Split Trails Ranch

It hit me while we were loading the buckboard that I only needed one horse, so we walked towards the livery stable. The young Mexican just seemed to appear out of nowhere, dropping into step with us. "Do not go there, Senor. His horses are no good. Come, I know where to go." He said it in Spanish, and I never let on, walking right by the livery stable.

I decided to trust his judgement, and we rode a few miles out of town, stopping at a little ranch. It was owned by a Mexican family, and these people really, really knew horseflesh. We looked over the stock, conversing with the man and his son int their native tongue, while Jessica visited with the wife and daugthers. Bud was really taken by a dun mare, and there was a black stallion I really liked. Brad was looking at a bucksin gelding, running his hands over it's body while talking to it in Spanish. Bill and Sonny were also looking, so I bought a chestnut mare with white stockings, and another buckskin mare. Jessica was on the porch pouting because the horses were all too big for her (in my opinion, not hers) and said so. The daughters laughed and tugged her up, going around behind the barn. I got to looking for her after we had made our deals, when she walked back around leading the prettiest paint mare I had ever seen. It was also the smallest, maybe going twelve and a half hands. It was the result of a small mustang with obvious Arabian traits mounting a mare pony. I took one look in her eyes and hoped the rancher wouldn't gouge me too badly. He laughed and gave me a really good price, saying he hadn't found anyone who needed a horse that small. Jessica was crying, hugging the horse, then me, back and forth.

Carlos Diego Santos had a gray gelding with a white tail and mane. That horse was cleaner than I was. Carlos was to wrangle the extra horses, including our old ones, good solid mounts, but not in the league with what we had just purchased. We got ready to roll out, and I couldn't find that wayward child anywhere. I was about to get aggravated when she came riding up. Seems besides horses, the rancher made tack. She was sitting in a black saddle that looked custom made for her, grinning to beat the band.

I remarked as she rode beside me how easy it seemed to find things that fitted her, and she grinned. "It's fate. You were meant to find me, so everything just fell into place."

She was a little living doll, her hair in a loose braid under the Stetson, wearing a black divided dress, a gray shirt, and a black vest. I had no idea where the vest came from, but she was a fetching figure. You had to look close to see the little Lightning snugged to her waist in a cross draw. Her horse had a gait that made her look like she was prancing down the road.

We had paid one more visit to the gunsmith, for long guns. Sonny got an old Henry that had been reconditioned, and Bud went with a Yellowboy. He didn't have anything small enough for Jessica to carry, but I made her happy by ordering a Lightning pump rifle in the same caliber as her pistol, 32-20, to be picked up the next time we made a supply run. He held me back as the others took their weapons out.

"Thought you might like to look at this. It might come in handy for the little miss down the road." It was a pair of Henri Deringer short guns, double barrel, in .25 caliber. I bought them and one box of shells. I fugured she wouldn't need to target practice, if she had to use one, they would be right on top of her anyway. She carried one in a small pocket in her riding skirts. I carried the other in a vest pocket.

We were finally on the road. It would take ten days to get to the ranch at the speed of a loaded buckboard. I wondered as we idled along what kind of reception we'd get.

SPLIT TAILS RANCH Part 3

We idled down the trail, saving our horses and getting a feel for the land. This part of New Mexico was high country, with surprisingly large mountains. We were down a bit lower, so it was mostly rolling hills covered with timber and grasslands between.

It was late spring, so it was comfortable during the day, and a little brisk at night. Jessica followed me around like a little shadow, and once when her constant questions got on my nerves I touched the spurs to my black, and he took off like he forgot he was supposed to be somewhere else an hour ago. I heard whooping, and looked down, surprised to see her beside me. That little hoss could sprint. She stayed with me for half a mile before falling back, and by then my aggravation had worn off, so I stopped while she caught up. Her eyes were dancing with excitement.

"Did you see? Did you see? My little pony can RUN! Good girl, Sweetie."

She'd named her Sweetie because she liked hearing me call her that. The little mare had gone back to her prance, not even breathing heavy. It occurred to me we could win a bit of money on Fourth of July races. At least for the first time, especially if we egged it on, asking if they were afraid to race a little girl and her pony.

"What am I gonna do when we get to the ranch?"

