Dark Journey Home (27 page)

However, feeling assured that there would be no
mistaking that huge powerful frame of Garth’s, Lord Beckford added, “Well…..Ranger
Welby….rest assured that by now my nephew had ‘renewed’ his acquaintance with
my niece’s ardent admirer.  Where Henry J. Adams is concerned, the scoundrel
apparently hasn’t given up in his pursuit, though perhaps Garth will convince
him to seek a ‘healthier’ hobby, other than pursuing a young lady who obviously
cannot stand him. 

“My nephew has always been very protective of Olivia,
however,” Beckford paused a moment, “we were all under the false impression
that the Henry Adams chapter of our lives had been closed.  The man must be a
slow learner, and may need a bit of educating.  As far as the shooting is
concerned, he probably, in the dark foothills, mistook Olson for my friend
Logan here, both being tall lean cowboys, wearing similar western garb. 
Another bad mistake on his part, which appears to be a pattern in his makeup.

“Possibly, from what I can determine from his
rantings, he believes there to be a romantic attachment with Olivia and Logan
here.”  He looked over at Logan, who had no answer for the way the conversation
was turning, a bit close to his true feelings.

 Ricardo who had, up to that time, been silently standing
away from the group, deep in thought, in the shadow of a grove of aspens, now
strode forward and spoke in his soft, heavily accented Spanish diction, “I have
had extensive teaching experience, Señor, so with your permission, if the
hombre bothers the señorita Olivia, or in any way injures her person, or even
so much as hurts her feelings, I can assure you, mi amigo, that it would be his
last move on this earth, as I will teach him well and  it will be his last
lesson.” 

Ricardo mounted his pinto and then turned in the
saddle, “When I return to town, I shall seek out this hombre Adams, to wish him
well in his journey back to his country, and I may urge him to seriously
consider an immediate and hasty departure……that is…..if nephew Garth is
finished with him.  Though I would not be so gentle in my dealings with the gringo. 
I am not widely known to be neither a kind nor a gentle person.  Maria’s former
admirers would attest to that fact.”

Ricardo touched his sombrero, “Adios, amigos.”  He
said, as he nudged the horse with his heels, then trotted off through the
aspens toward the dark trail to town.

Cougar Olson and Jake Welby were mounted and riding
the other trail towards the rugged mountains where the line shack stood among
the majestic lodgepole pines. 

Logan Wakefield and Lord Beckford chatted a few more
moments, making plans for the following morning, when they would be taking
steps to assure Beckford’s possession of his ranch.

“As I have said before, sir,” Logan began, “the ranch
hands are armed, so care must be taken that no innocent person is injured. 
They must be informed upon our arrival that you are the owner and, therefore,
if they have any question of who is boss of the outfit, they are to stay out of
it, unless they want to be charged as accessories to a crime.

“I seriously doubt they will back Perkins and
Holderman, once they realize that ownership of the property is in question. 
After all those two characters are not the most popular men in the territory,
and I’m banking on the fact that most of the hands are honest men and would not
want to be caught up in a legal dispute such as this.”

It was only a few short hours to daylight as Logan and Beckford galloped over the wooden bridge, spanning the gurgling creek,
approaching the main street of Coyote Springs.

The livery stable was dark and unattended, so they
unsaddled their mounts, along with Adams’ rented horse which they returned to
the livery, and, after a rubdown, put each horse into an empty stall, fed them
a helping of oats, then the weary men headed over to the hotel.

“Wonder where Garth took Adams, and if Ricardo caught
up with them.”  Logan said, “Well, I’m sure we’ll hear about it in the
morning.”

Lord Beckford answered, “Probably dropped him off at the
doctor’s house, and I’m sure Henry was ready to be dropped off anywhere, even
the town jail might look good to him, though I’m not sure if the marshal would
take him, maybe the county sheriff.  I heard the sheriff has a place somewhere
south of town.  I had, in the past, been under the impression that Adams was harmless, though determined, and persistent like a pesky fly, but after seeing
his actions….hearing his ravings tonight, I’m not at all sure.  I would
strongly question the stability of the chap’s mental condition.”

“You could be right, sir, though I would strongly
suspect that if a sheriff locked up all the crazies in the west every time
someone shot off a gun, there wouldn’t be enough cells to go around.”

Beckford chuckled, “It’s that rough?”  He asked.

Logan
thought a
moment, “From what I remember, it’s worse.  You just haven’t seen it all yet,
though I’d still prefer the west to just about anywhere else in the world. 
Guess I missed it these last years.  All I ever knew growin’ up was the sage,
cactus, mesquite, horses and cattle, mountains, pines, sunsets…….ever notice
how the sun sets over a western mountaintop?  Nothing like it in the world,
sir, nothing at all.  Then again, there’s the sun rising in the desert after a
cool rainy night.  Then it just gets hot and burns the hell out of everything.

“I like even the wildness of the west, Indians,
outlaws, and all that.  Guess I just don’t know any better.  After being held
captive on that ship all those years, I’d even welcome an Indian uprising now
and again.  I’ve seen a few of those too.  Then again, maybe I wouldn’t exactly
want that. 

“Some towns though, you know, aren’t exactly nice and
fixed-up, like Coyote Springs, some of those buildings are downright scraggly,
false-fronted and all, but I guess I even like them.  That shootin’ back there
in the hills tonight, why normally that’s just all in a day’s work, and in most
towns folks don’t even notice when shots are fired, they get so used to hearing
the noise.  Things don’t appear to have changed much in the last few years,
seems like.”

