Confessions of a Gunfighter (18 page)

Chapter forty-five

I figured I’d ridden about four or five miles, so that meant I still had seven or eight miles to go. That was sure a long distance to walk, but I had no choice.

I went three, maybe four miles, and that’s when I walked up to a little cabin. The cabin was nestled down in a little valley, and with me being a-foot I almost missed it.

I looked the layout over, and I figured that it must be a line cabin for Mr. Tomlin's ranch.

It was getting dark, so I decided that I’d sleep here for the night. I walked on down and went inside.

There was dust and cobwebs covering everything, so I decided that this cabin had been empty for some time. But I did find some canned goods on the shelves, and my stomach growled.

I went back outside and looked around some more before it got dark.

There was a small saddle-house, and there was also a small set of pole corrals.

I also noticed a dirt tank that was fenced in, and the tank was about half full with rain water. 

I was curious, so I walked over and looked for tracks.

I found just what I was hoping for. There, in the dirt by the tank, were fresh horse tracks made earlier in the day. That meant there were horses nearby, and to get water they had to come into the corrals!

That instantly improved my mood. All I had to do now was wait for the horses to come to water, and then I could catch a horse to ride.

But I wouldn’t be stealing him. No sir, all I wanted was to get over to the Tomlin's headquarters. If I didn’t get a job, then I would see if I could possibly buy whatever horse I was riding.

Money was the one thing I did have. Altogether I had over two thousand dollars, and that was a lot of cash for a feller to be carrying around in Texas.        

I went back to the cabin and rustled up some grub. I ate, and then I turned in. I was tuckered out after all that walking, and I slept hard.  

It was still dark when I woke up. I made some coffee, and as the sun was coming up I went outside and hid in the bushes. 

That sunlight felt real good, and I stretched out.

Soon as I did I fell asleep. But then, a few hours later, something startled me awake. 

I sat up abruptly, and I startled a big bunch of horses that had come in to water.

The horses made a run for it while I bounded up and over the fence. I reached the gate, and I was just about to swing it shut when the horses reached the opening.

The horses raced on through towards freedom. However, I did manage to swing the gate shut just before the last horse got through.

He was a tall, high headed sorrel, and he snorted and tore around the inside of the corral in protest.

I climbed up onto the top of the corrals and took a closer look.

There had been some older, broke horses that had gotten away, but I could tell that this horse wasn’t broke at all.

I didn’t have any time to waste, so I got to work.

The round pen joined up to the dirt tank, so I opened the gate and crowded him in. The sorrel didn’t like that, and he snorted and kicked out.

I closed the gate, and then I went over to my saddle and pulled my rope and hobbles off. 

As I shook out a loop I looked the round pen over thoughtfully.

There wasn’t any snubbing post like I’d had back home, and that was going to make things more difficult. So instead of necking him, I decided to forefoot him.

I walked out into the middle of the round pen, and the horse snorted and started running circles around me. I swung my rope and took a shot at his front legs.

I caught on my first loop. He fought like a wild cat, but I finally managed to get him down. Then, while he was still down, I slipped my hobbles onto his feet. 

After that I let him get back up, but he couldn’t move much on account of the hobbles. He didn’t like it, and he snorted and kicked out as he tried to free himself.

I left him there to figure it out while I went over to the gate and got my saddle and bridle.

By the time I got back he had quit fighting. He had no choice but to stand there while I rubbed and patted him all over. 

After that I slipped my bridle on. Next, I threw my saddle blanket on his back, and he jumped a bit, but that was all. Then, I quietly and quickly threw my saddle on, and after he settled back down I tightened my cinch and flank cinch. 

I kept a-hold of the reins as I bent over and took the hobbles off. 

The big sorrel just stood there, not knowing that his legs were free, and before he found out I stepped up on him.

All this was new to the sorrel, and he just stood there in confusion while I got myself settled in the saddle. But then, he suddenly broke in two with me. 

I knew right after he took that first jump that this was the roughest bucking bronc I had ever tried to ride before. His jumps were high and big, and each time he came down he rattled my insides.

Most broncs I’d ridden bucked nice and straight, but this horse sure didn’t. He bucked so crooked I couldn’t even see the ground, and when I did see the ground it was only for a split second, and then we would be off again on another huge jump.

At first I just tried to stay in the saddle. But then I started spurring him some, and I tried real hard to show him who was boss. 

After a while his jumps finally started getting lighter. Now he was still real mad, but he was also wearing himself out. And none too quick, for I was just about done in myself.

I was finally able to pull his head up, and we trotted roughly around the corral.

I had broken his free spirit, and while I had the best of him I figured I had best wear him out so he wouldn’t be forgetting it.

I started spurring him again, and he put his head back down and bucked some more. But these jumps weren’t near as hard. After a while I pulled his head back up, and he stopped bucking. 

I made him lope, and we didn’t stop for at least twenty minutes. We went round and round the inside of the round pen, and by the time I pulled him up he was breathing hard.

I got off and walked over to the fence. I’d let him cool down, but then I’d have to get back on.

Suddenly, I heard a faint noise from behind. 

Palmer was the first thing that came to mind, and I spun around with my six-shooter in hand.

Chapter forty-six

It wasn’t Palmer. 

Instead, it was a cowboy looking feller. He was beside the cabin sitting a-horseback, and he had a puzzled look on his face.

The cowboy rode on over when he saw that I had spotted him.

I looked him over. 

He was young, about my age. He had a tall and lanky frame, with dark, tanned skin and brown hair. He rode with ease, and I noticed that he wore his six-shooter low and tied down.

“Howdy,” he said with a deep southern drawl as he rested one hand on the top of the corral. “That there was one of the best bronc rides I’ve ever seen.”  

