Itchy Mitch and the Taming of Broken Jaw Junction

by Duane L. Ostler

  Chapter 8 - How Some Garlic Captured the Cattle Rustlers

 

  Broken Jaw Junction was once again a peaceful place. With the range war between the farmers and ranchers solved and all of the ruffians run out of town, things were absolutely dull. Cousin Elias showed up in town again acting rather sheepish, and went back to his unsuccessful efforts at panning for gold. Mitch's garden was growing like a weed, except of course he allowed no weeds in it. Things were so peaceful that the saloon keeper was ready to go out of his mind, and the Ladies Aid were ready to help him do it by holding a charity bazaar in front of his saloon.

  But the west was still wild and it wasn't long before there was new trouble brewing that threatened the peaceful little town.

  One morning the people in Broken Jaw Junction woke up to find the town swarming with Bomont's ranch hands. Each one of them wore a grim face and packed a gun at his side, and several of them bought extra ammunition. At first people thought there must be new trouble between Bomont and the farmers, but when Bomont showed up at the saloon he set the record straight.

  "It’s rustlers," he said grimly. "They took 100 head of my cattle from the box canyon on the east range, over where I just let the cows feed without having to pay my hands to watch 'em. So now I'm going after 'em." Then he added with a cruel laugh, "Them rustlers are gonna wish they'd never been born!"

  In a short time, Bomont and his ranch hands left town in a cloud of dust and barking dogs. Throughout that long, hot day, everyone waited anxiously for their return, gleefully wanting to find out what they had done to the rustlers once they caught them.

  As for Mitch, no one even bothered to ask for his help or his opinion. In fact, Cousin Elias chortled happily that this was one fight they didn't have to get into.

  "Well," Mitch said dryly, "looks like that’s true, at least for now. If the rustlers come into town, I'll have to take them in. But I don’t have authority to enforce the law outside town limits now that the range war is over."

  "Well, there’s not much chance the rustlers are going to come into town," laughed Cousin Elias. Then he looked at Mitch suspiciously. "You said we wouldn't get involved 'for now.' You're not thinking of getting into this fight, are you? That would be just plum crazy!"

  Mitch smiled. "No need to worry," he said as he picked up his watering can and headed for the door. "No one even asked for our help, and it looks like Bomont and his ranch hands will take care of the problem, although I don’t think I want to know how. Anyway, it's time to water my cucumbers. They've been looking a little under the weather." And then he went out to his garden, leaving Cousin Elias still wondering if he should feel relieved or worried about what Mitch had said.

  Bomont and his riders came straggling into town that evening looking like they'd been dragged backwards through a cat fight. None of them were very talkative, since no cowboy likes to admit he’s been outfoxed. All they would say is that they had 'chased the robbers far and long,' that they 'nearly had the weasels cornered,' but in the end 'the blasted thieves barely got away.' What this really meant was that they never even got close to the rustlers, and that they rode around in circles in the hot Nevada sun all day. But of course, no one in town who valued his life was going to say that to their face.

  A quiet week went by in which the only thing that changed were the ranch hands' stories of how much closer they had come to catching the rustlers than what they had said before. Meanwhile, every time Bomont came to town he was so tight-lipped and fuming mad over having lost 100 cows that no one dared to even talk to him.

  And then it happened. Nine days after the first rustling, the town woke up again to find a swarm of Bomont ranch hands lining the streets, carrying so many guns it looked like they were going to a war. They were all pretty glum and quiet too, and it took awhile to find out from them that another 50 head of cattle had been rustled the previous night--from the stockade next to Bomont's ranch house, right under his nose! Bomont was so furious his face remained purple all morning and no one even dared look at him for fear of being withered in his tracks.

  But brave and determined as the ranch hands looked when they raced out of town in a cloud of dust and screeching cats that morning, they didn't have any better luck in their hunt for the rustlers. This time when they limped into town at dusk they were so glum and grumpy, they didn't even bother pretending that they had come close to catching the rustlers. They just didn't say anything at all.

  Early the next morning there was a quiet knock on Sheriff Mitch's door. Mitch was already up (since his pea plants preferred to be watered early) and when he opened the door was surprised to see rancher Bomont standing in front of him, looking madder than an unmilked cow.

