Dark Journey Home (33 page)

Olivia blushed a very becoming pink.  “Now that sounds
so crude……I couldn’t possibly……anyway, we……..we’re worlds apart.  It would
never work in a million years.” 

Bridgett went on, not in the least discouraged, “Who
now has a million years, I ask?  If you’re dreaming day and night of this
bloke, and believe me, Olivia, I have seen this Logan.  Quite a looker, that
one.  If you don’t latch onto him soon, some lonely lass will.  If I wasn’t so
madly in love with Garth, I’d go after ‘im myself.” 

“Really, Bridgett, really.”  Olivia was suddenly
speechless. 

“Oh come on now, Olivia.  Maria told us all about the
rose that was left on your door handle.  It’s obvious the man has strong
feelings for you too.”

Maria joined in, “I have told the Señorita, you
gringos have such a strange way of romance.  We Latinos, we don’t waste time
playing games.”

“Yes, Maria, of course.  And I have heard all about
your games with Ricardo, before you latched onto him.  Say no more.”  Olivia
retorted.

Marshal Rhodes was enjoying his second cup of coffee,
seated at his favorite table in the corner of the restaurant.  The weather was
clearing nicely outside; he hadn’t had to haul any drunks off to jail in almost
four days, and the bank had not been robbed in almost six months.  Life was
good.  Now he’d been put in the position of keeping watch over four lovely
ladies.  It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.

Rhodes
had been amused
by the lively conversation going on at the ladies’ table, he couldn’t hear what
was being said, but didn’t need to, as it was obviously a private
conversation.  Now getting back to his plans for the day, as well as keeping a
sharp eye on the ladies, should they venture outside. 

Rhodes
planned on
following the movements of a certain Henry Birch.  The man was obviously up to
no good, and Marshal Rhodes was nearing the point of putting him on the stage
going out of town, any which way it was headed.  Birch hadn’t shown his face
outside of the boardinghouse for several days now, but the marshal had spotted
him outside right after daylight, staring off in the direction of the hotel
where the ladies were staying.  It would pay to watch that fella closely. 

There was not much going on in Coyote Springs that the
marshal didn’t hear about, or see for himself.  Rhodes had watched from the
side restaurant window earlier, while the four men had ridden out of town, with
Logan leading on his sturdy roan gelding, and he’d noticed how Logan held his rifle across the saddle.  Smart man, that Logan Wakefield.  He’d seen
Attorney Phillips and Jinx Holderman, being loaded into the rented buggy, and
Holderman protesting about riding in the rig.  A gentle, but firm prod from the
double barrel of Garth’s shotgun, had gained Holderman’s full cooperation. 

Rhodes chuckled to himself, knowing that when this
thing was settled, Attorney At Law Phillips wouldn’t be practicing law anywhere
near this part of the territory again, and he seriously doubted the man would
get too many clients in the future; news tended to spread like wildfire in the
west, and surely the man’s reputation would precede him, wherever he went. 

At the Triple-B Ranch, Woody Perkins stood in the
parlor of the large ranch house, facing his daughter.  “You heard what?”  He
shouted, “Just what are you sayin’?” 

“You heard me, pa.  But I’ll say it again.”  Trudy sat
down on the settee, and said, “I just heard that you don’t really own this
ranch.  None of it.  Now where did that rumor come from?  Why are the hands
sayin’ things like that?  I happened to be outside the window of the bunkhouse,
an’ heard what they were sayin’.  They didn’t know I heard.  But Hank, the cook
was there, an’ I heard him say that ‘Maybe we should get Trudy out of the
house, before the shootin’ starts.’  What’s goin’ on pa?”  She looked up at her
father questioningly.

“Trust me, daughter.  I don’t know.  Only the other
day, when that attorney Phillips come out to the ranch, he said there’s been a
stranger in town, a foreigner.  Looked like he was fixin’ to try to steal this
ranch, maybe has some kind of fake claim.”  Perkins blustered, disgusted that
Trudy had to hear about this problem. 

