Jack cleared his throat. “I wanted to speak to someone about my herd. I didn’t drive two thousand cattle several hundred miles to fill out a slip.”
“We don’t take cows or heifers—”
“I have two thousand two- and three-year-old steers. Not a cow or heifer in the bunch,” Jack interrupted.
“Well, that would be a first for me.”
“If you find one cow with our road brand on it, I’ll pay you a hundred dollars.”
“My, my. You sound quite sure of yourself.”
“Driving cattle is my business. Are you interested in the herd?”
“I must say you have one of the first herds up here this year. I’ll have to see how the market is doing this morning.”
“Fine. But are you interested?”
“I’d be happy to take a look. Now, where is this herd located?”
“Six miles or so south and west of the trail.”
“And your name again, sir?”
“Captain Jack Starr.”
“Good to meet you, Captain Starr. I’ll be out there tomorrow.”
“Thank you, sir.” He left the tent and walked out into the brilliant Kansas sunshine. One more buyer would be enough. Then word would be out about his cattle, piquing interest and encouraging others to drive out for a look-see.
“Captain, oh, Captain!” It was Rose with her arms full of purchases, standing in the middle of the street. “How are your wonderful cowboys?”
He tipped his hat to her. “Doing fine, ma’am. We’ll have your other things up here in the early afternoon.”
“Why, Captain Starr, any old time you want to bring them by is fine. We’re working at the Beguine House. You can’t miss it. We’re in a tent right now, but the lumber is being shipped here. Come by and see us any time, Captain. Things are a little slow until the other herds get in here.”
He agreed and waved good-bye. A good stein of cold beer would hit the spot before he went back to the herd. He entered the Texas Saloon tent and noticed the place was nearly empty. The makeshift bar—planks on barrels—and a smiling barkeep welcomed him and he ordered a beer.
“You bring cattle up?” the red-faced man in the white apron asked.
“Yes. Reckon I’m the first herd up here.”
“Good. We all moved down here and figured we’d starve if some of you-all didn’t start coming.”
“Oh, I suspect there’s a lot of herds starting out by now.”
“We sure need the business.”
After draining the last drop of beer, he left the Texas Saloon and started for Gray. But he couldn’t miss the pair of hard-eyed hombres loafing around his horse. Both wore bull-hide chaps, vests and six-guns. One looked no older than Luke; the other, maybe near his own age, had a bad scar from a knife cut across his left cheek.
“Can I help you?” Jack asked, wondering what the interest was in the gray horse.
“This is my horse,” the older one said as the two men blocked Jack’s way. “How in the hell did you get him anyway?”
“You got proof he’s yours?”
“Mister, I don’t need proof he’s mine. I raised him from a colt.”
“I’m sorry, but a widow woman gave him to me in Austin.”
“That’s right—some damn rebel stole him from me.”
“The law says possession is nine-tenths of the law. You show me some convincing proof, we’ll talk.”
“I’ll show you—” The man jerked his six-gun out, but Jack’s smoked lead first.
He whirled on his feet to face the younger one and fired a second round as the older man folded, firing his six-gun into the dust. The gray broke loose and skidded sideways. The second man tried to raise his gun hand, but Jack shot him again. He fell facedown.
“Where’s the law?” Jack shouted as faces began to appear from tent flaps and building projects.
He bent over and discovered the older one had almost fifty dollars in greenbacks and stuffed the money back into his vest pocket. The sound of boot heels hitting the boardwalk told him someone was coming. A man caught Gray and led him back across the street.
Jack thanked him and nodded to the marshal with a sawed-off shotgun, a silver star pinned on his thin wool duster.
“What happened here?”
“These two men were blocking me from my horse. The older man claimed my horse was his. He went for his gun and I shot him. Then I turned and faced the second one’s Colt. I had no other choice but to shoot him too.”
“Sounds like self-defense to me.”
“It sure was. There’s money enough to bury them in his vest.”
“Who in the hell are they?” The lawman scratched behind his ear.
“I never saw them before.”
“Strange he’d accost you, isn’t it?”
“It sure wasn’t worth dying over.”
“You’re right as rain about that. My name’s Cord. Ervin Cord. I’m the law around here. Ride careful, stranger.”
“Captain Jack Starr, sir.”
“Couple of you boys tote these bodies down to the funeral home,” the marshal told the onlookers. “Gawdalmighty, there’s already been two men killed and I ain’t been on this job twenty-four hours.” Cord shook his head. “We can handle it from here, Captain.”
Jack nodded and went for Gray. What else was going to happen? Who were the two dead men? Maybe they’d find some identifying papers on them. Once in the saddle he shook his head over the matter and set Gray on a lope.
Who’d put those two up to that? Only time could tell him. He still found it odd. Maybe he’d find out before he left to go back to Texas. Either way it upset him. All he wanted to do was sell the steers and get going. But even if he managed to sell the steers quickly, he still had a big matter to resolve in Indian Territory: Cory’s killer.
Chapter 26
Back at camp Jack sent Shanks, Earl and Claude to town with the ladies’ things. Smiling, he gave each of the three men a five-dollar advance. “Don’t get head-busting drunk. We’ll need you, so get on back here.”
