Ralph Compton Nowhere, TX

by Compton, Ralph

  “You never know,” George said, and winked. “Maybe one day you’ll marry into a respectable family and take up the mercantile profession.”

  “Daddy!”

  “Why don’t the two of you take a walk?” George proposed. “Helen won’t have supper ready for an hour yet and I have inventory to do.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Randy said.

  The street was deserted, the rocking chair in front of the stable empty. From the saloon came Joe Elliot’s loud voice and louder laughter.

  Randy took Sally’s hand and led her around to the side of the store. Next door to it was the feed and grain. But there were no windows. Pulling Sally to him, Randy kissed her full on the mouth, letting it linger as long as she permitted.

  “I can’t wait to do that every time I come here. I live for your lips.”

  “I hope you live for a lot more than that,” Sally said, her green eyes twinkling. She cupped one of his hands to her bosom and kissed his square chin. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to go so long without seeing you?”

  “I get in as often as I can.” Randy touched her golden hair. “You always smell so nice. Like a flower in bloom.”

  “You always smell like a cow.”

  Randy stepped back. “I wash before I come. In clean water, too, unlike a lot of the rest.” He plucked at his shirt and sniffed. “It must be my clothes. I never thought to wash them too.”

  “I don’t care how you smell.” Sally placed her cheek on his chest and snuggled against him. “The important thing is I can hold you again. Just like I dream of doing each and every day.”

  A lump in Randy’s throat made him cough. “Girl, when you talk like that, you set me to tinglin’ all over. You’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “Am I, dearest? Am I truly?”

  “How can you even ask? After all this time?”

  “All this time,” Sally said, and sighed.

  “Let’s walk.” Holding her hand, Randy led her around to the back of the store. To the west the sun was setting and the sky was fire red. “Look at that.” They strolled out across the prairie. It was just the two of them, alone amid the mesquite and sagebrush and scores of wild flowers.

  Sally breathed deep and showed her white, even teeth. “I do so love it here. The only thing that would make it perfect would be to have a house and land of my own. And a husband to go with them.”

  “Houses and land don’t come cheap,” Randy noted. “I’ve been saving every cent I can but it’ll take me years to scrape up enough.”

  “Men and women sometimes marry and save up together,” Sally said.

  “I wouldn’t want any wife of mine workin’ for a livin’,” Randy replied as a lizard skittered away from them, moving almost faster than the eye could follow. “What would folks think?”

  “My mother works. She helps Daddy in the store.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “And Chick Storm’s wife is as good a rancher as he is. People say she can ride and rope and shoot as good as a man.”

  “That’s different,” Randy said. “Your ma and Mrs. Storm help their husbands at what their husbands do for a livin’. They don’t have jobs of their own.”

  Sally let go of his hand. “That makes a difference to you, does it, Randy Quin?”

  “Why are you usin’ that tone with me? What have I done? All I’m sayin’ is that I don’t want any wife of mine to have to work. Folks would think I couldn’t provide for my own.”

  “A wife isn’t property.”

  “I never claimed she was.”

  “And what if the wife wants to work? What if she wants her own job so she can feel like she contributes to the marriage? Is there anything wrong with that?”

  Randy bit his lower lip. “I don’t know. I’ve never given it much thought.” Stooping, he picked a handful of goldenrod. “For the girl I care for most in this world.”

  “How sweet.” Sally accepted them, then asked, “How long have we been sparking now?”

  “Going on ten months, I reckon.”

  “That’s an awful long time, don’t you think? My cousin Caroline was courted for six months when her beau proposed. And my other cousin, Abby, was proposed to after only four months.”

  “Some men rush things,” Randy said uncomfortably.

  “I wouldn’t call ten months much of a rush. More like a crawl. Why, I could have had a baby by now.”

  “Sally!” A red tinge crept from Randy’s collar to his hairline. “If your pa heard you talk like that, he’d think we’d been misbehavin’.”

  “All I’m saying is that not every girl likes to spark half her natural life way. It’s something you should ponder while you’re out on the range singing to those cows.”