I grinned. That girl was so anxious to be a good daughter But really wasn't sure what I expected. "I don't know Sweetie. Maybe I'll just keep you around because you're so cute."

Her smile was huge, but she stayed on subject. "You have to let me do something. I can't abide being idle for long."

I had noticed that. She was the cook when we made camp, selecting the menu as we rode, then jumping on it as soon as we stopped. Not only could she cook, she came up with things that made your mouth water. We all praised her and she glowed. "I was camp cook on the drive. I found the trick was a good supply of spices and to be creative. There was a lot of things about that drive to complain about, but food wasn't one of them."

I'd gotten the story out of Bud. They were trying to get a stake, and worked the brush where they were finding Mavericks, unbranded cattle no one had a claim to. It took them a year of backbreaking work, but they had two hundred cows to show for their efforts. Knowing they couldn't drive them alone, they hooked up with trail boss whos struck a deal. They helped with the drive without pay, and he'd take their cattle along with his. They worked like dogs all summer, but go the herd to the railhead, only losing twenty of their cattle and fifty over all. The man sold them, then refused to give them the money. They braced him, but he had a crew of pretty salty boys, and they never had a chance. He dumped them in the next small town they came to, stealing everything they had but the clothes on their back. Bud and Sonny were anxious to pay me back so they could go searching for the man.

"Leave it be for a while. A snake like that will leave plenty of track, and you need to hit him when he least expects it, cut him out of the herd, and get your justice. What do you have in mind?"

Sonny obviously had been thinking about it. "First and foremost, we want our money. Then we're gonna kill him. I'd prefer to hang him for a rustler, but I'll settle for putting a bullet in his gut."

They had met him in Arizona, so they had a starting point. I thought maybe I'd drop a line to my older brother, who had a ranch above Prescott, see if he'd ever heard of him. It never hurt to know as much as you can about an enemy.

On the ninth day Bill rode up beside me. Me or Brad usually rode point, Carlos had the horses so well trained they just trailed along beside us, and he'd usually go off a couple times a day, looking for high country to keep watch. We never saw another soul until just after Bill came up beside me. Five riders were coming up the road, riding side by side, spread out. A trouble formation. We pulled up and waited. They stopped about twenty feet away, saying nothing. Bill grinned suddenly.

"Howdy, boys. A bit off the range, ain't ye?" Bill parent's had been Quakers, and he'd picked up the speech pattern but not the religion. There were a lot of, 'ye's, thee's, and thou's,' scattered throughout his conversations. It took a little getting used to.

"Who ya ridin' with Bill? Where's Buck and Johnson?" Johnson had been the foreman.

I think it gave him a good bit of satisfaction to tell them. "Buck's probably in Hell by now, and Johnson should be close behind him. Buck finally ran into a man he couldn't buffalo or outshoot. You should have seen it, he almost begged the man to shoot him! He gave Buck every chance, even told him he wouldn't fight him without a wager to make it worth the effort. You're looking at Mr. Zeke Walters, owner of the Split Trails Ranch! if you don't believe it, he's got papers, notartized by a lawyer, the local sheriff, and a U.S. Marshall. How you like them apples?"

There was bedlam for a few minutes, then they got quiet. "Where does that leave us?"

"If you're good workers, it leaves you with your jobs. If you're slackers or troublemakers, it leaves you ridin' the grubline until you find someone foolish enough to hire you."

I said it quietly, but they got the point. "I don't know, mister. Buck waren't much of a boss, but he paid regular.I think maybe I'll draw my wages and mosey on."

I looked at the man and shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you're moseying on, though, I suggest you go back to the ranch so I can pay you, and you can get off that horse. It's got the ranch brand on it, so I figure I own it."

You could tell by the look in his eyes he hadn't thought about that. "Now look here, mister! I..."

Apparently Bill didn't like the man much, bulling into his horse, making it prance. "You'll shut the hell up, that's what you'll do! When we get back to the ranch, you can straddle that crowbait you rode in on. It's still in the pasture, eatin' everything in sight. You wouldn't want the new boss thinkin' you were trying to steal his hoss, now would you? If he didn't plug ya, he'd hang you from the highest tree he could find, and leave you danglin' until you rotted and fell to the ground in pieces for the coyotes and skunks!"

