Soft Soap for a Hard Case

by Hall, Billy

  Sam stood beside his horse, leaning across his saddle, forearms resting on the seat, hands folded, lost in thought for several long minutes. He turned to the other three. ‘With that many men and teams workin’, how long do you reckon it’ll be before they finish and shut off the water?’

  The others pondered the question thoughtfully for quite a while. ‘To have it completely built, a month at least,’ Oz said.

  ‘More like two, I’d guess,’ Bart disagreed.

  ‘I would say two,’ Eduardo supported his brother.

  ‘But he’s only a couple days away from stoppin’ the flow of the crick,’ Sam said. ‘I’m almost certain Grede’s not involved, unless he’s just loanin’ Russell money. I think Oz and I’ll take a little trip. When we get back, we’ll see if we can shoot a little hole in a dam.’

  Oz’s eyebrows shot up questioningly. Bart and Eduardo looked at each other, equally at a loss to make sense of Sam’s words. Bart asked, ‘How come you don’t think Grede’s involved?’

  ‘I asked him,’ Sam said.

  That raised questions in the faces of all three of the others, but Sam declined to answer, or to appear to notice. He simply mounted his horse and rode out, heading back toward the H Bar V. The rest followed, knowing Sam would explain his plan in due time – if he had one.

  CHAPTER 15

  ‘Who all’s here?’ Sam asked.

  Hiram Spalding looked around the oversized front room of his sprawling ranch house. It was tightly crowded in spite of its size. Every chair was filled. Every bit of space was filled with someone sitting on the floor or leaning against the wall. Even the rest of the floor was mostly filled with men sitting cross-legged. Some chewed on match stubs, a few held steaming mugs of coffee. All eyes kept focusing on Sam, even before he spoke.

  ‘Most of the boys from my ranch and several others,’ Hiram responded. ‘Half a dozen are homesteaders.’

  ‘Rattle off all our names, then see if he can remember ’em all,’ suggested Ty Henley. As he spoke, he point a finger at Sam. It looked like a sliver jutting from the end of an arm that neared the size of a rail-road tie.

  A burst of laughter rippled around the room, relaxing the atmosphere.

  ‘I might have a problem with that,’ Sam rejoined. ‘I can’t remember my own name, some days.’

  ‘Let’s get down to business.’ The strident voice of ‘Boiling Bob’ Blanchard slapped against the budding levity and squelched it instantly. ‘I gotta get up and get some work done in the morning. I ain’t got time to sit around jawin’ all night.’

  Rita Blanchard frowned and spoke softly into her husband’s ear. He fell silent, but his face reflected a roiling impatience, nonetheless.

  ‘I ’spect we’d just as well get to what I asked you all here for,’ Hiram conceded. ‘We seem to have us a problem with Russell’s outfit wantin’ to take over and run the rest of us out of the country.’

  ‘You’re big enough he ain’t gonna run over you,’ the soft voice of Lafe Sorenson replied.

  ‘Not for now, anyway,’ Hiram acknowledged. ‘But that ain’t true for any of the rest of you. And if he picks your outfits off, one at a time, he’ll be big enough to take me on as well. Besides, I’m too much of a neighbor to just sit by and watch it happen to any of you.’

  ‘What’s Russell doin’ up there on Spring Crick?’ another homesteader asked. ‘I see a cloud o’ dust up there pertneart every day for over a month. He bustin’ sod or somethin’?’

  It was Sam who responded. ‘He’s building a big dam across the whole draw, to dam up Spring Crick.’

  Deathly silence fell across the room. Ty Henley spoke first. ‘That’d put me outa business. I’m on Spring Crick, just a couple miles down from the Bond place.’

  ‘Me too, about six miles farther down,’ another homesteader joined in. ‘Without that crick, I got no live water on my place.’

  ‘Ain’t that on government range?’ another probed.

  Sam nodded. ‘Yeah, it’s government range. Russell runs cattle on it, but he’s got no title to it.’

  ‘Then how can he put a dam there?’

  ‘ ’Cause he can, and who’s gonna stop him?’

  ‘Somebody better put a stop to it.’

  ‘There’s enough of us, we could ride over there and offer to let him stop what he’s doin’, or get tarred and feathered and rode outa the country on a rail.’

