Texas Blood Feud

by Dusty Richards

  “And do what? Become a dove? A thirty-year-old shady lady don’t make the big money. They work on hog ranches.”

  “You could find another man and marry him.”

  She slapped him hard on the butt. “And then I wouldn’t have you—part of the time.”

  He swung his leg over the horse and checked Jack. “You need anything?”

  She put her hand on his leg and walked beside the horse. “For you to come back to visit me.”

  “I will.”

  “Don’t stay away so long.”

  He nodded in the growing darkness and rode off into the night. He made a wide circle using the stars and his knowledge of the land to guide him. He wanted to be sure that everyone was asleep when he got home. There’d be lots to do in the morning—finish the branding. Check fence, check cattle, and turn back strays that wandered on the ranch, break some two-year-olds—his list was as long as his arm.

  A coyote called to the stars. Another answered as he crossed the ford on Bowles Creek. Jack stamped his hooves to splash the water; Chet stopped him mid-stream and let him take a drink. He should do something about Marla, but what? She never acted like she’d really leave Porter for him—it was more like their illicit affair was the excitement in her life and she wanted to leave it like that. Jack finished slurping, raised his head, and water drizzled from his muzzle. Chet booted him on.

  It was that time. He needed to start lining up the ranchers who wanted their cattle driven north with his herd. Nothing ever ended in his life; it just led to more complications. Times he felt trapped in his own small world like an animal dumped in a deep pit.

  When he rode in, the home place was dark, save for a light in the kitchen. His boots hit the ground and his sea legs bent at the knees. Gradually, he regained his strength and undid the latigos, stripping off the saddle and pads that released the sour smell of horse sweat. Saddle on the rack, he led Jack into the corral and pulled off the bridle. The big horse went ten feet and dropped on his knees to roll.

  Chet stopped and watched him wallow on his itching back in the dust. Grunting, Jack rose and shook dirt like water in all directions.

  “Louise understands,” Susie said in a soft voice.

  He turned from holding the top rail and saw his sister’s silhouette in starlight. “You still up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hell, girl, you ought to be in bed.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. You know,” she said, taking a place beside him and looking at the dark forms of the horses roused from their slumber by Jack’s return to the pen. “All Louise really has are those two boys. I think she’s afraid they’ll grow up too fast and leave her.”

  “Maybe I was wrong taking them, but they’ve got to know the truth. Life ain’t easy.”

  She nodded. “They’re your men all right.”

  “At times this job about drowns me and I want to go off and be someone’s drag rider.”

  She shook her head in despair. “I agree. Mom and Dad are no better. You know how that drags on me. May tries to help, but she’s overwhelmed by the baby and little Rachel. And Louise lives in her own world.”

  “I’ll hire you some help.”

  “Can we afford it?”

  He nodded. “You have anyone in mind?”

  “Maybe a couple Mexican girls.”

  “Hire them.”

  “Louise will be upset.”

  He looked over and blinked at her. “Why?”

  “She said we don’t need any putas around here corrupting our men.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud.”

  “It’s been seven years, I know, she should be over mourning him. She’s not.”

  He slapped the top rail with his palm. “It’s a crutch she beats us all over the head with. You hire them or I will.”

  “I will. Thanks, Chet.”

  “Get back up there to bed.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll sleep a few hours.”

  “Good night.” Susie departed, holding her skirts, and left him in the starlight.

  He went to his own room in the bunkhouse, thinking about Marla and wishing they were off somewhere in the Rocky Mountains by themselves. In bed, he imagined he could smell the pungent pines and feel her silky skin. The morning bell ringing rolled him out of the blankets. He splashed water on his face, brushed down his hair while looking in a fading mirror. Then he headed for the house in the cool air, knifing in his shirttail with his flat hand.

  “Chet?” Reg caught up with him on the porch. “How long before they find out what happened?”

  “A few days or a week. They may know already. We just don’t need to talk about it.”

  “I savvy that. I wanted to go see Molly Ash this Saturday at the schoolhouse dance.”