  After that neither of them had anything to say for a while. They stood admiring the splash of vivid colors the sunset presented, the breeze fanning their hair, the triple chirps of a field cricket the only sound.

  “I suppose we should go in,” Sally said. “Mother will have supper ready by now.”

  “I suppose.” Randy held onto her hand. Twice he glanced at her and made as if to speak.

  “When I was little I dreamed about the kind of man I wanted to be with,” Sally reminisced. “For a short while I wanted him pudgy and bald like my father.” She laughed at the memory. “Then I wanted a husband who was tall and broad-shouldered and rich.”

  “I don’t make the grade,” Randy said.

  “Quit your fretting. That didn’t last, either. I came to realize it’s not how much money a man has, it’s what’s inside him that counts. I want a husband who is pure of heart, and who will always stand by me through anything and everything life throws at us.” Sally squeezed his fingers. “That’s not too much to expect, is it?”

  “No.”

  “I also want a man who can make up his mind about things. Who doesn’t dawdle when there’s something to be done. Who seizes the bull by the horns.”

  “Where have I heard that before?” Randy muttered.

  Sally slowed. “Pardon?”

  “Oh, nothin’.”

  “I hope you’re getting the point of all this. It’s important, Randy. Patience is a virtue. But just like there is only so much water in a well, each of us only has so much patience. Sooner or later the well and the patience both run dry.”

  “You don’t need to beat me with a skillet,” Randy assured her. “I see what you’re sayin’.”

  “You do? Good.” Smiling, Sally pulled on his arm. “Come on. All of a sudden I’m hungry enough to eat an antelope, horns and all.”

  Randy, on the other hand, had just lost his appetite. Under his breath he said, “Lord, what do I do?”

  Chapter Five

  The Black Mesa country in No Man’s Land was stark and remote and shunned by decent folk everywhere. Through its rocky canyons rushed hot winds known as the Devil’s Breath. During the day the countryside baked; at night the land was black and foreboding.

  Billy Braden whistled to himself as he came to the mouth of a particular canyon and waved to the lookout posted on the rim. The buttermilk’s hooves rang loud on the stones that littered the canyon floor.

  Reaching back, Billy patted one of his saddlebags. Then he placed his hand on his Colt and negotiated a series of bends that soon brought him to the hidden stronghold.

  The canyon widened to encompass over ten lush acres of grass and trees. It was an oasis in the waste-land, nourished by a creek. The high canyon walls perpetually cast the canyon in shade and kept it cool even during the hottest part of the day.

  Several cabins had been built at the base of the north wall along with a corral and a shed.

  “Hey, Billy!” Dingus Mechum yelled from over by a pool under the trees. “Where in tarnation have you been? We’d about given you up for dead.”

  “I’ve been off to see the elephant,” Billy hollered. He rode to the corral, nodding at others; sadistic Clell Craven; the Ellsworth brothers,
backshooters from the hill country of North Carolina; bald Ben Towers, who always carried a double-barreled shotgun; and the undisputed deadliest of the bunch, Longley, kin to a famous killer and a famous killer in his own right, who wore a matched pair of Remingtons and could use either with uncanny ambidextrous skill. More than a dozen others were moving about.

  As Billy climbed down, Dingus came from the creek toting a bucket full of water.

  “Black Jack is a mite upset at you being away so long. Just last night he mentioned how you should have been back from your scout weeks ago.”

  “I don’t hurry for anyone,” Billy said, but not too loudly.

  “Sure, kid, sure.” Dingus bobbed his grizzled chin. “Thought I would warn you, is all.”

  A cabin door opened and out strode a man-mountain wearing loose-fitting range clothes that made him seem even larger. He had unkempt black hair and a bushy black beard and hands the size of hams. For all his bulk, he moved with a fluid ease. “Did I hear someone say Billy was back?” His voice was like the rasp of quartz on metal, his eyes beady pits that glittered with inhuman vice.

  “See for yourself,” Billy said.

  Black Jack scowled. “Don’t get smart with me, boy. I don’t take sass from anyone. Where the hell have you been?”

