Charlotte's Challenge

by Caroline Clemmons

  Jimmy spoke around a mouthful of ham. “Me, too. We’re ranchers and we hafta check on cattle and fences.”

  Bret met her gaze. “You heard Doctor Ross say I can ride now. I really want to learn about ranching. Besides, time I earned my keep.”

  She sighed and capitulated. “All right. Davie and Susie packed up our lunch. Supper is cooking slowly in the oven. Everyone carry his plate and cup to the dishpan. Then we can go check cattle.”

  “Yay, I wanna ride by Moose.” Jimmy dashed to be first for the sink and lost his fork and knife on the way.

  Susie almost tripped on the cutlery but kept her wits about her and stepped over them.

  Davie stumbled on Jimmy when the younger boy bent to the floor to recover his knife and fork. Jimmy’s plate went scooting across the floor.

  “Children, stop.” The three youngsters froze. “Jimmy get your things into the sink and be careful.” When Jimmy had done his chore and stepped away, she motioned the other two to do the same. Charlotte hoped this wasn’t an indication of how the day would go.

  Once the horses were saddled and they were ready to ride, she felt more composed. “Remember, children, you are to pay close attention to instructions. Stay with me unless I say otherwise. Do you understand?”

  All three answered they did as the group rode toward where the herd was grazing. Both dogs dashed around as happy as they could be. The sunlight, bright blue sky, and light breeze brightened her outlook. Riding with her family and new ranch hands further raised her mood. The rain several days ago had resulted in greener grass and the appearance of additional wildflowers.

  Bret dropped back to speak with her. “Are we still on your land?”

  “Yes, our ranch extends to that peak you see in the distance. Not huge by some standards but all we can manage.”

  “How many acres?”

  “Ike had a league. Then the land he bought and mortgaged our ranch for is half a league more.”

  A slight frown appeared on his forehead. “I’ve heard the term but don’t know exactly what it means. How much land is a league?”

  “Just over 4,400 acres. You can see why Winfield wants this property. We have direct access to the Brazos River as well as numerous creeks and springs.”

  “Almost seven thousand acres is impressive but the water makes it even more valuable.” He gestured ahead. “I heard there’s considerable danger of quicksand along the river.”

  “That’s true. I once read where someone was adamant that quicksand is never over four feet deep. Certainly that’s not true here. Entire wagons of goods and their teams of horses or mules have been lost.”

  “My word, have you seen this happen?”

  “Not personally, thank goodness, but I’ve talked to people who have had the losses. For example, the Daltons—they’re one of the couples at church—were moving here and lost everything except a small bundle Mrs. Dalton carried in her hands.”

  He looked aghast. “You mean also the wagon and horses?”

  She nodded. “Everything. Mr. Dalton didn’t have time to cut the team loose. Mrs. Dalton was expecting at the time and had to jump to her husband on the bank after he’d jumped first. You can imagine what a blow losing all their household goods, their wagon, and their animals would be to any family.”

  “Frightening to contemplate. How do you know your cattle won’t get caught in quicksand?”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “We don’t but perhaps they have an innate sense of where the quicksand is located. In addition to that danger, there are occasional nests of water moccasins and I’m sure you know they’re poisonous. After a rainstorm like the one we had a few days ago, their nests will be flooded and they’ll be in the grass and on bushes, even trees. I told you this is a harsh land but it’s also wonderful.”

  Bret was a handsome man even when he frowned as he was now. “I don’t know. Parts are beautiful but there are too many dangers, especially with people like this Winfield around.”

  “Can you think of a place or job where there aren’t drawbacks and people like Winfield?”

  He appeared to consider. “Reckon I can’t. All the same, seems there are a lot more life-threatening things about ranching than… for instance running a general store.”

  She laughed. “You’re probably right but this is the only place I’ve been involved in ranching so I can’t say for sure. You can ask Moose if this is usual.”

  “I will when we get back to the house.”

  “If you prefer, you can ask him if this ranch is being run properly.”

