Dark Journey Home (21 page)

That black stallion stood proud and erect in his
stall, rolling his bloodshot eyes toward the two newcomers, and just seemed to
be thinking up what forms of torture he could conjure up, to test the latest in
a series of broncobusters, who had attempted to ride him.  He stomped his feet
and let out a loud snort of protest.    

Logan
eyed the
powerful animal, then turned toward Chester, and said, “Thanks for showing us
around.  We’ll see about taming down the big black for the owner.  You said his
name’s Woody?  Not the horse, I mean, the owner?”

Chester
looked
at Logan to see if he was serious, but decided by Logan’s honest and blank
expression that he was.” 

“The owner of this spread is Woody Perkins, but he
prefers to be called Mr. Perkins, by the hired help.  Don’t forget it.”  With
that Chester walked away.  That’s all they would get from him.  He’d left them
to their work.

“Si, Señor, we will remember to address his royalty in
such a respectful manner.  Si.”  Ricardo called after Chester, but received no
answer.”

“I’ll give the black a workout first, amigo.”  Ricardo
turned to Logan, and began unbuckling his gun belt, then handed it to his
friend for safe keeping.”

“No, no, Ricardo, I need the practice.  Let me go
first.”  Logan argued.

“It has been decided already, amigo.  I will admit to
being over forty, but these old bones haven’t been put to pasture yet.  Besides
I will only wear out the devil for you.  Then you may take over, and have the
glory.  Hold him down while I put the saddle on.”

The black attempted to shift sideways, as Logan held on, and Ricardo finally managed to saddle up and then tighten the cinch.  The
stallion didn’t like the weight of the saddle on his back at all, and protested
with a loud whinny and a hard stomping of his right front foot, and just as
Ricardo attempted to step his left booted foot into the stirrup, and raise himself
up onto the saddle, it was like a small volcano erupted.  The stallion gnashed
his teeth, snorted like a dragon, and then reared up prancing around on his two
hind legs.

Logan
was unprepared
to step back out of the way, and almost lost his balance, as he was lifted into
the air holding on to the horse’s head, then he turned and jumped out of the
way of those heavy iron-shod hooves, as they frantically pawed the air in
violent protest.  Ricardo was unseated, before he’d even finished mounting.

“Why you ornery devil!”  Logan shouted, as he once
again grabbed the reins, and tried to hold down the now prancing steed. 

Ricardo picked himself up from the dirt, and after
another failed attempt to mount, finally the third try was successful.  He took
the reins from Logan, and literally threw himself into the saddle. 

That devil horse stood stock still, his heavy sides
vibrating with fear at the unexpected extra weight on his back.  He stood
motionless for several seconds, blowing and snorting, then the bucking began
once more, and it was a fight between man and beast, as Ricardo managed to stay
in the saddle for all of one minute before he hit the dirt, then just barely
managed to roll out of the way, as that devil black horse, teeth bared, raced
towards him.

Logan
ran and grabbed
the reins, then held on, not giving him time to start with the bucking again. 
He leaped up into the saddle, and hollered loudly.  “You wild hombre, let’s see
you shake me off.  If you were mine, I’d name you Lucifer, ‘cause that’s what
you are.  You’re gonna be a tame devil ‘afore I’m done with the likes of you.” 
And Logan gave a loud ‘Yahoo!’, as he held on tight with he knees, and managed
to keep his seat midst all the wild efforts of the sweating muscular beast. 

All the bucking, snorting, and attempted cartwheels,
among other wild maneuvers the mustang gave, wouldn’t loosen the tight hold the
rugged cowhand had on the horse’s back, and even Logan was surprised that after
all those years at sea, he hadn’t forgotten a thing that his pa had taught him
on that horse ranch of his.  He’d broken many a wild bronc to the saddle, some
just as ornery and mean as this one, but that had been a long time ago, before
his gold-prospecting days.  He’d give this mustang credit though, he was game. 
A fighter, no less.  Strong-willed and proud.  Logan admired that in a horse. 

He moved with the animal, judging his every tactic,
and when the black mustang had finally worn himself out and stopped the
bucking, he began running all around the corral with Logan still mounted and
holding.

Suddenly the black raced over and leaped at the corral
fence, knocking off the top rail in the process, and at that time Logan
realized they’d drawn quite an audience, as several cowhands jumped down from
the rail, and ran to get out of the way, just before the mustang flew over, and
took off running across the ranch yard, then out to the green valley, racing
through the tall grass.

Logan
just gave that
horse his head, and let him run.  He hadn’t had that much fun in years, but
knew that every muscle in his body would ache for days to come.  However, what
better way to get to meet the supposed owner of this spread, than by taming
this devil mustang.

By the time he took charge of the reins, and turned
the horse around, heading for the corral, he knew that at least he and the
animal now understood each other, and he looked forward to working with him for
the few days he would be there at the ranch. 

As he rode up to the corral, Ricardo came running up
and said, “See, amigo!  Didn’t I tell you that I would wear him down for you?” 
He was grinning ear to ear, showing white even teeth. 

Logan
chuckled, and
patted the sweating, heaving sides of the black horse, and looking at Ricardo,
said, “Gracias amigo.  That you did.”

A very sultry feminine voice broke in, “Okay, cowboy,
so you showed off a bit.  Big deal.  Now my daddy will give you a pat on the
rear and maybe invite you to supper.”

Logan and Ricardo both turned towards the voice, and
glimpsed the young lady who leaned lazily against the corral fence. 

“How do, ma’am.”  Logan touched the brim of his hat
that he had managed to keep on during the wild ride.  “And just who may your
daddy be, may I ask.”