He was backing the horse up, hands held high. "Calm down, Bill. I'm ridin' back with you. I might draw my pay and hang around until Buck's friends show up. That would be a conversation worth listenin' to."

"Those friends need to know if Buck ain't around anymore, they got no one to visit. I'm segundo now, and I aim to prove my worth. And we're movin' them critters to better pasture."

Onr of the other men had been quiet until then, just listening. "You know that ain't a good idee, Billy."

"I think it's an excellent idea, one that's been a long time comin'"

I jumped in then, marking my territory. "Here's the deal boys. It'ss my land now, to do with as I please. I don't intend to let cattle starve and land ruin when all I got to do is move them a little ways, on MY spread. Why don't you go tell Buck's friends to come see me if they don't approve. I know it would be damned interesting to hear their reasons why."

I stopped to let that sink in. "Know what? I've been thinkin', and my brother can tell you that never comes to a good end. I'm thinking you're drawing wages for a spread you ain't even workin'. Where were you going? Who told you to leave and go gallivantin' off? Somethin' stinks boys, and the wind's behind you. I think you should turn them nags around, and fetch your own mounts when we get back. I don't think I'll be needing you. Bill says we're a little top heavy, handswise."

I could see their minds working. There were five of them, and just Bill, Brad, Sonny, and me. They weren't even counting Jessica, who was sitting off to the side, bigeyed. Sonny didn't look to be totin', although his pistol was in his waistband and his rifle in the floor beneath his feet. They figured it was going to be five to three, and liked the odds. Bud was off with Carlos, up on the ridge somewhere. If I had to guess, I'd say two of them had rifles lined up on them.

I was afraid that Jessica might get hurt, so I thought I'd try to talk them down. "Boys, don't go gettin' no foolish ideas. There's a couple fellas on the ridge behind us, probably got their rifles already on you. My brother ain't totin' no rifle. What he's got in his hands is a Colt revolving shotgun, in ten gauge. You're bunched up kind close, if he gets two shots off, all of you might be down. Now pull your horns in, and turn around. There's always another day."

One grinned, and I knew. He wasn't going to back down. "No time like the present," he said, reaching. He jerked as a .32 caliber ball went through his shoulder. The rifles fired from the ridge kicking dirt up in front of their horses, making them buck like crazy. I noted all our mounts stood stockstill, even Jessica's little pony. I resolved to buy as many horses from Carlos's rancher friend as he could spare on the spot. By the time they got them under control they were facing the shotgun, Sonny's rifle, and three pistols, not counting the two rifles on the ridge. The fight went plumb out of them. The loudmouth was holding his shoulder and cussing a blue streak while my little hellcat grinned. He saw her pistol for the first time, and started off again.

"This ain't over! When Buck's friends come I'll be with them, and I'm claiming the little bitch. I'll make her beg before I kill her. AFTER I fuck her boney little ass."

"My little ass ain't boney, mister. The closest you'll ever get to it is if I let you kiss it. You should have never threatened my Daddy. More important, you should have never threatened his little girl."

For the first time they noticed my look. One actually paled. Brad backed up a little, knowing the look. Bad things were coming. "Get off your horse, now!"

"You wouldn't kill a wounded man, would you?" I laughed, causing the man speaking to worry.

"If he don't get off that hoss, I'm letting my brother cut loose with that scattergun. It won't just be him dying in the dust today. Now's a good time to make a choice."

They all backed up, leaving the loudmouth all by his lonesome. "I'm giving you a chance, asshole. She didn't hit your shootin' arm, so you got just as gooda odds as you had before my baby plugged you. This is advice for all of you. Never threaten a man's children. NOW CRAWL DOWN OFF THAT FUCKIN' HORSE!"

He stood, swaying, as I waited. He snatched at his weapon and looked foolish. He'd untied the leg strap to make it more comfortable to ride, and the holster was sliding everywhere. I waited until he got his hand on the butt and it was halfway out before I palmed my crossdraw Remington. I hit him dead center, then put one through his mouth before he could fall. He deserved it. All the others were holding their hands high. I grabbed his rope off the saddle and tied it around his feet, and looped the other end around the pommel of his saddle.

"What you doin' Mister?"

It was a pretty respectful bunch, after we had collected all their weapons and piled them in the wagon.

