by Edward Gates
“Would you mind if I catch a ride out to his ranch with you?”
“Don’t mind at all. It’d be nice to have the company. I’ll meet you at the Castle Hotel around noon for some chow.”
“Noon at the Castle Hotel. I’ll be there.”
Charlie checked into a room at the Castle Hotel and stashed his valise. He immediately went to the closest mercantile and purchased a bedroll, a saddlebag and a Henry rifle, along with a couple hundred rounds of ammunition. He browsed through other equipment and made mental notes on what he’d need on the road. He’d buy those later, after he got a horse.
At noon, he met Horace at the hotel restaurant. The driver was already eating.
“Got me a beefsteak, Deputy. Pull up a chair. You wanna beefsteak?” Before Charlie could answer, Horace hollered across the restaurant at a waiter who scowled at him and slowly made his way to the table. Charlie sat down just as the waiter got there.
“Bring this Arkansas lawman a beefsteak,” Horace ordered. The waiter looked at Charlie for confirmation.
Charlie nodded. “Sure. I’ll have what he’s got.”
After lunch, Charlie and Horace headed west to Warren Dickey’s horse ranch. Along the way, Charlie told the story of how he got an appointment to the Rangers. He also told the tale of Texas Jack and how Jack recommended he see Mister Dickey.
Horace listened politely to Charlie’s ramblings, but when he mentioned Texas Jack, the old man snapped a wide-eyed look at him. “You tellin’ me you know Texas Jack Cable?”
Charlie nodded.
“And he ain’t dead?”
“No, he ain’t dead. He’s living in Austin.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. We all heard he got himself blowed up at Shiloh.”
Charlie nodded. “Well, that part’s true. He did get blown up. But he’s alive. Lost his left arm and crippled his left leg, but he’s doing okay.”
Horace began to laugh uncontrollably. In between breaths he sputtered, “Boy… is Mister Dickey ever goin’ to be glad to see you.”
Not getting the humor, Charlie stared at the laughing Horace. “Why?”
When Horace controlled his outburst, he turned to Charlie. “Texas Jack owes Mister Dickey a whole lot of money.” Again, the laughter started and continued as they drove through the prairie. Charlie just stared forward, wondering what Jack had gotten him into.
When they arrived at the ranch, the afternoon sun was approaching the western horizon. Charlie was impressed by the large arch of juniper logs that announced the entrance to the Double-D Ranch. A split-rail fence jutted out about fifty yards on either side of the log entrance.
He gazed out over the range as they drove up the road to the house. There were horses everywhere… thousands of them. When they reached the large single-story ranch house of stone and timber, Horace introduced Charlie to Warren Dickey before driving off to the barn.
Warren Dickey was a tall, burly man. Charlie stood around five feet eleven with his boots on. Warren was two, maybe three inches taller, with broad shoulders, large trunk and thick dark brown hair. Charlie guessed him to be in his mid- to late thirties.
“Texas Jack said to see you about getting a horse, Mister Dickey.”
Warren’s eyes lit up and he stared sternly at Charlie.
“Texas Jack, huh? He’s alive?”
Charlie nodded.
“That bastard didn’t send you here with a sack of gold, did he?” Before Charlie could answer, Warren laughed and gave a playful slap on Charlie’s good shoulder. “No, I s’pose he didn’t. Hell, I thought he got killed in the war.”
“He was badly wounded. That war took his left arm and crippled his left leg. But he’s doing a little better now.”
Warren shook Charlie’s hand and guided him toward the main house. “I s’pose we all lost something in that damn war. Come on in the house and set down for a spell. Too late to head back anywhere. You can stay here tonight and we’ll pick ya out a mount in the morning. You a drinkin’ man, Turlock?”
“I’ve been known to have one occasionally.”
“Good. Let’s go in here where we can talk.” He led Charlie into a room that appeared to be his office and walked right to a sideboard holding several decanters. He poured two glasses of whiskey and gave one to Charlie. Charlie sipped it and was pleased to see that it was a good smooth bourbon instead of the rotgut they sold in the bars.