The threesome and two packhorses loaded with trunks and hatboxes rode out while the remaining fellows shouted catcalls and suggestions for what they should do once they reached town. Jack merely shook his head.
Later, while sipping coffee and sitting on a log that one of the cowboys had dragged near the chuck wagon and cooking ring, he told Ralph about the shooting incident he’d had in town.
When he finished, Ralph shot him a serious glance. “There may be more to that deal than meets the eye.”
“Only they ain’t alive to tell us.”
“Who wants you dead?”
“I’ve got a list an arm long.” Jack wondered if those two dead men came from his past. But there was nothing with which he could tie them to his years in uniform. He’d probably never know.
What kind of damn fools were they? It was almost like they were committing suicide. The notion stayed with him all day.
Meanwhile Jangles wanted to resettle their camp elsewhere. The cattle had mown all the grass nearby.
“Better give it two more days,” Jack told him. “I want the buyers to find us.”
“We can make it that long,” Jangles said, and squatted down beside the log. “But not much longer.”
“This is good grass country,” Jack said to the ranger.
“I’ve been thinking the same thing. They say east of here over in the hills it’s even better.”
“Maybe we should take a look-see. What makes me curious is the way folks are drifting into Kansas and taking up homesteads. I sure wouldn’t want to be alone on the empty prairie like that.”
“I talked to a couple guys passing through. They say them hills ain’t much good for a plow and no one’s stopping over there. But there’s head-high bluestem grass for grazing. Might be a good place to raise cattle.”
“It might work.”
They were quiet for a moment before Jangles asked, “How did it go in town?”
&nbs
p; “Alright. Two guys claimed that Gray was theirs and ended up with their boot toes pointing up at the sky.”
Jangles blinked at him. “Who were they?”
“Damned if I know. Fools, is all I can say.”
“You better take some rangers along next time.”
“Good idea,” Jack said. He was tired of talking about the incident, which more than disturbed him, so he said his good nights and turned into his bedroll early.
The following day the first buyer, Larry Sorrel, arrived in a surrey-covered buggy. Estefan gave him a gentle horse to ride, saddling the red cow pony with Sorrel’s own saddle.
“By golly, Starr, you have good help.”
“It’s a far piece up here from the hill country. No use in hauling worthless folks along on a cattle drive.”
“I believe that.”
Jack clapped him on the back. “Let’s go see those longhorns.”
They rode together through the grazing herd. Many of the cattle were lying down, chewing their cud. Sorrel, like all cattle buyers, had an eye for detail. As he rode through the herd he obviously noticed lots of things and commented to Jack about a funny set of horns or the color pattern on a steer’s hide, simply making conversation. He also avoided a snorty steer or two.
When they had seen all of them, Sorrel nodded. “Good cattle.”
“We culled them at home. Made some folks mad, but no sense in bringing culls this far.”
“You know the market’s around eight cents a pound?”
“Last fall it was ten cents.”
“That was then. Things aren’t quite as good these days. What do you think?” Sorrel asked.
“I ain’t selling them to the first man that comes along. Hell, as good as they are, someone may offer me twelve cents a pound for them.”
“Oh, you might get more than that, but that’s the best I can offer. Eight cents.”
“Sorrel, thanks for coming, but I’m gonna have to pass. Ralph will have dinner ready soon; you’re welcome to stay over for it.”
“No, thanks, I’ve got business.”
“Appreciate your coming out.”
“No problem. But just remember, Starr—they may offer you less.”
“We’ll see. They’re straight steers and there are few to no culls. That’s gotta be worth something.”
“I know, but the demand isn’t here right now. Trust me.”
Jack shook the man’s hand and saw him off. Cattle buyers always had excuses. He’d see what he’d get from the other buyers and act accordingly.
Charles Manning showed up a few hours later. He drank some of Ralph’s springwater before he and Jack made a swing through the cattle.
“You weren’t lying,” Manning said. “I don’t believe there’s a head of female stock in your herd. Good, big, uniform steers. But I have to tell you, I need to wire an outfit in Illinois, so I’m not making any bids until I do that.”
“Whatever suits you,” Jack said. “You’re welcome to stay for supper.”
“Naw, I need to get back to Wichita.”
Manning went back to town and Jangles frowned at Jack. “They all this hard to deal with?”
“It’s a cat-and-mouse game.”
“They’ll get to stirring and more buyers will be by,” Jangles said confidently.
“Guess I ain’t patient enough.”
“You’re just anxious to get back home.”
“I guess I am. Lucy may have had the baby by now and I’m dying to see whether I’ve got me a little boy or girl.”
“When Shanks gets back tomorrow morning we can leave him in charge and ride over to see those grass hills,” Jangles suggested. “Might take your mind off the homesickness.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” Jack said.
Before sunrise, satisfied the boys could handle the herd, they ate a quick breakfast that Ralph had fixed for them, packed their bedrolls and short-loped across the prairie, waiting for the peach glow of dawn to blossom.
It was only a short while before they began to see the bluestem. The country was too rough to appeal to any farmer and his plow, but the area was well watered with creeks and springs, and fat whitetail deer were abundant. Plum thickets were in full bloom and sage hens crossed their path often in a burst of wings.
