It looked like a cattleman’s paradise as he rode the stage route northward. There were many playas and small streams in midsummer; the clear running water impressed him. He tried to imagine winter, but the south wind at his back made the task hard. He could imagine other cows raising big calves, those calves growing out to heavy weights as yearlings on this graze.
Sam stopped off at the stage stop and store. He ordered a cup of coffee and the lunch special from a man in a soiled apron.
“I got ham.”
“Ham’s fine,” Sam said.
“Better eat fast. The stage is coming.”
“How many on it?”
“Never know. Might be five or six. They’re in a hurry.”
“I’ll give them my seat, if they can’t find one.”
The man nodded. “You know they could take my franchise.”
“That would be bad,” Sam agreed.
“Be bad for me. I’ll get you a plate.”
The coffee tasted bitter. More like burned barley than coffee, and the ham the cook brought out on the plate was rancid.
A woman came inside and shocked Sam. It was the singer Ruby; two men in suits were herding her. Sam didn’t like either of them. Something was wrong. Both men acted like long-tailed cats in a roomful of rockers. The tall one kept checking on the gun in his shoulder holster, like it might have fallen out from the last time he touched it. The other dandy must have carried a derringer up each sleeve. They clunked on the table when he put his arms down.
Sam was finished with his sorry meal and tried not to stare at sad-eyed Ruby. She looked like she’d been through hell and needed someone.
“Aren’t you the one that sings in the Elk Horn?” he asked.
“Mind your own Gawdamn business,” the tall one said and reached inside his coat. “She’s my wife.”
“Sorry, mister. I was only going to pay her a compliment about her singing.”
“I said mind your own business.”
Ruby stopped the man with her hand, then spoke to Sam. “Thank you so much. He is only upset. Yes, I was that singer. Have a nice day.”
Sam touched his hat to her and started for the doorway.
“You better shut your mouth,” the man said.
“He may be the law,” Ruby said.
“He’ll be dead if he is.”
Sam heard that conversation, paid the cook and went outside. The stage driver was sitting on a bench, elbows on his knees, no doubt resting before he had to leave. He was a lanky man in a fringed buckskin shirt.
“You know them two men in there?” Sam asked under his breath, taking a seat on the bench beside him.
“Bob Cole and the tall one’s Michael.”
“That her husband?”
The stage driver smiled and shook his head. “They’re her managers. They collect all the money she makes. Why else would a woman like her”—he lowered his voice—“ever sing in Ogallala for two months? Them two’s on the run and she’s a slave to them.”
’Where they going?”
“Black Hills, I guess. Why?”
“I may call their hand.”
The driver shook his head. “Been tried before. That guy came out a loser.”
“You stand back when they come out.”
“Your funeral, mister, but I’m telling—”
Sam silenced him with a finger to his mouth. The others were coming.
The driver got up and went to open the coach door. He shook his head as if in deep thought.
All three people were past Sam, one man on each side of Ruby, when Sam rose and called out. The six-gun filled his hand. The unmistakable click of the hammer back made them halt.
“Hold it and don’t turn around. And don’t try for that gun in your coat or those derringers. Both of you step aside from the lady.”
“Lady?” the short one said, but both obeyed.
“Now, Ruby, you don’t have to go with them one mile farther.”
“Who in the hell are you?” Michael asked.
“Sam Ketchem.”
“She’s my wife.”
“Ruby, this is the place where you make the choice. I’m not rich, but I have the money to get you anywhere you want to go from here.”
“Who are you, mister?” Her large brown eyes were like those of a frightened doe.
“A damn cowboy, Ruby. You’ve tried that,” Mi cheal said.
Ignoring him, she looked hard at Sam. “You know they’ll try to kill you if I go with you.”
“Do I look afraid.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Ruby, don’t be a fool,” Michael threatened with an edge in his voice.
“Stage’s leaving,” the driver said. “I’ve got a schedule to keep.”
