by Mason, Zack
Jinny's mom, Sarah, also seemed comfortable with me. She was the epitome of propriety, but I felt she would have been happy for me to court Jinny. Never came right out and said it, though. She was a beautiful woman too. It was plain to see where Jinny got her looks. Tom Logan was a lucky man.
Jinny and I both had dreams of traveling to Europe someday, and other famous places. She had a good chance to realize her dreams, whereas I figured my shot at such things had passed. It doesn’t hurt to dream though.
She still spoke of life and the world idealistically. It was cute, but I knew better. My naive idealism had long been washed away by the tide of hard experience.
Our conversations were usually light in nature, a nice relief after a long day in the saddle and a good diversion from an almost constant preoccupation with Ben’s fate. Sometimes, I’d talk to her about my brother and my frustrations in trying to find him.
One night, we were up late drinking tea and playing cards in the Logan kitchen, just the two of us. We always drank tea because she couldn’t stand coffee. I kidded her about that, told her she would grow into it. That always reddened her. She didn’t appreciate me reminding her of her young age.
We covered all the normal topics that usually peppered our conversations. Ranch life, horses, traveling, and Henry Tadd. After a bit, she turned serious.
“I need to tell you something, Jake. Something about your brother, but you have to promise you won’t get mad.”
She had my attention faster than I could blink. I nodded, afraid of what she might be about to say.
“While I was helping Ma with the laundry this afternoon, I accidentally overheard two of Daddy’s hands over by the barn. When I realized what they were saying, my listening stopped being so accidental.
“One of them mentioned your brother’s name. He laughed about something he’d done to him a while ago, or so I gathered from what he was saying. Something about how they’d ‘sure surprised the yank’. That was all I heard because they walked away after that.”
“Who were they?” I hissed.
She didn’t want to answer, seeing the red in my eyes.
“Jinny, you have to tell me who they were!” My heart was pumping hard. Finally, the break I’d been waiting for.
“Jake, you have to promise me that you won’t go off half-cocked and do something rash...”
“I can’t make any promises like that and you know it,” I interrupted, “Now, who was it?”
“All right. I didn’t see who the other guy was, but the one talking was Mitch Byrd.”
It took everything in me not to rush off, find Byrd, and throttle him right then. I didn’t want Jinny to see me so upset though, and it would be foolish to confront him in front of others. I would wait for an opportunity to get him off by himself.
I’d wait until tomorrow. There would be plenty of opportunity tomorrow. So, I sat there, quietly sipping my tea, trying to play like I was fine.
Jinny studied my eyes, skipping from one to the other. She could tell I was excited and angry all at once. I was having trouble hiding it.
She reached across the table and placed her hand on top of mine, a comforting gesture. It worked, I guess, because I started to calm down, but I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice her leaning across to kiss me until our lips were already touching, and it wasn’t the kind of kiss a sister gives her brother.
It took me completely by surprise. I’d no idea she was having those kind of feelings toward me. She’d given me no sign of it, unless I was so dense I’d just missed it, which I probably had.
My gut instinct was to jerk back, but I didn’t, knowing it would crush her. Her lips were soft and sweet, but after a brief moment I ended it. She sat back and I saw an emotion in her eyes I hadn’t noticed before. I hoped it was just puppy love.
“Jinny, I had no idea you felt like that about me. I thought you were sweet on Henry Tadd.” I smiled, hoping to soften the disappointment I knew I had to give her.
“You’re a handsome man, Jake Talbot, and I think I’m woman enough for you. Henry’s just a boy still, anyway.”
“You’re quite a young woman for sure, but I’m too old for you. I don’t think your father would approve. Do you?”
She lowered her gaze. Disappointment erased her smile as quickly as a rainbow when its sun is gone. Some situations left you with no way out.
“You don’t care for me in that way, do you?” Tears welled up in her eyes.
“No, Jinny, I’m sorry, I don’t. I’m flattered by your kiss, very flattered, but I’m just too old for you.”
