Song of the Road (33 page)

“But they’re not your horses, huh,
amigo
?”

“No they’re not my horses. It’ll be a while before I have my own spread. This will do for now.” Jake headed for the door. “See ya, Paco.”

“I’ll keep my eyes and ears open,
mi amigo.
” Paco followed Jake to the door and locked it after he passed through.

Jake walked briskly down the street, nodding to those who acknowledged him, ignoring the others. He had been away from the motor court for a little less than two hours and was anxious to get back.

Coming across the field, Jake could see that Eli was hoeing in the little vegetable garden that he and Mary Lee had planted beside the washhouse. The sheriff’s car was out front. Deke was sitting on one of the barrels that blocked the drive, so that he could watch the front of the house.

With hoe in hand, Eli went to meet Jake.

“What’s going on?”

“Mrs. Finley’s been in a awful state. She’s cussin’ the sheriff and ever’body else. I wish she’d just . . . go. She’s killin’ Mary Lee,” he said angrily. “She’s talkin’ somethin’ terrible to her.”

Mary Lee was in the kitchen wetting a cloth in the wash pan when Jake opened the door. Her hair was in tangles, her face pale and pinched. She looked at him then quickly away, afraid that he might read in her face her newly discovered feelings about him and his about her.

He placed the bundle on the table and broke the twine. “I’ve brought tequila.”

“Oh, thank goodness. The doctor is supposed to be here this morning. He said that he’d bring some.”

Jake unwrapped the bottles and opened one. Mary Lee held a glass while he poured in a couple of inches.

“Is that enough?”

“Fine. Thank you. I’ll pay for it, but first let me give this to her.” She left the room hurriedly.

Jake could hear her talking to her mother and Trudy. When it was quiet, Trudy came out of the room.

“It’s been just awful,” she said as soon as she saw Jake. “She’s out of her head most of the time, cussin’ and swearin’ somethin’ crazy. She’d have nothin’ to do with the sheriff. Called him the nastiest names I ever heard. She blames him for taking Frank to jail. Thank goodness you came with the whiskey.”

“It’s tequila. Alcohol is what she wants. She won’t care what kind.”

On hearing a knock at the back door, Trudy went to open it for a short, plump woman with dark, gray-streaked hair. She was carrying a pan wrapped in a cloth. Jake hastily removed his hat and held it to his side.

“Come in, Mrs. Santez.”

“
Hola,
Trudy.”

“Do you know Jake Ramero?”

“When he little boy. I see him.” The large brown eyes twinkled up at him. “He big man now.” She smiled and held out her hand. “My Ollie say you good man. He glad you here with Mary Lee.”

“It’s nice to see you, Mrs. Santez. And thank Ollie for the vote of confidence.” Jake took the small, plump hand in his. A vision of his own mother, long gone, flashed before his eyes. She was much like Mrs. Santez, small and gentle.

“I bring enchiladas for supper.”

“Thank you.” Trudy took the pan and placed it on the table. “They smell so good!” She saw Mrs. Santez eyeing the bottles of tequila. After glancing at Jake, she said, “The doctor said to give Mrs. Finley what she wants. Jake was good enough to get this for her.”

“It’s a shame.
Yi, yi, yi.
A wasted life.” Rosa Santez shook her head.

Jake edged toward the door and slammed his hat down on his head. “Bye, Trudy, Mrs. Santez.” He was out the door before they could reply.

Chapter 23

O
CIE
C
LAWSON’S BOOTED FEET WERE PROPPED
on the railing of his front porch. He liked to sit there in the evening and look at the hills that surrounded the ranch. Life was a bitch. He never thought that he would admit that he was lonely, but, dammit to hell, he was. He rattled around in this big old house with only María coming in and out to clean and cook a meal. He should have sons living on the ranch, running things, instead of a shirttail relation. And grandkids racing in and out of the house and driving him crazy with questions and rowdiness.

Hell, he should have married after Edith died. He wasn’t too old then to have a houseful of kids.

Ocie saw one of the hands come out of the cook shack and called to him.

