The H&R Cattle Company (11 page)

Hunter continued to eye the handsome young man as he ate his own meal. For a moment, he thought about paying for the man's dinner, but quickly decided against it. The young man was dining courtesy of Oscar Land, and Hunter had no interest in saving the liveryman the price of a meal. Zack had finished his stew and was eating a piece of cake when Oscar's cousin left the counter and headed for the front door. As he passed by, Zack decided that the man stood five-ten and weighed about two hundred pounds.

After having two drinks at the White Horse Saloon, Zack drove the team to the feed store, where he loaded the wagon with grain and hay. At the general store he bought beans, bacon, an assortment of canned goods, two dozen eggs and a smoked ham, then selected three boxes of ammunition for his Colt.

As he neared the livery stable on his way out of town, he could see Oscar Land standing out front, accompanied by the young man Zack had seen in the restaurant. He brought the horses to a halt and stepped from the wagon, nodding to both men.

Land stepped forward quickly. “I think it's about time you two met each other,” he said, pointing a thumb at each man. “Zack Hunter, meet my cousin, Jolly Ross.”

Hunter shook Ross's outstretched hand and was not surprised that the young man's firm grip matched his own. Ross smiled broadly, revealing rows of near-perfect teeth. “Cousin Oscar thinks you need some help,” he said in a deep baritone voice, “and I was wondering if you think so, too.”

Zack smiled at the young man's choice of words. “I don't know what I could put a man to doing right now,” he said. “I don't have a single cow on my property.”

Ross nodded, then was silent.

Not so with Oscar. “You're gonna be getting some cattle, you said so yourself. I'll tell you right now, you don't just up and drive a herd of cattle onto a ranch. You've got to get the place ready first. There are a thousand and one things to do, and you're gonna need some help getting them done.” That said, the liveryman began to stare at the ground, seeming to sense that he had said enough.

Zack stood quietly staring off into space for a while, then turned to face Ross. “I'll think on it overnight, Jolly. If you don't have anything better to do tomorrow, you can ride out to the ranch and we'll talk about it further.”

Ross spoke quickly: “I already know that I won't have anything better to do. I'll see you tomorrow, Mister Hunter.”

“Zack,” Hunter said. “Just Zack.” He climbed to the wagon seat and guided the team toward County Line Road.

When Zack finished his breakfast next morning, he placed a pot of ham and beans on the back of the stove to simmer. He replaced the weak plank on the porch, then walked to the barn. He worked there for two hours doing one thing or another and was busy greasing a wagon wheel when he heard someone calling from the yard. “Come on down to the barn,” Zack said loudly when he recognized the rider.

Jolly Ross rode down the slope on a large gray gelding and tied the animal to a fence post. “Sure ain't nothing wrong with this place,” he said, walking toward Zack with his right hand extended.

Zack stood wiping the grease from his hand with an empty grain sack. “Thank you for coming out, Jolly,” he said, then motioned toward the house. “Won't take but a few minutes to warm up the coffee.” He shook hands with Ross.

Zack stoked the fire and put on the coffeepot, and the men were soon sitting at the kitchen table sipping. “I don't know for sure what I'm gonna do with this place, Jolly,” Zack said after a while. “I don't even know if I can make a living with it. I bought it mainly because I have to have somewhere to live, and I don't like towns.”

Ross shook his head. “I don't either.” He took a sip of his coffee, then smacked his lips. “No problem making a living off this place, though. A man could grow a whole lot of what he eats.” He pointed down the slope. “I noticed the perfect place for a garden down there across the road. You can fence in two or three acres with poles and split rails, but the fence has to be high enough that the deer can't jump it. Deer will destroy anything you plant if they can get to it.” He motioned down the slope again. “A couple acres of corn down there would produce an awful lot of horse feed.”

Zack nodded. “That would sure help, all right. Buying grain gets to be expensive.” He rose and refilled both coffee cups, then reseated himself. “The ranch consists of three sections of land, Jolly. How many cattle will it support?”

