Ralph Compton Nowhere, TX

by Compton, Ralph

  “Says who?”

  “Says Randy Quin. He’s been sparking her for the better part of a year now, and everyone sort of takes it for granted he’ll step into her loop before too long.”

  The girl in front of the store was shaking a blanket out. She had lustrous hair that gleamed like spun gold and a flowered dress that swirled when she moved.

  “She’s beautiful!” Billy breathed.

  “Randy Quin thinks so. I might if I were forty years younger. But the only things that get me excited nowadays are waking up in the mornings and making it through the day without my gout acting up.”

  “And you called me peculiar?” Billy saw the Palmer girl go back inside the store.

  “Damn.”

  “Whippoorwill, take my advice. Light a shuck and forget her or they’ll be planting you next to that gambler in our pitiful excuse for a cemetery.” Old Man Taylor picked up his knife and wood. “Now go pester someone else. I can’t carve and jaw at the same time.”

  “What are you carving, anyhow?” Billy asked.

  “Nothing. I just like to cut up wood.”

  “Crazy coot.” Billy crossed the street and jingled along the boardwalk until he came to the general store. He stared in the front window a few moments, then suddenly wheeled and walked to his buttermilk and was about to climb on when Marshal Lunsford stepped from the saloon.

  “Leaving so soon? I thought you said you liked it here.”

  “Except for that old fart over to the stable, it’s right friendly,” Billy said, forking leather. “And don’t you worry. I’ll be back. I’ll do like you want and bring some of my friends along. I have me a hunch they’ll like it here as much as I do.”

  “We’ll look forward to seeing you again,” Marshal Lunsford said.

  Billy Braden laughed and rode off.

  Chapter Two

  “What do you think?” Randy Quin asked while examining himself in the mirror above the washbasin in the Circle C bunkhouse. “Should I wear the red bandanna or the blue bandanna?”

  “Wear them both,” was Lin Cooley’s reply. “That’s the third time you’ve asked. Better yet, strangle yourself with either and put yourself out of our misery.”

  Two bunks down, Charley Lone tittered with glee. “That’s tellin’ the peckerwood, Lin! Land sakes, you’d think he didn’t know how to dress himself, the way he carries on so.”

  “I just want to look my best when I see Sally,” Randy defended himself. “If either of you had a girl you’d know how important it is.”

  “Why, you whippersnapper,” Charley growled. “I’ve had more girls in my time than you have fingers and toes.” He scratched his salt-and-pepper beard. “There was this schoolmarm once who took a fancy to me down near San Antonio. Have I ever told that story?”

  Lin Cooley groaned. “Ninety-seven times.”

  Ignoring him, Charley said, “She was a right pretty gal. Big-boned, with a nose a buffalo would love, but she baked the best pies this side of creation. And once she got me alone, why, she about curled my toes. Big as chile peppers, those lips of hers, and a heap hotter.”

  “Enough!” Randy said. “I am not going to stand here and listen to another of your vulgar stories.”

  “What’s vulgar about a man and a woman lockin’ lips? Don’t tell me you and your sweetheart haven’t. I know better.”

  “Sally is a lady, I’ll have you know.”

  “She still has lips and a tongue, don’t she?” Charley shuffled toward the washbasin. “Now get your lovesick hide out of here so I can wash up. I’ve been polite and went last. But as much time as you’re takin’, it’ll be Christmas before I get to head for Nowhere.”

  Lin Cooley, who was lounging against the wall, straightened and nudged Quin. “He’s right. You’re as lovely as you’re ever going to get.”

  “Men aren’t lovely, they’re handsome,” Randy corrected him. “And you should side with me, not this old cuss. I’m your pard.”

  The contrast they presented in the mirror was striking: Cooley with his broad shoulders and blond hair and grey eyes; Quin with hair the color of a raven and a lean build and brown eyes.

  “Shoo, the both of you,” Charley said. “Be sure to tell the boys to save me some bellyin’ space at the bar. Tonight’s the night I drink Old Man Taylor under the table.”

  “You’ve tried that more than once, as I recollect,” Randy said, “and it’s you we have to keep pickin’ up off the floor.”

