by PAUL BENNETT
‘Yeah,’ Red said. ‘It worked well last time. Worth sticking to.’
Stan went round the table dishing out pieces of paper.
‘Gun permits for each of us. Make sure you sign them and carry them around all the time. Red says that the local sheriff is a tyrant. There’s shoulder holsters for each of us, although in this hot weather we won’t want to be wearing jackets. Best to just tuck it in your waistband at the back.’
‘Tomorrow we spend the morning getting to know the territory,’ I said. Turning to Red, I asked, ‘How many cowhands have you got and could we rely on any help from them?’
‘I’m down to just eight – hard to work the ranch with so few. They’re all drifters. They’re staying in the bunkhouse – bed and board is part of their pay. If it came down to it, I wouldn’t like to rely on them for help.’
‘Sleeping arrangements?’
‘There’s room for you all here, if you don’t mind sharing.’
‘I’ll take the bunkhouse,’ I said.
‘Me, too,’ said Bull.
‘Let’s turn in and start early tomorrow.’
‘Thanks, guys,’ Red said, smiling. ‘I feel better already. Whatever they throw at us, we can handle it. Let them come on, I say.’
Bull and I picked up our bergans. ‘You better introduce us to the crew,’ I said to Red. ‘Just in case they’re a bit jumpy.’
He led the way across a yard and round behind the house. There was a single-storey building with a tin roof. I hoped it wouldn’t rain – must sound like hell inside the bunkhouse. Red opened the door and went inside. There were two rows of bunks one up, one down – five along each side of the room. A single ceiling-light gave an insufficient glow. I could make out that some of the beds were already occupied. Faces turned towards us.
‘Hi, guys,’ Red said. ‘Some friends have come to help. You’ll have the pleasure of their company during their stay. Make ’em welcome. See you all in the morning.’
The reception wasn’t exactly rapturous. Still, maybe they didn’t take too kindly to strangers here.
They looked across at a heavily built guy with long brown hair and a scar across his cheek. Boss man, I guessed.
‘You gonna sort things out?’ he asked.
‘You bet,’ I said.
‘Well you can start with the food. I like Chinese food as much as the next man—’
‘I’m the next man,’ cut in a small weasel-faced man, ‘and I hate Chinese food.’
‘Shut up,’ the big man said. He turned to me. ‘Food’s not good enough for working men. Sort it out.’
‘We’ll do what we can,’ I said.
‘That’s our philosophy in a nutshell,’ Bull said.
The big man nodded, then frowned as he took a moment to work out what Bull had said. ‘You take the bunks near the door,’ he said.
Furthest from the stove and nearest the draught from the door. We didn’t argue. We had to earn their respect and there was only one way to do that. Best not to fight among ourselves.
I turned to Bull.
‘Up or down? I said.
‘Down.’
‘First or second?’
‘I’ll take first shift,’ he said, placing his gun on the pillow. ‘I’ll wake you in two hours.’
‘Welcome to Texas,’ I said, kicking off my shoes and climbing up to the top bunk. ‘Sleep well. But only during my shift.’
‘Reckon so,’ he said.
It was now my shift. Someone was snoring at the far end of the bunkhouse and it was starting to get on my nerves. I pressed the button on my watch and the light told me it was three o’clock. I thought I heard a shuffling sound outside. The door burst open and rocked back on its hinges. There was a slapping sound of something hitting the floor. I put on the light and reeled back. The floor was crawling with snakes.
I grabbed my gun and started to fire.
Bull awoke and instinctively drew his gun.
‘You take the left,’ I said to Bull.
I fired and Bull shot a moment after. Someone screamed. Panic started to break out.
‘Don’t move,’ I shouted. ‘Stay exactly where you are.’
We were aiming at the heads of the snakes – rattlers, going by the erect tails and the chilling sound that was coming from them. I reckoned there were about a dozen. Good target practice.
