Canyon War

by Sarah Elisabeth Sawyer

  On her short trip to the outhouse, Rebekah took in the dusty but fresh air of the open country. Milkweed grew wild in the yard between the house and large barn and corral. Chickens clucked, pecking and scratching a meal from the dry earth and vegetation. Wide open country surrounded the place, not a tree in sight. Only the road leading up to the house.

  Three ranch hands were working colts in the corral and paused to watch her, then went on with their business. No one seemed happy at the Baxter Ranch.

  They did have fine looking horses. Any one of them could easily carry her back to Amarillo if she felt threatened enough to risk it. Clem might start drinking again anytime, and her train wasn’t important enough to test his temper today.

  Still, in this situation, she felt it was wise to assert as much control as she could, at least with Van, the youngest Baxter. She couldn't push it too much, because he was definitely feeling his power and control with the second oldest son at odds with the oldest. Family dynamics could be so complicated.

  Rebekah was determined to understand them as much as possible in order to get out of there unscathed. Her journey to New Mexico Territory would be delayed yet a few more days and Dr. McKinnon, her sponsor, would be worried when she didn't arrive and received no response to his telegrams that he would send to Amarillo tomorrow.

  Returning to the room, she found Kurt awake and vomiting. Not only was he injured, but his foolish brothers were to thank for his hangover.

  She cleaned the mess and propped Kurt up enough to help him drink the coffee Woodrow made before the noon meal. Kurt, eyes glassy and red but clearing, looked up at Rebekah like he wanted to say something, wanted to ask her a question, but he held it in and sipped the coffee. She changed the bandages on his cuts and helped him find a position to lay in that would keep him straight as he rested.

  The afternoon ticked away slowly. Rebekah settled in with a book of poetry she had in her bag. She paused and pulled out her pocket watch to see it was 3:15p.m.

  If the train was on time, it would be leaving the depot at Amarillo about now. The ticket in her reticule back at the Garland home was worthless.

  Chapter Five

  Jimmy spent most of the day working in the barn. He was supposed to be riding fence, but Clem Baxter wanted the ranch hands close. He didn't say why, but Jimmy heard gossip among the hands that the Baxter brothers had blown up a chunk of rock in the Palo Duro Canyon in their war with the Lowells.

  Jimmy wasn't surprised they’d caused a rockslide, but he wasn't happy about it either. If it hadn't been for Doc Beck, he would draw his pay and ride out. But as it was, he was grateful for the order to stay close, and had swapped duties of mending corrals in the pasture on the backside of the house to working in the barn, oiling saddles. That kept him closer to the house in case the lady doctor needed him.

  He was the only one on the ranch that would stick up for Miss Rebekah. Woodrow was too intimidated by his brother. That could change someday if Clem pushed hard enough. Jimmy had seen it in Woodrow’s eyes.

  Not that Jimmy had much experience reading people at his sixteen years of age. But he had enough to know when a showdown was coming.

  He hefted the saddle he had been working on and carried it into the tack room located inside the barn, settling it on a saddle rack. When the jingle of the stirrups stopped, he heard other sounds coming into the barn.

  Be still.

  Jimmy had heard that quiet voice in his spirit before and things always turned out better when he listened. He held his breath and heard someone coming into the barn.

  "Take the palomino.” It was Clem. “She's got stout legs for the canyon. Don't get too close to the Lowell place. You take a look, see what they're up to and get right back here. I want you watching the woman most of the time. Can’t trust Woodrow to do it right.”

  “What about that doc anyway?” Van’s voice. "Folks from town will be wondering where she is. Won’t that bring the law?”

  There was a long pause before Clem spoke again. "The law is the reason I'm keeping her. The Lowells went straight to the sheriff in Canyon City after last night. One of their men got killed in the slide. The sheriff’ll be out here and the best thing we can have is a little leverage. That's why I'm keeping her around."

  "Even after Kurt gets better?"

  “Kurt don't need her to get better. He's a Baxter."

  Their voices were getting louder. They were coming into the tack room.

