Ralph Compton Texas Hills

by Ralph Compton

  “No,” Owen said, “I’m beginning to think you’re right. Gareth just about admitted that he doesn’t give a hoot about us. When it comes to the cattle, all he sees is the money. It worries me some.”

  Luke smiled with genuine affection. “Thank you. It bothered me considerably that you didn’t believe me. Now that you’ve come around, what do we do about it?”

  “I don’t know,” Owen admitted. They couldn’t very well just up and leave. Not after all the work they’d put in. They had a right to their share of the profits, the same as the Kursts.

  “Do I warn Sam?”

  Owen mulled that a bit. “No. He’s caught up with that Lorette. He might take it into his head to tell her, and she might take it into hers to tell Gareth.”

  “We keep quiet and keep our eyes peeled for trouble?”

  “For now.”

  “What if they decide to do us in and take all the money for themselves?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “Provided they don’t shoot us in the back without any warning.”

  Owen hadn’t considered that a possibility, until now. Probably because it was something he’d never do. Philomena had often said that he had a habit of thinking people thought the same way he did, when they didn’t. “We’ll have to grow eyes in the backs of our heads,” he said lightheartedly to relieve the gloom he was feeling.

  “Or use these,” Luke said, and patted his Remington.

  Chapter 54

  A wind out of the west had picked up and swayed the tops of the trees. The cattle were fidgety, as if they sensed a storm might spring up.

  Lorette was riding night herd. It bored her. She was tempted to ride back to camp and sneak over to Sam Burnett and sit and stare at him while he slept. She liked to do that. But if she was caught, her pa would be mad as a wet rooster.

  Sam Burnett. These days, he was all she lived for. It surprised her. Since she could recollect, she’d liked to flaunt herself around boys. She’d tease and taunt and use her “female power,” as she liked to call it, to make them squirm.

  Things were different with Sam. It had started the same, with Lorette teasing him as she would any other boy. Then something happened. She began to grow fond of him. She told herself it was nothing. She couldn’t possibly fall for someone so ordinary. Someone so . . . pure. For if ever there was a boy who was an innocent at heart, it was Sam. You wouldn’t know he had two sisters, as little as he knew about girls.

  The first time Lorette kissed him on the cheek, he’d blushed a deep red. Normally, she’d have laughed and teased him. But a strange feeling had come over her. She’d become all warm inside.

  The warm feeling returned whenever she was around him. It got so she hankered to kiss him as she’d never hankered after anybody. Against all odds, against her own nature, she felt feelings she’d never had before. She could have her pick of any male in Texas, and she’d fallen for a boy no older than she was, a babe in the woods, as it were, who was thunderstruck when she eventually got around to kissing him full on the mouth.

  Just then Lorette caught sight of the Ghost. The bull was so huge that even at night, he stood out from all the rest.

  Lorette should have a man like that bull. Her pa always told her that when it came time for her to pick the man she’d hitch herself to, she should be smart about it. Pick a man with money. A man who knew what he was about. A man who would shower her with all the female foofaraw she hankered after.

  Instead, she had her heart set on a penniless boy.

  Disgusted and confused by her betrayal of her principles, Lorette straightened and stretched. Because of the wind, she almost didn’t hear the pad of a foot behind her. Slipping her hand to her revolver, she twisted in the saddle and went to jerk it from its holster.

  “Hold on, sis,” Silsby said. “It’s just me.”

  “I almost shot you,” Lorette snapped. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be sleeping.” She realized something else. “And where’s your horse? You came out on foot?”

  “Harland said to,” Silsby said. “It’s quieter.”

  Of all her brothers, Lorette liked Silsby and Iden the best. Which was only natural since they were the closest in age. Harland was too bossy. Thaxter treated her the same way their pa treated their ma, and she didn’t like that one bit. Wylie was all right but he hardly ever said anything. “Is our big brother afraid the cows will spook if they heard you riding up?” she joked.

