Make It Out Alive

"Well now isn't that just my luck," I chuckled. "Care to point me to one of them?"

"Them three sitting at that table over there. One of em will probably take you on."

"Thanks mister," I said, putting a dime on the table. "I'll take another beer, and get you one yourself."

"I can't turn that down," he grinned as he turned to refill my brew.

Fresh beer in hand I made my way over to the table with the three men the bartender identified as ranchers looking for hands.

"Excuse me gentlemen," I greeted as I arrived at the table. "I hear one, or all of you might be looking for hands?"

"That's gotta be the truest thing I've heard all day," laughed the larger man on my right. "Consider yourself much of a cowboy?"

"To be honest sir, it's been a while since I've done any cowpoking. My uncle had a ranch that I'd visit when I was growing up, but other than signing on for a handful of trail drives as a drover, and one as a chuck wagon cook a few years back, I don't have much experience with it at all," I said, ignoring that the only experience I had with cows was the handful of time we'd rustled a few head for one reason or another. "But I will say I'm a good worker and a fast learner."

"Well hell Richard, you need him more than we do. You take this guy and we'll keep looking," offered the tall slim guy on the left.

"How does thirty-five and found sound son?" Richard, the large man who spoke first asked.

"Sir, I'd have to say that sounds pretty good to me," I answered with a genuine smile. It did sound pretty good. I wasn't going to get rich off thirty-five dollars a month, but it would be more than enough to survive on, especially since being a cowboy came with lodging and food, hence the 'found' part of his offer.

"Well then I'd say you got yourself a job Mister..." he trailed off, realizing he'd never gotten my name.

"Phillips. Brad Phillips," I said, sticking out my hand to shake his.

"Well you've got yourself a job Mr. Phillips," he said as he grasped my hand. "You can either ride out to the ranch with me now, or meet me out there tomorrow morning."

"I just checked into the hotel, let me see if I can get the money for my room back and I'll ride out with you now."

"If they won't give it back I'll cover that cost. It's worth it for a new hand."

"I appreciate that sir."

**

~Three Rivers Ranch~

Richard Rivers, the owner of the Three Rivers Ranch led me through the gate, the name of the ranch spelled out in wrought iron letters suspended from a lumber arch above.

"Three Rivers?" I asked. "You and two brothers own the place or something like that?"

"No, but that's would have been clever," the large man chuckled. "It got its name not because of my name, but because the northern border of the spread is the fork between the Big and Little Mountain rivers. The third river on the place isn't really a river, but more of a creek. Bear Creek. Still, Three Rivers sounded better than Two Rivers, so I decided to take a little liberty with the name."

"Could have been Three Rivers for the Big Mountain and Little Mountain, with Richard Rivers being the third," I joked, eliciting a laugh from my new boss.

"I think we're gonna get on just fine Brad," he stated. "Head on over to the bunkhouse. Poke, the foreman, will get you settled in. I'll be by before too long to give you a tour of the spread. I needed to get out and check on things anyways."

"Sounds good to me. I don't have much to unpack anyways so I won't need long."

"Take all the time you need," he said as he turned away, but then he paused and looked back at me. "I'm not sure how good you are with that gun, but I'd keep it close just in case. I'm not trying to scare you off or anything, but we had a hand shot by rustlers last month. It appears to be an isolated incident. It's been years since we've had any cattle taken, and we haven't had any since, so everything should be fine, but I wanted to be up front about all that. I'd have mentioned it before riding all the way out here if that was a deal breaker for you, but it honestly slipped my mind."

"Not worried at all Mr. Rivers. I've traveled over some rough country, country teeming with outlaw scum who decided I had the riches of the world tucked in my mere saddle bags..." I sighed, trying to not give anything away. "I'm no gunslinger, but I know my way around watching out for myself."

"Then you shouldn't have any issue at all Brad," he said with a smile. "I'll be by the bunkhouse in a little while."

I made my way over to the long building that served as the quarters for the working men and hitched my horse at the rail. Throwing my saddle bags with my few belongings that I'd picked up at my last stop in Colorado over my shoulder, I made my way inside and saw one man sitting at a table sipping on a cup of coffee.