“How could he?”  She was seriously worried.  “You
bought this ranch over ten years ago, all legal like too.  Even I remember
that, and I was just a kid.”  She wailed.

“That’s just it, daughter.  You don’t understand. 
That blasted Clayborne Phillips told me just the other day that he never done
recorded that deed at the county seat.  Never got around to it, he said.” 

“Maybe because it wasn’t a legitimate sale.  Is that
why, pa?  You do have that piece of paper in your safe, don’t you pa?  The
deed, you showed it to me yourself, years ago.”

“Course I do, Trudy.  Now don’t you worry your little
head about any of this.  I’m sure it will be straightened out, soon as
Holderman gets back from town.  I sent him to see Phillips early this morning;
he should be getting back any minute now, with good news.”  Perkins’ expression
denied the words.  He was worried, plenty. 

Trudy arose from the settee, and stared at her
father.  Did she even know this man? 

“Alright, daughter.”  Her father said, after a moment
of thought.  “I may as well admit it; we’re in trouble.  But, Trudy…don’t you
see?”  His eyes looked fierce, as he shouted, “Don’t you see, I did it for
you?”

Backing away, Trudy asked hesitantly, “What, pa?  What
did you do?”  She looked at him in horror. 

“I’ll fight.  I’ll get the hands together, and we’ll
fight, if they come here.”  He continued to shout. 

“You mean just like a range war?  Pa, what if one of
us gets killed?  Then what?”  She was angry, and scared.  She looked at her
father as if he was a stranger.  “Pa, just who is this stranger in town?”  She
asked.

“Why…..why, I don’t rightly know, just that Phillips
said he was some British gent, and just may be the one I bought the ranch from
many years ago.  Now, girl, don’t you look at your pa like that.  Don’t you go
against me.  That sale was legitimate, ah’ll swear to it, well anyway, the man
was already rich, an’ clear across the ocean.  Who’d know he’d travel this
far?  Huh, who?  It seemed like such a good deal at the time.  Don’t tell me
that you haven’t enjoyed buying new clothes all the time an’ havin’ money to
spend.”

“Oh, pa.”  She wailed, “Not with someone else’s
money.  I’ll never be able to hold my head up in town again.  We’ll have to leave
the territory.”  She turned and ran out of the room sobbing, and moments later,
Perkins heard the back door slam.

“Damn.”  He muttered.  “Just where the hell is
Holderman?” 

He walked over to the gun cabinet, took down two
rifles, then began checking the loads, after which he entered his study, and
went to the safe.  Moments later, he carried a satchel that had been stuffed
full with cash and paperwork, and set it just inside the parlor door, where
stood the two Winchesters leaning against the doorjamb, then returned to the
study, lifted his gun belt from the back of a chair, and strapped it around his
stocky midsection.  After a few moments of thought, he filled both front
pockets of his jeans with .45 caliber shells. 

In the bunkhouse, a situation was unfolding.  “I don’t
know why.”  Chester Burns, the sour-faced assistant foreman, was saying.  He
took over when Holderman was away.  “The boss’s orders.  Mr. Woody Perkins
hisself told me to get Smokey, Rusty, Cougar, an’ Bart McCain, maybe a few
others.” 

He looked at Butch Hogan, and said, “You go too. 
Might as well learn the trail.”  Butch, (Ranger Welby), smiled at this.  Chester went on, “I don’t question the boss, just take orders as they come.  Anyway, he
said for you, Hank, to get the chuck wagon ready, pronto.”  Hank nodded at this
order, then looked over at some of the other men thoughtfully.

Chester
didn’t notice
the exchange between the men, and continued, “You boys round up about a
thousand, or more, of the fattest steers, an’ head ‘em up north.  Either
Holderman, or Mr. Perkins himself, will ketch up in a couple days.  Don’t know
what’s goin’ on; I never question the boss.”  He turned to go, but a few words
from the newest hand, Butch Hogan, stopped him in his tracks.  Something about
the tone of his voice.  “Hold up there, Burns.”  Hogan had said.

