doin’, boy?” George inquired and reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair.
Nathaniel pulled back behind his ma and whined his disapproval.
“Now Nathaniel...George ain’t trying to hurt ya none,” she said. “You be a gentleman now an’ shake his hand.”
Nathaniel whined again and bolted into the house.
“I just don’t know what to do about that boy. He sure is skittish,” she said, shaking her head in pure wonderment.
Jimmy emerged through the gate as they arrived at the pens. He closed the gate and slid the latch. Turning toward them, he stuck out his hand. “Howdy, George. What brings you all the way down here?”
Jimmy was a small man, but only in stature. Since he’d been saved by the grace of God, just before marrying Emily, his heart had grown to be as big as all outdoors. He stood about five-five or six and had managed to put on a few pounds over the years to about 130. He was handsome enough, and what with him being an ex-gunfighter, he was a good fella to have on your side during a ruckus.
George took the hand momentarily. “Clint asked me ta ride down an’ let you folks know that Chad ’n Two Buffalos kilt a lion over by the buttes. Figgered you might be interested seein’s how it’s so close by your place.”
“Boy, I’ll say. I found me another dead ewe two days back. That maybe explains what’s been gettin’ ’em. I figured maybe it was coyotes been killin’ ’em an’ chewin’ on ’em. What with the ground being so dry ’n hard, I couldn’t find no sign one way or t’other.” Jimmy looked at his wife. “Lunch about ready, Em?”
“Yes...just about.”
“You eat yet George?”
“No, cain’t say as I have.”
“Good. What say we go get us a bite then?”
Chapter 3
The next day was a special one for the Drakes and Blackmans; it was Sunday, the Lord’s day. That is to say, it was special for all the Blackmans except one.
Chad didn’t much care for church and didn’t even try to keep it a secret. “But, Ma, do I hafta go?” he whined.
She stood with both fists perched on her hips. She and Clint had never forced their religious beliefs on the children. It was just that they were both born-again Christians and she figured Chad was getting to the age where he should be more receptive to the gospel and salvation.
He tried again, “Maybe I should stay here an’ protect the ranch in case Injuns attack...or somethin’.”
“Chad Blackman...Indians haven’t been attacking anywhere near this ranch since way before Rebecca was born. You’re going to church and that’s the end of it.” She turned with finality and left the room.
“Yes ma’am.” She heard him say.
Sue entered their bedroom just as Clint was putting the finishing touches on combing his hair. He watched her reflection in the mirror as she sat on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands. He put down the comb and turned around. “Sue? Honey? What’s the matter?”
She looked up and brushed at the mistiness in her left eye. “Oh...it’s that son of yours again.”
“What’d he do wrong this time?” he asked, as he sat next to her. He wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.
She smiled a smile she really didn’t feel and leaned her forehead against his. “He hasn’t really done anything wrong.” She pulled back and looked up at him. “It’s just that...Clint…” she sighed heavily, “why doesn’t he like to go to church and why doesn’t he love the Lord Jesus the same’s we do?” The tears welled up again, giving her good cause to sniffle and wipe a fist under her nose.
He pulled her to his chest and patted her lightly on the back. “Sue, if I had the answer to why some folks loved Jesus an’ why some folks didn’t, why I ’spect I could make me ’bout a million dollars er two.”
She lifted the side of her face from his chest and looked up into his steady gaze. “Clint, please don’t make light of this. I feel we owe it to Chad to get him to understand how important it is to be saved...how important it is to know he’ll go to heaven someday.”
The pleading in her eyes was almost more than he could bear. He felt a lump building up somewhere near the back of his throat. He swallowed hard and managed to gain a good measure of control before he spoke. “You’re right, Sue. This is one problem that me ’n the boy’ll just hafta work out.”
“How are you going to make him understand? Just tellin’ him won’t get it done. He just doesn’t place any importance on it.”
He looked at his wife and continued to share her despair. “I just don’t know, Sue...I just don’t know.” He rose and went to the window. He clasped a hand with the other in the small of his back and gazed out toward the barn and corral. He stood there for a few moments, deep in thought.
She remained seated on the edge of the bed, also trying to figure the best way to handle the situation.
He nodded slowly as the answer came to him. He turned to face her, smiled, and said, “Well, Sue, I reckon maybe it’s about time I told him my life’s story.”
“Oh Clint...no, don’t,” she pleaded. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. He may not understand.”
“Sue, listen to me. He’s old enough and it’s time he knew.”
“But what if he holds it against you?”
“Well, then it’ll just hafta be that way, but with the good Lord willin’...he’ll understand.”
She rose and went to him. They held each other for a moment. “I guess you know what you’re doing.” She sighed and kissed him on the cheek. “At least, I hope you do,” she added and turned to the table that held the basin of water. She washed the tears from her face and dried with a towel. She smiled at him. “Why are you always right?” she asked and playfully threw the towel at him, landing it against his face.