"Are you Poke?" I asked in greeting.

"That I am. Who might you be?" He questioned, standing up to greet me.

"Brad Phillips. Mr. Rivers just hired me in town."

"Fancy yourself much of a cowboy?" He asked, getting straight to the point.

"Honestly no. I've taken part in a few drives, mostly signing on last minute and getting stuck riding drag, but that's about as far as my experience goes. My uncle had a ranch when I was young so I've been around the critters, but I didn't do much work for him at all." I explained, watching the big man's reaction as I spoke. My uncle did in fact have a ranch, even if it was a small one. Well, he did, and I reckoned if he was still alive somewhere he might still have it, but I hadn't been there since I was a boy.

Poke was a big man. He had probably three or four inches on me and at least fifty pounds, his years of hard work on the ranch leaving him as a solid block of muscle. I didn't much like the way he was looking me over, like he was skeptical of me or something.

"Have I seen you before?" He asked. Shit. Poke didn't seem to be one for beating around the bush.

"Probably not," I reasoned. "Just blew in from Nebraska."

"Where before that?" He asked plainly.

"Who says I was anywhere before that?" I asked, giving him a grin in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"You look like someone who moves around a lot."

"Yea I guess you could say that," I laughed. "Iowa before Nebraska."

"Anywhere else?" He wondered. The hell was it with all these questions?

"Most places at one point or another," I allowed. "Parents got killed by a renegade when I was younger. Just been drifting around trying to make ends meet ever since."

God I hated playing the dead parents card, but he'd keep digging until he found a valid reason for my wondering. I told myself when I rode into town I'd do my absolute best to lie as little as possible. It wasn't so I could keep my story straight. In my previous line of work we always had a backstory to explain ourselves, and I always used the same one, so if I wanted to outright lie I already had the story, one I wouldn't forget. Here though, here I wanted to be as real as I could with these people. The longer I rode on my way here, the more resolved I became in my desire to actually go straight and make an honest life for myself.

"Sorry to hear that," he said, his face softening slightly. It appeared that the dead parents card must have worked with him, mostly at least. "Don't mean to pry. Your life and your past are your own, but I just gotta look out for the ranch. We don't cotton to trouble around here."

"I completely understand sir," I said reassuringly. "I don't much like trouble either. Won't cause none, don't want none, I work hard, and I'll ride for the brand, same as anyone else."

"Now that I like to hear," the big man said, breaking into a smile for the first time before sticking his hand out to me.

We shook, then he showed me to an open bunk, instructing me where to store my few things, then he showed me the mess hall, the outhouse, and a few other things I'd need to know the location of.

True to his word, a few minutes later Mr. Rivers came by with a saddled mount and led me through the field in between the Big House, which is what everyone called his house, and the barn out onto the open range that laid beyond.

He wouldn't have time to show me everything today, as the ranch was so expansive, but he did point to landmarks and explain what lay in the direction of each, things such as open range, water holes, locations the herd were currently in, a line cabin, and some roads.

On our ride I learned that the Three Rivers was one of the largest ranches in the county with thousands of head of cattle and thousands more acres of land, plus the open range, which was all public grazing land, that surrounded it.

When we got back to the stables to care for our horses Mr. Rivers wished me a good nights sleep and a good first day before he turned in to the Big House for the night. I got my horse unsaddled, brushed, and put up.

"What do you think Blondie?" I asked the mount. Never in a million years would I have ever given such a name to a horse, but for some reason it just felt right with her.

"Yea I think so too. We should do just fine here," I said in response to her nickering at nuzzling my shoulder at my question.

We'd become pretty good partners ever since I got her, well, stole her. It was like she didn't even remember a time before me, and she made it very clear that she was mine. Blondie was a good horse. She absolutely loved to run, and I knew she had my back no matter what.

**

The next two weeks went by without incident. I surprised myself and all the hands when I didn't wake up sore after the first couple of days. I guess my hard life did have its rewards.

They started me off with the low skill chores since I was the "low man." That just meant I was the newest hire and therefore I got all the grunt work. None of that bothered me at all, I was actually enjoying my new life. For the first time in a long time I felt at peace with the world around me.

