A Chuckwagon Ride to Safety

Jake walked back and sat down in a chair across from the couch.

"You want to know about Maria. It's not what you might be thinking. She's an orphan I brought back to the ranch after I found her mother and father both dead. She doesn't know that, by the way, so please don't tell her. I think she suspects they're both dead, but she doesn't need to know the truth, not until she gets old enough to understand what happened to them.

"I was riding along Puck Creek one day five years ago looking for some cattle that were supposed to be ranging on this side of the creek. The creek was high enough I didn't think they'd cross on their own, and I was right. I picked up the trail of about a dozen cows along with two sets of hoof prints. Somebody had come across the creek, rounded up a dozen head, and driven them back across Puck Creek.

"I crossed the creek and started following that trail. A few minutes later, the trail went past a little house with a corral beside it. I thought maybe the people who lived there might have seen the rustlers, so I went to talk to them.

"Well, the rustlers had been there, and it wasn't pretty. The man had been stabbed in the chest and probably died pretty fast. The woman...well, she wasn't so lucky. She had been stabbed in the chest too, but not before they'd taken off her clothes and...well you can imagine what they did to her.

"I saw a doll on the bed and figured they must have a little girl, but I couldn't find one until Maria came walking from the creek with a handful of daisies. I couldn't let her see her folks like that, so I told her they wanted her to come live with me. I didn't really give her a chance to say no. I just swung her up behind my saddle and then got on the horse and brought her here.

"She doesn't really remember much about that day other than me bringing her here. I think losing her mother and father was too much for her to get her head around, so her mind just forgot about that day.

"The next day, a couple of my hands and I went back and buried Maria's mother and father on my side of the creek and as soon as I could get them from town, I took two stone markers out and put them on the graves. I didn't know their last name, so the stones just say what Maria told me their names were -- Santiago and Andrea.

"Maria never asked me about her mother and father again, and I never told her anything. When she's old enough to understand I'll take her to their graves and tell her most of what happened. I'll leave out the part about her mother though. No child needs to hear that about their mother."

Charity smiled.

"You seem to like helping people who need help."

Jake shrugged.

"I couldn't just leave her there. She'd have died, and I couldn't have that on my conscience. Here, she'll grow up to be a woman and she'll have a future. In case you hadn't noticed, she's becoming a very pretty young woman. I doubt she'll have trouble finding a husband."

Charity nodded.

"Yes, I saw that. She's also a pretty smart little girl for her age, and she seems to be proud of what she can do."

Charity chuckled then.

"She said she'd teach me how to make tortillas."

Jake smiled.

"That's because my old cook, Jacinta, sort of became Maria's mother. Jacinta taught Maria to cook and do all the kitchen chores and how to speak and read English. She also taught Maria how to behave like a proper lady, at least how proper Mexican ladies behave. You couldn't find a nicer woman than Jacinta in all of Texas, and Maria is becoming just like her.

"What Maria needs now is a woman to help her grow from a little girl to a woman. That's part of the job of cook. If you decide to stay, do you think you could do that part too?"

Charity hadn't considered that and she wasn't sure.

"I don't know. You know what I was. Is that what you want Maria to learn?"

Jake shook his head.

"No, of course not, but it's because of what you were that I thought you might be the woman to teach Maria. You know what that leads to, so you'll be able to tell her what not to do as well as what she should do."

Charity looked at her hands.

"You're putting a lot of faith in a woman you don't really even know."

"Well, in the Union Army, I had to put my faith in men I didn't know all the time. It doesn't take long to sort out who'll stand and fight and who'll run. I figure you're a fighter, not a runner. That's the kind of woman I need here on this ranch, a woman who'll not run the other way when things get tough. Believe me, there aren't many women like that around. You're the only one I've met since I came out here."

Charity wondered if Jake meant what it sounded like he was saying.

"It sounds like you're talking about a wife, not a cook."

Jake smiled.

"No. I'm just saying if I had a wife, she'd have to be a fighter, that's all."

Charity decided she'd stay for a month. That would give her time to see if she liked living so far away from everything and if she didn't, she'd have time to make a trip to town to see if she could find work there.

