Badlanders (16 page)

E
dana Jessup threw herself into her education about ranching with a zeal that had all the hands talking. She'd told Neal Bonner she wanted to learn everything, and she wasn't kidding.

She was with him every day from sunup until long after the sun went down. They ate breakfast together, ate supper together. The only time they were apart was when Neal went to the bunkhouse to turn in.

Edana soaked up everything he had to teach her as if her life depended on it. She learned all there was to know about longhorns from birth to slaughterhouse. She saw firsthand how devoted longhorn mothers were to their calves, grinned in delight at their frisky antics, learned how when a calf was separated from its mother for whatever reason, it always returned to where it had suckled last and would stay there until its mother returned or it died of starvation.

Edana was impressed over and over by the resilience of the breed. Compared to longhorns, dairy cows were pampered dullards. The one word she would use to
describe longhorns was “durable.” Or, as Neal put it one day, “the toughest cattle on God's green earth.”

To some people they might look ridiculous with their big ears, narrow hips, and bony flanks, to say nothing of their extraordinarily long horns. But not to her. She developed a great affection for the breed.

Edana also had Neal teach her how to rope. How to set a loop over a steer's head as neatly as you please, and how to bring one down on the fly if she had to, although she could never quite master that skill to her satisfaction.

Edana learned all there was about branding, about the irons, and how when she drew a branding iron from the fire she should smack it against her forearm to shake off the coals that sometimes stuck. She learned she must be quick at it in order not to mar the hide and to avoid unduly hurting the calf.

It wasn't enough that she immersed herself in every aspect of the cattle. She needed to acquaint herself with every particular of ranch upkeep, as well. She spent time with the cook, with the blacksmith, with the old puncher who oversaw the stable, absorbing what they knew as a sponge absorbs water.

She did it all in what she laughingly called her “man's clothes.”

The second day after her father's funeral, Neal sent a cowboy into town with a list of things to buy for her.

“A dress might be fine for cookin' and sewin',” Neal had remarked, “but for workin' the range, you need duds that don't rip so easy.”

The general store didn't have much of a selection. The best the puncher could find were a couple of men's work shirts that fit Edana loosely, but would do, and a pair of men's pants she took up at the hems. She also wore a narrow-brimmed hat and a brown vest and boots.

One morning not quite two weeks into her education, as she liked to think of it, Edana finished dressing and stood in front of her full-length mirror. She couldn't
believe how different she was. Her face, bronzed by the sun, and her hair, which she wasn't so fussy about anymore, combined with her work clothes to lend her the look of a genuine rancher.

Edana was proud of how much she'd accomplished in so short a time. She'd been so immersed in her new role she hadn't given much thought to her sister. She did hear that Isolda had rented a house in Whiskey Flats and apparently intended to stay awhile.

One evening at supper she brought up the subject with Neal. She started by remarking, “I understand Stumpy went into town for supplies today.”

Neal glanced up from the piece of beef he'd just stabbed with his fork. “That he did,” he confirmed.

“Didn't he happen to hear anything new about Isolda?”

“She still stayin' at that house,” Neal said, and looked away so quickly it made her suspect he was hiding something.

“What else?”

“It might upset you.”

“Neal, please,” Edana said. “I'm a grown woman. Treat me as such.”

“Neal set down his fork and took a deep breath. “Your sister is livin' with that gambler.”

“When you say living,” Edana said, the implication jarring her, “do you mean as in husband and wife?”

Neal nodded. “Only they ain't married.”

“My goodness,” Edana said. It went against everything their parents had taught them, against everything she'd thought the two of them believed in.

“There's more,” Neal said. “The town is fixin' to hold its first election, and Adams is runnin' for mayor. They say he's a shoo-in.”

“And my sister will be the power behind the throne,” Edana suspected. “How marvelous for her.”

“Beggin' your pardon?”

“Nothing. Let's just say that when Isolda told me she wanted a new life for herself, I had no idea.” Edana
laughed without mirth. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“A hotel is goin' up. People are flockin' in. Oh. And there's talk that the town will have a new marshal just as soon as the new mayor is installed. You'll never guess who.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Scar Wratner.”

Edana arched her eyebrows. “Didn't we hear he shot three men dead not that long ago?”

“Some towns like to have a man-killer wearin' the badge. They reckon there's less trouble that way. It's why Abilene hired Wild Bill Hickok, and El Paso hired Stoudenmire.”

