Caught Between Love And Duty

by Clarice Mayfield

  “That’s the spirit, Charles. All right now: you just stand ready by the fence over where the fire is, sir. Once Fran ropes the next calf, you climb into the corral. Charley will hand over the brandin’ iron. Then you bring it to the critter and smoke him on the left hip. It don’t take long. Just a quick burn like Francisco did, then give the iron back to Charley and hop over the fence. Eezee-peezee!”

  “Okay,” Charles smiled nervously, “my rheumatism isn’t too bad today so I should be able to make it over the fence. Just hope I can climb back out again. Ready, coach.”

  David handed him a pair of leather gloves and Charles walked around the corral to get into position near the branding fire. Once David saw that he was ready, he signaled the gate man and the cowboy let another calf into the ring. Francisco sprang after it on his horse and Charles started climbing the fence. Once the calf was lying on its side on the ground, the older man swung his leg over the top of the fence and climbed down to the other side.

  Charley handed him a GL iron. “Ouch, that’s warm!” Charles said, grasping the hot metal rod with both hands. Fran held the calf still with his arms and upper body as Warton seared the red-hot brand into its flesh. When smoke started rising up from the burnt hair and skin, Charles took the iron away and went back to the fence. He passed the iron to Charley with a grin.

  “Good work, Mr. Warton,” the old cowboy said.

  Unexpectedly, the hand at the horse gate swung it open for him, so Charles strolled back out of the corral. Applause erupted from David and Georgia.

  “Thanks, partner,” he said to the gatekeeper, “don’t know if I would have been able to climb that fence again.”

  When Charles got back over to his daughter, she gave him a warm hug. “That was wonderful, Daddy! Mama will be so proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Pumpkin,” he said, taking off the leather gloves and handing them to her. “Your turn, my dear.”

  “Really?” she said. “Do I have to?” Georgia looked over David. “I don’t like the smell of burnt cowhide.”

  “Oh, no,” David smiled, “you’re not gettin’ off the hook that easily, girl.”

  She took a deep breath and looked at her father. “You can do this, Pumpkin,” he said. Georgia put on the gloves and started walking slowly around the corral towards the fire. Charles began applauding, encouraging her onward. When she was in position and ready, Georgia gave a thumbs up to David.

  “Okay, let another one go!” he called to the hands.

  The calf pen opened and a big one charged out into the arena, snorting and kicking up its heels. Georgia felt butterflies in her stomach as Francisco’s horse followed it around the ring. Her legs were shaking as she climbed to the top of the fence. When Fran had the calf tied-up on the ground she jumped into the arena, grabbed the iron, and ran over to them.

  “Let me do this myself, Francisco,” she said.

  “Are you sure, Señorita?” he said, holding the squirming calf on the ground. “This is a big one.”

  “Yes. I want to do this.”

  “Si, Señorita!” he said, letting go of the animal. It began to wiggle and squirm harder as Georgia lowered the hot brand. She pushed it as hard as she could against the beast’s hip and held it there until a cloud of smoke had risen.

  “That is enough, Señorita,” Fran said. Georgia pulled the brand away and stared at the large “GL” burnt into the hide. She turned and ran back to the fence, handed the iron to Charley, then scrambled up to safety.

  “You were utterly magnificent, Pumpkin!” Charles exclaimed when she walked back to him, a triumphant and happy smile on her face. He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “Thanks, Daddy.” Georgia felt exhilarated at not only meeting the challenge of branding the calf but going beyond her own expectations in doing it.

  “You were so brave, my dear,” Charles said. “What do you think?” he asked David proudly. “Not bad for a Boston debutante, eh?”

  David looked at Georgia and nodded. “Well done, Georgie-girl,” he said appreciatively, “well done.”

  * * *

  That evening Charles and his daughter enjoyed a game of chess together on the veranda of the ranch house. It was their first match since he had arrived in Texas. The man was overjoyed that their relationship had finally been restored and the wedge that had been driven between them was gone. He felt more content, more alive than he had in years.

  He had seldom, if ever, seen his daughter so happy and this fueled his contentment even more. She seemed to be brimming over with joy at the new life she’d found in Sonora. To Charles, it was like she had made a one-hundred and eighty degree turn from the disappointed “spinster” she had been back east. Georgia was her own woman now. She had outgrown the milieu of a Boston socialite and embraced a life that truly inspired and challenged her. For this, he was deeply thankful.

  And what a procession of outrageous twists of fate had given her the opportunity to embrace this new life, he thought. The years of disappointments she endured in Boston from suitors who bored her to distraction. The ones who rejected her because they thought she was too outspoken.

  Charles knew that his daughter was at heart a sensitive soul. Over time these failures must have left deep scars and wounds.

  Was that one of the reasons she agreed to marry Abe Bishop so quickly? Did those wounds of the heart begin to fester to the point where Georgia had lost hope of ever finding a fulfilling life in Boston?

  And what disasters it took to tear her away from that old life! A freighter wreck in the Atlantic. An old friend – entirely too old – seized the opportunity to force her hand, and forced her into desperation. A young boy pointed her west with a newspaper full of bachelor’s ads. It could all have turned out so differently. Instead, it turned out so beautifully.

