Lone Star 03 (5 page)

“You'd better take one of ours to go the rest of the way, then. Leave yours, and Speedy will have him back in good shape when you've got time to pick him up.”

Jessie and Close talked little during the rest of the short ride to the ranch. She waited until Close had washed up and they were sitting in the big central room of the main house. Only after the old rancher had swallowed one good drink of the smooth, aged bourbon she poured him, and she'd refilled his glass, did Jessie bring the conversation back to his problems.

She said, “If you'd like to tell me your bad news, Brad, I'm listening.”

“Well, it's not anything new.”

“Father used to say there were only two things that bothered a Texas rancher, drought and rustlers.” Jessie smiled, but her face grew serious instantly and she said, “I know we've had enough rain this spring. Who's been stealing your cattle, Brad?”

“If I knew, I wouldn't be here talking to you now, Jessica.” Brad Close's mouth snapped into a thin, angry line.

“I'm just riding back from all the way down to the Rio Grande and beyond. Somebody stole my market herd.”

Jessie knew what that meant. On a spread the size of the Box B, a market herd would include virtually every salable steer that could be rounded up. A loss like that could cripple even a big ranch, and the Box B wasn't in that category.

Her voice showing her concern, she asked, “All of it?”

“Every single last steer. Heads, horns, hides, and tails,” Close said grimly.

“How long had the herd been gone before you found it'd been rustled?”

“I don't rightly know, Jessie. A week, week and a half. I was sorta resting the steers before I started the drive to the shipping pens. They was on that fenced half section on the south of my spread, and you'd remember that's a good four miles from the main house. I wasn't worried about the critters, so I didn't set a night herder. Me and the hands was out making one last gather before we drove to market, so it was a while before anybody went there.”

Jessie saw that Close was at the point of collapse from exhaustion and worry. She said carefully, “I don't want to offend you, Brad, but you're tired out. Why don't you go up to one of the guest rooms and have a nap? Ki will be back before supper, and after we've eaten we can sit down and talk things over. Maybe among the three of us, we can figure something out.”

Close started to protest, but a bout of yawning overpowered him. He nodded and said reluctantly, “I reckon that's the sensible thing to do, Jessie. I'll feel better after I catch forty winks. I guess I just ain't had enough sleep to do me, the last couple of weeks.”

With Close settled into one of the upstairs guest rooms, Jessie stepped out on the veranda of the big house. She paced restlessly, went back into the house and to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, and returned to the veranda, where she was sitting when Ki and Charley Smith rode up. Ki reined in, and young Smith followed suit.

Ki introduced Smith to Jessie, then told the youth, “The horse corral's just past the hay shed, over there. I don't suppose you'll mind leading my horse when you go. Speedy'll tell you what to do. Then go on to the bunkhouse and find Ed Wright. If he's not in off the range yet, wait for him. Tell him I've promised you meals and a bunk for a few days, and a job if he's got one. You'll find out fast enough if we can hire you on.”

After Smith was out of earshot, Jessie asked Ki, “Where did you find him? Was he lost out on the range?”

Ki quickly related the afternoon's happenings, winding up by saying, “So, I brought Smith back with me, to see if there might be a job for him here.”

“Which you knew there would be, of course.”

“Of course,” Ki agreed. “A month's work, at least, so the boy will have traveling money if we don't keep him.”

Jessie smiled. “Another orphan, Ki. How many does this one make that you've brought here just for a little while?”

“Enough, I suppose. But remember, Jessie, I was a stray like Charley Smith when your father took me in.”

“Yes. But there'll never be another one like you, Ki. I can't blame you for keeping on trying, though.”

They started into the house. Ki said, “Smith told me about the situation at the Box B. It worries me. Brad Close's market herd was stolen—”

“I know,” Jessie interrupted. “Brad's upstairs right now, sleeping. He was so exhausted—”

“You know about the rustlers, then.” When Jessie nodded, Ki went on, “Those gangs work in a pattern, remember. The chances are they'll hit us or the Lazy G next.”

“After what you told me about your run-in this afternoon, the Lazy G's going to be shorthanded,” Jessie frowned.

“They'd be an easy target. I suppose we would too, unless we put out night herders. But the Lazy G's a syndicate ranch, and they'd have the resources to tide them over. We could recover too, if we lost a herd. Not that I'd want to.”

“I'll talk to Ed tomorrow,” Ki said. “Charley Smith might be luckier here than he was at the Box B.”

Jessie was still pursuing her original train of thought. She went on, “Brad didn't say so outright, Ki, but I got the idea that losing his market herd could just about wipe him out. And he's been a good friend since my father's time.”

“You'll help him, of course?”

“Of course. Maybe a loan from one of the Starbuck banks to tide him over while he's rebuilding his herds. He wouldn't let us help him directly, I know, but he wouldn't realize we'd have anything to do with a loan from a bank.”

“We'll see how he feels after supper,” Ki said. “And it's time for me to get cleaned up. I'll be down in time to eat.”

Rested and refreshed by a good dinner, Close was better able to give a complete account of what had happened when he set out to trail his stolen cattle as he, Jessie, and Ki sat in the big main room of the ranch house after they'd eaten.

“I didn't waste no time,” the old rancher said. “Took out after ‘em before the trail got any colder.”

“Alone?” Ki asked.

“Sure. Hell, Ki, I wasn't looking for a fight. I was out to find out where my steers was. If I'd been lucky enough to run that bunch to their hideout, I‘d've got a bunch together to give them rustlers a real bellyful. There's always men with guns for hire south of the river.”