  "Can I come in?" Bomont asked gruffly. Without waiting for an answer he shoved his way into the office and dropped into a chair. Before Mitch could utter a word, Bomont said, "Sheriff, I need your help." Although his voice was harsh, he sounded tired and defeated. "Yesterday, my boys and I followed the rustlers' trail 'till we hit Hard Rock Canyon where it disappeared. As you know, it's solid rock for two miles up that canyon and it’s impossible to find any tracks in there. We checked every opening out of the canyon right up to its end, but didn't find a thing. Looks like they've found some kind of secret passage out of there, but we searched high and low and we couldn't find it. You know how those canyons are out there—you can be looking right at a passage or a tunnel and not even see it, because those walls curve around so much and they all look the same."

  "I know," agreed Mitch. "Sounds like maybe you need a professional tracker."

  "True enough," admitted Bomont. "But that's not my main worry." He paused, a black look on his face. Then with an effort, he said, "I’m loyal to my men. Always have been. Can’t think of any of them that I wouldn’t trust with my life. But now I’m starting to wonder…” He paused, then said quietly, “It looks like this was an inside job, by one of my own boys."

  Mitch whistled softly. Bomont continued. "I figure one of my own hands must be feeding information to an outside gang. I don't know how else they could have known right when to take those 50 head of cattle from the stockade next to the ranch house without anyone being around to see. Normally somebody’s always there, but that night we all got called out to the south range to help with a stampede."

  "So the rustlers probably started the stampede to get everyone away from the ranch," said Mitch.

  "Probably,” agreed Bomont. “But that still aint all. As you know, all my cows are branded with the "Bar B" brand. (This was in the days before Barbie dolls were invented, so Bomont was not embarrassed to have the 'Bar B' brand) "That's a B with a bar above it. I didn't figure they could re-brand my cows in a way that you wouldn't know it's really a Bar B cow."

  "But last week in Reno, I saw a cow I swear was one of mine--a mangy thing with one ear half chewed off by a coyote when it was just a calf. The brand on that cow was fresh, and this is what it looked like."

  Bomont pulled a worn paper from his pocket and unfolded it on Mitch's desk. It had the following diagram:

  "Hmmm ... " murmured Mitch. "So they added a circle above the B by using the bar, then added eyes, ears and a tail to make some kind of critter."

  "The 'fat cat' brand," Bomont replied. "At least, that's what the guy in Reno said who claimed to be the cow’s owner. He said it was from his new ranch in California. When I said it looked like my cow re-branded, he just laughed and said it couldn't have been. That guy had a whole herd of cows with brand new 'fat cat' brands—cows that looked just like mine.”

  “I made him come along with me to talk with the sheriff about it, but I couldn't get the sheriff in Reno to believe it was my cow. That guy was just laughin' at me the whole time, and I couldn't do a thing about it." The piece of wood Bomont had been fiddling with in his hands snapped in two, and Bomont's face was flushed.

  "I see," said Mitch. "So it looks like they're a big ou
tfit and they're using one of your hands to find out what cows are unguarded. Then they sneak in and take them, and lead them up Hard Rock Canyon where you can’t track them, then escape out a secret pass. A pretty slick operation."

  "Yep," replied Bomont glumly. "And I need you to help me nab 'em, ‘cause I know they'll strike again."

  "I'd be glad to," Mitch said with a smile. "But as you know, I only have jurisdiction here in town, so I don't know how much I can do for you."

  "Well," said Bomont with a slightly embarrassed cough, "I hoped you could get jurisdiction over the whole territory from the federal marshals like you did when you settled that little difficulty I had with the farmers."

  "I could try," said Mitch.

  "You gotta do more'n try, boy!" rumbled Bomont, rising from his chair with a menacing look in his eye. “Them’s my cows their stealing! If they take many more, I’ll go broke! You’ve gotta help me!” Then he remembered who he was talking to and sat down again with an apologetic grunt.

  “Sorry," he mumbled gruffly. “These past few weeks have been pretty rough.” Then in a pleading voice he said, "please help me. If those rustlers aren't stopped, they'll ruin me! I don't know what you can do, but the saloon keeper says you always find a way to win in the end, although he doesn’t seem to like you for some reason."

  Mitch smiled. "I'll send a telegram to the federal marshals right away,” he said. “And then I'll see if we can figure out a way to catch those rustlers."

  “Thanks!,” said Bomont, rising to leave. Before he could go far, Mitch quickly grabbed a bowl from on top of his filing cabinet and held it out to Bomont. It was full of freshly cut carrot sticks and celery.

  "Carrot stick?" he asked with a flourish.

