The Stalking Death Page 5

  “Do I owe you any money?” Houser asked.

  “No, sir, Miz Prescott’s done paid both of us for what I was doin’.”

  “How many hands are there now?”

  “Besides me they’s just three more here now: Ty Cooper, like I said, ’n a couple of weeks ago, we took on Slim Hastings, Dooley Carson. We ain’t paid them nothin’ but found ’cause I don’t have no money, but I told ’em you’d more ’n likely hire ’em on, as you’ll need hands.”

  “Would you like to stay on as foreman?”

  A broad smile spread across Turley’s face. “Yes, sir, I would. I was hopin’ you might ask me to. What about Slim, Dooley, ’n Cooper? Can we keep them, too?”

  “Yes. How many more men do you think would be necessary for optimum efficiency?”

  Turley got a confused expression on his face.

  “How many more men for what?”

  “How many more men do you think we would need to operate the ranch?”

  “Oh, about seven more, I reckon.”

  “Hire them.

  “Yes, sir!” Turley replied, the smile returning.

  * * *

  Houser was there less than a month when he received a letter from Rosemary Woods, the woman he had left back in Sulphur Springs. He was both angry and shocked to receive the letter. How did she know where he was? He had told nobody where he was going.

  Dear Brad,

  I hope this letter finds you in good health. When I didn’t hear from you as you promised, I began to worry that something may have happened to you, so I checked with the railroad and found out that you had gone to Chugwater, Wyoming.

  What a funny name is Chugwater. I hope that you have found a job there and are saving your money. I am sure that you will send for me as soon as you can.

  After I found out where you went, I met a man named Shamrock who said you was his lawyer and he was looking for you. I told him where you was.

  Waiting anxiously to hear from you, I remain,

  Your

  Rosemary

  Angrily, Brad tore up the letter. The last thing he needed now was any connection with his past in Sulphur Springs, especially if it was a former saloon girl. And he certainly wasn’t happy to hear that she had told Thomas, or Shamrock, as he was now calling himself. He wouldn’t answer the letter.

  Gradually, Brad Houser began to put his mark on the Valley of the Chug. The owner of Twin Peaks Ranch was a vain man who eschewed the jeans and cotton shirts of most ranchers so that he could dress in accordance to what he considered his “station.”

  From Ben Turley and the hired hands he demanded servile respect. He very rarely made a personal inspection of the cattle in the field, and when he did do so, he inspected his domain, not from the hurricane deck of a horse, but from the leather padded seat of a surrey.

  This morning he was in his ranch office, which was a small, white building that was halfway between what the riders called the “Big House” and the bunkhouse. Houser was going over his books when Ben Turley knocked on the door.

  “Yes, Mr. Turley, come in,” Houser called out to him.

  “Mr. Houser, we can’t move them cows onto the Pine Flats like you wanted.”

  “And may I ask why not?”

  “We can’t do it on account of Kenny Prosser’s cows is already there.”

  “I thought you told me that Mr. Prescott always used the Pine Flats for grazing.”

  “Yes, sir, we’ve done it all the time since I been workin’ here, only the Pine Flats ain’t none of our land. It’s open range, ’n that means that it belongs to whoever is the first person to put their cows on the grass.”

  “Not so much as one acre of Twin Peaks is ‘our’ land, Mr. Turley. It is all ‘my’ land,” Houser said.

  “Yes, sir, that’s what I meant. Onliest thing is, like I told you, we couldn’t put the cows onto the Pine Flats, seein’ as Prosser’s cows is already there, so what I done is, I put ’em out in the Sweet Grass Pasture.”

  “Didn’t you tell me that the Sweet Grass Pasture has been overgrazed?”

  “It ain’t entirely over et, but it damn near is.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t Prosser used to ride for Twin Peaks?”

  “Yes, sir, he done for a little while, but whenever Mr. Prescott let ever’ body go, well, what Prosser did is, he commenced to homesteadin’ some land, bought hisself some cows, ’n started his own ranch.”

  “Bought cows, or stole them?” Houser asked.