“I believe I'd allow ten acres for each cow.” He sipped from his cup, then began to scratch his chin. “Three sections amounts to nineteen hundred twenty acres, so that means a hundred ninety-two cows. Two hundred head would be about right.” He began to smile. “Don't guess it hurts to overstock a little bit and fatten your cows on your neighbor's grass. Most ranchers won't complain as long as they see you over there every day driving your cattle home. The trick is to do that along about noon, after your cows have done most of their eating for the day.”

Zack chuckled. “You talk like a man who has done that.”

“Sure have. Lots of times.”

They talked for the remainder of the morning. Zack put a pan of cornbread in the oven just before noon, and a short time later sat down to a meal of beans and ham with his newly hired hand.

Jolly Ross had agreed to a salary of thirty dollars a month, saying that he was happy to have a place to hang his hat after being out of work for so long. He had almost been ready to return to South Texas, he said, and had even considered asking his former overbearing boss for his old job back. Ross had paid his own way since the age of thirteen, he said, and allowing Oscar Land to buy his meals at Toby's T-Bone had put a lump in his throat. He appreciated his cousin's generosity, he said, but the food had not been easy to swallow.

Ross had been born on a ranch in the lower Rio Grande Valley in 1854. By the time he was a toddler, his father had gone west in search of gold and had never returned. His mother remarried when Jolly was eight. The following year she moved to California with her new husband, leaving the boy to be shifted back and forth between his grandfather and his aunt. During the few years he attended school, he learned to read and write well enough, and became particularly adept at working with figures. Arithmetic was easy for him right from the start, and he could solve most problems he encountered without the use of pencil and paper.

Jolly had no idea where in the world his mother and father were, and had more than once been heard to say that he did not give a damn. Shortly after his thirteenth birthday, he took a job as an errand runner and general flunky on a huge ranch in Hidalgo County. By the time he was fifteen, he was sitting his saddle beside the rest of the cowboys and was considered a top hand. He had participated in two trail drives north to Kansas, the second one being only last year.

When they had finished eating, they returned to the barn. Zack resumed his work on the wagon, while Jolly led his horse into the corral and removed the saddle. “You'll find oats in that metal bin just inside the door,” Zack called. “Feed your horse in the third stall on the right every day. Pretty soon he'll know that's where he belongs.”

Ross led the animal to the stall and curried it as it ate. Then, as always, he wiped its sides down with the saddle blanket. He owned a good horse, and treated it accordingly. Standing more than sixteen hands high and weighing over a thousand pounds, the animal appeared to be black when viewed from a distance. It was only when the horse moved closer that its color became a dark, speckled gray. The beautiful animal was six years old, and Jolly Ross had been its master for the past three years. The colt had been raised on the very ranch where Jolly had worked, and he had made a deal with his boss to have the price of the animal deducted from his wages.

Ross's saddle was of the same quality as his horse, and it had cost more than twice as much—which was not at all unusual. Most cowboys insisted on a good saddle, whatever the cost. A few saddlemakers, known for their fine craftsmanship, might charge a cowboy a year's pay for a saddle. Even so, the better saddlemakers usually had a long list of customers waiting. A custom-built saddle was a thing of pride for most Western men.

Ross returned to the shed to find Zack tossing pieces of lumber over the fence. “We'll use these two-by-fours and one-by-sixes to build you a bunk along the living-room wall,” Zack said. “I would offer you that bed in the back room, but it belongs to my friend. No telling when he'll be needing it.”

Ross walked through the gate and began to pick up the boards. “I might not be able to sleep on a soft bed anyway. I don't recall sleeping any better on the few times that I've done it. I'll just spread my bedroll on the bunk. First time I'm in town with the wagon and have some money, I'll pick up some kind of mattress.”

Zack walked through the gate and shoved an eagle into Jolly's vest pocket. “Here's some money,” he said. “Take the wagon into town tomorrow and get whatever you need. I'll find something to do around here while you're gone.”

Ross nodded, then smiled. “I probably don't need it, but I sure would like to have a sack of smoking tobacco. Sometimes I damn near have a fit for a cigarette right after I eat.”

