North to the Salt Fork (21 page)

At Collier Place there were several steers in the back pens he could see were too young to go on the drive.

“Aw,” Clifton Collier complained. “Them's near two years old.”

“They ain't old enough.” With his saddle horn cap in his hand, Jack stood in his stirrups, looking the pen over. “I need only twos and threes.”

“If you knew how badly I need the money—”

“I know how badly you need the money,” Jack interrupted. “But they ain't old enough. You got some older stock, we'll take 'em.”

“You're a hard man,” Collier said, and watched as the hands cut out several head.

But he had to be a hard man. Unsellable cattle were just deadweight. He hoped that Jangles was being just as tough with his branding crew. There was only one market up there: big-framed steers they could hang some meat on.

 

It was past sundown when he and his crew came in, dog-tired and dusty. The women set to feeding them as soon as they walked through the door.

“Jangles and his bunch aren't back yet,” Lucy whispered.

Jack sighed. “I better ride their way and see about them.”

“Want me to go along?” Luke offered.

“No, eat your supper and get some rest. We still have lots of branding to do tomorrow.”

He looked disappointed, but agreed.

Shanes walked Jack to the pens. “I went into town for supplies today. I heard that Sawyer is fixing to bring some law up here from San Antonio to stop you.”

“I don't doubt it. Living clear down in Fredericksburg ain't helping him keep tabs on us. Must be driving him nuts. But my lawyer says he can't stop cattle already consigned to a cattle shipment. We get them branded, they ain't his and I have all the consignment papers dated so he can't file a lien after the fact. He's out on a limb.”

Shanes laughed. “You sure know your law. Anyway, when you get back from Kansas you may be a grand-daddy, or close to being one.”

Jack's eyes brightened. “I certainly wouldn't mind that. Our babies can grow up together.”

Shanes looked equally excited. “I just hope I can get the corn planted to suit you.”

“Don't worry about the small stuff. You're going to make a helluva farmer.”

“I hope so. I want to pass these skills on to my future son.”

Jack walked back to the house, his mind turning to other things. He'd liked to have Craig go along to Kansas, but when Jangles had branded his cattle earlier that week, Craig hadn't said a word about joining the crew. But Jangles was stepping up as a solid second in command, and Jack was grateful for that.

Under the stars he rode west on the dim road through the shadowy cedars in search of his missing crew. In the distance he heard a cow bawl for her calf, and around a turn three deer leapt in front of him across the path and spooked Mac sideways. Jack turned his coat collar up and the crisp night air cooled his face while he pushed on.

The lights were on at the Sorensons' place, so he reined up and Lex came out on the porch.

“You're getting around late.”

“I'm looking for my crew. They didn't come in tonight.”

Lex scratched his thin scalp in the light streaming from the house. “They're over at Trainer's, ain't they?”

“Supposed to be.”

“I ain't seen 'em come back, Jack.”

“I'll head over there. Thanks.” He set Mac on a long lope.

 

When he dropped off the ridge and started down the grade to Wilborn Creek, there were no lights on that he could see at the Trainers' place. Jack started to worry. Jangles had planned to come back to the D-T by supper and the Trainers' ranch was supposed to be his last stop for the evening.

He shifted the holster on his hip out of a nervous habit. Things were not right. Anxious about the situation, he drew his Colt and reined Mac off the road. He paused and listened, but nothing. When he drew near the house he hooted and waited.

“Come on in, we won't shoot you,” Jangles shouted from the doorway.

“What's going on?” Jack asked, dismounting at the house.

“About a half dozen Comanches rode up the hillside today while we were branding. We figured there'd be more so we stayed here just in case. Turned out the lights so as not to attract attention. You see anything?”

“No, it's darker than a cave out here. No moon. It surprises me they're even down here.”

“Hell, we all seen them. Thought they might be part of a bigger party.”

“It's best you stayed here. No telling what might've happened. Come dawn we'll go check their tracks.”