By noon they were convinced the country had been overlooked and would make powerful ranch land.
“You ever wonder how well cheap yearling cattle would do up here on this grass?” Jangles asked.
“I been thinking the same thing. We could assemble a herd of them cheap and bring them up and try it this fall.”
Jangles looked a little let down. “I bet it gets cold up here.”
“I don’t know. It’s still a ways south of the North Pole.” Jack shook his head. It wasn’t going to be like being on the gulf either.
“Maybe we ought to try it?” Jangles perked up.
“We can get the credit to buy the cattle,” Jack said, “and get us the supplies for a year. If the cattle do good we should make some money. Two of you rangers could also stay up here and watch after the cattle and we could go three ways on any profit.”
“I think Cotton would like to be in on the deal.”
“I’ll let you handle that. For myself, I’ve seen enough to make up my mind.”
Jangles stood in his stirrups and surveyed the waving brown grass, which was beginning to green up at the base. “I’d sure be proud to be your partner in this deal.”
They shook hands on it and headed back for camp. Clouds were piling up in the northwest and Jack grew concerned that the approaching storm might be a bad one. They pushed their ponies harder. No way they could beat the force sweeping across the rolling prairie toward their camp, but Jack hoped that Shanks, who should’ve returned to camp by now, had a plan to get everyone moving if they needed to.
Not stopping, they put on their slickers as they were riding. Soon large, cold raindrops began to beat on them, followed by sheets of hail. I should never have left the herd, Jack thought. It would be all his fault if anything serious happened. I was out looking at grass, dammit. Focusing on future projects when I should’ve been taking care of the current one.
Daylight had turned to night by the time they reached the chuck wagon. It was still an hour or more to sunset, despite the darkness. The storm threatened to tear Ralph’s fly off. Lightning cracked overhead like a bullwhip and rolled off across the Kansas prairie.
Jack dismounted, handed his reins to Jangles and ducked inside. Ralph, wearing a slicker, blinked at him through the raindrops.
“Where’s the herd?” Jack asked.
“Shanks moved them out before the storm. He had all the boys ready,” Ralph said above the roar of the rain.
“Good. We’ll tie up the horses and we can wait here. No sense wandering around in the dark, not knowing where we’re going.”
A flash illuminated the canvas tent. Ralph agreed and Jack went to help Jangles. Their horses hitched, they came inside. Jangles was glad to hear that the herd had moved on, but only time would tell what their losses would be.
The rain finally moved east and they went outside. Stars began to twinkle. But there wasn’t a sound of lowing cattle in the night. They could be several miles away, depending on how far they got beyond the storm. Hopefully there had been no stampedes. The steers were supposed to be gentler by now.
At dawn Cotton rode in and dropped heavily out of his saddle.
“How are we?” Jangles asked.
“Alright. Everyone with the herd’s accounted for. They’re heading them back this way. But we can’t find Estefan or the horses.”
“When did he head out?” Jack asked, worry lines creasing his forehead.
“He left when we did.”
“Jangles and I’ll go look for him. Ralph, Cotton’ll help you set up camp; we’re out of grass here anyway. We’ll see where Estefan ended up.”
“Sure,” Ralph said. “That guy’s half horse anyway, so I’m sure he’s fin
e.”
After grabbing some biscuits, the two left to locate the horse herd. Jack used his field glasses to try to catch sight of the remuda. Midday they found two dead horses with a D-T brand. No doubt the victims of a lightning bolt.
Jack dreaded the notion of finding more losses. There might be others injured and dead. Damn, where was that boy?
After loping for a few more miles he saw, through the lenses, the very thing he was looking for: horses descending a hill and Estefan leading the pack.
Chapter 27
When Jack finally found his horse herder, he was babbling to himself in Spanish about the storm. He’d lost his sombrero somewhere. His facial expression looked somewhere between vacant and upset.
“How are your horses?” Jack asked, looking over the grazing cow ponies.
“I lose four of them, patrón.”
“Lucky we didn’t lose them all and you too.”
With a bright-toothed smile Estefan nodded. “Sí, I prayed a lot, señor.”
“Them boys could use some fresh horses. I believe they’re south of here. You did fine, Estefan. You’re a real good man.”
The youth seemed to gain his bearings now that he was among men again and began to whistle as he swung his coiled reata, beating it on his chaps. Soon they were off on a long trot.
Midday they found the main herd scattered and grazing. Shanks came to meet them.
“How many do you figure we lost?” Jack stood in his stirrups to stretch his muscles.
“Not more than ten. We’ve looked hard for strays and drop-offs. But our horses are about done in.”
“You guys did great. Better get fresh horses.”
Estefan came on a trot with two fresh mounts in tow. Shanks swung down and began undoing his latigoes. Either came and claimed the second gelding. Estefan rode off hard after some more mounts.
The chuck wagon was set up and several of the cowboys pitched in to help Ralph with dinner. Things were happening fast, but Jack was glad his crew knew what it took and no one shirked his part, whether it was making biscuit dough or frying sliced bacon.
North to the Salt Fork Page 19