Texas Lonesome

by Caroline Fyffe

  Cradle stood speechless. The livery owner, as well as the rest of the townsfolk of Rio Wells, had heard a thing or two about the Calhouns over the years. He took a long drink from his mug before answering.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” His tone was a bit stiff as his gaze strayed back and forth between the two newcomers. Wasn’t difficult to see he was figuring out how he should treat them.

  His gaze came back to Dustin. “Would any of you like a cup of coffee? Just made a fresh pot back at my place.” His gaze drifted back to Sidney and lingered admiringly.

  Knowing Cradle, he’d want to get off the touchy subject as soon as possible, which was proven when he switched it up himself.

  “A fellow ambled into town yestreen, claiming he’d brought the beans all the way up from South America. Poor ol’ mule looked busted.” He lifted the mug. “Tastes mighty good, if I do say so myself.”

  “Not me,” Noah said, looking down with a bored expression from the back of his horse.

  Dustin shook his head. The kid wouldn’t try to make any points with the locals. He’d do his time in Rio Wells and be on his way.

  Noah wrinkled his nose and glanced about. “I couldn’t stomach anything with that horrible stench in the air. What’s that stink, anyway?”

  Cradle’s shoulders pulled back. The youngish blacksmith watched over the town as if the developed plot of land was his child. His love for Rio Wells was evident in everything he did.

  “The hot springs,” Dustin said before Cradle had a chance to get mad. “You won’t be badmouthing the smell quite so much after you spend a little time soaking your aching bones. But I won’t bore you with the details tonight. You’ll get used to it.”

  He’d had enough of the kid. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for a week. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t happen for a while yet.

  True, Noah had held up his end when capturing the outlaws, and Dustin hadn’t felt in any danger when the youngest Calhoun had swung around the borrowed revolver with the ease of a marksman. Still, he’d not endure any lip or have him insult the good people of Rio Wells.

  What would his pa think when they showed up with him at this time of the morning?

  “That’s right,” Cradle added. “The hot springs, odious smells and all, have been a boon for the town. Folks have come all the way from Colorado and Nebraska to sit in the healing waters.” He chuckled. “I’m used to the aroma myself.”

  Dustin disappeared into the jail. The place was cool and dank, and the memory of Sheriff Dane’s body laid out on the cold stone floor still brought a jarring anger.

  Over five months had passed since his senseless murder, but the dustup felt like yesterday. The lawman had been a fixture for fifteen years. Deputy Miller was doing the best he could, but he was a family man at heart. They needed a new sheriff in Rio Wells, and Miller would be the first one to say so. He’d be happy to hand over the badge to someone with more experience.

  Dustin quickly scribbled a note. The last leg of the trip wouldn’t take long. He’d be in bed in the next half hour if he had anything to do with it.

  He returned to find Doc Bixby chatting with Sidney.

  “Doesn’t anyone in this town ever sleep?” he asked, giving the old doctor an affectionate rub on the back.

  “There you are,” Jas Bixby said, looking over the rim of the spectacles. “This little gal says you were grazed by a bullet. You want to step over to the office so I can take a look at it? No need to wake that cousin of yours.”

  “More like you’re dying to get your hands on somebody and do a little doctoring, now that you’re retired.” Dustin felt Sidney studying him, and turned. “Did you search the doctor out on my behalf?”

  One slender shoulder lifted. “Search out help for a McCutcheon? He happened to walk around the corner all by himself.”

  “Just following the yapping.” The old doctor’s gaze wandered the length of his form. “She mentioned you’d been hit. Where’s the wound? I don’t see anything.”

  “That’s because there isn’t one. The bullet only ripped my shirt. I need a tailor, not a doctor. Didn’t even break the skin.” He fingered the spot the outlaw’s bullet traveled. “See?”

  Doc Bixby took a moment finding the location in the dim light. “You were lucky, all right, yes, you were.”

  “Did she happen to tell you she got a nick on her forehead when her horse took a fall? I’ll bet she didn’t mention a thing about that.”