Warren sat in a large chair behind his desk and motioned for Charlie to sit. “What happened to your arm?”
Charlie sat on a small sofa opposite Warren’s desk. “I got in a fight in Austin a little while ago. Fella threw a knife at me and sliced my shoulder open.”
“D’ya kill him?”
“Almost. I shot him, but he’ll live.”
Warren sipped his whiskey. “Tell me about Jack and where he might be found.”
Charlie sat back in the sofa and took a sip of his whiskey. “Tell me about the money Jack owes you.”
Warren paused for a moment and stared at Charlie. Then he smiled. “All right. I’ll go first.” He leaned back in his chair and placed his feet on his desk. “About six years ago Jack took twenty-two head of my best Morgans out to that bunch of roughnecks he called Rangers. He give me a letter of credit signed by the Army’s procurement officer. I’d done business with Jack before, and those Army credit letters were always good. He was honest and a good friend. But then that damn war broke out and that letter of credit wasn’t worth spit. Jack owes me two thousand dollars. I mean to collect on it.”
“It wasn’t Jack’s fault the war broke out.”
“It weren’t mine, neither. But I’m the one that’s out horses that I ain’t been paid for.”
Charlie stifled a smile. “Well, Jack is in Austin. He’s a cripple working at a bar for room and board. I can tell ya that he ain’t got two dollars, much less two thousand.”
Warren let out a deep sigh and took a sip of his whiskey.
Charlie leaned forward on the sofa. “Horace says you supply mounts for the army. That true? You still have that letter?”
“I got it somewhere, but they won’t pay on it. I already talked to ‘em about it.”
“Next time they come to pick horses, tell them they won’t get any unless they first pay on those twenty-two horses they bought six years ago.”
Warren shook his head. “Nah. They’ll just get horses somewhere else.”
“Where?” Charlie asked. “Where else would they go? Is there anyone else in this part of Texas with a spread as big as yours? Horace tells me no one runs as many horses as you.” Warren didn’t answer. “Call their bluff. Tell them to go ahead and try to find horses somewhere else. Tell them that if they pay for the twenty-two Morgans, you’ll give them a special price for the horses they want this time. They’ll have to come back to you.”
Warren sat forward, apparently thinking about what Charlie suggested. He nodded and looked at the younger man. “You know? You got a point. Something like that just might work.” He laughed and stood. “Yep, that just might work.”
Warren led Charlie to a dining room, where they ate a nice evening meal. Afterwards, Charlie was shown to a guest room where a large oak double bed was waiting for him. It was the softest and most comfortable bed he had been in since arriving in this era. Before long he was sound asleep.
68
Road to the Frontier
When Charlie woke the next morning, the sun was already up. He dressed and went outside and met Horace, who was on the porch waiting for him.
“Well, it’s about time. Sun’s been up two hours already. You Arkansas lawmen always sleep the day away?”
“It’s that bed. It was so comfortable I slept like a log. That was the best sleep I’ve had in a long while.”
“Come on with me. Mister Dickey pulled a gelding for you. He’s got him in the pen behind the barn.”
A black horse stood in the fenced corral behind the barn. Charlie stopped and stared. The gelding was jet black and see
med to shine in the morning sunlight. A white blaze shone right between his eyes. “I’ve never seen a horse so magnificent.”
As he slowly approached, the horse seemed to be as interested in Charlie as he was in it.
“He’s a cross between a Morgan and an Arabian,” Warren said as he walked from the barn to join them.
“He’s beautiful.”
“That he is.” Warren stood next to Charlie as they admired the horse. “He’s yours if you want him.”
“Are you kidding?” Charlie said with excitement. Then he paused. Something didn’t seem right. He turned to Warren. “Wait a minute. You got thousands of horses here. This has got to be one of your best. Why offer him to me?”
Warren laughed. “You’re right. He’s special, all right. He’s a good horse. Fast as hell. I’ll make you a good deal.”
“Why?”
