Charlie Sunday's Texas Outfit

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Charlie Sunday's Texas Outfit Page 28

by Stephen Lodge


  The two clusters of bodies stood as best they could, but not without some difficulty.

  “I’m afraid,” Pike went on, “we can only untie you after the stampede … after you’re ALL dead!”

  “Then you really are planning on killing every one of us, aren’t you?” said Charley.

  Pike smirked again—shaking his head.

  “Not quite, Mr. Sunday,” he replied nastily. “I’m going to let your own cattle do my dirty work for me. Then, when somebody eventually finds your crushed and trampled bodies, it’ll look like the longhorns stampeded right through the camp and killed everyone. No survivors!”

  Pike cocked his head—listening.

  A faint but growing rumble seemed to be echoing across the early morning air.

  Other heads tilted, ears perked.

  Pike turned anxiously to Bull and Slim as the rumble increased in fervor to a loud, galloping roar.

  Roscoe and the others looked to Charley for reassurance.

  “What is it, C.A.?” asked Roscoe.

  Charley squinted through the surrounding foliage, looking off.

  On the hill behind them, led by Henry Ellis galloping ahead on his horse with Buster right behind, Potato John and his Comanche Dance Troupe rode to the rescue, swooping down on the unsuspecting gang of cattle thieves.

  Charley’s lips curled into a very large smile. He turned to his friends.

  “You ain’t going to believe this,” he told them with a chuckle. “It’s the cavalry, come to our rescue just in time!”

  Then, taking full advantage of the distraction, Charley broke free of his loosened bonds. He bent down and reached for his boot top.

  Pulling his Colt free, he dove away from the others.

  Pike, Bull, and Slim saw what Charley was up to and turned to respond.

  The old cowman was already up on two feet, fanning the hog leg in their direction.

  KA-BLAM! KA-BOOM! ZING!

  One slug tore the Winchester from Pike’s hand, while another smashed into the barrel of Slim’s pistol, knocking the gun from his hands.

  With a piercing rebel yell from Feather, the rest of the outfit broke free, piling onto the little meat packer and his thugs.

  Fists flew, dust boiled—deep blue cuss words filled the air.

  Out by the cattle, the rest of the rustlers, upon seeing the Indians, took off in all directions.

  The Comanches split off from their formation in pursuit of the individual rustlers.

  From their position in the camp, Flora Mae and Kelly could see all the action.

  Charley could also view what was happening to the cattle rustlers who were caught over by the herd. He smiled gratefully, setting his gun aside before wading into the camp-side mêlée.

  The Indian dancers jumped, tackled, and even bulldogged the members of Pike’s outlaw gang, doing whatever it took to force the rustlers into submission.

  Several of the lawbreakers managed to escape into the foliage that separated the longhorns from the encampment, only to become a part of the humongous altercation taking place at the campsite.

  Amidst all the commotion, Henry Ellis rode into camp, reining his mount into a magnificent, hoof-pawing rear.

  Slim moved in behind Charley, grabbing him from behind so Bull could administer a beating.

  Flying out of the bushes like a snarling, barking banshee, the growling Buster leaped eight feet through the air, tackling Slim, taking the greasy-haired man to the ground, allowing Charley to draw back his right and pop Bull a good one on the jaw.

  Then he reached into the fracas and grabbed Pike by the collar.

  The free-for-all continued in the camp’s center as Henry Ellis dismounted. He moved in beside Flora Mae and Kelly, who were both rooting from the fringes.

  As Charley pulled back to hit Pike, Flora Mae hollered, “Give ’im one for me, Charley Sunday! Give ’im your sucker punch!”

  And Charley did, sending the spineless little parasite sprawling near Feather.

  Free of the meat packer, Charley waded into the larger brawl.

  “C’mon, Grampa,” yelled Henry Ellis, “you can show ’em!”

  Kelly smiled, wrapping her arm around the boy.

  With Buster barking energetically from the sidelines, Rod decked Slim; then he jumped on top of the slender man and continued the pounding.

  The two rolled over and over. Finally Rod subdued his quarry with a solid left hook. Slim collapsed in a heap at his feet.