  “You have no respect for your elders, boy. And unless you want to eat burnt beans for the next month or three, I’d scat, were I you.”

  “Never argue with the cook,” Lin Cooley advised.

  “Got that right,” Charley grumbled. “Us bean masters are the Almighty in britches, in case you ain’t heard.”

  Cooley and Randy left the bunkhouse and strode toward the stable, but stopped when a big man came from the main house and intercepted them.

  “Off to Nowhere like all the rest of the boys?” Chick Storm asked. He was taller than both of them by a head and had a chest as broad as a steer’s.

  “They got a head start on us, boss,” Randy said, “but only because half of them don’t wash but once a year.”

  Chick Storm winked at Lin, then said to Randy, “Word is, son, you’ve been using more soap than all the rest combined. Why, Charley was saying the other day how he never saw anyone so godly.”

  Cooley laughed, and Randy blushed red.

  “I’ve got a reason for wantin’ to be clean.”

  “When I was your age I had the exact same reason,” Chick Storm said. “So don’t let their teasing get to you. I stuck with it, and look at where I am now. I didn’t get this prosperous on my own. Behind every man who makes something of himself is a woman prodding him to do it.”

  Randy poked the ground with the toe of a boot. “I hope you won’t mind my being nosey. But do ever you regret marryin’ Mrs. Storm?”

  Chick placed a hand on the young cowpuncher’s shoulder. “Not once in seventeen years. Regrets are for those who are always looking back, not for those who look ahead.”

  Randy grinned. “Thanks, Mr. Storm. “

  “Before I forget,” their employer said, “Mrs. Storm wants to know if you boys would mind picking up some things for her at Palmer’s.” He pulled a folded sheet of paper from a pocket. “Small things you can fit in your saddlebags. Here’s her list.” He also pulled out a twenty-dollar gold piece. “This should be enough to cover the cost. If not, have George Palmer charge the extra to the Circle C’s account.”

  “Will do,” Lin Cooley said. He pocketed the list and the money as Randy walked on ahead.

  “Watch over our young friend,” Chick Storm said. “He’s as love-blind as a buck in rut, and we both know what that can do to a man.”

  Cooley frowned, then nodded.

  “My apologies,” Chick said quickly. “That was thoughtless. I didn’t mean to bring her up. There’s no one I think more highly of than you, and you know that.”

  Again Cooley nodded, and went to catch up with his partner. They saddled up and headed out.

  Chick Storm was on the ranch house porch. He smiled and waved.

  “Nice people, those Storms,” Randy said. “Salt of the earth and then some. I’ve never been so proud to ride for a brand as I am to ride for the Circle C.”

  “Anyone who tries to harm them answers to me.”

  “That Mrs. Storm sure is something. Don’t tell the big sugar, but I suspect she runs things more than he does.”

  “She’s a special lady,” Lin agreed.

  Randy adjusted his blue bandanna. “I’ve given it a lot of thought. Tonight is the night I pop the question.”

  “Just like you were fixin’ to do every month we go to Nowhere,” Cooley responded. “That girl isn’t going to wait forever.”

  Randy nodded. “I know, I know. I should have got down on bended knee months ago. But it’s one thing to think about doing it and another to have the courage to go t
hrough with it.” Although there was no one within a hundreds of yards of them, he lowered his voice. “Just between you and me, pard, I get so scared, I shake inside.”

  “Ever heard of seizin’ the bull by the horns?”

  “Hell, I’ll tackle any bull alive. But a female critter is something else. When I look into those green eyes of hers, my throat won’t work and my brain stops and it’s all I can do to remember my name.”

  “Love does that,” Cooley said.

  “You were in love once, weren’t you? Before we met?”

  Cooley duplicated his earlier frown. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not now. Not as long as we live.”

  “Sorry, pard.”

  After that they were quiet for many a mile, until they came to the southwestern boundary of the Circle C.

  “What will I do if she says yes?” Randy abruptly asked.

  “I’ll take a wild guess and say you should marry her. Or run off to Argentina. Your choice.”

