Buck and the Widow Rancher (2006) (8 page)

Stopping at the general store, Buck helped the clerk load the boxes and barrels that Matilda had ordered. Once seated and with the reins in hand, she glanced at the big cowboy and shook her head.

‘Buck, I think it would be best if you didn’t ride with me. Until I can figure out what to do anyway, I think I’ll follow Hugh’s suggestion. I know,’ she added quickly, ‘you’ve been trying to help, but I just can’t take any more. Once the herd is sold and I can pay off Hugh and Hubbard I’m sure things will return to the way they were. I’ll write to Uncle Fish and tell him you did as good as you could, but …’ She let the sentence fade away unfinished.

‘If that’s what you think is best, well, I can’t argue with you.’ Touching his hat brim, he smiled up at the woman before walking around to where his horse was tied. Back in the saddle he considered. ‘Well, horse, I’d say we’ve been fired. First time that’s happened in a long time,’ he muttered, reining about and walking the black back toward the restaurant. It’d been long enough since breakfast to start thinking about lunch.

Sitting in the restaurant waiting for his meal to come, he considered what he could do. He didn’t believe the chances of Matilda’s world coming back to normal were that good. Somehow, since her husband’s death, trouble had been
piling up on the young woman. Selling the herd and
cleaning
up the debts left by the man wouldn’t change anything. There was something else going on and he didn’t see what he could do about it.

Blowing the steam off a final cup of coffee, he suddenly thought of the old sheepherder. Damn, he thought, I should have seen how he’s doing. Leaving a few coins on the table and slapping his hat on, he mounted the black and rode down the street to the doctor’s office.

‘Nope,’ the man coming out of the office door carrying a large cracked leather bag told him, when he asked if the doctor was in, ‘I’m on my way out. That Foley woman is about due to add to the family. She is one woman who
doesn’t
believe in wasting time; when she says the baby is coming, its coming.’ The doctor’s words came as he climbed into a buggy and without glancing at Buck flicked the reins on his horse.

‘I’m asking after that sheepherder who was shot.’ Buck had to haul around and ride along side the moving buggy.

‘Oh, well. He’s resting. His boy came and took him a day or so ago. Given lots of rest, he’ll be OK. He’s a tough old coot. Strong people, those sheepherders. Go on, Nell.’ He snapped the reins on the back of the horse putting it into a gallop as Buck pulled up.

Rather than come into the sheep camp in the dark, Buck made another dry camp and spent the night quietly
watching
the stars wheel overhead. Late summer evenings in the high desert country were special. Soon after the sun went down, cool breezes usually came up, spreading the odors left by the day’s heat on what plant life there was. Even the
cooling
rocks added to the evening aroma. Shoveling dirt over his small camp-fire and giving his horse a hatful of water, Buck spread out his bedroll and, lying with his head pillowed by his saddle, he relaxed and watched the sky.

Too early for the moonrise, the sweep of stars was
magnificent.
In the clear air, the bigger lights looked almost close enough to touch if he only could reach a little further. Far off the call of a coyote brought his attention back to earth and for a while he listened to the night sounds before sleep overtook him.

The sun hadn’t reached its highest point when Buck finally reached the Basques’ camp. The flock had been moved a little further east and he only had to follow the trail left by the wagon to find the new camp. Stopping in plain view but outside a bit, he called out his hello. Remembering how the young Navarro blamed him for his pa’s wound, Buck thought it best to declare his peacefulness.

‘Well, come on in.’ The return call wasn’t strong,
obviously
from the old man himself.

‘Good morning, Mr Navarro,’ Buck called, as he rode slowly in to find the old sheepherder lying on a pad of
blankets
, his back propped up against a wagon wheel. A big smile of welcome greeted the rider.

‘And it is a beautiful morning when one can welcome a visitor to his camp. I remember you. You’re the rider my son did an injustice to. Making you leave our camp did not show our hospitality. Again, I apologize for that. Will you share a cup of coffee with me?’

Climbing down and ground reining his horse, Buck nodded as the old man pointed to a nearby piece of log. ‘Seat yourself. I’m afraid I can’t reach the coffee pot and the extra cup, so you’ll have to take it. I’m still not moving around too well.’

‘I’m damn glad to see you out of that doctor’s bed. Just how bad were you hit?’

‘Oh, not as bad as it looked. The doctor poked around and discovered that the bullet had torn a big gash but hit a rib and was deflected. He sewed the wound up and here I am, lying in bed while my son takes care of both flocks. A little hot-headed, my boy, but really a good young man.’

‘I hope both you and he understand that I had nothing to do with your being shot.’

