by Darrel Bird
yourself.”
When Blake walked into the bunk house, Skinner was propped up on his bunk, his face a mass of bruises. He tried to smile, but failed.
“Who done this to you boy?” Blake asked gently.
“Carson’s men done it boss, he can’t talk now, his mouth is too swoll up. He said he got in a few good licks, but there was four of’em. Boss, I’m going to get me some hide for what they done!” Stucky’s face was dark as he talked. “Them polecats done started a war with me!”
“Stucky, I know you got feelin’ for the boy, but anger will only cause us to make mistakes. That’s what Carson wants is for us to roar in there so he can shoot us up.”
Stucky pulled his old hat off, and stomped it on the floor, “But damn it boss, look at him!”
“I see him Stucky.”
Skinner motioned for Stucky to come close, “Lishen to Blake.” He lisped.
Calvin was wiping at the tears, “Stay with Skinner Stucky, get a bucket of cool water to bathe his face. Calvin, get a fire going under your stew pot, I’m going to town and see if I can hire more help.”
“Boss, don’t go to Winslow, I fear for your life if you do.” Stucky said.
“I’ll be alright. You just do as I say.” He withdrew his revolver, checked the loads, then checked the loads in his rifle, and walked to his horse.
Calvin stood looking after him as he rode away. He looked up at the evening sky as the sun poked red spears through the clouds.
When Blake had gone no more than an hour, he saw a horseman riding up the valley. When the person got nearer, he saw it was a girl. She brought her lathered horse to a halt in front of the house and got down. She was a rather pretty girl of about twenty years old, and she had on men’s pants, and riding boots.
“I came to see Blake Rendell, my father sent me.”
“You missed him by an hour, I’m Calvin Rendell, what do you want?”
“My father said he would pay ten thousand dollars for your ranch. The moneys in the bank of Winslow.”
“Ma’am, Blake won’t sell at any price. Neither will I, after your men beat a man nearly to death and done up and kilt our folk.”
“I had nothing to do with what our men do, is this ranch worth dying for sir? Isn’t it better to take the money, and live?”
“Oh, it ain’t what the ranch is worth; it’s the principle of the thing. You’re father done killed my folks, and justice has to be done. Blake will have it no other way, nor neither will I. I’m sorry to tell you, but you are in for it. Your father can’t run far enough or fast enough to get away with what he has already done.”
“My father run? You can’t be serious!” She sneered.
“Serious as a sore tooth ma’am. For your sake I’m sorry it’s come to this.”
She re-mounted her horse, looked at Calvin, and turned her lip up in another sneer, but this time Calvin thought he saw fear in her eyes, fear of justice.
Blake rode into Winslow, and saw a light still on in the saloon, a few late evening drinkers off the range he supposed. He walked into the saloon, and there were three cowboys at the bar, and an Indian with a red blanket over his shoulders slumped over a table in the back of the house.
The big Mexican spurs clinked as Blake carried his six foot frame over the wood floor. The cowboys turned to look at Blake in the dim light of kerosene lanterns.
“I’m looking for men willing to fight. I’ll pay three hundred dollars a man.”
The three cowboys turned to study their drinks, “That’s nearly a years pay mister, who you aiming on fighting?” One of the men asked.
“Carson killed my family, and he aim’s to have my ranch, I aim to stop him.”
“Not me, they will kill you for sure mister.”
“Me either.” Said another one.
“I’ll fight.” The Indian stood up and threw off the blanket. Blake saw that the man had on a low tied holster.
“Reckon I’ll just ride along with the Indian, and see how this plays out.” The older of the cowboys said, and laid a dollar on the bar.
“But you work for Carson lumpy!” One of the men said.
“I just quit. There is a line a man don’t cross. I ride for the brand, but since I quit, I reckon a job with the rocking chair is open, and I just took it. The pay is thirty, and found though, if’en I was going to rob somebody; I’d rob the bank up the street. What about you Indian, you aiming on robbing this gent?”
“Thirty, and found plus a good horse, Carson shot my horse when he shot my wife and son.”
“There’s a good horse out back in my corral Indian, saddle is by the back door, when you come back this way, feed him some oats, and water him.” Old Mose said.
The Indian looked at the old bartender, “You good man Mose.” The Indian scooped up the saddle and went through the back door. In fifteen minutes they were on the way to the ranch.
“What be your name Indian?” Lumpy asked.
“Red Deer.”
“Why did Carson shoot your wife and kid?”
“I had twenty five acres and a cabin up by twin Mesa. I was in his way.”
“Lawdy me that man is a killer.”
“He probably don’t think that in his own mind. He thinks his word is law. Lets push it boys.” Blake said as he pushed his horse faster toward the ranch. He was uneasy about leaving the ranch so open.
About two O’clock in the morning they rode within a hundred yards of the ranch house, Blake stopped his horse, and called out, “Don’t shoot now Calvin, its me!”