“Come sit awhile, Ben.”

“Was goin’ to,” Ben said as he neared. “Was goin’ to offer to beat ya in a game of checkers.”

“Big of ya, Ben. How many times have I beat you over the years?”

“Harrupmt!” Ben came slowly up the steps to the porch and sank down in an old unpainted rocking chair. He tapped a forefinger on his head. “That’s about the only thing workin’ good anymore.”

“You gettin’ down in the back, old man?”

“Hell. Ain’t it time?”

“Guess so. You’ve been here almost as long as those hills out there.”

“Temple hired me. Musta been forty years ago. I was just a beanpole of a kid. Thought I knew it all. But when it come right down to it, I didn’t know shit from Shinola.”

“Time flies.”

“I’ve been here so long, I expected to be buried here.”

“Expected? You thinkin’ of leavin’?” Ocie looked sharply at the old man. His hair was white, his legs bowed, his face so weathered it looked like saddle leather. The Circle C wouldn’t be the same without him.

“Ain’t wantin’ to. Don’t have no place much to go.”

“Then why’n hell did ya say that for?”

“Thin’s ain’t the same here, Ocie. When’s the last time ya saw the men gather ’round for a ropin’ contest, or a-fiddlin’ or just sittin’ around a fire gabbin’? A lot of the old hands have been run off. Only me, Tom and Howdy is left of the old bunch.”

“There’s new ways of doin’ things, Ben.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

During the long silence that followed, twittering birds began to settle in the trees for the night. A few stars came out. A truck with several cowhands in the back left for town.

“Didn’t used to be no goin’ to town ’cept on Saturday night,” Ben remarked. “Used to be a man or a kid could come in here and get a bed and a meal for a day’s work.”

Ocie was quiet for a long moment before he asked, “What’a ya mean? Man or kid? There was a kid here a while back eatin’ his head off and lazin’ in the bunkhouse.”

“That kid worked his tail off for the grub he ate,” Ben said bluntly, and clamped his mouth shut.

“Wasn’t the grub good enough? Is that why he left?”

“He was run off and you damn well know it, Ocie.”

“I know no such thing, dammit. Didn’t know he was gone till I saw him at the motor court in town.”

“Glad to hear he found some decent folks to take him in.” Things had changed here at the ranch in more ways than one, Ocie thought. He’d gradually let Lon take over the hiring, and what did he have? A bunch of men he didn’t know, and most of them he didn’t like. They had no loyalty to the spread or to him. They did the jobs assigned by Lon, took orders from Lon and ignored him for the most part.

One by one, the old cowhands, some of whom had been at the ranch for ten years or more, had left. He looked over at Ben and saw that he was gazing off toward the foothills. The old cowhand had lived most of his life here on the ranch and knew more of what was going on than he himself did. Hell, how had he let the running of this place slip out of his hands?

“Ben, you and Tom and Howdy have a home here at the Circle C as long as you want it, whether you can work or not.”

Ben turned his grizzled head. “That’s decent of ya, Ocie. Lon’d not stand for that. He expects a man to put in a full day’s work.”

“Lon doesn’t own this ranch. I do.”

“Does he know that?”

“What’a ya mean?”

Ben shrugged his thin shoulders. “I better be gettin’ on back to the bunkhouse.” He made an attempt to rise a couple of times before he got to his feet.

“Has Lon threatened to run you, Tom and Howdy off?” Ben took a grip on the porch post before he answered. “Not in so many words, but he’s workin’ on it. He’d rather not have us around. Now, don’t be goin’ and sayin’ so. I ain’t wantin’ a busted hip or a broke leg.”

“Could that happen, Ben?”

“Wal . . . I ain’t wantin’ to chance it. Last few months three cowhands got busted up and had to leave.”

“I never heard about it.”

“Happened mostly while they was out riding fence or roundin’ up strays and you was holed up in here.”

“And you think . . .”

“I ain’t thinkin’ nothin’. All I know is they wasn’t no friends of Lon’s. They’d bucked him some.”

Ocie stared at the old man for a minute, then turned to see Lon coming toward them from the side of the porch.

