Logan's Word: A Logan Family Western - Book 1 (Logan Family Western Series)

by Donald L. Robertson

  Cecil turned around. “Couldn’t help but hear that you be the new foreman for Bill Nance.”

  “That’s right, as of night before last. But it would be mighty kind of you if you kept that quiet until I cut it loose.”

  “Aye, I’ll do that. Bill Nance is a man of good character and a fine judge of men. You need anything, you let me know. I think a lot of your boss.”

  “Thanks,” Josh said. He looked up into the mirror to see several dusty troopers march into the Shamrock Saloon. He pulled his hat lower, just enough to make recognition difficult.

  “Cecil, get out some of that good Irish whiskey you’ve got stashed behind that bar for your best Irish customers,” ordered the leading first sergeant.

  He was followed by several other sergeants and corporals. Two obviously green recruits, just out from the east, brought up the rear. They all swaggered up to the bar and watched Starit slip a sealed bottle from behind the bar and begin to pour.

  “Aye, a sad day it is when we have to look for protection from the savages by the likes of this motley crew,” Starit said. He shook his head solemnly as he passed down the line. He reached the two young recruits, looked them over, and turned back to the first sergeant. “Pat, is it so now that you’re taking babes into President Grant’s army? Shouldn’t I be getting out a sugar-teat or will a couple of glasses of milk do?”

  Josh smiled at the good-natured banter as he leaned over the bar. It was something that he’d missed since leaving the army.

  The first sergeant and the other non-coms roared with laughter as the two recruits spluttered and turned red, not knowing whether to laugh or fight, although from the looks of this Irish bartender, they sure didn’t want any part of him.

  “Now, Cecil, ‘tis a man’s drink for them. These boys are doing a man’s job, so don’t be down talking the President’s finest or we’ll be taking our business to the King 7.”

  Now it was Starit’s turn to roar. It was well known that there was no love lost between the King 7’s owner, Wesley Pierce, and the big first sergeant, Patrick Devane O’Reilly.

  Logan had immediately recognized the first sergeant when he entered the saloon. They had been through most of the war together. In fact, the three of them, Josh, Rory, and Pat O’Reilly, had become close friends. They had bonded as men do, during time of war, who respect and depend on each other to stay alive.

  First Sergeant Pat O’Reilly had given the unknown cavalry trooper the once-over when he came in, but he failed to recognize his good friend. Josh, with his hat pulled low, looked like any other ex-trooper, drifting from one job to another.

  O’Reilly had a goal. One more day would see his enlistment up. Over the years, he had saved his money. Because of the training of his mother and father, he was a frugal man and had started making small investments at a young age. After the death of his parents, he’d taken on the added responsibility of caring for his young sister.

  Now he was about to begin enjoying the fruits of his planning and sacrifice. He was going west to California. O’Reilly planned to build a lovely home for himself and his younger sister.

  They were the last of the O’Reilly line. She had just finished proper schooling back east, thanks to the success of his investments. She’d be arriving on the stage tomorrow. On the same day, his enlistment would be up, and they would be off to California. Ah, thought Pat, ‘tis a lovely plan. He was snatched from his reverie.

  Josh was leaning over the bar with his cavalry hat pulled low over his face. O’Reilly hadn’t changed much—a little older. “Starit, you let this western cavalry trash into your clean saloon?”

  All sound stopped.

  The troopers turned toward Josh. O’Reilly looked at him first in anger, then quizzically, as if there was something vaguely familiar about this saddle bum.

  “Mister, it’s surprised I am that you’d be speaking of the good cavalry such as you are. ‘Tis obvious from your clothes you were once one of us,” O”Reilly said.

  The cavalry troopers moved away from the bar and began to make a circle around Josh. He continued to face the bar with his head down and his hat pulled low.

  “Well, I see it never changes. You sergeants always need your boys to fight your battles for you.”

  “Stand back, boys. It seems I must administer a lesson to this out-of-work saddle bum. It’s time he learned he can’t be making statements like that of President Grant’s finest, whether he’s in or out of the service.”