After the first week, she found that life on the ranch was busy, but also relaxing for her. She didn't have to worry about having a place to stay or food to eat, and with so many men around she wasn't looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was following her. She and Maria cooked all the meals for Jake and themselves, and on the second Sunday, she and Maria helped the bunkhouse cook fix a big meal for all the cowhands to celebrate that year's cattle drive.

The new bunkhouse cook, Jose Diaz, had killed and dressed out a young steer and then started it roasting over an open fire. Every so often, he'd turn the steer and then baste it with a sauce made with brown sugar, apple cider vinegar, and a few chili peppers. By suppertime, the steer was cooked through and the meat was so tender it didn't really need a knife to cut it. Charity and Maria made a huge pot of the potato salad Charity's mother always made as well as a pot of baked beans.

After that meal, all the cowhands praised her potato salad and baked beans.

One of them summed it up and made Charity blush.

"Ma'am, I ain't had no tater salad like yours since I left home and them beans was better'n anything the bunkhouse cook makes. Ma'am, Mister Donaldson say's you're trying to figger out if you're gonna stay here on the ranch. We's sure hopin'' you do. Mister Donaldson's old cook was a good cook, but you're a whole heap better."

He looked at the ground then.

"You're also a lot nicer to look at. Mister Donaldson thinks that way too. He gits all moony-eyed when he looks at you. I'm purty sure he wants you to stay too."

After that Sunday, Charity began to feel at home. Cooking wasn't hard and Maria helped her, so she had time to walk around and watch the cowhands as they worked. She'd always assumed that the owner of a ranch lived a life of ease while his cowhands did all the work. What she saw was that Jake was always right there in the middle of whatever they were doing, be that branding calves or training horses or nursing an injured horse or cow. She understood why all his cowhands were loyal to him. That loyalty paid off the third week she was on the ranch.

She was watching the men break in a new horse when Nelson, one of the cowhands, came galloping up to the corral. He pulled his horse to a skidding stop and then ran up to Jake.

"Mister Donaldson, we was bringin' in them cows you wanted moved from the middle pasture. We'd got 'em all together and was startin' back when six men come ridin' up to us. They asked if we knew if a woman named Charity Meadows was on the ranch.

"We done what you said and told them we'd never heard of a woman named that. They said we was lyin' and pulled their revolvers and said we'd better tell 'em where she was.

"We was kinda spread out because there was about fifty cows, and Billy was farthest away, so they didn't see him pull his Winchester out of the scabbard. They heard him work the lever though, and that's when the shootin' started. The rest of us grabbed our Winchesters and jumped off our horses so's we'd have the cows between us and them.

"Billy got two and me an' Jack an' Mason got the other four. Mason got kicked in the leg by a cow, but it ain't too bad. He's hurtin' but we wrapped up his leg so he can ride an' he's coming back. Billy and Jack are moving them cows.

"You want us to take a couple hands and go bury them fellers?"

Jake frowned.

"No. Leave them there so anybody else coming here can see what will happen if they try it again."

Charity had overheard the conversation, and when Jake started back toward the house, she ran to catch up with him.

"It was more men from Derrick, wasn't it?"

Jake nodded.

"I'm sure of it. Nobody else would have known your name. I think it's time to give Horace Derrick a warning he can't ignore."

"How are you going to do that? He's up in Abilene."

"I'm going to write him a letter and have one of my men deliver it in person."

That afternoon, Jake sat down at his desk and wrote the letter.

Horace, this plan of yours to kill Charity Meadows has got to stop and it has to stop now. You've already lost a dozen men, and you'll continue to lose more if you send them to my ranch to get her.

My proposal is this. If you stop sending men after Charity, I won't do anything. If you don't, I will send word to each rancher in East and Central Texas that I'll start paying them one cent a pound over what you'd pay them. I'll collect the cattle here in Texas and make one drive to Abilene. Then I'll sell them at a lower price than you've been getting and ship them East myself. You'll have no cattle to sell and you'll be flat broke within two years at the most. You know I have the connections in Kansas City and the money to do it. It will cost me some time and effort, but I'll make a lot more by selling the cattle myself than by selling them to you.

If the man who delivers this letter to you doesn't come back with your agreement to stop this, I will make it my business to make sure you can never threaten Charity again.

