Cherokee (4 page)

After that was when they'd trotted out a surveyor and claimed the fence was on their property. They'd advised us of their intentions to tear it down, but a visit from the Matagorda County sheriff, Lew Vara, had convinced them it would be wiser to wait until the issue was finally settled. That Lew was our friend, and perhaps my best friend outside of my brothers, had had nothing to do with the matter. The fence hadn't been proven to be on their property. Then, of course, had come our surveyor, and after that a lawsuit on their part, except the lawsuit sought a little more than just the little strip of land the fence was on. It claimed a much larger chunk of our deeded land than had originally been in question.

But it made no difference about the lawsuit. They couldn't win it whether they were right or wrong, and there really was no telling about right or wrong with some of the rusty old land grants most titles were founded on. We'd win for two reasons. First, and most rightfully, we'd occupied the contested land for forty years. But more importantly, we had a hell of a lot more money than they did and we could keep dragging them through court until they either quit or went broke.

Norris said, “Yes, and young Mister Jordan was not particularly polite. He inferred that there was all sorts of ways to settle disputes and going to law—his phrase—was just one of them. I believe he was implying mischief.”

Ben said, “I believe I might have to give that smart-alecky little bastard a school lesson. Teach him some manners.”

I looked over at him and said sharply, “Ben! You stay the hell away from Shay. And the rest of the Jordans too. You understand me?” Outside of a man named Wilson Young, Ben was as good with a gun as any man I'd ever seen. He was good with horseflesh and handguns. But that's where it stopped. He was hot-tempered, had no judgment, and even at twenty-eight had a hell of a lot of growing up to do. Sometimes it was all I could do to manage him. I said, “The last thing this county needs is for you to start a blood feud.”

He said, “Well, I ain't answering for my actions if he comes talking like that around me.”

I said, “He was talking to Norris.”

The words were no more than out of my mouth when I realized the mistake I'd made. Norris was overly sensitive about his toughness. It wasn't enough for him to be ten times smarter than the rest of us bookwise; he had to be just as tough with his fists or a gun. The minute I said it he straightened up in his chair and looked at me like I'd just slapped him in the face. I said, as quick as I could, “He went to Norris because he is in town and can be got to. And he knows can't no trouble break out in town. To see me or you he'd have to come on our property, and he ain't going to do that.”

I could see it had mollified Norris a bit. I said, “What exactly did he say, Norris?”

My brother shrugged and leaned back in the chair. “Wasn't much that he said. It was more the way he was swelling around and making sure I could see how big the revolver was he was wearing. I told him I thought our lawyers might be close to some sort of an agreement, and he said close didn't count with him except in horseshoes and handguns.”

Ben said, “Shit!”

I smiled. “Why Ben, that sounds exactly like something you'd say.”

He give me a hard look. “You watch your mouth, big brother.”

I said, “Just so long as you remember who the big brother is. And also who the boss is. I'd hate to have to fire you again.”

He colored slightly and took a quick drink of his whiskey. It was true that I had indeed fired my own brother for directly disobeying an order. Of course I couldn't run him off the ranch; that was his home. But I'd taken away his job as boss of the horse herd, along with his salary, and told him if he wanted to work on the ranch he could apply to Harley for a job as a common cowhand and draw a cowhand's wages, sleep in the bunkhouse, and eat with the hired hands.

He'd done it, stiffly and angrily, until it had finally penetrated his thick skull that an outfit can't have but one boss and that that boss ain't got time to explain every order he gave. After that he'd come and apologized and said he'd gotten exactly what he had coming. I'd offered to reinstate him to his position with the herd and the salary that went along with it, but he'd insisted he deserved at least a month of punishment, and he'd stuck it out. There wasn't anything halfway about Ben.

Howard said, “Now don't be bringin' that up again.”

Norris said, “Ben, I wouldn't think you'd want trouble with the Jordans. I saw the daughter on the street the other day. A mighty comely piece of yard goods. How old is she, twenty?”

“Nineteen,” Ben said. Then he blushed again.

I said, “You better stay away from her until this matter is settled.”

He said, “Goddamit, Justa, you want to write out for me in the morning what I can do during the day? Save me a awful lot of thinking.”

