The Red River Ring (6 page)

“And he came. Without questioning any of this, he came.”

“Yes. It's the kind of thing that he's really good at. He's always been a violent man and he's always loved it.”

“You think that's all it is? His love of a good fight?”

“Yes.”

Temple straightened himself and turned to face them. “I think you've sold him short. I don't think you ever understood how he thought or what he stood for.”

“Because I'm a woman? Is that what you mean?”

“I don't think you've ever understood me either. He was never gone. He's always been here in one way or another. I remember how it was before he went to war.”

“You deceive yourself, Temple. You only remember what's convenient,” she said coldly.

He smiled, looked at Bloomberg in frustration, and nodded. “Yes, Mom. Whatever you say.”

There were few words when they left. He turned away from her after helping her into the buggy. There was no goodbye kiss, no parting wave. When they were gone, he went to the corrals and saddled his blue roan. He would need his best horse.

Chapter VII

Pommel drew his camp blanket close to his shoulders and poured himself another cup of coffee from the small pot next to the campfire. He drew his revolver and rested it on his leg as he squatted by the fire. Whoever was out there beyond the campfire light was not trying to put the sneak on him but he couldn't be sure of the intent.

“Hello to camp,” the voice called.

“Hello,” Pommel said as he cocked the Remington's hammer.

“Can I share your fire?”

“Bring your cup. I'll pour some coffee.”

A tall man stepped into the light. He wore typical Texas cowboy duds, a tall hat and stovepipe leggings. A Colt revolver was holstered on his right hip and a large Bowie on his left. He led a blue roan with an A-frame saddle and monkey faced tapaderos. When his features shown in the light, Pommel immediately recognized him.

“I don't think the dregs have been reached yet,” Pommel said as he uncocked the Remington and placed it back in his holster. “Get out your cup and have some.”

Temple fished his cup from his saddlebags and squatted by the coffeepot. “You planning on just camping out here or what?”

Pommel cut his eyes to Temple's back for a sign or reaction. Temple talked like he knew who he was. He decided that he probably did. “It's been a long time. I didn't think that you would remember what I looked like.”

“You haven't changed that much. A little older, grayer, but I'd know you in a crowd,” Temple said looking into the campfire.

“I'm riding south to the Rio and thought I'd pass by,” Pommel said.

“No, you aren't. Mom wrote you about our situation and asked you to help. I figure you've already been to Pampa and back. I guess you just figured to ride around out here and keep everyone's head low.”

“No, actually I was planning on paying a visit to your mother and ask her some more questions,” Pommel said, enormously impressed with Temple's frankness and insight.

Temple placed his cup close to the fire and began unsaddling his roan. “I guess I'll just share your fire tonight. We can spend some time talking. Maybe I can answer your questions.”

Pommel went to his feet and cleared a spot for Temple's saddle and blankets. “I suppose I ought to fix another pot. This might take a while and a good cup of coffee helps on a cool night.”

Temple dropped his saddle in Pommel's clearing and began slipping hobbles on his roan. “I'll gather some more wood for the fire. We're far enough south that I don't think we need to worry about a raid.”

“Dead mesquite over there. We've plenty of firewood,” Pommel said as he sloshed the pot dregs and dumped the grounds next to the fire.

As Temple unrolled his blankets next to his saddle, he watched his father making coffee and smiled. Nothing had changed. He wondered if it was same coffee pot. He watched him heat the water to boiling, then two handfuls of ground coffee tossed straight into the water, then about a cupful of cold water to settle the grounds. He had only gone out with his father on a long trip once before the war, but he learned more than any other single swing to follow. He figured he must have been no older than eight when they made that ride. He remembered how he thought that his dad was the best rancher in the world and how he wanted to be just like him when he grew up.

“What you been doing all these years?” Temple asked as Pommel poured a fresh cup of coffee.

“I spent fifteen years trail bossing after the war. Ran cattle to Sedalia, Missouri, then Abilene, Kansas, Wichita and Ellsworth. My last six drives went to Dodge City. When the railroads finally made it to Texas, I bought a small place northwest of Dallas. I run cattle and a herd of brood mares.”

“Did you ever remarry?”

“No. I have a little senorita keeping me company now that I've settled but otherwise I've lived alone. What about you?”

“Me neither. Too hard to find the time or the woman. Reese is married and has two daughters.”

“Really? How old?”

“Angie is nine and Martha is seven.”

“What's their mother like?”

“Sarah is a small thing, dark and pretty. The girls are round faced and blond like their dad.”

Pommel smiled and nodded. “Imagine that. Round faced and blond like their dad.”

“You'd know Reese. We look a lot alike.”

