by Cherie Shaw
“Now see here.” Holderman growled. “I’ll have the law on you.”
Garth scratched his head and said, “It seems the law’s busy right now, with Marshal Rhodes having his coffee, then Sheriff Dayton had to go sudden-like out of town for a few days, maybe a week. As I said before, the marshal don’t want to be bothered for a few hours.”
“No, Garth.” Logan began seriously, “I think the marshal said not to bother him for a few days, not hours. He’s working on a case right now, that is, he will be after he has his coffee, and while he’s busy doing all that, he also has volunteered to keep an eye on some of the ladies at the hotel. Who knows how long their men will be out of town, and we all wouldn’t want our womenfolk to be unprotected, now would we?”
Logan took off his black, flat-brimmed Stetson, smoothed out the crown, then slapped it back onto his head of thick black wavy hair, and said, “Let’s go fellas, we’ve got some ridin’ to do. Okay with you, Claude?”
Back at the hotel, Olivia and Amelia had just seated themselves in the restaurant, with Maria and Bridgett following. The waitress, Dolly, walked over with a pot of tea in one hand, and the coffee pot in the other. After setting down the teapot, she took out a letter from her apron pocket, handing it to Olivia. “From your uncle, dearie.” She stated, then walked over to a counter to pick up cups, saucers and spoons.
In a shadowed far corner of the room, his back to the wall, sat Marshal Dayton Rhodes, drinking coffee from a flowered china cup. The marshal liked his job, and it seemed to get more interesting as the years flew by. He also liked his coffee, hot as Hades, black as ebony and strong enough to melt leather. In fact his greatest joy in life was drinking a nice cup of coffee in the town restaurant, and most folks knew that even the most urgent business could wait until his two-hour coffee session was over. The rest of the day he was hard at work, patrolling the area, then around four in the afternoon, another two hours were spent with his booted feet on his battered desk, in the town jail, taking a siesta, then dinner at the restaurant, after which, he would spend the rest of the night watching the saloons in town, ready to haul any disorderly drunks off to spend the night at the expense of the town, at least long enough to sober up, then pay a small fine the next morning.
It was a good town, and most of the inhabitants liked Marshal Rhodes. Easy-going as he may appear, the ones who didn’t like him had soon learned to at least accept him, otherwise the marshal’s bad side would come ‘out to play’. He’d been a lawman most of his forty-five years, the adult years anyway, and didn’t know much of anything else, except maybe ranching, that which he’d tried his hand at a time or two.
Now Sheriff Paul Denton, on the other hand, was a no-nonsense lawman, and folks knew where they stood with him right from the start. A tough man by all western standards, and only a fool would tangle with him. A tall man, six-three in his stocking feet, and all two-hundred plus pounds of him was solid muscle. Though as everyone else, even the Sheriff had to have his time ‘away from it all’, so about once every month or so, Sheriff Denton was suddenly called out of town for a few days, and no one would ask questions as to where or what. Usually after three or four days, the Sheriff would return looking rested, and with a whole string of fish for the cook at the restaurant to fry up.
After a discussion with Lord Beckford that morning, the Sheriff had suddenly been ‘called out of town for a few days’.
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Olivia opened the note from her uncle. “Well, I guess we’re to be going to the ranch before long.” She stated. “Uncle Claude, Garth, Ricardo, and um….Logan have left to reclaim the Triple-B.”
“Si,” Maria offered, “Ricardo has told this to me. He said they may be gone overnight though. Not to worry if it is longer.”
“Yes, Uncle Claude said as much in the note. I just hope no one is hurt.”
“Hurt, huh!” Amelia snapped, as she briskly stirred her tea. “I’ve had a chance to size up that brother of yours, Olivia, and with the strength of Ricardo, Claude, and that Logan fellow, I think Garth will be the icing on the cake. That boy has put on nothing but muscle since leaving Beckford Manor years ago. Yes, someone definitely may be hurt, but it surely won’t be any of our men.”
