Split Trails Ranch

"Hear you're lookin' for hands?"

"Yeah, but we ain't doing so good."

"Well then, maybe we can help each other out." I invited him to breakfast, and as he ate, he told us what he had.

"I got three boys in the pokey. Tougher'n nails, even the small one. He don't drink, but he's mean as a snake and good with a knife. They come in with a drive, had words with the boss over wages, and he left them here. Two of the locals tried to roll them, and he sliced them up pretty good. Then the other two sobered up, and beat the hell out of them. They're all pretty young, and kind of green, but they seem solid. I think they're related, but they don't talk much, at least to me."

"All that sounds kind of straight up. Why are they even in jail?"

"The boys that got their asses kicked tried to ambush them after they healed up. The little one run them home, swinging a Bowie knife that was almost as big as he was. Then set the shack on fire, standing outside with a shotgun and daring them to come out. The other two showed up and started watching the back. Ever time one of the men in the house showed their face, they shot at them, making sure they missed. They was screaming and beggin' by the time we got there, and we damn near had to shoot the little one to get him to back off. The boys came running out, their clothes on fire and screamin' like banshees."

I grinned. These were my kind of people. "What exactly, are they charged with?"

"Arson. The gent that owned the shack tried to jack them up, they didn't have it, so I had to put them in jail. If you was to take them off my hands, there would be a few in this town who'd sleep better at night. One thing though, you have to pay the guy who owned the shack for his loss. I'll make sure it's fair, because it really was a shack. Maybe at most a hundred, maybe less. You don't take them before the judge comes through next week, and they're all off to prison for at least two years. I don't think the young one would do well there, he'd end up killin' somebody before the week was out, and his kin would jump in to help him against the dead man's friends, and they'd all end up dead. I'd hate to see that, mister."

"Finish your breakfast, Marshall, and then we'll mosey over to the jail."

Three sullen faces looked up at us when we walked in. All of them seemed pretty young, especially the little one. I skipped the formalities. "You boys know how to handle cows?"

For the first time, I saw a little interest. The one I figured was oldest spoke up. "All we ever done our whole lives was ranch and farm. So yeah, we know how to handle cows, dig postholes, plant crops, chop firewood, and Tiny here is a damn good cook." The little one blushed, which seemed odd on a man.

"Are you a man of your word?"

The question surprised them. The middle one spoke. "A Higgins never goes back on his word. You can take that to the bank."

"I ain't interested in banks, I'm interested in hands. I just acquired a ranch, and I'm in need of a few good people. Can I trust you?"

"You get us out of here, Mister, and we're yours for life."

"Good enough. I'm going to pay your debts to get you out, and I'll take half your wages until we're square. Deal?"

Relief showed on their faces, and the little one looked a little misty-eyed. I paid their fines and damages, and they walked out with us. Me and Brad shook hands with every one, even the little one. I looked into a pair of green eyes, and knew. I glanced at Brad and he grinned, so I knew he'd figured it out too.

They gathered their packs, mostly what little spare clothes they had and some wore out percussion rifles. The oldest had an ancient looking Dragoon that looked like it would fly to pieces if it was ever fired, so I knew I'd need to kit them up with some decent weapons. I took them straight to the gunsmith, them complaining the whole time.

"This ain't charity. There might come a time I need you to back me up, and I need to know you got decent weapons. I'll add it to what you owe me." The oldest, Bud, picked a decent looking Peacemaker. Sonny, the middle one, took a shine to an old Starr the gunsmith had reworked for .38 cartridges. Tiny looked with longing at a Colt Lightning in .32-20 caliber. It was only a five shot, but it was slim and looked like it would fit nicely in her little hand. Yep, it didn't take us long to figure out she was a girl. I suspect the Marshall knew, another reason why he wanted them off his hands.

"You like this one, Tiny?" She looked at Brad and shook her head shyly.

I grinned at her. "Don't make me regret this, the Marshall said you was pretty bad to fly off the handle. There is one condition, sweetie, you tell us your real name."

Her eyes flew wide and the boys looked shocked. I put the pistol back after a couple of minutes. "Well, then, if you can't tell me the truth, I can't trust you with a weapon. Total me up, Mr. Herman."