“I'm familiar with Mr. Hickok, but who is the other gentleman you mentioned?”

“Dallas Stoudenmire, ma'am. He—”

“Neal, what have I told you a hundred times about that ‘ma'am' business?”

“Sorry, Edana,” Neal said, abashed. “Stoudenmire is well known down to Texas. He cleaned up El Paso, and was involved in a shooting where four men were shot dead in under five seconds, or so folks say.”

“How is that possible?”

“Most shootin' affrays are over right quick if the shooters know what they're doin',” Neal said. “A lot of the time, it's just a couple of drunks wavin' their six-shooters and shootin' all over the place.”

“May I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“I know how fond you are of Jericho. I know you rate him as a highly competent . . . What is it? Shootist?”

“He's that and more.”

“How does he stand compared to Scar Wratner? Is Jericho better? Who would prevail if they went up against each other?”

“I haven't seen Scar shoot,” Neal said, “but given what folks say about him, I'd have to say it'd be a coin toss.”

“They're evenly matched, in other words?”

“Sorry to say.”

“Why sorry?”

“Because if there ever is trouble, and Scar is totin' a badge, it might give him an edge that would make the difference.”

“I'm not sure I understand,” Edana said.

“Jericho is a gun hand but he's not a bad man. If Scar comes at him in the name of the law, Jericho might hesitate and that would cost him.”

“How do you think of such things?” Edama marveled. “I wouldn't have in a million years.”

Neal gave her another of those smiles she liked. “I'm from Texas. We take our shootin' seriously down there.”

“I still don't understand, but very well. Perhaps you should have a talk with your friend and convince him to be on his best behavior whenever he goes into Whiskey Flats.”

Her suggestion seemed to surprise him. “He always is, and not just there, but everywhere.”

“Still, it wouldn't hurt to have him take extra care not to be provoked into going for his gun. Ask him on my account. Tell him I put you up to it so he won't take offense.”

“Jericho wouldn't anyhow,” Neal said, not sounding at all pleased.

Edana assumed that was the end of it and changed their discussion to ranch business.

The next morning she was in the saddle by sunrise and heading for a new section of range to inspect the cattle. Neal was at her side, and he'd brought Jericho, Billy, and Yeager along.

Edana loved their rides, loved the spectacular mix of terrain and vegetation. Or as the cowboys liked to say, “Ride a mile and the country will change.”

Ahead stretched a dry prairie dimpled with tumbleweeds. Edana couldn't get over how no two were alike. You would think all the plants would be the same, as in
rows of corn, say, or a field of wheat, but each tumbleweed was different. She'd also learned that while they were picturesque at rest and even more so when they went tumbling and bouncing in the wind, she had to be careful how she handled them should the need arise. They had more thorns than a rosebush.

Past the plain rose a bevy of rock formations. The endless variety of shapes and sizes fascinated her. Here there might be an arch, there a rock shaped like a bird's beak, nearby another that resembled a mushroom.

On this particular day she experienced something else for the very first time.

Bordering the rocks was a dust plain, Neal called it. Mile after mile of flat, dusty ground. Not so much as a single plant grew. There weren't any rocks or boulders. Instead of heading straight across, Neal swung wide to skirt it. Curious, Edana asked why.

“You feel that wind?”

Edana nodded. The wind had been strong all day, so much so that she'd tightened her hat strap under her chin.

“That's why we fight shy of the plain.”

“So what if the wind blows? A little dust never hurt anyone.”

Behind them, Billy laughed and said, “A little, ma'am? We're talkin' dust that can blister your skin and blast your eyes.”

Edana was skeptical, to say the least.

Then, when they were about halfway around, the wind intensified. Out on the plain, the dust stirred. Wisps and tendrils swirled into the air and spread to form a cloud that swiftly grew in size, the particles shimmering like so many tiny diamonds.

“Oh!” Edana exclaimed. “Isn't that pretty?”

“There's more to come,” Neal said.

Other wisps rose, some thicker than before, becoming, in effect, writhing columns that curved and swayed as if they were alive. Several swiftly swelled in size until they
reminded Edana of tornadoes. They rose and rose, not stopping until they were hundreds of feet high, half a dozen whirling all at once, a spectacle the likes of which she had never imagined she would behold.

“They're beautiful!”