“Our men?” Olivia mused aloud. “Yes, I believe you are right Amelia, dear.”
“Yes, child. I’ve seen the way you look dreamy-eyed at that chap Logan.”
Blushing, Olivia retorted, “I most certainly do not. Talk about dreamy-eyed. I’ve seen the looks that have passed between you and my uncle, for years now. And just when were you two planning on coming out in the open with this behind the scenes romance of yours? Huh, when?” Olivia lifted her tea cup to her lips, and took a sip of hot tea, as Dolly came over to take their breakfast order. The conversation began again as soon as Dolly had walked away.
Flustered, Amelia tried to pass off Olivia’s remarks, “Mercy, Olivia, you are such a dreamer! You truly don’t know what you are saying. Heavens, Lord Beckford and me?”
“Yes, dear Amelia. You and my uncle Claude. Everyone on the whole estate knew what was going on between you two. You weren’t fooling any of us for one moment. Oh and by the way….” She was enjoying this now, “for your information, dear Amelia, just about every widow and spinster in London have set their caps for Uncle Claude, and even a woman who rode the stage with us and is living here in town now, seemed to want to latch onto him. You’d better to some latching on yourself, before someone else does. That’s all I can say.”
“Oh, mercy, Olivia.” Amelia took a sip of tea to calm her suddenly shattered nerves.
Bridgett, Garth’s lovely red-haired wife, had been drinking her tea, and been very quiet up to a point, though now she suddenly let out a laugh, “Oh the trials and tribulations of romance. I wanted your brother, Garth, Olivia, so I just reached out and grabbed, using all the feminine wiles I could come up with. It seems to have worked. Stop playing games. If you want a man, can’t live without him, just reach out and grab.”
Olivia blushed a very becoming pink. “Now that sounds so crude……I couldn’t possibly……anyway, we……..we’re worlds apart. It would never work in a million years.”
Bridgett went on, not in the least discouraged, “Who now has a million years, I ask? If you’re dreaming day and night of this bloke, and believe me, Olivia, I have seen this Logan. Quite a looker, that one. If you don’t latch onto him soon, some lonely lass will. If I wasn’t so madly in love with Garth, I’d go after ‘im myself.”
“Really, Bridgett, really.” Olivia was suddenly speechless.
“Oh come on now, Olivia. Maria told us all about the rose that was left on your door handle. It’s obvious the man has strong feelings for you too.”
Maria joined in, “I have told the Señorita, you gringos have such a strange way of romance. We Latinos, we don’t waste time playing games.”
“Yes, Maria, of course. And I have heard all about your games with Ricardo, before you latched onto him. Say no more.” Olivia retorted.
CHAPTER 15
Marshal Rhodes was enjoying his second cup of coffee, seated at his favorite table in the corner of the restaurant. The weather was clearing nicely outside; he hadn’t had to haul any drunks off to jail in almost four days, and the bank had not been robbed in almost six months. Life was good. Now he’d been put in the position of keeping watch over four lovely ladies. It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.
Rhodes had been amused by the lively conversation going on at the ladies’ table, he couldn’t hear what was being said, but didn’t need to, as it was obviously a private conversation. Now getting back to his plans for the day, as well as keeping a sharp eye on the ladies, should they venture outside.
Rhodes planned on following the movements of a certain Henry Birch. The man was obviously up to no good, and Marshal Rhodes was nearing the point of putting him on the stage going out of town, any which way it was headed. Birch hadn’t shown his face outside of the boardinghouse for several da
ys now, but the marshal had spotted him outside right after daylight, staring off in the direction of the hotel where the ladies were staying. It would pay to watch that fella closely.
