The H&R Cattle Company (22 page)

14

Zack had turned the job of fencing the cropland over to the Peoples brothers. They had built the fence in twenty days and were now busy breaking the ground with turning plows. No planting would take place, however, till the moon was in the right phase. At that time, the brothers would plow and harrow the land again, lay off the rows and bury the seed.

Hunter, Ross and Human had been building line shacks for almost a month, and had put the roof on the fourth and final building just this morning. They had equipped each of the cabins with a small stove and cooking utensils, and had built two bunks in each of them. Usually, only one man lived in a line shack at a time, but Zack believed they would need eight men riding line till the cattle learned which areas they could graze in without being hassled by men on horseback. He would hire as many men as it took to keep the cattle on H and R property; losing a longhorn cow was one thing, losing an expensive Hereford bull was quite another.

Zack was well-pleased with his farmers. Deciding early on that the men needed no supervision, he had simply told them what he wanted done, then left them to their own devices. And he could plainly see a change in the landscape every day. In what might have been record time, the brothers had built a strong fence around the acreage that was to be cultivated and were almost ready to begin planting. They had indeed found the year-round job they had been seeking.

Today was Saturday, and the month of April was already half gone. With Ross and Human at his side, Zack had worked for almost a month without taking a day off. The nonstop schedule had been warranted, however, for it was of the utmost importance that the line shacks be in place when the cattle were delivered. Habitable cabins now stood north, south, east and west, and he expected to hear cattle bawling any day now—a sound he looked forward to eagerly.

When the three men had eaten a meal of venison steaks and sweet potatoes at the cookshack, Ross suggested that they had all earned a night at the White Horse Saloon. Both Hunter and Human agreed that a trip to Lampasas was in order. Each man bathed in cold well water and changed into clean clothing. Zack and Jolly shaved, but Human was a man who probably did not even own a razor.

Informing the cook that they would not be around at suppertime, they saddled their horses and took to the road. They reached town an hour before sunset, and Zack stopped at the livery stable to thank Oscar Land for directing the Peoples brothers to the H and R.

“I thought you'd be satisfied with them,” Land said. “I reckon they've been farming all their lives, so they ought to know something about it.”

When Zack remounted and turned his horse toward the street, Land spoke again: “I hate to mention it,” he said softly, “but Jed Peoples said you'd give me a dollar for them keeping my mules overnight last month.”

Zack had to smile as he handed over the money. It seemed that Land should be the one paying the dollar, for Zack had furnished two feedings of oats for each of the mules. Land was also smiling. He pocketed the money, then turned his back to continue his work on a wagon wheel.

The men had to tie their horses several doors down the street from the White Horse, and Zack had never seen the saloon so crowded this early in the evening. They stepped inside and moved against the wall, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Though it was not yet dark outside, the light was already beginning to fade inside, and one of the bartenders was moving about the room touching fire to the wicks of lamps.

After a while, Zack shouldered his way forward and leaned against the bar. “Give me a bottle of the good stuff and three glasses, Ed.”

The bartender was quick to comply. “If you're gonna be wanting a table, you better get it now,” he said, pushing the bottle and glasses toward Zack. “This place is filling up fast; that new singer we've got is pulling them in.”

Zack selected one of the few unoccupied tables within earshot of the anticipated entertainment. A portable riser containing what appeared to be a new piano had been placed a few feet in front of the stage. A burning coal-oil lamp lit up the instrument. A large poster tacked to the riser advertised the fact that Jess Hudson, a young singer and piano player from Waco, would be entertaining at nine o'clock. Zack looked at his watch and knew that he would not be around to listen to the singer. The time was only a quarter past five, and never in his life could he recall spending four hours in a saloon at any one time. He emptied his glass and poured himself another drink.

“I've heard that singer before, Zack,” Ross said, touching a match to his cigarette. “He travels all over Texas. He was in Corpus Christi last summer. I don't know much about piano playing, but his music sounded awful good to me. He's got a strong baritone voice that's easy on the ears, and he seems to know a lot of songs. I liked his singing so much that I wound up giving him nearly a dollar before the night was over.”

