Lone Star 03

by Ellis, Wesley

  “There are,” he replied. “But both of my second lieutenants are out with patrols, and have been for the past week. It’s possible that they won’t return for another week, perhaps longer. Since regulations don’t permit me to eat with the enlisted men unless we’re in the field, I’ve had to dine alone.”

  Given the opening Farnam had just provided, Jessie chose to ask at once the question that had popped into her mind, instead of making polite chitchat.

  She said, “Two patrols out at once? Isn’t that somewhat unusual, when you have so few men on duty here?”

  “Regulations again, Miss Starbuck. I’m required to see that each enlisted man and officer spends a prescribed number of days on patrol duty.”

  “I see. It occurred to me that the patrols might have some connection with the rustlers from Mexico that stole a large herd of cattle from one of my neighbors about two weeks ago.”

  “You’re referring to Mr. Bradford Close’s Box Branch?”

  “Yes. Brad’s a good neighbor of mine. When he told me—”

  Farnam’s lips had been slowly compressing as Jessie spoke. Now he interrupted angrily. “Miss Starbuck, I understand that you ranchers stick together. But the army doesn’t like spies who sneak into its forts under false pretenses, even when there’s no war going on! And from what I gather, you’re here to spy!”

  Jessie stared in undisguised astonishment at the lieutenant. Before she could decide what to say in reply to his outburst, Farnam recovered his poise.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Starbuck,” he said contritely. “That was uncalled for on my part. Please accept my apologies.”

  “I’m not sure that I want to, Lieutenant Farnam,” Jessie told him levelly, keeping both surprise and anger from her voice. “All I can think of is that you must be something more than bored by the enforced seclusion you mentioned a few minutes ago.”

  “I’ll admit my nerves are a bit on edge,” Farnam said. “More so than I realized, I suppose. I do apologize, quite humbly and very sincerely.”

  Jessie pressed her advantage. “Don’t you think I’m entitled to an explanation for what you just said?”

  “Yes, you are,” Farnam replied promptly. “But I’m not sure that I can give you one.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Lieutenant.”

  “I—” Farnam began, then stopped short. He gestured at the dinner table. “Do you care for anything more, Miss Starbuck? I think I’ve lost my appetite.”

  “I’ve had quite enough, thank you,” Jessie answered. She took her napkin from her lap, folded it and placed it on the table, and made a move to stand up.

  “No, no,” Famam protested. “I don’t want you to end the evening until I’ve made amends for my unfortunate remarks. I think a glass of brandy might help settle my nerves, and I was hoping you’d like one, too.”

  Not really wanting to leave, anxious to ask Farnam still more questions while his mind was preoccupied with something else, Jessie told him, “I’d enjoy a bit of brandy, and if it will settle your nerves to the point where you can give me an explanation for your accusation, I’ll stay and have one with you.”

  “Thank you.” Farnam went to a small cellarette that stood in a corner of the room. He said, “I’m afraid that all I can offer you is Otard. The finer French liquors don’t get to this part of the world.”

  “Otard will be very satisfactory,” Jessie replied. She made a move to get up, and Lieutenant Farnam hurried to pull her chair back from the table.

  “We can have our brandy on the veranda,” he suggested. “I might find it a bit easier to talk outside. This room”—he waved at its bareness—“may have something to do with my state of mind.”

  “If you’d prefer that,” she answered, her voice cool and unsympathetic.

  Farnam moved chairs out to the narrow veranda. The moon was high now, and full, its glow softening the harshness of the terrain visible from the veranda. Farnam poured brandy into glasses and offered one of them to Jessie. When he turned his back to her to pick up his drink, Jessie saw him empty the glass in a single gulp and refill it quickly. She looked out across the fort’s grounds at the glowing windows of the barracks, and was still watching them when Farnam turned around.

  “It is better out here, isn’t it?” he asked.

  Jessie turned back to face him as he struck a match to light his cigar. In the flickering of the match, Jessie saw that his face bore a worried frown.

  “Yes. It’s quite pleasant in the moonlight.”