  “Scoutin’ the country to the south like you wanted. Lookin’ for places we could hide rustled stock.”

  Some of the others strayed over; Craven, Towers, Longley.

  “As long as you’ve been gone, you could have been to Mexico and back,” Black Jack groused.

  Billy locked eyes with him. “Do you think it’s easy findin’ a place to hide herds the size of those we rustle? Out on the open prairie? With plenty of water? Where no one is likely to stumble across them?”

  “I get the idea,” Black Jack said with a dismissive wave. “So did you find us a spot or not?”

  “I found something better but I need a drink before I tell you about it.” Billy made for a cabin. Inside were three beds and a table, and three women at the table playing cards. All three wore skintight dresses. All three were pale from too much time indoors and all were tired from too much time spent making the beds creak.

  “Billy!” the youngest and skinniest squealed. She wrapped her spindly arms around him and kissed his cheeks. “Did you miss me, handsome?”

  “Get off me, Shasta,” Billy said, prying her hands from his neck. “I came in for some bug juice, not to be slobbered to death.”

  “Be nice to her, kid,” Belle James said. “She’s been moping after you for weeks now. About drove the rest of us crazy.”

  Susie Metzger nodded. “I came close to boxing her ears. The way she prattled on, you’d think you were the handsomest galoot since Adam.”

  “He is,” Shasta said lovingly.

  Black Jack and the others had filed in after Billy and now Black Jack kicked the table and declared, “I want you females out of here. We have us some men talk to do.”

  “This is our cabin,” Belle James objected. “Why don’t you hold your stupid meeting in yours?”

  Gripping her chin, Black Jack gave it a violent shake. “Need I remind you who pays you far more than you’re worth to do as I damn well tell you to do?”

  Belle wasn’t intimidated. “And need I remind you that we’re the only girls dumb enough to live in this godforsaken hole, and that if you rile us, you and your peckerwoods will have to ride a hundred miles to frolic under the sheets?”

  Black Jack glowered. Belle James glowered right back.

  “Damn it, woman! Why can’t you ever be reasonable? All I want is to hear what Billy-boy has to say.”

  “Why don’t we all hear it?” Belle James said. “We haven’t had any word of what’s going on in the world in weeks. Black Mesa is so out of the way, even Indians never come here.”

  Billy poured himself a glass and drank half. All eyes were fixed on him as he sat on the edge of one of the bunks. “So you ladies are as tired of livin’ in the middle of nowhere as the rest of us?”

  “It’s worse for women,” Susie Metzger said, swatting at a stray bang of red hair. “We like to have our hair done up now and then, and to shop, and to walk down a street just seeing what there is to see.”

  Black Jack stirred. “Forget these stupid females. What did you find that might interest me?”

  “It will interest all of you,” Billy predicted, and leaned back. “Answer me something, Black Jack. Why do you keep us here at Black Mesa?”

  “What kind of question is that? We’re outlaws, you idiot. We rob, we rustle, we kill when we have to. We need a hideout from the law. A place where we can hold the herds we rustle until I find a buyer.” Black Jack’s tone hardened. “Which is why I sent you into Texas. We need a relay spot somewhere south of here.”

  “How would you like your own town instead?”

  Ben Towers laughed. “Oh, sure. We’ll buy us a ton of lumber and build us five or six buildings and call it Stupidville.”

  At that, Black Jack guffawed. “Ben, you come up with the darnedest notions. But he’s got a point, kid. Your idea is plumb stupid.”

  “What if the town was already built?” Billy poured a refill. “What if all we had to do was ride in and take over?”

  “Where is this place?”

  “Nowhere.”

  Black Jack’s hand drifted to the Smith and Wesson he wore on his left hip. “You’re testin’ me, boy. You truly are. You do it all the time and I’m gettin’ tired of it.”

  “Nowhere is the town’s name. Hardly thirty people live there, but it’s got a saloon and a general store and a feed and grain and a livery. It’s also got a crippled marshal who doesn’t tote a six-gun.” Billy paused. “And it’s twenty miles north of Texas, in No Man’s Land.”

