A Ranger's Time

by Edward Gates

  The sleeping stranger moved a little under the blanket and then groaned. Charlie laid another boot on him, a little harder this time.

  “Come on, you. Time to get moving,” Charlie said a little louder.

  Russell opened his eyes and looked around. He squinted from the bright sunshine and appeared a little confused. He looked up at Charlie and seemed to remember the night before and where he was.

  “What time is it?” Russell asked.

  “Are you starting that again?” Charlie said. “It’s late. We should have been on the trail hours ago. Let’s hurry up.”

  He watched Russell struggle to his feet and look around. Charlie continued to break camp. Since he only had one tin cup with him, Charlie finished drinking his coffee and then refilled the same cup for Russell. Charlie tossed the oil cloth to Russell. In it Russell found the dried corn biscuits and a few chunks of seasoned dried beef. Charlie told him it was his food for the day.

  Charlie pointed to the fire pit. “There’s a cup of coffee and some peaches sitting on that rock next to the fire.” He poured the rest of the coffee from the pot into the fire pit, rinsed the pot, and tied his gear up with his bedroll.

  Russell picked up the cup and took a sip and quickly spit it out. Charlie looked over at Russell with a frown.

  “What’s the matter?” Charlie asked

  “This is the worst coffee I ever tasted. There’s chunks of soggy beans floating in it.”

  “That’s all the coffee you’ll get,” Charlie said. Russell choked down the next sip and shuddered as he swallowed.

  “You make one hell of a cup of coffee,” he said barely under his breath.

  Charlie smirked. He threw a blanket across Gus and led him back to the campsite. Putting on the bridle, he picked up the saddle and threw it across the blanket and cinched up the straps. Then he loosely tied the reins to a nearby mesquite tree.

  “One more thing and then we go.” Charlie strapped on his gun belt.

  “Go? You mean leave here?”

  Charlie emptied his two canteens onto the fire to extinguish any remaining hot coals, and then went to the creek to refill them with cool, fresh water.

  “I have to be in Amarillo as soon as possible. That’s my order.” Charlie hung the two canteens on his saddle horn and picked up Gus’s water bladder. He looked Russell square in the eye. “Yes! We’re leaving here. And right now!”

  Charlie filled Gus’s water bladder and tied it to the saddle just below his rifle scabbard.

  “I can’t go. They’ll be looking for me here. I have to stay in this space! If I leave they’ll never find me.” Russell gulped down the last of the peaches.

  “You can’t stay here, boy. You’ll never survive,” Charlie said. “This sun will kill you, especially dressed like … like … well, whatever it is you’re dressed like.”

  “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed? This is historically accurate to what young people wore in the 1990s.”

  “Well, they must not be riding range a hundred years from now.” Charlie picked up his saddle bags, stopped, and gave Russell one more questioning look.

  Russell didn’t move.

  Charlie shook his head. “Well, I can’t force you to go. You do what ya’ like. You’d just slow me down anyway. It’s probably best that you stay away from Amarillo, with what’s coming.”

  After tying down his saddle bags, Charlie swung up into the saddle. Russell stared up at him, confusion in his face.

  “You coming or ain’t ya’?” Charlie said. Russell didn’t answer. “Suit yourself.” He turned Gus upstream and started walking him back toward the trail to Amarillo. After a few steps Gus stopped.

  “What now, you old plug?” Charlie tried nudging him on, but Gus stayed still. The horse turned slightly and looked back at Russell as if to tell Charlie that he shouldn’t leave the visitor here.

  “Well, you’d better come along or this old horse won’t move a step,” Charlie said. “You’re lucky, boy. He likes you.”

  “Give me one minute.” Russell took a stick and scratched AMARILLO in the dirt next to the fire pit and then walked over and joined Charlie and Gus. They left the clearing together and headed back to the southbound trail.

  Charlie rode Gus while Russell walked alongside. Charlie stopped and looked up at the sun. It was already getting hot. He took off his jacket and tossed it to Russell.

  “Are you crazy?” Russell said. “I’ll burn up in that thing.”