  Jimmy darted into a back corner where two saddle racks easily concealed his scrawny frame. He squatted behind them just as Clem and Van entered. There was an edge in Clem’s voice that Jimmy hadn’t heard before. If he didn’t know better, he’d wonder if Clem was scared. Of what?

  Their father had had such a fearless, iron fist on them. He even whacked Jimmy for saying maybe the Baxters should leave the Lowells in peace, said he’d shoot Jimmy if he ever questioned him again. That was when Jimmy nearly left, but felt the good Lord wanted him to stay.

  Clem was like his father, but without as many years experience at being mean without losing control of his boys.

  Van lifted one of the newly oiled saddles off the rack and turned to his brother. "I'm with you all the way, Clem. You know that."

  "I wouldn't have it any other way."

  Coming from a different man, that might sound like a compliment. Coming from Clem Baxter, it was a threat, like his father always did. Jimmy recognized Clem’s temper getting shorter and shorter, and there was no saying what he might do if he got cornered.

  Chapter Six

  Toward suppertime, Rebekah wasn't sure whether she should ask the brothers to bring her a cot to sleep in the room with Kurt or settle into the chair again. She was getting tired of that chair but lying on a bed felt too vulnerable. She wanted to be ready to run. Being dressed in men's clothes would help.

  But she was going stir crazy in the bedroom. She tended Kurt, which wasn’t much other than helping him eat and stay comfortable. He didn’t respond to her attempts to engage him in conversation, so she settled for reading aloud in the awkward silence. But she’d finished the book before evening and felt exhausted. Her lack of sleep and comfort wasn't helping her temperament.

  When Woodrow changed out guard duties with Van, she snapped at the youngest Baxter boy. “If you expect me to stay caged on this ranch another minute, I need something sensible to read.”

  Woodrow glanced at her on his way out but kept moving as he said, “Supper’ll be ready soon."

  Rebekah crossed her arms and stared at Van, the one who had yanked her from the Garland home and dragged her out to this ranch on the edge of the Palo Duro Canyon.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what? You think we got time for reading on this ranch?”

  “You would do well to engage in civilized activities rather than whatever caused your brother’s injury.”

  Van’s nostrils flailed. She’d struck a nerve, one she might regret.

  Kurt shifted on the bed, the whites of his eyes showing his fear. He was fully sober and awake now.

  “It wasn’t Van’s fault, honest, ma’am. He couldn’t help that I slipped off the ledge when I tried to pull him up. I’m plain clumsy, ma’am. Clumsy and no good to Clem or anyone.”

  Rebekah kept her gaze locked on Van. “I see. Was Clem the cause of all of this, or was it something that sprang from your imagination, Van? Reading would serve you well. Then maybe you could concoct a scheme that didn’t injure your brothers.”

  Van matched her stare. "You need to learn how to talk to your betters.”

  He advanced toward her, eyes blazing. She’d pushed him too hard. Her mind went to her medical bag.

  “You’re not leaving this ranch, lady.”

  She lunged for her bag on the table by the bed, but Van grabbed her by the arm and jerked her around. He shoved her into the wall, pressing one arm across her throat and cutting off her air.

  “Not ever!”

  "Van!" Kurt struggled to sit up.


  The black dots clouding her vision made Rebekah raise her knee quick and land it right where she needed to. Van yelled and loosened enough for her to shove him away. She caught her breath and reached for her bag, but his fingers sank into her hair and yanked her head back.

  "You're going to regret that, lady.”

  “Let her go!” It was Jimmy.

  Van shoved Rebekah to the floor. She rolled and looked up in time to see Jimmy plow into Van headfirst, catching Van in the gut.

  They crashed into the red velvet wing back chair, breaking the back legs. Van rolled clear and whipped out his pistol. He swung it at Jimmy's head, but Jimmy dodged it and bit down on Van’s wrist. Van howled.

  A shout came from the doorway as Woodrow rushed in. “What’s going on—”

  The gun went off. The bullet struck Woodrow.

  Chapter Seven

  The echo of gun fire was the only sound in the room. When it died, no one moved. Rebekah stayed frozen near the wall, not wanting to move for fear of Van jerking the trigger again.