  “Should be no problem. Go with someone you trust and pack a gun even if it’s in your saddlebags.”

  “I understand.”

  The crew was coming into the kitchen after they washed up. Chet could smell ham cooking and fresh-baked sourdough bread. He went inside and nodded to his brother, already seated. Reg, J.D., and Heck piled in; then their father made his way in with a cane. The younger boys took their place and Susie asked Chet to give the prayer.

  “Dear Lord, thank you for our many blessings and safe return. Thank you for this wonderful food. Guide and protect us, Lord. In your name, amen.”

  May poured coffee all around and Susie served the platters of eggs and ham. Bowls of butter and plum jelly were out. A small crock of “lick” was on the table for sweetening and the hot bread.

  Chet ate light—an egg and then a small piece of ham. He excused himself, then took his coffee and went back in the kitchen where Susie, May, and Louise were eating at a preparation table.

  “You out of coffee?” May asked, ready to jump up.

  He held out his hand to stop her, and went over to the large pot and refilled his own tin cup. Then he came back, put a boot on a chair, and blew on the steaming contents while looking at the three.

  “We’re hiring two girls to help you ladies.”

  “What for?” Louise demanded.

  “We have two babies to look after.” He glanced around to insure privacy. “The folks are a handful enough for one person. We need two girls to help straighten the house, make meals—”

  “You have some Mexican darling to move in on us?”

  “Louise, you aren’t the only one here. I won’t pick them. I told Susie to. You can be civil to them. They won’t be slaves like you are used to. Now that’s settled.”

  “If you ever—ever take my boys on another one of your vigilante rides, I’ll kill you.”

  “Louise, you want the money to go home, I’ll settle with you.”

  “Sure settle with me. What do I have left? A portion of a ranch depreciated by the war to nothing. You want to settle with me because my husband got himself killed in that damn war and left me with the potato peelings.” She shook her head. “I am damn sure not taking your sorry settlement!”

  She threw down her fork and stormed off.

  He wanted to go drag her back by the arm and shake her until he loosened her teeth. It would do no good. Louise came from a better life on a Louisiana plantation. She was accustomed to slaves doing her bidding, not her being the scullery help. Her days on the ranch had never pleased her. Without Mark to complain to, she’d turned her wrath on the rest of them.

  “Chet?” Susie said quietly. “May and I can do it without help.”

  “Hell, no, she doesn’t run this ranch. Hire the help.”

  He stormed out into the dining room. “Saddle and get ready to ride. I want those last calves worked this morning and those oat field fences rode out and checked. Reg, get the irons, pine tar, and do we have fuel down there for a fire?”

  “There’s plenty down there,” Dale Allen said, cradling a coffee cup in his hands.

  “Good. Some of us want to go to the Saturday night dance at the schoolhouse. That means some of us will need
to stay here.” No one said a word when he paused for their answer. “I’ll figure out who goes and who stays later.”

  He put on his hat and went outside. He was still upset over his confrontation with Louise, and his breath raged through his nostrils. In the pale light, the cool air swept his cheeks and he scrubbed at the beard stubble with his palm. He still needed to shave.

  They better go as a crowd to the dance. No telling what would happen because of the deaths of the rustlers.

  Chapter 5

  By Saturday at noon, the women had loaded the food, utensils, cooking gear, bedrolls, and a tarp for a fly in the army ambulance that had been converted into a chuck wagon. The wooden barrels on each side of the wagon were full of fresh water. Hat cocked back on his head, Reg sat on the spring seat, the lines in his gloved hands, and he kicked off the brake. He clucked to the big team of black mares with feathered hocks, and they stomped out the gate in a high-stepping trot.

  On the buckboard sat Louise and Susie, who was driving the team of matched bays. Dale Allen; May, who was holding the baby; and J.D. stood on the porch, holding back the two young boys. All waved of them at the group’s departure. Heck and Chet rode out after the buckboard, waving good-bye to the people on the porch.