“You’re only 26!”
“Yeah, and you’re 14. I’m nearly twice your age.”
“I think I’d better go to bed.”
“Jinny, wait...” It was too late. She rushed from the room, trying to wipe her tears without me seeing. I sighed, feeling like a fool. Why did the dad-blamed girl have to put me in that situation? Even if she’d been older, I didn’t have time to mess around with a courtship. I had to find my brother.
I let myself out of the Logans' kitchen and headed back to the bunkhouse. My thoughts lingered on her momentarily, but they were soon replaced with my quickly forming plans for a confrontation with Mitch Byrd.
"What do you know about my brother, roach?"
I'd caught Byrd by himself and now I slammed his wiry frame up against the side of the bunkhouse. His yellow-specked, pale grey eyes flicked back and forth, fruitlessly seeking escape or help.
He was short, but not stocky. Besides his small stature, everything else about him seemed average. He was balding and wore what remained of his dark brown hair slicked back against his skull.
He held his hands in front of his face as if to plead defenselessness.
"Look, pal, I don't know what you're talking about," he whined.
"Somebody overheard you laughing about how you ‘surprised’ my brother. Ben Talbot. His name ring a bell?"
"I never said any such thing."
Smack!
I punched him in the left eye, knocking him to the ground. Holding his eye with one hand, he whimpered as he staggered back to his feet.
"Listen, Byrd, I’ve got no qualms about beating the living tar out of you. Start squawking!"
I was calm, calmer than I'd been for a long time, but I fully intended to pound the truth out of him if I had to.
"All right, all right. Listen, okay... it wasn't anything bad, okay. Oooof!"
I throttled him in the stomach and knocked the wind out of him. He gasped for air like a fish out of water.
"Did you kill my brother, Byrd? Did you?"
It was a few moments before he could catch his breath enough to answer.
"No...I...didn't. You've...you got to believe me...I...I don't know...you're talking about."
"You said you ‘surprised’ my brother. What was the surprise? Last chance."
"Look...That wasn't about me. I was just trying to...to impress the guy. I was telling...a story I heard...heard it from somebody else."
"Who? Who’d you hear it from?" He was breathing better now.
"Some guy. He was a...he was a drifter. I don't know. Haven't seen him for a long time. Man...you hit hard. He used to work here a few months ago."
"What was his name?"
“Don’t remember. John, I think, didn't ever learn his last name. He didn't work here that long."
"Sure. Bet his last name was Smith or Doe, huh?"
"No, I swear! Look it wasn't nothing to do with your brother disappearing. The guy was hooked up with rustling, okay? He and some other guys were rustling, and he was telling me a story about how they surprised your brother once when they took some of his cattle. That's all I know, okay!"
"Why didn't you tell Logan about this?"
"I...I...I don't know. I thought the guy might kill me if I ratted on him. He was one rough hombre and pretty good with a gun."
"I think you're lying, Byrd. You know a lot more than you're telling, and you'd bette
r be careful. I'll be watching from the shadows. As soon as you decide the coast is clear, that’s when I’ll nail you."
I walloped him a couple more times and left him to wallow in the dirt like the pig he was.
I wasn't sure whether to believe him or not. He was of the quick-thinking, conniving sort, and it wasn't infeasible that he’d made up that story on the spot. If he had, all I had to do was keep my eye on him and he’d make a mistake. If he hadn't made it up, I was no closer to finding answers than when I started.
I asked around and there had indeed been a man who'd worked on the ranch for a couple of months named John. No one knew anything more about him. So, at least that part of Byrd’s story checked out.
I considered telling Logan about the rustling story, but decided against it. I didn't have enough evidence to be convincing. Plus, nobody knew anything about this guy named John. I'd let Byrd sweat it out and worry if I was going to talk to Logan or not. That could be more effective than actually doing it.
In the end, my plan didn't pan out. Byrd never made a false move. Probably because he knew I was watching him. Once again, I was making zero progress.
