Chaparral Range War (9781101619049) Read online

  They stopped off at one more place. Ted Rawlings and his wife, Lillian, a large, rawboned woman with teenage children. They operated a freighting and ranch business by themselves. Rawlings was a tough man who spoke of his support for more law and order. Guthrey felt this man would be a strong backer of any efforts to stop Whitmore and to get the sheriff thrown out of office. They shook hands and Guthrey and Dan started back for the ranch.

  Guthrey laid out that part of the region in his mind while they rode through the chaparral. His life might someday depend on his knowledge of the lay of this land. They moved through some of the Bridges-branded cows and calves scattered near a small water tank. How many cattle did the two own? The 87T scar on the right side of the cattle made an obvious mark of ownership, as did the two ear notches on the other side that were registered with the brand. An easy way to identify them coming or going.

  In late afternoon, they arrived back at the ranch and saw Cally’s wash flapping in the wind that was propelling the creaking windmill. In a brown skirt and blouse, Cally looked fresh coming out of the house to greet them. Guthrey and Dan told her about their day as they unsaddled.

  “Salty said he’d see us at the dance.” Dan spoke to her like that was a question she’d need to answer.

  Guthrey paused for a moment before removing the saddle off his horse and wondered how she’d answer him.

  “Can you dance, Guthrey?” she asked, shuffling her work shoes and not looking at him.

  He laughed and heaved the rig off his horse’s back. “I can sure step on your toes doing it.”

  “That’s all that I need.” Then she laughed and nodded her head. “Why don’t we? I’m in favor. We haven’t done that since before we lost Dad.”

  “Guess we better go, then,” Dan said.

  “You two promise not to start any fights?” She looked at them for an answer.

  “I don’t want to fight,” Guthrey said.

  Dan agreed. “I don’t want to either.”

  She shook her head. “I suggest each of you buy a new shirt and pants for that event.”

  His saddle on the hitch rail, Guthrey thanked her.

  “Supper around six,” she said.

  Guthrey heard her and went to the barn. He unloaded the new cartridge revolver model .45 Colt he wore, cleaned the entire works, and lightly oiled the weapon. Since he had not recently fired the weapon, he didn’t boil the barrel and cylinders.

  “You pay a lot of attention to that gun of yours,” Dan said, watching him all the time.

  He looked the youth in the eye. “I live by this piece of iron. If it doesn’t work when I need it, I’ll be dead. It ain’t a lot of work considering I am betting my life on it working right.”

  Dan nodded. “I guess if you think like that—it needs to be clean.”

  “Tell me about the dance,” he said, slipping the weapon back in his holster.

  “It’s a social. Everyone brings food. Potluck. Then they dance, slow, fast, and faster.”

  “Do you dance?” Guthrey asked.

  “Some. How about you?”

  “I can dance. Let’s look at the wagon and make sure it don’t fall apart going over there.”

  “Sure, but it’s all right.”

  “Let’s look anyway.” That boy certainly needed to learn to check on things before they broke down. Maybe his father did all that and never mentioned it to him. Guthrey’s grandfather had taught him how to do those things. He made Guthrey respect examining things like wagon gears and saddles, cinches, horse’s backs and hooves.

  During their inspection of the buckboard, they discovered the wheels needed to be greased and planned to do it in the morning since Cally had called them to come eat supper.

  Washing up on the porch, Guthrey and Dan made small talk about other ranch things. Cally stuck her head out the door. “Are you two coming?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Guthrey said. They were coming. This was a peaceful enough corner out of the busy rest of the world. He found that some of his mental guards had become relaxed. That might be all right. He’d been under lots of pressure with his last Ranger job. Time would tell how his stay here would work out.

  * * *

  THE REST OF the week they spent their days checking range cattle for any signs of screwworms. These flesh-eating maggots attacked any cut in the cattle’s flesh and soon killed the victim if not treated. They found several head that needed to be roped and treated with an ether-tar compound. Dan proved to be a good roper and caught anything they found that needed to be doctored or simply checked. Guthrey heeled the cattle’s back legs in his rope and held them for him, and Dan bragged about how their two-roper partnership sure beat his one-man operation out hollow.

  By Friday, Guthrey’s roping had improved a lot too. It had been years since he’d done much cowboying, but he soon fit in place, helping the boy. No problems came up with Whitmore. If anything, it was maybe too quiet—a man like that never quit doing underhanded things to suit his purposes. He was simply planning for something more.

  TWO

  THEIR DESTINATION SATURDAY afternoon was the Cane Springs Schoolhouse. Lots of folks were on the dusty road that evening headed for the event. Dan drove the team, sitting on the spring seat with his sister in her new blue dress. Dan had another roan horse hitched behind. Guthrey had borrowed one of Dan’s better-looking horses for his ride over, a tall bay gelding Dan called Big Joe. Other people were coming in buggies and wagons. Three boys about twelve years old rode burros and caught up with them.

  He could tell they were admirers of Dan’s. He’d seen that right off. They set up a big conversation with him about something and beat their burros’ butts to make them keep up with his wagon and team.

