Desperado

"I'd like the job Zeb. Like to stay put for a bit. But just so you understand, if the cowboys push me I'll push back."

Zeb offered his hand. "Reckon we can work together. Come over to the house and get washed up for supper. You can sleep in the barn."

He introduced his wife Lisa to me. "Sit down Mr. Lowell, supper is ready."

For the next two weeks I worked my tail off. Zeb hadn't been joking there was too much work for one man. The first thing I learned was how to mend barb wire fences. The rest of the work was pretty much what I'd done on our ranch.

One morning just after breakfast, Zeb stepped outside, stopped, and stared toward the south.

"What wrong Zeb?" I asked.

"Hear that? He asked pointing to the south with his chin. I listened and nodded. "It's a herd headin for Pecos. Sounds like they're comin right for us"

I went to the barn and saddled my horse. Strapping on my gun belt and putting my rifle in the saddle scabbard I mounted.

"Leavin are you?" Zeb asked.

"No sir. I'll go say hello and ask them to drive the cattle around your place," I answered with a grim smile. I put the spurs to my horse and rode to the farm's boundary fence.

I stopped my horse, pulled my rifle and rested the butt on my hip. Two scouts from the herd rode closer. "Howdy," I said. "Reckon y'all better go back and tell them drovers to change their direction."

"What'da mean Mister?" The biggest of the two asked.

"You're not drivin that herd across this farm."

The men looked at me for almost a minute then turned their horses and rode back to the herd. I lit a cigar and waited. Shortly the two scouts and an older man rode back.

"I'm Jeff Langer, this is my herd. What do you mean I'm not going to cross this land? This is open range."

"Not anymore Mr. Langer. Zeb Thomas has settled this farm all legal like. You'll have to find another way to Pecos."

"And where do you suggest I take my herd youngster?"

"Take em East or take em West or take em to Hell, I don't care. But you're not drivin across this farm."

"And you're gonna stop us, all by yourself," Langer said smiling. "Son, there's three of us here and another dozen back with the herd. Think you can stop all of us?"

"No sir, but if trouble starts I'll shoot you first. At this range I can't miss and would probably kill you," I replied staring him in the eye. "After that it won't make much difference to either one of us. Turn your cattle Mr. Langer."

The man on Langer's right said, "Aw Hell" and pulled his pistol. I dropped the barrel of my rifle and shot him out of his saddle. Like Jolly had taught me I'd picked my target. The man slowly sat up on the ground, holding his shoulder.

"Take your man and go Mr. Langer before someone gets killed," I ordered.

I stayed at the property line for another hour until I could see the herd passing to the west of Zeb's farm.

"Heard shootin," Zeb said when I returned to the farm house.

"Had to shoot a man to make em understand that they weren't gonna cross your land."

I stayed with the Zeb and Lisa until early fall. The last herd of the season had come and gone. I'd had another discussion or two with cattlemen but hadn't had to shoot anyone else. The word got passed to bypass the Thomas farm.

"Time for me to move on Zeb," I told him one evening after supper. "Been here long enough."

"You could stay Clint. I'd make you a partner if you did," Zeb offered.

"Obliged but I'm not a farmer and sittin in one place too long makes me edgy. I'll be movin on in the mornin."

*******************

"How old were you Clint?" Sam asked. He was writing in a notebook as Clint told his story.

"Reckon I was 23 or there about," he replied. "But as they say I was old beyond my years."

"Where'd you go after the Thomas farm? You stay in Texas?"

"Yep. Thought about going back to Arizona but figured I'd end up killing someone or being killed. Them killing Jolly and forcin me off the ranch still didn't set well with me. Decided I'd better stay in Texas."

"That's it? You decided you'd stay in Texas. That's not the whole story though is it?" Sam encouraged Clint to continue.

"No I guess not. I left the Thomas place and rode north by northeast for four or five days until I got to Odessa. Weren't in a hurry to get nowhere, you understand, so I didn't push hard and rode easy every day. Stayed there for a couple of months and then drifted on again. I rode south to...."

"Wait a minute Clint. What happened while you were in Odessa?" Sam asked. "I've done some research and I know you ended up owning some land there. How'd that come about?"

"Nosy little cuss aren't you?" Clint said grinning at the young writer.

"Reckon you could say that," Sam replied stressing his Texas twang. "What happened?"

Clint chuckled at the boy's put on accent. "Well, you see...."