  He grinned and his eyes sparkled. “You’d shoot me if you knew what I’d prefer.” He rode away and caught up with Moose.

  She tried to wrap her mind around the possible meaning of what Bret had said. Before she could, she saw her son’s alarmed expression.

  With her permission Davie had ridden ahead but turned his horse and galloped back to her. “They’re gone!”

  “What do you mean?” Maybe she was still contemplating Bret. She tried to focus on Davie.

  He yelled his distress, “The cattle aren’t where we left them. None of them, not even one cow.”

  She kneed her horse and reached the front of their procession. Below the pasture and the winding river were clearly visible. Davie was right and the scene contained not even one cow or calf. She sagged in the saddle. This nightmare couldn’t be real.

  She shaded her eyes with her hand and scanned the area. “This isn’t possible. Even a small herd can’t just vanish.”

  Moose stopped his horse beside her. “Tell me exactly where they were.”

  She gestured. “From that bend in the river to the right all the way to the bluff you see on the left.”

  “All y’all wait here, Miz Dunn, while I check for sign.” Moose took off toward the river.

  Davie started to follow.

  “Son, wait and call the dogs to wait, too. Moose wants us to stay here so he can check for prints. If we ride over the area we’ll mess up tracks.”

  Davie had tears on his cheeks. “Those rotten rustlers are making sure we can’t save the ranch. I hope they all rot in hell.”

  She couldn’t scrape up the energy or compassion to correct her son. Other than bodily harm, this was the worst possible thing that could happen. Now Mr. Edmondson wouldn’t have a lever to use with his investors against Winfield.

  Blinking back the tears that welled in her eyes, she reached over to squeeze Davie’s shoulder. There was nothing she could say that would comfort him. Nothing she could think of brought her comfort.

  She couldn’t hold back the tears. All her plans were for nothing without the cattle. She looked away from the children so they wouldn’t see her crying.

  Bret reached over and pulled her into his arms. She kicked her feet free of the stirrups and let him pull her onto his lap. She pressed her head against his broad shoulder and let the tears come.

  “Charlotte, we’ll fix this. Sweetheart, don’t cry.”

  “How can anyone fix it with no cattle? We’ve worked so hard. I don’t know what else to do to save the ranch?”

  “I promise it will be all right. I know you don’t have any reason to but please trust me.”

  She raised her head to look into his beautiful blue eyes. “I do trust you. Maybe I shouldn’t but I do.”

  He took his handkerchief and dried her face. “I love having you in my arms, but you’re scaring the children.”

  “I like it here but I’d better get back on my horse.”

  He helped her transfer to her saddle. She’d felt much better on his lap but she wanted to reassure her children.

  “Children, I apologize. For a moment I was overwhelmed. I’m fine now and you mustn’t worry.”

  Davie gave a shuddering breath. “How can I not worry, Mama? You know the bank won’t wait to sell the note now.”

  Bret rode to the other side of Davie. “Don’t give up yet. Trust that there’ll be a way.”

  She watched as Moose dismounted and exa
mined the land. He walked one way and circled back. After five or ten minutes, he climbed back on his saddle and rode toward her.

  He reined in his horse facing her. “There looks to have been three riders moving a herd to the west.” He pointed southwest. “What’s that way?”

  She rubbed her sleeve across her eyes. “Nothing I’m familiar with.”

  “Here’s my suggestion. All y’all go on home and wait while I ride for the sheriff. If he follows the trail and inspects the cattle before the brands are changed, he’ll have the evidence he needs.”

  “If you think that’s best but I think I should come with you.”

  He shook his head and raised a hand to wave away her idea. “Miz Dunn, this here’s your ranch and you’re the boss and I’ll do what you say. But if you’re asking my opinion, reckon you oughta go home and take your youngun’s. They’ll need feedin’ and lookin’ after. Dogs would make too much noise with us.”

  Bret held up a hand palm out. “He’s right, Charlotte. I’ll go with Moose. I’d like to know what the sheriff says. We’ll be in touch as soon as we learn anything new.”

