Texas Trails 1

by Patrick E. Andrews

  The dead men were completely unknown to anyone on the Diablos. Their crime earned them unmarked graves out on the stark rangeland. After the four raiders had been buried, the Diablos Range Cattlemen’s Association held a meeting. The animated conversation brought them around to a decision that at least one armed man would be kept at each ranch house from then on. Before the attack on the Circle H Bar, most of the ranchers figured that when the big show down came between them and the raiders, it would be at the cattle camp.

  As Slim Watkins of the Lazy S said during the debate, “We got ’em down to a number where they got to shit or get off the pot. They figger they can wreck the cattle drive by hitting the houses, so I reckon we’d better be ready to defend both our homes and the herd.”

  “I ain’t leaving my missus and kids alone,” Doak Timmons said. That put the idea of guarding the ranch houses into effect. “There’s gonna be either me or one o’ my boys handy at the Diamond T till this thing is over and did with.”

  “That’s something we’re all gonna be doing,” said Ted Lawson of the Flying Heart as he echoed Slim’s opinion.

  Since it was still doubtful that Rawley could put in a full day’s work at the herd, and since he’d need all his strength for the drive into Kansas, Tim reluctantly chose him to be the Circle H Ranch’s home guard. Additionally, because Tim was worried about Nancy’s safety, he wanted to make sure Rawley had a backup in case his physical strength slipped again. So the young ranch owner assigned Chaw Stevens to stay with Rawley in the bunkhouse. That meant that Jim Pauley and Duane Wheeler would stay with the herd. Tim planned on going back and forth between both places.

  Chaw and Tim were due to ride into the ranch in the late afternoon. Rawley sat in the kitchen sipping coffee and watching Nancy cook as they waited for the pair to come in from the Diablos. Nancy pulled a pan of biscuits out of the wood burning oven. She glanced up at her future husband. “It’s only about another week and a half before the cattle drive.”

  “Yeah,” Rawley said. “That’s gonna be the big test too. Once we get that herd moving, them raiders is gonna have to stop us there once and for all.”

  “Or before you start the drive,” Nancy pointed out. She handed Rawley a large carving knife. “Make yourself useful and cut some slices off that ham.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rawley said. He tended to the task, continuing to talk. “Like I told you the other night when them owlhoots tried to get us in the house. One way or the other, this range war is gonna come to an end. We’ll have it all, or they’ll have it all. There ain’t gonna be no in-between.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right about that,” Nancy agreed. She glanced out the window. “Here comes Tim and Chaw.”

  The sound of hooves grew louder until a pair of horses came to a clattering halt outside the house. Moments later, Tim Hawkins and Chaw Stevens came into the kitchen. Tim had finally relaxed his rule about the hired hands visiting the house.

  “Howdy, Miss Nancy,” Chaw said, removing his hat.

  “Hello, Chaw,” Nancy said. She pointed to the pan. “There’s a pan full of buttermilk biscuits. Your favorite, if I recall correctly.”

  “You’re sure right about that, Miss Nancy,” Chaw said happily. Then he winked at her. “But I think Rawley here likes ’em even better’n me.”

  “I know for a fact she made these for you, Chaw,” Rawley said. He hadn’t seen Chaw or Tim since the Cattlemen’s Association meeting. “How’s things out to the camp?”

  Tim poured himself a cup of coffee. “We’re all getting edgy. This situation is wrapping itself up.”

  “That’s what Nancy and I was talking about just now,” Rawley said.

  Tim took a sip of his coffee. “By the way, Pierson. I wanted to say I’m obliged for you taking care o’ Nancy the night them bushwhackers hit here. I know you was poorly and you took a chance.”

  “She got two of ’em herself,” Rawley said.

  Chaw laughed. “I reckon you two just split ’em up ’tween yourselves, huh?”

  “Just the same,” Tim said. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” Rawley said.

  Tim turned to his sister. “What’re we gonna eat with them biscuits?”

  “Smoked ham,” Nancy said. “Rawley has already sliced it up. It’s over on the platter under the cloth.”

  Tim went over and pulled a piece of the meat out and took a bite of it.

  “Tim!” Nancy protested. “That’s your supper.”

  “I ain’t eating here,” Tim said defending himself. “I’ll wolf this down, then go into town.”