Jacob Donaldson

Lucky D Ranch

The next morning, the 1st of August, one of the younger cowhands, Daniel, mounted the fastest horse on the ranch, checked the revolver on his hip, and then set out for Abilene with Jake's letter in his saddlebag. Jake figured it would take him ten days to get there and another ten to get back.

It was about suppertime on the 20th of August when Daniel rode up to the main house and knocked on the door. When Charity answered the door, he asked to speak to Mister Donaldson. Charity went to get Jake and then went back to the kitchen to wait.

A few minutes later Jake walked into the kitchen with a paper in his hand. He handed it to Charity.

"I guess Horace thinks I'm bluffing."

Charity read the words of the letter first and was surprised that Jake would do such a thing. When she came to the last paragraph, she was stunned. She knew Jake wanted to help her, but she'd never dreamed he'd go so far. Then she read the hand scrawled reply at the bottom. It just said "Go to Hell".

When Charity looked up at Jake, he said, "Charity, I have to leave the ranch for a while, maybe a month at the most. I can't send a man to do what has to be done. I have to go myself. The men will keep you safe while I'm gone, and after I come back, you won't have to worry any more."

Charity couldn't say anything for a few seconds because she was afraid of what Jake was going to do.

"Jake, don't tell me you're going to Abilene to kill Horace Derrick. I won't let you do that."

Jake smiled.

"No, that's not what I'm going to do, though the thought has crossed my mind a few times. Killing him would be too quick though, and it would make me no better than he is. There's another way to fix this problem, a way that will hurt Horace more than killing him. Wait until I get back and I'll tell you all about it."

Jake left the next morning after telling every cowhand on the ranch that he was leaving them in charge of protecting Charity.

"Men, I don't care if nothing else gets done while I'm away. When I get back, I expect to find Charity the same as she is today. I want three men on the house round the clock, and if you see anybody you don't know, don't stop to ask them any questions. Just send them to hell where they belong."

For the first week, Charity tried to carry on as before. She and Maria fixed meals for themselves and then cleaned up the kitchen. Between meals, Charity tried to go out to see what the cowhands were doing, but the three men guarding the house wouldn't let her. As Billy put it, "Ma'am, if you stay in the house, we know where you are and ain't no man gonna get even up the first step. If you go walkin' around, we can't keep you safe."

It was the second week when she realized she was worried about Jake more than about herself. What was he doing? She knew Horace Derrick would be ruthless in getting what he wanted. What more could Jake do to convince him to leave her alone? What if Horace sent some of his men after Jake? She thought Jake could handle a couple, but more than that...

The third week was pretty bad for Charity, and that was because of Maria. They were making a chicken pie for supper when Maria stopped working and looked up at Charity.

"Miss Meadows, I miss Mister Donaldson. Do you miss him too?"

Charity smiled.

"Of course I do, Maria. Why do you ask?"

Maria shrugged.

"He said he'd come back to us. Do you think he will?

"Oh, I'm sure he will."

"My mother and father didn't come back."

Charity stopped rolling out the pie dough.

"Maria, what Mister Donaldson is doing is different from your mother and father."

Maria started to cry.

"I know. I just don't want Mister Donaldson to be dead like my mother and father."

Charity felt her eyes fill with tears. Maria had made Charity let loose everything she'd tried to hide from herself. She hugged the little girl to her breast.

"I don't either, Maria. What we have to do is believe that he'll come back, and if we do, he will."

"If he does come back, will you stay here? I don't want you to leave."

That was another question Charity hadn't been able to answer to herself. Part of her wanted to see what Texas had to offer. She hadn't acted on that because she was afraid of more men sent by Derrick to kill her. The other part of her was happier and felt safer than she remembered ever being. Did she want to give up that happiness and safety for something unknown? She'd done that once before and the results had gotten her into this situation. What made her think the next time would be any better?

Charity looked at Maria. The young girl was wiping her eyes, but she smiled when Charity stroked her cheek. That smile and her own that Maria's smile caused made Charity realize that without knowing it, she'd started to love Maria like she'd have loved her own daughter. No, it was more than that, she thought. She couldn't leave either Jake or Maria.