  Charlotte was conflicted but her children’s needs won. She reached around to open her saddlebags and pulled out the sandwiches meant for their lunch.

  “Take the food we packed with you and go get the sheriff. I’ll take the children home. Please be careful. Remember these people are killers.”

  “Another reason to keep yourself and the children out of harm’s way. To be safe, keep your gun handy.” Bret waved as he followed Moose toward town.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bret had a lot on his mind in addition to rustlers. When he took stock, Moose had been right about him being a durn fool. Recalling the attitude he’d had with his sister made him ashamed. What a heartless cad he’d been regardless of whether the curse was true or not. He had plenty of money and was thinking maybe he should do something worthwhile with it instead of frittering it away.

  Here was Charlotte working hard to keep a ranch she was most certainly going to lose. She was the most intelligent and capable woman he’d ever known. Fighting a wealthy and devious man was more than she could manage with only three children to help. Thank goodness Moose had arrived.

  He’d seen men lose everything gambling but had no sympathy for them. Never had he been around hard working people who could lose everything through no fault of their own. Until now, that is. Sure made a fellow think.

  They reached Palo Pinto and Moose called, “Sheriff’s office is in the jail.”

  Bret followed his friend to a multi-story building made of quarried stone blocks. Inside, they found the sheriff at his desk in his small office.

  Sheriff Haney stood when they entered. “Don’t tell me there’s more trouble at the Dunn place.”

  Moose took off his hat and looked at Bret.

  Bret said, “Sorry to say the rest of the herd’s been rustled. Moose found where three riders pushed them southwest from the river.”

  Scowling, the sheriff went to the foot of the stairs and looked up. “Mabel, have to go chase rustled cattle.” He strode to the cells. “Rick, need you to come with me.”

  A tall, gangly young man strode out. He looked to be in his early twenties. “Yes, sir. I’ll get our horses.” He rushed toward the livery stable.

  Scowling, the sheriff gestured to the door. “We might as well walk that way. Guess we’ll get done out of lunch.”

  “Mrs. Dunn’s practical and plans ahead. She sent sandwiches. You have a canteen?”

  “Always. Bet her sandwiches are plenty filling so I’m happy to hear she sent them. Did you take time to stop off at the ranch house?”

  Bret explained about all of them setting out.

  Moose looked angry. “I’d been working around the place since she hired me, making a few repairs. This was the first time I rode out to see the herd, only it wasn’t there.”

  By the time they’d walked to the livery, he and Moose leading their horses, the deputy was leading two mounts out to the street.

  As the four of them started off, Bret saw the bank. He’d bet Winfield would be in there later today pressing for the note on Charlotte’s ranch and letting slip the cattle were gone. With any luck, they’d find the polecat with the rustled herd.

  Bret doubted Winfield would be bold enough to let that happen. In all probability they might find whoever had stolen the cattle but Winfield would be somewhere with an alibi. Could be the rustlers would tell who hired them, though.

  They rode straight to the place where the cattle had last been seen. The sheriff and his deputy and Moose examined the tracks. Except for what he’d read in the Missouri Kid stories, Bret didn’t know anything about tracking. He stayed in the saddle and listened in hope of learning something.

  The other three men agreed on which direction the cattle had gone.

  The sheriff pointed at the ground. “You see that this set of horseshoes is unusual? I reckon Rucker in town made that set. He makes that little mark.”

  His deputy squatted for a closer look. “Yep, that’s Rucker’s mark all right. He always stamps in that R. He shoes a lot of horses, though, so that doesn’t help as much as we’d like.”

  Moose pointed at another spot. “This one has a little mark on two of the shoes. Looks like it could be a star or an X.”

  The sheriff and his deputy checked.

  Sheriff Haney pushed his hat up an inch. “I reckon that’s the X used by Xavier Diaz over at Santo. What do you think, Rick?”

  “I’d say so. Let’s look closer at the third set of prints.”

  Bret followed them. “I didn’t know there was a difference in horseshoes.”

