Hard Country (38 page)

“I ain’t walking away,” he finally said.

“Tonight, after Molly goes to sleep, you can visit me. Take a bath before you come.”

“Tonight, then,” Patrick said.

“Yes,” Emma replied with a small smile, wondering if he would kiss her before he climbed on her. If he did not, it would be dreadful.

38

I
n the morning, Cal and George met up on the trail back to the ranch, and after exchanging the happy news of the good condition of the stock at Big Sheep and North Canyon, they rode together in comfortable silence under a razor-sharp blue February sky.

All was quiet upon their arrival, with no sign of Patrick, Emma, or Molly. Cuidado, Patrick’s pony, loitered in the pasture with the other horses, and the wagon was parked in the barn, causing George to worry.

“Something ain’t right,” he said as he slid out of the saddle. “None of the corral chores have been done, and this is Emma’s wash day and there ain’t no clothes on the line. Besides that, the wagon is here, Patrick’s pony is here, and there’s not a sound to be heard or person to be seen.”

“Rein it in,” Cal replied.

“Well then, where the hoot is everybody?” George countered. “What’s going on?”

“Let’s get these ponies brushed, watered, and fed,” Cal replied, nodding toward the casita, “and take our good time doing it.”

The worried look on George’s face faded into a grin. “You ain’t saying…”

“I’m hoping,” Cal replied.

“I’ll be damned,” George chuckled. “If Patrick’s done cinched her up, it will sure make it a lot easier around here on us old boys.”

“Amen,” Cal replied.

They looked after their ponies with great, deliberate care and turned them loose in the pasture just as Deputy Sheriff Tito Barela rode up.

“What brings you out here, Tito?” Cal asked. Built low to the ground, Tito had a chubby face and sunny disposition that belied his toughness.

“Colonel Fountain and his son Henry are missing,” Tito replied. “A stage driver who met the colonel on the road said three horsemen were following Fountain. He was carrying grand jury indictments against Oliver Lee and his sidekicks for cattle larceny and defacing brands.” Tito slid off his pony.

“I saw Fountain in Tularosa on his way home,” Cal said, “and he asked me if Lee and his amigos were in town.”

“Did he say anything about being followed?” Tito asked.

Cal shook his head. “Nope. How sure are you about foul play?”

“There were bloodstains and many horse tracks where the wagon left the road, and we found one of the colonel’s horses and his buckboard miles to the east, his papers missing, everything scattered about.”

“Bad business,” Cal said.

“It’s a big
tumulto,
” Tito said. “Posses are out looking for the bodies, big rewards have been raised, and people are demanding the arrest of Lee and his compadres for murder. There’s talk of a lynching when they’re brought in.”

Tito held out a star. “The sheriff wants you back on the job. I’m to bring you to Las Cruces pronto.”

Cal hesitated. He wasn’t about to go galloping off to do the sheriff’s bidding without first knowing if Patrick and Emma had cinched up.

“You go on ahead,” he said as he took the star from Tito’s hand. “Tell the sheriff I’ll be there in a couple of days.”

Tito nodded and threw a leg up on his pony. “Adios.”

“So long,” Cal replied.

“I thought you weren’t gonna be a lawman anymore,” George said as Tito rode away.

“Well, curiosity has got the best of me, I reckon,” Cal said with a slow grin. “Besides, we can always use the money, and between you and Patrick, I know things will get looked after around here.”

He slapped George on the back. “I’m hungry. Let’s get a cup of coffee and see if there are any victuals warming on the stove.”

* * *

P
atrick eased into the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee, and joined Cal and George at the table, where the men were mopping up the last of their bowls of stew with slices of Emma’s homemade bread. Both nodded howdy but didn’t say a word.

“Did we lose any stock from the storm?” Patrick finally asked.

“Didn’t find any carcasses,” Cal said, giving Patrick a once-over. His hair was mussed and he looked more relaxed than anytime Cal could recall since he returned home. Also, he was clean shaven and smelled like soap. “Our tallies at Big Sheep and North Canyon were about right.”

“Maybe a wolf or bear took one or two of the yearlings,” George said. “That’s about all we lost.”

“And we’re gonna have some good grass up there come spring,” Cal noted as he went to the stove for the coffeepot. “But we need to start moving the cattle to new pastures real soon.”

