Texas Trails 1

by Patrick E. Andrews

  “You mean like having some masked sonofabitches trying to run me outta business and not being able to keep a full crew hired on?” Hawkins asked. “Is them the troubles you mean?”

  Rawley smiled. “Not unless you got more’n that.”

  “I’ll let Nancy explain it, Mr Pierson,” Hawkins said. “I just get upset when I start talking ’bout what’s going on. There ain’t no sense to it a-tall.”

  “All the ranchers here on the Diablos Range are being harassed,” Nancy began. “Naturally, we haven’t the slightest idea who the raiders are because of those hoods. However, none of the cattle are stolen. They’re just run off or scattered and left alone.”

  “That don’t make a lick o’ sense,” Chaw said.

  “I know it doesn’t,” Nancy said. “They don’t attack the ranches themselves, just crews working out on the Diablos. And that means some cowhands have been murdered.”

  “Yeah,” Rawley said. “We noticed that was what was about to happen to Jim Pauley and Duane Wheeler a bit ago.”

  “Who’s doing it?” Chaw asked. He shrugged sheepishly. “I reckon that’s a stupid question, ain’t it? Particular since nobody can see their faces.”

  Hawkins was diplomatic. “Well, Chaw, I’d allow that if we knowed who it was they’d get took care of pronto. Or if we could find where they hang out between them cowardly raids.”

  “We can’t even guess who the raiders might be, Mr Stevens,” Nancy replied. “It’s all a big mystery.”

  “Aw!” Hawkins exclaimed. “It don’t make a lick o’ sense!” He waved his glass around. “None of it!” Further conversation was interrupted by a rap on the door. The two drovers, Jim Pauley and Duane Wheeler, stepped inside. “Begging your pardon, Mr Hawkins,” Wheeler said. “But we’re giving notice.”

  “C’mon, boys!” Hawkins said. “You can’t leave me like this!”

  “We’re right sorry,” Pauley chimed in. “But we’re getting out while we’re still in one piece. We been in range wars before, Mr Hawkins, but we knowed who to shoot back at.”

  “Yes, sir,” Wheeler said. “And we had plenty o’ good cowboys on our side to help out too.”

  “Damn, boys,” Hawkins said weakly. “If you’d ...” He paused. “Hell! Lemme pay you off.” He left the living room and came back a few minutes later with some dollars. “I tally it up at thirty-five apiece since it ain’t roundup yet.”

  “That’s fine, Mr Hawkins,” Wheeler said. Hawkins handed them the money, then shook hands. “I’m obliged you stayed as long as you did.”

  “Yes, sir,” Wheeler said. “Adios, Mr Hawkins. Miss Hawkins. And to you two fellers.”

  “So long,” Rawley said.

  Hawkins’s shoulders slumped as they left. “They was the last.” He glanced up at Rawley and started to speak.

  Chaw quickly said, “We got a job waiting for us in New Mexico. We been riding clear from Benton, Texas, to get to it.”

  “It’ll be up to me, my boy, and my girl,” Hawkins said.

  “You have a son?” Rawley asked.

  “Yeah,” Hawkins answered. “He’s out to the other side o’ the spread.”

  “At any rate, are you offering us a job, Mr Hawkins?” Rawley asked.

  “Yeah,” Hawkins replied. “You’ll get thirty a month and found.” He took another drink. “I hate to admit it, but it ain’t much to offer a feller to risk his life. But that’s the best I can do right now. Naturally, I’ll put forth a big bonus when …” The old rancher paused and shrugged. “I mean if we get the herd up to Kansas.”

  “You mean when, Papa,” Nancy interjected.

  “We’ll take the jobs,” Rawley said.

  Chaw jumped up off the sofa. “Rawley! Goddamn it!”

  “Watch your language, Chaw,” Rawley said, indicating Nancy.

  “I told you my daughter can rope and ride,” Hawkins said. “I forgot to tell you she can cuss a blue streak when she’s mad enough.”

  “Papa!” Nancy exclaimed, embarrassed.

  “Are you serious about working for me, Mr Pierson?” Hawkins asked.

  “Yes, sir. And I reckon you can call me Rawley since I’m on your payroll now.”

  Chaw sighed dejectedly. “And you can call me Chaw.”