  “I’m serious. I’ve barely two hundred dollars to my name. I don’t own any land, I don’t have a house. Where would we live? What would we do?”

  “Take the stairs one step at a time,” Lin said. “First you get married, then you work out the rest.”

  “But her folks will be expectin’ me to provide for her, won’t they? And how would it look, Sally and me livin’ in a tent in the middle of the prairie somewhere? With not even an outhouse to call our own?”

  Cooley glanced at him. “Do you know why I like being your pard?”

  “Because I’d back you to the death?”

  “Because you’re the silliest galoot who ever wore spurs. There isn’t a day goes by but you don’t tickle my funny bone.”

  “How nice for your digestion. But while you’re makin’ merry at my expense, my happiness is in shambles.”

  “There you go again,” Cooley said, and laughed out loud.

  Randy fluttered his lips and shook his head and made a sound that resembled a goose being strangled. “I don’t mind admittin’ this whole love business has me buffaloed. Half the time, I can’t rightly figure out whether I’m doing the ropin’ or I’m the one being roped.”

  “Females like it when a man isn’t sure if he’s comin’ or going,” Lin remarked. “It gives them an edge.”

  Randy gazed across the rolling prairie. “The way I see it, the Good Lord dipped into some tarantula juice the day he created fillies. They’re the most ex asperatin’ creatures alive, and that includes rattlers and mustangs. Try as I do to figure Sally out, the more I try, the less I figure.”

  Lin Cooley reined his smoky dun to the right to avoid prairie dog holes. “I knew an hombre once who fell head over spurs for the prettiest gal that ever wore a ribbon. She had hair as red as a sunset and a face that took a man’s breath away. Every time he looked at her, his heart about burst out his chest.”

  “It’s nice to know I have a common ailment.”

  “This hombre spent his every wakin’ moment thinkin’ about her, his every sleepin’ moment dreamin’ about her. He had it bad, real bad, and there was nothin’ any of his friends could do.”

  “Sounds more and more familiar,” Randy said. “Maybe sawbones should start callin’ love a disease.”

  “That hombre would likely agree,” Lin said. “He spent every cent he had on her. Buyin’ her frilly things and such. Taking her to socials and off to Kansas City once with her sister along to chaperone. He lived, breathed and ate her. In the end, all it got him was more misery than you can fit in a bottomless well.”

  “What happened? Didn’t she love him back?”

  “She claimed she did. So when one of his friends mentioned seeing her in the company of another man, he knocked his friend to the ground and called him a damned liar. And when the girl’s own sister warned him that he should give himself more breathin’ space, he flattered himself she was jealous.”

  “Sounds to me like this hombre’s head was too big for the biggest hat ever made.”

  Lin Cooley was silent a bit; then, “He learned the truth, though. One night he went into town when she wasn’t expectin’ him and caught her havin’ supper with the man who owned the hotel. There they were, holdin’ hands and makin’ cow eyes. And what do you think that hombre did?”

  “Went off and bawled his brains out. That’s what I’d do.”

  “Only because you’re so sissified,” Cooley said with a grin. “No, the hombre we’re talkin’ about showed exactly how much jackass blood was runnin’ through his veins by marchin’ in on them and callin’ the hotel owner out into the street even though he and everyone else knew the man never carried a gun.” Cooley pulled his hat brim low against the bright glare of the early morning sun. “Stupidities are like rabbits. They breed faster than we can blink.”

  “Go on with your story. I’m interested in learnin’ what happened to the poor fool.”

  “The girl stood up right there in front of all the people in the restaurant and did the worst thing she could have done. She laughed in his face. She laughed, and she told him that he was actin’ like a boy who had never grown up.”

  “That must have stung.”

  “The worst was yet to come. She said that she was a grown woman and free to go out with any jasper she wanted, and from that day on she never wanted to see him again.”

  “How did he take it?”

  “He felt like a Comanche had stuck a knife in his gut and was twistin’ it back and forth. He was so upset, he couldn’t think straight, and he blurted out about all the months they’d spent together, and all the good times they’d had. And she laughed some more, and told him the only reason she gave him the time of day was to have something to do. That in her eyes, he was never more than a dalliance. Her exact word. A dalliance.”