“Ruby, tell this hayseed no and get into that coach!”
There was something in her soft brown eyes when they met Sam’s. “I can’t do this to you.” She started for the coach.
“Smart girl,” Michael said.
“Ruby, I’ll be in Ogallala a couple of weeks,” Sam said.
She paused.
“If I ain’t there, my banker, Mr. Capton, will know where I live and stake you to money.”
Ruby nodded as if she had heard him and then she went inside the coach.
“You sumbitch,” Michael swore at Sam as he climbed in behind Ruby. “I should kill you for this.”
Sam grinned big. “Go for your gun.”
The driver shook his head in disgust and closed the door after Michael. Then he climbed up on the box and gathered his reins.
“Good to have met you, Sam Ketchem.” He saluted and left in the rocking conveyance for parts north.
Chapter 39
Sam made it back to Ogallala in four days. He was still undecided about a move to the north country, after seeing lots of grass and country. He took a room at the Western Hotel, then found a bath and a shave. Afterward, he bought a new pair of canvas pants, a collarless shirt, new socks and underwear. Then he ordered himself a handmade pair of boots from the man in the saddle shop, who promised to have them ready in four days. The next day, Sam rode out to the herd. At the chuck wagon, Kathy came to hug him.
“How’s Tommy Jacks getting along?” Sam asked.
Kathy ran and got her pad. “We’ve been getting offers on lots of the cattle. Mott’s heifers are up to sixty dollars a head. We have a cow man coming from Dakota to look at some of the cows. The brokers want the steer.”
“Good.”
“Some trail boss named Davenport came by a day or so ago looking for you. He said we’d be here till next year trying to sell all our cattle. I knew Tommy Jacks was upset and wanted to tell him no, but he never said a word and thanked him.”
“They don’t want those Texas cattle up here,” Sam said. Then he smiled at her and she laughed.
“You look nice all cleaned up.”
“Thanks. We better get busy selling while the iron is hot.”
“Tom’ll be happy to hear about that. He’s busting to get back to Texas.”
“Why don’t you two have a honeymoon going home?”
Kathy pursed her lips and then laughed as if embarrassed. “We’ve talked about that.”
“How are the kids?”
“Fine. They’ve gone fishing. We get to eat lots of fish here.”
“Sloan all right?”
“Fine. He rides his horse a lot with the men.”
“Good. I miss your cooking. I’ll be back at sunup. Save me some breakfast.”
“You can stay for supper,” Kathy called after Sam, but he had already mounted Soapy. He waved and rode for town.
He stabled the horse at the livery with Rob and stopped by the hotel room before he went to find supper. The receptionist handed him a letter with no stamp. The envelope had just his name on it.
Sam,
I heard that you were off looking at some country north of here. I hope to make you a full-time customer. I have some connections in this town. They offer me some inf
ormation from time to time on a fee basis. A man named George Sizer sent a telegram to Frio Springs, Texas, telling that you were here. The reply was to kill you. Be careful. This Sizer is a known hired killer.
Winston Capton
“Anything wrong, Mr. Ketchem?” the receptionist asked.
“No, just a message about a cattle sale,” Sam said and started up the stairs.
Sizer was the last name of the dealer in the card game who had paused when Sam had said his name. Now Sam knew why. He was on the man’s death list.
The next morning, before daylight, Sam went out the back of the hotel to the livery and short loped Rob out to the herd. His enemies wouldn’t catch him napping.
“That Mike Harbor says we can get fifty for the big steer,” Tommy Jacks said as Sam, some others, and he sat on the ground eating breakfast.
“How many head and how tough a cut does he want?”
Tommy Jacks shook his head. “Some English outfit needs them, he says.”
“Tell him we’ll take it, but no cut.”
“Aw, you know them buyers. They’ll want a cut.”
“We didn’t bring a lot of junk up here. Right now we have some good cattle to sell and you wouldn’t believe the grass north of here.” Sam picked up his coffee to sip on it.