“I hear you Blake, ride on in!” Calvin called back.
As the men rode up to the house they were met by both Calvin, and Stucky, “You boys get down, and throw your saddles on the porch. Stucky will feed and water your horses. I got hot grub in the pot.”
As the men ate Blake addressed the group, “I’d like to tell you men there’s not much to worry about, but Carson and his men are going to hit this place full force. You men get some sleep, and don’t worry about getting up early, I think he will hit us about day break tomorrow. How many fighting men do you think he has Lumpy?”
“Now that I’m gone, about ten all told I reckon.”
“How are we going to fight that many men boss?” Stucky asked.
“We fight smart, I seen two men do some real damage to more than twenty in the war. They have to come up the valley, and we’ll get them in a cross fire when they do. Get some sleep boys.”
The men whiled away the day, each taking turn on watch. At supper Blake spoke to them, “Carson’s outfit will have to come at us up the valley more than likely as there is not enough cover for them to approach from the high country. They will try to use the trees along the creek for cover until they get to the edge of the clearing. I think they will hit us about daybreak in the morning, but we’ll have to keep watch tonight just the same. Everyone needs to be awake by three in the morning.”
“What if they hit us while its still dark?” Lumpy asked.
“It’s a possibility, but they can’t see to shoot in the dark no more than we, so I doubt it. About three in the morning, you Lumpy, and Red Deer wade the creek real quiet, and get set up over there. Just don’t shoot until you have a clear bead on them, and for heaven’s sake, don’t shoot toward the house. Calvin and Stumpy will be stationed in the house and bunk house. Skinner, you’ll be stationed in the rocks back of the house. I’m going to climb into the barn loft with my long rifle. Everybody got the picture? We don’t want to bunch up so they can pin us down.”
The men shook their heads, “Skinner, you’ll take first watch. Ok boys there’s hell to pay, but I’ve never fought with a group of better men. Go stake out your fighting positions so you can find them in the dark, come daylight, we’ll be waiting.”
The men were somber as they each went about preparations. At dawn the men were in position. Blake positioned himself in the barn loft. He would fire from there, and when the battle heated up, he would jump down, and fight from inside the barn.
Carson and his men came storming out of the low fog along the river just as day was breaking, and the men laid down a withering crossfire. In less than ten minutes most of Carson’s men were down, but Carson kept coming until he jumped off his horse behind a wagon that sat in the barn yard.
Blake called from the barn, “Give it up Carson, there’s no need for more men to die here!”
“To hell with you Blake, I’ll have you dead this day!”
Blake looked out at the men lying on the ground, and an anger he could not hold overtook him. It was the years of war. He walked out of the barn toward Carson as he chambered another round in the rifle; he fired, and then reached for his pistol.
Carson’s hate overtook him, and he stepped out. He fired and missed in his rage. Blake fired his pistol once, and the bullet went through Carson’s heart, and then Carson was on the ground. Blake walked up to him and eared the hammer back on the pistol, but he saw that Carson was dead.
He was relieved to see his brother walk through the front door of the house.
“How many hurt?” He called.
“Red Deer took a bullet in the leg, two of Carson’s men hightailed it, and I think the rest are dead. Want me to check them Blake?”
“No, get Red Deer to the doc in Winslow, I’ll see if there are any of them alive.”
“Lumpy, could you ride over to the Carson ranch and notify his daughter her father is dead?”
“You think they will shoot me?” Lumpy asked.
“I don’t think so Lumpy, but put a white flag on a stick before you go in.”
The next morning Carson’s daughter rode into the ranch yard with a field hand, and a wagon. Blake walked out to greet her.
“I’ve come to collect my fathers body Blake.”
“He’s laying over there by the wagon where he fell. I’m sorry about your father. I tried to talk to him.”
“I’m going to sell all our excess cattle. My father was wrong, and there will be no need for additional grazing land.”
“What about my twenty five acres and the calves he stole?” Red Deer asked.
“You won’t have any more trouble, I’ll see to that. I truly am sorry for all this. I’ll give you more calves, and all you need to do is return to your land, or I'll trade you two hundred acres out on the rim, that way you won't be stuck in the middle of our grazing range.”
“I'll take the trade.”
“Good, I'll hire the surveyor in town to go out and lay the stakes.”
After she was gone Blake looked at Calvin, “You might want to pay her a visit since she is about your age, and she seems to be a good person.”
“Maybe I will.”
“You just do that.”
Blake rode the high country in back of the ranch, and then turned his horse to look out over the valley below. Peace had once again taken its rightful place in Winslow, and he hoped the years would heal the wounds of the Civil war. The war had about sucked the life out of him, but he had hopes for the young people such as his brother, and Carson’s daughter. It would be those kinds of people who would rebuild the country.
The end