  Then Van shoved away from Jimmy and approached his brother sprawled on the floor. Van still held his six gun, his hand shaking.

  Jimmy got to his feet and helped Rebekah up, looking her over for injuries. She stepped around him with a pat on his arm to let him know she was okay, and started toward Woodrow. But she halted at the sight of Clem in the door.

  She met his cold gaze then went forward to kneel beside Woodrow Baxter. He was clenching his bleeding right shoulder.

  A quick examination showed the bullet had passed through. She spoke quietly to him.

  "I'll need to clean and stitch this.”

  Woodrow groaned and pushed himself to a sitting position and struggled to his feet. Rebekah helped him since neither of his brothers moved. Woodrow hadn’t said a word to her when he was guarding her earlier. She knew he was too much under Clem’s control to help her escape.

  Now there was a fire in his eyes. Once on his feet, Woodrow staggered a step, then glared at Clem.

  “This what you want for our family? Blasting us all to pieces, same as Pa?”

  Van shoved his revolver back in his holster. “Don't be saying anything against Pa or Clem neither.”

  The swagger was gone from his voice, replaced by an uncertain gruffness. Woodrow rounded on him, hand still clutched over his bleeding shoulder.

  "That all you got to say for yourself after shooting your brother?"

  Rebekah didn't know what would happen if the sharp words continued, so she took over the situation. She grabbed Woodrow by the arm and guided him toward the door.

  "Let's get you fixed up. Jimmy, bring my bag."

  She halted at the doorway because Clem still filled it, not moving as he watched them with sullen eyes. His gaze flicked to the blood soaking his brother’s gray shirt.

  He finally stepped aside. Woodrow stumbled through, Rebekah's firm grip on his arm keeping him from falling to the floor. They went to the room one door down, Jimmy close behind with her medical bag.

  Good Jimmy. That's a good boy.

  ***

  The low rumble in the distance warned Rebekah of the approaching thunderstorm. She wasn't sure how common spring tornadoes were in this part of Texas, if they were as bad as Indian Territory which she had left before coming to Amarillo on her way to Zapata, New Mexico Territory. But it didn't matter. Dodging tornadoes was less risk than remaining another night in this house under the thumb of Clem Baxter.

  After patching Woodrow’s flesh wound and settling him in the lower bunk in the small bedroom—Woodrow muttering something about how Kurt should be in the top bunk—Rebekah set about quietly repacking her bag.

  She had retained Jimmy on the excuse of needing his assistance when Clem ordered him out of the house. It was the last battle she needed to win with Clem Baxter. She knew which direction Canyon City was, but navigating her way there in the dark alone was not appealing. Besides, Jimmy had risked his life to help her and she wouldn't leave him behind in this volatile situation.

  “Cork and hand me that bottle please.” Rebekah nodded at the brown bottle by the bedside as she settled her instruments back in the bag, everything arranged neatly. Keeping items organized in her bag helped keep her mind organized and calm as she prepared to take a risk.

  Jimmy complied. When he was close, she whispered, "I'm leaving tonight. Do you want to go with me?"

  Jimmy jerked his head up as though surprised at her words or perhaps the conspiratorial tone of her voice. He didn't seem surprised that she trusted him, nor should he. He had proven himself that day.

  Jimmy glanced over at Woodrow, who had drifted off to sleep with a little help from Rebekah. It would be better if he was in a deep sleep and not incur Clem’s wrath when she disappeared. And the rest would help him recover from the wound quicker. He was the only one who had a chance of actually running this ranch without running it off the rails.

  Dipping his head and speaking in the same low tone, Jimmy's boyish voice squeaked when he said, "I'll help you escape, Miss Rebekah. I know the way."

  Those were the words Rebekah had wanted to hear from the moment she realized Clem Baxter was a force to be reckoned with. It was why she had retained Jimmy the first night to help with Kurt and had watched him carefully. They could help each other now.

  Rebekah strapped her bag closed with a nonchalant glance over her shoulder, out the open door. Clem and Van were seated in the front room, staring at the blazing fireplace that was making the whole house too hot. They both held shot glasses of whiskey.