  “Well, sir, Mr. Prescott, he give ’im twenty head, ’n Kenny, he bought another thirty head from Mr. Prescott, ’n twenty more head from Mr. Lewis over at Trail Back. After that he rounded up some mavericks, around ten or fifteen of ’em, I reckon. So now he’s runnin’ somewhat shy of a hundred head.”

  “And now he is grazing on my land.”

  “No, sir, it’s like I said, he’s on the Pine Flats, ’n that ain’t nobody’s land.”

  “It is grazing that Twin Peaks has always used, you said. And don’t you think Prosser knows that?” Houser asked angrily.

  “Yes, sir, I reckon so. ’N ’cause he also knowed it was good grazin’ ’n open range is why I figure he put his cows there.”

  “Mr. Turley, I want you to go back out to the Pine Flats and make a thorough perusal of all of Mr. Prosser’s cattle.”

  “I beg your pardon, boss? What is it you want me to do to his cattle?” Turley asked, the expression on his face reflecting his confusion at the word perusal.

  “Take a close look at them,” Houser explained. “Make a very thorough examination. I want you to make certain that none of Prosser’s cows are wearing the Twin Peaks brand.”

  “Well, sir, there’s liable to be fifty of ’em that is, on account of like I said.”

  “Do you not think it strange, Mr. Turley, that Prescott would give some cattle to a common cowboy, but he gave none to you, when you were the foreman?”

  “No, sir, it ain’t all that strange. He offered me some cows if I wanted to go into ranchin’ my ownself, but he told me if I would stay and help ’im look after the ranch till he died, he’d give me money that would be equal to what the cows was worth.”

  “I see. And so now you are asking me for that money?”

  “No, sir, Mr. Houser. Mr. Prescott, he done give me that money. And Miz Prescott, she give me some more money to stay on till the ranch got sold to the next owner, which wasn’t very long ’cause you was here within a week.”

  “Do you know this man who is running his cattle on the Pine Flats?”

  “Yes, sir, I know Kenny pretty good, ’n I don’t think he’d take any Twin Peaks cows. Most especial since he used to work here, ’n even though he don’t work here no more, well, I reckon he’s still loyal to the brand. I mean, there really ain’t no need to check on ’im ’n maybe embarrass him none.”

  “Please, just do as I say, Mr. Turley.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sky Meadow Ranch

  Duff Tavish MacCallister and his friend Elmer, a man who was in his late fifties, but looked much older, were working on the gate of his corral. Elmer was more than a ranch hand, and though he was second in charge of the ranch, he was also considerably more than a foreman. Elmer was a partner, his position in the ranch secured by the gold he had taken from a mine he had discovered on land that subsequently became a part of the large Sky Meadow Ranch. But he had more than just a monetary investment. Elmer had often put his life on the line for Duff. Their relationship could be described as symbiotic: Elmer had saved Duff’s life more than once, and Duff had returned the favor just as often.

  “I seen that feller Houser in town the other day,” Elmer said as he lifted up on the gate so Duff could connect the hinge. “He was dressed up all fancy like he owned the world.”

  “Aye, he does like to dress the dandy, now,” Duff replied.

  “I tell you the truth, Duff, they’s somethin’ about that feller that just ain’t right. I cain’t hardly put m’ finger on it, but he just don’t sit right with me.”

  “He is obviously a very well-educated man,” Duff said. “And while some men are subdued about their education in a way that is quiet and dignified, some, like Mr. Houser, wear it in a vainglorious way, as if it were a suit of pomposity.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know what it is that you just said,” Elmer said. “But it sort of sounded to me like you don’t take that much of a likin’ to the son of a bitch, neither.”

  Duff chuckled. “That is most astute of you, Elmer.”

  “Astute. Is that a good thing?”

  “Aye, ’tis a very good thing.” Duff finished putting in the last screw. “Ye can be for letting it down now, I think it’ll swing free.”

  Elmer released his hold on the gate, and Duff pushed it closed, opened it, and closed it again.

  “There, we fixed it.”

  “You fixed it, you mean,” Elmer said. “All I done was hold on to it.”

  “Hello, someone is coming,” Duff said.

