I heard a footstep crunch on the ground behind me, and when I turned Tommy Lucas was there. He didn't say anything, but he held something out in his hand. It was my sack with the presents in it. I took it with thanks, but Tommy didn't say anything. He just went off away from the fire. Later, I found out that Tommy and Eben Dyer had worked my saddle off that dead steeldust and carried it all the way back to the river and washed it off, and they did the same for Jesus.
I dug into the sack and everything was there. I just knew when I pulled Molly's doll out that it would be smashed to pieces, but it wasn't. Somehow, even after the treatment it had got, the only thing that was busted was one of the hands. When Bill saw that he took the doll from me and darned if he didn't sit down by the fire and make a cunning little bandage out of strips that he cut from one of his factory-wove drying cloths. He did that even though he had only used a piece of old sacking to bandage Josiah, and when he got done you couldn't tell the baby doll's hand was missing. It looked just like a child's hurt that had been bound and soon would get well again.
When I laid down to go to sleep that night I felt awful good. For a long time, I laid there and watched the stars wheel above my head and thought about how lucky I was—not just for getting loose from Josiah and Ben, but mostly for having such friends as we had. That was really something.
In the morning, there wasn't even mention of starting back. Everyone broke camp and got saddled—me on the mustang again and Jesus riding Ben's horse—and started on.
"Do you boys think you can find your way back there now?"
"Yessir," I said.
"You might even know where it is, Senor Sam," Jesus told him. "It is the rancho of Mister Hutch near San Antonio."
"You're sure of that?"
"Si... I am sure."
Mister Sam shook his head. "I've bought stock from him myself. Got a fancy breeding mare from him not two years ago." He shook his head again. "No wonder he'll sell for a good price if you dicker long enough. Every cent of it is clear profit. And our stolen beef has been making it possible for him." Mister Sam gave Josiah a mighty hard look. "And, yes, I know where Jon Hutch's place is."
We pressed straight on, stopping for not more than a few minutes at midmorning—not even long enough to boil coffee.
Along about noon we rode into Hutch's ranch yard. Mister Sam didn't so much as stop to talk things over or lay any plans before we went in, and nobody suggested that Jesus and me stay back out of the way even though Jesus was all black and blue and aching, and I wasn't feeling tops. We just rode up to the front door of Hutch's house and sat waiting.
He came out with a big smile on his face, but it faded dead away when he looked past Mister Sam and saw Jesus and me and Josiah with his hands lashed to his saddle horn.
"You'll be coming with us to San Antone, Jon," Mister Sam told him.
"Why, Sam, I don't know what you're..."
"Shut up." I had never heard Mister Sam use a tone of voice like that. It was as cold as a handful of packed snow, and I think if he had spoke like that in a stampede the cattle would of stopped dead in their tracks and started bawling.
"Ike," he said, "if this pile of carrion speaks again or moves without being told, you shoot him. Don't argue, don't warn him—and don't miss. Just shoot him, and when he goes down, shoot him a couple more times to make sure." He meant it too.
Ike didn't say anything back. He just reined his horse sideways to Hutch and laid his rifle across his saddle with the muzzle pointed square on Hutch's chest and with his right hand resting easy at the grip. He rolled the hammer back to full cock and spat between the toes of Hutch's fancy stitched boots.
"Are there any more of them, Duster?" Mister Sam asked.
"Not now, there ain't," Eben cut in. "Three of 'em just took out from the back of the barn makin' fast tracks toward Mexico."
"All right then, start walking, Hutch."
The dude didn't look so good just then. He looked shrunk up and not near so well fed and fancy. "You can't be serious, Sam. It's nearly ten miles to town. For God's sake, show a little mercy. We can straighten this out later. Now, you come along while I get my horse, and we'll ride in together and clear this up, Sam."
"The night marshal will still be up when we get there," Mister Sam said. "Ike, if he doesn't want to walk, shoot him, rope him, and drag him to town."
Mister Sam turned his horse without another look at Hutch and started the animal at a slow walk for San Antonio. He was right, too. The night marshal still was awake when we got there.
They called a special meeting of the Bexar County grand jury that very next day and took no time at all to return high sounding indictments charging Hutch and Josiah with all sorts of things.