********************

I rode into Odessa and treated myself to the three things I usually did when I came onto a town; a soft bed, a good meal or two, and a visit to a saloon. Wasn't a big drinker but I did enjoy my whiskey after days or weeks on the trail. Stayed in Odessa for three or four days and decided it was time to move on.

My money situation was still good; I still had most of the $600 that Joseph Dunston had contributed to my travelin fund and there was close to $2000 saved from my job with Miss Lorena. There was no need of me lookin for work just yet so I'd decided to roam around until I found somewheres I wanted to lite.

I was putting the supplies I'd bought at the general mercantile in my pack saddle when I saw a face I knowed. Walking down the wooden sidewalk was Miss Lilly, one of Miss Lorena's ladies. She was the one that headed back to her home. Guess she didn't make it.

Miss Lilly looked up as she passed me and stopped. She got a big smile on her face. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again. How are you Clint?"

"Just fine Miss Lilly. Thought you were going back east."

She stepped closer and replied, "I did go home but my folks didn't want me there. You know cause of what I'd been and so came back west."

"I'm sorry as hell it didn't work out for you Miss Lilly."

"I'm not. Coming to Odessa was the best thing that I could've done." Miss Lilly was all smiles. "I started that millinery shop like I wanted and I met my husband."

"That's just fine Miss Lilly, I'm happy for you." I thought for several seconds. "Don't reckon it'd be a good idea for me to meet him," I said with a grin.

Miss Lilly didn't return my grin. "He was killed last month."

"Sorry Miss Lilly. How'd it happen?"

She explained to me that her husband, Rafe James, had supposedly put the ranch up to cover a bet in a poker game. He lost. Rafe claimed his coffee had been spiked and said he hadn't put the ranch into the poker pot.

Royce Littleton was the man who won the poker game. He had witnesses that said Rafe called the bet and used the ranch as his stake. Littleton told Rafe and Miss Lilly that he'd give them one month to come up with the money. If they didn't he'd take over the ranch. Rafe had gone to the County Sheriff two days later, demanding an investigation.

"They found his body about two miles from our place," Miss Lilly said. "They said he was drunk, fell off his horse and broke his neck." She looked up at me. "Clint, Rafe didn't drink, he couldn't. One taste of alcohol made him deathly sick. And Rafe never fell off a horse in his life." Her eyes were hard and intense as she went on, "Littleton or his men killed Rafe as sure as I'm standing here and there ain't a thing I can do about it"

"How much do you owe?" I asked. Miss Lilly had been good to me and I thought maybe I could help her.

"Two thousand dollars and it might as well be the moon," she answered. "I can't get hold of that kind of money."

"Where do I find this Royce Littleton? Maybe he'll feel sorry for a widow woman and give you more time," I suggested. "Or maybe I can pay your loan for you."

"He'd have to give me a couple of years. I can't work the ranch and with what I make from the shop it'd take two years or more to pay him back. And I can't ask you for the money. Sides where would you get that much?"

"Never you mind Miss Lilly. You took good care of me and taught me a lot at Miss Lorena's. At least I can talk to Littleton. Where can I find him?" When she hesitated I added, "Don't look like you've got much choice."

"If you're gonna talk money, you need to see his lawyer, Justin Tyler. He's got an office over the bank down on the corner yonder."

"Y'all go on back to your shop," I told her. "I'll go talk to this Tyler and see what can be done. Meet you in an hour or so."

I rode to the bank, put my saddle bags over my shoulder, and climbed the outside staircase to Justin Tyler's office. Knocking on the door I went in. There was a big man, big as in fat, sitting behind the desk. This man sure ain't missed many meals, I thought. He looked to be about 50 and had a double chin and fat pudgy fingers.

"Mr. Tyler?" I asked and he nodded. "I'm a friend of Mrs. Lilly James. Like to talk to you about her debt, if I might."

"Not much to talk about young man," Tyler said. "Mrs. James owes my client Mr. Littleton $2000, due next week it is."

"Well I was wondering if I could pay her debt and get some kind of receipt saying she'd paid in full."

Tyler sat up straighter in his chair. "As long it's paid I can give you a receipt and a letter saying the debt has been paid."

"That'd make sure her ranch was free and clear again?" I asked. Tyler nodded. I sat the saddle bags on a chair and reached inside. Taking a leather pouch out I counted $2000 in bank notes and Double Eagle gold coins. "Sure makes my saddle bags a lot lighter," I said smiling.

