Lone Star 03

by Ellis, Wesley

  “Now suppose the rustlers came back every few months, not just when the market herds are formed.”

  “Jessie, you know that if that happened, every hand on all these ranches would join forces and wipe out the rustlers. And we’d be right with them, leading the Circle Star men.”

  “How long do you think a cattle ranch can survive if it has to fight a constant war with rustlers, Ki? How long would Brad Close or the X Slash X last under those conditions?”

  “Brad might hold on another year. The X Slash X—well, two years, maybe three.”

  “And how long do you think it would take the capital syndicate to decide they’d better get rid of the Lazy G?”

  “They’re Eastern promoters, not Texas cattlemen. They’d sell out to anybody who made them an offer.”

  “Where would the Circle Star be then?”

  “Surrounded by strangers.”

  “Or the cartel.”

  Ki stared at her, his mouth open. Then he said slowly, “Do you really think—”

  “Yes I do. As long as there’s a Starbuck here, the Circle Star will be one of their prime targets.”

  “I suppose the cartel could have gotten the idea of starting the old Laredo Loop up again,” Ki frowned. “It wouldn’t be too hard for them to get a bunch of rustlers together in Mexico, outlaws who’d know how the Loop works.”

  “Remember what Brad said this evening. There are plenty of men in Mexico with guns for hire.”

  “But doing what you’ve dreamed up would take them years!”

  “You know how the cartel works, Ki. They don’t count time and costs, as long as they see a chance to win in the end.”

  Ki nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. They’ve already proved that by the years and the money they spent fighting your father.”

  “And if I can imagine a plan like the one I’ve just told you about, they can too. They’re not stupid.”

  “No. They’re not. It wouldn’t take them long, either, if they really are working on the kind of scheme you described.”

  “Even if it cost them a fortune, they’d wind up owning a spread bigger than the capital syndicate got,” Jessie pointed out. “They’d make money, in the long run.”

  “And they’d have—” Ki stopped short.

  “They’d have eliminated the Starbucks,” Jessie finished for him, her voice bitter.

  “Yes. But I can’t see you just letting them get away with it. ”

  “Oh, we’re going to fight. Even if everything I’ve talked about is just a wild dream, something I’ve imagined could happen, we’ll fight.”

  “That’s hardly a surprise, Jessie. The question is how.”

  “We’ll have to find out who and what we’re fighting, first.”

  “A trip to Mexico?”

  “Yes. But first, a visit to Fort Chaplin.”

  “To investigate Lieutenant Joseph Farnam?”

  “I’m sure that when we do, we’ll find out there’s a ‘Junior’ after his name.”

  “Brad might be able to tell us that,” Ki suggested.

  “Perhaps. But I don’t want Brad to know anything about our plans. Or what we’ve been talking about tonight.”

  Ki nodded. “There’d be no way of stopping him, if he found out what we’re planning.”

  “He’s not in any condition to go back to Mexico, Ki. A trip like that would more than likely kill him.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “It’ll take us most of tomorrow to get ready. We can’t even begin to make any plans until Brad starts back to the Box B.”

  “Fort Chaplin’s a long day’s ride from here, Jessie,” Ki reminded her.

  Jessie shrugged. “We’ve made long day’s rides before. And will again, I’m sure.”

  “Day after tomorrow, then?”

  “Yes,” Jessie agreed. “Day after tomorrow, at daybreak.”

  Chapter 5

  “Unless I’m wrong, we’ll be in sight of Fort Chaplin before sundown,” Ki told Jessie across the coals of the small fire he’d kindled for their noonday meal.

  They both sat with folded legs, facing one another across what was left of the small, wood-conserving fire over which Ki was boiling water for their noon tea. Jessie wore her range clothing: tight, well-broken-in denim jeans and jacket, a tan silk blouse, boots of glove-soft leather, and for the brief stop she had not discarded her brown Stetson, but had pushed it back off her head to dangle at her back. Ki wore his own version of travel togs, which were similar to Jessie’s except that his shirt was a loose, collarless cotton twill pullover, and he wore the canvas slippers he favored in place of boots.