Because it was cold and night-time, the snakes moved slowly. Easy pickings. A couple of minutes of rapid fire from Bull and me and it was all over. The bunkhouse floor was littered with snake blood and corpses, some still wriggling as their nervous systems began to shut down. Bull and I let out breaths simultaneously.
‘You know what this means?’ I said.
‘We’re going to have to put someone to watch outside.’
‘Stan will do a rota,’ I said.
The door burst open again and Red, Stan and Pieter entered with guns out.
‘What the hell?’ said Red.
‘Someone wanted to give us a biology lesson,’ I said. From the look on the faces of the ranch hands it had been pretty effective, too. I turned to address the men. ‘Now you’ve seen what we can do,’ I said. ‘You can rest easy. We’ll protect you. Someone get a broom and clear up this mess. The rest of you try to get back to sleep, you’ve work to do in the morning. Everything’s going to be normal.’
‘Does that mean the usual Chinese breakfast?’ the big man said as he climbed into his bunk.
‘Reckon so,’ I said.
‘Shit,’ he said, pulling the covers over him. ‘Make sure someone dumps those snakes where the cook can’t get at them. I don’t want her getting any ideas for a special banquet.’
The five of us left the room and went back to the ranch house. Ho, roused by the gunfire, had made a pot of coffee. She set it on the table along with half a dozen mugs, gathered her nightdress around her, bowed and left. I grabbed some spare blankets from one of the bedrooms and readied myself for another couple of hours on watch on the porch.
‘I’ll take first shift,’ said Stan. ‘I’ve got things to mull over and lists to make.’
‘At least we know one thing,’ I said. ‘Red’s not exaggerating. Someone wants him out of here. I think this is escalation. Like we said, “who and why” and what the hell has he got in store for us next?’
Stan took the blankets I’d got and went outside. Red lit a fire. We stood around drinking coffee, savouring the warmth of it and the fire, and staring into the flames as if they were going to provide the answers to our question.
‘We know one thing,’ said Bull. ‘Whoever did this has a vivid imagination.’
‘Makes him even more dangerous,’ I said. ‘Hard to predict his next move.’
‘At least we know one other thing,’ Bull said. ‘We can still do it. Shooting the heads off snakes was a great test and we passed it.’
‘Going to make the ranch hands jittery,’ I said.
‘More jittery, you mean,’ said Red. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘Stay alert,’ I said. ‘Make sure we don’t get caught out next time. Whatever’s in store for us. Now we know the lengths to which someone will go to force Red to leave.’
‘Somehow I don’t find that very reassuring,’ said Pieter. ‘It’s only going to get worse, isn’t it?’
‘Reckon so,’ I said. ‘Only one thing to do.’
‘Which is?’ said Bull
‘Go on the offensive. Take the fight to them.’
‘And how are we going to do that?’ Red asked.
‘I haven’t actually worked that bit out yet,’ I said.
‘Hell,’ Bull said. ‘I was getting confident there for a moment and then you had to go and spoil it.’
‘First things first. We’re going to follow Napoleon’s words.’
‘What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger?’
‘Nietzsche.’
‘Gesundheit,’ said Red.
‘Give me generals who are lucky?’ Bull suggested.
‘Tha
t, too,’ I said. ‘But I was thinking of “an army marches on its stomach”.’
‘Good to have a long-term plan,’ said Bull. ‘What do we do after breakfast?’
‘Come up with another plan, of course,’ I said.
‘Of course,’ Bull said. ‘Now why didn’t I think of that?’
‘Takes a special talent,’ I said.
Bull gave a grin and shook his head.
‘White man speak with forked tongue,’ said Red.
‘It was ever thus,’ said Bull.
CHAPTER FOUR
Pieter was still rubbing a couple of hours’ sleep from his eyes when Bull dragged him from the ranch house into the cool crisp air of the early morning. We’d agreed he would put on a show, something to raise the ranch hands’ spirits and take their minds off the events of the night before.