  Dustin pointed, drawing the doctor’s attention from himself onto her. She’d washed her face in Draper Bottom, removing all the blood. Amazing how much a tiny head wound could bleed.

  The doctor’s eyes went wide.

  “I’m fine,” she said, pinning Dustin with her no-nonsense look.

  Noah gave a hefty sigh from the back of his horse. “We gonna sit here all night?” he complained. “’Cause if the answer’s yes, I’m gonna head down the street to that hotel.”

  Dustin felt like smiling when Sidney shot Noah a reproving look. Good. She needs to wise up where her brother is concerned.

  Her gaze moved past Noah, past the saloon, to the dark windows of the hotel. “I wonder if they’ll extend credit since all the money I had disappeared with my saddlebag, along with my music box and horse. Noah’s funds disappeared out of his saddlebags when the deputy locked him up in San Antonio. We’re pretty much destitute for now.”

  Her voice was a bit sad, surprising Dustin.

  “What?” Bixby squawked. “Don’t tell me with all the rooms you got out at that ranch of yours, Dustin and Chaim McCutcheon, you haven’t offered this little lady a place to stay!”

  To make her mad, Dustin arched his brow at the word lady. “Of course we have, Doc. That’s been the argument all the way from Draper Bottom. You try to get her to say yes. I dare you.”

  He wasn’t letting her stay just anywhere. His pa might not like seeing her out at the ranch, but his sisters would. They were always clamoring for news of other places, the styles the women were wearing and whatnot.

  Even with Sidney in the house, he’d not waver about Noah lodging in the bunkhouse. He’d been arrested, and this was a punishment. Dustin wasn’t rewarding him for bad behavior. Manolito would keep an eye on him and let Dustin know if he took a step out of line.

  The doctor pulled back when he saw her straighten up for a fight. “Naw, I believe you if you say so.”

  Sidney looked back and forth between him and the doctor. “I don’t see that I have much of a choice for tonight—or should I say, the rest of the morning. Tomorrow, though, I’ll be back in town and register at the hotel.”

  Cradle’s eyes went wide, a large smile blooming. “How long you two planning to stay in Rio Wells?”

  “He’s staying as long as needed to work off a debt he incurred in San Antonio,” Dustin said, gathering his reins. “Don’t know about Miss Calhoun. She’s free to come and go as she pleases.”

  He mounted and then held out his arm to Sidney, strangely looking forward to having her behind his saddle once again.

  Her gaze went hard. “How far out to the ranch? Can I walk? After all the hours I’ve spent on the sweaty back of a horse, walking sounds good.” She looked around at the men. “Doing so will stretch my legs. Point me in the right direction, and I’ll meet you there.”

  “No need to do that, Miss Calhoun,” Cradle quickly offered, just as Dustin was about to laugh at her theatrics. “Won’t take me but a minute to hook up the buggy. Chester hasn’t been out in days. The crotchety ol’ thing gets stiff if he don’t get out now and then.” Cradle’s gaze filled with hope. “It’s a nice night for a buggy ride. There’s a full moon to light the way.”

  She turned to the blacksmith. “You’d do that for me? I am awfully tired of sitting on the horse’s prickly hide.”

  Oh brother.

  “Give me one minute, and I’ll be ready.”

  Before Dustin could talk sense into either of them, he saw Cradle turn and hurry
away.

  “You really shouldn’t play with the man’s feelings like that. It’s not nice.”

  Doc Bixby stood quietly, and Chaim looked asleep in his saddle. Noah’s blank face held little clues to what he was thinking.

  Sidney crossed her arms. “Who says I’m playing? He offered me a ride and I took it. Is that against the law?”

  Dustin shook his head.

  “Thought as much,” she said. “Since this is your hometown, I’m pretty sure you won’t shoot Noah in cold blood.”

  In the dim light, he almost missed her lifted eyebrow. “You have my word.”

  If that was how she was playing the situation, that was fine with him. Let Cradle coddle her; he was tired.

  “Wake up, Chaim,” he said. “We’re leaving.” Turning back to Sidney, he said, “When you get out to the ranch, knock on the door. I’ll let Maria know you’re on your way.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cradle Hupton was back in twenty minutes, the buggy hitched and ready to go.

