Confessions of a Gunfighter (19 page)

Chapter forty-seven

Ross spat out his chaw of tobacco when he saw that Rachel was coming too. 

Suddenly, I felt guilty. Who was I, to be here under a false name wanting a job with these honest and good folks?

I didn’t know what to do, but luckily Ross spoke up as they walked up. 

“Boss, this here feller calls himself Joe Lenders. I found him over at our line cabin.”

Ross then told Mr. Tomlin about me being a-foot, and also about seeing me ride the tall sorrel. 

“And he’s looking for a job,” Ross finished. 

Mr. Tomlin turned to me, and his hard, thoughtful eyes studied me coolly. 

“Well now, I never thought I’d see the day that somebody would come riding in on that sorrel. I see some mean spur marks on him. You always break a horse like that?”

“No sir, when I have the time I break ’em nice and slow like,” I replied honestly. “Sometimes you’ve got to get a little rough to get their attention, but not always.” 

My comment pleased him. But still, he wasn’t quite satisfied, especially when he noticed the way I wore my six-shooter. 

“Is there any particular reason why you wear your gun like that?” Mr. Tomlin spoke boldly and direct.

I didn’t want to lie. So, I chose my words carefully.

“Well, sir, that’s the way I was taught to wear ’em.”

“Hmm,” Mr. Tomlin said as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Can you shoot?’

“Only when I have to,” I replied truthfully.

“You work for me and it might come to that,” Mr. Tomlin warned.

“Oh?” I asked.

“You might as well know what you’re getting into,” Mr. Tomlin said. “I’m an ex-Rebel, and proud of it. Our current government ain’t too cordial to ex-Rebels.”

“Think there’ll be trouble?” I asked.

“It’s coming,” Mr. Tomlin said. “The government’s choking us. Folks won’t take it much longer.”

I thought on that.

“Well, sir, my Pa was a proud ol’ Rebel too. If you’ll hire me, then I’d be right proud to work for you.”

Mr. Tomlin chuckled. 

“All right, Joe, we’ll give you a try. I’ve got a lot of colts that need starting soon.”

“Sounds good, sir,” I grinned.

“Ross is the straw boss. He’ll show you where to put your things.” 

Mr. Tomlin started to walk away, but on second thought he turned back. 

“Oh, and this is my daughter Rachel.”

Rachel looked up and smiled, and suddenly I felt weak, because that smile was the prettiest thing I had ever seen. 

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” I managed to say.

Rachel nodded back, but before she could say anything Mr. Tomlin thought of something else. 

“Joe, there’s one other thing I should add. My wife and I are good Christian folks, and while I don’t require the men that work for me to share my beliefs, I do demand that they watch their language and mind their manners. I don’t tolerate any drinking neither.”

“I understand, sir,” I said quickly. “All I want is to earn my keep.”

“Then we’ll get along just fine,” Mr. Tomlin said, and then he and Rachel turned and walked back to the house. 

As they left Rachel smiled at me, and I got that weak feeling again.

I turned to Ross, and he was grinning at me. 

“Told you he was tough,” he said as we led our horses to the barn. 

“Seems like it,” I agreed.

We unsaddled our horses, and then Ross showed me where to stow my gear.

For the rest of the afternoon I got myself settled in. After that I helped Ross with the nightly chores, and then it was time for supper. 

We washed up and went up to the main house.

Supper was ready, and as I sat down at the dinner table Ross introduced me to Buster and Mrs. Tomlin.

Buster was a smaller man, and he looked to be in his mid-forties. His leg was in a splint, and he was having a hard time getting around.

Mrs. Tomlin was a jovial, good natured woman, and she was all smiles and laughter as she hustled about serving us supper. She was a very good cook, and I ate heartily along with everybody else.  

Everybody was in a good mood, and they all joked and kidded around with each other. They made me feel right at home, and I found myself having a real good time. 

Every once in a while I would look up and see Rachel studying me. But when I looked back, she would glance away.  

After supper I drifted out onto the front porch with the rest of the men. After a while Mrs. Tomlin and Rachel joined us, and then we sat around and talked for a while.

I told everybody that I had stayed with Mr. Hardin, and Mr. Tomlin looked interested when I told them about the Yankee patrol that had come by.

“Those soldiers showed up at Empty-lake about a month ago, giving orders and bossing folks around,” Mr. Tomlin said. “I haven’t met Lieutenant Porter yet, but I’ve heard that he isn’t very sociable.”

“No, sir, he isn’t,” I said.

“I’ll tell you what we need,” Mr. Tomlin went on. “What we need again are the Texas Rangers. That would fix things!”

I didn’t know much when it came to politics, so I just agreed back. 

“Papa, you’re fixing to get yourself all worked up,” Rachel cut in suddenly.

Mr. Tomlin shot his daughter a dark look, but then he smiled. 

“I’m sorry; I reckon we should talk about something else.”

Rachel changed the subject. She turned to me and started asking all sorts of questions, and before I knew it I was telling them about our farm back east, and also about how Pa and Elliot had been killed. But I didn’t tell them about me being an outlaw, or that I had killed three men. 

I knew if Mr. Tomlin ever found out who I really was that he would probably send me packing, and I sure didn’t want that to happen. I really liked these folks, and I felt almost at home here.

As for Ross Stewart, he seemed to be the sort of fellow you would want to ride with. He was calm and collected, and he also seemed to be a very good hand. 

I could tell that he still hadn’t made up his mind about me, because all evening long he would suddenly stop me and ask me a question or two, as if he was still trying to figure me out.