  “He’s called a meeting.”

  “Who?”

  “Who are we talking about?” Silsby said. “Harland wants us all together. The others are already there. He sent me to fetch you.”

  “I’m riding herd with Iden.”

  “I already let Iden know, and he’ll be there, too.”

  “Then no one will be on herd,” Lorette said in confusion. “What if something spooks them?”

  “They’ll be all right. Harland says you’re to come. This is more important.” Silsby turned and beckoned. “It’s not far. There’s a clearing in the woods where Pa and the Burnetts and the Weavers won’t hear us. Follow me.”

  Lorette gigged her mare and went along. She didn’t understand why Harland would call a meeting so secret, even their pa wasn’t to know about it. If their pa found out, he’d beat Harland to within an inch of his life.

  Starlight lit the clearing. Harland and Thaxter were standing with their heads together. Wylie sat cross-legged, his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. Iden was squatting and plucking at grass. Silsby went over to him and hunkered.

  Alighting, Lorette let her reins dangle. “What’s this about, Harland? Why’d you pull me from night herd?”

  “Sit down and you’ll find out,” Harland said gruffly.

  Lorette stayed standing to spite him. She hated being told what to do. Hated it more than anything. With her pa she had no choice. She did what he told her or he’d take a switch to her. He’d been doing that since she could remember. The bigger she’d grown, the bigger the switch. But she would be darned if she’d take it off her older brother. So she stood.

  Harland and Thaxter drew apart and faced them—Thaxter, as was his wont, with his hand resting on his Colt.

  “Get to it,” Wylie said. “Pa could wake up and see we’re gone and come looking.”

  “This won’t take long,” Harland said curtly. Then he did a strange thing for Harland. He smiled at them. “I’ve called you together because it’s time we stood up for ourselves. Time we showed we have grit and won’t be bullied by Pa anymore.”

  “Pa’s not no bully,” Iden said. “He’s just Pa.”

  “Does that give him the right to boss us around? To make us do whatever he wants us to do?” Harland countered. “How many times has he tanned your backside or hit you with his fist, little brother? I bet you’ve lost count. The same as the rest of us.”

  “He only does it when I don’t behave or mess up,” Iden said.

  “Will you listen to yourself?” Harland said. “You’re making excuses for him. For a man who, as I recollect, knocked out one of your teeth that time you let the dog into the cabin and it wet the floor.”

  “The dog’s not allowed in,” Iden said.

  “You’re doing it again. You were only, what, ten at the time? It wasn’t your fault the dog snuck in.”

  “I felt bad that Pa shot it.”

  Lorette had felt bad, too. She’d liked that hound. It used to lick her face and make her giggle.

  “We’re not here to talk about the damn dog,” Wylie said. He was being talkative for Wylie. “Get on with it.”

  Harland glared at him, but only for a moment. “All right. I suppose I better.” He straightened and held his hands out like a parson about to give a sermon. “It’s time we stood on our own two feet. Time we did what we want and not what Pa wants.
Take this cattle drive. Pa had us partner with the Weavers and the Burnetts, and when we get the herd to Kansas, we’ll split the money three ways.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Lorette said. “They’ve done their part in this.”

  “We could have done it ourselves. It would have taken longer but so what?” Harland paused. “I say enough is enough. Let’s get rid of them. Soon instead of later on”

  “Pa won’t go for that,” Iden interrupted.

  “Pa is too soft,” Harland said. “My way is better. I say we get shed of them and do it all on our own.”

  “You’re loco,” Lorette said.

  “Don’t start on me, girl.”

  “What are you proposing, exactly?” Silsby said. “You haven’t made that clear.”

  “I’m proposing two things,” Harland said. “First, that we stand up to Pa and tell him we’ll drive the cattle ourselves.” He waggled a hand at Iden when Iden went to speak. “I know what you’re thinking. Pa won’t take kindly to that. Let Thax and me deal with him.”