  A pan of water sitting on the coals was just coming to a boil. Ki swirled a few drops of the steaming water in the small teapot he carried in his saddlebags, poured the water out, added a large pinch of tea leaves, and filled the teapot. Then he set the pot beside the coals to let the tea steep.

  Jessie ate the last bite of the vinegared rice balls with bits of chicken that they’d packed along for their nooning. “I’ll be glad to get there, even though I don’t suppose the scenery will be any more attractive than it is here,” she said. “But it will be the first step to getting our questions answered.”

  Ki hunkered down beside her. He said, “I’m not sure about that. We might be better off ignoring this Lieutenant Farnam and going right on to Mexico.”

  “We’ve already talked about that, Ki. I thought it was all settled.”

  “It was. Is, I suppose.”

  Jessie took the cup that Ki handed her, and while he filled it from the steaming teapot, she said, “I don’t see why you’re so impatient, Ki. Unless we stay a step ahead of the cartel, they could take us by surprise when they start carrying out whatever plan they have in mind.”

  Ki rarely allowed his Oriental fatalism to surface, but this time he replied by quoting a line from an ode by Li‘tai Po: “The fighting and the attacking are without a time of ending.”

  Jessie sat silently for a moment before she answered, “There will be an ending someday, Ki. But it must be at the time when we’ve beaten them, and on our terms.”

  “Only a fool would contradict that, Jessie,” Ki replied. “And you’ve led us back to where we started. If the suspicions you told me you have are correct, we’d better be moving instead of sitting here talking.”

  “You’re right, of course,” Jessie agreed.

  She stood up and stretched to relax the muscles that kept reminding her of the hours she’d spent in the saddle. Ki picked up the utensils and cups and returned them to his saddlebag. He made a stirrup of his hands to help Jessie mount. Jessie put her booted foot in the stirrup and settled into her saddle. They headed southwest on the almost-obliterated army wagon road that led to Fort Chaplin.

  An almost imperceptible tinge of pink in the west gave warning of the day’s impending end when they came in sight of the fort’s decrepit buildings. Constructed during the short war in 1846 between the United States and Mexico over possession of New Mexico and Arizona territories, Fort Chaplin was one of the few military installations that still remained active along the Rio Grande.

  Reining in, they inspected the fort. Obviously, little had been done to maintain it. The adobe bricks that once surrounded the buildings had eroded during the years to a dike of ocher earth that now stood less than two feet high in the least damaged spots. It now served only as a defining line.

  Inside the square it enclosed, nothing remained but part of a barracks, a portion of a building that had once been officers’ quarters, the low stone curb of a well, and most of the original stables. A few soldiers in faded blues moved between the stable and the barracks; they abandoned whatever they were doing and stared openly at Jessie and Ki as they reined in.

  There was a small hut at one side of the former parade ground; a flag drooped from its staff in front of the small building. As they watched, a soldier came to the door and looked out, then disappeared inside again.

  “That must be the headquarters
,” she said.

  Ki nodded. “Yes. And now, once more, we become mistress and servant. I’ll keep in the background, as always, but you’ll know I’m watching and ready if you run into trouble.”

  They stepped their horses over the hump of the former wall and rode up to the hut. Ki dismounted first and, aware of the eyes of the soldiers still fixed on them, held Jessie’s horse while she swung out of her saddle and went into the little building.

  Inside, the still-harsh sunlight of the late afternoon was tempered to a bearable glow though the high, small windows that were in the room’s two side walls. A soldier wearing the stripes of a lance corporal was seated at a table, writing. He looked up when Jessie came in, and managed to hide most of his surprise when he saw that the visitor was a young and pretty woman.

  “Ma‘am,” he said, putting down his pen and standing up. “May I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Lieutenant Farnam,” Jessie replied. She pushed her hat back and shook out her gleaming reddish blond hair, aware of the admiring glances that the young lance corporal was trying to keep from being too obvious.

  “Why, he’s out at the stables right now, but I’ll be glad to go get him, if you don’t mind waiting.”