  “Dang. That girl had a tongue sharper than a saber.”

  “He mentioned all the things he’d bought her, and their trip to Kansas City, and how he took it for granted they would be hitched.”

  “Did she go on laughin’?”

  “No. She got mad. Madder than he’d ever seen her. Madder than he’d ever seen any female. And she started pokin’ him in the chest and going on about how men are always takin’ women for granted, and how just because a woman goes for a buggy ride with a man doesn’t mean they’re joined at the hip, and how if he wasn’t so pathetic, he wouldn’t be actin’ so immature.”

  “Were those her words too? Pathetic and immature?”

  “Yep.”

  “Lordy. I’d have shriveled up and died right there on the spot. I embarrass real easy.”

  “The hurt was worse than the shame. He looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since he met her, and what he saw about tore him apart. He saw that behind her pretty face was a heart of stone. That all she ever cared about was herself. That she’d led him around like a dog on a leash, and now that she had found someone with more money, she was lettin’ go of the leash.”

  Randy glanced at his friend. “What did he do then?”

  “What else? I went to the nearest saloon and tried to drink it dry. By then the news was all over town. A sidewinder who never much liked me was at the other end of the bar and took to makin’ comments about fools in love. So I walked over and insulted his mother and threw whiskey in his face and called him a coward, and when he went for his pistol, I shot him.”

  “Dead?”

  “Through the shoulder.”

  “It’s not like you to have a habit of going on the prod.” Randy justified the deed, then stiffened. “Wait a second. You’re not by any chance comparin’ my Sally to the gal who did you wrong?”

  “All I’m sayin’ is that when it comes to females, don’t take it for granted you can put your horse in her corral until you’re sure the corral gate is open.”

  “Sally is nothin’ like your gal,” Randy insisted.

  “I hope so, pard. For your sake, I truly do.”

  Chapter Three

  Billy Braden rode north out
of Nowhere thinking of blond curls and a shapely dress. He was still thinking of them, off and on, two days later when he spied a pale hump off across the plain to the northeast. He was heading northwest but he reined toward it and was glad he did.

  A Conestoga had broken down. The team of oxen was dozing in the heat of the afternoon sun, while up on the seat sat a middle-aged woman, peacefully knitting. A burly, bearded slab of a man was at work fixing the wheel.

  Billy plastered a smile on his face and trotted toward them with his hands in plain sight. It proved a smart move.

  The instant the bearded man heard the buttermilk, he snatched a big rifle that had been leaning against the wagon and tucked it to his shoulder. “That’s far enough, stranger!”

  Drawing rein, Billy held his arms out from his sides. “I don’t mean you no harm, mister. I just saw your wagon and thought you might need a helpin’ hand.”

  “I can manage right fine on my own. Mosey along.”

  Billy smiled at the woman, who reminded him of a biddy hen without the feathers, and as was often the case, his smile had the effect he intended.

  “He’s just a boy, Hiram. We should be grateful he’s a Good Samaritan and not a cutthroat.”

  The muzzle of the man’s big rifle stayed fixed on Billy. “This is No Man’s Land, Maude. I’m not taking chances.” To Billy he called out, “We’re obliged, son, but you go your own way. And keep in mind I can pick off a deer at half a mile with this here Sharps of mine.”

  “Hiram Bradshaw, I declare!” Maude indignantly declared. “You’ve got no more manners than a goat.”

  Billy kept smiling at her. “That’s all right, ma’am. I understand. I just hope you folks are long gone if those Injuns happen by.”

  “Indians?” she repeated in alarm.

  “Comanches, I think,” Billy said. “I struck their trail about an hour ago. Weren’t no more than nine or ten so maybe you can hold them off with that cannon.” He reined the buttermilk around. “Good luck.”

  “Wait!” Maude hollered.

  There followed a short but heated exchange that resulted in Hiram reluctantly lowering his Sharps and Maude cheerfully beckoning. “We’d be pleased to have your company. And don’t you worry. My husband won’t shoot you.”