Bull and Pieter got down on the timber deck of the porch and, with Bull acting as if he was a sergeant-major in the army trying to break a new recruit, started doing press-ups. Bull quickly established a steady rhythm and Pieter tried to keep up as best he could. There was another reason for that, apart from making the effort to get into shape. He had an audience – didn’t want to be embarrassed. The ranch hands came out from breakfast and stood there watching. The heavily built guy we’d seen the previous night tilted his head back and gave a snigger. He got down beside Bull.
‘Ten bucks on Jesse,’ someone said.
‘I’ll be willing to take your money,’ I said.
Wallets were opened and dollar bills were brought out.
Bull barely looked up, just kept on going.
Although he had already done about thirty press-ups before Jesse started, I reckoned my money was safe. Bull could keep this up all day if needed.
Jesse matched him and looked like he was feeling pleased with himself. When the count had reached forty, Bull looked across at Jesse and smiled. Then he took one hand off the ground and continued to push himself up and ease himself down.
‘Shit,’ said one of the onlookers.
Jesse crumpled, knowing there was no way he could beat Bull, feeling the fight go out of him. He stood up and nodded sagely. ‘Welcome to the Lazy Z,’ he said and stretched out his hand. Bull sprung up and shook it. ‘A word of warning,’ Jesse said. ‘Don’t eat the breakfast.’
‘Thanks for the tip,’ Bull said.
‘Where are you guys from?’ Jesse asked.
‘Pieter’s from South Africa,’ Bull said. ‘Stan’s from Poland and Johnny and I are from a little island in the Caribbean called St Jude. Be good to wrap this up and get back to our families.’
‘Be good to have a family,’ Jesse said. ‘We’re all drifters. Some day it would be nice to settle down with a little place of my own. Trouble is, I always seem to blow my pay each week. There’s a hell of a cathouse in town.’
The rest of the hands who had been listening mumbled their agreement.
We went inside for breakfast. Jesse had been right. What wasn’t burnt was undercooked, and there was so much fat you could have greased train axles. Stan was going to have his work cut out with this cook; pretty though she was, that wasn’t going to save her from the wrath of a bunch of very hungry men. As we had said earlier, an army marches on its stomach – what you don’t want to do is clutch it all the time, groaning in pain.
We drank coffee and the others listened to my plan of action for the day.
‘We need to scout out the territory,’ I said. ‘Find the vulnerable points and places where we can put a good defence. Bull, you and Pieter take one of the jeeps and study the west side. Red and I will take horses and cover the east. Stan, give this cook some lessons and fast. We’ll meet up here in a couple of hours and compare notes. Then we prepare for tonight.’
‘What are we doing then?’ Red asked.
‘You’re going to pay your hands a bonus and we’re all going into town to celebrate.’
‘Shake the tree and see what falls down?’ Bull said.
‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘Red, we need to spread the word. Get one of your hands to go to town to buy something and let them know it’s celebration night. We need to persuade the enemy – whoever he is – to organize a reception committee.’
‘I’ll give you a list of food to buy,’ said Stan. ‘If I’m going to teach the cook a few tricks, I’ll need some raw materials. Steaks tonight, everybody?’
‘Seems like the appropriate thing to do,’ said Pieter, ‘seeing that we’re on a cattle ranch.’
‘OK, let’s saddle up and get going before the worst of the heat arrives,’ I said. ‘Oh, and take the handguns. Better safe than sorry.’
‘I’ve got just the horse for you,’ Red said.
My heart sank. That statement was usually the prelude to being introduced to a horse called Diablo or Beelzebub that no one had been able to break.
The stables had a dozen stalls, six on each side, and a large tack area at the front. Red opened the gate on one stable and led out a big grey stallion. The horse was a magnificent beast, sixteen hands high at least, and seemed to handle well.
‘Why just for me?’ I asked.
‘Don’t you know your Bible? Revelations. “And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.”’
‘Is that how you see me?’
‘Well, what normally happens when you get involved with something?’
I shook my head. Maybe he was right. Certainly the Russian must have felt that way when I shot him in the head, spraying brains and blood all over Anna.
‘I don’t do it on purpose, you know.’