  Looking down the long road that led toward the arch in which the name of the ranch, Sky Meadow, was worked in wrought iron, they saw a rider approaching. He was clearly coming toward the main compound, and he was pushing five Black Angus cows.

  “That’s Percy Gaines, ain’t it?” Elmer asked.

  “Aye, ’tis at that,” Duff replied.

  At one time Percy had worked full-time on Sky Meadow, and even now, he often augmented his income by working for Duff. But last year he had started his own ranch.

  “Wonder what it is that he’s a-doin’ with them five cows?”

  The two men watched as the young cowboy brought the five cows all the way up to the corral.

  “Good morning, Percy,” Duff greeted.

  “Good morning, Mr. MacCallister, Mr. Gleason,” Percy replied. “I been roundin’ up m’ cattle the last few days, ’n yesterday I found these five critters wearin’ your brand, so I brung ’em back to you.”

  “That was a decent thing for ye to do, lad,” Duff replied. “Would you be for enjoying a breakfast with Elmer, Wang, and me?”

  “Better be careful afore you say yes,” Elmer warned. “On this ranch you’re as likely to wind up with haggis or rice ’n weeds as you are with bacon ’n eggs. Nothin’ American.”

  Duff chuckled. “I believe Wang said he would be serving biscuits and gravy this morning. Is that ‘American’ enough for you?”

  “Well, hell, why didn’t you say so?” Elmer replied with a wide grin.

  When they stepped into the house a moment later, they were greeted with the rich aromas of sausage and baked biscuits.

  “Hello, Wang,” Percy greeted.

  “It is good to see you again, Percy,” Wang replied.

  “Smells good in here,” Percy said.

  After being rescued by Duff, Wang had dedicated himself to serving Sky Meadow. And though he had initially been hired as a cook, over the last three years, he had become much more than a cook.

  “How’s your ranch coming along?” Duff asked Percy after the four men sat down for breakfast.

  “It’s comin’ along just fine,” Percy replied with a proud smile. “I’m runnin’ a little more ’n a hundred ’n fifty head now. Oh, ’n I’ve named the ranch. I’m callin’ it The Queen.”

  “The Queen, is it? This is just a guess now, Percy, but I’d be for saying that it would nae be Queen Victoria that the ranch is named for. ’Tis thinking, I am, that it would be for the young lass ye have waiting for you back in Kansas City.”

  “Ha! You got that right,” Percy said. “Only she don’t know it yet. After we get married ’n I bring her back out here, I’ll tell her then that the ranch is named for her. It’ll be a big surprise.”

  “When are you a-plannin’ on gettin’ yerself hitched?” Elmer asked.

  “Soon as roundup is done. I ain’t got all that many cows to round up, ’n that’s what I’m doin’ now. That’s how I found them Sky Meadow cows.”

  “Aye, ’n ’tis appreciative I am to ye for bringin’ them back to me.”

  “Well, sir, I’m wantin’ to grow my herd fast as I can, but I’ll not be addin’ other folk’s beeves to my own.”

  “You’re a good man, Percy,” Elmer said. “And don’t you pay no nevermind to any o’ them bad things Wang says about you. I don’t care what this here heathen says, I think you’re a good man,” Elmer said.

  “What?” Percy replied.

  “Elmer is teasing you,” Duff said. “Wang has made nae derogatory comments about you.”

  “Elmer would speak without thinking, as he would sleep without resting,” Wang said.

  “Now, see there?” Elmer said, pointing to Wang. “That heathen Celestial is always saying things like that, things that there don’t nobody else know what it is that he’s a-talkin’ about.”

  Despite the seemingly contrary interchange between Elmer and Wang Chow, the two men were the best of friends, and because Percy had worked on Sky Meadow, he was well aware that there was genuine cordiality in the barbs.

  After breakfast, Percy told the others good-bye, then left for his own ranch.

  “I just hope that little ole gal he’s got waitin’ for ’im back in Kansas City knows what a good man she’s goin’ to be gettin’,” Elmer said as they watched the young rancher ride away. “Damn, I’ve let m’ coffee get a little cold.”

  “Elmer, I’ll be leavin’ things in your hands for a while, as I’ll be ridin’ into town this morning,” Duff said.

