by Danni Roan
“So what’s on for today Pa?” Lexi asked looking along the table.
“We all have plenty to do today. Grandpa Iss, Will and Hank will work on the house and some of us will head out to check on the cattle.” His eyes turned toward his newest hire. “Clayton you come on out with me and I’ll show you around.”
“Can I come along Pa?” Mae’s voice caught Clayton by surprise. “I’ve hardly been out at all this spring with the way the weather keeps changing. I’d love to really be able to take Callie out and stretch her legs.”
Joshua James smiled at his youngest daughter, a soft light shining in his clear arctic eyes. “I think that’d be just fine.” He replied “And how about you, young man?” He turned toward Eric looking directly at the little boy.
“Can I Pa, please?” The small tow-headed boy pleaded with big blue eyes, watching as Hank looked toward Fiona who nodded.
“I reckon if your grandpa thinks it’s alright, but you mind what he says and keep that mule of yours out of trouble.”
“I will,” the boy, called back enthusiastically, hugging his massive father with his small arms, then turning to kiss his new mother on the cheek and jumping off the bench.
“We’ll be back in for lunch.” Joshua added looking at Fiona.
With a chuckle the other men pushed themselves from the table and began preparing to leave.
Clayton donned his black Stetson, grabbed his jacket and fell into step behind the excited boy as he made his way to the front door. “I guess we’re gonna be partners today.” The handsome cowboy said a bright smile breaking across his face.
“Yep.” The boy said pulling the heavy door open with effort. “I guess I’d better get Scooter ready.”
Clayton almost stepped on the boy’s heels as he came to a sudden stop on the front porch, shaking his head. The little mule stood just below the front steps itching his backside on the hitching rail. At the sound of boots on the plank floor he turned his long white gray face to look over his shoulder at them. Then with a snort turned all the way around and trotted up to the front step.
Clayton left out a loud laugh as the boy still shaking his head, stepped across the porch and took the mules halter in his small hand. The mule lowered his skinny neck and nuzzled the boy’s white blonde hair affectionately.
“I tol’ ya didn’t I.” the boy said, still shaking his head. “He don’t like to be kept in.”
Clayton still laughing looked around the large ranch yard figuring the leggy yearling would be nearby. He spotted him standing at the corral next to a fat, dark bay mare who must have been his mother.
“Come on Scooter.” The boy was saying to his mule as he walked toward the barn. “We have work to do for Grandpa today.”
Clayton turned toward the colt and hoped he’d let him take hold of his halter, he didn’t want to get a rope if he didn’t have to.
Fortunately, the colt was willing to head back into the barn with the mule and didn’t need any catching at all.
Clayton pulled the big barn doors wide and listened to the welcoming whinny of his black horse. “You ready to work Duke?” He called the big horse, as he picked up his tack and headed to the stall.
“Fine, looking horse you got there.” A voice called from the entrance to the barn, as Walters walked in, battered brown hat sitting on his bald head.
Clayton smiled giving the animal a pat before backing him out of the stall. He looked toward the center of the barn where the small boy Eric was struggling to lift a saddle onto the mules back. Taking a step toward him, he caught a glimpse of Walters shaking his head.
“He’ll ask if he wants help.” The older man whispered. Then walked back out carrying a rope and headed for the corral. A few minutes later he led a pretty calico pony to the hitching rail outside and began running a brush over its still thick winter coat. It was a pretty animal, white and tan with a black and white mane and tail. By the size he had to judge this was Mae’s horse.
“Looks like there’s plenty of good stock on this ranch.” Clayton commented in passing, still watching as Eric finally got the saddle in place and began buckling straps. “Well mostly anyway.” He added with a significant look at the scrawny mule.
Walters chuckled softly as he began tacking up the pony. Then did the same to a big buckskin gelding he’d brought out of the corral.
“Mr. Allen.” Eric called from just inside the barn. “Can you check my girth? Pa says I don’t get ‘em tight enough.”
Dropping the reins of his black horse, Clayton turned to the boy and checked the cinches on the saddle, they were in fact not tight enough but the boy had done his best, the mule all the while standing patiently, waiting and toying with his reins. Clayton offered Eric a leg up and then once he was mounted turned back toward the doors. Mae and Josh were just coming out of the ranch house both bundled in warm clothing for the crisp morning. Clayton wished he’d grabbed his warmer coat but if the sun warmed things up he’d be fine and they’d only be out until about noon.
Seeing that everyone was ready Joshua swung up onto the stocky buckskin. “Walt, you and Steve going out to the west today?” He asked looking at the slim wrangler.
“Yeah, we’ll head that way, but don’t expect us for lunch. Chen Lou said he’d fix us something to take along and as we come up on the horses, we’ll start movin’ them this way.” No need to have ‘em spread out all over the place.”
“Alright, we’ll just meander around to the south and see what we see. I sure hope we don’t have any more surprise blizzards this spring. We got off easy but a lot of good people were lost this winter with that late one that blew up in January.” With that the big man turned his horse toward the far gate of the ranch and started out.