  At the Cane Springs Schoolhouse, lots of folks were scattered about setting up camps around the whitewashed building. Dan drove right to their campsite and told Guthrey that this was the spot. Plenty of work to do setting up the tent and canvas fly. They’d brought a load of wood for campfires and cooking. Their four horses on a picket line, Guthrey, under Cally’s direction, commenced to put up the wall tent. In no time the three of them had it in place, staked in the ground, and she handed down cots and bedding from the wagon to set up later inside the tent.

  “It is sure good to have you along,” she said to Guthrey when he lifted her by her waist and set her on the ground. “This usually took us forever, just the two of us making camp. Didn’t it, Dan?”

  Her brother wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve. “Forever. This so far isn’t half-bad.”

  Cally swung a pot of water over the fire that Guthrey had started. “Won’t be long till there’s coffee, guys.”

  Women of various ages came by and spoke to Cally. She introduced Guthrey to them when he was handy. He and Dan were busy putting up the canvas fly more for shade than rain protection under the cloudless sky. But it all was part of Cally’s “camping” requirements. The setup completed, the menfolk rested in canvas folding chairs, and she prepared supper. Guthrey planned on a siesta if events would let him take one.

  “Does Whitmore’s bunch drop in here?” he asked.

  “Not often,” Dan said. “They ain’t too welcome.”

  “I savvy that. But that wouldn’t bother them.” Guthrey pulled his hat down to shade his eyes and made himself comfortable, stretched out in the chair in the shade.

  “Hey, while you get some shut-eye, I’m going to look for some of my buddies and see what’s been happening. Rest easy. I’ll be back,” Dan said.

  Guthrey thanked him and was resolved to sleep a little. Children ran around shouting, but he found them no threat to himself and he closed his eyes. Nice to just catch some extra rest.

  * * *

  NOT TOO LONG into his siesta, Cally whispered something in Guthrey’s ear about trouble arriving. His hand went for his gun
butt. The sound of her urgency ignited him to be on guard.

  “Easy.” She held his gun arm. “Whitmore’s big man Bud Hampton just rode in with two of his gun slicks, asking for you.” Her face looked ashen white.

  Guthrey removed his hat and sat up, looking and acting like nothing bothered him. But his purpose was to assess the situation some. Cally was on her knees beside him with her hands in her lap.

  “Which one is he?” he asked, leaning toward her.

  “See the one that’s riding the buckskin horse?” She rose up and looked the other way.

  “Yes. Is Hampton wearing that big black hat?” The man weighed about two hundred pounds, maybe more. “That’s him, huh? Does he usually come to these events?”

  “No, but he’s here and he’s been asking for you.” Her green eyes looked wary and upset.

  “Hmm.”

  “Didn’t you order Whitmore around the other day?” she whispered.

  “Sure, but there’s lots of people here who aren’t on his side.”

  “His bunch don’t care. They’re ruthless bullies.”

  He made a face at her. “Did they really ask for me?”

  “That’s how I know. I heard them when they asked someone coming up this way. ‘Where’s that blankety Ranger?’”

  No rest for the wicked. Guthrey rubbed his smooth-shaven face and tried to wake up some more. “Thanks. You just be sure that Dan doesn’t get mixed in this business. No matter what happens.”

  She gathered her dress and stood up. “I’ll do that. You be careful. Those three men are killers.”

  He nodded and when he stood up, he shifted his gun belt into place. He set his hat on his head where he wanted it. In no hurry, he started down through the camp after the ones who were seeking him. Some men spoke to each other when he went past them. Not fifty feet from Cally’s camp, several men, heads of family, began to get up and follow him. His followers waved for others to join them.

  The Whitmore crew reined up and halted their horses close to the front door of the school building. The big man, Hampton, spoke to one of men in the group standing there, then checked his tall horse again to make him stand still.

  Guthrey read the look on Hampton’s hard face when he caught sight of him—cold as an iceberg despite the midafternoon heat.

  “Folks said you’re looking for me,” Guthrey said.

  Hampton turned with a cold fish-eye look at him. “Your name Gufrey?”

  “Close, but not that. My name’s Guthrey. What do you need?”

  “All these men backing you?” Hampton gave a head toss at the followers behind him.

  Guthrey looked back and then turned to face him. “I think they are. Let’s drop those guns of yours, real careful-like, and then you three can ride out of here. I don’t want you to wake any sleeping babies.”

  “I ain’t—” Then Hampton must have seen the determination in the faces of Guthrey’s backers. “Drop ’em, boys.”

  From their hard looks around at things, the two men with Hampton didn’t appear to like the situation, nor his orders. However, they agreed and dropped their weapons, but not without some grumbling.

  “How do we get them guns back?” Hampton asked, his face growing red with anger.

  “I have no idea.”

  “We’ll see about this,” Hampton ripped out and spurred his anxious, prancing horse around. “You’re going to wish you never lived before I’m through with you.”

  “Hampton!” Guthrey shouted. The anger he felt was under control, but he wanted to answer the man’s threats.

  “What?” Hampton jerked his horse roughly around.