It fell and he caught it in both hands. “Don’t rightly know.” He smiled at her. “I reckon it must be my natural good looks and captivatin’ personality.” He tossed the towel onto the bed. Reaching out to her, he grasped her hand and pulled her into his arms. “Sue, I want you to know that there are times that I’m not always right. Now, I know that that may be a mite hard to believe, but--”
A smile appeared on his face as she interrupted him. “Oh...is that right?” she teased, and assumed a put-on quizzical look.
“Fact is, though, this ain’t one of ’em. The Lord give me this answer and He’ll help me when the time comes.”
They walked from the room hand-in-hand.
*
The ride into town was troubling for Clint. He periodically looked at Chad riding next to him in the buggy. He wondered if he’d have the words when it came time for his talk with him. Finally, he offered the reins to him. “Here, you wanna drive?”
“Gee, thanks, Pa...you bet!” Chad beamed, and accepted the reins. He weaved them through his fingers same’s his pa did and smiled up at him.
Clint smiled back and winked.
Chad drove the rest of the way into town while Clint enjoyed watching him do a man’s job. He was pleased at how well the boy handled the buggy. As Chad did a tolerable job of guiding the gelding into the churchyard, Jimmy waved a greeting.
“Hi, Uncle Jimmy!” Chad said hauling back on the reins. “Whoa, Jason!” He pulled harder. “Whoa!”
The buggy slowed to a stop and Clint hopped down and tied Jason to the hitchrail.
“Uncle Jimmy, did ya see? Pa let me drive most a the way today,” he beamed and nearly busted right out of his suspenders as the pride he felt at his accomplishment caused him to puff up just about the same as the cheeks on a tree squirrel that was doin’ his best to stock up with acorns for the coming winter.
“Yeah, I kin see that. How’d ya manage ta talk him inta lettin’ ya?”
“Beats me...musta been my natural good looks and captivatin’ personality, I reckon.” He smiled, and looked at his pa.
Clint grinned back.
“Howdy Clint...Sue,” Jimmy said and tipped his hat to Sue. “Clint, I swear...if I didn’t know no better I’d think that boy was a eight-year-old version of you.” He glanced at his own son standing partially hidden behind Emily. He was secretly wishing that Nate was more’n just a shade or two like Chad.
“You may not be far off, Jimmy. Mornin’ Emily, you’re lookin’ fit,” Clint observed, and kissed her on the cheek. “Mornin’ Nate.” Clint ruffled the boy’s hair.
Nate pulled away and hid behind his ma.
“Mornin’ Clint...mornin’ Sue,” Emily said. Grabbing ahold of Nathaniel, she tugged him out from behind her.
“Good morning Emily,” Sue said. “We’re going to go pay our respects to the pastor,” she announced and reached for Rebecca’s hand. “You coming, Emily? Oh wait...here comes father.” She looked past Emily at Jason and Sarah Hobbs, who were approaching on foot.
*
Back in ’69, when Jason was still sheriff, he and his deputy, Wylie Gaines, had been ambushed by Arthur Rhodes’ men after they’d gotten too close to figgerin’ out Rhodes’ plot to snatch-up the lands up ’n down the valley. Doc Riley had pretty much blown Arthur Rhodes apart while he was attempting to finish the job on Jason. The sheriff had lain mortally wounded in the doc’s office at the time.
Wylie was killed in the ambush and Jason was shot up pretty bad. Doc Riley did a fine job of patching him up and he recovered well enough to get by, but not well enough to remain the sheriff. The wounds still caused him problems. He now walked with a pronounced limp and had a permanent cric in his neck that tilted his head a mite to the right.
Jason had retired as sheriff, about a month after the shooting, and had asked Mayor Harper to make his new deputy, Carl Titus, the sheriff. Carl had taken to it like a duck does to water and did a more’n tolerable job. He remained sheriff to this day.
Jason had saved up a tidy sum of money over the years and was able to buy the house on the east edge of town that had once belonged to Arthur Rhodes. Nowadays, the east edge of town was quite a piece further east than it was back then.
Sarah Manchester, who had been the assistant manager of the bank under Rhodes, became manager upon his death and helped Jason get a real good deal on the house. In fact...he got it for next to nothing. They both figured that that was only right, and justice had prevailed.
Jason and Sarah became good friends after that and started seeing a lot of one another. Jason’s first wife, Sue’s mother, had also been named Sarah. This caused him some inner turmoil and it wasn’t ’til six years later that Sue had finally convinced him that it was alright for him to marry another Sarah.
*
“Hello, Sarah,” Sue said, cordially, and affectionately added a hug to the greeting.