  Bomont looked dumfounded at the container as if it contained one of the many cow pies that were spread all over his ranch. Then with a rough effort at being polite he cleared his throat and mumbled, "uh ... no thanks. Not before dinner—I mean breakfast."

  "There’s celery sticks in there, if you'd rather," said Mitch, trying again. "Or some baby onions at the bottom of the bowl. They're great for the liver, you know."

  "The liver," repeated Bomont stupidly. Then pulling himself together, he stammered, "uh ... no. No thanks. Not on an empty stomach. I'd best be gettin' back to the ranch." Then he nearly ran from Mitch's office.

  Within the hour Mitch received a telegram from the federal marshals approving his request for authority to pursue the rustlers anywhere in the territory. The telegram said the marshals would normally have offered to help, but they had lost too many of their good men in cases like this, from being trampled by stampedes of stolen cows.

  Soon everyone in town knew Mitch was going after the rustlers, and people were already laying odds about how he would either be outwitted like Bomont, or end up in Boot Hill like all the former sheriffs. In the midst of it all (as one would expect) Cousin Elias started packing.

  "If you think," he said to Mitch hotly, "that I'm going to go out and get shot by some rustler or trampled by some dumb cow, you've got another thing coming!"

  "Now, Elias," Mitch said reasonably, "there's no need to get excited--"

  "No need to get excited!" Elias spluttered while stuffing his dirty shirts in his saddlebag. "Do you know how many rustlers there are?"

  "Well ... no ... " replied Mitch.

  "Isn't it likely there's at least a dozen?!" Elias demanded.

  "I suppose," said Mitch.

  "And how many cows do you think they'll have with them?" he yelled, waiving around one of his socks that hadn't been washed for so long it was stiff as a board. "Don't you think they'll have anywhere from 50 to 200?"

  "I suppose," said Mitch again calmly.

  "And you’re thinking that just you and me will go out and face them all—so’s after they shoot us and trample us with their stolen cows, our bleached bones can lay in the Nevada desert for the next 20 years for everybody to see?"

  "Well, I don't think our bones will be left out there--"

  "Mine won't!" said Elias curtly, picking up his saddlebags and heading for the door. "Yours will provide plenty of fertilizer for a cactus." And then he was gone.

  Mitch rubbed his chin thoughtfully, while Elias’ last words were still running through his mind. Then he mumbled to himself, "I wonder how much fertilizer a cactus would need?"

  The light in Mitch's office was on late into the night after Cousin Elias left town. Some said he was writing a long last letter to his mother, while others said he was counting his cherry tomato plants for the last time. But they were all wrong …

  The next morning Mitch rode out to Bomont's ranch. After meeting with him secretly for half an hour, the two of them went out to the west range to look at Bomont's cows. All the hands noticed that Bomont looked happier than he had in weeks, and he even smiled at one or two of them (which was pretty rare, even when he was in a really good mood).

  After looking over the herds, Mitch and Bomont picked out a black spotted heifer with a big black splotch over its nose. Then they said good-by and Mitch headed for town, leading the heifer on a rope behind him.

  Mitch tethered the cow (which he named Flutterbusket) behind the sheriff's office, making sure it was far enough away from his lettuce plants to not do them in. Every day for the next two weeks Mitch babied that cow as if it were a newborn giraffe, bringing it special salads, talking to it, and even giving it a special cantelope juice bath. And everyday, for no reason that anyone could think of, Mitch had old Mrs. Gates come over and watch. Mrs. Gates was older than the oldest hill anyone had ever seen, and had a mouthful of gums with two buckteeth in front. She was ornery and cantankerous and had been thrown out of the Ladies Aid for belting some of the other ladies with her massive purse. But for all her eccentric ways she was sharp as a tack and loved gardening and animals better than she liked most people. Mitch was often over at her cottage at the edge of town to admire and talk about her garden, and the two frequently exchanged seeds and plants.

  After two weeks Mitch took Flutterbusket back to Bomont's ranch where she was put back in with the herd (she wasn’t very happy about this, since she didn't want the babying to stop). Then another week passed and rumors started to fly around town that Mitch and Bomont must have had a falling out since Mitch hadn't even gone out once to look for the rustlers. But the curious thing was that Bomont didn't seem to be upset with Mitch at all, but was actually smiling a lot more than he had since his cattle were first rustled. Some people said he must have finally cracked, or that Mitch's vegetables must have got to him.