Zack nodded. “I have no doubt that the man knows what he's doing,” he said, “but I can't think of many things that I'd wait four hours for.” He refilled the glasses. “What do you say we drink up and get out of here, maybe move around a little and see what's going on at some of the other places?”

“I say we should have done that already,” Ross said, emptying his glass and getting to his feet. “That piano player ain't gonna be around for several hours, and I sure don't feel like sitting here that long.”

Human was already on his feet. He nodded and said nothing.

Ten minutes later, the trio entered the Twin Oaks Saloon, named for the two small trees that had been transplanted on either side of its entrance. The oaks were scarcely noticeable, and would remain so for the next several years. The name of the saloon had drawn a few chuckles from the town's drinkers early on, but after the laughing was done and the jokes were told, the name was accepted by all. And business was good most of the time. Hunter, Ross and Human stood just inside the front door for a few moments waiting for their eyes to adjust.

A narrow bar ran the length of the room along the left wall, with stools lining it on three sides. Only two drinkers were seated there. The area around the potbellied stove had been left to bare earth, while the remainder of the room had a creaky floor that was covered with a thick layer of sawdust. Men sat drinking at several tables scattered about, and one poker game was in progress.

Zack walked to the bar and made his purchase. Then, with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and three glasses in the other, he led his men to a table near the back wall. They seated themselves and had not even finished their first drink when they had a visitor: a tall, slim man with a black mustache, who appeared to be about thirty years old. With his battered hat pulled low over his eyes and a Peacemaker hanging on his right hip, he stood by the table for a few moments staring, a grimace of contempt on his face. Raising his upper lip sneeringly, he spoke to Hunter: “Ain't you the fellow that jumped on my friend Jiggs Odom a while back for no reason a-tall? Ain't you the fellow that hit him in the head when his back was turned?”

“Nope,” Zack said quickly. He fastened his gaze on the man's bloodshot eyes. “The only run-in I ever had with Jiggs Odom was when I defended myself after he picked a fight with me.”

The man shook his head emphatically. “Naw, naw,” he said. “I happen to know that you snuck up on him.” He looked Hunter over for a moment, then added, “I'm just wondering why you ain't wearing no gun. Scared, maybe?”

Before Zack could answer, Bob Human was on his feet, speaking to the man softly: “Look, fellow,” he said, pointing a forefinger. “We all know that you've been drinking for a while and you feel like a giant, but there ain't nobody at this table that you can whip. I'm suggesting that you take a walk while you're still healthy.”

“You're suggesting?” the man asked, turning to face Human. “You're suggesting? And who might you be?”

When Human failed to answer the man's question, Jolly Ross spoke. “He's not gonna tell you who he is, fellow, but I will. I'll tell you because it just might save your life. His name is Bob Human.”

The man stiffened and began to stammer. “Bob … Bob Human? Bob Human from the lower Rio Grande country?” When he received no answer, he continued: “Well, I certainly don't want no trouble with you, Mister Human, no, sir. What I'd really like to do is shake your hand.” He pushed his right hand forward for a handshake.

Human ignored the hand. He began to shake his head, then made a quick motion with his thumb, indicating that the man should be somewhere else. “Git!” he said sternly.

“I'm leaving,” the man said, beginning to move across the room sideways. “I sure ain't looking for no set-to with a man like you.” He continued walking till he was out the front door.

Human reseated himself and reached for the whiskey bottle. As he refilled his glass, Zack was paying close attention to the man's hands, noting that they were as steady as a rock. Unusual, Zack was thinking. It was hard for him to imagine a man not being at least a little bit rattled after facing down a man who was obviously a gunfighter. Zack reached for the bottle to refill his own glass, all the while remembering Jolly Ross's words the day he brought Human to the ranch for the first time. “Bob Human's a good man to have around when the going gets rough,” Jolly had said. “That skinny bastard's got ice water in his veins.” Zack nodded at his thoughts, then began to sip his whiskey.

