Free Chaparral Range War (9781101619049) by Dusty Richards Page B

eat?”
    â€œWe can cut off some ham over in the smokehouse. Fire up Cally’s range, fry the ham, make some biscuits, and open a Mason jar of something to have with it.
    â€œBy jingoes, you are a lot smarter than I am. I was going to boil some pintos till they’d mash and make me some real gas.”
    Guthrey laughed. “We may have to eat some of that later, but right now I have the plan.”
    â€œGod bless you for that, Cap’n.”
    â€œI’ll start a fire in the stove. Can you put that horse up for me and fetch some water? We’ll be eating before sundown if we hurry.”
    â€œI been batching so long by myself, I don’t have any imagination left. I’m going.” He gathered up the water pails and went to do his chores.
    Guthrey watched him go out the door in his cripple gait. How old was Noble? he wondered. Past seventy? Maybe he’d simply lived a tough life, but Guthrey knew from his experience with his own father: Don’t dare tell him he’s too old. He might whip your ass for even implying it.
    The fire in the stove soon caught ablaze and Noble was back. Water was on the stovetop to boil for coffee. The skillet was hot enough to make the ham sizzle while Guthrey’s pan of biscuits was in the oven and starting to really bake. He found a quart jar of canned green beans that he opened and poured into a saucepan on the edge of the main fire spot in the range top.
    By sundown they were enjoying their supper. Noble was rambling about being with the Texas Army and Sam Houston at San Jacinto when they captured Santa Anna.
    â€œDamn, I was tired of retreating. We kept asking Sam Houston when we were going to fight that bastard. He’d just shake his head and say, ‘When we can win.’ Damn, I thought that day would never come. But they got as tired as we did and finally decided we wouldn’t ever fight them. And then we struck them hard and we also captured Santa Anna. I wanted to kill him for the Alamo. Sam would not hear of it. Said we wasn’t that low. I guess we weren’t.”
    Guthrey nodded. “We better turn in and go find that calf with the wrong brand in the morning. Or would you like to stay here at the ranch and watch things?”
    â€œWhen my ass starts dragging, I’ll tell you.”
    â€œFair enough. You tell me when.”
    â€œI might as well get it off my chest. These kids wouldn’t have had a chance to survive here on their own with their pa gone. Why did you stop here?”
    â€œI saw that and guess it made me think I weren’t doing nothing else right now.”
    â€œWhat I figured. Couple of men I know saw you in town buck them three over that boy that afternoon.”
    Guthrey nodded. “I might have ridden on that day. But it was too obvious Dan was about to be legally murdered.”
    â€œFor a fact, he would have been. All right. Good night, then. Ring the triangle. I ain’t a real early riser these days.”
    â€œI’ll do that.”
    Outside Guthrey undid his bedroll from the saddle and went to find a place to roll it out. The coyotes were yapping and their owl accompaniment carried on the night wind, which was making the windmill creak so loud that Guthrey decided it needed grease. At last under the covers, he mentioned Dan in his silent prayers. Then he rolled over on his left side and went to sleep.
    * * *
    T HE COW’S HOARSE bawling woke him early the next morning. He checked the big dipper. It was close to dawn.
    He’d learned how to tell time by that constellation on his cattle drives to Kansas. It was how all cowboys knew when their shift on guard duty was over. He had gone on his first drive as the guy who helped the cook, learned the business and the ropes, then soon drove his own herds up the line. Flooding rivers to cross, tornados, storms, stampedes, the sorry element of bandits, and the logistics, a word he learned in the army. He worked really