“Who came to visit?” Patrick asked.

“Tito Barela.” Cal refilled his cup and passed the pot to George. “Seems Albert Fountain and his youngest son were bushwhacked on their way home from Lincoln. Posses are out looking for their bodies. Oliver Lee and some of his boys are suspects.”

He took the star out of his shirt pocket. “I’ve been asked to ride for the law again. I’ll leave in the morning. Now that you’ve dropped your rope on Emma, mind if George moves back into your old room? I’m tired of having him bunk with me anyway.”

“That’s okay by me,” Patrick replied, coloring slightly.

“
Bueno.
” Cal stood, drained his coffee, and juggled the badge in his hand. “Best I get my outfit together. Can’t go chasing
cabrons
unshucked.”

“How long will you be gone?” Patrick asked.

“Don’t know,” Cal replied, “but it would sure be nice if you could have some of them cow ponies ready to sell when I get back. That’s if you can find the time.”

“Want to make that a bit plainer?” Patrick asked, holding back a grin.

“No need, from the looks of it,” Cal said with a smile.

George pushed back his chair and chuckled at Patrick. “You look a little peaked, old son, like you’re coming down with something. Better rest up today. See if Emma has a remedy you can take. I’ll look after the chores that need doing.”

“I swear someday when Cal’s not around I’m gonna fire you,” Patrick said, suppressing a smile.

“I know it,” George replied.

“And I’ll hire him right back,” Cal announced.

“I know that too,” George said, pulling his work gloves on as he headed for the door.

“In case you don’t know it, that old boy there is a friend of yours,” Cal said after George was gone.

“I’m beginning to get a glimmer of that idea,” Patrick replied.

* * *

P
atrick moved out of his room and George didn’t waste any time taking it over when he finished doing chores. Cal packed his bedroll and saddlebags thinking he and George might soon be sharing the casita if Patrick and Emma got busy making babies. Cal liked the notion of the house someday filled with children. It would be a tribute to all that John Kerney had wanted for his son.

He spread an oilcloth on his bed and got out his artillery. He would take a shotgun, a rifle, two pistols, a Bowie knife, and enough ammunition to get through a daylong gunfight if necessary. When you wore a star you had to expect to go to war.

He was cleaning his shotgun when Emma appeared in the open door, wearing one of the dresses Cal had given her. Unlike Patrick, she seemed no different than before, which came as no surprise. From what Cal had observed, women quickly returned to their ordinary selves after they’d given themselves to a man, until the next time, when it happened all over again. It was a mystery he hadn’t quite figured out.

“Patrick told me,” she said. “I’ll miss you.”

Cal put the shotgun down and gave her a good look-see. There was no sign that she’d been mistreated, and she seemed calm and collected. “I shouldn’t be gone all that long,” he replied. “Are you doing all right, missy?”

Emma nodded and smiled. “I’m fine.”

“You’re staying on, then?”

“I’m staying.”

“Good.”

“Will you do me a favor?”

“What’s that?” Cal asked.

“When you’re in town, buy me two pairs of boys’ pants.” She held out a piece of paper and some silver coins. “I wrote down the size to get. They won’t fit exactly, but I’ll alter them.”

“For you, are they?” Cal asked, taking the coins and the paper from her hand.

“How did you know?” Emma replied.

“I saw you down in the pasture with Patrick. He picked out a pony to give you, didn’t he?”

Emma nodded and beamed. “A sweet gelding and a saddle that fits me just fine.”

“That’s real good.”

“I’ll pack some food for you in the morning before you go.”

“Why, thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t be so formal.”

“Why not?” Cal replied. “After all, you’re the woman of the house now, not just hired help anymore. Should I send a preacher out from town to hitch you two?”

Emma looked shocked. “Don’t you dare.” She gave him a bright smile and disappeared from sight.

Cal went back to cleaning his shotgun, thinking Emma had seemed more pleased with her new pony than with Patrick, but that was okay. They were just getting started.

It was the book writers and poets who made a big deal about cooing, courting, love, and romance. In a hard country there wasn’t much room for all of that. Maybe Patrick and Emma had come about as close to it as they would ever get. If so and they were happy, that would be mighty fine in Cal’s book.