“Good idea. You know Mrs. Trainer?” Jangles asked, gesturing to a woman with a short cob pipe between her teeth.

“Good evening, ma'am,” Jack said pleasantly.

“Call me Zelda. I'm sure grateful these boys stayed. Robert and I are alone out here.”

Jack saw Robert through the doorway, coming across the yard. “See anything out there?”

“No, guess they rode on. Thanks to these boys,” Robert said, warmly shaking Jack's hand. “Nice to see you, Captain Starr.”

Jack turned to Jangles. “Did you complete the branding?”

“Yes, sir, Captain. We have them all branded.”

“You might as well stay too,” Zelda chimed in. “Ain't no sense in losing your head out there. I'll find you a few blankets. You can sleep on the floor in front of the fireplace with the rest of them.”

He agreed, hoping that Lucy wouldn't get too worried about him.

 

In the morning, Zelda fed them a big breakfast and Jack and Jangles went to check on the Comanche tracks while the others loaded the squeeze chute in the wagon. He could only hope his other crew had ridden out that morning without him to the Carlsons' ranch to continue the branding.

The war party, by all signs, was headed back north on what looked like trotting ponies. They hadn't lingered long, but Jack told Jangles that they'd done the right thing by waiting till morning.

On the way back to the ranch, they met Red and two of his vaqueros.

“What's happening, Captain?”

“Boys had some visitors yesterday over at Trainer's. A small war party showed up on the hillside and the boys stayed overnight to be certain they were gone. Guess the bucks kept on riding, from what Jangles and I saw this morning.”

“They've acted half spooked all winter. I was sure they'd have tried something by now. Their old ponies must be getting thin with no hay.”

“You're right as rain.”

Red and his vaqueros moved aside as the wagon and crew caught up. Jack saluted Red and they moved on.

 

Midday they arrived back at the ranch. Lucy, her face looking pale but relieved, ran to him. She was getting big, and he could see she was having some difficulty moving quickly.

Jack filled her in on the adventures of the previous night, but not without Lucy's face turning two shades paler before returning to normal.

“Claude took the crew this morning and went on to Carlson's. They took bedrolls in case they didn't get through.”

Jack nodded, pleased. He was only weeks from heading out with the herd and everything needed to be done before they left. The women had dinner ready, so they marched to the house, washed up and ate. After the meal Jack told his crew to get their saddles and tack in top shape.

Estefan waited by the door until they all filed out. “Señor, I have some horses you need to look at.”

A look of concern crossed Jack's face. “What's the matter with them?”

“Two have bad backs,” Estefan attested.

They went into the corral. Each questionable horse was haltered and tied neatly in a row. Jack could see the fistulas on the first two horses, both from a neighboring rancher. After only a few days of riding, the swollen sores behind their withers were seeping fluid and blood. Damn, so that's why the rancher had turned them out, Jack thought. The problem looked chronic.

Estefan raised the hind foot on a third horse. The hoof was badly cracked and the animal would soon be crippled. Jack realized they were all range horses and he began to worry. The fourth and fifth horses had severe cases of ringbone, an affliction to the pastern bones on the front legs of horses that lamed them when they were used too hard.

The next two had bad coughs and were wind broke.

“I need seven more horses?” Jack asked the youth.

“
Sí.
These
caballos
are no good, señor.”

“I guess we should put them out of their misery. I'll inform the owners later.”

He complimented Estefan's work before he went about the rest of his checkups. He felt lucky to have the boy. He decided to check on Ralph, his new cook, down by the shop. The man was so organized he'd spent his days making cabinets and arranging all the food supplies on the chuck wagon.

“How's it going?” Jack asked.

Ralph was busy making a new singletree on a sawhorse bench with a clamp. “You know how many of these I broke going to Abilene?”

“How many?”

“Sixteen. Mostly it was the rotten wood they were made out of, but the mules I had were rowdy too. Jim Hamilton was the trail boss and he got to cussing me about breaking them on purpose. I got so mad I wanted to split his head open with one, but I figured that would break it and I'd be out of spares.”