  Jessie treated the soldier to one of her dazzling smiles. “If you would, please. You might tell him that Jessica Starbuck would like to talk with him.”

  “I sure will, ma‘am. If you’d like to sit down ...”

  “I’ll find a chair if I do. But after a long ride, I think I prefer to walk around a bit and stretch my legs.”

  “Yes, ma‘am,” the soldier replied without taking his eyes off her. He backed away from the table and sidled out of the small room.

  Jessie took stock of her surroundings. A row of wooden filing cabinets lined one wall of the small building, but from the dust that lay on the documents piled on their tops, the edges of the drawers and the handles, Jessie could see they had not been touched for months.

  She turned her attention to the boxes that stood against the other wall. They too were overflowing with sheets of paper, and she stepped over to look at them. As she’d deduced, they were current: copies of informal patrol reports, and of the more formal versions of the same reports that had been sent to corps headquarters; payroll records; muster sheets; copies of the fort’s cash accounts.

  She heard the grating of footsteps on the baked ground outside and stepped away from the boxes. She was standing idly beside the table when the lieutenant entered, followed by the lance corporal.

  Farnam wore the gray shirt and red-striped blue trousers of the cavalry’s barracks uniform. He was bareheaded, and his crisp black hair curled down his cheeks in wide side-burns, ending just above the line of his square, firm chin. He did not have a mustache. His eyes were a clear brown, his lips full. Jessie guessed his age as the late twenties or perhaps the early thirties. His skin was just beginning to acquire the deep tan that went with outdoor service.

  “Miss Starbuck,” the lieutenant said. He put his heels together and inclined his torso forward almost exactly forty-five degrees; Jessie recognized the bow as a trademark of the West Point graduate. “Lieutenant Joseph Farnam, Junior, ma‘am, at your service.”

  “Lieutenant Farnam,” Jessie said, extending her hand. She was watching the lieutenant closely for a reaction to her presence, but he seemed to accept as a less than unusual event the unexpected arrival of a woman visitor.

  Farnam bowed over the hand, his lips not quite touching it, another West Point trademark. When he straightened up, he said, “This is quite a surprise, Miss Starbuck. I’ve heard of your famous ranch, of course, but haven’t yet had the time to make courtesy calls on any of the ranches here abouts.”

  Jessie replied, “You’ll be welcome anytime you stop to visit us, of course, Lieutenant. I’m sure you know where the Circle Star is located.”

  “In the short time I’ve been stationed here, I’ve heard a great deal about the famous Starbuck ranch. And I hope your visit isn’t to report that you’re having trouble there.”

  “There’s no trouble at the Circle Star that would require the army’s attention, Lieutenant Farnam.” Jessie paused before embarking on her plans. She said, “Before I go into the reason for my visit, Lieutenant, let me ask you if it’s possible for you to provide my servant and me with a bite of dinner and a place to sleep tonight.”

  “Why, certainly. I’d have asked you to be our guest in any event, Miss Starbuck. This wild country isn’t the safest place for two travelers, one a young lady, even in daylight.”

  “This wild country is home to me, Lieutenant. But like anyone else, I’d prefer to sleep in a bed when one’s available, rather than on the ground.”

  “We don’t have special guest quarters,” Famam told her. “But with a reduced roster, there are spare rooms in both the officers’ quarters and what’s left of the barracks. Your man can sleep there and eat at the enlisted men’s mess. And I’ll be honored to have you join me for dinner, such as it might be.”

  “I don’t want to put you to any extra trouble ...”

  “Nonsense!” Farnam turned to the lance corporal. “Tompkins, you will see to preparing quarters for Miss Starbuck, and tell her man he can sleep in the barracks. Have the hostler take care of their horses, and put Miss Starbuck’s saddlebags in the room you prepare for her.”

  “Really, Lieutenant Farnam, you don’t have to go to all this trouble,” Jessie protested.