  The Warner School House served as the social beacon for the countryside. Mason, the county seat, was thirty miles away. Besides serving as a church, the school also boasted a community cemetery. There wasn’t enough water close by to suit the Baptists, so they rode clear over to the San Saba River for their submersion of sinners. That’s why they named the branch that ran beside the school Methodist Creek.

  The Byrnes set up in their usual place on the west side of the schoolyard. That gave them some cottonwoods to hang ropes between to make the fly work as a tent, or a shield against the north wind if it should it blow in. Reg had the chuck wagon wheels scotched and the backboard down for the women to prepare supper on. Susie was soon there to help him. Chet and Heck strung the ropes for the tarp. Heck held the bridle of Strawberry, a big red roan, and Chet stood on the saddle to get the ropes tied high enough on the tree trunks.

  Louise came by on her way to go see Maude Mayes, another war widow. ”I don’t think it’ll rain, but it’ll be nice to have that up anyway.”

  “I’d hate installing it in a storm,” Chet said, tying the side off, and Louise moved on.

  Ten-year-old Heck grinned big. “So would I.”

  The last rope strung, Chet slid down easily into the saddle and off the roan. “Thanks, Heck. Now we have to haul up that tarp and stake it down.”

  “Lots of work making camp for women,” Heck said.

  “Oh, I’ve seen the time I’d’ve gave my soul for a tent to get out of the rain under one.”

  “When do you think they’ll let me go up the trail, Uncle Chet?”

  “Year, maybe two, why?”

  “I want to go. I want to go with you and the others.”

  Reg was helping them unroll the large canvas. “There’s still going to be drives when you’re twelve.”

  “I’m just itching to go.”

  “So was I,” Reg said. “Now I been there, I can take it or leave it.”

  “Yeah, but I ain’t been there.” He was pulling with Chet on the tarp slung across the ridge rope to start it over.

  “Here, I’ll get Strawberry and let him pull it.” Chet ran for his horse and returned in the saddle. He soon had the rope dallied on the horn, and the gelding made short work of getting the tarp in place. Then Reg went to flipping it to spread it out overhead. He and Heck soon had it in place and the staking process began. In a short while, the shelter was up and secured.

  Wade Morgan came by and squatted down on his boot heels to talk to Chet. “I guess you’re going north come spring?”

  “I’m counting on it. We’ve got several head promised besides our own. You got some?”

  “Not many, maybe two hundred steers.”

  “I can take ’em.”

  “What’ll it cost me?” Morgan was close to forty. Short, squat built man did some blacksmithing and had the shoulders for the job.

  “About twelve bucks a head.”

  “That’s higher than others’ve been quoting me.”

  “I’ve not missed delivering them. My losses so far have been low. The prices I get there are all the market will allow. The France boys sent their cattle up two years ago with a man cheaper than I was, and they never saw that fella again. Lost everything.”

  Morgan exhaled deep and nodded. “I know. I know. Five years ago, I send two hundred steers north with a fella named Sears and got the low price on fifty head. Said the others stampeded into a river and drowned.”

  “So we’ve discussed the bargain deals. I may lose all of them. But I’ve paid life insurance of four hundred dollars on every hand I’ve lost, if they had an heir, plus their wages for the whole trip.”

  “Hell, I know you’ve been fair, but I need all I can get out of’em.”

  Chet clapped him on the shoulder. “So do I. And I can’t guarantee I can come back with a dime, but it won’t because I didn’t try.”

  “Mark me down for two hundred.”

  Chet took the logbook out and on the page marked “Drive of 1873” he wrote down, “Wade Morgan 200 head.” “We’ll be road-branding them in early March. The grass breaks loose, we’ll go north.”

  They shook hands on the deal.

  Morgan left him, headed back toward the building. Chet noticed Marla Porter drive by seated beside her husband on the buckboard. Porter’s fine team of matched horses were trotting along in step. Straight-backed, she sat head high, with a wide-brimmed hat and a tight-fitting jacket that emphasized her figure. Her posture drew a hidden grin from Chet. The sight of her also made his guts roil. She was like a bad habit that he needed to quit—but he couldn’t—damn her anyway.