39

C
al Doran arrived in Las Cruces in the midst of a political ruckus that had been brewing for more than a year. The last election for sheriff had turned into a court fight when a group of citizens intercepted the Tularosa messenger transporting the ballot box and burned its contents, throwing the results in favor of the Democrats, led by Albert Fall, Colonel Fountain’s political rival. Under Fountain’s leadership, the Republicans had sued in court and Fall had spent months fighting the challenge with delaying tactics.

With Fountain murdered, the Republicans were continuing to press their case, but losing their leader had hurt their effectiveness. Meanwhile, the Democratic incumbent, Guadalupe Ascarate, held on to the sheriff’s office. At Fall’s suggestion, Ascarate had deputized Oliver Lee and his amigos, in spite of the rumors and accusations floating around them about the Fountain murders.

Ascarate had served two terms as sheriff back in the eighties, and Cal had found him decent and reasonably competent. But first and foremost Guadalupe was a politician, and folks like that were usually corrupt enough to bend, twist, and maybe even break the law to hold on to power and influence.

As Cal stepped toward the sheriff’s office he wondered what scheme Judge Fall and Sheriff Ascarate had hatched for him. He sure didn’t think they were counting on him to pronounce Oliver Lee citizen of the year and demand satisfaction from all who disagreed.

The only people inside the office were a jailer and a hobo in lockup. The jailer directed Cal to the Arcade Saloon, where he found Ascarate at a table with Albert Fall. Both men stood and shook Cal’s hand.

“Good of you to agree to serve as a deputy,” Judge Albert Bacon Fall said. Originally from Kentucky, he had a soft, pleasant drawl. Although he was back in private practice as a lawyer and no longer sat on the bench, Fall savored his honorary title.

“
Sí,
” Guadalupe Ascarate said. “Sit.”

“What have you boys got in mind for me?” Cal asked.

Judge Fall smiled. “Straight to the point. I like that.”

Ascarate smiled and nodded in agreement.

Fall, square jawed under a droopy mustache, had wispy hair thinning on top. Ascarate’s narrow face was hidden by a beard and topped off by a carpet of thick hair. Both men were still flashing their teeth, but neither man’s eyes were smiling.

“You know about this court case over the sheriff’s office,” Fall said, smile gone. “Well, with Fountain and his young boy missing and presumed killed, Guadalupe has been unjustly criticized because he hasn’t rushed out to arrest Oliver Lee and his men.”

“I’ve heard a passel of evidence points in Lee’s direction,” Cal offered.

“All spurious. The fact is Fountain’s oldest son, Albert Jr., has been making unfounded accusations about a plot in the sheriff’s office to hide and destroy evidence that could convict Oliver.”

“Nothing could be further from the truth,” Ascarate said pompously.

“Exactly.” Fall leaned forward. “We’ve tried to put the rumors to rest. Guadalupe and his opponent, Numa Reymond, met with Governor Thornton. Thornton proposed that if Guadalupe stepped down as sheriff and Reymond refused the office, he’d appoint Pat Garrett to the job. Guadalupe agreed but Reymond would have none of it. The Republicans are on a witch hunt for Oliver and aren’t about to let it rest.”

“They’re no better than a lynch mob,” Ascarate put in.

“A Pinkerton agent by the name of Fraser has been trying to tie the Fountain case to Oliver Lee,” Fall continued. “But all he’s done is spread a lot of gossip to Thornton up in Santa Fe. Until this election is settled, we need to keep things from getting out of hand. That’s where you come in. Everyone knows you’ve never taken sides for or against me or Fountain and that you’re a fair and honest lawman. We need you to take over the investigation.”

“Unhindered?” Cal asked.

“Of course,” Fall said.

“With the help I need?”

“
Sí,
” Guadalupe replied.

Cal leaned back and studied the two men. “I’ll want to see all the evidence, talk to all the people involved, and visit all the locations.”

“I’d expect no less,” Fall said.

Cal turned to Ascarate. “Nobody gets arrested unless I say so, and you keep Lee and his boys from flaunting their authority as deputies.”

“You’re asking a lot,” Fall said.

“Those are my terms,” Cal replied.

Ascarate looked at Fall, who nodded slightly, and then turned back to Cal. “You must move quickly,” he said.

“Give me a month. Let the newspapers know that I was deputized to look into the Fountain disappearances and that I am not interested in arresting anybody for any other crimes.”