The last few years had been hard. A botched job here, a killing there, always on the run. It wasn't an easy life, and it was starting to take its toll. The longer I was away from it all, the less I was missing it.

It was a Thursday evening and all the work was done. Ranch hands are a close knit group, and I was proud to say they were starting to accept me as time wore on. Currently we were sitting in the bunkhouse winding down by playing a game of poker for pebbles and stones, not actual money.

"You excited for the party tomorrow night Brad?" Luke, another cowboy asked.

"Party?" I questioned. Nobody had told me anything about a party.

"Oh shit yea, they planned it before you got here," Luke said with a grin. "River's daughter is coming back from school in New York tomorrow so they're throwing a huge welcome home party. Thought you would have noticed all the stuff they've been bringing in."

"Nah I didn't notice it. I've been up at the line cabin all week, you know that," I said.

"Yea, that's right," Luke laughed. "Anyways, it's gonna be a big throwdown. Barker's gonna butcher up a steer tonight and start it on a pit, since he's from Texas and all."

"Now that I'm looking forward too," I grinned, laying down a full house and taking in the pot of three pebbles and two stones.

"Brad, c'mere a minute," Poke called from the other side of the bunkhouse.

Not asking why, I got up and made my way over to the door, as he'd stepped through it after I started to move. When I stepped through the opening I saw Mr. And Mrs. Rivers standing beside a buckboard wagon. Mr. Rivers had his horse held by the reigns standing next to him as well.

"I need to you to ride with us Brad," Mr. Rivers stated as I made my way up to them.

"Sure thing sir, let me go saddle my horse," I agreed without hesitation.

"No need son," he chuckled. "I need you to drive the buckboard."

"I can certainly do that," I said. "Let me go get my hat and gun and I'll be ready.

"The chances of trouble on this trip are all but zero, but just in case grab a rifle too. We're going into Laramie to pick Clara up from the train station. I just got a telegram from town saying she was able to get in early and I don't want her staying in a hotel by herself if I can help it."

"I'll grab a bedroll too then sir," I said, knowing the ride to and from Laramie in a buckboard would be a lengthy trip.

"No need. We'll be staying in the hotel there tonight and making the drive back tomorrow. I'd have gone with just Laura and me, but since the last bit of the drive will be in the dark, I wanted a dependable man with me. It doesn't hurt that if I were to take a wild guess, I'd say you aren't too bad with a gun."

I never did anything to make anyone think that since I'd been there, but I guess after years and years of being an outlaw and a gunslinger I must have carried myself in a way that suggested I could shoot pretty well. If I did it was all unconsciously. I didn't worry about the assumption though, since Richard didn't say it in an accusing manner, just as more of an innocent observation.

One long ride later and we were pulling up in front of the Laramie Central Train Station, a rather large building, especially compared to all the buildings next to it. Mr. Rivers' daughter would have beaten us to town by barely an hour since she was on the late train, so we found her waiting in the depot lobby when we walked in.

She ran straight to her parents as soon as we walked in, rushing up to them before I even had a chance to identify anything about her in the slightest. Leaving them to their family reunion, I made my way to the seat she'd just vacated and picked up her two bags, making my way to the buckboard with a nod of my head to Richard.

Her back was to me, and I didn't get a look at her front as she flashed over to her parents, but I had to assume she was all women, judging solely off the shape of her backside profile. I really didn't mean to look. Mr. Rivers was beyond her so I had to look past her to acknowledge him, and, well, I am a man after all, so I did steal a quick glance at her form as I made my way back outside.

After stowing her bags in the bed of the wagon I turned myself to face the door and leaned against a wheel to await their exit from the station. It was full dark out. It had been for almost two hours, but it was still rather early and the streets, illuminated by the brand new electric lights they just put in, were still pretty busy with foot and horse traffic.

"Brad!" Richard called as they exited, "this is my favorite daughter, Clara. Clara, this is Brad, one of our new hands."

She was stunning. I'd seen women from all over the country, from soiled doves all the way up to wealthy men's trophy wives back east and down south. Clara put them all to shame. Thomas Edison's fancy new electric lights couldn't even shine as bright as she did standing there on the depot platform.