‘Nothing to apologize for. The deaths have all been among the opposition. You only kill to protect someone else. I wonder who the next in line will be? Anyway,’ he said, ‘let’s saddle up and get going before the heat builds too much.’
‘Bull and I are used to heat,’ I said. ‘But on St Jude it is a dry heat, ideal, eminently bearable. Here the air is laden with moisture, damp, humid, generally uncomfortable.’
‘Comes from the hills,’ Red said, ‘and the clouds generated there. You’ll get used to it.’
He found a saddle, harness, reins and all the other paraphernalia and passed them to me. ‘His name is Shadow. You’ll have to ride him Western style – one-handed.’
I walked over to Shadow and patted his head. He nuzzled into me and suddenly I knew that this was a good horse and that we would bond together. I placed the blanket across his back and started to prepare him for the ride.
‘Got your gun?’ Red asked.
I nodded. ‘And you?’
‘The Magnum is in my waistband. The shotgun will go in the pouch on the saddle. Bring it on.’
I put the Browning in the shoulder holster and looped it securely around the pommel of the saddle. Then we set out like two cowboys from more than a century before. We headed northwards towards the mountains and our plan was to work our way along the northern and eastern boundaries of Red’s land and back to the ranch.
It took a while to get used to the one-handed style of riding, but Shadow was very responsive and almost led me rather than the other way round. I knew my muscles would make me pay for this tomorrow, but it was worth it. It was good to be back in the saddle again.
‘Where did you learn to ride?’ Red asked.
‘England. When I was a teenager. It was my mother’s way to get me out of the house when my father was around.’
‘Lucky for your father,’ he said.
We trotted on and after about ten minutes came to a waterhole fed by a large stream running swiftly down from the mountains.
‘This is where the water was poisoned,’ Red said.
I looked around and up to the foothills.
‘Not much of a plan,’ I said. ‘With the fast flow of the stream, the water would have cleared pretty quickly.’ I shook my head. ‘This was a warning, not an attempt to wipe out the herd.’
‘But why?’ he said. ‘Why do they want me out of h
ere? That’s what I can’t see.’
‘We’ll work it out. Maybe we’ll have some luck in town tonight. Mouths loosened by drink or the threat of a broken arm.’
We rode on. It was truly God’s own country. The plains were lush and spread as far as the eye could see until they merged into the foothills of the Pecos. One problem: it was going to be hard to defend. Too big, too open, too easy for someone to come through the boundaries to the left and right or make their way across the foothills and down.
When we climbed the lower reaches of the hills, the horses nimbly picking their way, we could see a ramshackle farmhouse in the distance.
‘That’s the Blenkensteins’ land,’ Red said. ‘They haven’t got as big a spread as I have. Much harder for them to make a living.’
‘Well pay them a call tomorrow. See if they’ve had similar problems to you.’
‘In some ways that would be comforting. Not just me as a target.’
We turned due south and rode along the eastern border. After around an hour we came to the boundary between the Blenkensteins’s land and that of the Alamo retreat. We were both deep in thought when the call came.
‘Hi, neighbour.’
‘Oh God,’ Red said. ‘It’s the girl from the Retreat. She’ll try to convert us both.’
As she came closer I could see that it was Fey. Her hair was loose and rippled in the breeze. She was wearing blue jeans – de rigueur, I imagined, in this cowboy country – and a shirt knotted below her breasts so that we could see her bare midriff. She was riding a palomino. Bareback! And I had thought I was a good rider.
The two girls were with her, riding ponies; Cameron was on a chestnut mare and Lucy on a bay stallion. They were also riding bareback. That made me feel even more inadequate. They made their way over to the boundary fence.
‘A fine morning,’ said Fey. Then she turned to face me and became pensive. ‘Didn’t we meet at the airport?’
‘It was my pleasure,’ I said.
‘Ma’am,’ Red said, taking off his hat and doffing it to her.
‘Good to see you again, Red,’ she said. ‘How was the pie?’
‘Just like Grandma used to make.’