***
Mitch Byrd had been in and out of tough spots throughout his short life, situations where he'd been forced to choose between his own well-being and that of others, and never had he failed to choose his own.
Any other decision didn't make sense to him. To Mitch, there was no higher calling than one's own self-preservation, and he would stop at nothing to fulfill that. Today was no different.
Jake Talbot had scared the living daylights out of him. Byrd wasn't much of a fighter — he preferred using his head, not his fists. Talbot had threatened him, and he couldn't let that stand. Threats had a nasty way of becoming reality. He had to be the first to yank the rug out from under Talbot somehow.
That evening, Byrd called on Logan in his office. Mitch had waited until his eye had fully bruised up, purple and ripe, maximizing the effect of what he had to say.
"Mr. Logan." Byrd stood in the doorway, hat in hands, rolling the brim of it nervously, a humble gesture.
"Yes, Mitch. What can I do for you?" Logan was a kind man, but he wasn't stupid. He knew Byrd's reputation.
"Mr. Logan, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I felt like I had to talk to you about something."
"Oh? Is this about what happened to your eye?"
"Yes sir, you see, earlier this afternoon, I overheard Jake Talbot laughing about how he'd been rustling cattle lately. I didn’t hear him claim to have rustled any of yours, just the other ranches, but I know we’re missing some too, and if he’d rustled the others, well…
“So, I called him on it, and the man just went wild. He hit me and kicked me a few good times after I was down. I finally felt good enough just now to come and tell you about it."
"I see.” Logan leaned back in his chair and said nothing for several minutes. Byrd waited expectantly. “Well, I'm glad you told me, Mitch. That's quite a serious accusation."
"Yes sir."
Logan thought Mitch was probably lying about what had happened, but if so, then what had happened? That it had something to do with Jake Talbot, well, the man's eye and reputation left little to doubt. He didn’t know the real problem, but decided to keep an eye on them both.
"I appreciate you coming to me with this, Mitch. Let me know if Talbot gives you any further trouble."
"Whatever you say, boss." Mitch turned meekly and quietly left the house. Once outside, he straightened and his face took on a hardened smirk. He knew Logan hadn't believed him completely, but he’d planted the seeds of suspicion. From now on, Logan would question anything Talbot had to tell him as well. That was enough.
A man has to have a purpose in life, or he finds himself drifting dangerously. I knew my purpose, but I couldn't accomplish it, which was almost as bad. Frustration was building.
I found myself drinking the hard stuff more and more often. I knew Jinny didn't like it, but she didn't say anything. It was the only way I knew to take my mind off the driving need to find Ben. At night, my frustrations seemed to magnify themselves. More and more, I found myself resorting to the saloon for relief.
Liquor has been the ruin of many a man, but I wasn't the type to fall into that sort of trap. Yet, if I wasn't drinking, I’d play cards all night, which made me that much less useful the next day at work.
The days passed with an ever-loving, eternal slowness that tormented me, and they began blurring into one another. Before I knew it, six months had gone by, and I with nothing to show for it.
Nothing was a hard result to take.
I found the lack of information about Ben and Jessica highly unusual, especially in such a small town where everybody makes everybody else's business their own. Apparently, neither Ben nor Jessica had made a habit of coming to town much, which made me wonder where they’d gotten their supplies. You can't survive very long without restocking supplies.
No, it was obvious people just weren't talking, and I didn't know how to get them to start.
One day, I finally got a small break. I ran into Michael Byers, the county’s newspaperman. Either he knew a lot more about local goings-on than everybody else, or he was just more loose-lipped.
Byers was an intelligent man. He wore small, circular spectacles which made him look a bit Ben Franklinish, but younger and thinner, and not so odd-looking. He was reluctant to open up at first, but after some prodding, he ended up telling me quite a bit.
"Sure, I remember your brother. I remember the first day he came to town, actually. Most newcomers to these parts come in off the stage, but he rode in, dusty from the northern trail. He staked out and claimed some prime land east of here in a little secluded vale.