  “What strange alchemy fate and circumstance sometimes work in our lives, Pumpkin,” he said out of the blue.

  “What do you mean, Daddy?” Georgia asked. As far as she knew, he had been sitting there for ten minutes pondering his next move on the chess board.

  “I mean...this,” he said, waving an arm around at the Texas sky and hills. “I don’t understand it. How did we get here? How did a shipwreck and near bankruptcy and Abe Bishop and the Matrimonial News bring a bored Boston girl to Sonora to find the good life that she was born to live?”

  Georgia smiled. “I don’t know, Daddy, but I’ll take it!”

  “And I don’t understand how...” Charles paused as regret welled up in his heart, “...how a stubborn man who loves his daughter very much could have been so foolish to ask her to marry someone she hated.”

  Georgia stared in disbelief as her father’s eyes filled with tears. In her twenty-five years she had never seen him cry. “It’s okay, Daddy.”

  “No, Pumpkin, it’s not okay. I’m so sorry to have put you through that. I had no right. I don’t care how much losing the business would have affected your mother, or how frightened I was of starting over. It was wrong! And I am so ashamed...so deeply ashamed of putting our needs ahead of yours.” Tears began to flow freely down Charles’s face. He took off his spectacles and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. “Please forgive me, Georgia. I am a venal, stubborn old man.”

  She reached out and took his hand. “Yes, you are...so very often,” she smiled gently, blinking back her own tears now. Charles couldn’t help but laugh as he blew his nose into the handkerchief. “But Daddy, you did the best you could. And would we even be here now if you hadn’t been so stubborn? I don’t know, I don’t get it either. But here we are! Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “Yes. It is. I’m so happy for you, my girl.”

  She took both of his hands and her tears fell upon them as she leaned in close toward Charles. “I surely do forgive you, Papa. We all fall so short so often. You know, I lied to James about being a seamstress and bought a whole new wardrobe just to deceive him? It was so stupid of me. And yet – how did you say it? – what strange alchemy fate and circumstan
ce work in our lives. Despite all of that, good things mysteriously came out of it. So let’s enjoy this time now when blessing has come to us so amazingly.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” he said, blowing his nose again. “Thank you so much for your understanding and forgiveness, my dear. And I so enjoyed this afternoon together at the corral. You were magnificent the way you faced your fears and overcame them. I’m very proud of you, Georgia”

  “Thank you, Papa.” She got up and gave her father a hug as he sat in his chair. “You did pretty well yourself. I never thought I’d see the day when my daddy branded a Texas calf. It was amazing.”

  15

  That weekend Charles insisted on treating James, Georgia, Aunt Martha, and David to dinner at the Sutton County Hotel. They had so much reason for celebration, he said, “that it would be a sin not to.”

  So for Sunday night, a table for five was reserved in Arthur’s elegant dining room and the party arrived at seven o’clock. David and James were wearing their Sunday-go-to-meeting suits. The ladies wore their best dresses. And Charles, as always, was impeccably attired in his suit and vest.

  Like his daughter on an earlier occasion, the old man was surprised to find such an opulent hotel in a ranching town. “This friend of yours really outdid himself with this place, didn’t he, James?”

  “Yes, sir. I reckon so,” James smiled.

  “It’s a little highfalutin for my taste,” Aunt Martha confided to Charles, “but the food is very good.”

  “Well, that’s splendid then. I’m looking forward to sampling the cuisine. Where is our waiter?” he asked. The McCloud brothers and Martha all chuckled knowingly. Georgia smiled at her father.

  “What is it?” he asked, thoroughly puzzled by their mysterious grins. “Am I missing something here, people?”

  “Well sir, it’s a custom of this here particular dining room,” David said wryly, “that the host – that is the owner, Arthur Richards – is the first to greet customers after they’re seated. In fact, it’s one of Sonora’s favorite sights to watch him in action. He should come sweepin’ in at any moment now.”

  “Sweeping? Does he use a broom as well?” Charles joked.

  “Some of us would prefer it if he swept the French part of his act right out with the trash,” James laughed, “but Arthur don’t mean no harm by it, I reckon. Uh-oh, here we go. Looks like it’s show time, folks.”

  At the other side of the room the melodious voice of Richards began to sing out greetings over customer tables. He glided from one party to the next, shaking hands, smiling, suggesting dishes to enjoy from the Sutton’s “fabulous” menu. If Arthur didn’t know someone he asked their name, introduced himself, and thanked them profusely for dining at the hotel.

  When he reached the table from the Golden Lane his voice raised a semitone in pitch and hit a crescendo of volume. “And what have we here but the two lovebirds of Sutton County! Welcome, welcome, Georgia and James. David, Aunt Martha...lovely to see you.” Arthur’s eye’s fastened on the older gentleman. “And you must be the father of the bride-to-be. Mr. Charles Warton, I presume? Welcome to the Sutton, I’m Arthur Richards.”