Sarah Hobbs was fifty-years-old and a little on the plump an’ lumpy side. She had a kind, matronly sort of face that suggested the presence of unlimited understanding. Her hair was completely gray and worn pulled back in a bun. She was a quiet sort, and accepted the greeting with not much more than a smile.
“Good morning, Daddy.” Sue affectionately kissed her father on his cheek.
If Sarah Hobbs was considered plump, then it’d be fair to say that Jason Hobbs was downright fat. His hair was also gray, what there was left of it. His face was round, which matched the rest of his body very nicely. He had managed to retain bushy eyebrows and a mustache to match. He was pushing sixty and was feeling every bit of it.
He returned the kiss. “Hello, sweetheart.”
Chad had been over by the church steps when he’d spied his grandpa. He ran as fast as he could and slid to a stop, narrowly missing crashing into the old man. “Grandpa? I kilt me a lion yesterday!” he blurted, eagerly.
“You did what?”
Nate had easily overheard what Chad had said and his mouth flew open in disbelief at the thought of Chad meetin’ up with a lion and still being here to tell about it. His astonishment was evident as his eyes appeared to grow to nearly twice their normal size.
Chad easily spied the look in Nate’s eyes. “You should come see the hide sometime, Nate.” The truth be known, Chad didn’t have much use for Nate. He was a sissy and that just plain went against the grain. Chad was friendly enough towards him, though, but mainly cuz his ma made him.
“Could I really?” Nate asked, after managing to get his surprise and admiration a bit more under control. He looked at Jimmy with pleading eyes. “Pa...c-could I?”
“We’ll see, son, but I ’spect so.”
“Gee thanks, Pa!”
“I said...we’d see.”
“Yes, Pa.” Nate felt deflated and lowered his gaze to where he was stirring a circle in the dirt with the toe of his boot.
“Come on, Sarah,” Sue said, reaching out to her. “Let’s let the men talk.”
Sue, Emily, and Sarah headed off toward the church, clutching their Bibles against their bosoms. Rebecca tagged along behind.
“How’d ya kill this lion, Chad?”
“I stuck her with a arrow, Grandpa. Not more’n ten or fifteen feet away. “Me ’n Charlie Two Buffalos kilt her. I was face-ta-face with her and weren’t even scared. Well...maybe just a little, right when she started ta come after me so’s she could eat me up.”
Nate’s mouth dropped open again as he imagined the danger Chad must have been faced with. No way I coulda done that, he thought. He looked at Chad and wished he could be more like him.
“Kinda low for cats this early in the season, ain’t it?” Jason asked, looking first at Clint, then Jimmy.
“Sure nuf,” Jimmy responded. “That’s what we figgered, too.”
Clint joined in the conversation, “Two Buffalos seems to think it could mean we’ll be slapped with a heavy winter. He figgers the cats are comin’ down because the mountains are already deep with snow.”
“I been losin’ some sheep to ’em already,” Jimmy said. “Thought maybe it was coyotes gettin’ ’em, but now it looks as though it’s most likely been cats all along.”
Clint noticed Sue beckoning him with a wave. “Reckon we’d best git,” he said as he acknowledged her with a wave of his own.
They joined the women and proceeded into the church where they took their places in their regular pews.
The preaching was good and the singing was good. Clint and Sue both received a blessing...they usually did. Chad and Rebecca fidgeted the whole time and were glad when it was time for the invitation. They knew that as soon as the invitation was finished, they would be able to go outside and play while the grown-ups visited with one another.
Pastor Pringle gave the invitation for anyone with the need to come forward and accept Jesus into their heart and into their life, or for just anyone else who might have a burden and needed to talk with the Lord.
Clint looked at Sue and reached for her hand. He squeezed it and smiled. Picking up his Bible, he made his way out into the aisle. He walked to the front of the church and knelt facing the altar. He clutched the Bible in both hands as he prayed for God to give him the words to say to Chad about the importance of being saved. He also asked the Lord to open Chad’s mind and heart and help the boy to accept what he had to tell him and not hate him for it.
Sue watched as her husband prayed. She felt she had a fairly good idea what he was praying about. She choked up and cried first inside, then the tears welled up and finally spilled over. She moved out into the aisle and went forward. She knelt beside him. Placing her hand in his, she held it while she too prayed the same prayer, almost word for word.
When they’d finished, they returned to their pew, hand-in-hand.
Chad watched them come back and wondered why they had tears in their eyes.
Clint looked down at him and placed a hand behind his son’s neck, giving it a gentle squeeze in the process.
The custom of the church was to have one of the members close the meeting with a prayer. As Pastor Pringle looked around the congregation, his gaze met Clint’s. Clint gave a slight nod and the pastor smiled. “Brother Blackman? Would you please close us out with a word to the Lord?”