In a way, I envied Ross. If I hadn’t gotten involved with Kinrich I might have turned out to be a feller just like Ross. 

As for Rachel, well, she was something else. I really liked being around her, and I suspected that Ross liked being around her too. 

But I had no business thinking anything special could ever happen. I was an outlaw and a killer, and she was real lady. She deserved someone better, someone like Ross Stewart.

Ross, however, had other ideas.

Later that night me and Ross were alone in the bunkhouse. I was making my bed when Ross looked over at me.   

“I think Miss Rachel took a liking to you tonight,” Ross said, and there was a touch of envy in his voice.

I finished making my bed and pulled my shirt off. 

“Naw, I don’t think so. Fact is, I thought she was shining up to you.”

I turned and looked over at Ross, and he was studying my gunshot scars. 

“Looks like you’ve took some lead,” he nodded towards my shoulder.

Ross wanted an explanation, but I didn’t offer one. 

Instead, I replied simply, “Yeah, I did.”         

After that, I crawled into bed.

Ross meanwhile, just sat there on the edge of his bed, and he stared at me thoughtfully.  

“Goodnight,” I said as I rolled over.

“Sure,” Ross said slowly. 

Ross sat there a while longer, and then he finally went to bed.

As for me, I was thinking one thing: 

That Ross; he was a good man, and I liked him a lot.

But he sure was thinking too much.

Chapter forty-eight

I didn’t go to sleep for a long time. There were a lot of things on my mind, and as I lay there I tried to sort everything out.

My main problem was Palmer. He was still out there somewhere, and he could show up at any moment and expose me. 

I figured Palmer would probably be looking for me in town, so I decided that I would try my best to just stay on the ranch. Hopefully, he would lose my trail and drift on.

I also thought some more about Lieutenant Porter, and the trouble that seemed to be coming.

I finally decided that there was nothing I could do about it. I was just a hired hand, and I would do whatever I was told.

However, this time I felt like I was on the right side of things, and that made me feel better.

We rode out early the next morning to go gather up some cattle that had drifted off our range. 

That is, all but Ross. He joined us mid-morning, and when he saw me he loped over.

“Say, I was wondering,” Ross said. “Just how exactly did your hoss die?”

I was unprepared for this question, and it took me a second or two to reply. 

“Uh, he stepped into a gopher hole and broke his leg,” I finally said. “I had to shoot him.”

“Is that right?” Ross asked softly, and then he rode away.

Ross had a thoughtful look on his face, and I was worried. But we were coming up on some cattle, so I had to forget about it as we got to work.

A few days later, Ross and Buster went into town in a buckboard to get some supplies. They returned later that afternoon, and I helped Ross stow away all the supplies.

While we worked Ross was quiet, and I could tell that something was on his mind.

Finally, Ross looked over at me. 

“There was a stranger in town a while ago.”

I froze, and my heart started beating wildly. 

“Oh?” I asked as I tried to look calm.

“He was asking around, saying that he was looking for somebody. He described the feller he was looking for, and it sounded a lot like you,” Ross said, and he watched me closely.

“Is that so?” I asked, and I could feel sweat running down my face. “Did he mention his name?”

“Said his name was Palmer,” Ross replied. “I didn’t like the looks of him, so I didn’t say anything.”

“I’m glad,” I said, relieved. “If he showed up here he might cause trouble.”

“When we were leaving town I saw him talking to Roy Shaw, and it seemed like they were really enjoying each other’s company,” Ross commented.

I was worried, and I’m sure the look on my face showed it.

“There’s another thing I might mention,” Ross continued. “As you’ve probably already figured out, I’m a mighty curious feller. Now, I wanted to see for myself how your hoss died. So, while ya’ll were looking for them cows I rode out to have a look, and what I found were two bullet holes in your hoss. One bullet hole was where you had put him down like you said, but the other shot came from a long ways off. And you know something? All four of them hoss’s legs were just fine.”

Ross paused, and then he continued. 

“Now, my guess is that this Palmer feller ambushed you in that valley. He shot your hoss and nicked you, but you still got away. And now, he’s trying to find you again. Am I right?”

I swallowed hard and nodded.

“Just who is this Palmer feller?” Ross asked.

“He’s a thorn in my side,” I replied. “He’s been hunting me for a while now.”

“Why?” Ross wanted to know.

“I wish I could tell you, Ross, but I just can’t,” I replied wistfully.

Ross frowned thoughtfully. 

“Well, suit yourself. But if Palmer shows up here, you’re on your own. I ain’t getting myself involved until I know all the facts.

“But know this,” Ross said. “The Tomlins are like family to me, and I ain’t going to let any harm come to them. Now, you want us to think that you’re just some drifting cow-puncher, but there’s a lot of things that don’t add up. For starters, you have the look of a gunfighter, and you have the bullet scars to prove it.”

“Have you ever thought about becoming a Pinkerton man?” I asked with a shaky grin. “You sure do think like one.”

“Mebbe someday I will,” Ross replied seriously. “But right now, I’m just going to focus in on you. Sooner or later I’m going to figure out who you really are. Until then, I’m going to be keeping a mighty close eye on you.”      

Ross walked off and left me there alone. 

I was worried that he would say something to Mr. Tomlin. But I don’t reckon he did, because that evening during supper everything seemed normal, and even Ross acted friendly. 

We turned in early, and daylight found us saddled and ready to ride. 

We rode out and gathered up all of Mr. Tomlin's two year old colts. It took us most of the day, but we finally got them penned at headquarters.

I would start breaking them the next morning.