  And then came another morning when the town woke up to a swarm of Bomont riders, getting ready to chase after the rustlers again. This time they had taken 50 head from the upper east range. The ranch hands were all glum because they knew they'd have to go out and ride all day in the hot Nevada sun and not catch anyone, just like the last two times. But strangely enough, Bomont himself seemed almost gleeful, as if losing 50 head of cattle was just what he wanted to happen. This made some people all the more sure that something must have gone wrong with his head.

  After the Bomont riders had all gone off in a cloud of dust and screeching chickens, the townsfolk saw Sheriff Mitch hitch up his horse and buggy and go over to Mrs. Gates' house. Then the two of them left town heading in the opposite direction from that taken by Bomont and his riders! It looked like Mitch had admitted defeat at last for not having caught the rustlers, and was leaving town before Bomont got back and skinned him for having lost more cows. The saloon keeper was so happy to see Mitch leave that he danced a little jig all the way down the street to the sheriff’s office, where he put a ‘For Rent’ sign on the door just for fun.

  The Bomont riders were back in town that night with the same story as before. They had chased around in the hot dust all day, but lost the rustlers' trail somewhere in Hard Rock Canyon. They were tired and cross and cursing everyone, especially the sheriff for having fai
led to catch the rustlers before now. But Bomont just smiled in a cruel sort of way and didn't say a word to anyone (and no one dared say anything to him, for fear of losing his head).

  Mitch and Mrs. Gates didn't come back the next day, or the next, or even the next. It looked like he was gone for good. The saloon keeper thought he was in heaven, and started switching his gambling tables back so they would cheat people out of their money. The town council decided to celebrate by doubling the permit fee that they made all new gold seekers pay when they arrived in town. But even though it looked like Mitch must be gone for good, there was still a kind of unspoken agreement among all the rough and mean galoots in town that they wouldn't totally turn Broken Jaw Junction back to riotous looting. Not just yet, anyway, just in case Mitch was to show up.

  Meanwhile, the strange disappearance of Mitch and Mrs. Gates was made even stranger when Bomont himself disappeared. Rumors started flying right away that he had gone so crazy from losing his cows that he decided he was a jackrabbit instead of a man and went hopping off into the desert and got eaten by coyotes. Others said he got so strange in the head that he decided to become a cactus, so he went off into the desert and just stood there, holding up his arms in a cactus sort of way, until he keeled over from heat stroke.

  But all the rumors stopped a week later when Bomont, Mitch, Mrs. Gates and Cousin Elias rode into town with Flutterbusket trailing behind them on a tether rope. Most amazing of all, they said that the rustlers had been captured! All nine rustlers were now sitting in jail in Reno, and the inside man at Bomont’s ranch had been identified and would soon be sitting in Mitch’s jail. Bomont's cows were in Reno too, and he immediately sent off a dozen riders to round them up and bring them back.

  The townspeople swarmed around the four and peppered them with questions, but Mitch and Bomont just said there was nothing more to tell, and Mrs. Gates just glared at everyone (especially the women from the Ladies Aid) and held up her purse in a menacing way. It wasn't until an hour later that a crowd cornered Cousin Elias (who just happened to meander over where he could easily be cornered) and forced him to tell what happened. He then took two whole hours to stretch out the tale, with a heavy dose of bragging about how he was the one who was responsible for catching the rustlers. In order to spare you from his distorted version of the facts, this is what really happened.

  In keeping with Mitch’s plan, Mitch and Mrs. Gates headed straight for Reno when they left town, with Bomont following a few days later. After they all met up in Reno, they rounded up the local sheriff and then headed over to the stock yards where all the cattle are shipped out of town. It didn't take long for them to find a group of about 100 cows with fresh 'fat cat' brands on them. Tending the cows were about 9 surly cow hands, including the fellow Bomont had talked to before. This cowpoke just smirked in a nasty sort of way and said to Bomont, "so, you’ve come back to pretend like these are your cows, eh?"

  "No pretendin'," said Bomont gruffly. Then he turned to Mitch and said, "do your stuff, sheriff."

  Mitch swung down from the buggy and started looking carefully through the cows. Some of the 9 cowhands started to get nervous, and the smirking one that had taunted Bomont (whose name was 'Butch') said to Mitch, "Hey, now, hold on! You got no business messing with our cows!"

  "I'm afraid I do," replied Mitch showing his badge. "I have a reasonable suspicion these cows may be stolen. Because I am an officer of the law, and since they are in a public place, it is my duty to look them over."