“Not if you're caught in one,” Billy said. “The dust gets into your eyes and you can't hardly see, and your horse might spook and throw you.”

Neal nodded. “Don't ever get close to a dust devil.”

“Is that what you call them?”

“Big or small,” Neal said.

“Don't forget the invisible ones,” Billy said.

Thinking he was poking fun at her, Edana shifted in her saddle. “You're joking, of course.”

“I'm plumb serious, Miss Jessup,” Billy assured her.

Neal nodded again. “Sometimes, not often but every now and then, the wind will be just right to raise a devil, only there's no dust to be had. Unless you hear it comin', you can be in trouble.”

Edana had been aware of the keening of the wind, and of something else, a sustained sort of hiss that she realized must be the sound of the spinning dust. Suddenly it became twice as loud, and she glanced up to behold an enormous dust devil sweeping toward them.

“Ride!” Neal bawled at the others, and bending, he smacked her bay on the rump and used his spurs on his buttermilk.

The dust devil whipped toward them faster than a horse could run, sucking more dust as it came, the middle portion bending and curling, its top lost amid the clouds.

Spiked by fear, Edana lashed her reins. The keening and the hissing grew so loud it nearly drowned out the thud of their horses' hooves. Her cheeks and neck were stung again and again, as if by scores of bees.

Edana felt a tug on the back of her vest, and looked over her shoulder. The dust devil was almost on top of them. It had to be thirty feet across and three hundred
feet high. Even as she looked, part of it bulged toward her and the bay as if to envelop them in its coils. A scream rose unbidden to her lips, but she bit it off. Slapping her legs, she grabbed at the saddle horn, afraid she would be torn from her saddle.

The next moment, the keening, and the hissing, faded.

The dust devil had changed direction and was moving away, back toward its point of origin, where others twisted and contorted in incredible gyrations.

Billy let out a loud laugh.

Edana didn't share his elation. The dust devils were a reminder, as if any were needed, that the Badlands were fraught with perils. And that if she wasn't careful, she could end up like her father—in an early grave.

T
hey hadn't gone a mile past the dust plain when they came on a dead steer. It lay on a ridge they were crossing.

Jericho was the first to spot it. He was listening to Neal and Edana talk about how important it was for a puncher to become familiar with every landmark and source of water on a given range when he spied the unmistakable silhouette of a steer's bulk on the crest. Spurring past them, he trotted up the slope and drew rein.

The rest were quick to join him.

Neal took one look and said, “I'll be switched.”

“Why, it's the same as the other ones we found,” Edana said. “Part of the haunch is missing.”

“Someone carved it off, Miss Jessup,” Billy said.

“And left the rest to rot,” Yeager said, “same as before.”

Dismounting, Jericho examined it. “Been dead less than a day,” he reckoned. He pointed at a hole above an eye. “Shot through the head.”

“This makes two.” Neal stated the obvious.

Billy said grimly, “Someone is huntin' our cattle like they're deer or elk.”

“Spread out,” Neal commanded. “Search for sign.”

Taking his reins in his left hand, Jericho searched on foot. He walked in a circle and discovered the tracks almost right away. “A shod horse,” he reported. “It came up the other side of the ridge and left the same way.”

“Then it ain't no Injun,” Billy said.

“Unless it's a lone brave on a white man's horse he stole,” Yeager said.

Jericho supposed that was possible but he doubted it. He suspected their quarry was a white man. Climbing onto his zebra dun, he descended the ridge to a green valley. It was like entering a whole new world. Scores of cattle were grazing. A few, the wilder longhorns, moved off at his approach, but the rest paid him no more mind than they would an antelope.

The tracks skirted the valley rather than make a beeline across it. About halfway around, the steer killer had gone off to the west.

Jericho drew rein and looked at Neal. “Do all of us go after him or only Billy and Yeager and me?” He was giving Neal a chance to keep Miss Jessup out of it.

“All of us will go,” Edana said before Neal could reply. “I'm surprised you would suggest otherwise.”

“There might be violence,” Neal said to her.

“And you think to spare me?” Edana said. “I won't be treated like a child, Mr. Bonner. If I'm to be your boss, I'll do what any other boss would do.”

“Fair enough,” Neal said, “but if lead starts to fly, you're to hunt cover until it's over.”

“I'm not a simpleton.”

“No, you're surely not,” Neal said with a smile. Sobering, he said, “Jericho, you take point.”