  She finished closing her bag and spoke to Jimmy. “Please go to the barn and have a couple of horses saddled for us at 10p.m. I have a plan for getting me out of the house. I need you to have a plan to get us off this ranch.”

  "You can count on me, Doc.”

  “I am counting on you, just Jimmy."

  ***

  It wasn't hard to mix a sleeping powder into Van’s coffee when he took up guard duty between the two doors of where Kurt and Woodrow rested. Clem had retired in his own bedroom, telling Van he would spell him after a while. Rebekah had gotten her a coffee and one for Van as a sort of peace offering. He didn't thank her, but at least he wasn't shoving her into the wall and choking her.

  She entered the bedroom with Kurt. To her dismay, he was wide awake and wanting to talk.

  Rebekah settled herself in the chair Van had brought from the sitting room. There was satisfaction in that dreadful wing back chair getting broken.

  Kurt rolled his face toward her. “Ma’am, we weren't always this bad. Wasn't till Ma died. This was her and Pa's room. Now since Pa died, we don't use it for nothing. It hurts being in here."

  Rebekah nodded, fingering her watch in her trouser pocket. She had timed things for Van to doze off shortly. She and Jimmy needed as much of a head start on Clem as they could get.

  But Kurt kept talking.

  "I didn't want to do it, didn't want to blow up the canyon and kill the Lowell’s sheep. I don't think Woodrow did either, but Clem’s been acting so much like Pa that we all do whatever he says. Is that wrong, ma'am? To stick with your flesh and blood like that?"

  Rebekah cocked her head. "Family is important. So is your own integrity. Ultimately, that's what you base your life decisions on. I was fortunate to grow up in a fine family with a father who taught me to stand up for myself but to seek justice and mercy whenever I could."

  Kurt swallowed. "He sounds like a good man."

  "He was."

  Kurt blinked, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Rebekah wished she could take him with her. But she learned long ago she couldn't adopt every stray she came across. Only some. Getting out of there and sending the law back to the Baxter Ranch was the best thing she could do for this young man.

  Rebekah leaned forward and squeezed Kurt’s wrist. “Rest now. By tomorrow, you should be able to get out of bed and move around a little. But no riding for at least two weeks. Do you understand?"

  She wi
shed she could be sure he would follow her directions, but that was a problem she faced with all of her patients. Kurt nodded and there was a sincerity in his eyes that told her he would at least try. If Clem didn’t get in the way.

  Rebekah leaned back in the chair and he took that as the end of the conversation and closed his eyes. But he didn't go to sleep right away and Rebekah stayed tense. She stared out the window of the bedroom, a clear view of the barn. No lantern light showed there. The ranch hands had retired for the night. What of Jimmy? Could he saddle horses in the dark? Her neck ached from the strain of watching.

  After several minutes, she eased to her feet and glanced through the open doorway. Van was nodding off, but he still held the coffee cup. If he dropped it when he fell asleep, the racket would bring Clem out and railing at him. Rebekah needed to time it right to slip out, get the cup, and hope Van didn’t fall out of the chair. It was a risk she would have to take. Fortunately, the back door of the house was on the opposite side of Clem’s bedroom and the thunder kept rumbling closer.

  She didn't know the sound could be heard for so long before the storm actually arrived.

  Chapter Eight

  Rebekah managed to catch the cup when it slipped from Van’s hand. She quietly set it on the floor. The storm finally arrived, pouring sheets on the tin roof of the ranch house. It was deafening and wouldn't be at all pleasant to ride in, but the noise would help cover her exit, not to mention the tracks.

  She quietly pulled on the large brown coat from the closet and picked her medical bag from the floor beside Kurt. With one last sorrowful look at the young man, she headed for the back door.

  She turned the knob and the door flew toward her face. She braced her palm against it, wincing at the storm’s sounds rushing in. She glanced back to see Van shift in his chair, but he was still in a deep sleep. Was Clem?

  She slipped around the door and pulled it closed firmly against the wind. The wind! It pressed her against the outside wall of the house and the rain stung her eyes. She blinked several times to clear her vision. The yard was so dark and the rain so thick it took her several moments to get a clear line on the barn.