The land rolled out around Clayton as they rode. Mae trotted along beside Eric at the back while Joshua led the way. New grass was just starting to push through the dry brittle growth of the previous year and a cold breeze blew down from the far away mountains.
They crossed a small stream on the outskirts of the ranch proper and moved along toward the trees on the distant slopes. In the distance, he could see small groups of cattle moving across the prairie grass, many still in the lower valleys where they’d wintered. For the most part they seemed to have fared well despite what he had heard could be harsh winters in this area.
“This winter was milder than the last few we’ve had.” Joshua said as he watched the cattle grazing slowly through the thick thatch on the prairie floor. “We had a big blizzard in ’86 and then another in ’87. The Broken J fared better than most of us here in Wyoming but we still lost a good number of cows. We try to keep them down out of the hills in the winter but come spring they start drifting again.”
They rode on a bit further before Joshua spoke again. “You have any experience with barbed wire son?” The older man asked, his keen eyes still scanning small pockets of trees for any signs of cows or calves. “I’m starting to think it might be an option.” Cattle isn’t king like it used to be here and with the way things are shaping up I think we’ll be a state before long. Governor Moonlight has already indicated it’s needed and started proceedings despite the fact that there aren’t as many people in Wyoming as Congress would like. More people are arriving everyday via rail and it won’t be long before we get that state hood.”
“Their starting to use barbed wire down in Texas now.” Clayton offered.
Pulling his chunky buckskin to a stop the cattleman leaned on his saddle horn and gazed out across the prairie. “When we came here in ’68 stopping on our way to Oregon we were just farmers. We made enough to support ourselves but there was no town close enough to sell goods to and only Fort Laramie for supplies. The land was perfect for cattle though and a few years later we went to get the cows. None of us men are getting any younger now and I think fencing might make things a little easier to manage.”
He cast a glance over his shoulder to where Mae and Eric had dismounted and were studying something in the grass. “Th
is land is just right for wheat though and I’d like to diversify further. If we do this right this ranch should still be making a good living for my great-great-great-great grandchildren.”
Clayton looking around him at the wide-open spaces of the Wyoming prairie. It was prime grassland and he could see how Joshua and the other men had been able to build the ranch to the prosperous endeavor it was today.
It was nothing like his native Florida with its semi-tropical climate and almost jungle like under growth but with careful planning and an eye for diversifying the place could continue for many years to come. He watched the big man as he surveyed his land and his respect for him went up a notch for his forethought and planning for the future.
Hot bile rose in his throat as he thought of how his father had squandered his own inheritance and automatically his fingers dropped to his vest pocket.
“Sounds like you’ve got plans Mr. James.” He offered schooling his voice to calmness. “I hope I might be around a while to see what becomes of them sir.”
Joshua chuckled. “I think I’d like that son.” He said with a kind smile. “What about you Clayton? What are your plans for the future?”
Clayton ran a hand along the back of his neck, pushing thick dark hair off his collar and gazed across the bright prairie floor as his right index finger stroked the coin in his pocket.
“I suppose I’d like to have a place of my own someday. Something that when the time’s right I can hand down to my children.” His bright eyes and even featured darkened as if a shadow had passed over them. “It might take a bit of time but somewhere along the way I’ll be able to start a place and hopefully make it something that will last.” He ended with a half grin.
“Sounds like a good plan.” Joshua agreed. “Just remember sometimes what we have in mind and what actually happens isn’t the same. It’s learning to adapt and go along with those changes that make us better people. I hope the Broken J can help you along the way.” He smiled cheerfully at the young man. “Now let’s head back and see what’s for lunch.”
Reining their horses back toward home they fell in with Mae and Eric who had remounted and were jogging their mounts along the path.
“Sure is a pretty place isn’t it Mr. Allen?” Eric asked as the cowboy pulled The Duke up alongside the boy’s little mule. “We got all this land and lots of cows too.” The boy’s eyes sparkled with delight. “I haven’t been out much to see it but someday I’ll be allowed to ride all over like the other cowboys.”
Clayton chuckled at the enthusiasm of childhood. He wondered if he’d ever been that way. Probably. Now he just hoped he’d be able to build up enough cash to add to what he had and buy a place of his own.
For months he’d tried to wrest his home away from the man who’d swindled his father but by the time he had a sufficient understanding of the laws involved the man had broken up the ranch and surrounding land selling it off to farmers and others who wished to settle in the warmer climate of the far south. Anger boiled inside him as he remembered but with a sigh he pushed it away and concentrated on the trail.
Chapter 8
Throughout the rest of the week Clayton settled into an easy routine learning his way around the range while working with the other men. It was still early in the year, but he kept tabs on the number of new calves born to the ranch and reported where he’d seen the cattle in large numbers as they’d spread out across the range over the winter months. He rode The Duke every day despite the offer of other mounts, letting the big black horse become familiar with the spread.
For the most part the weather held clear and crisp but not too cold with a warm sun taking the major chill off in the afternoon. It was a mild March and was looking good for the herd and the men.
His battle of wits continued with the pretty Meg who for some reason was determined to find a way to get his goat but he made sure he gave as good as he got and began enjoying the game. The girl was too haughty by far and needed to be brought down a peg or two in his opinion and to his thinking he was just the man to do it.