  “You’ll burn up without it,” Charlie said. “If you don’t cover up that lily-white skin of yours that sun will cook you. Now take it and put it on.”

  Reluctantly, Russell slipped on the oversized jacket and turned the collar up to protect his neck from the sun.

  “You ever been on a horse?”

  “No. There aren’t a lot of horses left where I come from. People don’t ride horses anymore. They travel around in PTU’s.” Russell looked at Charlie. Charlie didn’t change his expression. “PTU’s are personal transportation units. Some still have old cars, but most are being phased ...” Russell again looked up at Charlie and shook his head. “Never mind.”

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Charlie finally said. “No horses. You hear that, Gus? You’re going to retire.” Charlie had a pretty good idea what Russell was talking about, but he kept quiet and just let Russell talk. It had been thirty years since he heard a lot of those terms. Charlie thought that maybe this so-called time-traveler didn’t hear his mumblings last night. At least he was hoping so.

  Charlie looked down at the boy. “Well, you sure can’t walk to Amarillo in those ugly old shoes you got on. Charlie pulled his foot out of the stirrup and offered it to Russell. Here, step on this stirrup and swing yourself up behind me. Gus can carry both of us for a while.”

  Russell hoisted himself up on Gus and sat on the edge of the blanket behind the saddle. With each movement of the horse, Russell would squirm and let out a grunt.

  “Something wrong?” Charlie asked over his shoulder.

  “These pants are scratching my legs.”

  “Well, it’s better than walking - at least for now.” Charlie smiled.

  After riding for a little while Russell asked “How far do we have to go?”

  Charlie pointed to a far off crest that rose off the prairie floor. “You see that ridge along the horizon up ahead?”

  “Yeah, I see it. Is that where we have to go?”

  “Well, there’s another ridge just like it and twice as far on the other side of that ridge. We have to go over that second ridge and then down through a small valley after that,” Charlie explained.

  Russell let out an audible sigh. Charlie lowered his eyes and shook his head. What did I get myself into? This was going to be a very trying day for both of them.

  “There’s a good sized creek that runs along the base of that second ridge,” Charlie said, “with the coolest and freshest water in these parts. We’ll rest up there.”

  After riding at a quick lope for a while, Charlie and Russell both dismounted and walked, giving Gus a much needed rest from the burden of two riders. Russell had been talking about bending space, worm holes, and time theorems. He kept rattling on and on about the dimensional matrix that made time travel possible. In fact, he talked most of the morning away. Charlie just let this stranger ramble on to help pass the time.

  By midday they had crossed over the first ridge. Sweat poured off Russell. His face was bright red and he was beginning to stumble. During the past few hours they had taken turns riding single on Gus, then letting him walk free, and then doubling up on him.

  Charlie kept an eye on Russell. This was dangerous country for a seasoned outdoorsman. It was almost always fatal for the novice. Charlie poured some water onto his neckerchief and wrapped it around Russell’s head to cool and shade him.

  They were at the south base of the first ridge looking over the dried bitter grasses and clusters of sagebrush that covered most of the flat terrain. There was nothing else
. There was no movement except for an occasional hot dry breeze.

  Charlie handed Russell one of the two canteens. The young stranger took a long swallow and then handed it back. Charlie took a small sip, put the wooden plug back in, and hung it from the saddle horn.

  “That’s all you’re going to drink?” Russell asked.

  “For now. Not sure if any of the creeks we’ll pass will be running or not,” Charlie said. “There was a pretty good snowfall this past winter so we should have a good water supply on the way. But, just in case, I’ll drink as little as possible.”

  Up to this point, Charlie had been pouring water from Gus’s water bag into his hat and letting the gray drink a bit from the hat. It was just enough to fend off dehydration and cool him down a little.

  They started to walk across the flat land between the two ridges. The heat rose from the prairie floor, distorting the grass and brush and giving the impression of it being under water. The heat mirages were so thick they reflected the color of the sky and it looked as if there was a giant blue sea just out of reach.