"Takin' his ass back to the ranch. I figure it might be a good lesson for the men still there. I don't take shit, work slackers, or waste time on loudmouths who threaten me or my family.

"You're gonna drag him?"

"All the way."

"That ain't respectful of the dead."

"I'm as respectful of him dead as I was when he was alive. I have none. The man thought he had good odds and was willin' to start a fight with strangers, telling me he was going to molest my child after I was dead, then kill her. If you object, maybe you'd like to join him."

One of the other men, one that had said nothing the whole time, grinned. "Looks like the Split Tails finally got what Buck fancied himself to be. A genuine hardass. I almost wish I could hang around to see how it turns out. Bullets are gonna fly and men are gonna die when this starts. I don't wanna be on either side. I got the feeling the life expectancy for men in the immediate area just got a lot shorter. You won't have to worry none about me, because as soon as I get my hoss and wages, I'm gone. I always wanted to see California."

It was later in the day, so we decided to stop where we were. I threw the rope over a tree a distance away from the campsite and pulled the dead man up off the ground, tying the rope off. He was dangling upside down six feet off the ground. Bet it would have been pretty miserable if he'd been alive to feel it. Now I didn't have to worry about the varmits knawin' on him during the night.

Jessica, after living as a man and being dirty for so long, was almost fanatical about her desire to be clean at all times, so she asked me to stand guard while she took a quick bath in the creek. I stood behind a natural screen of brush and listened to her splash and sing softly. She had a very good voice. She didn't take long, coming back clean and shining in a long flannel nightgown. She led me over to a rock, where she climbed until we were eye level. it was then that I saw her tears. "I was so scared, Daddy. I couldn't abide the thought of those men trying to kill you. I have to tell you, I meant to kill him but my hand shook a little. I'll do better next time."

I petted her until she calmed. "I'm going to try to make sure there isn't a next time. I don't want you roamin' our ranch looking for gunfights. You're gonna have too many girl things goin' on to worry about stuff like what happened to day. Say something bad happens to me. You'll still have Brad, your brothers, Bill, and Carlos. They'll take care of you. I promise."

I guess she hadn't had a lot promised to her in her life, because the tears came again. I was kinda new at this fatherhood stuff, so I just held her until she calmed down. I decided that the next time we were in town, I was gonna have the lawyer draw up a will, leaving her my part of the ranch and our gold mine, just in case. Brad could be her guardian, that way no one would try to cheat her. We walked back to camp, and she made a point of kissing everyone good night before she crawled into the little tent I had bought for her. We'd be sleeping outside. I was used to it, and it would be a lot handier than trying to crawl out of a tent if bullets started flying. Two of us took a turn as guards, just in case some of their friends came looking for them. All in all, it was a pretty quiet night.

It was half a day's ride to the ranch, and we left early the next morning. We'd loosely tied the former hands up, and we released them while Jessica made breakfast, a dish Conchita had taught her, and fried potatoes. One of the men even thanked her for a fine meal.

Carlos ate and promptly disappeared. Bud had pretty much partnered with him, so he took off right behind him. The closer we got to the ranch house, the less I liked. Bill was right. The cattle were underweight and the range looked to be in terrible shape. We rounded a curve, and saw the house in the distance. I was surprised at how large it was, a huge white two story with wings. Wonder how many rooms it had?

I stopped at the tree line and strung the loudmouth up. The trip had taken most of his clothes and good bit of his hide. His head was practically gone, the bullet through the mouth had messed it up to start with and being bounced around along a rocky road hadn't helped. "Let all the hands get a good look at him, Bill. Then bury him tomorrow afternoon. Nothin' fancy, just a nice deep hole. You don't even have to put a marker up unless you want to."

Bill smiled. "Oh,we got a little graveyard just for the likes of him. We've had a few Injuns and rustlers who found out the hard way not to mess with the S T. They're planted a ways back, away from the 'family' graveyard, reserved for the men who died defending the place. I'm sure the hands will find it educational to see what happens to anyone who crosses you."

As we rolled into the yard, I let my eyes wander over the ladies on the porch. Plainly dressed for the most part in working ranch attire, they were an admirable group. There were two blonds, a red head, a ravenhaired little girl that looked a little younger than Jess, and a stunning brunette. I'd heard enough descriptions to know she was the widow.