Chester
turned to look
at the man, just as Hogan was pinning a silver star onto the left pocket of his
shirt.  It looked just like the type of badge the Texas Ranger’s wore.  “What…what’s
goin’ on?”  He questioned slowly.  Chester Burns frowned; he surely wouldn’t go
against a ranger badge for Perkins, or anyone else for that matter. 

Ranger Welby stated in no uncertain terms, “I’m Texas
Ranger Jake Welby, and there won’t be any cattle drives today, Mr. Burns, nor at
any other time soon.”  He rested his right hand on the gun butt which hung
loosely in the holster, then turned to look at the cowhands who were seated at
various places in the bunkhouse, “You boys just stay put, an’ set a spell, at
least ‘til we figure out just where you stand.” 

Welby then nodded to Cougar Olson, who walked over to
stand next to him.  Just then Bart McCain walked through the doorway, having
returned from town.  Looking the situation over, he moved quickly to stand next
to Olson.  Most of the cowhands in the room were good honest men, and Welby was
sure they wouldn’t interfere, though it always paid to play safe.  During his
many years as a Ranger, he’d learned caution.  That was how he’d stayed alive
this long. 

“Heard of you, Ranger Welby.”  Chester offered, “I
thought there was something different about you.  I also heard you were a fair
man, an’ I never went against a Ranger yet.  You’ll get no argument from me. 
You mind tellin’ me just what’s in the wind?”

“Well, I can’t go into detail yet, Burns, but you’ll
know soon enough, and if I figure right, the true owner of this spread, should
be on his way here at this moment, to reclaim his property.”  Welby explained.

Burns kept his mouth shut, though he was pondering this
turn of events thoughtfully. 

Just then Trudy burst in through the door.  “So it’s
true then?”  She yelled.  “My pa’s a thief.  That Holderman…….and that crooked
lawyer, they both got my pa into this.  I’ll shoot both of ‘em.  We may’ve been
poor, but we were honest.  I was just a kid.”  She burst into tears then, and
Cougar Olson walked quickly over to her, and taking her arm, led her outside
onto the porch.

“You’re not agonna shoot no one, Trudy, girl.  There,
there.”  He soothed.      

Hank, the cook, who had been standing just inside the
doorway, smiled to himself, as he shuffled over to sit down on a bench, next to
the table.  Things were finally making sense around the good old Triple-B.  It
was about time.  “Okay if I go back to the kitchen, Ranger Welby?”  Hank asked,
then added, “You already know my position in this, an’ I figured on stirrin’ up
some grub, maybe bring in a pot of coffee.  Might be a long day.”

“Go ahead, Hank.  Just holler before you come back
in.  Wouldn’t want to mistake you for a coyote.”  Welby grinned at the cook, as
Hank stood, then headed for the door.

Chester Burns wondered if things could get any worse,
though he moved to the bench, just vacated by Hank, heaved a deep sigh, then
sat down. 

As the group of four horsemen and a rented carriage
reined in on a ridge overlooking a verdant valley, where stood the large ranch house,
with many outbuildings of the Triple-B, Logan was the first of the group to
speak, “There it is, Claude.  There’s your Texas ranch, all ready and waitin’
for you.  We’ve actually been riding on the property for the last few miles.” 
He waved a hand at the vast expanse. 

“My boy, I saw all those cattle grazing along the way,
figured they were mine.” Lord Beckford began.  “This takes my breath away.  If
I had known years ago….but then I was misled.”  He turned suddenly, cold blue
eyes gleaming, as he looked accusingly at Clayborne Phillips.  The attorney had
the decency to squirm under Lord Beckford’s hard gaze.  Holderman only cleared
his throat, saying nothing. 

The two had been unusually quiet during the long ride,
even when they had stopped near a small stream to water the horses.  Sullenly
subdued, the two hadn’t spoken to even each other or anyone else for that
matter.  Nor had they gotten out of the buggy to stretch their legs at the
stream.