“But you didn't find the hideout?” Jessie asked.

“Nope. Oh, it was easy enough to trail the herd from the Box B to the river, and I found where they crossed, and followed the trail partway into Mexico.”

“Only partway? You're not the kind of man to give up on a trail like that, Brad,” Jessie observed, frowning. “What happened?”

“What happened was that whoever was bossing them rustlers had sense enough to leave four or five men as a rear guard. I had to dodge that bunch over half of Coahuila before I shook ‘em off my trail.”

“And the main bunch got away with your cattle, of course?”

“You bet they did! You know what the country's like on the other side of the Rio Grande, south of the Big Bend.”

“Yes. Pretty much what it's like on this side. Baked earth that doesn't hold tracks well, rough desert mile after mile, and no real landmarks to go by.”

Close nodded. “You've named it, Jessica. Oh, I never did get what you'd call lost. After I shook off the rustlers' rear guards, I swung north by way of San Pedro, and stopped to talk to the
rurales
that's headquartered there. But all I got from ‘em was what the little boy shot at.”

“Meaning nothing?” Ki asked.

“Meaning nothing,” Brad agreed. “They wasn't about to put theirselves out for a gringo. Well, I could understand that, so after I got back on this side of the Rio Grande, I angled up to Fort Chaplin to tell our own soldiers what was going on.”

Jessie took advantage of the pause to ask, “They weren't any more help than the
rurales
had been?”

“Maybe not even as much.”

“I can't understand that,” she said. “Captain Stanford has always tried to do what he could to help the ranchers when bandits from the other side of the river give us trouble.”

“Stanford's been transferred,” Close said. “They sent a young pipsqueak Yankee from back East to take his place.”

“Surely some of the men who were serving under Captain Stanford are still there, though,” Ki put in.

“Oh, sure. But they can't lift a finger to help a body if the fort commander don't tell ‘em to.”

“And the new commander wouldn't?”

“Not for a minute!” Close stopped long enough to take a swallow of coffee. He went on, “Hell, that new man never even caught on to what I was talking about when I told him I figured the old Laredo Loop was working again.”

Jessie shook her head. “I just can't imagine the army doing nothing when we ask for help.”

“I guess the old army's changing, Jessica,” Close said. “You take this young Lieutenant Farnam that's taken Stanford's place, now. He wasn't no brighter'n Adam's off-ox when it come to him understanding what I tried to tell him.”

Somewhere deep in Jessie's mind, a tiny warning bell tinkled when she heard the lieutenant's name. She asked, “Farnam? What's his first name, Brad?”

“Joe, which I'd guess is short for Joseph.”

“Did he happen to mention where he'd come from?”

“One of them big old towns back East. Boston, I believe it was. Why?”

“Oh, just an idea I had. Farnam isn't a very common name.”

“You mean you might know him, or his kinfolks?” Jessie shook her head. “No. Except that the name sounded familiar for a moment. But it's not important, Brad. Go on with your story.”

“Well, there ain't much more to tell, Jessica. This little puffed-up lieutenant's got no more idea of what them soldiers he bosses is supposed to do than that palomino of yours would have. I wanted him to get some patrols out along the river and try to nab a bunch of them rustlers with a herd of steers they'd stole, before they could get over on the other side of the river and change brands on ‘em. No, he says, he can't do that, the army's got orders now not to mix up in civilian business. Go see the sheriff, he told me.”

“I'm sure you explained to him that the sheriff's at the county seat, which is a three-day ride from the river?”

“Sure I did. He said he was sorry, but that's all the satisfaction I got. Now if your daddy was still here—” Close stopped short and shook his head. “I guess I didn't have no call to say that, Jessica. I'm sorry.”

“You shouldn't be, Brad. I agree with you, if Father were here, he'd get some hands from the Box B and the Lazy G and some from our place, and put an end to the rustling. But ...” her voice trailed off.

Soberly, Close said, “Yeah.” He yawned again. “Well, I've told you about all I know. And if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go back upstairs and catch up on the rest of that sleep I lost.”

“And bed sounds good to me,” Ki said, standing up.

“I know you're both tired,” Jessie told them. “We'll talk some more at breakfast, when we're fresh. Among the three of us, we ought to be able to think of some way to stop this new Laredo Loop gang before it does any more damage. Then we can sleep peacefully all night, every night.”

Chapter 4

After Ki and Brad Close had gone upstairs, Jessie sat alone in the big main room, sipping the last swallows of her coffee. Slowly the house grew quiet as the noises from above—doors opening and closing, soft footsteps in the hall—died away as Ki and Close settled down in their own bedrooms.

Poor Brad!
she thought to herself.
Losing a herd that could mean the difference between keeping his spread and having to close it out. And being given such rude treatment by the army must have been the last straw. Which reminds me
—

Jessie stood up and went into the big square room that had been Alex Starbuck's office and den. She sat down in the oversized leather chair in front of the huge oak rolltop desk that had been her father's. Alex had bought the desk when he began his first business venture in San Francisco, a small importing firm dealing in goods from the Orient.

At that time the Circle Star had been a small specialized spread, breeding fine horses as a sideline to catching the wild mustangs that roamed the prairie, breaking them and training them as cattle ponies. The first expansion of his interests had been almost accidental. To tide the Circle Star over a long period of drought that had brought ranching to a standstill, Starbuck had taken a shipload of fine horses to the Far East. Unable to sell them for cash, Alex had taken merchandise in trade, and to dispose of the goods he had been forced to open an Oriental merchandise store in San Francisco.