  Charlie had been walking alongside Gus for quite a while before he finally stopped and rested his feet. The sun had moved a bit off to Charlie’s right.

  “Must be around two,” he mused. “Time to make tracks.”

  Russell was almost unconscious from the heat. He was barely able to hang onto the saddle horn to keep from falling off.

  “I hate to do this to you, Gus, but you have got to get us to that ridge. Poor Russell here don’t look so good.”

  “I’ll … be ... fine,” Russell said between short breaths.

  Charlie climbed onto Gus behind the saddle. He put his arms around Russell’s ribs to grab the reins and tapped the horse with his heels. “Heeya!” he yelled, and Gus took off at a run.

  After a while, Charlie could feel Gus laboring under the weight of the two riders and the intense heat. But he needed him to make up some time.

  When they were halfway to the second ridge, he pulled up on Gus’s reins and slid down off the side. Gus was winded He blew hard and white foam formed around his mouth. Charlie pulled Russell off and laid him down on the dirt with his head on the shady side of a sagebrush. It was enough shade to keep the sun from directly hitting his face. He pulled the two canteens and took a long swallow from the first canteen. He soaked Russell’s neckerchief and then poured some down his throat. Russell choked a bit and then took another swallow.

  “You doing okay?” Charlie asked.

  “I’ll make it,” Russell said. “Thanks for the water.”

  Charlie stood and left one canteen with Russell. He pulled the near-empty water bladder off his saddle. He poured the remaining water into his hat for Gus who downed it in seconds.

  “That’s all you get for now,” Charlie said softly. “Can’t risk you gettin’ sick on us.” He patted the horse’s nose.

  They sat on the floor of the ancient lakebed for a few minutes to give themselves a rest and to give Gus a chance to catch his breath. Gus walked around a bit and Charlie poured a little more water from the second canteen into his hat and Gus again slurped it up. Then Charlie announced that it was time to go. Russell said he felt pretty good and would try walking for a while so the three headed off toward the second ridge and the promise of a drink of cool creek water. Charlie and Russell again swapped out riding Gus and walking. However, after just a short while, Russell became affected by the heat and ended up riding most of the way.

  By the time they reached the base of the second ridge, Russell was barely conscious and was slumped forward in the saddle. Charlie had walked most of the way on his own He was just about out of energy, out of wind, and dead on his feet.

  Gus smelled the cool water and began to pick up the pace. A smile formed on the cracked lips of Charlie. A tear formed in his eye from joy and relief. He knew he was as good as home now and kept up with Gus’s hurried pace.

  “This is it, Gus,” Charlie shouted as he hurried to the creek full of clear cool water.

  He pulled the empty water bag off the side of the saddle and the two empty canteens and knelt down by the creek.

  He shoved his head under the water and let the soothing coolness of the water spread throughout his body. He drank a few handfuls of water, filled each canteen and then dunked the water bag into the water until it was full. Gus walked over to the creek and started to drink. Charlie pulled him away and poured some water from his water bag into his hat and let him sip some water from it. He poured some water over Gus’s neck and head to help cool him down. Charlie pulled Russell off the horse and set him along the southeast side of the rocks in the shade. He dipped the neckerchief that Russell was wearing into the creek and laid it across the boy’s head. Charlie handed him a full canteen of cool water.

  “Here you go, boy. You can drink all you want, there’s plenty more. Just drink it slow with small sips.”

  Russell took a couple of big drinks and choked.

  “Easy, boy,” Charlie cautioned, “Your tongue swells up in the heat and makes it hard to swallow. Sip it easy or you’ll get sick.”

  Charlie led Gus into the creek and continued to cool him by letting him sip a little water and then dumping a hatful of water over his body. When the horse seemed to be cooled enough, Charlie sat down next to Russell and drank from the other canteen. The two sat in silence just taking in the cool water and resting in the shade.

  “I’ve got a cabin just this side of the town,” Charlie said. “It’s an old buffalo hunter’s cabin. It ain’t much but it keeps me dry and comfortable.”

  “How ... how ... far is your place?” Russell asked between breaths and swallows.