  Nancy started to protest, then changed her mind. “Suit yourself,” she said. Tim left and she set the table, motioning to Rawley and Chaw to take seats at the table. After putting the food out, she joined them. “Rawley, will you say grace, please?”

  He bowed his head. “We thank you, Lord, for what we’re about to eat. Amen.”

  “Hey,” Chaw said. “That’s the first time I ever heard you doing something churchy!”

  “What’d you think of my prayer?” Rawley asked.

  “It wasn’t too bad. Maybe you’re really a preacher man at heart, Rawley.”

  Rawley winked at him. “Nancy taught me the words.”

  “I just hope they mean something to him,” Nancy said, eyeing her lover. “Now! Both of you start eating. I went to a lot of work on this meal.”

  The men ate with gusto, laughing and talking as Chaw brought Rawley up to date on what had been going on at the cattle camp. Nancy, however, remained quiet, responding only when questions or statements were spoken directly to her.

  Finally, Rawley asked, “Is there something wrong, Nancy?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Tim’s card playing is causing me a lot of worry.”

  “Is he losing heavy. Miss Nancy?” Chaw asked.

  “I think he is because he’s not bringing any money home,” she said.

  “Are you sure he ain’t using ranch money?” Rawley asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “That makes me think he’s borrowing heavily.”

  “He don’t sleep out at the camp much,” Chaw said. “And when any o’ the boys get into town, they always say they see him at the poker table in the Deep River Saloon.”

  Rawley sighed. “That means he’s playing in Big Ed’s game with Big Ed’s boys.”

  “Yeah,” Chaw agreed. “And with Big Ed’s cards too.”

  “Oh, Rawley!” Nancy exclaimed. “You don’t suppose he’s being cheated, do you?”

  “I don’t know,” Rawley said. “I never paid much attention to the card playing in the saloon.” He almost reddened when he thought of what he’d done there with Rosalie Kinnon.

  “You’re one feller that can find out,” Chaw said. He looked over at Nancy. “Rawley was perty good with the pasteboards hisself. He knows tricks and ever’thing. His pa and uncle taught him.”

  Nancy turned to her fiancé. “Darling, could you go into Duncan and watch what’s going on? If they’re cheating Tim, we’ve got to put a stop to it.”

  “You’re right about that,” Rawley said. “He could be putting the Circle H Bar straight into Big Ed MacWilliams’s hands.”

  “Want me to go with you?” Chaw asked.

  Rawley shook his head. “Stay here with Nancy. Just in case some o’ them range raiders come back.”

  “Fine with me,” Chaw said, taking another look at the good food on the table. He knew there would be enough for a snack later on. “But you be careful, hear?”

  “Ain’t I always?” Rawley asked.

  “No,” Chaw answered. “Are we going back to talking about how dumb you can be sometimes?”

  Nancy interjected. “Rawley Pierson! Don’t do anything foolish!”

  “I’ll handle things all right,” Rawley said. “Don’t worry.”

  “Maybe Chaw should go with you after all,” Nancy said.

  “It’ll be all right,” Rawley said. “Now let’s finish this delicious supper, and
I’ll tend to that little matter. The sooner I go, the sooner I get back.”

  The meal was finished, and Nancy surprised them with an apple cobbler. Chaw, after enduring the bad chuck wagon food for so long, was positively ecstatic as he savored the sweet dessert.

  When Rawley finally went out to saddle up for the ride into town, Chaw was still complimenting Nancy on her culinary skill in between bites as he ate his third helping.

  The extra amount of fresh air during the ride seemed to increase Rawley’s strength even further. By the time he crossed the town limits, he truly felt he was back to normal and that all the infection had been expelled from his system. When he dismounted and tied up his horse in front of the Deep River Saloon, he found Big Ed MacWilliams sitting on the porch as usual. But there was a stranger with him.

  “Howdy, Big Ed,” Rawley said, walking up. “Howdy, Pierson,” Big Ed said with a stony face.

  He nodded to the man beside him. “This here’s Cal Witherspoon.”

  “Howdy,” Rawley said. “I’m Rawley Pierson.”