Mr. James was planning an early round up this spring and wanted to simply drive the excess stock into the town of Casper and the railhead there. Cattle prices had taken a dip in the past two years and he was content to make what profit he could while letting the herd grow.
It was nearing the weekend and he was on his way back from the foothills, lazily driving a small group of cows and calves down onto the lower flat lands where they’d be easy to collect when he heard a sound that could turn a man’s blood to ice.
In the far distance toward the stream that babbled along near the ranch house the sound of a mountain lion’s scream sent a shiver down his spine. It was a sound he’d become familiar with in the wilds of Florida and the high piercing yowl, like a woman’s wail pierced him to the soul. Hoping to spot the big cat and at least scare it off he kicked Duke into a gallop and headed toward the sound.
As he rounded a clump of trees his heart stuttered in his chest at the sight before him and he pushed his horse for more speed.
Eric had been lazily traversing the stream near the ranch, he was only a few dozen yards from the fenced property and the coolness of the dark cotton woods looked inviting. A soft breeze teased at his back as his little mule moved softly along the damp embankment. The sound of screaming, a high piercing cry was the only warning he had as the big tawny cat dropped from the branches above knocking him from the saddle with its weight.
The boy hit the ground with a thud that knocked the wind out of him, he couldn’t even cry for help as he tried to roll away from his attacker.
As suddenly as the animal had pounced, it leaped off of him again, bellowing in pain and rage. Eric desperately tried to get his breath back as he watched in horror as his little mule raised himself up and landed with all four feet on the tawny cat’s back, his long ears pinned back along his neck and yellow teeth bared in a fierce grimace as they bore down on the predator’s neck. The sounds coming from the little gray mule were like something out of a nightmare and as the wind finally rushed back into Eric’s lungs he curled himself into a ball watching in horror as the little mule stomped the life out of the massive cat.
The sound of a pistol shot echoing across the streambed brought both mule and boy to a stop. The body of the long tawny cat lay limp and lifeless half in the stream, the mule's sharp front hooves firmly planted on its shattered rib cage.
Clayton was out of the saddle while the big black stallion was still sliding to a stop. Hitting his knees, he gathered the young boy to him, looking him over and checking him for any serious injury. He was scraped and bruised and his shirt was ripped but the big cat had not gotten his teeth into the child.
“You alright?” The dark cowboy asked, struggling to keep his voice calm.
The boy nodded but turned to look at his mount, bright tears in his eyes. Now that the danger was passed the little creature's head drooped, wide slashes were evident across his narrow chest where the mountain cat had raked him with its claws, blood flecked his shoulders and knees and dripped from a gash just behind his ears.
The sound of thundering hooves behind them drew their attention as Joshua James drove his horse at breakneck speed toward the small group huddled around the dead cat.
The big man’s hands shook as he threw himself from the saddle and dashed toward his grandson. “Are you alright?” His anxious voice betrayed his dread.
“I’m okay Grandpa.” The boys voice quivered as he spoke. “But Scooter’s hurt.” He sobbed as he pointed toward the exhausted mule. Drawing the boy to him fiercely, he comforted him as best he could. “We’ll get him home and fixed up, son.” He said still holding the tike close. “What in the world were you doing out here?” the tall white haired man finally asked.
“I was just following the stream a little way.” The boy sniffed before continuing. “I can still see the barn and house so I didn’t go to far.” The boy’s high voice broke as tears began to spill down his face. Joshua dr
ew him close only to be nudged out of the way by a mealy mouth as the little mule not much more than twice the weight of the big cat that had attacked it, hobbled over and nuzzled the boy’s blonde head.
The cattleman reached a weathered hand toward the ugliest piece of horseflesh on his range, patted its neck gently and thanked the good Lord for the beast.
“Let’s get you home.” He said gently picking up the reins of his grandson’s unlikely savior and lifting the boy in his other arm. Turning toward his buckskin gelding, he cast over his shoulder; “That was fine shootin’ son.”
Clayton didn’t acknowledge the old man but walked toward where the dead cat lay half in the stream. Examining it he could see that the animals back was broken. He could also see a small bullet hole directly through its skull.
The sound of more horses approaching drew his attention back in the direction of the ranch. He could see Will in the lead on a thickset bay running to beat the band and behind him coming at an only slightly slower pace, Walt and Steve. Slowly he reached down and grasping the tawny corpse by the tail dragged the dead animal out of the creek bed. Someone could have the hide if they wanted it.
“Boss?” Walt's voice reached them first as Joshua lifted his grandson into the saddle of his own horse.
“I’ll explain it all on the way.” He replied calmly. “We’ll need to get that little fella back to Deeks…” he indicated with a tip of his head. “and this one back to his Pa and Ma.”
Will still sitting his saddle looked at the mule then down the creek to where Clayton stood beside the body and whistled.
The ride back to the ranch was slow as they let the tired and injured mule hobble slowly toward home. Joshua, tucked Eric up close to him and every now and then they’d hear a sniffle or see the boy run a rough sleeve across his nose.
Clayton fell back with the other riders all who seemed quite surprised by the situation they had discovered.