  “Not far, now. Maybe another hour or so.”

  Russell nodded and took another sip from the canteen.

  “Just over this ridge the prairie turns into a valley of sweet range grass. It’s beautiful,” Charlie smiled at the thought of the valley he just described. He never gets tired of seeing the grass in the valley swaying in the breeze.

  “Sounds nice,” Russell said.

  “Yeah. The stream that flows here feeds that valley. Just before we get into Amarillo there’s a little trail that cuts off to the left and heads up into LIT territory. That’s where my place is.”

  “LIT territory?” Russell asked.

  “It’s a big ranch,” Charlie explained. “A few years back, a bunch of smaller outfits banned together and formed these organizations. They took over all the land. There’s the LIT ranch to the west, which we just rode through. Then there’s the LX ranch, which is a little east of here and just north of Amarillo. The Frying Pan ranch is a bit further east. There’s a couple of others.”

  “And your cabin is on the LIT Ranch?” Russell asked.

  “Well, it’s not really my cabin. Years ago, all this area used to be overrun with buffalo. Thousands of them. Hunters would come here from all over, and when they killed their fill, they’d move on. Some of them built some small cabins to stay in during the hunt.”

  “How’d you get the cabin?”

  “The Rangers got sent here a while back to stop mavericks and cattle rustlers. We got to where we were real friendly with the ranchers. I got to know the ranch manager pretty well so he told me I was welcome to use the old buffalo cabin. I’ve been there ever since.”

  The two sat watching the sun get lower in the sky.

  Finally Russell broke the silence. “You mentioned some trouble last night and again this morning. What kind of trouble are you talking about?”

  “It don’t concern you,” Charlie said gruffly.

  Russell let his question drop. Gus nudged Charlie in the back. It was time to go.

  “Damn horse must be in a hurry.” Charlie stood and stretched. The sun was low enough to head toward the cabin without Russell drawing too much attention. The three climbed the ridge.

  At the top of the ridge Charlie and Russell both climbed on Gus. The horse walked with ease now, rejuvenated from the water, the rest, and re
lief from the sun’s heat.

  Charlie was thinking about his cabin and the comforts of home. He was thinking about Amarillo. He wasn’t worried about his surroundings anymore, and he hadn’t thought about Abe Walker or Mac Sherman all day.

  As they started their easy descent from the top of the ridge the valley rich with range grass came into view. The grass swayed in the breeze like ripples on a lake.

  “This is beautiful. Just like you said.” Russell looked over the valley and all around. Then he chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” Charlie asked.

  Russell pointed to the dust cloud on the horizon in the southwest. “That’s what our skies look like all the time where I come from.”

  Charlie looked off to where Russell gazed and his thoughts of home evaporated. The calm, contented demeanor quickly changed to concern. “Damn!”

  “Is that a dust storm or something?” Russell asked.

  Charlie ignored the question.

  “Abe Walker. Son-of-a-bitch! He got here quicker than I expected. This ain’t gonna be good,” Charlie said out loud, not really meaning it for anyone’s ears.

  “Who’s Abe Walker? And what does he have to do with that cloud?” Russell asked.

  “That’s not a cloud, boy. Its cattle, thousands of them kicking up dust. And they all belong to Abe Walker. You wanted to know what trouble is? That’s it. There’s always trouble when Abe and his crew get near a town.”

  “You know this fellow?” Russell’s brow creased.

  “Yeah,” Charlie said solemnly, “We’ve met.” He spurred his horse forward.

  Gus occasionally tried to step off the trail into the grass to eat a bit. Charlie coaxed him back onto the trail and toward his cabin. After seeing Abe and his cattle drive approaching, getting back seemed more urgent.

  By the time they reached the turnoff to Charlie’s cabin the sun was set and everything was awash in a blue-gray hue. Just light enough to find their way up into the rocks and trees. They were finally home. What a trip. Four long hard days on the road and a new visitor who gave Charlie a new challenge. With Abe Walker and his crew only a day or so out, and with his new ‘guest’, Amarillo will be an interesting place tomorrow.