  Rod went immediately to Kelly and Henry Ellis, taking them both in his arms.

  Holliday, Roscoe, and Feather had managed to loop nooses around the rustlers’ necks.

  Charley, who had been knocked to the ground nearby, recovered and stood up.

  He watched in awe as Holliday tossed three ropes over a low-hanging tree branch.

  Charley stumbled over.

  “Hold it!” he demanded. “There’ll be no lynching.”

  “He shot ya cold … didn’t he, jefé?” said Holliday.

  “They were gonna kill us all,” echoed Roscoe.

  “Why not, boss?” added Feather. “They deserve it!”

  “No!” yelled Kelly. “Stop it, you silly old men.”

  All heads turned in her direction.

  Kelly, Rod, Flora Mae, and Henry Ellis moved over closer to the others.

  Kelly continued, “If you did something stupid like that,” she advised them, “you’d ruin everything.”

  Holliday, Roscoe, and Feather exchanged sheepish glances.

  Flora Mae and Henry Ellis moved to Charley’s side. He put his arms around both of them.

  “You’re famous men,” Kelly went on. “You’re the Texas Outfit. Don’t you think you should start acting like civilized human beings?”

  Several of the Indian dancers rode into camp, led by Potato John. He signaled Charley that everything was under control.

  Charley waved, throwing them all a wide grin.

  The Indians waved back.

  “Adios,” said the Indian leader.

  “Adios yourself,” answered Charley with a grateful smile.

  “And, thank you … again!” he added.

  “Hey,” said Potato John, “for a minute there, just for a short time … we WERE you guys.”

  “That you were, my friend,” Charley told him. “That you were.”

  Potato John smiled, nodded, and turned and rode away followed by the other Indians.

  Charley pulled out his pocket watch, and he checked the time.

  “Say,” he began, “ain’t there supposed to be some kind of celebration waiting for us all in Juanita?”

  FLORA MAE HUCKABEE

  by Kelly King

  Lest we forget … Flora Mae Huckabee. She’s Charley’s partner … the investor … the backer of the Colorado to Texas Longhorn Cattle Drive. It was her money, continuing interest, and support that gave Charley Sunday the added incentive he needed to get this whole thing off the ground.

  What is it about longhorn cattle that interested you in this project in the first place? I asked her. “There was never no ‘project’ at all,” replied Miss Huckabee. “There was this story in our local newspaper all about a Colorado auction … and Charley and me read about it around the same time. He came ta visit me that evening, like he does every so often, ta play a game of pool in my billiard parlor and to think over what he had on his mind. That’s what ol’ Charley’s done ever since I’ve knowed him when he’s got somethin’ in his head that needs thinkin’ on. He rides inta town and comes to my place. He told me that he sure would like to have a few of them Colorado longhorns … an’ that if he could end up with just a few, maybe he could keep his place from going into foreclosure. I told him that I had also read the article about the Colorado auction that morning, and that I also thought it would be nice to acquire some of those longhorns for my own ranch, as well. Then we got ta talkin’ about it and I finally offered Charley ten percent of how ever many longhorns he might end up with after the auction was
over … if I put up the money for him to use for the bidding. I was completely flabbergasted when he telephoned and told me he’d ended up with the whole darned herd. Then he called me back again later on ta tell me that no one in Denver would ship the cattle … Not one of them highfalutin, livestock-haulin’ companies in Denver had the time or the space to transport our longhorns down ta Texas. Can you believe that? I knew that money talked, so I began to have suspicions that there was someone that didn’t want those cattle leavin’ the state of Colorado. When Charley contacted me again shortly after, to tell me he decided he could drive ’em all the way down here like they’d done in the old days, his idea struck me as a pretty good one. I called a meetin’ of my company’s board of directors and in no time I had the extra money Charley would need for the drive. You were there, honey,” she said to me, “so you know the rest of the story.”

