I doubt if he could hit the side of that barn with a pitchfork.”
“Uhuh.”
“We got cows to brand; the old Mex will handle the iron if we can chase him up a few, and get a rope on them.”
“Today is Saturday ain’t it?”
“I reckon it is.”
“I thought we might take it easy, then get at it hard come Monday.”
“What’s the matter, you under the weather or sumthin? Saturday never stopped you before.”
“Yeah Buckeye, I’m a little bit wore out from the long ride here.”
“Well, we can take us a couple days off, I’ll tell Dover, I doubt he’ll complain what with his rumatiz and all.”
“Ok, I’m going to check my horses, then I may lay in the barn loft, and take a nap, you go on and see if you can wrangle some sense out of that paper work you was working on last night.”
“Ok Chaps, I’m glad you are home, even if we don’t have it that long.”
“Me too brother.”
“We are brothers ain’t we Chaps?”
“Yeah Buckeye, as good as any blood kin.” And he walked toward the barn. He crawled into the hay loft, and swung his legs out the hay loft door, and looked out over the range land at the cattle dotting the slopes, but his mind was far away from the cattle. He brought the vision of the saloon to his mind. He had been in the saloon many times, and had even had a whiskey once when the cowboys got drunk.
There was the door, then across the room, and to the left a little was the bar, then over to the left was the poker tables. He went back over his memory to the time when the cowboys would start to get liquored up about eight o’clock at night, the music would be playing. The long week of chasing stubborn cattle and they would be tired out a little.
That evening he saddled the gelding, and rode up to the house where Buckeye was sitting on the porch whittling a stick.
“I’m going to take a ride down to see how the water is fairing Buckeye.”
“Want I should go with you?”
“Nah, you stay here and keep an eye on things.”
“Ok. Dovers on the bed asleep.”
He turned the horse, and rode around the house toward the water hole that was just over a hill, but when he got over the hill, and out of sight of the house he turned the horse toward Shafter. He rode the long way around, and came out on the road toward town. He rode his horse around behind the old doctors office, and tied him to a bush, and then walked to the back door. He knew that the doctors living quarters was behind the office, and hoped he would find him home. He knocked gently on the door, and he doctor peeked through the curtains. He heard the old mans footsteps as he walked to open the door, “Chaps, what you doin’ here boy.”
“Can I come in doc?”
“Sure come on in and sit, is something wrong?”
“No, I was hoping to hang out with you till about eight o’clock if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Course I wouldn’t mind boy, I don’t get much company, less they are sick or horse kicked. You know Morton has been bragging it up that he’s the new owner of Mr. Driskels spread, and he’s hired two more seedy looking characters that look like guns for hire. I just came from the saloon, and they’re all in there whooping it up now.”
“Including Morton?”
“Including Morton.”
“I’m going in there at eight Doc.”
“Boy, you can’t go in there, they’ll kill you dead as sure as I’m sitting here. Where have you been anyhow, Dover thought maybe you were dead?”
“With the Mescaleros.”
“You mean the Apache?”
“Yeah, turns out they took me in a raid, and consider me as one of their own people.”
“Well if that don’t beat all. You should have staid with them son.”
The two sat, and talked of other times until the doctors clock struck eight o’clock, and Chaps got up to go, “Thanks for the conversation doc, I’ll be seeing you.”
“Boy don’t go down there.”
“Have to.”
The doctor fumbled in a draw, and pulled out a snub nosed revolver, “Well if I can’t talk you out of it, take this. You can bring it back.”
“Thanks doc, you have always been good to me.”
“I’ve patched you boys up since you was pup’s, and I think highly of you.”
“Same here doc.” And he stepped out into the night. He walked around the house and onto the street. A coyote yipped somewhere out at the edge of town. The air was quite. When he neared the saloon he could even hear the clack of poker chips behind the music coming from the saloon. He stepped up on the porch, and a board creaked under his foot.
He quietly opened the bat wing doors of the saloon, and stepped inside the door, A cowboy noticed him, and stared at the low tied down holster. Others saw the cowboy staring toward the door, and their gaze also turned that way.
The piano player who was against the wall to his left trailed off, and the room went quiet. The men at the poker tables turned to see what was going on. Morton stood at the bar with the two gunmen, and three other cowboys that belonged to the double J.
Morton turned, and stared, and that caught the attention of the two gunmen, “I thought you was dead kid.”
“Seems like a lot of people thought I was dead, are you going to draw that gun or sit, and whittle till your old and gray Morton? Oh, I recollect now, you hire other dirty skunks like you to back shoot men who are better than you.” His voice rang out in the saloon, and fell like broken glass.
Morton’s face went livid, “I’m going to kill you this time kid!” And his hand went for his gun. For a tiny fraction of a second it seemed to Chaps like time stopped as his eyes saw the hands on the butt of three pistols, and his own hand was a blur that seemed to make the gun appear in his hand by magic to the men in the room. He felt the bucking jar of the forty five caliber pistol three times, and then he fought to see through the smoke in the room.
It seemed like he was on slow time as he saw the two gunmens pistols fire off harmlessly into the ceiling, and then all three men dropped to the floor with a bullet through their heart.
He almost pulled the trigger on the three cowboys who were standing there with a shocked look on their face, “You going to draw or look?”
The three cowboys held their hands wide, and began to edge away from the three dead men on the floor, “I want no part of this kid.” One of the cowboys said.
“Me…me neither” Said the other, “Don’t shoot us kid, we are just paid to punch longhorns.”
“I suggest you find a better job than work for a snake, if I see you around here again I’ll kill you.”
“We didn’t have anything to do with Mr. Driskels killing.”
“Well you kept working for him knowing he done it didn’t you? Now get out!”
The three men edged around Chaps with their hands high, and then ran for their horse’s, and there was only the sound of their horse’s hoof’s as they galloped out of town.
The others in the place just kept staring, and some looked sheepishly at the floor, as Chaps turned, mounted the gelding, and rode toward the ranch.
The word spread along the Rio Grande, and on to the Mescalero camp in the Sonora. Talks A Lot spread his hands toward the fire, and spoke to the group, “He is our Apache son.”
The end
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