  “No trouble at all,” Farnam said over his shoulder before continuing his instructions to Tompkins. “Tell the mess sergeant I’m having a lady guest for dinner, and see if he can provide something besides salt beef and boiled potatoes.” With a salute, the soldier departed on his errand. Farnam returned his attention to Jessica. “I’m still curious about the purpose of your visit, Miss Starbuck, but I have a duty to command the evening muster in less than a quarter of an hour. If nothing too urgent has brought you here, I suggest that we postpone discussing the reason for your visit until later. Over dinner?”

  “That would be very nice, Lieutenant. And please don’t feel that you have to give me any kind of special attention.”

  “Our musters here are very brief,” Farnam said. “I only hold them because regulations require me to. But if you’d like to watch ...”

  “I wouldn’t want to interfere with your duties, Lieutenant Famam. And I’d like a few minutes to freshen up before dinner.”

  “Of course. I’m going to my quarters now, to get my sword. Another regulation, and here at Fort Chaplin, a useless one, I think. But Tompkins should have a room ready for you by now, so if you’ll allow me to escort you ...”

  Jessie walked beside Farnam to the officers’ quarters, where an open door with a small heap of used bedding piled outside it helped Farnam to identify the room that was being readied for her. Tompkins came out just as she and Farnam arrived. He saluted.

  “Everything’s taken care of, sir,” he reported to Farnam. “And I told Coffee to serve supper for two in your quarters, sir. He says not to worry.”

  “Good,” Farnam said. He bowed to Jessie again. “Until later, then, Miss Starbuck. I’ll call for you when dinner’s ready.”

  Jessie found the room as characterless as she’d expected it to be, but much cleaner. A narrow iron bedstead stood in the center of the wall opposite the door. The small chan ber’s remaining pieces of furniture—a table, two chairs, and a mirrorless four-drawer bureau—were set in the exact centers of the walls on each side of that occupied by the bed. Jessie’s saddlebags had been placed beside the bureau, on which a white china washbowl stood, a large pitcher beside it.

  Glancing into the pitcher, Jessie found that it had been filled with water. She sat down in one of the chairs and looked at the bed; a china chamberpot shoved discreetly under it caught her eye. She noted that the bed had been spread with fresh sheets, clean but unironed, and had been made with military precision. The coarse gray army blanket was folded with geometric care at right angl
es to the sides, the pillow set exactly in the center at the head.

  Jessie’s thoughts returned to her brief encounter with Lieutenant Farnam in the headquarters building. His lack of surprise when she and Ki had made their unexpected appearance could mean one of two things, she decided. Either he was unaware of his father’s connection with the cartel and its efforts to wipe out the Starbuck enterprises, or he was capable of playing a very deep game of deception.

  Farnam did not have the look of a man skilled in dissimulation, her thoughts ran on, nor did he behave like one. But dinner and a few carefully phrased but seemingly casual questions should give her the answers she was seeking.

  A small smile playing on her lips, Jessie took a bar of soap, a clean washcloth, and a small silver flask of cologne from her saddlebags. Standing up, she poured water into the washbowl. When Lieutenant Farnam rapped lightly at her door ten minutes later, she was ready to step out and greet him with a smile.

  “It’s very kind of you to accommodate a total stranger who appeared without any notice,” she told him as they walked the few steps along the veranda to his quarters.

  “You’re the one who’s being kind, Miss Starbuck. I’ve been getting bored with my own company for the past several days.”

  Before Jessie could comment, Farnam opened the door to his quarters and stood aside for her to enter. The room was half office, half living room; a second door, in the center of the wall at right angles to the entrance, stood ajar, indicating to Jessie that the fort’s commander had more than a single room. A table stood in the room’s center, bearing place-settings and a steaming tureen. Farnam seated Jessie and took his place across from her.

  “I suspect that some of the troopers have been violating standing orders by using military ammunition for hunting,” he said with a smile. “At any rate, we’re having rabbit stew.”

  For the first few minutes after Famam had served their plates, they ate in silence; Jessie found the stew surprisingly good. After the edge had been taken off their appetites, she asked, “Are you the only commissioned officer at the fort, Lieutenant Farnam? I thought there were enough men here to require several officers.”