  “Nowhere?” Black Jack repeated. “How come I’ve never heard of it?”

  “The town hasn’t been there that long,” Billy said. “Which is good or there would be more people, and we couldn’t make it our own.”

  “Since when do you decide what we do?” Black Jack snapped. “It sounds risky to me. A crippled lawman is still a lawman. And the other townsfolk aren’t about to welcome us with open arms, are they?”

  “That depends on how we cozy up to them, doesn’t it?” Billy retorted. “They sure made me feel right to home. Why, the marshal invited me back and asked me to bring all my friends.”

  Black Jack’s beady eyes glittered brighter. “You know, maybe you’re not as loco as I thought. You could be on to something.”

  “I figured you might like the idea.” Billy grinned and started to raise the glass to his mouth.

  With a swift bound, Black Jack knocked the glass to the floor and leaned down so they were nose to nose. “Do you know what else I think, boy? I think that maybe you’ve got yourself a notion you’re smarter than me. I think maybe you have a hankerin’ to take over. To put me out to pasture, permanent-like.”

  “I never said any such thing!” Billy was shaking from head to boots, he was so mad.

  “You didn’t have to say it,” Black Jack snarled. “I’ve had run-ins with your kind before. Wet-nosed snots who figure I’m too dumb to know which end of my britches to stick my feet into. The last one who thought that is buried across the creek.” Black Jack unfurled. “So any time you want to let the coon dogs loose, you give a holler.”

  Billy glanced around the room. Clell Craven had a hand on his revolver. Ben Towers was nonchalantly pointing his shotgun at him. Longley stood relaxed and at ease but his hands were near those nickel-plated Remingtons of his. “I ain’t fool enough to ever buck you, Black Jack.”

  Black Jack moved to the door. “You’re clever, boy. Too damn clever for your own good. But clever don’t make you fit to lead. To do that you need savvy and grit.”

  “I’ve got plenty of grit!” Billy said resentfully.

  “Oh? When was the last time you bucked someone out in gore without havin’ an edge? Without their backs being turned or them not havin�
� a gun? When was the last time you went up against an hombre man to man?”

  “Killin’ is killin’.”

  “You hear that, Longley?” Black Jack said. “You hear that, Ben?”

  Ben Towers didn’t try to hide his disgust. “I’ve never backshot a man in my life, boy. I’ll blow anyone to kingdom come and back again. But I’ll give them their chance before I do.”

  “The Ellsworths have backshot plenty!” Billy declared.

  Black Jack snorted. “Jed and Jeb are hill trash. They live for the feud. They don’t care how they kill because they were raised to think people are no different from coons.” He opened the door. “Killin’ ain’t just killin’, boy. We don’t go around shootin’ folks for the hell of it. That’s outright murder, and will earn us an invite to a hemp social as quick as you can blink.” He went out, Longley and Ben Towers on his heels.

  “I could use some fresh air,” Belle James commented. “How about the rest of you girls?”

  “Count me in,” Susie Metzger said.

  Billy glowered after them.

  “I’ll stay with you,” Shasta offered, smiling. “I’ve missed you so much, I don’t ever want to let you out of my sight.”

  Smacking the bed, Billy stood. “The nerve of him! Talkin’ down to me like that! Lecturin’ me on killin’ and such!”

  “Black Jack just likes to keep us all in line,” Shasta said. “He carped at me once for not taking enough baths.”

  “We’re outlaws, for cryin’ out loud! I kill what I want and take what I want, and the rest of the world can go to hell.”

  “Does that include me?”

  Billy was pacing and smacking his right fist against his left palm. “Maybe hookin’ up with this outfit wasn’t such a bright idea. All we ever do is sit around twiddlin’ our thumbs.”

  Shasta had grown glum. “That’s not true. You stole that herd four months ago, remember?”

  “And had to go all the way to Kansas to do it,” Billy complained. “Then we had to drive all those cow critters clear down into Texas to find a buyer. That’s a lot of work for a piddlin’ three hundred dollars for each of us.”