  “Did you hear that, you heathen?” Elmer said to Wang. “It’s my hands he’s leavin’ the ranch in, not yours.”

  Elmer raised his cup to take another drink, but before it reached his lips, Wang snatched it from his hand. “What the . . . ?” Elmer started to say in a startled voice, but before he finished his comment a new cup was put in his hands. Elmer took a swallow and saw that it was hot.

  “Did you not say that your coffee was cold?” Wang asked.

  “You ain’t human, Wang, you know that? There ain’t no way a human man can do all them things you can do.”

  Wang smiled.

  “And why are you grinnin’ like that?”

  “I believe that, my friend, is what one would call an enigmatic smile,” Duff said with a chuckle.

  Chapter Seven

  Some seven miles distant from Sky Meadow, in an area of open range land known as the Pine Flats, Kenny Prosser was watching over his herd when he saw Turley riding toward him.

  “Good morning, Mr. Turley,” he said, greeting the man who had once been his boss.

  “Good morning, Kenny,” Turley replied.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a close look at your cows.”

  “Why? I mean, I don’t mind, but what are you looking for?”

  “Houser wants me to make certain . . .”

  “Oh, I see. He wants to make sure that I don’t have any of his cows,” Prosser said. “Go ahead, take a good look. I ain’t got nothin’ to hide.”

  As Turley began riding through the small herd, Prosser rode with him.

  “He ain’t really worried none that I’ve got any of his cows, is he? What he’s pissed off about is that I got my cows to the Pine Flats before he did.”

  “You know Twin Peaks has always been usin’ the Pine Flats,” Turley said.

  Prosser laughed. “Yeah, I know it. It serves the new guy right that I got here first.”

  “All right,” Turley said when he had examined every cow in the herd. “I didn’t see none o’ our cows there. But, Kenny, if I was you, I’d get your cows away from here.”

  “Why? This is public land, ’n you know it.”

  “Yeah, but they’s somethin’ about Houser that’s kind of troublesome.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I don’t like to carry tales ’bout someone I’m ridin’ for, ’n truth to tell I don’t really know him all that good, I mean, bein’ as he ain’t been here all that long. But I’ve kind of got it in mind that he ain’t the kind of person you want to make mad.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know nothin’ about ’im, ’n I don’t care to know,” Prosser said. “But I’ve got as much right here as anyone does, ’n you know that, Mr. Turley. This here is open range, for anyone as wants to use it.”

  “I know you do, Kenny, ’n I ain’t never goin’ to do nothin’ to make you leave. But like I say, Mr. Houser, well, he ain’t like Mr. Prescott was, who, if you ’member, was just the same nice to ever’ one, whether he be an ordinary rider or one o’ the other big ranchers. This feller, well, I can’t promise you what he’ll do.”

  “All right,” Prosser said. “I’ll get m’ cows back to my own grass today.”

  “I ain’t rushin’ you or nothin’, but if you want, I’ll help you drive ’em back.”

  “Yeah, thanks, I’ll appreciate that.”

  * * *

  “Kenny ain’t got none of our . . . uh, that is, Prosser ain’t got none of your cows mixed in with his’n, ’n besides that, he’s moved his cows back to his own place,” Turley said, reporting on his visit with Prosser.

  “He may not have had any of my cows mixed in with the cows you examined,” Houser replied. “But I’ve no doubt but that he and all the other small ranchers are increasing their herd at my expense.”

  “I don’t know. It could be, I suppose. But to be honest, Mr. Houser, you ain’t been here all that long, ’n you ain’t lost no cows at all since you come. I know, ’cause I been keepin’ a pretty good track on it.”

  “We are losing grazing range and watering holes, though, are we not?”

  “Well, yes, sir, some of what used to be free range for us has been took up by homesteadin’, that’s true, and even what is still free range is bein’ used, not only by Kenny, but by all the small ranchers. But I reckon, bein’ as it is free range, that they got a right to use it. ’N anyhow, I don’t see that it hurts none, I mean, seein’ as they ain’t none of ’em got enough cows to really graze the range out, ’n right now you ain’t got enough cows to overgraze your own land.”