“Lots of it, huh?”
“Belly deep on my horses.”
“You thinking about moving up here?”
Sam shook his head and looked off at the dawn breaking on the horizon. “I can’t get away from them up here.”
“What’s that mean?”
“There’s a hired gun out to kill me in Ogallala.”
“Who’s that?” Tommy Jacks made a sour face.
“George Sizer.”
“Know him?”
“Met him in a card game.”
“How in the hell is he hooked up to those damn Wagners?”
“He telegramed them that I was here and the reply was to kill me.”
Tommy Jacks shook his head in disbelief. “What’s the matter with those people?”
“It’s a Texas feud. The Wagners can’t tell you why. They want to kill my family. They just want all the Ketchems dead.”
“What can I do?”
“Keep the cattle on grass and water. Let’s sell all we can and see what’s left.”
“Your banker’s friend wants the Mott heifers at sixty?” Tommy Jacks asked.
“Good place to start.”
“Fine. We’ll cut them out today and bunch them. Then we’ll cut out and tally the three-year-old steer. Harbor can decide on them. I bet he takes them all.”
“The outfit wants the cows?”
“He’s been by and looked. I think he’ll take most of them at fifty. He said those heifers at sixty-five were too rich for him.”
As Darby brought the coffeepot, Sam held out his cup for a refill. “We get the herd size cut down, some of the boys can take some time off. I’ll advance them some money.”
“They’re sure itching to go.”
“We all know how that is.” Sam shook his head, recalling his youthful days in Abilene, Newton and Wichita.
“What about Sizer?” Tommy Jacks asked.
“Guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”
“Don’t cross it alone.” Tommy Jacks looked hard at Sam.
“All right, not alone.”
“Good. Kathy said that Texas schoolmarm turned you down.”
“I kinda got that behind me. Funny thing, you think about someone for so long, and then one day, it goes up in smoke like it never was to be in the first place.”
“Billy Ford said that you’d never marry that girl.”
Sam pushed off his knees to stand. “Kind of profound, him saying that, huh?”
“Yeah.” Tommy Jacks dropped his head and went off.
A knot in Sam’s throat was too big to swallow. He missed that boy, too.
That day, Sam stayed close to the herd. He sat on Rob and helped Tommy Jacks tally heifers. Bringing a heifer out of the herd was never easy. But the cowboys had plenty of practice. They also knew the best cutting horses in the cavvy, and they used them.
Webber rode a little dish-faced horse called Lightning. Nothing got by the horse. He could get down and face off cow brutes and switch ends from side to side until they gave up and went where Lightning wanted them to go.
Sam helped Jammer McCay keep the cows in a bunch apart from the main herd. In a few hours, the number grew. Pacho Moraye’s bullwhip cracked as he drove some more heifers into the bunch. Finally, at noontime, they lacked only five head. Tommy Jacks left two boys with the heifers, and they rode in for lunch.
“Five damn head,” Jammer swore. “Boy, they’ll be a bitch to get out.”
“Beats picking corn,” Webber said and they all laughed.
“A cowboy’s got to bitch,” Sam said.
“Why’s that, boss?” Webber asked.
“Why, if they didn’t, folks would think cowboying was the best job in the world and all get a job punching. Then real cowboys couldn’t get a job.”
“Where you hear that?”
“The colonel used to tell us that every drive.”
“Kinda sums it up,” Tommy Jacks said.
Sam agreed. Sitting in the saddle all day, he had enjoyed watching the boys and horses work, and he’d made up his mind. After lunch, he was riding back to town and calling out this Sizer. Never put off what needs to be done. His mama said that a lot. If he could only figure out what he needed to do with his life after the cattle were sold, he’d be happy. Always before, he’d had a purpose in life. His folks usually needed help or his brothers needed ranches. And he always had the hope of marrying Etta Faye. All that gone with the wind.
“Stay for supper,” Kathy pleaded when Sam dropped by the wagon and didn’t dismount.