  O’Reilly reached out, grabbed Josh by the sleeve, and spun him around. As he did, Josh swept off his hat and flourished it with a grin.

  “O’Reilly, you always did have a hot Irish temper.”

  “Major Joshua Logan, as I live and breath,” Pat said as he burst out laughing.

  “No longer Major, just Josh. By golly, First Sergeant, it’s good to see you. I figured that after you were transferred to the west, I’d not see you again. You’re looking mighty fine. Although I see you’re still drinking that rot gut Irish whiskey.”

  O’Reilly had Logan by both shoulders and was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Tomorrow Josh, it’ll no longer be first sergeant. I’m retiring and it’s out to California I’ll be. The plan is to build a fine home to gaze out upon the likes of the Pacific Ocean. Grand it will be, truly grand.”

  Josh thought for a moment as he looked at Pat. O’Reilly had been a good friend to Rory. He deserved the opportunity to help his dead friend’s family.

  “You’re getting out tomorrow, you say? How would you like to give the family of an old friend a hand and get paid for it to boot?”

  Chapter 7

  “What do you have in mind?” First Sergeant O’Reilly asked.

  Josh nodded toward a table. “Why don’t we grab a table. This might take a while.”

  “Laddies, I’ll be joining my good friend over at the table for a bit. We’ve some catching up to do,” O’Reilly told the troopers, as he moved to the table and sat down.

  Josh sat, put his hat on the table, and said, “Pat, you’ve been here long enough to know that there’s a fight brewing between the Circle W and the Rocking N.”

  “Aye, I’ve heard some about it. Seems Ruffcarn could be making a move on this fella Nance. Don’t like Ruffcarn and his crew, but I don’t really ken Nance or the lads a-working for him.”

  Josh smiled ruefully. “Doesn’t the name Nance ring a bell for you?”

  O’Reilly rubbed his chin as he thought, then his face lit with recognition. “As I live and breathe. Are you saying this Nance is one and the same with Rory’s father?”

  “Absolutely. He built his ranch in this country. He fought the Comanches and Apaches. He lost his wife here and raised Rory and Mary Louise, Rory’s sister. Now this Ruffcarn moves in, and it looks like he’s intent on taking over this country, including the Rocking N.”

  “Pat, Mr. Nance has hired me as foreman, and I sure could use some help. I’ll be straight up. I’m sure there’s going to be some shooting and probably some killing. I’d prefer not, but I think it’s in the cards. Mr. Nance and his daughter need help now. So what do you think about postponing your California trip for a while?”

  O’Reilly sipped on his drink and thought for only a moment. “I’m with you. But I’ll tell you, there be some complications. I said I was going to California, but I didn’t tell you who with. My wee sister, Fianna Caitlin O’Reilly, is going with me. She’s been back east in school and is raring to come west. Not only is that the truth, but she’ll be arriving on tomorrow’s stage.”

  Now it was Logan’s turn to sit back and think for a moment. Having O’Reilly’s sister here could complicate things. He didn’t want to put her life in jeopardy. On the other hand, he could sure use O’Reilly’s help.

  “Pat that complicates things a mite. I don’t want to delay your and your sister’s California trip. But Mr. Nance and I could use the help of a man like you. You think she would mind staying at the Diehls place for a while? I feel sure she’d b
e safe there. Jeremiah Diehl is a tough hombre and he’d protect her no questions asked. The ranch would pick up the tab.”

  “Josh, you’ve never met a finer girl than me sister. She’s smart as a whip, but lordy, she’s strong-headed. I know for sure she’d be mad as a wet cat if I didn’t help the family of a good friend.”

  Josh relaxed a little. Finding O’Reilly here was a great boon. The man had been in many skirmishes. He was a man to be depended on. He also was an excellent tactician. This was going to be a tough fight, but with O’Reilly and Penny on the payroll, he’d be free to scout around and find out where the cattle were disappearing to and what was happening with this land grab.

  Josh and O’Reilly sat and talked until, looking up, Josh saw that darkness had settled on the town. He also realized how tired he was. He'd better get back to the Diehls, get something to eat, if anything was left, and get to bed. He needed rest, and this might be his last chance for a while.