"Maria, he'll come back, and I promise I'll stay."

Starting thirty days after Jake left, Charity and Maria spent almost all their free time sitting in front of the window and watching for him. For two days, they saw nothing but Billy, Hank, and Aaron on the porch with their rifles and revolvers. It was the thirty-third day since Jake had ridden off that Maria startled Charity.

"He's back. Mister Donaldson came back just like you said he would."

Charity jumped up, ran to the door, and then ran outside. Yes, it was Jake. She couldn't see his face yet, but she recognized his horse and hat and the way he sat in the saddle. She didn't ask Billy or Hank or Aaron if she could go. She just ran down the steps and then toward Jake.

When he stopped his horse and got off, Charity ran up to him and put her arms around his neck.

"Jake, I'm so glad you're back. I don't care what happened as long as you're back here."

Jake chuckled.

"If you're so happy, why are you crying?"

Charity pressed her cheek against Jake's chest and said, "Just shut up and hold me for a while."

Jake put his arms around Charity and held her until Maria ran up. Then he pushed Charity away gently and grinned.

"Maria, I brought you something all the way from Abilene. Want to see it?"

Jake untied a large bundle wrapped in a tarpaulin from behind his bedroll. Inside the tarpaulin was a package wrapped in white paper.

"I figure since you're about all grown up, you needed some grown-up dresses. How 'bout if you go see if I got the size right?"

When Maria ran off, Jake pulled a newspaper out of the saddlebag and handed it to Charity.

"Charity, this is what I've been doing, and you don't have anything to worry about anymore."

It was the newspaper from Abilene, Kansas, and on the front page was the headline, "Abilene Cattle Buyer Dead By Own Hand". Charity read the short article twice and then looked up at Jake.

"He killed himself? Why?"

"Let's go in the house. I need a drink of water. Then I'll explain."

Once they were in the living room, Jake smiled.

"What happened is Horace decided being dead was better than what he was facing, so he shot himself in the head."

"What do you mean by what he was facing?"

Jake frowned.

"This year I thought something was going on with the cattle market in Abilene. The way the market in Abilene works is ranchers drive their cattle to Abilene and then men from the various buyers come and inspect them. What they're looking for is the condition of the cattle and how much each one probably weighs. Cattle sell at a slaughter house by weight, but there are so many at the stock pens in Abilene that the buyers can't weigh each one. They look at a group of cattle and estimate the average weight of each in the group.

"Based on his estimate, the buyer's man then quotes a price per animal. It's kind of a gamble, but the buyers' men are good at what they do. The rancher will agree to sell to the buyer who gives him the highest price. That's how it's worked every year until this one.

"The thing that bothered me this year was that prices were a penny a pound lower than last year. That didn't make any sense at all. The year before, buyers were out-bidding each other because the demand for beef has been going up ever since the war ended. I didn't expect the price to go up much, but it shouldn't have gone down. The other thing was, this year there was no bidding going on. Every buyer's man quoted the same price.

"I decided to find out what was going on. I know a man who works as the accountant in a slaughterhouse in Chicago because he was one of my lieutenants during the war and we've stayed in touch over the years since. I sent him a telegram and asked what they were paying for beef. He telegraphed me back saying that prices were up from the year before because the demand was up. For roasting beef, the highest grade, they were paying sixteen cents a pound, and ten cents a pound for stew beef.

"The price I got for my cattle this year was seven cents a pound. Cattle in poor condition were bringing five. What that means is after accounting for shipping costs, the buyers were making at least a fifty percent profit.

"That wasn't illegal, but it started me to thinking. Like I said, the buyers themselves don't quote the price they'll pay. The leave that up to the men who work for them and inspect each herd. For each one to quote the same price and for that price to be lower than the year before meant to me that somebody was controlling the price the market in Abilene was going to pay.

"I found out my suspicions were true. One of my men was having a drink at one of the saloons the night we got there. Two of the inspectors from different buyers were there and they were drunk and talking loud enough for my man to hear them. One said he'd been paid a penny a head by Horace to keep the price low. The other said that's what he was paid, but next year he was going to ask for more because Horace shouldn't make all the profit.