Jericho would have done so anyway. Any trouble they ran into, he'd go up against it before they did, allowing the others to protect Miss Jessup. Tapping his spurs, he followed the tracks for more than half a mile, to an expanse of caprock that stretched into the distance.

There, the tracks vanished.

Jericho drew rein.

“Tricky varmint,” Billy said when the others came up.

“Smart varmint,” Yeager amended.

“He must know this country well,” Neal speculated. “He always finds the rockiest ground.”

“We can't keep going?” Edana asked.

“A horse doesn't leave much sign on solid rock,” Neal replied.

“I don't like having our cattle killed,” Edana said.

“Neither do we.”

Edana frowned. “I didn't think to ask. Does something like this happen a lot?”

“Never,” Neal said. “When we get back, we'll spread the word among the hands that any strangers caught on Diamond B land are to be brought to the ranch house for questionin'.”

“What if those strangers refuse?”

Billy chuckled. “We'll bring 'em anyway, ma'am.”

Edana had more on her mind. “Could it be someone who doesn't know any better? Who believes it's perfectly all right to kill our cows for food?”

“Even a simpleton would know better,” Neal said. “No, whoever is doin' this has to know it's wrong but he does it anyhow.”

“The size of the spread,” Jericho mentioned, “it could go on a good long while before we catch him.”

“Can't have that,” Neal said.

“Then how do we stop him?” Edana wanted to know.

“We organize a huntin' party,” Neal said. “Jericho there will lead it. Might as well have Billy and Yeager tag along. The next time a steer is found, we send them out and they stay on the buzzard's trail until they catch him. Or he loses them again.”

“I'd like him brought back alive.”

Jericho looked at her. “Do you realize what you're askin', ma'am?”

“I certainly do,” Edana said. “I want to question him and find out why he's done this.”

“What Jericho means,” Neal said, “is that by havin' to take the varmint alive, you make it harder for them. They'll have to hold back and the steer killer won't.”

“Then let me make myself clear,” Edana said. “Take him alive if you can, without endangering yourselves. If that's not possible, shoot the son of a bitch.” She smiled sweetly.

Jericho grinned at the startled expression on Neal. “That's the first time I've ever heard you cuss, ma'am.”

“You should hear me when I stub my toe,” Edana said.

Billy laughed. “Ma'am, you're a caution. You'd do to ride the river with.”

“I take it that's a compliment. Thank you,” Edana said.

Jericho was thinking of the steer killer. Judging by the size of the bullet holes, whoever shot them used a large-caliber rifle. Something to keep in mind when the hunt commenced in earnest.

“We might as well get back to our tour,” Neal said. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”

“I must say,” Edana said as she raised her reins. “I never expected anything like this when my father accepted the position. The West is full of the unexpected.”

“Ain't it the truth, ma'am?” Jericho said.

•   •   •

Neal Bonner had been wondering when Franklyn Wells would show up, and he got his answer three weeks to the day after Alexander Jessup's misguided attempt to ride the mustang.

Neal was coming out of the stable when he spotted a couple of punchers escorting a rider in, and went over. “Mr. Wells. You should have sent word. I'd've had someone meet you in town.”

Franklyn Wells was weary from his long travel, and it showed. He dismounted stiffly, doffed his bowler, and mopped at his brow with a handkerchief. “I sent a letter explaining when I would arrive, but evidently you didn't receive it.”

“Mail service out here is a mite spotty,” Neal said.

One of the hands remarked, “We saw him crossin' our range and brought him in, like you said to do.”

“We didn't know who he was,” said the other cowboy.

“You did right,” Neal complimented them. “Grab a bite to eat and then head out again.”

The pair made for the cookhouse.

Franklyn Wells was gazing about him with an air of intent interest. “I must say, you have the ranch bustling.”

“It's not my doin' so much as Miss Jessup's,” Neal said. “She took over from her pa and has been handlin' things right fine.”

“Yes, well.” Wells unhooked his travel bag from his saddle horn. “That's what I'm here to talk about.”

Neal motioned at the ranch house and they started off. “It must have come as a shock hearin' about Mr. Jessup.”

“You have no idea,” Wells said. “The man had barely begun working for us.” He shook his head. “What was Alexander thinking? He tried to ride a wild horse, I've been told.”

“A mustang that had been broke,” Neal clarified.

“Not broken enough, apparently,” Wells said. “Why on earth did you let him do it?”