“Hard worker, that one, or at least that's what people said. Why, it wasn’t long before he'd built himself a little cabin and sent for his wife. When she arrived, it was pretty clear he was in it for the long haul."
"Well, if that's the case, then why doesn't anybody around here remember him when I ask? What are they hiding?" I asked.
"I don't know if they're hiding anything. Scared maybe, or just unsure what to make of you."
"Why would they be scared?"
"Your brother didn't exactly have it easy around Cottonwood, so he eventually stopped coming to town.
“You see, before he ever arrived, there were the Big Three: Logan, Dunagan, and Hartford. They have run this valley for years. They were running it before this town was even built. Those three came west together, got started together, and built this community together. They didn't take kindly to some upstart coming in late in the game and claiming land, especially if he was butting in on their water."
"Their water? Did they own the land my brother claimed?"
"No, but they felt like they did. Kind of held it in common, unofficially, of course. There are only four major water holes in these parts, and you can’t run a cattle ranch without water. Tom, Jim, and Bill each claimed and staked out one for their ranch, but the fourth they kept as a common watering hole between the three of them to prevent feuding. That is, until your brother claimed it.
“They didn't like that at all and let him know it every chance they got. Now, he claimed it fair and square, it was all legal, and they were kicking themselves for never having done it themselves. But again, they'd always been afraid of causing a water war. It had never occurred to them that someone else would ever have the gall to come in right under their noses and build. But your brother sure did, by gosh!"
"Did they need that water?"
"Yes and no. I guess the truthful answer is not really. They just felt like they did. Wanted that extra security in case their own springs dried up, know what I mean? In all fairness, your brother offered them free use of it. His herd wasn't big enough to use all the water there anyway. They still didn't like it though, not having the water under their control.
“They put a lot of pressure on him, and he just kind of stopped coming to town. So di
d his wife. Jessica was her name, right? Things cooled off for a little while, but then the rustling started. That's been going on for the past year or so.
“The Big Three were all convinced your brother was behind it. All three of their ranches were losing cattle, but he wasn't. Plus, being a newcomer and all, suspicion naturally tended to fall on him, of course. They were determined to run him out of the valley. Even went out to his ranch several times with the sheriff, looking for evidence. Never found any.
“That's about all I know. Didn't even know your brother was missing until you got to town, much less his wife. Right sorry to hear about that."
Byers seemed sincere and honest, so I took him at his word. He wanted to run an item in the paper about their disappearance, but I figured it was a waste of time.
At least now I understood Ben’s situation, and why someone might have wanted to get rid of him. I still had no idea who, though I had three big suspects.
The rustling continued, and I hoped that would, if nothing else, clear my brother's good name since Ben wasn't around any longer to blame for it. I heard some rumors that Bill Hartford was saying Ben was hiding out in the hills and rustling from there. That got me pretty steamed, but there wasn't anything I could do about it, so I just had to stew.
Next, I began hearing the ranchers believed I was in on the rustling too. All of a sudden, I felt what Ben must have felt. It's a terrible thing to be accused of a crime when you're innocent.
Townsfolk became more and more hostile toward me. Hope of anyone helping me find Ben quickly faded.
Though nothing could unfocus my mind from my main purpose, I wasn't making any headway. Most nights found me in the saloon, playing cards, drunk, loud, and generally feeling sorry for myself. Feeling sorry for Ben, for what had happened to him, and for myself for not being able to do anything about it. Mad and hurt because people were accusing me of crimes I hadn't committed and never would.
I was growing desperate. I wanted to kill somebody so bad, I could taste it.
Not just anybody. The person who’d hurt Ben. I wouldn’t let myself believe he was dead, but the thought kept slipping through. Every night, I’d fight the same battle. Those two halves of me would rise up to wrestle one another, one side urging me to kill, kill, kill...the other whispering patience. Each night, though, that whisper grew a little fainter. My wildness was winning...and I was glad for it.