  Hawkins grinned, his craggy face creased with happiness. “Boys, I really appreciate this. Maybe with your help we can pull outta this mess.”

  Another interruption to the conversation came from the sound of a horseman arriving at the front of the house. The door opened and a slim, young man walked in. Blond, with an arrogant look about him, he stood in the middle of the room with his arms crossed. “I passed Pauley and Wheeler on the road,” he said sullenly. “Looks like we lost the last o’ the crew.”

  “Don’t worry, Tim,” Hawkins said. “These two is taking their place.”

  Rawley gave the young man a friendly smile. “I’m Rawley Pierson. This is my pard Chaw Stevens.” Nancy said, “This is my brother Tim.”

  Tim was decidedly unfriendly. “And where’d you two drag in from?”

  “Tim!” Nancy exclaimed. “That’s no way to talk to new hands under the circumstances!”

  “They saved Pauley and Wheeler’s life when they was being chased by raiders,” Hawkins said. “So you just simmer down, young man.”

  “Sure,” Tim said. “I wouldn’t want a coupla heroes mad at me.” He walked through the living room. “My day’s work is done. I’m going to town.”

  “You stay out of that Deep River Saloon,” Nancy said. “And keep away from the owner, Ed Mac-Williams.”

  Tim turned around and laughed. “Big Ed is a swell feller and I like hanging around him. Particular when it’s the only place a feller can go to relax around the Diablos.” He winked at Nancy. “Anyhow, Big Ed thinks a lot o’ you, sis. Maybe you oughta change your mind about him. He’s a rich man.”

  Nancy’s face reddened. “Big Ed MacWilliams is a tinhorn gambler and promises nothing but trouble for anyone who has anything to do with him.”

  “Your sister is right,” Hawkins said.

  “Pa,” Tim said. “I do my work around here and earn my pay. Don’t that make me a man?”

  “It does,” Hawkins admitted.

  “Then I want to be treated like a man and be allowed to have a few drinks after a hard day’s work,” Tim said. “There ain’t nothing else to do today, is there?”

  “It’s too late to round up the scattered herd,” Hawkins said. “But we’ll see to that first thing in the morning.”

  “Then I oughta be able to go to town for some relaxation and drinks then.”

  “I can’t argue you on that, son,” Hawkins said.

  Tim quickly walked out of the living room and stomped up the stairs. Rawley watched him disappear, then turned to Chaw. “I reckon we might as well move into the bunkhouse.”

  “I reckon,” Chaw said sullenly.

  “We’ll be having supper in ’bout an hour,” Nancy said. “I’ll give you a call.”

  “Thank you, Miss Nancy,” Rawley said.

  He led Chaw out of the house and over to their horses. After taking the animals to the corral and unsaddling them, they made sure they got a good feed out of the troughs inside the fenced barrier.

  Carrying their gear, the pair of friends walked across the ranch yard to the bunkhouse. They went inside and found a dozen unused bunks.

  Rawley laughed. “Looks like we got a pretty good choice of where we’re gonna sleep.”

  “Yeah,” Chaw mumbled. “This is one outfit where there ain’t no fights to be next to the stove in the winter or the windows in the summer.”

  Rawley picked a lower bunk and dropped his saddlebags and bedroll on it. “Now, Chaw, you’re gonna feel mighty good ’bout yourself after we help these folks out.”

  “The hell if I will!” Chaw sputtered. “I’ll feel like I do now—like a damn fool.”

  “Did you feel like a fool after helping out Pauley and Wheeler when them hooded bushwhackers was chasi
ng them?” Rawley asked.

  “No.”

  “Then it’s the same thing as helping out the Hawkins,” Rawley said.

  “You got a way of twisting things around, Rawley,” Chaw said. “I always come up with sensible ideas and work hard on bringing ’em around, and you spoil it all with your damn craziness.”

  Rawley untied his bedroll and spread it over the slats in the bunk. “You wanted us to give up being lawmen and get back to ranching. So we done it.”

  “I didn’t mean here, goddamn it! Right in the middle of a war with masked desperadoes!” Chaw sputtered as he worked on his own bed. “I meant at Delbert’s place in New Mexico.”

  “Delbert don’t even know we’re coming,” Rawley said. “So he ain’t gonna be mad if we don’t show up.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it no more,” Chaw said. “We’re here at a place where we’re gonna get shot for thirty dollars a month and a bonus that we prob’ly won’t ever see.”

