North to the Salt Fork (25 page)

Flower rode behind him, hugging his waist, but he worried the whole time that his horse might buck them off. In an hour they found the chuck wagon. Ralph's eyes about bugged out of their sockets at the sight of the girls.

Jack rode up to the wagon and lowered Flower down to the ground. “Ralph, take Flower here with you to camp. Their buggy broke down, so we'll need to send some boys back for their things when we make camp.” He introduced Rose, who was riding the buggy horse behind them.

After doffing his hat Ralph pulled Flower up to the spring seat. “I'll see to it, Captain.”

“Whew,” Flower said. “This is a heck of a lot nicer than riding behind you, Captain. But I still love you.” She threw kisses to Jack.

The camp felt more alive than ever that evening. A couple of the boys pulled out fiddles and Flower danced for them while Ralph and Rose fixed supper. Meanwhile Jangles took a few of the boys to fetch the girls' luggage. As everyone laughed and chatted, Jack could tell that every one of the boys was smitten with them. It was too bad the girls couldn't stay on with them for the rest of the trip, but they had places to go and things to see. The cowboy's life wasn't for them.

Before turning in for the night, Jack spoke to Estefan about picking the gentlest horses for the girls to ride on their way into Wichita. The buggy horse would carry most of their luggage and the rest of their possessions would be loaded onto the chuck wagon, which they would deliver once they had reached town themselves.

The next morning the girls thanked and kissed everyone in the crew good-bye and rode off waving kerchiefs at them. Jack was thoroughly amused by the turn of events. He hoped the boys' spirits would remain high until they got to Wichita.

 

By the end of the week, he rode into the tent city on the bank of the Arkansas River. He recognized a cattle buyer crossing the street on foot. The man waved him down. “Hello, Mr. Starr. It's Larry Sorrel. You brought cattle up here before, right?”

Jack reined in Gray and nodded to the man. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Sorrel. I've got a good herd coming in behind me as we speak.”

“I could certainly use some cattle. How many you got?”

“Close to two thousand head.”

Sorrel let out a low whistle. “What's the makeup of the herd?”

“Steers: twos and threes only.”

Sorrel's eyes brightened. “I'm interested. Where are you at?”

“Six miles south.”

“Great. I'll be by in the morning to ride through them.”

“Bring your wallet,” Jack said.

“I pay the best prices in town.”

“We'll see, won't we?”

“Don't promise them to anyone until I have a chance to bid on them, okay?”

“You have my word, Mr. Sorrel. See you in the morning,” Jack said, tipping his hat.

He hitched Gray outside a tent marked MIDWEST CATTLE BUYERS. HIGHEST PRICES PAID FOR YOUR CATTLE. Jack went inside and nodded to the young clerk at the desk.

“May I help you?”

“I have a herd of steers from Texas I just drove up yesterday.”

The clerk gave him a look of boredom and went back to his paperwork. “There's paper and pencil there. Leave the information.”

“I rode up here to talk to a cattle buyer.”

“They're all busy.”

Jack stood back from the wooden desk, which looked out of place in a tent pitched over thinning grass. He had to work hard to rein in his temper. After weathering storms and battling river currents, he wasn't about to let a snot-nosed clerk tell him who he could and couldn't see.

In two steps he reached over the desk and had the clerk by the coat collar. He lifted him out of his chair and halfway across the desk, jerking him up to his face. “Gawdamnit, I want to talk to a cattle buyer, not some weaselly little clerk that don't know beans about this business. Now, you find me someone to talk to or I'll turn you into cattle feed, am I clear?”

The clerk was too terrified to speak and only nodded his head quickly to show that he understood.

Breathing fire out of his nostrils, Jack shoved the man back down into his chair.

Looking white as a sheet, the clerk ran behind the sheet partition. Jack could hear him whispering to another man behind the sheet. “Sir. Sir, there is a madman out there who wants to talk to you, sir.”