There was not much going on in Coyote Springs that the marshal didn’t hear about, or see for himself. Rhodes had watched from the side restaurant window earlier, while the four men had ridden out of town, with Logan leading on his sturdy roan gelding, and he’d noticed how Logan held his rifle across the saddle. Smart man, that Logan Wakefield. He’d seen Attorney Phillips and Jinx Holderman, being loaded into the rented buggy, and Holderman protesting about riding in the rig. A gentle, but firm prod from the double barrel of Garth’s shotgun, had gained Holderman’s full cooperation.
Rhodes chuckled to himself, knowing that when this thing was settled, Attorney At Law Phillips wouldn’t be practicing law anywhere near this part of the territory again, and he seriously doubted the man would get too many clients in the future; news tended to spread like wildfire in the west, and surely the man’s reputation would precede him, wherever he went.
At the Triple-B Ranch, Woody Perkins stood in the parlor of the large ranch house, facing his daughter. “You heard what?” He shouted, “Just what are you sayin’?”
“You heard me, pa. But I’ll say it again.” Trudy sat down on the settee, and said, “I just heard that you don’t really own this ranch. None of it. Now where did that rumor come from? Why are the hands sayin’ things like that? I happened to be outside the window of the bunkhouse, an’ heard what they were sayin’. They didn’t know I heard. But Hank, the cook was there, an’ I heard him say that ‘Maybe we should get Trudy out of the house, before the shootin’ starts.’ What’s goin’ on pa?” She looked up at her father questioningly.
“Trust me, daughter. I don’t know. Only the other day, when that attorney Phillips come out to the ranch, he said there’s been a stranger in town, a foreigner. Looked like he was fixin’ to try to steal this ranch, maybe has some kind of fake claim.” Perkins blustered, disgusted that Trudy had to hear about this problem.
“How could he?” She was seriously worried. “You bought this ranch over ten years ago, all legal like too. Even I remember that, and I was just a kid.” She wailed.
“That’s just it, daughter. You don’t understand. That blasted Clayborne Phillips told me just the other day that he never done recorded that deed at the county seat. Never got around to it, he said.”
“Maybe because it wasn’t a legitimate sale. Is that why, pa? You do have that piece of paper in your safe, don’t you pa? The deed, you showed it to me yourself, years ago.”
“Course I do, Trudy. Now don’t you worry your little head about any of this. I’m sure it will be straightened out, soon as Holderman gets back from town. I sent him to see Phillips early this morning; he should be getting back any minute now, with good news.” Perkins’ expression denied the words. He was worried, plenty.
Trudy arose from the settee, and stared at her father. Did she even know this man?
“Alright, daughter.” Her father said, after a moment of thought. “I may as well admit it; we’re in trouble. But, Trudy…don’t you see?” His eyes looked fierce, as he shouted, “Don’t you see, I did it for you?”
Backing away, Trudy asked hesitantly, “What, pa? What did you do?” She looked at him in horror.
“I’ll fight. I’ll get the hands together, and we’ll fight, if they come here.” He continued to shout.
“You mean just like a range war? Pa, what if one of us gets killed? Then what?” She was angry, and scared. She looked at her father as if he was a stranger. “Pa, just who is this stranger in town?” She asked.
“Why…..why, I don’t rightly know, just that Phillips said he was some British gent, and just may be the one I bought the ranch from many years ago. Now, girl, don’t you look at your pa like that. Don’t you go against me. That sale was legitimate, ah’ll swear to it, well anyway, the man was already rich, an’ clear across the ocean. Who’d know he’d travel this far? Huh, who? It seemed like such a good deal at the time. Don’t tell me that you haven’t enjoyed buying new clothes all the time an’ havin’ money to spend.”
“Oh, pa.” She wailed, “Not with someone else’s money. I’ll never be able to hold my head up in town again. We’ll have to leave the territory.” She turned and ran out of the room sobbing, and moments later, Perkins heard the back door slam.
“Damn.” He muttered. “Just where the hell is Holderman?”