  “Mr Hawkins is in trouble,” Rawley said. “Think on that.”

  Chaw finished his chore, then settled down on his bunk. “I didn’t say this wasn’t the right thing to do. I was saying it was a dumb thing to do.”

  Rawley stretched out. “This ain’t a bad bunk.”

  “Well, if you don’t like it there’s ten more in here to choose from,” Chaw said.

  Rawley laughed.

  A few minutes later the partners heard Nancy Hawkins’s voice calling them to supper across the ranch yard. The two new hands eagerly got up and went to the well at the back of the house. They found soap and towels waiting for them. Both washed up better than they normally would because of the young woman’s presence.

  When they went inside they could smell the fried potatoes, gravy, and steaks. Rawley looked at Chaw and winked.

  Chaw frowned, whispering, “I never said the grub wouldn’t be good.”

  Zeb Hawkins was already seated. They joined him, and Nancy sat down too. The old rancher bowed his head. “Lord,” he said. “We thank you for what we’re about to eat. Amen.” Then he looked up. “Dig in, boys!”

  The platter of well-done steaks made the rounds, followed by a bowl of boiled potatoes. This was followed by biscuits. Soon the only sound in the room was that of eating.

  Rawley looked up and caught Nancy’s eye. She smiled and looked away. Chaw stuck a forkful of steak in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

  “A penny for your thoughts, Chaw,” Hawkins said, noting his pensive mood.

  Chaw looked at him and swallowed. “I was just wondering what tomorrow would bring.”

  “There’s only one thing for certain,” Hawkins said. “There ain’t been no easy days lately on the Circle H Bar.”

  Three

  Big Ed MacWilliams sat tipped back in the chair on the porch of the Deep River Saloon. Big Ed was a large man with a thick neck and meaty shoulders. His expensive hat concealed his baldness. His jowls were close-shaven, but the heaviness of his beard was evident in the bluish tinge on his jaws.

  One of his men, Shorty Clemens, stood beside him staring out at the waning activity on the main street of Duncan, Texas. “Weather’s showing that spring is set in solid now, Boss.” He was a small, thin man with a brutal, weather-beaten face. “Shouldn’t be no more o’ them cold north winds coming in over the Diablos Range.” From the manner in which he spoke, it was obvious he was doing more than making a casual observance on the climate.

  “Yeah,” Big Ed said. “It’s my fav’rite time o’ year, Shorty.”

  Shorty laughed. “I bet.”

  “It’s when the earth comes alive again after winter,” Big Ed MacWilliams went on. He reached in his vest and pulled out a cigar, biting off the end. “It’s nature’s way of giving us a second chance.” He spat out the piece of tobacco. “That’s the way I look at it.”

  “Is that right, Boss? I figgered you looked at spring as the time the Texas cow herds would be coming through on their way up to Kansas,” Shorty pointed out. “Among other things, that is. At least for this year.”

  “Don’t get gabby;” Big Ed said with a warning tone in his voice. Then his manner softened a bit. “But on the other hand, you could be right,” the saloon owner added. He lit his cigar. “I got to admit I don’t object none to them drovers spending an advance on their pay here in the Deep River.”

  The batwing doors swung open and Hannah O’Dell joined the two-men. She was a hard-faced saloon woman who’d spent most of her life getting men drunk for her own profit and advantage. She smiled, but there was no pleasantness in her expression. “What the hell are you two up to out here?”

  “Me and Shorty are just talking ’bout the weather,” Big Ed said.

  “I doubt that!” Hannah erupted into a short, harsh laugh. “You can’t turn no Yankee dollars off with the weather.”

  Another of the Deep River Saloon’s women, Rosalie Kinnon, stepped out. “I got to get some fresh air,” she said. Like Hannah, she looked like a dance-hall girl, but with a better humor. Much younger, her face was rouged to entice customers to buy her the watered-down liquor kept just for that purpose behind the bar.

  Big Ed looked up at her. “There ain’t much going on tonight, is there?”

  “There sure ain’t,” Rosalie complained. She was freckled with reddish-brown hair. Her face, though plain, was pleasant and friendly enough to coax a drink or trip upstairs from any lonely cowboy. “A girl can’t make much money on evenings like this one.”