  “Wear your best clothes next time you come asking for me.”

  “What in the hell for?”

  “So they can bury you in them.”

  The crowd quickly parted to let Hampton and his men charge away on horseback. Guthrey knew he’d tossed the gauntlet down for war.

  “Can you beat them?” Cally asked when she rushed over to join him, looking upset by the confrontation.

  He realized he was madder than he’d intended to let them get him. Those three riding right into a peaceful crowd of men, women, and children, looking for trouble, was not only disrespectful, but a damn belligerent act in the first place. A rude show of force, he’d call it. “I don’t know, Cally, but someone needs to stop them from riding in here roughshod to terrorize these people.”

  She nodded and swallowed hard. “They’ve never been called to task before—by anyone.”

  “It’s time someone did that, then.”

  “What about their guns you made them drop?”

  “Some men picked them up so a kid didn’t get one. I guess those three’ve got the money to buy more.”

  She agreed and took his arm possessively, holding her dress tail in her other hand, and she headed him for the open double doors. “Well, Captain, let’s go eat and dance. We came here to forget them.”

  He looked aside at her in amazement, and then with a “What the hell,” went on inside the schoolhouse. One thing about California, she was sure a take-charge girl.

  The aroma of wonderful food sought his nose when they crossed the threshold. This was going to be a big treat for him; all these ranch women had tried their best to outdo each other. He remembered many such events in the hill country of Texas. His mouth flooded with saliva, and he stood in line behind Cally, looking around for Dan. Not seeing him, Guthrey figured he must be busy visiting with his friends. At least he hadn’t gotten into the fracas.

  Cally seemed to know everyone, and she stopped to visit with many, introducing Guthrey as her and her brother’s guest. No doubt the incident in the schoolyard with Hampton and the other two had everyone gossiping about the ex-Ranger among them. Several times he heard someone say, “He’s that Ranger.”

  If he’d really wanted notice, he’d sure gotten it. Like waving a brightly colored blanket at a mad bull, he’d done that to Whitmore and now to his main man. Twice, counting his running off the two gunmen in town his first day there. He’d better have eyes in the back of his head from here on. Whitmore would have to show he could even the score or he’d lose his hold on the rest of the fear he held over these folks.

  “You still thinking about those three?” Cally asked under her breath, sitting beside him on the bench against the wall, their plates in their laps heaped with food.

  He nodded and paused in his eating. “To think that those three came here to make trouble, in the middle of all these women and children, still burns me down.”

  “What would we have done without you?”

  “Oh, someone would have stood up and taken charge.”

  She leaned over to look in his face. “No. In the past they’ve all run like mice.”

  “Aw, Cally. People get pushed far enough, they’ll rise up. There was a killer in Texas who’d shot several people without cause. His presence scared folks in that small town to death. He made a big mistake—got drunk—and a masked posse hauled him out to a tree, then they drove a horse out from under him with a necktie fastened around a stout branch.”

  She shook her head. “That won’t ever happen here.”

  He busied himself eating. Who was the sheriff here? No lawman had been on the job in Steward’s Crossing when they were fixing to have the gunfight with Dan. No one even went after one as far as he could tell. He needed to meet the man in charge of the law in this country.

  “You enjoying the food?” Cally asked.

  “I like yours, but some of these dishes are great too.”

  She chuckled and then looked a little embarrassed. “I am not a great cook.”

  “Hey, you don’t need to deny anything. But what is this?” He fed her a bite from his fork.

  “A sweet potato dish,” she said.


  “I thought so.” Then he about laughed. What would people think of him feeding her off his utensil? He needed to be more careful. The two of them, no doubt, were under the scrutiny of many eyes. One day he’d probably ride on, but the redheaded gal seated beside him had to go on living here.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “What I just did might look bad to some folks. Me feeding you.”

  She shook her head and ducked her face to hide her amusement. “Oh my, how could you have done that?”

  “Well, I did it.”

  “At times I think you’re just a boy inside that shell.”

  “I ain’t. But I forget at times what people might think about my subtle actions.”

  “I am glad you’re so relaxed with me. I’m flattered.”

  “Your reputation won’t be flattered. I’ll be more careful from here on.”

  “You’re fine. You want more to eat?”

  He shook his head. “I’m too full.”

  “Give me your plate. I’ll go wash them and you can rest. I want to dance. They’re about to start playing music.”

  He laughed at her. “Rest? I’m not that old.”

  She shook her head. “I want to really dance.” She left with their plates and utensils to wash them in a large, soapy washtub, then rinse them in another. She came back in few minutes with her dishes in a cloth poke and set the bundle under the bench.

  The fiddler of the small band of musicians was starting a waltz. Guthrey took Cally’s hand and swept her toward the dancing area in a fashion that made her throw her head back and nod. “I knew you were lying to me about your dancing skills.”

  “All left boots,” he said to dismiss her words. They swung around, and she shook her head as if in disbelief. The evening proved to be one smooth dance after another. A fast-moving polka left them nearly out of breath, and they went outside to get some air. Her small hand squeezed his hard calloused one as they went out into the cooler night air.