  All three men gave him a dumbfounded glance before they went back to studying. He sure wished he’d kept silent. His grandmother had always reminded him it was better to keep quiet and let people think you were dumb than to open your mouth and prove them right.

  Moos took a step toward him. “Lots of blacksmiths take pride in their work and want the quality to be known. To make sure their work is recognized, they press a little mark at the center curve of the horseshoe.”

  Rick stood. “Guess it’d be asking too much to find all three with identifying marks.”

  Sheriff climbed into his saddle. “Let’s follow this trail and see where it leads.”

  They rode slowly to be certain they stayed with the right tracks.

  Moose looked from right to left. “A lot of cattle have been moved along here recently. Probably more than Mrs. Dunn owned.”

  Sheriff Haney pointed to the ground. “Watch for the two special sets of shoes. That’s the best way to stay with the right group of tracks.”

  Bret wondered if the same bunch had rustled more cattle. He figured they were responsible for the initial disappearance of the Dunn herd and the shootings.

  He caught up with the sheriff. “Anyone else reported missing cattle?”

  “No, just the Dunn herd. I can’t see anyone else losing stock and not reporting as much to me. Of course, could be some from another county. Could be someone hasn’t checked his tally lately, but I believe most ranchers count at least once a month and some every week.”

  Bret marveled at the rough terrain they rode. They passed deep ravines and steep trails but the cattle had been pushed along an easier—not to say easy—trail. He learned how many plants had barbs that clawed at his clothes.

  He wished he’d had a pair of the leather chaps like Moose wore. By golly, he was getting him a pair of them before he rode after cattle again. Wondering if he’d gone crazy, he reminded himself he didn’t own a ranch.

  His fascination with Charlotte Dunn caused him to forget she owed him nothing. He owed her and her children a lot. Not only had they saved his life, they’d been honest and hadn’t stolen his money.

  Unless the four of them found the cattle today and recovered them, the Dunn family would be destitute. That blasted Winfield would be laughing and dancing a fine jig. Bret figured the man alrea
dy thought of the Dunn land as his.

  Ahead, Bret thought he saw a rim that indicated a canyon. The sheriff held up his arm. They all halted. He made a shushing motion and walked his horse slowly to the side.

  Bret and his three companions dismounted and tied their horses’ reins to low hanging branches. The mounts were concealed by boulders and the grove of trees. Cautiously, Sheriff Haney made his way ahead. When the other three followed his lead, they were able to hide behind the protection of rocks and brush.

  Below, cattle were in a box canyon. A flimsy fence blocked the animals’ escape. Three men were camped near the canyon entrance. One appeared to be sleeping while the other two sat near a small campfire with rifles nearby. A large coffeepot sat on a rock at the fire’s edge.

  Moose signaled he’d get closer to the men’s camp. The ranch hand moved so silently he amazed Bret. Made him even prouder to know Moose.

  From where they watched, they were aware of Moose’s progress and that he squatted on his heels to listen. For at least fifteen minutes Moose listened to the two rustlers talk while their buddy slept. Slowly Moose crept back to where the three of them waited.

  He nodded toward the crooks and spoke barely above a whisper, “They’re waiting for new orders and expect someone anytime now. Until then, they’re supposed to wait here but they’re running out of provisions.”

  Sheriff Haney nodded. “We’ll take turns keeping an eye on them. Moose, will you take first watch? I’ll relieve you in an hour.”

  Bret passed out the sandwiches before Moose moved closer to the canyon rim. “None of them is the man who was with Winfield when he came to propose to Ch—Mrs. Dunn. The man that day was someone named Arp.”

  Sheriff Haney looked aghast but kept his voice low, “You say Winfield proposed to her? She didn’t mention it.”

  “You had to rush off because of the approaching storm. Winfield wanted her to marry him and send the two oldest children to boarding school right away. He said she could wait and send Jimmy a year from now. She was plenty mad at Winfield.”

  The sheriff practically snorted. “He’s lucky she didn’t shoot him. Everyone with a lick of sense knows she loves those kids and plans for the ranch to go to Davie.”