  “Pat, what time does the stage come in tomorrow?”

  “Supposed to be around noon, if it’s on time. They’re carrying an extra guard with the Comanches on the prowl. Hopefully she’ll arrive on time.”

  “Okay, I’ll meet you at the stage tomorrow. I’m gonna grab a bite and hit the sack. It’s been a long day.”

  The two men stood and shook hands. Josh walked by the bar and tossed a three dollar gold piece onto the counter.

  “Cecil, how about a round for President Grant’s finest,” he said as he walked out the door.

  First Sergeant Pat O’Reilly watched him as he strode out the door. “Buckos, there goes the best cavalry officer who ever straddled a horse. Cecil, fill your glass, for I have a toast.”

  Cecil Starit filled the glasses all around, then poured one for himself.

  Josh stood outside for a moment against the saloon front, letting his eyes adjust to the night. He could hear O’Reilly in the saloon.

  “Here’s to Major Joshua Logan,” Sergeant O’Reilly said, “the best cavalry officer, the best fighter, and the best friend could a man ever have. Drink up, me lads for ye have seen the best.”

  Josh smiled and turned left, heading for the Diehls store and boarding house. The howls of coyotes came from just outside of town. It was always funny how two or three coyotes could sound like twice that many.

  His mind slipped back to more serious matters as he stepped into the Diehls’ Emporium and Boarding House. Ruffcarn would be in town tomorrow. That would give him a chance to talk to him and see what the man was like. There would also be the chance to size up some of his crew. Hopefully he would have a better feel for how to attack this problem.

  Attack, he thought. That may be exactly what he would have to do. First he wanted to check the lay of the land and figure out where Mr. Nance’s rustled cattle were being kept, if they hadn’t already been moved out of the country. He didn’t really think that had happened yet. They might have tried to move them to Brownwood or Ft. Worth, but Mr. Nance would have heard of that. They were probably still in the area, somewhere. As hot and dry as it had been, they would definitely be close to water. That would help.

  “Well, it’s about time you got back here, young man,” Mrs. Diehl said. “If you’re planning on eatin’ here, you best be on time.”

  “Howdy, ma’am. Josh Logan’s my name. Sorry I’m late. Got to talking with a friend I haven’t seen for a couple of years and completely forgot about the time. Sure didn’t mean to miss your dinner, what with all the fine compliments I’ve heard about your cooking.”

  “You just come and sit yourself down here at the table. So happens I saved some left-overs for you; you being a good friend of Rory.” Mrs. Diehl poured a cup of coffee for Josh as she bustled about the kitchen and said, “Mr. Diehl told me about his death. I’m so sorry to hear about that fine young man. Bill and Mary Louise set great store by him. They must be devastated.”

  “Yes, ma’am; Mary Louise especially.”

  “I know. That girl worshipped her brother. Why, he took care of her almost by himself at times, when Bill was out rangerin’. But she’s a strong Texas girl. She’ll get past it. Now you go ahead and eat, then git up to bed. You look plumb tuckered out.”

  “Mrs. Diehl, you have no idea. I sure appreciate you keeping this steak and biscuits for me. They’re delicious.”

  “Eat up now. Here’s a piece of peach pie. It’ll go fine with another cup of coffee,” she said, pouring his coffee with one hand and putting the pie on the table with the other.

  “Martha, the man will founder on all that food,” Mr. Diehl said as he came down the stairs. “You have another cup of coffee handy?” he asked, as he sat down and winked at Josh.

  “Jeremiah, you know where the coffee is,” Mrs. Diehl said with one hand on her ample hip. “I know you married me for my cooking, but you know I don’t fetch and carry for any man.”

  “Honey, I married you for your good looks. Why you were the prettiest girl in Texas, and still are.”

  As Mrs. Diehl poured him a cup of coffee she placed her hand on his shoulder. “Jeremiah, you were always a smooth talker. But that’s not why I married you.” She walked back to the stove with a smile on her face.