  “How?” Lorette asked, but he ignored her.

  “The second thing is that we stop working with the Weavers and the Burnetts. I’ll tell them to their faces that we don’t want them around anymore.”

  “They won’t go for that,” Lorette said.

  “They better,” Harland said, “or we’ll settle it with lead.”

  Chapter 55

  Luke Burnett was glad his pa had finally come around to his way of thinking. The Kursts were up to no good. He felt it in his bones. So when a slight sound awakened him in the middle of the night and he saw the five Kurst boys come slinking out of the darkness toward their blankets, his first reaction was to slide his hand to his Remington. He was covered to his shoulders with his blanket, so they didn’t see. Cracking his eyelids to give the impression he was still sleeping, he watched them turn in. Their pa, who was sound asleep over by the horses, never stirred.

  Luke wondered where they had been. Lorette wasn’t with them, but then, she wouldn’t be; she was riding herd. He had half a mind to get up and demand to know what they were doing going off by themselves, but that wouldn’t get him anywhere. They’d deny it, or claim they were taking a walk, or some other nonsense. They stuck together, those Kursts.

  Thaxter had lain on his back but now he rose on an elbow and stared at Luke as if he suspected Luke were awake. Luke stayed still. Not that he was scared. He’d seen Thaxter practice and Thaxter was quick, but so was he. They were pretty evenly matched. Should it come to that, he couldn’t predict the outcome.

  His ma, more than once, had asked why he liked to draw and shoot so much. He honestly couldn’t say, except that he’d taken to the six-gun like a fish to water. There was something about it—the motion, the feel. He would practice all day if he could.

  His ma also remarked more than once that handling a six-shooter well was a useless talent. Being quick on the shoot, she said, didn’t put food on the table. She’d defied him to name one person who ever amounted to much because they could shoot quick. Naturally, he’d answered, “Wild Bill Hickok.”

  Thanks to Harper’s New Monthly Magazine, practically everyone on the frontier had heard about Hickok’s duel with a man called Davis Tutt in the public square in Springfield, Missouri. For a while it had been all anybody talked about.

  Hickok and Tutt had gotten into a dispute over a watch or a woman or both, and had faced off in the square and gone for their six-guns. At a range of seventy-five yards, Hickok put a slug through Tutt’s heart. It was an incredible shot, and made Hickok the idol of thousands.

  Luke was one of them. He practiced his draw every chance he got, practiced shooting at targets whenever he could afford the ammunition. He wasn’t Hickok, but he wasn’t a turtle, either, and he’d back down for no man.

  Certainly not for the likes of Thaxter Kurst.

  His ma didn’t like it that he always went around with the revolver on his hip. She did concede that west of the Mississippi River it was a common practice. And she did see the need. Where there was no law, or precious little, a man—or a woman, for that matter—needed a weapon for protection. Carrying a rifle or shotgun around all day was impractical. They were heavy, and only left one hand free. A six-gun was the smart thing.

  His pa’s only remark had been that he hoped Luke wouldn’t resort to his six-shooter without cause. Luke had the impression his father understood but was worried that he might have to use it someday. As a common saying had it, those who lived by the gun died by the gun. Luke had pointed out that thousands of men wore firearms, and relatively few were ever shot. His ma was there at the time, and she spoke up, saying if that were the case, why did he have to wear his all the time? A man had to be ready, Luke told her, because trouble could come at any time.

  That was where they’d left it. His mother wasn’t happy, though. He’d lost count of the times he’d caught her staring at his holster, and frowning.

  Luke focused on the Kursts. They were all lying still, on either their sides or their backs. He wondered where they had gone and what they had been up to. That they snuck off without their father knowing added to the puzzle.

  Luke considered mentioning it to Gareth. Harland and the others would probably deny it, and it would be his word against theirs. Whose word was Gareth Kurst going to believe?