Zack reached into his pocket, saying, “You being out of work for a while, I guess you need a lot of things.” He handed the young man another eagle. “Here's ten dollars more. Just consider it a draw against your wages.”

Two days later, they were on the hill half a mile north of the house, cutting wood for the stove and fireplace. They had felled half a dozen oaks, which would be sawed into blocks of different lengths. The shorter blocks would be split for the kitchen stove, while the longer ones would be used in the fireplace. Hunter had a sledge and two wedges for splitting any blocks that proved too stubborn for the ax.

“I guess we've got enough trees on the ground,” he said. He laid the crosscut saw aside and began to chop limbs off the fallen tree with the ax. “Have yourself a cigarette, then we'll saw up this log and haul it to the house. I guess by then we'll both be ready for some supper.”

Ross sat down on the stump and began to fashion a cigarette. “You thought any more about fencing in a plot of ground south of the road?” he asked, licking the paper and giving it a final twist.

“I sure have, Jolly. As soon as we get a winter's supply of wood cut, we'll go to work on that. The idea of having a crib full of corn for the horses seems like a good one, and I suppose I like fresh vegetables just as well as the next man. How long do you think it'll take to build the fence?”

Ross blew a cloud of smoke. “Probably a month or more. I'll lay it off with the turning plow first, then plow the topsoil under. We'll let it lie upside down all winter and turn it over again next spring. Be best to let me get the plowing done before we start on the fence.”

*   *   *

Winter came early to Central Texas this year. It was only mid-October and already the temperature had begun to drop below the freezing point at night. Even at midday, both Zack and Jolly wore heavy coats when outside the house, and a fire burned in the fireplace most of the time.

Large piles of wood lay beside the house, with smaller stacks on the porch. The plot of ground that was to be cultivated next year had been plowed and fenced. Zack estimated it to be a little less than three acres. He would grow vegetables for the table on only a small portion of the land, with the remainder producing corn for the horses.

Last night had been another cold one, and the men had just finished their breakfast of flapjacks and sorghum syrup. Zack stood by the fireplace, a cup of coffee in one hand and the other reaching out to the heat from the fire. “I'm gonna be going into town today, Jolly. I want to get a bigger pot for the stove, and we're damn near out of food.”

“Count me in,” Ross said. “I need a better coat, 'cause I can see that we're in for a rough winter. Need some warmer gloves and something to cover my ears, too.”

Zack returned his empty coffee cup to the kitchen, placing it in a dishpan filled with water. “Bundle up as well as you can, Jolly. Then let's hitch up the team. I want to stop by the hardware store and see if they've got a middle-buster for the corn patch. I can probably buy one cheaper right now than I could next summer, when everybody else is needing one, too.” He covered the fire with ashes and then the men headed for the barn.

They reached Lampasas just before noon and stopped at the livery stable to feed and water the horses. Oscar Land stood by his anvil hammering on a wagon spring. He offered the men his broadest smile. “I can see with one eye that you two make a good team.” He dropped the hot spring into a metal trough filled with water, then laid the hammer aside. “What can I do for you?”

“You can feed and water the horses,” Zack said. “No need to unhitch them from the wagon; we'll be using them again as soon as we make the rounds and buy a few things.”

Land nodded, then spoke to his cousin: “How do you like it out on the river, Jolly?”

Ross answered quickly. “Best job I ever had,” he said, then walked down the street beside Hunter.

Their first stop was the White Horse Saloon. They took seats at the bar and both men ordered whiskey. They were served by Ed Hayes, the same muscular bartender who had been on duty the day Zack fought Jiggs Odom. “Haven't seen you in a while,” the young barkeep said. “Heard about you buying the old Franklin Place. You gonna run cattle on it?”

Zack nodded. “Probably get some next spring,” he said, sipping at his whiskey.

Hayes refilled both men's glasses. “Where's your curly headed friend?” he asked, speaking to Zack. “I believe his name is Rollins.”

“Haven't seen him in more than a month,” Zack answered. “He's not living in this area at the moment.”