  “Too bad things don’t look the same in daylight,” Farnam said. His voice was harsh. He drained his glass as quickly as he’d gulped the first, then stepped back to the table and filled it again. Then he came back to the chair and sat down facing Jessie. She said nothing, but took a sip of brandy, her eyes still focused on the fort’s moonlit grounds.

  They sat silently for a few moments before Farnam said, “I’m not quite sure what caused me to blurt out the totally uncalled-for remark for which I’ve already apologized, Miss Starbuck, but during the past two weeks I’ve been under something of a strain.”

  “I think I understand the feeling, Lieutenant,” Jessie said. Then, to bring the discussion to a point quickly, she went on, “Luckily, my father prepared me to face the fact that being in command of anything, whether it’s a business enterprise or a ranch, or anything involving a number of individuals, requires an ability to set aside facts that might be personally unpleasant and come to grips with hard realities.”

  “Your father and mine must be quite different sorts of men, then,” Farnam remarked. Though he tried to make his comment sound casual, Jessie detected a bitterness in his voice.

  “My father’s dead, Lieutenant,” Jessie said quietly. “I’ve been managing the Starbuck enterprises myself for some time.”

  “I see,” Farnam said. In the glow of his cigar tip, Jessie watched his face knitting into a frown. He no longer tried to conceal the bitterness in his words as he went on, “It sounds harsh when I put it into words, but I sometimes wish my father were dead, too. Then I’d be relieved of the constant pressure I’m under to give up my army career and join him in his business operations, for which I have no liking at all.”

  Jessie suppressed her urge to start asking questions at once. Instead, she sipped her brandy and, in a manner that suggested sympathy rather than curiosity, said, “Sometimes it helps to talk about problems with strangers, Lieutenant.”

  “I don’t want to spoil your evening by boring you with my personal problems, Miss Starbuck.” Farnam paused, then added, “But if you wouldn’t mind... you understand, this is something I can’t even mention to anyone on the post.”

  “Of course I understand,” Jessie assured him in a carefully neutral tone. “And if it’ll help you, I’ll be glad to listen.”

  Chapter 6

  Lieutenant Farnam took his time in beginning. He went to the small table where the brandy bottle stood, and after Jessie had shaken her head in response to his wordless offer to refill her glass, he poured into his own before returning to sit down.

  “I’m sure you’ve already gathered from my remarks that only part of the strain I was referring to a moment ago is connected with my position as commander here at Fort Chaplin.” He paused for several seconds before going on, “You know, Miss Starbuck, at the Point we were taught the meaning of what our instructors called ‘command decisions,’ which involve leading men, sending them into danger. Unfortunately I didn’t get this kind of education from my father on making my own personal decisions.”

  “And your family ties are getting strained, with you so far from home?”

  “I suppose that’s as good a way as any to put it,” Farnam said. “You’re quick to grasp a point, Miss Starbuck. But you’re quite right. You see, Father didn’t approve at all of my ambition to make a career in the army. He wanted me to follow him in taking charge of the family’s business affairs.”

  Jessie was not one to let pass such an inviting opportunity to co
nfirm her initial suspicion regarding the senior Farnam’s connection with the cartel. She asked, “Just what is your father’s business, Lieutenant?”

  “Oh, Father’s involved in several fields,” Farnam answered. “Felt and textile mills, a factory or two, mining, railroads. But a life in the business world never appealed to me. As long as I can remember, all I’ve been interested in is the army.”

  Jessie felt frustrated; Farnam’s disclaimer did not coincide with the mental picture she’d been painting. However, she was sure that, thanks to Alex Starbuck’s careful tutoring, she was able to distinguish between truth and lies. She said, “So you disregarded your father’s wishes and made the army your career?”

  “Yes. Not without some open unpleasantness, of course. But Father never did approve. One of the reasons I asked to be stationed here on the Rio Grande was to get as far away from home as possible.”

  “Where is home, Lieutenant Farnam?”

  “Boston.”