Her hand shot out, grabbing mine. "It's Jessica! Jessica Alise Higgns."

"Well then Miss Higgins, it's a pleasure to meet you. If I get this for you, you need to give me your bond you'll be responsible with it. Word is you got a pretty hot temper."

She drew up to her full height of five feet, maybe, looked me in the eye, and promised. I turned to Mr. Herman. "Well sir, I'll guess we'll be adding this as well. You wouldn't happen to have a child's size holster for it, would you?"

He grinned. "As a matter of fact..." He pulled a really nice black handtooled cartridge belt and holster, studded with little silver stars. "This might do. Had a midget through here about six months ago, a gambler called Big Mike. Some kind of joke I guess. Anyway, he had me make this for him, then discovered he weren't near the cardsharp he thought he was. Got caught holding a pair of aces, that were the same suits another gambler had. He had nerve, but nerve and a two shot derringer don't get you out of a shooting scrape. He already paid for it, and I was gonna take it apart for the silver and leather. Give me the cost of that, and it's yours. I'll even put her initials on the holster."

Little Jessica was begging with her eyes, so I agreed, while Brad just grinned. I'm sure he remembered how our baby sister used to twist me up just by batting her eyes. She almost skipped out of the gun shop, she was so happy. That grin turned upside down when I took her to a dress shop. The owner eyed me warily, wondering what I wanted.

"I got a job for you. I want you to give this little hellcat a proper female wardrobe befitting a young lady of quality, including a few split skirts suitable for riding." She almost threw a hissy, but I didn't back down. She mouthed off one time too many, and I snatched her up, holding her off the ground at eye level. She suddenly got very quiet.

"You listen here, little missy! There's a few things you need to know. I don't take a lot of backtalk. You sass me and I'll tan your hide in front of everyone. You're going to dress, act, and comport yourself as a proper young lady, if I have to beat you into it. You understand me, girl? This ain't up for discussion."

It was just her, me, and the milliner in the shop. I wouldn't embarrass her in public, but she didn't know that. Tears were starting to fall. "Now, look me in the eye, and say 'Thank you Zeke Walters. I appreciate your gift.' And it is a gift, you don't owe me diddly for the things you'll get. It wouldn't kill me to know you were just a little happy about it. Can I depend on you?"

I put her down and she wiped away the tears, nodding her head. "You can, Zeke Walters. And thank you. I been beat pretty hard, but nobody has ever spanked me before, and I don't want to find out what it feels like now. I'll be a good girl." She said something under her breath and thought I didn't catch it, but I heard just fine. "A very expensive good girl."

The milliner was grinning, and suddenly I knew I was going to have a lot of restless times over this girl. It kind of made me feel good. It took three hours, but that included a bath and some pampering. The Milliner called in her friends, for shoes, hats, underthings probably, every single item a young lady would need.

We had thought about having a beer, then decided against it. We were in a town of strangers, and none of us were what you'd consider popular. Instead we poked around town for a little bit, found a Mexican restaurant that had some amazing smells coming out of it, and decided that was where we'd eat supper. The we piled up on the boardwalk in front of the saloon, waiting.

Brad had dozed for about an hour, as well as the Higgins boys. Seemed they hadn't slept well in jail. When they roused, me and Bill settled back, pulling our hats over our eyes. Bill was sawing logs, and I was dozing in and out, when I heard Brad's chair thump on the boards, as well as exclamations from the boys. I woke instantly, coming to my feet, looking for trouble.

And I found it. Lots and lots of trouble. She had on a long gray skirt, the tips of her new black boots sticking out, with a frilly white shirt and a matching gray jacket. She was carrying a little straw hat, her shining blond hair done up in an elaborate braid and held in place by pink ribbons. She was followed by two boys roughly her age, both of them stumbling over their tongues as they followed her. They held bags, three hat boxes, two shoe boxes, and a small trunk. She stopped in front of us, and twirled. Then she looked me right in the eyes.

"How do I look?

"You look like I need to buy a couple more shotguns. You look lovely, Jessica, just perfect."

She blushed and Brad laughed. He suddenly smiled, truning on the charm that had separated many a young thing from her knickers. "It does indeed, Jessica. I'm glad I wasn't appointed Dad, at least I can sleep with both eyes shut. How old are you, baby?"