“You saw that?” I asked with a sheepish grin.

“Uh-huh,” he replied. “I saw it, all right. But, that’s not what I’m finding so interesting. What’s interesting is finding out why you would break somebody else’s hoss without asking him first.”

“I’ve got good reason for riding this horse,” I replied. 

“I’d sure like to hear it,” the cowboy said.

I told him about losing Slim, but I left out the part about Slim being shot and the shootout that I’d had with Palmer.  

The cowboy listened closely, and afterwards he seemed satisfied. 

“I reckon that seems reasonable,” he said. “I’m sorry I had to doubt you, but lately we’ve been having some trouble with hoss thieves and such.”

Lieutenant Porter came to mind.

“Oh?” I said thoughtfully, and then I added, “Well don’t worry, I’m no horse thief.” 

As I said it I felt guilty, because a year back me and Kinrich had stolen some horses up north. But, I figured this feller didn’t need to know that.

The cowboy nodded, and then continued.

“Matter of fact, one of our neighbors to the west just lost about thirty hosses. I was just helping them look for ’em.”

“Any luck?”

“Nope.”

I was now certain that Lieutenant Porter was a horse thief. But, I decided not to say anything. Now was not the time. 

“My name’s Ross Stewart,” the cowboy commented as he reached inside his shirt pocket and pulled out a plug of tobacco. “As you’ve probably already figured out, I ride for Craig Tomlin, and he’s the one who owns that hoss you just rode.”

“Any chance I might land a job with him?” I asked hopefully.

Ross frowned thoughtfully as he eyed his plug of tobacco.

“You just might be in luck. Feller named Buster usually breaks all the hosses, but a few days ago a hoss bucked him off and broke his leg. Now, Mr. Tomlin is sort-a picky on who he hires, but if you come riding into headquarters on that there hoss he would sure be impressed. That hoss has bucked everybody off in the outfit, including me.”

“Are you going there now?” I asked.

Ross nodded as he bit off a big wad of tobacco.

“Just as soon as I get the remuda rounded up. With all this hoss thieving going on, Mr. Tomlin wants our remuda closer to headquarters.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “Mind if I ride along?”

“Sure, come on. I could use the help,” Ross commented as he returned what was left of his tobacco to his shirt pocket. “By the way, I didn’t catch your name.”

I still wasn’t used to my new name, and it took me a second to remember it.

“Uh, my name’s Joe Lenders,” I replied awkwardly.

Ross raised an eyebrow. 

“Joe Lenders? Well now, that’s a name you’d remember. Where are you from, Joe?”

I shrugged. 

“Nowhere in particular. I’ve been lots of places.”

“Say, what happened to your shoulder?” Ross asked suddenly.

There was some dried blood on my shirt where Palmer had nicked me, and I had forgot all about it. 

“It’s nothing. Just a little scratch I got while riding through some brush,” I replied quickly, and then I changed the subject. “Well, let me get this bronc lined out again and then I’ll join you.”

I felt Ross’s curious eyes on me as I walked back over to the sorrel.

Maybe he had seen my hesitation when I told him my name, or maybe it was the way I wore my gun. Either way he was curious, and I could tell that he hadn’t made up his mind about me yet.

I grabbed the reins, and then I stepped back up on the sorrel.

Soon as I did, he put his head back down and went to bucking. But this time it wasn’t near as hard, and after a few minutes I had him lined out and going good. 

After that I grabbed my belongings from inside, and then me and Ross took out.

“Been riding for Mr. Tomlin long?” I asked Ross as we trotted along.

“Couple of years now,” Ross replied as he spit out a brown stream of tobacco. “And let me tell you, he’s a real good man to work for. He’s near fifty, but he’s in better shape than you and me ever thought about. He’s as tough as nails, but he’s also about the most decent man I’ve ever known. You’ll like him.”

“Sounds like it,” I replied. “So, what do you do?” 

“I ride the range and keep all of Mr. Tomlin's stock on his range and off’n everybody else’s,” Ross said. “I reckon it sounds easy, but let me tell you, it’s a full time job. There’s always something going where it shouldn’t be.”

“I’ll bet,” I commented. “How many cows does Mr. Tomlin run?”

“’Bout five hundred, give or take a few,” Ross replied. “He used to run more, but there just ain’t no money in it no more. He makes most his money off’n the hoss end.”

After that we didn’t talk much. 

It didn’t take us long to gather the horses, and then we got them lined out going westward.

The ranch headquarters was only a few miles away, and it made a pretty sight when we drove the horses down into the corrals.

I looked the headquarters over. 

The main house was long and big, and the pole corrals were well-kept and in good shape. I also noticed a real nice round pen with a snubbing post out in the middle, just like the one I’d had back home.

I noticed an older man and a young girl watching us from the porch of the main house. 

I figured the older man was Craig Tomlin, for he just had a way about him that told you he was the boss.

He had white hair, and his face was weathered and wrinkled. But his eyes were thoughtful and sharp, and he didn’t seem to miss a thing.

As for the girl; she was the prettiest thing I had ever seen, and I couldn’t help but stare at her. She had long, brown hair, and she also had sandy looking freckles that covered her face.

I turned around and saw Ross watching me with an amused look. 

“Her name’s Rachel,” he said. “She’s Mr. Tomlin's daughter.”

“Oh?” I asked innocently. “She seems nice.”

“She is,” Ross agreed quickly.

Mr. Tomlin and Rachel headed towards us. I could tell that Mr. Tomlin was looking me over, and I started getting nervous. 

Ross saw Mr. Tomlin coming, and he turned in the saddle and grinned at me.

“Well, I reckon we’ll find out now about that job you’re wanting,” Ross said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”