  I wanted to get to know this fascinating woman a little better so I began asking more questions. How long have you known Charley Sunday? was my next question. “’Bout as long as the Huckabees have been doin’ business in Juanita, Texas,” she answered. “Let’s see,” she went on … “I moved to Juanita with my parents just after Daddy had struck it rich … that was quite a few years back … sometime before the War Between the States. Daddy had got into some trouble with the U.S. Army up in Indian Territory … those yella’-bellies tried ta move in on the states an’ territories with Southern sympathies way before the war got started. It was something to do with gambling, if I remember correctly. They were going to confiscate all of Daddy’s holdings and leave us penniless unless he agreed to pay some outrageous tax fees on our family’s holdings. Daddy, always bein’ one step ahead of his enemies, converted everything he had inta cash and we took off for Texas in the dead of night. Daddy decided to set us up in Juanita. It was a nice, peaceful little town and not that far from the Mexican border … That was in case Daddy felt things were getting a little too hot for him to handle.

  “Charley Sunday an’ me met up in the Juanita schoolhouse. He was a few grades ahead of me in his studies, which made him a few years older. You might say I stuck my brand on him right then. We was hand holdin’ within a month … kissin’ in the cloak room in two. But sadly, it never went any further than that. We’d break it off for a while … then we’d get back together. Our relationship went along like that until he an’ Willadean tied the knot. Charley never strayed in all the years he was with Willadean. So I kept clear of ’em both. I knew she wouldn’t have approved of Charley’s and my earlier relationship, so I just stayed away. Then he started comin’ inta my place every so often ta play a game of pool or two. He even had a beer with me when he needed ta get things off his chest. That’s when he first told me about Willadean’s sickness … and that the doctor in Del Rio had told him she was more’n likely going to die from it. He spent a lotta evenings with me in my place a’ business when Willadean was in the hospital over in Del Rio. Thirty miles was a good distance back then—between Juanita and Del Rio—before the railroad came through. Nowadays you can be in Del Rio in an hour or so, if you’re lucky. Back then it was an all-day ride by horseback or buggy. When Willadean finally did pass, Charley’s daughter, Betty Jean, moved out of the house and got married shortly after. When she gave birth to Henry Ellis, the new family had to move back in with Charley for a spell until the boy’s father could find the kind of work goin’ off ta college had prepared him for. When he finally did get a job, it turned out the company’s home offices were in Austin. So that’s where they went to settle. The boy hated to leave his grampa. For the first few months the family was in Austin, I’ve been told, Betty Jean said Henry Ellis wouldn’t talk to her or Kent, his father. It was only after they brought the boy back to Juanita the next summer to be with Charley for a few months that the boy seemed to accept his lot … and he eventually forgave his parents. All that boy lives for is the summers when he gets to spend time with Charley at the ranch in Juanita. Both Charley and me ain’t never told Henry Ellis about what’s gone on between the two of us. We’re afraid that’d break his little heart.”

  Tell me about your early years. “I was born and raised on a small farm in Oklahoma Territory. As you might have guessed by now, my daddy was either rich or poor when I was growin’ up. Oklahoma was considered Indian country back then. And I come ta find out later on that my family was livin’ there illegally throughout most of my childhood. Daddy kept us there in Indian Territory so he’d always have a safe place to come back to if one of his money-makin’ schemes got out a’ hand. By the time I was twelve, Daddy was spending a lot of time with us at home because no one outside the Territory was fallin’ for his proposals anymore … What I meant to say is there didn’t seem to be that many speculators left in the surrounding territories and states that were willin’ to invest in some of Daddy’s wilder ideas. One morning, Daddy come ridin’ up to the house shriekin’ like a chicken with its head cut off. ‘Everyone pack it up,’ he was yellin’, ‘Right now,’ he added. ‘We’re movin ta Texas.’ My mama come runnin’ out a’ the house sayin’ that the bacon was about ta burn and the eggs was turnin’ hard, so he’d better come on inside an’ eat some breakfast. ‘We can have breakfast when we get ta Texas,’ he told us all as he harnessed our two plow horses to an old wagon we used ta go to town in for groceries and such. ‘Don’t worry ’bout packin’ the furniture,’ said Daddy … ‘We’ll buy all new furniture after we find a town ta settle in.’ Mama asked him just how were we gonna do that when she had just spent the last of our savin’s on the bacon and eggs that was now about ta go to waste in the kitchen. First time I ever seen him do it, but he took my mama up in his arms and kissed her … then he looked her eye to eye. ‘You don’t gotta worry where the next dollar’s comin’ from anymore, Ida. I just won a tad over five hundred thousand dollars cash in a poker game.’ ‘The hell you say, Elmer,’ she said. ‘If we’re all so rich now, just why in tarnation do you want to move ta Texas?’ she wanted to know. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘the three gents I won the money from believe I cheated ’em.’ Mama’s eyes opened wide like she’d been touched by Jesus. ‘Then let’s get a goin’ before someone convinces ’em they’re right,’ she said. She turned toward the house. ‘Com’on children. Can’t you move your little butts faster than that? We’re goin’ to Texas!’