Two months later, Jesus and me came back to give testimony for the trial, and this time Benjie Zakkut gave us tickets for the stagecoach, compliments of the State of Texas and Bexar County.
Even better, when we was done and Hutch and Josiah had been sent off for a prison term, the Stockman's Association invited us to supper at the Grande Hotel. Mister Sam Silas was there, though we hadn't even knowed he was coming, and him and several others got up and talked about how we'd saved them from losing so many cattle.
When they was done talking, a gentleman named Pierce gave us each a box which they said would show us how much they appreciated us figuring out that it was Hutch doing the thieving.
They gave Jesus a brand new Remington revolver with fancy scrolls carved on the cylinder. And they gave me the prettiest pair of boots I ever saw, with a big 3D stitched on the outside of each boot and curly loops stitched across the toes.
I wished Ma could of been there then. I think she would of been proud, and I think she would have thanked the Lord all over again for hearing that preacher's praying and bringing me back home safe. Since she wasn't there, I remembered to thank Him my own self.
GLOSSARY
Agarita—a wild currant bush, very thorny, with spiked leaves
Cantle—the rise at the back of a saddle's seat, quite high at that time
Cavvayard—or cavvy, another term for remuda Chain (as unit of measure)—four surveyors' rods, sixty-six feet
Choused—chased; herding hard and fast from horseback
Chuckwalla—a large, slow and particularly ugly lizard
Coma—more thorny brush, evergreen and bearing a blue berry favored by doves
Conchoed—decorated with engraved silver-plate disks; fancy
Cotched—caught
Dougherty wagon—a four-wheeled light wagon with a roof and canvas side curtains, normally set up with the seats running the length of both sides and facing inward
Grulla—mouse colored, close to dun or buckskin
Huajillo—a sweet smelling and lightly thorned bush, excellent browse for livestock
Jacal—a small, crudely built house, usually of mud and wattle construction
Jinglebob—an earmark; a horizontal split below the gristle so the bottom of the ear dangles free
Manadas—a group of mares controlled by one stallion; may also be used to indicate any group of horses ranging together
Mangana—a rope throw to catch the forefeet of an animal
Maverickers—men who gather unbranded stray stock and
mark them with brands and earmarks for themselves or
their employers
Metate—the stone base against which corn or other grains are ground by hand
Mottes—groves, as of trees or tall brush
Pastores—sheep tenders; shepherds
Peal—or pial, a rope thrown in a figure-8, with one hind foot caught in each loop section
Pike some monte—to play the card game monte, a pasteboard equivalent of the shell game played with three cards and fast hands
Puncheon floor—a floor made of smoothed timbers
Reata—riata; lariat; rope—particularly those made of braided rawhide or leather
Remuda—the herd of spare saddlehorses or remounts taken on the
trail
Retama—more thorny stuff, slender and upright, with green bark and leaves, bears yellow flowers
Sollaoed—wind broken; overworked to the point that endurance is destroyed beyond usefulness
Soogan—or sougan, a heavy quilt, often with a canvas outer covering—forerunner of the modern sleeping bag
Swale—a shallow depression in the ground; gully
Tapaderos—or taps; a covering over the front of the stirrup to protect the foot and prevent brush from entering the stirrup or snagging it—often ornamental
Three-cent shinplaster—paper money issued to replace coins when metals were scarce, often small in size as well as value and at the time generally regarded as worthless
Viznaga—a particularly detested variety of cactus, low growing, with thorns barbed so that they would work deeper into a wound and with a hard surface resistant to decay; viznaga thorns in a joint or foot can permanently cripple a horse.
About the Author
FRANK RODERUS wrote his first story, a western, at age five, and says he quite literally has never wanted to do anything else. He has been writing fiction full-time since 1980, and was a newspaper reporter before that. As a journalist, he won the Colorado Press Association's highest honor, the Sweepstakes Award, for the Best News Story of 1980. His novel Leaving Kansas (Doubleday, 1983) won the Western Writers of America's Spur Award for Best Western Novel as did Potter's Fields. A life member of the American Quarter Horse Association, he is married and currently resides in Florida.
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