Beckford turned and studied Logan’s ruggedly handsome
features, as they walked up to the flowering lawn, then the board walkway
leading to the Coyote Springs hotel, he stated, “You are a deep man, Logan my
boy……..a deep thinking man.”

The following morning, Wednesday in late august to be
exact, Logan was up before dawn, having slept only four hours, too restless to
stay abed longer.  After bathing, he shaved off the dark stubble from his face,
finished dressing and buckled on his gun belt, then after checking the load in
his colt and holstering the weapon, he raised the shade covering the only
window of the room. 

Only then did he realize that it was raining outside,
a steady drizzle, a light rain which was just enough to wet down the dusty road
of the main street, and add sparkle to the potted plants and many geraniums
which dotted the border of the front lawn, and at the same time, soaking up the
wood of the rail fence which surrounded three sides of the lawn.  Logan stood
staring at the wet drips running down the outside of the glass, then headed
across the room, grabbed his hat, opened the doorway, scanned the dimly-lit
hallway, from a habit long remembered, and hurried down the stairway. 

As he crossed the lobby, he nodded a greeting to the
sleepy desk clerk, then entered the dining room, needing his morning coffee
more than anything, that which he always enjoyed now, especially after missing
the fragrant brew for over eight long tragic years. 

Logan
was surprised to
see Olivia sitting at a small square table, in a far corner, along with Maria
and Ricardo.  He never ceased to be amazed at her natural beauty.  He wasn’t
sure now if it was a cup of coffee that led him to the dining room or the hope
of possibly seeing Olivia, he was not at all sure; either way he welcomed the
pleasure of both.  He took off his black  hat, and after hanging it on a hook
on the wall near the table, he pulled back the remaining chair and seated
himself, with Olivia on his left, Ricardo on his right, and Maria across the
table from him.

The middle-aged waitress was in the process of setting
plates of steaming food on the table, fried eggs, potatoes, bacon and
flapjacks.  Then she set down a cup for Logan and commenced to pour it full of
coffee.

“Morning, folks.”  Logan nodded to the three, giving
Olivia his best morning smile.  She murmured a quick “Good morning”, then began
dishing up a small serving of breakfast for herself.

The waitress set an empty plate in front of Logan, and
motioned to the platters of food, “There be plenty enough for all, dig in while
it’s hot.”  Then she called back over her shoulder as she walked back to the
kitchen, carrying the hot pot of coffee, “If you run out, just give a holler.” 
She paused at the door leading to the kitchen, looked back once more in Logan’s direction, and thought to herself, “My Lord, that cowboy’s a handsome one…..if I
was just a few years younger.” 

The cook, a gray-haired heavy-set man, sporting a food
stained, and at some point white, apron tied around his generous middle,
laughed at her, and said, “Dolly, I’ve seen that expression on your face ever
since that cowboy hit town.  Get over it; can’t you see he’s enamored with the
young lady sitting next to him?” 

“Oh, I seen that alright.”  She walked on into the
kitchen, and added, “I can dream can’t I?  One thing you can’t take away is
dreams…..and mind your own business anyhow.” She laughingly swatted the cook
with a napkin.

After a couple of swallows of strong black coffee, Logan turned to Ricardo, “Amigo, I’m surprised you are up before the chickens this
morning, even the roosters are still asleep.”  He grinned as he began dishing
up a huge plateful of food. 

Ricardo answered between bites of crisp bacon, “Only a
gringo would say as much, amigo; we caballeros from south of the border, we
take our siestas when the sun she is high and hot.”

Logan grinned and commenced eating, as he waved a hand
toward the side windows, and after chewing then swallowing a mouthful of eggs,
said “My unobserving Amigo, in case you haven’t looked outside this morning,
there is no sunshine out there, only rain…..a nice steady shower.  No siestas
in the afternoon sun for you, we should have a good day of muddy trails to
travel in, and possibly wet clothing, and unless you provide yourself with a
slicker while we ride out to the ranch.  Me I forgot to buy one, but I’ll take
care of that matter soon as the mercantile opens for business.”

After the meal was finished, Logan excused himself,
saying, “I need to send a wire to my Pa, let him know I’m still around.”  He
and Ricardo agreed to meet at the mercantile to pick up some slickers to wear
on the trail.

Logan
dashed through
the steady downpour, his booted feet splashing through deep puddles on the
boardwalk, to the entrance of the western union office, which was located next
door to the hotel.

The door was locked, but the place was apparently
ready for business, as the door was quickly opened as soon as he knocked.  Logan stepped inside, as the agent then closed the door against the dampness of the
outside.

“Wet out there, huh Mister?”  The man asked.

“Is it?  I hadn’t noticed.”  Logan answered with a
straight face, as he shook the excess water from his hat.

“Funny, very funny.”  The agent said.  “Well, I got a
sense of humor too.  Just call me Homer, if you like.”  He then stepped behind
the small, though cluttered, counter.

“Alright, Homer,” Logan began, “yeah, it is wet out
there.  Nice weather, if you’re a duck.  Haven’t even heard a rooster crow yet
this morning though, guess he don’t want to get wet either, probably hangin’
‘round the henhouse, hoping to steal their feed.”

Homer chuckled, and said, “Some of the townsfolk have
threatened to get that old rooster the next time they hear him raisin’ up a
fuss, and toss him into the cookstove, feathers an’ all.  Maybe one of ‘em done
it.  Well maybe not though, they do kinda favor ‘im a might.”

He peered closely at Logan, and asked, “You want to
send a wire, son?” 

Logan
handed the agent
the paper he had been writing the message to his father on.  The wire was
short, and to the point.