“I figured as much,” Pommel said. “He was the image of you when he was a toddler.”

Temple decided to ask about the day his father returned from the war. He was burning to know what happened. “I was digging fence post holes on the hill when you came back. It took me a while to make it down. By the time I got there, you were already riding away.”

Pommel nodded, uncomfortable with the memory. “Yeah.”

“I went to check on Mom. I was afraid you might have killed her.”

There was a long pause.

“No, I'd have never harmed her that way,” Pommel said quietly.

“She was crying. I asked her if she was all right…”

“I figured it was over and I didn't have anything to say,” Pommel said.

“You never asked?”

“I guess it didn't matter much.”

“I wish you would have said something to me. I wish…”

“The war took a lot out of me. We like to starved those last few months. Twenty of us joined in ‘62. Nine of them died during those last months. I was the only one to go home. When I saw your mother, I guess I just lost it. I joined a trail herd and after that, time sort of got lost. The years passed and I figured it was just too late.”

“Reese and Pac think you're dead. They don't know what happened. Mom never told them about the money you sent.”

“It was probably easier for her that way.”

“I suppose. She worked hard during those years. We all did.”

“Yeah, I imagine it was tough,” Pommel answered staring into the fire. He wanted to change the subject but realized that Temple had a lot to get off his chest. Better to do it now and get it out of the way.

“She married John Fellows when Reese turned twenty. After that she lived in town with him.”

“What's he like?” Pommel asked.

“He's a good enough guy for a dude. He's a storekeeper and bookkeeper for Blomberg. Doesn't know upside out about cattle. He was after her for years to marry him. I think she waited until Reese and I were old enough to take care of ourselves.”

“I ran into Pac the other day. He tried to put the rush on me. I sent his pinto home and put him afoot.”

Temple laughed. “Is that what happened? He told us his horse run off while he was taking a shit.”

Pommel poured himself and Temple another cup of coffee. “He shit all right. He's lucky I didn't blow him out of his saddle. If he hadn't let slip his name I might have.”

Temple nodded. “Pac marches to a different drummer. He always has. Most of the time I wonder if he's playing with a full deck. Mom can control him some. He and Reese get along like hot coals and spring water.”

“And you?”

“I get along with him alright. Most of the time I can keep him from going off. Mom's pretty protective so I watch how I handle him.”

“Maybe you need to send him packing. Make him grow up,” Pommel suggested.

“He's my brother. It would kill Mom if I did that. I couldn't do that without hurting her.”

“Well, we wouldn't want to hurt your mother.” Pommel regretted the statement the instant he made it.

“No, I wouldn't. I wouldn't want to see her hurt,” Temple said defensively.

Pommel shook his head and stared into the fire. “I wouldn't want you to either. I was out of line.”

“So why did you come?”

“Because she asked me,” Pommel said softly.

“Is that all it took?”

“Yes, I guess it was. It was time I tried to work things out with you and Reese.”

“Nothing to work out,” Temple said. “You made your choice and she made hers. I sort of wished you'd come back when I was younger. I didn't like hiding the truth from Reese. After a while, it became the truth for all of us. Then, well, I guess you were dead as far as all of us were concerned.”

“Maybe we should leave it that way,” Pommel said.

Temple thought carefully. “I don't know about that. Reese has a right to know.”

“Pac doesn't,” Pommel said abruptly. “Can you tell one without the other finding out?”

“Why not? Reese and Pac have little to do with each other. They grow farther apart every day.”

“You can figure that one out. Maybe you ought to ask Mary?”

“No, she has nothing to do with this one. She took it upon herself to write you and get you into this mess. What happens from now on is for you and me to decide.”

“You sound angry.”

“I'm tired of you and Mom making those kinds of decisions. I'll do what I think is right.”

Pommel smiled. Whatever had happened in the past, he liked the son that Mary had raised. He figured he was probably a better man than most. Temple's judgment was certainly as good as his. “It's your show. I ain't here to take over. You do what is best.”

“I will. I always have,” Temple said bitterly.

Pommel nodded and sloshed the remains in his cup.

“If you really want to help, I've got a job for you that's a hell of a lot more important than riding around the range looking for trouble,” Temple said.

“What's that?”

“The Ring has me boxed in. I've got at least seven hundred head to get to the railhead in Amarillo. I can't take the herd without leaving the ranch. The minute they know I'm gone, I figure they'll hit the ranch. They've burned several places to the ground. Reese has the freight operation to run and he's got a family. Pac is too hot headed. None of the men will listen to him. If you could drive the herd, I could defend the ranch.”

“What do we tell the others?”

“Just what you are, a professional trail boss. That's all they need to know for now.”