“Why, anyone with half a brain knows my daddy owns
this whole part of the country.  My name’s Trudy.  Trudy Perkins, that is. 
Ring a bell?”  She continued to slouch against the fence in a very unladylike
manner, though no one could complain about the lady’s looks, as she definitely
was feminine, and young as she was, she was apparently all woman.  Wearing a
turquoise riding skirt, that hugged softly rounded hips, and a tight white
shirt that, hiding nothing, molded to her soft feminine curves, gorgeous would
be a mild description of the owner’s daughter, and obviously she well knew it. 

Her hair was auburn and thick, hanging down her back
in soft glossy waves, her eyes a glittering green shaped like cat eyes, with
thick lashes, her lips full and pink, and very pouty.  She now brazenly looked Logan up and down and, raising one eyebrow, asked.  “What else can you do, cowboy?”

Ricardo was amused, and looking at Logan, he said,
“See how you can untangle yourself from this wild one, amigo.”

Logan
just stared
blank-faced at the obviously out-of-hand daughter of the supposed owner of the
spread, then slowly drawled, “Well, ma’am, it’s like this.  I definitely would
like to meet that ‘daddy’ of yours sometime, but I’ve a feeling that he
wouldn’t like too much uninvited attention towards his daughter by one of the
‘hired help’.  So let’s just say, it was nice meeting you, and just let ‘what
else I can do’ go for now.”

He smelled the cigar smoke just before the very loud
voice of Jinx Holderman blasted the air next to him, to his left, “Good
decision there cowboy.  I wouldn’t like having to let you go so quick after the
display you put on with that black stallion.”  Then he addressed Trudy
pointedly.  “Miss Perkins, I believe your father is calling you.”

“Is that so, Jinx?”  She smirked.  “When I decide to
let you boss me around, I’ll certainly let you know.”  Glaring at him, she then
winked at Logan just before she threw back at Jinx, “Tell my daddy that I went
for a ride, boss man.”  And she sauntered off towards the stable, but not
before casting one last glance towards Logan as she purred, “Nice meeting you,
cowboy, and be assured that we’ll meet again……..soon.”  Then she winked at
Ricardo as she walked away. 

Jinx, flustered and obviously irritated by Miss
Perkins’ attitude towards him, motioned to Logan, “Well now, you boys aren’t
hired out here to socialize with the womenfolk on this spread, so let’s get
back to workin’.”  He then nodded towards Logan, after a slight hesitation, and
added, “By the way, nice riding.  The boss’ll be pleased.”  Logan was sure that
last statement was grudgingly given.

The rest of the morning was spent working several of
the mustangs, a little pinto mare was the easiest, and had a good disposition,
and for some reason Logan began thinking about Olivia, and how she would love this
little mare for her own.  Well, just maybe?

Most of the horses took a little work, but would make
some good saddle mounts, once they had been worked with for awhile.  By lunch
time Logan and Ricardo were more than ready to take a well-earned break, and
they headed for the water pump in the center of the yard, and washed up, then
headed over for lunch.

There were only a few hands having the noon meal, and
Logan figured that most were probably out on the range checking cattle, and
possibly moving some to a different grazing pasture; roundup would begin soon,
and those beeves needed to be kept fat and healthy.  So many pounds would be
lost anyway during the long drive to the rail yards. 

Logan
was
already thinking of Claude’s profit from the next drive, and figured it would
be a good one, although Lord Beckford had assured him that he didn’t even need
the income from the ranch, but it also was a part of Olivia’s inheritance, and Logan was determined to protect their interests at all costs.

The other hands had just finished up eating and before
long Logan and Ricardo were the only ones left in the room eating.  The door
opened and Chester walked in with another new hand.  He introduced him as Butch
Hogan, to the cook, Hank, and told Hank that he’d just hired on, and to feed
him, as the man had just come in off the trail, and being as they needed
another hand to help with the coming roundup, that he’d hired him on. 

He told the newest employee, a tough appearing man,
bearded and carrying a tied down holster with a .45 on his right hip, probably
in his mid forties, to report to him after eating, and he would have one of the
other men show him to the north range, where the work was being started.  Chester left the building, leaving Butch Hogan to his meal.  Butch nodded to Logan and
Ricardo, then began pouring his coffee as Hank dished up another plate full of
beef, potatoes and gravy, with biscuits on the side. 

Logan
looked at Butch,
and said, “So your handle’s Butch Hogan?  Mine’s Logan Wakefield, and this here
sidekick is Ricardo Cortez.”

Butch grinned, then answered after swigging a mouthful
of hot, black coffee.  “You got it right, son.  Name’s Butch Hogan.  Now you
just call me Butch or Hogan, an’ I’ll answer to either.”  He nodded towards
Ricardo, and was acknowledged in turn.  Instinct told Ricardo that something
was going on between the two men, though he kept his silence. 

Logan
grinned, then said,
“Nice to have you join us…..uh…Hogan.”

Logan
thought to
himself, “Well, I guess the Texas Rangers got my cable after all.  So my friend
Jake Welby is still going strong after all these years.  I’d have recognized
that son-of-a-gun behind that bushy beard anywhere.  So he’s going by the name
of Butch Hogan now.  His real name must be well known then.”  Logan couldn’t
wait to see Jake Welby alone, and discuss the situation with him.  Maybe
sometime after dark tonight, though neither man let on that they knew each
other.  He’d have to inform Ricardo when they were alone, and could talk.

The cook, whose name was Hank Chavez, knew his way
around a cookstove, as the meal was well-prepared, and Hank was a pleasant
enough fellow to be around, seeming to be lonely for conversation with other
men.  He was in a talkative mood, or maybe he was always friendly, but as the
men ate, Logan casually threw a question or two the cook’s way.  Chavez
obviously had just been waiting for just such an opportunity to begin a
long-winded one-sided conversation, with himself as the center of attention.