  For the hundredth time, Sidney silently cursed her quick temper for letting Dustin ride off with her brother. If the situation were reversed, would her pa allow a McCutcheon on their land and in their house? She didn’t think so. His bitterness was tragic, eating at him night and day. What if the man he hated, Winston McCutcheon, flew into a rage when he saw Noah, and pulled out a gun and killed him?

  The buggy bounced in a deep rut, jarring her teeth—and her thoughts.

  Mr. Hupton’s glance was contrite. “Sorry, Miss Calhoun. Those potholes are a mite difficult to see in the moonlight. I’ll try and be more careful.”

  She smiled. “No problem. I assure you I won’t break. This seat is mighty comfortable.”

  The large eyes of the sturdy smithy made him look like an overgrown calf, complete with an abundance of dark lashes that would make any saloon girl jealous. He had a wholesome innocence about him that made her feel completely comfortable in his presence, even though they’d just met. Surely, Dustin wouldn’t have let her ride off into the darkness with the man unless he was trustworthy. And neither would Doc Bixby. Sidney had liked the welcoming warmth in the old doctor’s gaze from the moment he’d walked up.

  “That’s good to hear. I wouldn’t want your brothers to come gunnin’ for me.”

  Frowning, she glanced in his direction. She wasn’t used to hearing her brothers referred to in a disparaging way.

  “If you were to break, I mean,” he added.

  She laughed, trying for a little levity. “I can assure you that won’t happen.”

  He shrugged and turned his shy gaze back to the road.

  “I appreciate this ride. It’s very kind of you, especially at this time of night.” She glanced up at the full moon. “I suppose outlaws and Comancheros feel this is too close to Rio Wells for marauding?”

  Ever since the attack today, after the McCutcheons had told her and Noah that the ride from San Antonio would be uneventful, she wasn’t trusting anyone.

  “Oh, absolutely, Miss Calhoun. You don’t have to worry. Rio Wells has grown. We have ranches scattered out here among the rolling hills. You can’t see ’em, but it’s pretty civilized. We haven’t had any trouble since four months back.”

  Again, she glanced at him, this time with a raised brow. “Four months, you say?” She still had her loaded Colt strapped to her thigh.

  “That’s right, last June. Can’t count those murders, though. They were arranged by the town’s skunk of a banker—but he’s gone now, hung by a rope until dead. He’d hired a band of Comancheros to do his dirty work. They attacked a stage and killed a bunch of poor, unsuspecting folks. Later, he even had Dustin and Chaim’s cousin kidnapped and left in a hot box to die.”

  “Cousin?”

  “You bet. Charity McCutcheon. She’s from the Montana clan of McCutcheons, and was here visiting.” Cradle chuckled as he guided the buggy off the main road and onto a smaller one. “You’re completely safe. As I said, since then and before, Rio Wells is a pretty dull place. Now, when you get out in the badlands or San Antonio, well, I can’t promise you anything there.”

  The silhouette of a tall saguaro on the far horizon surrounded by stars snagged her attention. That doesn’t sound too promising.

  “Or the Rim Rock.”

  She glanced at his profile. “Why, Mr. Hupton? Because of Mr. McCutcheon? Winston?”

  He shrugged. Seemed he didn’t want to speak about his friends.

  “Is that what you meant? I can’t imagine it’s anything different. I appreciate the heads-up.”

  “I don’t like to say, being, well, I just don’t. That said, everyone knows about the trouble between the McCutcheons and the Calhouns.”

  “I’m sure,” she said, taking a hold of the handrail. “Why wouldn’t he calumniate my family every chance he got? He had to do something to cover his dirty tracks.”

  Cradle straightened and snapped the reins over Chester’s back with force. “I didn’t say that. I’ve never heard Winston, or any other McCutcheon, say a bad word about the Calhouns.” He reined Chester away from a deep rut before the wheel had a chance to hit. “Actually, I can’t remember how I heard about the dispute, or what exactly was said. Word got around, but everyone knows Winston would never do anything dishonest.”