  Josh missed this type of banter. This reminded him of his ma and pa. They cared for each other and didn’t mind letting the kids know it. He planned one day to settle down, hopefully in Colorado. He could visualize his own ranch, with a wife by his side to work and build something of value for their children. Josh knew that the most valuable assets he could give his children were what his parents had given to him and his brothers and sister. He hoped he had become the man they wanted him to be. They taught them that their word was their bond; never lie. Wasn’t anything much worse than a liar. They taught them to stand up for themselves and for those who were weaker. When you’re in the right, never back down. They taught them many other positive things that he would always be in their debt for.

  “Mr. Diehl, I’ve got a little problem,” Josh said. He was eating the peach pie, and it was mighty fine. “Don’t know if you know First Sergeant O’Reilly. He’s a good friend and was also a good friend of Rory. He’s getting out of the Army tomorrow, and I’ve hired him to work for the Rocking N.”

  “Why, I do know him, Josh. He’s a fine man. I think you made a good decision. Didn’t know he knew Rory. That’s a surprise.”

  “Yes, sir, it was a surprise all around. I was surprised to see him, and he was surprised that Bill Nance is Rory’s father. But yes, he is a good man. That’s not my problem. He and his sister planned to travel to California when he retired. She’s arriving on the stage tomorrow from back east. He says she’ll be completely behind him helping out a friend. But, she’s going to need a place to stay, and I was wondering. …”

  “Wonder no more, young man,” Mrs. Diehl spoke up. “She’ll have a place to stay here with us as long as she likes. I can’t wait to have another woman in this house. She’ll be so refreshing. I can also find out about everything that’s going on back east.”

  “Thanks again, ma’am. She could also need some protection while she’s here. Once the shooting starts, and I feel certain it will, she could be in danger.”

  Mr. Diehl leaned forward on the table. “Josh, we’ll keep a lookout for her. I promise you, she’ll be safe here.”

  “Thank you both. That takes a real load off. I know that Pat O’Reilly will be mighty pleased, too. I want you to know, I appreciate your help. But now, as good as all this food was, especially that peach pie, I better get to bed before I fall asleep right here at the table.”

  “Son, you go right upstairs, second door on the right. You relax and sleep well. Nobody’ll bother you. We’ll see you in the morning,” Mr. Diehl said.

  Josh made it upstairs into his room. He saw his rifle and gear sitting by the bed. He checked the loads in his revolver, dropped it back into the holster, unfastened his gun belt, and and hung it on the iron headboard. He slipped off his boots and collapsed onto the bed. It had be
en a long tough day. He needed to do some planning for tomorrow before going to slee. …

  Chapter 8

  Sunlight streamed through the window, tracked across the bed, and struck Logan’s closed eyes. A moment passed, his eyes opened, then, astonished at sleeping so late, he rolled out of bed.

  “Don’t think I’ve ever slept this late,” he said to himself, disgusted with his late start. He could hear Mrs. Diehl talking downstairs as she poured coffee and dished up breakfast. He grabbed the pitcher on the dresser and dumped some water into the basin. Josh yanked his shirt off and splashed water onto his face. He looked at his image in the mirror. You’re one beat-up looking character. He reached to his forehead and traced the scar with his index finger, shrugged, and combed back his thick black hair with his hands. He reached into his saddlebags, yanked out a clean shirt, and slipped it on over his head.

  Josh pulled on his boots, and, swinging his gun belt around his waist, he buckled it tight, pulled out his .44 Colt, and checked the loads. All looked good, so he grabbed his gear and the Winchester and headed downstairs.

  Diehl, Tiny Bakton, and Scott Penny were all gathered around the table. Not much talking was going on because they were attacking the food Mrs. Diehl had set out before them. Not stopping, they looked up and nodded to Josh.

  “Good morning, Josh. I trust you slept well? We thought it best to let you sleep, since you looked pretty tired last evening,” Mrs. Diehl said and gave him a smile.

  “Yes, Ma’am, I sure did. Last night has to be the best sleep I’ve had in a coon’s age. Sorry if I’m late again.”

  “Well, you just have a seat at the table. I fixed plenty this morning. Especially knowing Tiny was going to be here.”