“Thanks. I’ll ride on into town.”
“Sam.” Kathy’s eyes narrowed and she grew serious. “Don’t take those men on by yourself.”
“You mean that little hired killer Sizer?” Sam smiled.
“Tommy Jacks said the Wagners hired someone to kill you.”
“Ah, Kathy, if I backed down from every would-be gunman, I’d need to stay home and hide under the bed.”
“Sam, be serious. The boys want to back you.”
He shook his head. “Those boys ain’t gunfighters. They’re cowboys. I saw two of them like that get shot down in a ruckus in Dodge. I ain’t riding back to Texas with that on my conscience.”
Kathy slapped his leg to get his attention. “Listen to me.”
“I am.”
“Wait.”
“Kathy darling, you and Tommy Jacks can handle this deal. I trust you two will see it through—if anything happens.”
“If I was a man I’d hog-tie you.”
“Damn, girl, Tommy Jacks is lucky.” Sam winked at Kathy and turned Rob away from her. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Sam! Don’t—”
He waved and short loped Rob toward Ogallala. Maybe he’d get one thing cleared up that evening anyway.
Chapter 40
Sam dismounted in front of Hannigan’s Stables. In the open doorway, he adjusted his pants and chaps, then reset his Colt. Nothing looked out of place. There was the usual confusion of heavy traffic and freighters on Main Street. An old hustler named Smoky came out of the office and looked upset.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.
“Been three guys here today asking questions about you.”
“Who were they?”
“Don’t have handles for ’em. The guy doing the talking was short and chisel-faced.”
“George Sizer?”
“Could be. I knowed they wasn’t here looking for no cattle. The big guy’s got on a red-checked shirt. Looks like a boxer. The third one was fancy dressed. He had on cuffs with stones mounted on them. Wasn’t nothing precious.”
“Tillman Wagner,” Sam said aloud in dismay.
“Sam,
they went off toward the Elk Horn. Ain’t seen them in a couple hours, so they may be liquored up by now.”
“Thanks, Smoky. Let me know if you learn anything else.” He gave the man a dollar.
“Oh, I will.” Smokey licked the lips behind his bushy gray-black beard. “That’s sure generous of you.” He took Rob, assuring Sam he’d rub the horse down, then feed and water him right.
“You may spoil him to death.” Sam chuckled at the notion and set out for the boardwalk. “See you.”
Sam chose the east side of Main Street and kept under the porches with a wary eye on the Elk Horn across the way. Too many people were in the street. If a gunfight broke out, someone innocent would get hurt. He wondered about the town law. They wouldn’t choose sides. Maybe he had better go and talk to Winston Capton at the bank.
When Sam left the porch, he managed to mingle with the street traffic. So far he had not seen anyone come in or out of the Elk Horn Saloon who looked like Sizer or his men. Sam ducked inside the bank.
“Mr. Ketchem,” Barnabas said from his desk, then quickly finished the paper he was working on and rose. “You wish to see Mr. Capton?”
“Yes, if he’s not too busy.”
“Good to see you,” the banker said when the boy showed Sam in. “How are the cattle?”
“Fine. Things are shaping up on sales. You client is taking the heifers we talked about. Make him a super set of mother cows.”
“Good. Have a chair. What can I do for you?”
Sam went to the barred window and looked out at the backyard. “Who’s the law?”
“Beck Stevens is the chief of police. Why?”
“That hired gun and two men are in the Elk Horn. I guess waiting for me.”
“That’s why I wrote the note you obviously received.”
“Yes. Thanks.”
“You ain’t thinking about taking on that gunman by yourself are you?” Capton frowned. “What’s the commotion going on in the lobby?”
Barnabas broke in. “Sorry, sir, but some boy is out here screaming for Mr. Ketchem.”
“What’s he want?” Capton asked.
“I’ll handle it,” Sam said and swept out the door. He looked at a dirty-faced boy of twelve.
The Ogallala Trail Page 22