“Well, first off, you told me where Jack was. Jack was a good friend who I’ve known for a number of years. Broke my heart when I heard he got himself killed. Now that you told me he’s alive and where he is, I’m gonna go pay him a visit.” Warren stroked the horse’s neck. “I thank you for that.”
“Why? What are you going to do to him? I already told you he ain’t got any money.”
“I know Jack ain’t got two thousand dollars. He never had two nickels to rub together at one time in his life. It’ll just be good to see him again. Secondly, you gave me a good idea last night on how to collect that fee. Got me thinking. And I come up with some good ideas, thanks to you.” Warren looked at Charlie. “You going through Fort Chadbourne on your way west?”
Charlie nodded. “Yeah, I am. Why? Does that matter?”
Warren smiled real big. “Good. This horse is named Bandit. There’s a commander at Chadbourne that was the old hardcase that wouldn’t pay up on those twenty-two head. His name’s Colonel Biggins… J.T. Biggins. He really wanted ol’ Bandit, here. I told him the price was twenty-five hundred dollars.” Warren let out a laugh. “Ol’ J.T. just turned on a huff and walked off. I told him I’d shoot this horse before I ever saw him sitting on it and he could go to hell.” Warren paused for a moment and let out a little laugh. “I’d love to see the look on his face when you go ridin’ into his fort on this horse.”
Charlie smiled. “How much?”
“You got a saddle?”
“Nope. Nothing.”
“One hundred dollars and I’ll throw in a saddle and tack. He’s five years old and saddle-wise. Still got a bit of spirit in him, but he’s a good horse. He’ll give ya whatever ya need.”
Charlie shook Warren’s hand. “You got a deal. And I’ll be sure to let you know about the look on the commander’s face.”
They both laughed.
“You do that. And be sure to tell him what ya paid for him.” Warren winked and a smile crept to one corner of his mouth.
Charlie paid Warren for the horse while Horace saddled him. Charlie checked the saddle and tightened all the straps. He shook Warren’s hand one more time. “I have to head back to Dallas. All my belongings are there.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mister Turlock. Enjoyed doing business with you,” Warren said. “You take care of Bandit, now.”
Charlie smiled. “I’ll do that. Give my best to Jack.” He tapped his heels to Bandit’s sides and they began their trip back to Dallas.
The next morning, Charlie checked out of the hotel, picked up Bandit at the livery and went to the Mercantile. He acquired the rest of his gear and bought provisions for his trip. Once they were all stowed in his saddlebags or tied in the bundle of his bedroll, he headed toward Fort Worth.
The ride to Fort Worth seemed to go by quickly. He stopped at a few settlers’ homes for a brief rest and to get some water. They made Fort Worth before sunset and Charlie boarded Bandit for the night while he found a room above one of the saloons. The next morning, he was off to Weatherford.
The all-day trip to Weatherford gave Charlie a chance to reflect. Nothing much to do riding a horse across miles and miles of open prairie. He thought of his father and of his girlfriend, Angel. He could picture her tall, thin frame and long auburn hair, but the details of her face escaped him. He wondered why. A touch of homesickness floated through his thoughts. He hated his father, but still missed him. He thought he loved Angel and was excited about his relationship with her. But he didn’t miss her. In fact, he hardly thought of her at all.
He had only been away from his home in the year 2275 for just over a year. He’d come a long way and learned so much in that year. Yet, here, because of his time jumps, he had covered just about five years.
He patted Bandit’s neck. “Can’t do that anymore, can I, Bandit? Physically I’m only twenty-three years old, but that was based on me being in 1863. According to the year 1867, I should be twenty-seven. I guess we’ll just have to play it day by day from now on. No more jumps. I’d have to leave you behind. Don’t want to do that.”
It was getting dark by the time he reached Weatherford. The town appeared much the same as it had when he was here with the freight wagons in 1862. He stabled Bandit for the night and found a room.
The next day Charlie went to the general store and ordered coffee, bacon, salt, flour and beans. To make conversation the clerk asked Charlie if he was traveling.
“Yep. Heading to Chadbourne.”