She blushed. "I'm not sure. Thirteen, I think. I'm not even sure when my birthday is." She keyed into the 'daddy' statement, and it opened up a whole new world of possibilities to her.

Seems her folks had belonged to some obscure religion that didn't believe in holidays or birthdays. She looked so sad I had to cheer her up. "Well then, since you've already got a bunch of presents, I declare today your birthday. Happy birthday, baby."

I didn't expect the reaction I got to that statement. She jumped onto my lap, hugging me like I was going to disappear, mumbling "thak you, thank you," over and over. I cuddled her, and felt for the first time the love a parent must have for his child. I was a little misty-eyed myself by the time she had settled down. I stood, setting her down gently.

"Come on baby, we need to get you and your brothers rooms."

I'd given the boys enough money for a couple of new pair of jeans and shirts, and a decent pair of longjohns. They wanted to fight it, but I shut them down. "You work for me now, and I want to present a certain image. So you'll always be clean and well dressed when we go to town or in public, do you understand?" They stopped arguing and stood straighter.

We'd extended our stay at the hotel due to the circumstances, and things were slow, so rooms were easy, until Jessica spoke up. "Do you have a room next to my Daddy?" Brad just grinned bigger and I jerked a little. Daddy? Well, why not?

The clerk, confused, nodded. First he comes into town and kills the meanest man in the territory over a whore that wasn't that good, then he shows up with a daughter out of nowhere. Who is this guy?

"Does it have a connecting door?" He nodded again. "Then I'll have that room, please." The way she said please meant don't you dare say no, so soon my new daughter was walking through our adjoining door, smiling. Brad was right behind her, he had the room on the other side, and it connected as well. She was just about as safe as one could be, not even considering her brothers were the next room over on one side, and Bill was the same on the other.

Sleeping arrangements covered, we walked down to the Mexican restaurant, after making sure it was family friendly. Jessica had changed hats, wearing a little Stetson that looked like a mineature of mine. She had locked down on my left hand, and looked like she had no intention of letting go.

The woman who walked us to our table had to be the owner, the way everyone deferred to her. I wished her a good evening in Spanish, asking what was good tonight. She seemed surprised, even more so when Brad asked if she had chile relleno. It was his favorite meal. We were from Texas, close to the border. What people forgot about Texas was that it was Mexico a lot longer than it was Texas, and most everybody in our area spoke Spanish almost as well as English. Brad actually preferred Spanish, when he had a choice.

Pleased to be able to converse with someone who spoke her native tongue, she chatted happily, promising us our favorite dish. I asked Jessica what she wanted, and she blushed. "I ain't never et...I mean, I've never had any food like this, Daddy. Order for me please."

I ordered her a chicken and rice dish, asking the owner to make it mild. Her brothers opted for the same thing, and Bill surprised us all by asking for tamales, the spicier the better. The food came pretty fast, considering, and Jessica loved her dish, until she tasted mine. "Ooh! I want his next time, please Daddy?"

I tried not to laugh when Bill got the brothers to taste a tamale, gasping and sucking down the dark Mexican beer, trying to cool their tongues. Conchita was removing dishes, and I saw the sly grin. "It's my daughter's birthday today, Conchita. Thirteen. She's quite a beauty, isn't she?"

"She is indeed. You must be very proud."

"I am. Very. It's like every day is the first day with her."

"We must celebrate! I have just the thing!"

She was back in few minutes, holding a piece of tres leches cake with a small candle in it. She was followed by a slight young man with a guitar, dressed in a nice suit, holding a guitar. He sang just for her, looking into her eyes the whole time. A traditional Mexican love song, fraught with emotion. She couldn't understand it, but she understood the meaning. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as the last chord lingered. Most of the patrons applauded, many wishing her a happy birthday in two languages. She stood, shyly, and executed a perfect curtsey, saying thank you in both languages.