  Now Butch really started to get nervous. Turning to the Reno sheriff, he said, "You gonna put up with this? You're the law in Reno, not him."

  "Sorry," said the Reno sheriff. "He's shown me his authority from the federal marshals, and that's good enough for me. And if I were you," he added quickly as he noticed several cow hands trying to slink away, “I’d stay right here 'till he's done or you'll be sleepin’ in Boot Hill tonight.” Quick as a wink, the Reno sheriff's gun was in his hand—and it wasn’t loaded with itch pellets like Mitch's! All of the cow hands moved their hands as far away from their guns as possible and stood still as statues.

  Suddenly Mitch called out, "Here she is! Come here Flutterbusket. Come to daddy!" At Mitch's call, a black spotted heifer with a black patch over her nose came charging up to Mitch, nearly knocking him over in her excitement. She began to nuzzle him expectantly.

  Mitch went back to the buggy (followed closely by Flutterbusket) and pulled a pail out of the back. At the sight of it, Flutterbusket banged her nose against the pail and tried to pull it out of Mitch's hands. When he poured the leafy contents of the pail on the ground in front of her, she dived into it as if she hadn't eaten in a week.

  "That's her, all right," said Mitch triumphantly. "That's Flutterbusket, one of Bomont's cows that I kept at the sheriff's office for two weeks."

  Butch's face had gone white. But he wasn't one to give up easily. "Says you only!" he yelled. "I say that's my cow that I raised in California!"

  "Mrs. Gates?" said Mitch calmly, turning to the old woman. "Could you be my witness?"

  "Sure enough," she said in her gravelly voice. "That there's the very cow Sheriff Mitch had in Broken Jaw Junction. I saw her tuck into that slop every day just like that. Ain't no other cow would touch it, since its got garlic in it."

  "Garlic?" said Butch in amazement. "That cow is eatin' garlic?!"

  "Sure thing!" said Mitch as he pushed Flutterbusket aside (with considerable effort) and picked up a healthy dose of what she had been eating. He held it up for Butch, then for the Reno sheriff, and at one whiff, each screwed up his face and agreed that it had lots of garlic in it.

  "But that still don't prove nothin'!" said Butch desparately. "Any cow would eat that."

  "Let's see if they would," said Mitch cheerfully. He then went from cow to cow and offered it some of Flutterbusket's garlic salad, but not one of them wanted any, and several wrinkled their noses and tried to run away.

  "That just can't be!" moaned Butch in amazement. "How'd you get that cow to eat garlic?"

  "Easy enough," replied Mitch as he cheerfully helped the Reno sheriff put handcuffs on all the rustlers. "I fed her pure lettuce to start with, which every cow loves. Then I started putting a little garlic in it, then a little more the next day, then a little more, until finally she just got used to it!"

  Butch and his buddies looked like they'd just swallowed some garlic themselves. They looked so glum that Mitch pulled a tray from the back of the buggy and held it up to them. "Anybody want a carrot stick? It'll help you feel better, and it's great for improving your eyesight, although it doesn't do much for hindsight." They just stared at him with sick looks on their faces. When Mitch pulled a tray of celery sticks from his buggy and started pushing them to have some, they all started begging the Reno sheriff to take them to jail, which he was happy to do.

  And that’s the story, or at least all of it except the last part where Cousin Elias comes in. Mitch, Bomont and Mrs. Gates ran into him on their way out of town. He was begging at a street corner, and was so starved looking and scruffy that they hardly recognized him. He was so happy to see them that he nearly jumped out of his skin, which wouldn’t have been hard to do, since he’d lost so much weight that his ornery hide was all wrinkled and too big for his bones. After greedily filling up on Mitch’s carrot sticks and celery (which he only ate because he was starving), he explained with some embarrassment that he had ran out of money and couldn't make it home to West Virginia. (Of course, in the story that Cousin Elias told to the townspeople, he didn't mention anything about this. In fact, in his version, he said he was the one who had the idea of feeding garlic to Flutterbusket, and that he left town weeks before Mitch in order to go to Reno and watch for the rustlers). Anyway, after Elias got his strength back enough to travel, the four had an uneventful trip back home to Broken Jaw Junction.

  And that is how Sheriff Itchy Mitch brought the cattle rustlers to ju
stice without having to chase them all over the country, by using a little bit of garlic and a cow named Flutterbusket.