Clint bowed his head and collected his thoughts. “Dear Heavenly Father,” he began, “we thank You Lord for bringing us together today. We thank You for our pastor, David Pringle, and the ability You’ve given him to bless us each week. But most of all Lord, we thank You for our families and loved ones.” He paused to collect his thoughts again. “And Father, we ask that if there’s anyone here today that doesn’t know You as their personal Saviour¼that You’ll speak to their heart and put them under conviction to accept You into their life.” He placed an arm around Chad’s shoulder. “We ask these things through Jesus Christ, our Lord¼amen.”
As the “Amens” sounded and died throughout the congregation, Sue wiped a tear and slipped an arm around Clint’s waist. She gave him a gentle hug. “I love you, Mr. Blackman,” she whispered into his ear and brushed it lightly with her lips.
Chapter 4
After the meeting had let out the grown-ups gathered around in small groups in front of the church, while the children ran off to play. Nate stayed with his pa, mainly because the rest of the kids called him a sissy and made fun of him.
As Clint removed his suit coat and handed it to Sue, Jimmy asked, “So you figger maybe a hard winter this year, huh?”
Sue folded the coat and placed it neatly on the buggy seat.
“That’s what Two Buffalos seems to think,” Clint said and pulled on one end of his bow tie. The bow fell apart and he unbuttoned the collar.
“Sure hope not,” Jimmy replied. “But if’n it does happen, I reckon we’ll deal with it alright enough. You figgerin’ there might be more’n one a them cats around?”
“Never can tell. Don’t see why not,” Clint reasoned. “Anyways, I’m gonna be keepin’ a sharp eye out. Wouldn’t want ’em gettin’ to the herd.”
“That’s not such a bad idea. I’ll keep a eye out, too,” Jimmy agreed. “Leastways ’til we’re sure how many of ’em there is prowlin’ around,” he added.
“I’ll send one a the boys out once in awhile to look for sign,” Clint suggested. “We’ll let you know if we spot anything that might indicate more of ’em.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jimmy said. He patted his stomach. “Now what say we go put on the feedbag?”
“Yeah, I could eat me a skunk right about now.” He looked at Sue. She rolled her eyes and shook her head in resignation.
“You all go on over to the cafe and I’ll round up the kids an’ meet you there,” Clint said. He turned and started toward the back of the church where he’d last seen the children head.
Eating Sunday lunch at the cafe was getting to be somewhat of a tradition with them. They figured it gave Sarah and Emily a small break from the daily chore of fixing lunch. Clint knew that Connie appreciated it, as well.
As Clint rounded the corner of the building his attention was drawn to a commotion. The sounds of children’s excited voices were unmistakable. They were yelling and encouraging a fight. “Chad! Becky!” he called. Doggone it Chad...not again, he thought even before he knew for sure who was involved. He saw a group of about ten or twelve kids gathered around in a circle, encouraging the two combatants. He could see that Oscar Haines was flat on his back and Chad was sitting astride his chest. He had both of Oscar’s arms pinned firmly under his knees.
“Do ya give?” Chad asked, as he held a threatening fist right in front of Oscar’s face.
“No...I don’t give. And yer horse still has a funny name.”
With that, Chad punched him square in the nose. A small amount of blood appeared and Chad repeated the question, “Now do ya give?” he asked the now-crying boy.
“Chad! That’s about enough!” Clint ordered as he pushed through the circle of children. He snatched Chad up off the other youngster.
Oscar scrambled to his feet and sobbed, “I’m tellin’ my pa!” He ran off crying with a protective palm shielding his nose.
“What’s going on here? What’s this all about?” Clint asked as the rest of the children, except for Becky, scattered. “Becky, you go on over to the cafe and we’ll be along directly...soon’s I find out what this is all about.”
“Yes, Pa.” She skipped off toward the corner of the church, chanting in time to her pace, “Chad’s...in...trou...ble. Chad’s...in...trou...” She was soon out of sight.
“Now son, what’s this all about?”
“Pa, he said Washtub had a funny name.”
“And you figger that’s worth fightin’ over?”
“Yessir, I surely do!”
Clint admired the boy’s spunk and fought the urge to smile. “Chad...son, listen to me.” He hooked a knuckle under Chad’s chin and lifted.
The look on the boy’s face was pathetic and it was all Clint could do to keep from hugging him.
“Chad...sometimes a fella has to let some things run off his back, same’s water run’s off a duck’s back.” He held Chad by the shoulders. “Do you understand what I’m tellin’ ya?”
“No sir, I don’t. That’s my horse he was talkin’ about and I figger it’s up ta me ta see that no one makes fun a him.”
“You’re right, son...in a way. Remember when Washtub was just a foal and you gave him that name?”
“Yessir.” The beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of Chad’s mouth as he recalled that summer day.