  ‘He’s got a bunch of gun hands hired. We might outnumber ’em, but I ain’t sure we’d win against ’em.’

  ‘We could try.’

  ‘That’d cause a range war, sure’s anything.’

  ‘But if we don’t do somethin’, he can do the same thing with Clear Crick and Cottonwood Crick, and then we’re all outa business.’

  The conversations ran around in circles for several minutes, offering no solutions, but pretty clearly defining the issues and problems. When it had gone on long enough, Sam spoke up.

  ‘I can deal with the dam. Oz, Bart, Eddie, and I will do that. But what happens afterward is where we need to be united.’

  ‘How you gonna deal with a dam?’ Boiling Bob interrupted, his voice dripping with skepticism. ‘You can’t go over there and start shoveling. I seen that thing they’re buildin’. It’d be like movin’ a mountain to get it outa there.’

  ‘I’ll take care of that part,’ Sam assured him. ‘But when I do, Russell’s gonna come bustin’ over here with every gun he’s got. If we stick together, we can take care of him and his gunslingers all at one time. If we don’t, he’ll run us all outa the country, one at a time.’

  ‘Or kill us all, one at a time,’ Lafe Sorenson said softly. Then he added, ‘Just like he did Ralph Bond. And Tennessee Sneed. And Dick Coggins.’

  ‘And Al Tenner,’ another voice added.

  Silence fell across the room, as the assembled group remembered those of their neighbors who had met sudden and suspicious deaths.

  ‘So we obviously gotta do somethin’,’ Ty Henley summarized the collective mindset. ‘I guess it’s up to you to tell us what.’

  Sam nodded. ‘The night of the fifteenth – that’s almost two weeks away – I’ll sorta make the dam disappear. By sunup, I’m bettin’ Russell and his whole outfit’ll head straight for Kate Bond’s place, hell-for-leather. If all of you are already set up a ways ahead of there, well hidden until my signal, and all in the right place, we can have his whole outfit surrounded and out-gunned. When they see the setup, they’ll give it up. Hopefully we can do it without havin’ to fire a shot.’

  ‘You’re dreamin’,’ Boiling Bob retorted. ‘Them’s professional gunfighters.’

  ‘That’s exactly why Sam’s right,’ Lafe Sorenson responded instantly. ‘If they were all hotheaded cowboys, they might try to shoot their way out. Professional gunfighters know better than to buck the odds when the deck’s stacked too heavy against ’em. They’ll back down quick.’

  A few seconds of silence followed, then voices exploded from all corners of the room, some enthusiastically in favor of the plan, some hesitantly so, some flatly opposed.

  ‘Why don’t we just let the law handle it?’ Sonia Sorenson asked.

  Her question silenced the room until her own husband responded. ‘The only thing the law could do is either raise a posse and face Russell head-on, on his own ground, or call in the army. Facing him on his own ground would be an all-out gun battle, and a lot of people would get killed. Calling in the army would take months to get authorized, as long as nobody’s under siege or anything. By then, I’ll be dried out, along with all of you that live on Spring Crick, and Russell will already be workin’ on the next crick.’

  Another long silence ensued. It was, again, Lafe Sorenson who said, ‘When do you want us at your place?’

  His wife, Sonia, visibly gasped when he said it. She stared at him as if she had just been, somehow, betrayed, but she said nothing. She pressed her lips into a thin line and stared at the floor. Lafe did his best to ignore her reaction.


  ‘He ain’t gonna ignore that when he gets home,’ Sam thought.

  Aloud he said, ‘We’ll need everybody’s help a few nights before. Then the night we take care of the dam, we’ll get set up before daylight where the road goes through that cut about a mile south of the Bond place. Even if they decide to hit here, or one of the other places first, they’ll almost sure come that way.’

  ‘Are you gonna be there?’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ Sam promised, ‘before any of the festivities begin.’

  Silent nods from most of the men present signified their commitment. Sam didn’t know these men, but he knew a hundred like them, spread across the rough and ready west. He knew that nod of agreement was more dependable and binding than any piece of paper sworn in a court of law.

  That the matter was settled was indicated almost immediately, when one of Spalding’s hands said, ‘Hey, Ty! Let’s see you arm wrestle Bart.’