  Witherspoon, smiling, got out of his chair and walked over to Rawley offering his hand. “I’m most happy to make your acquaintance, sir. I am a former business associate of Ed MacWilliams. I believe he has told you of my consortium’s offer to buy up ranch land in this area.”

  “He’s mentioned it, yeah,” Rawley said. “But I reckon you’ve found out that there ain’t as much as a square foot o’ the Diablos for sale, haven’t you?”

  “Indeed I have!” Witherspoon said in apparent good humor. “But perhaps someday we can all do mutually beneficial business, hey?”

  “Who knows?” Rawley remarked. “Well, pardon me. I been laid up a spell, and I got a need for a good drink o’ whiskey.”

  Rawley went inside the door, and immediately spotted the card game off to one side. He sauntered up to the gaming table and nodded to Tim. “Howdy, Boss. I come in for a drink.”

  “Is Chaw out to the ranch with Nancy?” Tim asked.

  “Yeah,” Rawley answered. “She ain’t alone.”

  “Well, I reckon you could use a coupla belts after what you been through,” Tim said. “But don’t stay long, hear?”

  “I gotcha, Boss,” Rawley said. He turned to cross the room to the bar and felt an arm slip into his. Rawley smiled. “Howdy, Rosalie.”

  “I heard you got shot up,” she said. “But you look right fine now.”

  “I need a drink,” Rawley said. “C’mon, and I’ll buy you one too.”

  The two went over to the bar, where Roy Patton served them. Rawley took a sip, enjoying the burning sensation of the liquor as he quickly swallowed it. The warmth it made in his belly was pleasurable after so long without whiskey. He glanced over at the game.

  “I heard a rumor that you’re fiancéd,” Rosalie said.

  “Yeah,” Rawley replied.

  “Is that gonna change any of your habits?” she asked.

  “It’s gonna change some,” Rawley allowed. Then he bluntly added, “Especially where you’re concerned.”

  Rosalie smiled a little sadly. “Oh, Rawley, you’ll prob’ly be like all the rest and come in here for us gals after your wife decides she’s had enough kids.”

  “Maybe,” Rawley said. He glanced over at the game. “That seems a reg’lar feature in here.”

  “Almost ever’ night,” Rosalie said. She looked down the bar to make sure that Patton was out of hearing. “But I’ll tell you, Rawley. They’re cheating Tim.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know,” Rosalie said. “Nobody has told me nothing outright, but I got a good notion just the same.”

  “Maybe I should go over and watch the game,” Rawley said.

  “And maybe you should be careful too,” Rosalie warned him. “All the players outside o’ Tim are Big Ed’s boys.”

  “I always wondered how many was on his payroll,” Rawley said.

  “You just watch out,” Rosalie said. “This here is a dangerous place for a man like you. That’s something else I learned on my own.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out,” Rawley promised her. He poured himself another drink, then casually strolled over to the game. “Who’s winning?” he asked.

  “It ain’t me,” Tim growled. He called a bet, then laid down his cards. Curly Brandon’s full house beat his three of a kind.

  Curly swept in his winnings. He glanced up at Rawley. “Care to join in, Pierson?”

  Rawley shook his head and affected an innocent grin. “No, thanks. I don’t know shit about cards, and anyhow, from the looks o’ that pot, I couldn’t buy in with a month’s wages.”

  Shorty Clemens laughed, “Anytime you want to learn poker, just look me up. I’ll teach you.” He laughed again. “O’ course I charge for poker lessons.”

  Rawley chuckled. “By golly, I’ll just bet you do.”

  “Goddamn, Pierson!” Curly said. “I can’t believe a feller borned and raised in Texas wouldn’t know no more ’bout cards than you say you do.”

  “I never played, that’s all,” Rawley said. “I was always nervous when it came to chancing my money.”

  The game went on. Rawley stayed awhile, then went back to the bar with Rosalie. He returned to the poker table a few more times, watching what was going on in a manner that seemed only mildly curious. But finally, he sat his glass down on the table and stepped back, loosening the gun in his holster.

  “You dealt that one off the bottom, Curly,” Rawley said in a loud clear voice.

  The hum of conversation at the table came to an abrupt halt. A second later, Curly responded. “I think you said something you shouldn’t have.”

  “How about if I say it this way,” Rawley offered. “You’re cheating at this here card game.”