  “The drives is on their way,” Shorty pointed out. “It’s about time,” Rosalie said. “These winters drag on too damn long.”

  “See, Hannah?” Big Ed said, laughing. “Somebody else who appreciates nature like me and Shorty.”

  “You’re all a bunch o’ talkers,” Hannah commented caustically.

  Something caught Shorty’s eye and he stepped out on the street for a better look. He hopped back up on the porch. “Well, gals, looks like work is coming this way even if it ain’t necessarily for you two.”

  “What are you talking about?” Rosalie asked.

  “Tim Hawkins is riding up the street,” Shorty said. “Is there a poker game inside?” Big Ed asked,

  “If there ain’t, I’ll have one going directly,” Shorty said, going into the interior of the saloon.

  “Now you make Tim welcome,” Big Ed said to Rosalie. “I think he kinda likes you, don’t he?”

  “He likes both of us,” Rosalie said. “He just grabs the nearest one.”

  “Well, till the cowboys show up and I can afford to hire some more gals, it’s just you and Hannah working. So make him feel welcome,” Big Ed said.

  “Don’t we always,” Hannah remarked.

  Tim Hawkins rode up with an easy grin. He swung himself out of the saddle and hit the ground lightly. After looping the reins around the hitching rail, he stepped up on the porch, boldly eyeing the two women.

  “Looking for a good time, Tim?” Hannah asked in a sultry voice.

  “Maybe later,” Tim replied. He nodded to Big Ed. “I gotta go to the bank.”

  Big Ed laughed. “Now that’s gonna be bad news for the boys inside.”

  “Is there a game going?” Tim asked.

  “Sure is,” Big Ed said. He stood up and walked into the saloon with Tim and the two women following.

  Shorty Clemens, sitting at the poker table, waved over at Tim. “Hey, Tim Hawkins! Are you gonna give us a chance to get even?”

  “Sure, boys, hang on till I get my money,” Tim said. He and Big Ed went into the office at the back of the building. The owner knelt down at a floor safe and worked the combination. Within moments he had withdrawn a stack of bills. “There’s seven hundred dollars here,” he said.

  Tim laughed. “I didn’t know there was that much.”

  “You get so damn drunk you forget,” Big Ed said, chuckling. “Good thing you got a friend like me.”

  “I reckon,” Tim agreed, taking the money. “I appreciate you holding onto this for me, Big
Ed. If my pa found out I had it, he’d make me put it into the ranch before I could really build it into something. He’s got to promise his hands a big bonus once the herd’s in Kansas as it is.”

  “A man with poker-playing talent like you has got to get his money by what he does best,” Big Ed advised him. “Anyhow, you’ll be able to be a big help to your pa after you get a big wad o’ greenbacks for investments.”

  “Damn right!” Tim agreed. He went back outside to the table and took an empty chair. “Finish the hand, boys,” he said happily. “Then deal me in.”

  Curly Brandon, another of Big Ed’s boys, studied his cards. “I’m warning you, Tim,” he said good-naturedly. “I’m out to get even tonight. And my luck’s running high and fast.”

  “Then my best wishes to you, Curly,” Tim said. Shorty clapped Tim on the shoulder. “We know you don’t mean that!” He turned his attention back to the game. “I check to the pot.”

  “I raise a dollar,” Hank Delong said. He too was a regular at the Deep River Saloon.

  “Shit!” Shorty said, throwing in his cards.

  “I’ll see that dollar and raise another,” Curly said.

  “I can’t quit now,” Hank said, shoving in more money.

  “Beat a full house,” Curly said.

  Hank grinned. “I reckon these four jacks’ll do that just fine.”

  Now it was Curly who exclaimed, “Shit!”

  The deal shifted to a man named Joe Black. He shuffled the cards and had them cut. “We’ll try a little draw poker, boys. Ante up and open on what pleases you.”

  The cards were dealt, and for a minute each player studied the pasteboards. Shorty bet a dollar, and was matched all around.

  “Cards?” Joe asked.

  They took their cards. Tim had nothing special in his hand, but he asked for three. He ended up with a pair of sixes.

  “You opened, Shorty,” Joe said.

  “Hell, you dealt me nothing,” Shorty complained. “I’ll check to the pot.”

  “You been doing that a lot,” Curly said. “But I’ll do the same.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Hank said.

  “And me,” added Joe.