  A dozen voices immediately offered enthusiastic support for the idea. As if he had been awaiting the moment, Eduardo carried a small table in and set it in the middle of the room. It was no sooner in place than two chairs were placed across from each other.

  Bart looked at Ty. Ty shrugged and rose to his feet. He was every bit as tall as Bart, and boasted shoulders at least as broad. His hands appeared bigger than Bart’s, but other than that the two appeared evenly matched.

  At once quiet bets were placed between friends all around the room. Bart and Ty sat down facing each other and placed their elbows on the table. When they had their hands gripped together in a way that suited both, they nodded. Hiram stood with his hand atop theirs for a moment, then jerked his hand away. ‘Go!’ he said.

  Instantly each man strained against the grip of the other, hoping a slightly quicker reaction time would provide a quick win. It worked for neither. For each, it was like trying to push the trunk of a tree over. Muscles bulged. Faces reddened. Ty’s shirt sleeve ripped abruptly, unable to stretch far enough to house the giant muscle within it. The eyes of both men bulged with the effort. Jaw muscles bunched as teeth gritted. They strained against each other in silence, exerting every ounce of their immense strength. Their knotted fists failed to move in either direction.

  Every eye in the room was riveted on those two knotted fists. Unseen, Camilla Spalding slipped up behind Bart. She suddenly poked him with an index finger in both ribs, and yelled, ‘Boo!’

  Bart yelled as if he’d been struck by a rattlesnake. He leaped from the chair, sending it flying backward. It narrowly missed Camilla as she swiftly sidestepped, knowing exactly the reaction her brother would have.

  Bart turned menacingly toward his little sister. She saucily stuck her tongue out at him, then turned and ran.

  A delayed roar of laughter erupted as the assembled group realized what had happened. Hiram shook his head ruefully. He addressed his wife. ‘Eva, would you do something with that daughter of yours?’

  ‘My daughter?’ Eva retorted. ‘She gets that from your side of the family, not from mine.’

  The retort stirred a second round of laughter. One man’s call for the two to resume their contest went unanswered and unheeded. The moment of levity passed and all bets were considered canceled. Each one remembered the reason for their being there. Conversations were muted and few as they all filed from the room and mounted their horses for the ride home.

  CHAPTER 16

  ‘These mules are sure slow.’

  Sam smiled tightly. The strain he felt was betrayed by the rigidity of his shoulders, the set of his jaw. ‘That’s why I’m usin’ ’em,’ he responded.

  ‘A wagon would’ve worked just as well.’

  ‘Do you want to ride in a wagon with that much dynamite?’

  Oz shrugged. ‘We could’ve padded it with a lot of straw.’

  ‘We could’ve,’ Sam agreed. ‘I’d rather trust the mules. They’re awful sure-footed.’

  ‘They are that,’ Oz agreed. It was obvious his agreement was reluctant. ‘If I was movin’ that slow, I’d be sure-footed too.’

  Six mules wended their way along the side of the hill. They were strung together with a single line, so they moved single-file. Five of the six were each loaded with four cases of dynamite. They were lashed into place with carefully knotted diamond hitches, that either Sam or Oz checked every hour or so. The sixth mule had a different pack, containing enormous coils of black wick and caps.

  ‘Are you sure you can get this all to go off at the same time?’ Oz asked for at least the dozenth time.

  Sam smiled again, through the dust and dirt that coated them both. ‘It’ll go,’ he assured his friend.

  ‘Where’d you learn to use this stuff anyway?’

  ‘I worked in a mine for a month once.’

  ‘Just a month?’

  ‘That was enough.’

  ‘Didn’t like dynamite that much, huh?’

  ‘Didn’t mind the dynamite. I did mind bein’ underground. I promised the guy I’d help him for a month. I swore to God if I survived that month I’d never go underground again till I do it face up, with somebody pattin’ me in the face with a shovel.’

  ‘If one o’ them mules stumbles, that may be before you think.’

  Sam smiled more broadly. ‘If one of those mules stumbles, neither one of us will need burying.’

  ‘Whatd’ya mean?’

  ‘I mean what’s left of us will be scattered far enough nobody’s gonna gather up the pieces anyway.’