“What about the other ranchers? Won't they join in an organized drive?”

“They're too scared to do anything. The only one with any fight left is Blomberg and he's too crippled and old. Here of late he's backed off. He doesn't want us to pull a raid like Reese suggested. He's afraid how it will look in Austin. He says the law will only come down on us.”

“Ought to be the same law for everyone.”

“Ought to be. That's what I said. Blomberg says it isn't.”

“If there's no law for Bent and Colredge, then there's no law for me,” Pommel said sullenly.

“You gonna help me or not?” Temple asked abruptly.

Pommel threw a couple of mesquite limbs into the flames and watched them take fire. “Yes, I'll do whatever you think is best.”

“I'll pay you regular foreman's wages,” Temple said.

“No money. I'll do it because I'm trying to repay a past debt to you, or I won't do it at all,” Pommel said in a determined voice.

Temple nodded. “I'm too cornered to argue. I ain't going to hassle about that.”

Pommel smiled and emptied the pot into their cups. “Good enough. It's your show.”

They talked for a while but soon went to their bedrolls. Pommel was relieved that it had gone as well as it had. He had expected anger, maybe even a bullet or two to dodge. Temple wouldn't have been without the right. But there were questions that troubled him about Pac and Blomberg. He figured he would wait a spell and see what developed. Perhaps it was best that the others didn't know about Pac's relationship with Bent. Maybe he could use it to his advantage if things got out of hand and he needed a draw card.

Whatever, he had never met a man that he liked better than Temple. She had done a good job. He owed her that.

Chapter VIII

I

Sulky Pearson lifted the hem of her nightgown and made a quick dash across the farmyard to the barn. She stopped by the barn and whispered a call to the dog, Tobe. He came to her wagging his tail. Sometimes in the dark he didn't recognize her and his barking had wakened her father. Once she was satisfied that the dog would be no problem she stepped through the barn door and threw herself into the arms of Pac.

He couldn't wait to feel her breasts and hold her. He kissed her and whispered in her ear. “I've missed you, honey.

She lifted her skirt and placed his hand between her legs. “Do it, Pac. Do it now.”

He laughed and picked her off her feet. “Hold on, now. You can wait till we get to the loft.”

“No, I can't. Do it now,” she giggled as she struggled free and fumbled with the buttons of his trousers.

“Alright, if that's the way you want it.” He unbuckled his gun belt and let it drop to the ground.

She turned, lifted her nightgown over her head and flung it aside. She stepped to the manger and leaned down, taking hold of the edge. “This way, Pac. We've never done it this way.”

He watched her assume the position and admired the beauty of her blond hair, five-foot stocky frame, butt and back. He stepped to her and went in easily. As they made love, she began whimpering and groaning.

“Quiet, Sulky. You'll wake your old man,” he whispered loudly.

She increased the rhythm and clenched her teeth to keep from making more noise.

When he finished, she turned and drew him to her for a long kiss. “Again,” she whispered breathlessly.

“What right now? We've got to wait a few minutes,” he stammered.

“Why?” she giggled. “Don't you love me?”

“You don't have any idea how much,” he laughed.

“Why don't you come to see me more often? I thought you'd never be back. I couldn't wait.”

“It's been three days. How often do you expect me to come?”

“If you'd do what Tom wants, we could be together every night. Every night!”

“Your old man wouldn't like it.”

“If we had a place of our own, he wouldn't have a say. All he cares about is my cooking and cleaning and choring. As long as I service him every week or so, he's happy. I don't want him doing me no more, Pac. I want you to do me.”

“I'm working on it. Things ought to break loose any day. When they do I'll come and get you.”

She pulled away and crossed her arms over her breasts. “You said that last time, and the time before that. I can't wait no more.”

He lifted her and carried her to the stall haystack. He put her down on her back and lifted her knees over his shoulders.

She giggled and let him have his way. “I like it this way too,” she said breathlessly.

“You like it every way,” he groaned.

“Yes, I do. Ah, yes,” she moaned.

II

Black Tom Bent held up his mount and examined the ponies tied in front of the Waterhole. Three of them had Quick 5 brands. He stepped down, led his black to a hitch rail and looped the reins three times. He stepped to the boardwalk and through the swinging doors. Red Meadows, Bartello, Gamble and Burt Blake were at the bar sharing a round of Red Eye.

“You in the habit of hitting the bar in the middle of the day on my time?” Bent asked loudly.

“We are today. Colredge like to got our asses shot off,” Blake answered.

Bent stepped to the bar and signaled the bartender for a glass. “Since I'm probably buying, let me have a few fingers.” He downed a full shot glass and signaled for another. “Now how did you boys almost get your asses shot off?”