  Cradle’s praise for Dustin’s father stirred her anger, but she held her tongue. She’d said as much as she should, taking into consideration Cradle seemed to be a good friend of the family.

  For the rest of the ride, she anchored her gaze out on the horizon, mentally preparing herself for the battle. These McCutcheons sure had pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes. The situation was nauseating, to say the least.

  “You’re what?” Winston McCutcheon barked. Coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug completely forgotten in his hand. “Of all the stupid, idiotic things I’ve ever heard, this takes the prize. I won’t allow it!”

  His pa had been sitting in his office when he and Chaim arrived. Plagued by insomnia, his father usually killed several hours a night behind his desk. He’d heard their entry and met them as they came through the front door, a welcoming smile on his face that was now nowhere to be seen.

  Straightening to his full height, Dustin met his father eye to eye. He didn’t appreciate the fact his pa was accusing him of wrongdoing when the blame lay at the feet of good old Judge Halford. His father’s long-time friend had a sick sense of humor.

  “If I could change the situation, Pa, you know I would! Ol’ man Halford was set. He was quite amused about it too.” He glanced at Chaim for confirmation. “If you have a bone to pick, then go see him. I wouldn’t bring this down on our heads—your head—if I could have avoided it.”

  “That’s right, Pa,” Chaim, the peacekeeper of the family, calmly agreed. He inched his way between Dustin and Winston. “It’s not forever. The sentence will pass quickly.”

  “Sage words.” Dustin shifted his weight.

  If only Pa had been asleep. I wanted to save this confrontation until the morning, when we’re all rested.

  Chaim hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Calhoun’s tucked away in the bunkhouse with strict orders to Manolito to keep an eye on him. Nothin’s gonna happen. Except we’ll have a new hand for a short time.”

  “A rattlesnake nesting with my men,” Winston hollered. “Now that thought makes me happy. How many times have the Calhoun boys gone to cuffs with you in Kansas?”

  He glared at Dustin, and then at Chaim. “Too many times to count! And what about the window in his sleeping quarters? It’s large enough for him to sneak out. I trust him as much as I trust his father. Which is not at all! How did this transpire, anyway? Why the Rim Rock?”

  Chaim’s face colored and Dustin swallowed a groan. “Halford picked us randomly out of the crowd.”

  “I heard all that! But I don’t believe it. Halford knows how I feel about Jock Calhoun. Hell, everybody does.” Unmindful of the others in the house, he shouted, his angry voice ricochetin
g off the walls like a gunshot in a canyon. “Jock Calhoun’s sole purpose in life is to besmirch the McCutcheon name. I won’t have any of his offspring on my land.”

  Dustin chanced a look at Chaim. They hadn’t yet broken the news about Sidney—and her staying in the house. Before long, she’d knock on the door.

  “You make them sound like cattle, Pa. Be reasonable.”

  “Reasonable?” Winston clapped down his mug on the entry table next to the wall, and then pushed an aggravated hand through his sleep-disheveled hair, his mouth a hard, straight line. “I’ve been nothing but reasonable and charitable, for so many years concerning Jock Calhoun that the whole thing has become a joke,” he spat contemptuously. “And how am I repaid?”

  His glowing red face looked as if he’d bitten into one of Maria’s enchiladas filled with jalapeños. A sheen slicked his tall forehead.

  “With more lies, more slander!” He turned to Dustin with the eyes of a hawk. “Wait a minute. Did you just say them?”

  Now was not the best time to bring up Sidney. In his whole life, Dustin had never seen such an angry outburst from his father. The man needed to settle down before something really awful happened. His pa wasn’t a spring rooster anymore.

  Winston jumped into his next question, seeming to have forgotten his last. “What did you do, Dustin, to get this albatross hung around your neck? I know there’s something! You’re not innocent in all this. Why did Butch pick you out of all the people in the courtroom? A decision like that wasn’t random; I know it.” His father jabbed a finger in his direction. “Spit it out!”

  Dustin held his temper in check. Escalating the situation wouldn’t help with Sidney only a few minutes away. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I did have something to do with his decision.”