  ‘I always sorta wanted to go out layin’ in a soft bed with my hands folded nice an’ peaceful across my chest.’

  ‘You want a flower in your hands too?’

  ‘A half pint o’ whiskey’d be better.’

  ‘Why? You couldn’t drink it then.’

  ‘Yeah, but it’d be nice to know I had it along, just in case.’

  ‘I always thought I’d rather have a box o’ bakin’ soda.’

  Oz looked at his friend quizzically. ‘Bakin’ soda? What for.’

  ‘Bakin’ soda works pretty good for puttin’ out fires. I thought maybe a box of it might at least give me a little space.’

  Oz snorted, then chuckled. ‘Maybe you’d best have your whole casket filled with it, then.’

  ‘Good idea. That’ll be your job, to make sure that’s done.’

  ‘The Indians do that.’

  ‘What, use bakin’ soda?’

  ‘No, not that. But they bury their dead with what they figger they might need in the next life. They bury ’em with a bow and arrows, or whatever. I heard of one, once, that they buried with his horse.’

  ‘If you get to take with you whatever’s buried with you, I’d rather have a woman.’

  ‘Someplace in Asia or somewhere they do that, too. They build a great big fire to burn up the dead guy’s body. His widow’s supposed to throw herself into the fire and burn up with him.’

  ‘What if she don’t wanta do that?’

  ‘Then somebody has to kill her and throw her into the fire. That way they figure he’ll have her for a wife in the next life.’

  ‘Really? I wonder if it works.’

  ‘Don’t guess anyone’s come back to let ’em know. I doubt it. It’d save havin’ to provide for the widow, though.’

  ‘I wonder if she’d think it was heaven, if she was still stuck with the same man.’

  ‘Not if he looked like you, she wouldn’t.’

  ‘I sorta noticed that you’re still batchin’ too.’

  Oz abruptly brought the conversation back from its escapist banter. ‘What are we gonna do when we get there?’

  Sam’s instant reply indicated the thought he had already given to the matter. ‘There’s a thick bunch of timber just over the ridge from where they’re buildin’ the dam. I figured we could hide the stuff there, then get the rest of the boys to come help.’

  ‘You gonna do it all in one night?’

  ‘Nope. I wanta get everything in place in one night. Then we’ll cover up our tracks, and wait
till the right time.’

  ‘How you gonna keep ’em from noticin’?’

  ‘I’ll show you. I think I got it figured out.’

  They rode mostly in silence the rest of the day. They talked little when they turned into their bedrolls for the night, and were up before daylight. They loaded the increasingly reluctant mules, grateful it would be the last day on the trail.

  The sun was just dipping beyond the western mountains when they stopped in a finger of heavy timber. Although they knew they were just across the ridge from the growing earthen dam, they heard no activity. ‘You don’t s’pose they’re done, do you?’

  ‘I doubt it. Just knocked off for the day, I’d guess.’

  ‘Let’s have a look-see.’

  Together they worked their way to the top of the ridge and looked over. The dam stretched clear across the narrow valley, more than thirty feet high in the center. The center had been filled in, so that the stream’s flow of water was halted. Sam’s jaw muscles bulged with the clenching of his teeth. Fire flashed from his eyes as he stared at the dry streambed below the dam.

  Silently the pair descended the slope to the timber. ‘They’re still workin’ to make it higher,’ Oz observed. ‘The slips and stuff are all still there.’

  Sam nodded. Gruffly he said, ‘Let’s get this stuff taken care of.’

  They spread a tarpaulin on a flat spot of ground and stacked the cases of explosives on it. They covered it with tarpaulins and tied them securely enough to ensure even a violent thunderstorm would not allow them to get wet.

  When they finished, they mounted their horses. Sam picked up the lead line for the mules. ‘Let’s get some shut-eye. We’ll see if we can have as many guys as possible here at sundown tomorrow.’

  Silently they rode away into the gathering darkness. Sam wavered minute by minute between conflicting emotions: anger at the dam and its effects boiled within him; weariness nagged at his body; relief flooded through him that they had the dynamite transported safely. Excitement at the prospect of what lay ahead made him tingle with anticipation. Eclipsing all of it was thoughts of Kate, still not knowing he was back in the country. He ached to go to her, but his pride held him firmly in check.