“Colredge sent us out to track down a galoot named Pommel McMurphy. He put the rush on us in Nab's office. I guess he killed Soap Withers then rode into Pampa as brazen as could be and offered to shoot anyone riding south of the Red. We lit out after him and he ambushed us at Solo Mesa. Shot ole Autry clean through the heart at five hundred yards,” Blake said.

“Poor Autry,” Bent said calmly.

“Yeah, shit! Poor Autry. I never saw such shooting.”

“McMurphy was a sniper for Johnston and Hood during the course of the war. He was the only cavalryman I know of that carried a scoped infantry rifle. Shit, I could have told you that,” Bent said before downing a third whisky.

“You weren't around though, were you?” Nab Colredge said from the doorway.

“I thought the agreement was that I ran the outriders and you ran the accounts,” Bent said.

“Like I said, you weren't here and I thought McMurphy was in a bad need of killing.”

“He is,” Bent said as he poured another. “He could muck up the whole works. I had everything and everybody in my pocket. I figured with one good raid, we could wipe out most of their outfit and take over the Palo Duro. He could change everything. He's trail wise and smart. I didn't want him around and I never expected him to come around.”

“What happened? I thought we had a line on that,” Colredge asked.

“We do. The deal is worked out. Evidently Pommel's arrival was not in the plans.”

“We can't change our plans now just because of one man,” Colredge said.

Black Tom poured another whisky and opened his coat showing the custom horn-grip butts of his twin Colts in their shoulder holsters. “No, just the opposite. We need to hit them as soon as possible before the old man figures out what's going on.”

“What about the kid? I don't like trusting him. He's a loose cannon.”

“I've got the kid right where I want him. He'll keep quiet. When he finds out our whole plan it'll be too late.” Black Tom's straightened his tall frame and carried the bottle and glass to a table. With his thick black beard, unruly hair, heavy eyebrows and dark eyes, he looked like a Cossack in a western suit. He found a place for his knee high, fancy stitched boots and removed his coat and hat before sitting. As was his custom, he planned to remain at the table until the bottle was empty. “You men need to head for the ranch. Red, I want you to bring in the riders as soon as possible. In two days we'll ride for the ranch. They're going to gather the herd. I want to hit the cattle and the main ranch at the same time. We'll burn the buildings to the ground and take their north herd in one sweep. When they come north after the herd, we'll wipe out what's left of them. I figure that in a week, it will all be over with the McMurphys.”

The riders left the saloon, leaving Blake, Colredge and Bent. Colredge ordered a beer and Blake brought another bottle to the table. They sat across the table from Bent as if he was a Black Jack dealer.

“I wish you had been able to take out the old man. If I know him, he'll be outriding, playing the lone hand, and hitting us from long range. With his experience in the war he could be a handful. We may have to move at night to avoid detection. Unless you think we can take him out.”

Blake shook his head. “I don't have any idea where he'd be. Our only answer would be to try to draw him into the open.”

“There's a way to do that if we can't get him before the raids. Reese McMurphy has a wife and two daughters. If we took them we might get Pommel to do something stupid,” Bent said.

“I don't like using women that way,” Colredge said. “It don't wash well with a lot of people.”

“I don't give a damn how it washes. When this is over I don't want a McMurphy left standing, male or female,” Bent said coldly. The liquor was having its usual effect.

“I don't know.”

“I do. You saw how McMurphy walked into your office without warning. That's the way he played the game in the old days. He never knew of me, but I knew him. I saw a lot of comprades taken by that son-of-a-bitch. He hung more than a few of them when he took control of the Palo Duro. He's unpredictable and that makes me nervous.”

“How do you know he'll take after the women?” Blake asked.

“Because he can't do anything else. Whatever may have passed between him and his old lady in the past they're still his granddaughters. He won't stand for it and he won't waste time waiting for help. He'll ride in after them even if he knows it's a trap.”

“I don't much like killing women,” Blake said.

“We ain't gonna kill them. Blond girls like that are worth a fortune in Mexico. The mother will bring good money as well with her looks. Where I plan on selling them, no one will ever hear of them again.”

Blake smiled and shook his head. “You've got it all figured, don't you?”

Tom poured another whisky, almost emptying the bottle. “I've waited for twenty years to take my revenge. Plenty of time to think and plan. When I drop the hammer on her, I want her to know that I've destroyed everything she's built. Then I'll have it all. The land, the cattle, and her ass in a sling.”

He flung his empty glass across the room. It exploded into bits of flying glass. Colredge and Blake raised their arms to protect their eyes.

Bent smiled and stared at the barren wall, his left hand fondling the empty bottle of whisky.