She'd been running on adrenaline for almost twelve hours and I was pretty sure the events of the day was overwhelming her. She'd gone from a jail cell where it looked like she was bound to prison to a pampered daughter in twelve hours. Jessica was flagging to the point I was seriously thinking about carrying her, bending over to take her, when the shot rang out and a post splintered right where my head had been seconds before. I shoved Jessica to the ground, coming up with a Remington. It was a useless gesture, because the brothers, Bill, and Brad were all shooting in the same area, the spot where the shot came from. There was a highpitched wail, and the ex-foreman tumbled out from behind a water barrel. There were nine holes in the man, seven of them capable of being fatal. We were walking forward cautiously when a shot rang out and another man tumbled off a balcony, the shotgun clattering to the sidewalk. We turned, to see the slight Mexican who had serenaded Jessica during dinner. He touched his hand to his sombrero, as he slid the silver mounted, ivory handled revolver back into his holster, and disappeared into the darkness.

The marshall came around, investigating. It was another plain case of self defense, but you could tell he was getting a little tired of it. "Boys, you seem like decent folk, but something about you is bad for the air of this town. It's suddenly got too much lead in it. I hope ya'll are leaving sometime soon. I think the only one in this town who will miss you is the undertaker."

"We'll be leavin' tomorrow, just as soon as we do our banking."

That seemed to please him. I had to sit beside Jessica and hold her hand until she stopped shaking and went to sleep. I looked at her honey blond curls spilling across the pillow and smiled. This girl was mine!

We were up with the dawn, eating breakfast at Conchita's. I asked about the man from last night when I caught her alone. "My nephew," she said, sighing. "He got into a little trouble at home. Nothing he provoked, but the man he killed has a vengeful family. My sister sent him up here until things cool down. I don't think he will be staying much longer, he is used to working outside, from a saddle. He has a way with horses, senor! I have never seen the like."

He sounded like a man I could use, and I told her so. Her smile got bigger, and she promised to talk to him.

I left them at the restaurant. Conchita was trying to teach Jessica a few phrases in Spanish, while the brothers and Bill dawdled over coffee. Brad went with me, and we were standing at the bank when the doors opened. The banker, while not happy to see us, didn't openly fight us. He showed me the amount in the account, and it seemed way low. I was going to wire Wells Fargo, and transfer two thousand into to it. This did wonders for the manager's disposition.

"Why don't you just use the other account?"

"What other account?"

"Mr. Benson has a side account. I think it's connected to the ranch, he would transfer funds from it into the general account from time to time."

He showed us the receipts. Fourteen thousand! In this day and time,that was a small fortune. Something was not right. I closed it out, transferring it all to the ranch. I did keep five hundred because I'd run through a good bit of my stake and half of it belonged to my brother. I gave him 250 over his objections, so I'd have a clear conscience spending the rest.

We talked about the attempt on my life from the night before. "Something don't add up here, brother. The foreman was pissed, but you paid him off and he seemed satisfied. Suddenly he's hiding in the dark instead of calling you out? He never struck me as a coward. Then there's the galoot with the shotgun none of us had ever seen before. What was his stake in this? Just guessing here, Zeke, but I'd say someone wants one or both of us dead."

The same thing had been running through my head, and we agreed to keep a good eye out, and watch those around us. We picked up the boys and Jessica, thanked Conchita for her hospitality and the fine breakfast, and walked to the general store. Bill went to the livery and picked up the buckboard, along with the foreman's horse. it belonged to the ranch, after all. It occurred to me I needed to get the brothers something to ride. Jessica was going to ride beside Bill in the wagon. We'd do it after the supplies were loaded. I thought the order was light, so I added a few things, including a bag of dried apples and a case of canned peaches. I always loved pies. Jessica brought it up, and I bought a pound of cinnamom.

"Got any other ideas on what we need?"

She hesitated, and I told her to speak. "You're going to a ranch with four females who have good reason to hate you. You killed a husband and a brother and placed their lifestyle in danger. You own the majority share, you could take the house and kick them out and they wouldn't be anything legally they could do about it. I wouldn't expect kisses and hugs when you roll up to the front door. What you need is a peace offering."

"Like what?"

Jessica amazed me, going from broke and struggling one day to throwing money around like it grew on trees the next. Well, it weren't really her money, but still. She piled bolts of cloth, ribbons, combs and brushes, as many ladie's magazines as she could find, several bags of candies, and at the last minute added an assortment of perfumes, until the counter was in danger of losing half of it. She looked at a few hats, but decided that was too personal a choice and left it be.