“Did you tell him I was busy?” the man asked gruffly.

“He was rather persistent, sir.”

“Well, I guess I could give him a minute.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, Adam?”

“He's violent, sir.”

Jack couldn't help but laugh at his effect on the boy. In a matter of seconds, a short man with a full mustache appeared in front of the sheet. “My name is Charles Manning. How can I help you, sir?”

Jack cleared his throat. “I wanted to speak to someone about my herd. I didn't drive two thousand cattle several hundred miles to fill out a slip.”

“We don't take cows or heifers—”

“I have two thousand two- and three-year-old steers. Not a cow or heifer in the bunch,” Jack interrupted.

“Well, that would be a first for me.”

“If you find one cow with our road brand on it, I'll pay you a hundred dollars.”

“My, my. You sound quite sure of yourself.”

“Driving cattle is my business. Are you interested in the herd?”

“I must say you have one of the first herds up here this year. I'll have to see how the market is doing this morning.”

“Fine. But are you interested?”

“I'd be happy to take a look. Now, where is this herd located?”

“Six miles or so south and west of the trail.”

“And your name again, sir?”

“Captain Jack Starr.”

“Good to meet you, Captain Starr. I'll be out there tomorrow.”

“Thank you, sir.” He left the tent and walked out into the brilliant Kansas sunshine. One more buyer would be enough. Then word would be out about his cattle, piquing interest and encouraging others to drive out for a look-see.

“Captain, oh, Captain!” It was Rose with her arms full of purchases, standing in the middle of the street. “How are your wonderful cowboys?”

He tipped his hat to her. “Doing fine, ma'am. We'll have your other things up here in the early afternoon.”

“Why, Captain Starr, any old time you want to bring them by is fine. We're working at the Beguine House. You can't miss it. We're in a tent right now, but the lumber is being shipped here. Come by and see us any time, Captain. Things are a little slow until the other herds get in here.”

He agreed and waved good-bye. A good stein of cold beer would hit the spot before he went back to the herd. He entered the Texas Saloon tent and noticed the place was nearly empty. The makeshift bar—planks on barrels—and a smiling barkeep welcomed him and he ordered a beer.

“You bring cattle up?” the red-faced man in the white apron asked.

“Yes. Reckon I'm the first herd up here.”

“Good. We all moved down here and figured we'd starve if some of you-all didn't start coming.”

“Oh, I suspect there's a lot of herds starting out by now.”

“We sure need the business.”

After draining the last drop of beer, he left the Texas Saloon and started for Gray. But he couldn't miss the pair of hard-eyed hombres loafing around his horse. Both wore bull-hide chaps, vests and six-guns. One looked no older than Luke; the other, maybe near his own age, had a bad scar from a knife cut across his left cheek.

“Can I help you?” Jack asked, wondering what the interest was in the gray horse.

“This is my horse,” the older one said as the two men blocked Jack's way. “How in the hell did you get him anyway?”

“You got proof he's yours?”

“Mister, I don't need proof he's mine. I raised him from a colt.”

“I'm sorry, but a widow woman gave him to me in Austin.”

“That's right—some damn rebel stole him from me.”

“The law says possession is nine-tenths of the law. You show me some convincing proof, we'll talk.”

“I'll show you—” The man jerked his six-gun out, but Jack's smoked lead first.

He whirled on his feet to face the younger one and fired a second round as the older man folded, firing his six-gun into the dust. The gray broke loose and skidded sideways. The second man tried to raise his gun hand, but Jack shot him again. He fell facedown.

“Where's the law?” Jack shouted as faces began to appear from tent flaps and building projects.

He bent over and discovered the older one had almost fifty dollars in greenbacks and stuffed the money back into his vest pocket. The sound of boot heels hitting the boardwalk told him someone was coming. A man caught Gray and led him back across the street.

Jack thanked him and nodded to the marshal with a sawed-off shotgun, a silver star pinned on his thin wool duster.