  “Daddy found us a nice place to live in Juanita … a large house in town that had been built by the bank’s previous owner. The townspeople … the banker’s customers… had caught the banker with his fingers in the till but he up an’ disappeared before anyone knew where he went. Daddy got the house pretty cheap, too … because the new banker needed hard cash right away to replenish what the old banker had stolen. The townspeople were all so happy that someone with cash money had come to town, no one ever bothered ta ask Daddy for his references.” Miss Huckabee also let me know that before her mother and father were killed in a train wreck near San Antonio her daddy had helped the citizens of Juanita out by building ’em a new school. “He also remodeled the Methodist church and donated a bunch of new pews to the Baptists. Daddy left me everything in his will, mind you. At the first readin’ of that document Daddy had left it all to my mama. But since she had died right alongside of him in the wreck, the money went to his oldest, living child … me. Oh, there were provisions for my younger brothers and sisters and that made them all happy. Most of the girls married right away … and the boys all went off to add to their small fortunes in one way or the other, while I stayed put in Juanita. The town didn’t have no decent place to put up overnight visitors, so I built the hotel. There was also no place for the men to work off steam, so I added the poolroom and the saloon. That got the women folk riled up against me so I built ’em a place where they could gather for teas and other female-type events they might want to put on. In the end, everyone was delighted, and there were some people who even wanted to run me for mayor. That never happened … and I’ll bet you know why.” Because you’re a woman, I answered. “That’s ri
ght, Miss King,” she said. “Just because I’m a woman my supporters lost interest and a man was elected, as usual.

  “It wasn’t long before Charley became one of my regular customers again at the pool hall and saloon. His foreman and good friend, Roscoe Baskin, used ta come in with him at first, but I reckon Roscoe got tired of Charley hangin’ around so late at night when the two of us … me an’ Charley … would keep on jawin’ away until the wee hours. Now it’s only Charley that comes ta visit me. That was until he had this crazy idea of bidding on these longhorns up in Colorado. Well, now it looks like his crazy idea weren’t so crazy after all, now that him and his outfit are almost home. I’ll bet there’ll be a lot of sore losers tomorrow when the longhorns come ta town … meanin’ those folks who bet against the success of Charley Sunday’s Texas Outfit.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  A small boy was intently watching the far end of Juanita’s Main Street. After a moment, his eyes widened with exploding excitement.

  “Here they come,” he yelled, “longhorns comin’ in!”

  A fluttering, overhead banner proclaimed, WELCOME HOME, CHARLEY SUNDAY’S TEXAS OUTFIT!

  The boardwalks on both sides of the street were packed with people who had turned out for the festive occasion—locals, tourists, the press—even Sheriff Dubbs and the smiling church deacons were on hand to welcome the drovers. The entire Calvary Missionary Baptist congregation, plus the choir, had shown up and could be spotted throughout the pulsating crowd.

  The American Stars and Stripes and many Texas State Lone Star flags lined the street, waving in abundance.

  News cameras on their wooden tripods had been set up along the route.

  All of the sunburned faces were turned to observe.

  The longhorn herd rounded a corner and started up the street—led by Flora Mae’s all white team and fancy carriage, with its top folded back …

  Flora Mae’s bartender drove, with Buster at his side, while Charley, Flora Mae, and Henry Ellis sat up higher on the back of the rear seat, waving to the cheering multitudes.

 

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