  Louise came back looking stern-faced, and after looking around, talked to him from behind her hand. “The word is that Felton and Mitch Reynolds went north yesterday with a wagon for three bodies. One of them, they said, is Roy. The other was Luther Hines, Kathren’s husband. And the third was a Dab Stevens, some cowboy worked around here.”

  “So?”

  “Those were the men you hung?”

  He looked around, then hustled her aside. “Shut your gawdamn mouth. Now, I told you this was going to get volatile. Those men were common thieves. What they got they deserved.”

  “But they were men you knew—my boys went to school with Roy.”

  “Louise—”

  “Don’t threaten me.”

  “All right, but your damn mouth is going to get your boys killed. That’s not a threat, that’s a promise.”

  Her brown eyes flew open and she put her hand to her lips in pale-faced shock. Teary-eyed, she pushed past him for the wagon. “Damn you, Chester Byrnes. Damn you.”

  Shaking mad, Chet went to the fire ring and poured himself a cup of fresh coffee. Susie came from the fly on the wagon, her hands white with flour. “What did you tell her?”

  He looked off at the late afternoon sun shining through the high mare’s-tail clouds. “That her mouth would get her boys killed if she didn’t shut up.”

  “What set that off?”

  “She came back babbling about them going up north after three bodies.”

  “Who?”

  He blew on his coffee. “A couple of the Reynolds men.”

  “Who were they going after?”

  “Roy, Dab Stevens, and Luther Hines.”

  “Oh, my Gawd. That’s who was in on it?”

  He nodded.

  “I wonder how Kathren is taking it.”

  “I have no idea. I can say this. He never mentioned her or the girl. It was like he’d turned his back on them. Even the boys wondered about that.”

  “Bad deal. You know Louise may want to go home tonight after your confrontation.”

  “Sis, she’s been a thorn in my side for years. I didn’t send Mark to Mississippi to f
ight. But we’ve all had to bow to her wishes ever since. I am tired of it.”

  She wiped her hands on her apron and made a disappointed shake of her head at him. “Why don’t you go up to Mason and find you a nice plump little German girl who will raise you some kids and smile whenever you come home to her?”

  “How’s that going to help me?”

  “I don’t know, big brother. I don’t know, but you do need a wife.”

  “I don’t need one.”

  “All right, you say you don’t. I’ll have supper ready shortly. They’ll start dancing soon.”

  “Stanton going to be here?”

  She shrugged.

  “Maybe you need a husband?” He wondered how serious Ryan Thomas Stanton was about her anyway.

  “I have enough to say grace over now,” she said.

  “Try to have a good time.”

  “Why? Do you think it is our last chance to have any fun?” She frowned at him for an answer.

  “No, but I know how hard you work. You need to relax for once.”

  “I’ll get back to work then.” Susie laughed at him and left for her cooking.

  Reg and Heck came back to camp for supper. Heck looked pleased to be getting to tag along with an older boy. He was busting to get off the place and see more of the world. Chet could read it in his eyes. The most inquisitive ten-year-old he’d ever seen. He wondered where he came by those footloose ways.

  Susie asked Reg if he’d seen his girl, and he nodded. “I’m going to dance with her later. Those lessons you gave me should work.”

  Chet laughed. “They will. Sis is a great dancer.”

  She shook her head and began forking out the sourdough biscuits from the Dutch oven. “Time to eat, men.”

  After the meal, Susie sent the rest on, refusing any help washing the dishes. Chet wandered across the schoolyard, which was full of excited children running and playing tag. Someone had built a bonfire for light and some heat as the cooler night set in.

  “Any word on cattle prices?” Elmer Stokes asked Chet when he joined the ring of men.

  He shook his head.

  The older man nodded. “You hear they think Hines, a Reynolds boy, and some cowboy named Stevens were hung a week ago way up north in Palo Pinto or Parker County?”