*   *   *

Bret Rollins arrived at the ranch two days later. Zack had just eaten an early supper and stepped into the yard when he spotted Rollins riding up the hill. Seeing Zack, Rollins waved his hat, then kicked his roan to a fast trot. He dismounted in the yard a few moments later, tying the saddler and the packhorses to the hitching rail. He grasped Zack's outstretched hand and squeezed his shoulder. “Seems like I've been gone for a year or two, partner. This place looks good.” He looked farther up the hill to the large stacks of hay and the pen that had been constructed to contain the bulls. “I'm glad to see that you're prepared, Zack; we've got cattle coming.

“I left the bulls on the Leon River two nights ago, and they should be here in less than three days. The deal I made with Baskin guarantees live delivery right here at the ranch, and he sent four of his own riders to make sure that happens. They're all good men, Zack, and they certainly understand the value of the stock they're driving. They look after those bulls like they were little lambs.”

Zack smiled. “I like the sound of that,” he said, taking a seat on the edge of the porch. “What kind of luck did you have in getting the longhorns?”

“Bought a thousand cows for five dollars a head. When Gonzalez offered to have the herd delivered here at the ranch for an additional dollar and a quarter a head, I jumped on the deal with both feet. His men already had about two hundred head gathered and branded when I headed for Fort Worth to get the bulls. I expect the longhorns to be here within a week or two.”

Zack sat quietly for a moment, then looked his partner squarely in the eye. “I'm proud of what you've done, glad I'm gonna be a part of what's about to take place here. I've dreamed about something like this for what seems like a hundred years, and now it's about to happen.” He got to his feet and waved his arm toward the eastern meadow. “We're getting the cattle at the right time, Slick. Just look at all that green grass popping through. Another week and it'll be just right.”

“I noticed it right away, Zack. If we manage to get a little rain once in a while, it'll grow faster than the cattle can eat it.”

Rollins untied his horses and turned toward the barn, only to have Jolly Ross lift the reins from his hand. “I'll take care of the horses,” Ross said. “Welcome home. Vittles are still warm over at the cookshack, and old Dixie's dishing up some mighty good stuff today.”

“Thank you, Jolly,” Rollins said as Ross led the animals away. “I'm hungry enough to eat whatever he's got.”

The aging cook hugged Rollins as a father would a son, then served him a platter of roast beef, potatoes and turnip greens. The Peoples brothers had planted the turnips shortly after their arrival, and one of them usually picked a mess of greens for the cook each morning.

Dixie poured a cup of hot coffee and placed it at Rollins' elbow, saying, “It's nice to see a good-looking face around here for a change. Eat up.” Rollins ate two helpings of everything.

Jolly Ross and Bob Human left the ranch at sunup the following morning, headed north. It was their intention to intercept the riders driving the bulls and lead them to the holding pen, which was within seeing distance of the ranch house. “I don't think you'll have any problem finding them,” Rollins said to Ross as the two men mounted their horses. “They make enough noise to wake the dead.”

“That's what I'm counting on,” Ross said. He kicked his gray in the ribs and left the yard at a canter.

Long after the hands had ridden out, Hunter and Rollins were still sitting on the doorstep talking. Bret had spent more than an hour filling Zack in on the details of his trip to East Texas. “Sounds to me like you had no choice but to shoot Joe Plum and his Cousin Billy,” Zack said after learning about the incident at Bryan.

Rollins smiled. “Well, I had one other choice, which was to give 'em everything I had and let 'em leave my ass in the river.” He chuckled loudly. “I didn't think you'd like that.” They were quiet for several minutes, then Rollins broke the silence with a different subject. “Is Jolly Ross gonna be the ranch foreman?”

“That's the way I've been thinking, Bret. What do you say about it?”

“I don't say anything, Zack. As Grandpa Rollins used to say, ‘That's your red wagon.' You have the full say-so about what goes on around here, and I don't have to be consulted about anything.