  Charles shook his hand and complimented the immaculately dressed hotelier on his beautiful hotel and dining room. “Thank you and merci, Mr. Warton,” Arthur sang out. “I must say, however, that the Sutton in all its glory is not half as beautiful as your lovely daughter. My congratulations on her upcoming marriage to our esteemed Sheriff McCloud.”

  “Thank you kindly, Mr. Richards,” Charles said.

  “I have heard that it was a bit of a challenge for you to get to the point where you agreed to their union, sir, but I understand that sometimes such situations can become... shall we say... complicated.”

  “Very much so,” Charles agreed somberly, “and I’m afraid that I myself made it more complicated than it ever had to be.” He looked over at Georgia and she smiled back appreciatively. “But I’m happy that the situation is resolved now. In fact, that’s why we’re all here tonight, my good man: to celebrate my daughter’s wedding to the sheriff and all the blessings that have come to the Warton and McCloud families of late.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you are, Mr. Warton. It’s just a pity that it took the death of your friend to help sort the situation out,” Arthur said.

  “Excuse me?” Charles sputtered in surprise.

  Arthur lowered his voice. “Oh, you know as a hotelier I do hear pretty much everything that happens in this town, sir. The death of your friend and financier has not escaped the Sonora rumor mill, I’m afraid. Please accept my condolences at the loss of your friend.”

  “Thank you,” Charles replied, a bit taken aback that the news of Abe’s passing had become public knowledge so quickly.

  “Arthur,” James said, “I think Charles has been through enough lately without you bringing it up here right now.”

  “Yes, you’re right my friend. And you’ve certainly been through quite a bit yourself lately,” Richards continued, not missing a beat. “It must have been a great shock discovering that your mail-order seamstress is actually a Boston debutante,” he laughed.

  James had heard enough. He stood up and took Arthur by the arm. “Excuse us for a moment, folks,” he said, leading his friend out of the dining room. Heads turned at the other tables and watched them go, wondering what had happened.

  When the two men disappeared through the exit, the Golden Lane party glanced at each other in puzzled silence.

  “Well then...everybody ready to order?” David joked half-heartedly. Nobody laughed.

  “What was that all about?” Charles wondered.

  “I don’t rightly know,” David said, “never seen Arthur be that tactless before. Sorry about that, Charles.”

  Georgia looked thoughtful. “I haven’t apologized to you two yet, Martha and David. I’m so sorry for the lie about being a seamstress. I didn’t want to scare James off by telling him I was a society girl. Please forgive me for that deception.”

  “We surely do forgive you, gal,” Martha said, putting her hand on Georgia’s and patting it gently. “Don’t we, David?”

  David nodded. “You betcha. And there sure weren’t nothin’ high-society about the way you branded that calf the other day, Georgie.”

  With that remark, smiles returned to the table. “Yes,” Charles said, “I never thought I’d see the day when my little girl branded a steer. It was outstanding, Pumpkin.”

  “To our new cowgirl!” David said, raising his glass of water in a toast.

  “And to our new cowboy,” Georgia said, raising a glass toward her father. “I’m proud of you, Daddy.”

  * * *

  “We need to talk in private for a minute,” James said to Arthur after escorting him out of the dining room.

  “Okay, okay,” Richards grumbled, “let’s go to my office.”

  They entered the suite and both took a seat on the couch, one at each end. “What’s going on, Arthur? I’ve never seen you be that rude before. You always play the perfect host.”

  “I’m sorry, James. I was very tactless there.”

  “Sure were, partner. You embarrassed my fiancée and father-in-law. What’s up?”

  “I don’t know. There’s been a lot of strain with the business lately... maybe it’s gotten to me. Sorry for offending your family like that.”

  “If you got business troubles maybe I can help,” James offered.

  “No, we’re doing okay. Thanks. It’s just the hectic pace, I think.”

  “Well, don’t hesitate to ask if you need any help. You know we’re always here for you, partner. Always have been, always will.”

  “I know. You are my best friend in this world,” Arthur said.

  “Same here, amigo. Come on, let’s head back and join the party,” James smiled. “And mind your manners, will ya?”

  * * *

  Blue Shadow heard the pigeon flutter into the cave. He watched it sail downward, perch on the feed rock and begin to pe
ck at the grain. He got up quickly and went over to it.

  “So, little one, has the time come at last?” he said to the bird. After unwrapping the message from its leg, he lit the oil lamp and held the paper close to the bright, glowing glass:

  Take the girl from the ranch by yourself when the men are working. Bring her to the cave and keep her there.

  He chortled in disgust and threw the paper onto the cave floor. “Of course Shadow will take Green Eyes by himself: your men all dead or run away! Foolish chief. Chief Broken Head!”

  The Comanche picked up his dart pipe and slung it over his shoulder. He checked the load of his Colt revolver and slung it into the holster. After writing his “OK” message, he went over and opened the door of the pigeon cage. Reaching inside, Shadow grasped the creature in one hand, attached the message, and threw the bird into the air. It flew upwards toward the skylight and the Indian stood there watching it go. Then he picked up the oil lamp and began walking.