“Jez you?” the clerk asked.
Charlie nodded and noticed the clerk look away. “Why? Is that a problem?”
“Well, no. It’s just that most folk making that trip travel in groups. If you go alone, you should probably cold camp. There’s Indians running about out that way. Fire would just tell ‘em where ya are.”
Charlie remembered Ben and Jack’s warning to find someone to travel with. “…safety in numbers.” He began to get a little worried.
“You know of any army detachments or freight wagons heading out toward Chadbourne?”
“A group of soldiers left here yesterday heading out that way. A supply wagon usually goes out there the end of the week. You can stay here for a few days and tag along with them, if’n ya like.”
Charlie thought about it. He’d lose three days if he stayed here waiting for the freight wagons to leave. But it was only three days on a marked road to Fort Chadbourne. Surely there wouldn’t be any trouble along the road. But then again… what if there was?
He looked at the clerk. “Forget the order. Just get me some canned peaches, johnny-cakes and jerky. I’ll take some candy sticks and a few apples. If I go, I’ll camp cold.”
He saddled Bandit and stowed the provisions before riding west out of Weatherford. They travelled about five miles before he stopped. The silhouettes of Weatherford’s buildings were no longer visible on the horizon behind him. Ahead of him lay nothing but open prairie for as far as he could see. Not even a single hill broke the flat plain landscape. A shudder of fear shot up his spine. This was the most alone he had ever felt. If anything happened to him out here it would be days before anyone would find him… if they found him at all. He looked behind him at the road back to Weatherford, then again at the endless road ahead of him. He let out a deep sigh.
“Well, Bandit. What do you think?”
69
Fort Chadbourne
Fighting the urge to turn back to Weatherford and wait for the supply wagons, Charlie nudged Bandit forward. The road to Fort Chadbourne was little more than a well-worn path of wagon tracks. There were no ranches and few, if any, settlers west of Weatherford -- nothing but flat open range for as far as he could see. The horizon was occasionally broken by a few distant trees, but other than that, there was nothing.
He alternated between riding Bandit and walking alongside him. Whenever they came across a water source, they’d rest for a while and Charlie would share an apple with his horse before they got back on the trail. He knew they were moving forward, but the landscape was so vast and unchanging that it felt like they were standing still.
When evening shrouded t
he trail in darkness, Charlie stopped and hobbled Bandit for the night. He rolled out his bedroll and set out a rope around it. Dave had told him it would keep the snakes away. He didn’t believe him, but, then again, he had never been bothered by a snake and was not about to put that adage to a test tonight.
The blackness of the night was frightening. He was tempted to light a fire but feared an ambush from Indians. Without a fire, he feared the nocturnal creatures that might seek him out. He hardly slept.
At first light the pair headed west, once again following the trail. Charlie was anxious to cover as much ground as he could. There would be at least another night out on this prairie before he’d reach the cover and comfort of the fort.
The second day was much like the first. With the landscape so unchanging, the more he rode, the more it looked like he wasn’t going anywhere. Late in the afternoon, they came across a small stream. A few trees and patches of sweet prairie grass dotted the banks of the creek. Charlie let Bandit drink and graze while he stretched out on the ground in the shade. He was comfortable and glad to be out of the saddle. He knew he had a few more hours of daylight and could put some more miles behind him, but this seemed like the perfect place to spend the night.
Charlie set his bedroll out along the creek in between two trees and unsaddled Bandit. He was sitting in the shade eating a can of peaches and surveying the surrounding area when he saw riders along the horizon. He counted five on horseback. Even though they were far away, he could tell they were Indians. One horse was dragging a litter that appeared to have the carcasses of a few animals on it. Charlie assumed they were taking it back to feed their tribe.
“Hunting party,” he whispered to himself. He feared being discovered, so he gently pulled Bandit into the shade and tied his reins to a tree. He watched them ride off to the west and eventually disappear over the horizon. His contentment in this little oasis was shattered. He knew that in order to get to Fort Chadbourne he’d have to ride in the same direction as those Indians.