She had long dirty blonde hair that was half up, half down, a very shapely and appealing figure hidden under a rather stylish but not over the top dress. The part that stood out were her eyes, glowing in the yellow glow of the street lights. They were like looking into a whole new world, one where the only thing there was true beauty, and she was still fifteen feet from me. I worried I'd lose my composure if I saw them from any closer.

"Miss," I greeted, snapping myself out of my momentary trance and clawing the hat off my head.

"Mr. Brad," she gleamed, flashing me a dazzling smile that rivaled even her entrancing eyes.

"Just Brad," I chuckled. "Mister is a little too formal."

"Alright Just Brad," she joked. "Shall you be joining us for dinner at the Inter-Ocean restaurant?"

"Oh, I, um," I stammered, not sure how to answer as I wasn't invited prior, and I also wasn't sure how Mr. Rivers would feel about me being around his daughter in what could be considered an intimate setting.

"Oh course he will!" Assured Richard. "Won't you Brad?"

"Well yes of course," I agreed. "So long as I'm not an imposition."

"No none at all," Clara stated. "None at all."

I drove the buckboard with Clara and Mrs. Rivers sitting on the seat beside me. It was a tight fit, but they did fit. I was wondering how the long ride back to the ranch was going to go with the seating arrangements.

"I should have just had that damn surrey fixed," Richard said, almost reading my mind. "That or we should have just taken the stage. I'm sorry Clara. We just got so excited to see you I guess I didn't think things through."

"It's ok Papa," Clara assured. "There's plenty of room."

Yea, plenty of room if you wanted me pressed up against her the entire ride home. I wasn't entirely sure if I could stand that.

"I could make Brad ride in the back," Richard joked.

"I really wouldn't mind that at all if one of you ladies would be ok driving," I offered.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Rivers said. "There's plenty of room."

**

There wasn't any time left for debate as we had pulled up to the restaurant. Mr. Rivers quickly dismounted, with a lot of grace for a man his size, and helped his wife down while I stepped off the wagon and offered my hand to Clara. Before I had a chance to register what was going on, she slipped her arm through mine and had me escort her into the establishment.

It was most certainly one of the finer dining houses of the city, and everyone inside looked the part. The tables were clean, the floor was tiled and not covered with expectorated tobacco juice, and the place didn't reek of smoke and stale liquor. Without a doubt, it was the nicest place I'd ever been in, aside from a hotel I cased for a job down in New Orleans.

As we stepped through the door I instantly took a step directly to the right to get myself out of the opening, giving me a chance to take in the room as well as provide my back with some cover, a habit I'd picked up and perfected from my life of crime. Almost as soon as I made the motion I realized how unnecessary and strange it must have looked to those who weren't accustomed to it.

If anyone noticed it, nobody said anything or gave any looks, not even Clara who just stepped to the right with me without missing a beat. The move actually worked out as Clara and I had entered before Mr and Mrs. Rivers, so stepping to the side did allow them entry to the building.

A well dressed waiter approached us then, speaking with Richard for a moment before escorting us to a table off to the side. Without having to think about it I pulled out a chair for Clara. I was a bad man, but I still had manners. Subconsciously I chose a chair for her that put her back angled to the door, allowing me to sit to her left which left my back to the wall and my front to the entryway. This move I figured wouldn't be looked at as weird even if people knew what I did.

The conversation was vastly dominated by the family, discussing both Clara's time in school as well as the happenings around the ranch and in Copper Creek. Any time I felt the conversation drifting towards me in any way I did my best to deflect it back to them. I figured the less they knew the better. Luckily, for the time period, it wasn't uncommon for a cowboy to have a mystery of a past. Many hands on ranches all over didn't reveal much about their past, or even use their real name, and that fact was widely accepted. For the most part, as long as you didn't cause any trouble nobody seemed to mind.

The conversation, even though I was seldom a part of it, flowed very nicely and led to a rather pleasant evening. At least it was pleasant until a slightly inebriated gentleman approached us as we left and glared at first Clara, then me.

"What's a fine sophisticated gal like you doing with a lowdown cowpoke like him?" The man asked, not really slurring his words but speaking in a way we all knew he'd had a few drinks.