‘From me you have no fear on that score: my son, however, is another matter. He can think of no one other than you, only because you’re the last of your kind to be seen anywhere near our camp. I told him that you were a gentleman and was not one to repay our hospitality with such an evil deed, but he is young and does not believe.’

‘Has there been trouble between cattlemen and
sheepherders
before?’

‘No.’ Sadness filled the old man’s face. ‘For many years we Basques have held our flocks outside the pastures of both those who raise cattle and horses. We even stay away from the farms that are in the area of the river. This land is not as dry as it looks and our sheep can easily find the feed they need. Until recently there has been no strife.’

Sitting on the log, Buck enjoyed the sheepherder’s company as they discussed various things. It was obvious that the old man was happy to have a visitor to spend time with. Finally though, Buck tossed out the dregs of the last cup and, wishing the man well, rode off toward the Rocking C.

The early afternoon sun was past its zenith and its intensity wasn’t as harsh as he rode into the ranch yard. Not sure of the welcome he could expect, he thought at least he’d get a good ranch meal and a bed for the night, the same any
grubline
rider could expect. Two other horses were standing hipshot at the hitch rail, one a big proud gray carrying the H Bar H brand. Standing as high as the gray, the other was much broader along the back, and was one of the breeds favored for pulling a farm wagon or plow.

Dropping the reins over the hitch rail, Buck went up the steps on to the veranda just as the front door swung open.

‘Buck,’ Matilda exclaimed as she saw the big man. ‘What are you doing here?’

Following her out the door, Buck recognized the young man who had been standing with the Hightowers after the fight with the blacksmith, Calvin. Taking his hat off, he nodded in answer, ‘Why, just riding the grub line, ma’am,’ he laughed, thinking he had obviously not been expected. ‘Just hoping to get a good meal and a place for my bedroll in your hay barn.’ Pointing in the direction of the young man, he said, ‘I don’t think I’ve met this man; seen him, but haven’t been introduced.’

‘I’m Paul Hightower. I know who you are. Everybody knows who you are. What we don’t know is why Mrs Randle brought you here.’

‘I didn’t, Paul. I told you that. A good friend of mine asked him to come help me and here he is.’

‘Pa says someone hired him to come in and cause
trouble
.’ The young man ignored Buck.

‘Is that what you’re doing, Buck? I’m beginning to wonder, especially now. Don’t you think you’ve a lot of nerve, showing up here?’ The nervous tension Matilda had shown the last time they’d talked was still evident. ‘How much damage are you going to do?’

Noting the solemn looks on the their faces, Buck’s smile quickly evaporated. ‘What has happened?’ he enquired.

‘You expect us to think you don’t know?’ Paul asked in amazement.

‘I don’t expect anything from you,’ he snapped. Turning to Matilda he asked again, ‘What has happened?’

Frown lines masked her face. ‘Buck, Vance Hubbard was murdered this morning. Just like Virgil, someone shot him and left him in the road. Hugh and his boys found him and took his body back to town. Buck, the sheriff is saying you’re the only one with a reason to kill him.’

‘I don’t think I’ve ever met so many people so quick to blame me for each and every killing.’ Shaking his head disgustedly, Buck walked to the nearest rocking chair and sat down. Whirling his hat in his hands he looked unsmilingly at the pair. ‘Now, would someone tell me what this is all about?’

‘But you’re the last person to talk with him,’ Matilda cried out, ‘in the restaurant yesterday morning. His bartender told Sheriff Holt that Hubbard came into the saloon and closed his office door and didn’t come out until closing time. This morning, they found him lying alongside the road, dead.’

‘Paul?’ Buck said questioningly. ‘Exactly where did you and your pa find Hubbard?’

‘Just about where Mr Randle was found. Just left in the dirt next to the roadway. He’d been shot in the chest. A
terrible
wound, Pa said he had to be dead before he hit the ground. His horse was off a ways chomping at the grass.’

‘A terrible wound, you say?’

‘Yes.’ He grimaced. ‘His shirt was all black where the bullet hit him. It looked burnt.’

‘So it was more than likely someone he knew and trusted. Probably was riding alongside.’

‘We wrapped him in his slicker and took his body back to
town. Sheriff Holt said he’d be talking to you about where you were last night and early this morning.’

‘Last night? I dry camped a coupla miles from the Navarros sheep camp. I rode in just after daybreak to see how the old man was getting along. We had coffee and a long talk. I suppose it’s possible I could have waited for the gambler, shot him and then raced across the valley, but I didn’t.’ Getting up and jamming his hat firmly in place, he went down the steps and put a foot in a stirrup. ‘Well, one problem’s been solved,’ he said, reining away from the porch.