  Now Tim leaped to his feet. “Just a goddamn minute Pierson!”

  “They’re stealing your money, boss,” Rawley said, keeping a close eye on Curly. “I don’t know how many of the rest of ’em are in on it.”

  Curly, snarling, grabbed his holster with his left hand and dragged his Colt from it with his right. “You got a big goddamn mouth, Pierson!”

  Rawley went for his own iron, a trifle behind Curly, and he instinctively ducked when the other man’s pistol blasted at him. By then he was able to return fire, quickly snapping off two shots that missed.

  Now Shorty Clemens was in on the gunplay. But he was nervous and fumbled through a slow draw. Curly fired again and missed. His next shot exploded simultaneously with Rawley’s. Curly’s went past the cowboy’s head, but Rawley’s bullet hit the card player in the throat.

  Now, with blood spurting out of Curly’s nose and ears, Shorty Clemens threw out a desperate fusillade that made Roy Patton at the bar dive for cover.

  Rawley took deliberate but quick aim and put a killing shot straight into Shorty’s chest.

  It was over.

  Two men lay dead on the floor. Hank Delong and Joe Black kept both hands on the table, giving undeniable evidence they were not going to engage in gunplay.

  Big Ed MacWilliams and Calvin Witherspoon came into the room. Big Ed was angry, but wisely said nothing as he noted Rawley standing with a drawn gun.

  “My God!” Witherspoon exclaimed. “It’s been a hell of a long time since I’ve seen anything like this.”

  Sheriff Dan Sims now joined the crowd. He had heard the shooting down at his office. He quickly sized up the situation. “Pierson, put the gun on the table.” The sheriff tensed to see what was going to happen.

  Rawley looked at Tim, who was staring incredulously at the two dead men. He knew he would have no backup there. “I’m doing like you say, Sims,” he said. “Now watch yourself.” He slowly reached over and set the pistol down as ordered.

  Now Sims pulled his pistol. “You’re under arrest for murder," he said to Rawley.

  “They drew first,” Rawley protested. “I got witnesses.”

  Sims grinned. “You ain’t got shit.”

  Nineteen

 
; Calvin Witherspoon stood at the window of his room in Mrs Malone’s boardinghouse. He felt the same nervous apprehension he’d had when he first arrived in the uncertain situation on the Diablos. The New York sharper stared out toward the horizon of the range, knowing that what he was looking at was just a small bit of a gigantic rolling prairie that would someday be worth an incalculable amount of wealth to anyone smart enough, lucky enough, or ruthless enough to gain control of it.

  His reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Yes?”

  “It’s Sheriff Sims,” came the answering voice.

  “Come in, Sheriff,” Witherspoon said.

  Sims stepped into the room. He closed the door and leaned against it, giving every indication he wasn’t exactly pleased with Witherspoon’s summons. His long, thin face wore an expression of near-insolence. “Joe Black says you want to see me.”

  “Yes, Sheriff,” Witherspoon said. “How is the prisoner doing?”

  “The prisoner? You mean Rawley Pierson?”

  Witherspoon’s smile was strained. “Yes, Sheriff. I mean exactly that. How is Pierson doing?”

  “He’s been in jail for three days,” Sims said. “He’s like any man that’s been locked up for a spell. But since you seem to need an answer, I’ll just say he’s getting restless. You didn’t call me over here to talk about Pierson, did you?”

  Witherspoon ignored the lawman’s thinly veiled sarcasm. Something about the rail-thin sheriff made him more leery of him than even of Big Ed McWilliams. Witherspoon again showed a humble, polite smile. “Actually, I just have a couple of questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind,” Sims said. “As long as it don’t take a lotta time.”

  “I shall try to be brief. Actually, I was wondering about the procedures for trying Rawley Pierson,” Witherspoon said. “It is a most sensitive situation, is it not?”

  “I reckon,” Sims answered. “I had to go up to the telegraph station at the rail junction and ask for a circuit judge to be sent here to Duncan for the trial. Lucky for us the stage is running. Both him and the prosecutor will be in town this afternoon.”

  “This is our last chance to get rid of Pierson,” Witherspoon said. “If he’s acquitted and gets on that cattle drive we can forget all the grand plans for the Diablos.”