He walked over to the gun cabinet, took down two rifles, then began checking the loads, after which he entered his study, and went to the safe. Moments later, he carried a satchel that had been stuffed full with cash and paperwork, and set it just inside the parlor door, where stood the two Winchesters leaning against the doorjamb, then returned to the study, lifted his gun belt from the back of a chair, and strapped it around his stocky midsection. After a few moments of thought, he filled both front pockets of his jeans with .45 caliber shells.
In the bunkhouse, a situation was unfolding. “I don’t know why.” Chester Burns, the sour-faced assistant foreman, was saying. He took over when Holderman was away. “The boss’s orders. Mr. Woody Perkins hisself told me to get Smokey, Rusty, Cougar, an’ Bart McCain, maybe a few others.”
He looked at Butch Hogan, and said, “You go too. Might as well learn the trail.” Butch, (Ranger Welby), smiled at this. Chester went on, “I don’t question the boss, just take orders as they come. Anyway, he said for you, Hank, to get the chuck wagon ready, pronto.” Hank nodded at this order, then looked over at some of the other men thoughtfully.
Chester didn’t notice the exchange between the men, and continued, “You boys round up about a thousand, or more, of the fattest steers, an’ head ‘em up north. Either Holderman, or Mr. Perkins himself, will ketch up in a couple days. Don’t know what’s goin’ on; I never question the boss.” He turned to go, but a few words from the newest hand, Butch Hogan, stopped him in his tracks. Something about the tone of his voice. “Hold up there, Burns.” Hogan had said.
Chester turned to look at the man, just as Hogan was pinning a silver star onto the left pocket of his shirt. It looked just like the type of badge the Texas Ranger’s wore. “What…what’s goin’ on?” He questioned slowly. Chester Burns frowned; he surely wouldn’t go against a ranger badge for Perkins, or anyone else for that matter.
Ranger Welby stated in no uncertain terms, “I’m Texas Ranger Jake Welby, and there won’t be any cattle drives today, Mr. Burns, nor at any other time soon.” He rested his right hand on the gun butt which hung loosely in the holster, then turned to look at the cowhands who were seated at various places in the bunkhouse, “You boys just stay put, an’ set a spell, at least ‘til we figure out just where you stand.”
Welby then nodded to Cougar Olson, who walked over to stand next to him. Just then Bart McCain walked through the doorway, having returned from town. Looking the situation over, he moved quickly to stand next to Olson. Most of the cowhands in the room were good honest men, and Welby was sure they wouldn’t interfere, though it always paid to play safe. During his many years as a Ranger, he’d learned caution. That was how he’d stayed alive this long.
“Heard of you, Ranger Welby.” Chester offered, “I thought there was something different about you. I also heard you were a fair man, an’ I never went against a Ranger yet. You’ll get no argument from me. You mind tellin’ me just what’s in the wind?”
“Well, I can’t go into detail yet, Burns, but you’ll know soon enough, and if I figure right, the true owner of this spread, should be on his way here at this moment, to reclaim his property.” Welby explained.
Burns kept his mouth shut, though he was pondering this turn of events thoughtfully.
Just then Trudy burst in through the door. “So it’s true then?” She yelled. “My pa’s a thief. That Holderman…….and that crooked lawyer, they both got my pa into this. I’ll shoot both of ‘em. We may’ve been poor, but we were honest.
I was just a kid.” She burst into tears then, and Cougar Olson walked quickly over to her, and taking her arm, led her outside onto the porch.
“You’re not agonna shoot no one, Trudy, girl. There, there.” He soothed.
Hank, the cook, who had been standing just inside the doorway, smiled to himself, as he shuffled over to sit down on a bench, next to the table. Things were finally making sense around the good old Triple-B. It was about time. “Okay if I go back to the kitchen, Ranger Welby?” Hank asked, then added, “You already know my position in this, an’ I figured on stirrin’ up some grub, maybe bring in a pot of coffee. Might be a long day.”
“Go ahead, Hank. Just holler before you come back in. Wouldn’t want to mistake you for a coyote.” Welby grinned at the cook, as Hank stood, then headed for the door.