Jack let out a belly laugh. “He was sure lucky you held back.”

“He damn sure was.”

Ralph was a typical cowboy-turned-camp-cook, which he had become on account of his gimpy leg. But he could cook a mean meal, and he understood that eating was the only luxury for a cow outfit on the road. Jack noted that he'd also make an excellent nursemaid for the boys and a pretty good horse doctor to boot. But his real skill lay in his ability to whip up a gourmet feast out of the simplest ingredients. Even Lucy said his pecan pie was as good as any woman's.

Jack saw Estefan ride on horseback, driving the culls out to an open field, where he would put them out of their misery. Jack was pained to lose seven horses, but he'd rather not ride them into the ground.

He felt lucky to have a strong crew to take on the road. Estefan would have the horses culled to a decent stand. Jangles was looking for a good bell steer to lead them. Ralph was making sure the wagon was sound and ready. But his hay expenses kept growing. All of the nearby range was cropped off after a dry winter. Keeping any number of animals in one place required forage, which was why he was branding them on their home ranches instead of bringing them to his own ranch. A hundred horses and four mules could eat enough store-bought hay to put a man in debt.

 

The days trickled by and some showers passed through. The weather warmed, but they awoke to hoarfrost on the ground a time or two. Jack had word that the range north of them had plenty of grass for grazing. He hoped there was enough forage between Lost Dog Creek and the Red River to hang some meat on the steers' hips.

In bed with his wife, he rubbed her swollen belly and they discussed baby names. Jack suggested Cory in honor of his brother, but he was afraid he'd bring bad luck to the child.

“What about Dallas?” he asked, after staring at the ceiling for some time.

Lucy sat up on her elbow. “That's beautiful, and it would work for a boy and a girl.”

Jack beamed, pleased he had suggested a name they could both agree on. He rolled over and kissed her good night.

“We won't have many more nights together,” Lucy said, nestling into him. “Let's make these last ones count.”

Jack sobered. There'd be no mattress under his spine nor a warm, inviting body to cuddle up to. A part of him regretted taking the job. He'd been traveling so much in the last year that the last thing he wanted to do was go on a cattle drive for several months. But he and Lucy stood to gain a lot of money from the venture, which they'd need for their growing family. He knew many folks in similar situations were relying on him. He hated to admit it, but he'd never back down when obligations came to call.

I'm ready for you, Kansas, he thought.

The next week, Jack learned that Sawyer was back in town. He'd been stopping at ranches that owed him money, letting them know that his trail-driving crew would be by to pick up their cattle in three weeks for Kansas. Jack had expected this and had told the ranchers not to argue. He could only hope that Sawyer was dumb enough to believe they'd all agree to his terms, though the saloon incident had made it perfectly clear how everyone felt about the man.

McIntyre told him there were three hard cases riding with Sawyer, all of whom wore low-slung six-guns, leather cuffs on their wrists, and acted as tough as a pack of Louisiana fighting curs. Jack was sure these men cost Sawyer more than his last crew, and they wouldn't be as easy to subdue as Dyke and Freeman.

McIntyre scowled at Jack as he described them. “I want to tie a tin can on their tails and send them back to San Antonio.”

“This is the best way,” Jack gently reminded him. “If he thinks he's pulling one over on them he won't think to bring down an injunction, and by the time he realizes that no one will comply he won't have enough time to get one.”

McIntyre grudgingly agreed, but Jack could see the boiling hatred in his eyes for Sawyer.

 

Later that day Jack began to collect the cattle and prepare for the long drive. He had enough hay scattered on the ground of the corrals to fill the bellies of the first round of cattle, but the subsequent groups would be driven ten miles north, where Ralph and Estefan would set up camp on the grassy plains and ensure that the cattle had plenty of room to graze. In three days' time, the entire herd of two thousand would be collected on what they called the Frenchman's Flats, ready to head north to the Salt Fork.