‘What’s that?’ Matilda asked, despairingly.

‘Those IOUs your husband was supposed to have signed: Hubbard can’t collect on them now, can he?’ Touching the black’s side with a spur, he turned away.

Buck didn’t get far when he heard his name called. ‘Mr Armstrong.’ Paul Hightower came running across the yard, catching up.

‘Look, maybe what you say is right. Maybe what Pa’s been telling us is, well, is what he wants to believe.’ His words came fast. ‘But in one thing you’re right. Matilda has a better reason for not wanting that gambler to come out here. And if she does, then Pa does too. He’s determined to help her and he could see that stopping Hubbard is doing just that.’ His words ended as Matilda came to stand by him.

‘Buck, I apologize for my outburst. It’s just that I don’t know what’s happening,’ Matilda’s eyes were filling with tears.

‘Matilda, I don’t know either. So far, the only people I’ve shot have been two rustlers, and both were given the chance to back up. Both drew against me. Oh.’ He remembered the ambush. ‘There was the man out on the trail. He and his partners tried to discourage me from heading this way.’

‘Did Jose Navarro invite you into his camp?’ Paul demanded disbelievingly. ‘His son is sure you’re the one
who shot his dad.’

‘Yep. His boy still thinks so, I guess, but Juan doesn’t. I didn’t run into the boy, he was out with the flock this
morning
. People’ – he raised his right hand – ‘I’m not the wild killer that some are saying I am.’

‘Mr Armstrong, I guess I want to apologize too. Maybe you’re the killer Pa says you are, but I don’t know where else to go,’ Paul looked away obviously embarrassed. Taking a deep breath he went on, again talking fast, as if trying to get the words out before changing his mind, ‘The truth is, I came over here hoping to find you. Everybody is saying you’re just a gunman and that you’re a killer, but Mrs Randle doesn’t think so, and old Navarro must not so maybe they are wrong. It doesn’t matter; you’re the only one I can think of. I need help.’

Buck settled back in the saddle and grinned. ‘First you’re sure I’m a killer and then you want my help. Boy, whatever the problem is, it must be something worth listening to. What do you want me to do? Shoot someone?’

‘Buck, please listen to him,’ Matilda pleaded. ‘He came to me for help and you’re the only one I could think of. Please.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘It’s my pa. We were riding back to the ranch from town. I heard him tell Frank and Hughie that tonight would be a good time to hit the farmers. He made it sound like a joke. But he’s never liked having them in the south end of the basin, says that land shouldn’t be plowed. He always thought Miz Randle’s pa was wrong to be buying their hay and oats and now with all the trouble you’re having, he thinks it’s a good time to start moving them out.’

Buck dropped the black’s reins and climbed out of the saddle. Facing Paul he frowned, ‘Boy, are you telling me your brothers are planning on causing trouble for the
farmers
? Is this the first time they’ve done something like this?
You know they’ve been blaming Matilda and her hands. That was what that fight with the blacksmith was all about.’

‘I don’t know. Pa and my brothers don’t talk to me much. Pa always blamed me for my ma’s death and my brothers, well, it’s always been like I was some poor relation that has to stand outside looking in. But things’re different now. I can’t let them hurt the farmers.’

‘What changed?’

Paul looked for help from Matilda, who stood silent. Finally the young man, head hanging down, whispered, ‘Elizabeth Cooder.’ Looking up at Buck he pleaded, ‘I can’t stand by and see her pa’s place destroyed just because my pa thinks that land should be used for horses.’

‘Buck,’ Matilda appealed, ‘Paul and Elizabeth have been meeting when they could here at the ranch since early spring. Their fathers would have a fit if they knew, so I let them meet here when they can get away.’

Buck looked first at one and then the other. Shaking his head, he asked, ‘Does your pa know where you are right now?’

‘No, I’m supposed to be up in the north pasture bringing in a couple of brood mares we keep up there with their colts. But I can’t just let it happen, can I?’

‘What’ll your pa say when he learns you’re turning against him? If the farmers are warned, he’ll know and it don’t take much to figure out you’re the only one who could tell them.’

‘I don’t care,’ Paul stood tall, ‘I just can’t be part of what he thinks is tolerable. Those people have families and are our neighbors. Pa is wrong and Frank and Hughie – they just think it’s fun. Will you help?’

‘Yeah, I’ll go along. But they won’t listen to me. Old Cooder in the camp thinks I’m a troublemaker and a killer. One or the other of you will have to go along to convince them to be ready to fight.’