“What happened here?”

“These two men were blocking me from my horse. The older man claimed my horse was his. He went for his gun and I shot him. Then I turned and faced the second one's Colt. I had no other choice but to shoot him too.”

“Sounds like self-defense to me.”

“It sure was. There's money enough to bury them in his vest.”

“Who in the hell are they?” The lawman scratched behind his ear.

“I never saw them before.”

“Strange he'd accost you, isn't it?”

“It sure wasn't worth dying over.”

“You're right as rain about that. My name's Cord. Ervin Cord. I'm the law around here. Ride careful, stranger.”

“Captain Jack Starr, sir.”

“Couple of you boys tote these bodies down to the funeral home,” the marshal told the onlookers. “Gawdalmighty, there's already been two men killed and I ain't been on this job twenty-four hours.” Cord shook his head. “We can handle it from here, Captain.”

Jack nodded and went for Gray. What else was going to happen? Who were the two dead men? Maybe they'd find some identifying papers on them. Once in the saddle he shook his head over the matter and set Gray on a lope.

Who'd put those two up to that? Only time could tell him. He still found it odd. Maybe he'd find out before he left to go back to Texas. Either way it upset him. All he wanted to do was sell the steers and get going. But even if he managed to sell the steers quickly, he still had a big matter to resolve in Indian Territory: Cory's killer.

Back at camp Jack sent Shanks, Earl and Claude to town with the ladies' things. Smiling, he gave each of the three men a five-dollar advance. “Don't get head-busting drunk. We'll need you, so get on back here.”

The threesome and two packhorses loaded with trunks and hatboxes rode out while the remaining fellows shouted catcalls and suggestions for what they should do once they reached town. Jack merely shook his head.

 

Later, while sipping coffee and sitting on a log that one of the cowboys had dragged near the chuck wagon and cooking ring, he told Ralph about the shooting incident he'd had in town.

When he finished, Ralph shot him a serious glance. “There may be more to that deal than meets the eye.”

“Only they ain't alive to tell us.”

“Who wants you dead?”

“I've got a list an arm long.” Jack wondered if those two dead men came from his past. But there was nothing with which he could tie them to his years in uniform. He'd probably never know.

What kind of damn fools were they? It was almost like they were committing suicide. The notion stayed with him all day.

Meanwhile Jangles wanted to resettle their camp elsewhere. The cattle had mown all the grass nearby.

“Better give it two more days,” Jack told him. “I want the buyers to find us.”

“We can make it that long,” Jangles said, and squatted down beside the log. “But not much longer.”

“This is good grass country,” Jack said to the ranger.

“I've been thinking the same thing. They say east of here over in the hills it's even better.”

“Maybe we should take a look-see. What makes me curious is the way folks are drifting into Kansas and taking up homesteads. I sure wouldn't want to be alone on the empty prairie like that.”

“I talked to a couple guys passing through. They say them hills ain't much good for a plow and no one's stopping over there. But there's head-high bluestem grass for grazing. Might be a good place to raise cattle.”

“It might work.”

They were quiet for a moment before Jangles asked, “How did it go in town?”

“Alright. Two guys claimed that Gray was theirs and ended up with their boot toes pointing up at the sky.”

Jangles blinked at him. “Who were they?”

“Damned if I know. Fools, is all I can say.”

“You better take some rangers along next time.”

“Good idea,” Jack said. He was tired of talking about the incident, which more than disturbed him, so he said his good nights and turned into his bedroll early.

 

The following day the first buyer, Larry Sorrel, arrived in a surrey-covered buggy. Estefan gave him a gentle horse to ride, saddling the red cow pony with Sorrel's own saddle.

“By golly, Starr, you have good help.”

“It's a far piece up here from the hill country. No use in hauling worthless folks along on a cattle drive.”

“I believe that.”

Jack clapped him on the back. “Let's go see those longhorns.”