“There isn't a day my conscience doesn't prick at me,” Neal confessed. “As for why, he was the big sugar.” He added, in case Wells was unfamiliar with cattle lingo, “I was hired to do whatever he told me, and he hankered to ride that horse.”

“His unexpected demise has thrown the consortium into disarray. They were caught completely unprepared. It never occurred to them that he might need to be replaced.”

“They already have a replacement,” Neal said. “Edana Jessup.”

“Yes, well,” Franklyn Wells said again.

Neal didn't like the sound of that.

As they climbed to the porch, the front door opened and out Edana came, smiling warmly.

Thrusting out her hand, she said, “Franklyn. It's a delight to see you again.”

Wells shook with some reserve. “It's taken longer than I'd have liked to get here. The heads of the consortium didn't want me to come until they'd reached a decision about the new management. It took over a week of voting for them to come to a consensus.”

“There's no need to hire someone new,” Edana said. “You have me.”

“Mr. Bonner is of a similar mind,” Wells said, and rubbed his chin. “We need to discuss things, but first I'd like to wash up and perhaps rest a little.”

“Of course. Go right ahead,” Edana said. “It's only about one o'clock. Why don't you relax until supper? Say, about six we'll sit down and hash things out?”

“Hash?” Wells said, and chuckled halfheartedly. “They're turning you into a Westerner, I see, my dear.”

“I've been striving my utmost to become one,” Edana said. “But you'll hear all about that at supper.”

Neal followed them inside and stayed in the parlor while Edana ushered Wells up to his room. He was perched on the settee, his hat in hand, when she came back down. Rising, he said, “Any hints?”

“He's holding something back,” Edana said. “I suspect it will be bad news.”

“You'll have your chance to make your case,” Neal said. “That's what counts.”

Edana placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you for your encouragement. You've stood by me through this whole ordeal. I wouldn't have been able to do it without your help.”

“Shucks. I was glad to. I'd do anything you wanted of me.”

“I know,” Edana said, and rising onto her toes, she kissed him lightly on the mouth.

Neal thought his face had burst into flame. “What was that for?” he asked, his voice sounding ten times huskier than it usually did.

“Consider it a lady's way of expressing her gratitude,” Edana said. She turned and was almost to the hallway when she stopped. Without looking back at him, she said, “No. It's time we were honest with each other. It was more than that.”

“Oh?” Neal said, his tongue practically cleaving to the roof of his mouth.

“You must know how I feel,” Edana said, “and if you didn't, you do now. No matter what happens with Mr. Wells, nothing will change that. It's something we should talk about . . . after.” She hastened toward the kitchen.

Neal stood there a full minute, burning all over. Jamming his hat on, he walked to the front door in a daze. He could still feel her lips on his. He stepped outside, shook his head, and said to himself, “I am plumb flabbergasted.”

“At what?”

Neal glanced up.

Jericho was leaning against the porch rail, his arms folded across his chest. “You look as if you just stepped on a cactus.”

Going over, Neal leaned next to him. “You won't believe it.”

“Try me.”

Keeping his voice law in case any of the hands drifted past, Neal said, “Miss Jessup just kissed me.”

“I'm shocked.”

“Why did you say that as if you're not?”

Jericho responded, “You might know cattle inside out, pard, but you don't savvy women at all.”

“And you do, I suppose?”

“It's been as plain as that nose on your face that you and her have been settin' the bag for weeks now.”

“I've been courtin' her and didn't realize it?”

“If you didn't, you're the only one on the ranch.”

Neal burned again, but this time with indignation. “That's a hell of a thing to say to me. You, of all people.”

“It's the truth,” Jericho said. “The other night over in
the bunkhouse, Billy had everybody in stitches when he remarked that whenever you two look at each other, he expects to hear violin music.”

“I will by God bean him with a brandin' iron.”

“What are you so riled about? She threw her loop over you and you stepped into it.”

“You, too?” Neal said.

“Deny it all you want,” Jericho said. “It won't change how things are.”

Wrestling with his emotions, Neal fell silent for a bit. “It came out of the blue, is all,” he said quietly.

“They say the real article does that.”

“Since when did you become an expert on romance?” Neal asked, grinning lopsidedly.

“I'm not. But I know you, pard. That gal is smitten. Now you have to decide what to do about it.”

“Yes,” Neal said, “I do.”