Tyler had a strange look on his face. I think it was greed and pleasure looking at all those Double Eagles.

"Could I have that receipt and letter now Mr. Tyler?"

He shook himself. "Of course young man." He wrote a receipt for the $2000 and a letter stating Miss Lilly's debt had been paid in full.

"Thank you sir. I'll see that Mrs. James gets this right away." I left his office and rode over to Miss Lilly's shop. "Here you are Miss Lilly," I said handing her the receipt and the letter. "Your debts been paid in full and your ranch is safe." She thanked me and asked me to stay for a few days. I claimed I needed to get on the trail and left her. I made camp outside of town, changed into dark clothes and rode back to town in the late afternoon. Sitting on my horse near the bank I waited until it closed. After everyone had left I quietly climbed the stairs to Tyler's office again. Just before I stepped inside, I tied a bandana over the lower part of my face. It wasn't much of a disguise but I was hoping Tyler would pay more attention to my .44 pointed at his head than he did to me.

Tyler was still behind his desk. He looked up and stared at the barrel of my pistol. I walked over to the floor safe by his desk.

"Open the safe," I ordered deepening my voice. He stood, worked the combination, and pulled the small door out of the way. "Put the money on the desk." Tyler dug into the safe and piled several thousand dollars on the desk. "Whose money is it and how much is there?"

"Ten thousand," Tyler replied. "All but $200 belongs to Royce Littleton."

"Count out five thousand and hand it to me." He handed me the money and sat back down. "Tell you what Tyler, you tell Littleton you was robbed. I'll take this," I said holding up half the money, "and you keep the other half for yourself."

As I talked I tied Tyler's hands behind him and tied him to his chair. "Give me 4 or 5 hours before you report the robbery and keep five thousand for yourself. No one will know except me and I'll be long gone. If you report it sooner and I get caught so will you."

He nodded. I stepped closer and hit him with my fist over his eye. He yelped in pain.

"That'll leave quite a mark and make it look like you put up a fight," I told him. "Be smart and keep the money Mr. Tyler." I left a lot more quickly than I'd come. Riding out to my camp I picked up my pack horse and rode southeast toward San Antonio.

********************

"I learned later that Miss Lilly had the deed redone givin me half interest in the ranch," Clint said to Sam with a big grin. "Once I got settled she sent me my share of the profits every year. After she died, I sold the place to a youngster from back east who wanted to be a real Wild West rancher." The old man looked inside himself for a minute and then smiled. "Miss Lilly was quite a woman, she was."

Sam laughed until he had tears in his eyes. "You were a desperado weren't you Clint?"

"A desperado? Don't know about that. I never took nothin from nobody who didn't deserve it. I never shot nobody who didn't have it comin." Clint smiled and said, "The law might not of seen it that way though." He was quiet remembering back to what Sam called his 'desperado' days.

"How long were you in San Antonio?" Sam asked hoping to keep the older man talking.

"Took me a while to get there. I made a few stops along the way," Clint said. "Helped some cattlemen in Fort Stockton chase down some rustlers and stayed on for a spell."

"Chase down some rustlers? I thought you didn't like cattlemen."

"Particular cattlemen I don't. These weren't none of them." Clint grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "Anyways the pay was real good."

"You caught the rustlers for money? You were a bounty hunter like Tom Horn up in Wyoming," Sam said surprised at Clint's actions.

"Not like Horn. I never killed no one; just brought them or the cattle back." Clint paused for several seconds and quietly added, "Course the cattlemen hung em when I brought em back."

"How long a spell?"

"Huh?"

"How long were you at Fort Stockton?"

"A year, maybe a little longer. Then I stopped for several days in Sonora exploring those caves and caverns near town. All in all I guess it took me about a year and a half to make it to San Antonio," Clint explained.

"You sure didn't keep any kind of schedule did you?" Sam asked with a grin.

"No need. Didn't have any place I had to be. But I rode into trouble in San Antonio; I just didn't know it for a few days."

"What kind of trouble?"

********************

I got a room at a boarding house. I'd spent a lot of time trackin rustlers and such and figured I deserved to pamper myself a little. You know my old stand bys; a soft bed, good meals, and a couple of visits to a saloon. Was the third night at the saloon that trouble jumped up.

Knocking back my first whiskey of the evening I looked around the saloon. Sitting at a poker table was a man I never thought I'd see again. It'd been four or five years since I'd last laid eyes on him but Marshal Harland from Pleasant Valley was sittin in on the game.