  Luke wondered if he should ask Sam to ask Lorette. She might know. And as sweet as she was on Sam, she might tell him. Then again, another saying had it that blood was thicker than water. And the Kursts were tight-knit.

  Luke’s eyelids were growing heavy. With everything peaceful, he figured he might as well fall back asleep. He needed the rest. He was about to close his eyes and let himself drift off when he caught movement at the edge of the trees. Something had moved almost too quickly for the eye to follow. His sleepiness vanished in a twinkling.

  Luke almost sat up. Catching himself, he waited. He reckoned it must be an animal. A deer, maybe. They sometimes strayed close to camp. Or a longhorn, drawn out of the brush by the smell of the herd. Now and then one would drift in and they’d add it to the rest.

  The minutes dragged, and nothing appeared. Luke was about to try to get back to sleep when he noticed their horses. Nearly every animal had its head up and its ears pricked and was staring into the woods.

  The scent of a predator would do that. A mountain lion, for instance. Or a bear. Whatever it was, he doubted it posed a threat. No bear or mountain lion would attack the horses with so many men around.

  The horses went on staring. One nickered. Another stomped a hoof.

  Luke wrapped his hand around his Remington and waited, just in case he was wrong. No snarls or growls broke the serenity of the night, and after a while some of the horses lowered their heads and went back to dozing. When all of them had, he made himself comfortable and closed his eyes.

  He thought about his mother and his sisters, safe and sound at their homestead. As much as he cared for them, and as much as he missed them, he was glad they weren’t at the camp. He didn’t want his sisters anywhere near the Kursts. He’d seen how Harland looked at Mandy in town. It had taken all his self-control not to pistol-whip the son of a bitch. Harland’s mere look was an insult, the way he undressed a woman with his eyes.

  Luke needed to think about something else. He wouldn’t get to sleep otherwise. He thought about how well the roundup had gone, and how they would soon start the drive north.

  Provided nothing happened.

  The next day nothing did. They went about their routine, and all was peaceful.

  Luke was glad but perplexed. A new night fell, and he turned in, like the rest.

  He had trouble falling asleep. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

  Chapter 56

  Sam Burnett knew he was breaking one of the rules his pa laid down, but hour after tedi
ous hour of riding back and forth on the north side of the herd had made him restless. He’d sing and hum to the cattle to keep them calm, as he’d been told cowboys did. But there was only so much he could take.

  He’d rather ride with Reuben Weaver and talk. The time passed faster.

  So it was that an hour or so before sunrise, Sam rode around to Reuben’s side of the herd. Reuben was glad to see him.

  They were coming around the east end of the grassland and Reuben was saying he hoped a girl as pretty as Lorette took an interest in him someday when he straightened in his saddle and pointed. “Will you look at that? Why do they do that every now and then?”

  The longhorns had long since bedded down for the night. Usually they didn’t stir until near sunrise. But fully a score or more were up and staring intently at the nearest hill and the woodland that covered the slope.

  “What do you make of it?” Reuben said.

  Sam shrugged. “A bobcat or a coyote or something. It’s not worth bothering about.”

  “I reckon,” Reuben said. “Now where were we?”

  “We’re dropping the subject,” Sam said.

  “You were the one who brought her up,” Reuben reminded him. “Seems to me, the way things are going, pretty soon you’ll have to get down on your knee and propose.”

  Recently Sam had taken to confiding in Reuben. They’d become close friends, and Reuben could keep a secret. He sure couldn’t confide in his brother. Luke didn’t like his interest in Lorette. “I couldn’t help myself,” he said quietly even though there was no one else around to hear. “She kissed me, and the next thing I knew, I was kissing her back.”

  “Women will do that to a man.”

  Sam snorted. “Says the gent who’s never kissed a girl his whole life. As if you’re an expert.”

  “I’ve kissed my ma.”

  “That hardly counts,” Sam said. “This is serious. If Lorette keeps on as she has, she might well snare me.”

  “Sounds to me like she already has.”