  Though she’d been sure for several minutes that her guesses about Farnam’s parentage had been correct, Jessie considered his reply a final confirmation. She dismissed the subject by saying lightly, “You’re about as far from there as you can get and still stay in the United States.”

  “That was my idea. But the mail can still reach me here.”

  “You’ve been getting letters recently, I take it?”

  “Constantly. Two or three in every mail delivery—which is once every two weeks, thanks to the size of the state of Texas.”

  “It should be easy enough for you to hold your own, Lieutenant Farnam.”

  “You don’t know my father, Miss Starbuck. He can be very emphatic. Lately he’s lost patience. Now he’s beginning to hint that if I don’t do what he wants me to, he’ll use his connections in Washington to hinder my army career.”

  “Would he do that to his own son?”

  “Yes. I’m sure he would. I know my father that well.”

  “Well.” Jessie sat silently after the one thoughtful word, then she said, “I can understand your nervous strain now, Lieutenant Farnam. I accept your apology. Suppose we forget that the little incident ever happened and start over, as friends. And to begin with, you might try calling me Jessie.”

  “You’re really serious, aren’t you?” Farnam asked, his voice much lighter. “Thank you, Miss ... Jessie. My name’s Joseph, but my friends call me Joe, as you might expect.”

  “We’re in agreement, then, Joe.” Jessie raised her glass, which was still half full. “To friendship.”

  “To friendship,” Farnam repeated. After they’d sipped their brandy, he said, “I’m not completely naive, Jessie. You must have had a reason for stopping here, and I have an idea you came to talk about the rustlers that stripped the Box Branch.”

  Jessie decided it was time to come to the point. “Yes. Brad Close stopped by my ranch several days ago. He was returning from the fort, and he told me about the new army regulations that bar you from helping ranchers—or any other civilians, I suppose—unless there’s a war or an invasion.”

  “I didn’t make the regulations, Jessie, and I’m not in sympathy with them myself. I don’t have any choice but to obey them, though.”

  “Oh, I understand that. But as far as the ranchers along the border are concerned, there’s really no difference between rustlers and the Mexican army crossing the Rio Grande. We think one is as much of an invasion as the other.”

  “Unfortunately, Washington doesn’t take that attitude.”

  “Washington’s attitudes can be changed, Joe,” Jessie told him somewhat brusquely. “The Starbuck name has a good deal of influence there.”

  Farnam did not reply at once. Finally he said, “How would you go about changing those regulations, Jessie?”

  “Joe,” Jessie said quietly, “Starbuck enterprises cover a great deal of territory. We contribute quite generously to the campaign funds of senators and congressmen from more than twenty of the thirty-eight states. Need I say more than that?”

  Farnam shook his head. “No. I didn’t realize that your family interests were so widespread. I’m sure you can do what you say. But you must have had something in mind that’s brought you here, Jessie. This isn’t just a casual visit. What is it that you want me to do to help you?”

  Jessie and Ki had discussed several specific items on their trip from the Circle Star. Now Jessie said, “I’m sure there aren’t too many places along this stretch of the Rio Grande where cattle can be herded across easily. You must know where they are. I hope you’ll give me the details I need to use when we begin putting pressure on the army through Congress.”

  After a moment’s thought, Farnam told Jessie, “I only know of two places in the Fort Chaplin area where it would be easy to get a cattle herd across the river. At least those are the only two spots my scouts have pointed out to me. If I show them to you on a map—”

  “No,” Jessie interrupted. “I need to know more about those places than I can learn from looking at a map, Joe. Do you have enough men to spare so that you could assign one of them to ride with Ki and me, so that we can actually see these places you’re talking about?”

  “I’ll do better than that,” Farnam said promptly. “I need to get out of this place for a few days, and Lieutenant Mitchell, my second-in-command, is due back from patrol tomorrow. How would it be if I guided you myself?”

  Jessie’s acceptance was as prompt as Farnam’s offer. “I’d like it very much, Joe.” She frowned and went on, “You said a few days. How far is it?”