“Howdy, Ben. Howdy, Ocie. Ben, I was lookin’ for you. In the mornin’ I want you to ride out to Rusty Ridge and take a look around. One of the hands said he found a couple of calves pulled down by wolves just south of there.”

“I want Ben to work here in the house tomorrow. I think there’s a leak in the water pipes. They got to be flushed out anyway.”

“I’ll take a look at it.”

“Ben was here when the pipes were put in. Send one of the younger men to Rusty Ridge.”

Lon’s shuttered eyes went from the old man to Ocie. “If that’s what you want.”

“See you in the mornin’, Ben.”

“’Night, Ocie. ’Night, Lon.”

After Ben left, Lon said, “What’s he harpin’ about?”

“Harpin’? Not a thin’. I called him over to talk about my water pipes.”

“He’s deadwood around here, ya know,” Lon said between clenched teeth. “He’s gettin’ too old to carry his weight.”

“You wantin’ to put him out to pasture or shoot him like a broken-down old horse that ain’t worth feedin’?”

“Ranchin’ is a business, Ocie. Not an old folks’ home.”

“I’m the owner here, Lon. You just work for me. Don’t send Ben out unless you check with me.”

Lon shrugged as if the order was of no consequence, but his clenched jaws didn’t go unnoticed by Ocie.

“Another thin’,” Ocie said. “Get rid of Yancy, Pete and that squint-eyed knife thrower. Give them a half month’s pay and tell ’em if they step foot on this ranch, I’ll meet ’em with a shotgun.”

“They’re already gone. Ramero started the fight, but they could’ve backed off.”

“Jake admitted it. Yancy was talkin’ nasty about Mary Lee. Jake ain’t standin’ by and hearin’ that kind of talk ’bout a decent woman.”

“Decent? Horsecock! He’s shackin’ up with her, hopin’ to get his hands on the motor court.”

“Ya know that for a fact?” Anger tightened the muscles in Ocie’s face.

“No, but there’s talk.”

“And you’re helpin’ to spread it.”

“Why’re ya takin’ up for that jailbird all of a sudden? He was a nasty know-it-all kid who turned into a goddamn thief.”

“Maybe.” Ocie was aware that Lon was making every effort to hold on to his temper. “I saw where your squint-eyed knifer tried to gut him.”

“He wasn’t
my
knifer,” Lon said sharply.

“You hired him.”

“And I fired him.”

“Before you hire anyone else check with me.”

“What’s brought this on? Ben complainin’?”

“Goddammit, I got eyes! I know more about what goes on around here than you think I do. I don’t have to depend on an old man like Ben to tell me.”

Lon switched the matchstick in his mouth from one side to the other, letting his temper cool before he spoke.

“All right,” he said smoothly. “You’re the boss.”

But not for long, you son of a bitch. I do the work around here and I’m sick of bein’ talked down to by you.

After Lon stalked off toward the little cabin set alongside the bunkhouse, Ocie sat on the porch watching the bats flit here and there and remembered when Lon had come to the ranch some fifteen years ago. He had been a cocky kid who liked to be the center of attention. More than once Temple would have given Lon the boot if he hadn’t been a relation.

Gradually over the years Lon had settled down, become a good hand. After Temple died and Bobby had turned out to be such a disappointment, Lon had stepped in and filled a void. Ocie had had no reason to doubt his loyalty until now.

Was he vindictive enough to pin a lie on a man that would send him to prison because of something that had happened when he was a kid?

Doctor Morris had gone out to a ranch to deliver a baby, and it was nearly noon when he arrived to see Dolly.

Mary Lee was sitting with her mother when Trudy brought the doctor to the bedroom. He placed his bag on the foot of the bed and nodded to Mary Lee when she stood to relinquish her chair beside the bed.

“Bad night?”

“Yes, sir. I got a little bread and milk down her, but all she’ll drink is the tequila Jake brought.”

“I thought that would be the case.” Doctor Morris pulled down the sheet. His fingers swept lightly over Dolly’s distended belly.