Turning my back to the Marshal I thought, maybe I'll leave San Antonio sooner than I'd planned. Didn't know the situation back in Pleasant Valley but I did know that the Marshal and his deputies had been lookin for me back there. I didn't want him to find me here. If he tried to take me back or arrest me I'd have to kill him. I wasn't goin back to Arizona so the cattlemen or the sheep men could hang me on some trumped up charge.

I walked to the swinging doors to leave when I heard a loud voice say, "Clint Lowell. There's a reward poster out on you."

Slowly I turned; Harland was standing with his hand on his gun butt. "Hello Marshal Harland," I said. "What are y'all doin in Texas?"

"Ain't a Marshal no more. But it's still Mr. Harland to you boy."

"How can you arrest me if you're not the law?"

"Maybe I ain't the law but I can still collect the reward for bringin you in. Drop your gun boy and put up your hands," Harland ordered. Another man at the table stood to back Harland's play.

"Don't reckon I will Harland. I'm not gonna let you take me back." I stared at him and the other man for a few seconds.

Harland started to pull his pistol and his partner reached for his own weapon at the same time. Jolly had taught me well. Before he could clear leather, I shot Harland in the chest and quickly put a round into his partner. Both men fell to the floor. Not seeing any others with Harland, I turned and walked out of the saloon. Reckon my stay in San Antonio is about over.

I went to the boarding house, got my gear, went to the stable to get my horses and rode out of town at a fast lope. Maybe the witnesses in the saloon would say Harland drew first and maybe they wouldn't. Either way the fact that I was a wanted man with a price on my head didn't make me feel real easy stayin in San Antonio.

Late afternoon of the second day I rode into New Braunfels. It was a farming and ranching area with a lot of German settlers. Maybe I should just hunker down for a spell, I thought. I'd been there for ten days or so when the bartender at my favorite saloon, it was the only saloon in town, asked what I worked at. Looks like I need to get a job to keep people from wondering who I was, I thought.

"Looking for work," I told him. "My stake has about run out and I've laid around long enough. Got any idea who might need some help. I can run cattle or horses, know a bit about ranchin and can even mend fences." My stake was in real good shape but I thought it never hurt to work when I could. Who knows when the money would run out?

"Most of the ranches around here are full up far as I know," he replied. He looked thoughtful as he poured another drink. "Reckon you could talk to Mrs. Conroy out to the Circle C. Hear she needs some help with her place. Problem is she can't pay a full wage so most don't want to work for her."

"Well, I don't need much. Just a place to sleep, a meal or two and enough to buy a drink on payday. Where can I find Mrs. Conroy?"

"Take the north road out of town. Bout ten miles you'll come to a big rock butte. Take the trail to the left and the Circle C is another two or three miles." He looked at me and added, "She's a widow woman and from what I hear, she's a mite skittish. Took a shot at the last man who rode in unannounced so make sure you let her know you're comin in"

I checked out of the boarding house the next morning. Even if I didn't sign on with Mrs. Conroy I was gonna move on. Too many questions had started to be asked around town about the stranger who didn't have to work. About half an hour after I passed the rock butte I crested a rise. Down in a small valley, in a clearing I could see a ranch house, barn and corrals. Must be the Conroy place, I thought.

Following the wagon trail toward the house I stopped at the edge of the clearing. "Hello, the house," I shouted. Minding what the bartender had said; I didn't want to get shot.

The front door to the house opened and a young woman stepped out onto the porch. She carried what looked like a Winchester. "Who are you and what do you want?" The woman asked.

"Name's Clint Lowell ma'am. Looking for work but if you don't need a hired hand I'd like to water my horses before I ride on."

"Come ahead slow and keep your hands where I can see them," she ordered.

I rode toward the house at a walk keeping both of my hands on the saddle horn. The bartender said Mrs. Conroy was a widow so I didn't expect the young woman standing on the porch. She looked to be no more than 18 or so. She reminded me of Molly; the young working girl from Miss Lorena's who I'd been about half in love with. Mrs. Conroy had the same reddish blond hair with freckles across her nose. She was taller than Molly and had blue eyes.

"Clint Lowell, Mrs. Conroy," I said. "Folks in town said you might need a hired hand."

"Get down and water your horses. We'll talk a bit," she suggested.

As I led my horses to a watering trough, Mrs. Conroy brought a bucket pulled fresh from the well and dipper so I could drink too. "What kind of work can you do, Mr. Lowell?" She asked.