  “Both of the fords lie south of the fort. The nearest is a bit more than a half-day’s ride. The other’s a good twenty miles beyond the first. Your Texas distances are incredible, Jessie.”

  “They are until you get used to them,” she smiled. “But this is important enough to me to spend that much time on. You said your second lieutenants are due back soon. Must you wait until they get here, or can we start early in the morning?”

  “I don’t see why I should wait for Mitchell to show up,” Farnam said. “My first sergeant, Henderson, is perfectly capable of keeping the routine going for the short time that the fort would be without a commissioned officer in command. It’d only be for a few hours at most, until Mitchell gets back.” Farnam hesitated and added, “There’s one thing I should tell you, though. Regulations again, as you might suppose. Standing orders say that military personnel must not go into Mexico, even if we’re in pursuit of hostiles.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to disobey army orders, Joe. If you’ll just take Ki and me to the fords, we’ll do any investigating that’s necessary on the Mexican side of the river.”

  “This is something I simply can’t believe,” Farnam said, his puzzlement plain in his tone. “For some reason, this ford isn’t marked on my map. It isn’t on the master map at the fort, either, or I’d remember it.”

  “Your mapmaker is careless,” Ki suggested. “This ford has been used many times, Lieutenant, and not long ago. There are fresh cattle tracks and the tracks of the riders driving them on the opposite bank as well as on this one.”

  “I don’t question that, Ki,” Farnam said. “Little as I know about tracking, I can tell the difference between the tracks of steers and those of shod horses.”

  Farnam, Ki, and Jessie were sitting their horses beside the Rio Grande; the legs of Ki’s horse were still dripping from his exploration of the unmapped crossing they’d discovered. All three of them sat in silence for a moment as they gazed at the surface of the river, darkening now as the steep cliffs on the opposite bank began to shade the water, from the afternoon sun.

  When the long day had started at Fort Chaplin, the trio had ridden in the silence common to either good companions or to strangers traveling together for the first time. As the morning wore on, they’d lost the stiffness that had marked the beginning of their journey. During their noon stop to eat the sandwiches prepared by the fort’s mess sergeant, Jessie and Farnam had chatted almost as friends, whi
le Ki maintained his role as Jessie’s servant and kept discreetly silent.

  As the afternoon progressed, Jessie had become aware that the lieutenant was glancing at her more and more often, but she’d managed to avert her eyes in time to keep him from noticing that she’d been covertly looking at him, as well.

  There’ll be time later, she’d told herself. Though if I do decide, I’ll have to find a way to signal Ki without Joe noticing. And Ki will understand, of course. Ki always understands.

  It had been Ki’s sharp eyes that had noticed the faint tracks in the baked earth, leading them to the crossing at which they were now looking. At first, Farnam had insisted that the tracks led to the first ford across the Rio Grande, the crossing some twenty miles from the fort, which they’d already passed after finding no evidence that it had been used by cattle lately.

  But Ki had persisted in urging that the tracks be followed, in spite of the military map Farnam carried, which showed impassable, broken country stretching two miles or more from the riverbank, and showed also that through that stretch of rough terrain the Rio Grande flowed through a gorge where high banks made fording the stream out of the question. Jessie, knowing Ki’s skill at reading trail signs, joined Ki in wanting to discover where the cattle tracks led.

  Farnam at last agreed, and the trail Ki followed had brought them to the mouth of one of a score or more of narrow arroyos, all looking alike. For almost two miles the narrow slit in the sunbaked earth through which they rode led them on a tortuous, zigzag course. There were cattle droppings in the sandy soil on the floor of the steep-walled arroyo, but even Ki’s practiced eyes could not reveal the age of the cow dung.

  Then, suddenly, the metal-hard caliche soil on which the hooves of their horses had grated gave way to earth that was still the light yellow of the baked caliche, but softer underfoot. Here the cattle tracks showed plainly, and after another half-mile the steep sides of the arroyo widened into a respectably broad valley that stretched at its widest perhaps a quarter-mile from one steep wall to the equally steep wall on its opposite side. They reined in at the point where the arroyo widened.