I said drily, “You don't sound much like a man who is trying to get on my good side so's I might consider letting you buy some high-priced Thoroughbred breeding stock.”

Norris laughed.

I finished my drink, got up, and set the empty tumbler on the sideboard table. “I got to get home. I can't sit here talking to such as you the balance of the evening.” I glanced over at Howard, but he wasn't looking at me. He was staring off into space thoughtfully.

Norris said, “You've got to tell me soon how many steers you intend to sell off. The market is showing signs of dropping, and unless you want to winter the whole bunch you've got to make a decision fairly soon. There's a new issue of Treasury bills coming out that will pay four and a half percent. You sell a thousand head, that would give me some important capital to work with. It would certainly beat feeding that many cows all winter.”

I said, still thinking about Howard, “I'll tell you tomorrow.”

Before I could get out the door Ben said, “Do I get a yes on those Thoroughbred studs? Five or six would make a big difference in the quality of the horse herd in two or three years.”

“Get me some prices,” I said.

Howard said, a sort of plaintive note in his voice, “You be by tomorrow, son?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I'll stop in.”

I left then, walking home in the soft night. I decided, at least for a while, to forget about Howard and his revelation of being a youthful bandit. Like Nora had said, the old man was getting along. He wasn't just getting hard of hearing; he was getting hard of remembering too. I walked along, looking forward to playing with my son. But I was looking forward even more to playing with his mama a little later on.

I was a simple man; it didn't take much to make me happy, especially if it came in a package of goods like Nora.

I didn't wait until the afternoon to go by and see Howard. Instead I dropped in mid-morning when I knew there was no one else around. I knew Ben was out with the horse herd and of course Norris had gone to his office in town. I wanted to get the business with Howard over with so I could spend the balance of the day surveying the herds with Harley. I had decided to sell all the crossbred steers over the age of four. I knew we'd have plenty of fives, and there ought to be a goodly number of sixes according to my books, and a couple of hundred sevens and some scattered eights. I figured the numbers would run to somewhere around eleven hundred head, and at an average price of ninety dollars a cow, that ought to give Norris some healthy money to buy Treasury bonds with. I had debated about marketing the fours also, which would have been about another thousand head, but I'd decided to hold them back for the spring market in anticipation of a better price. Of course the price could go down just as easily as it could go up. But that was ranching; there wasn't that much difference between it and rolling the dice for a living, except ranching wasn't against the law. That is, so long as you were ranching your own cattle.

I found Howard out on the big front porch taking the sun and having a cup of coffee. Somebody had brought him out his rocking chair and he was sitting there, looking content, looking out over the vast cattle business he'd started and mostly built.

I rode up, dismounted, and dropped my reins on the ground. All our horses ground-reined. If they didn't think they were as securely tied when those reins were hanging on the ground as if they were snubbed to a tree then they were on their way to the auction block. A rider in a hurry didn't have time to hunt up a hitching post when he was working cattle or some such. Ben had strict requirements for a Half-Moon horse, and they either made the grade or got sold to somebody that didn't expect as much out of an animal he might spend most of his day with.

I made my way up on the porch and sat down in a wicker chair next to Howard. I took note that he was wearing his boots, which I took as a good sign that he was not only feeling better, but might be thinking better about his request of the day before. I said, “Well, Howard, it appears you've looked the place over. You going to buy it?”

He was chewing tobacco. He made a futile effort to spit off the porch, and only managed to put a brown splotch on the white railing. He said, “Place looks run-down. Don't know who's been bossing it but it appears they ain't been steady on the job.”

“That the way you see it, huh? Think you could do better?”

“Son, I learnt a long time ago they wasn't nothin' educational about getting kicked twice by the same mule. First time this particular mule kicked me, I found me the first fool I could to go back in the barn and get him harnessed up.”

I lit a cigarillo. “Well, I always wondered what I was. Now I know. Just something for a mule to kick.”

He looked over at me. “You thought anymore on what we talked about?”

I took a moment answering, drawing in a lungful of smoke and then slowly blowing it out. “I've thought enough to know you are going to have to tell me considerable more about this matter before I agree to do anything. I do, however, give you full permission to talk to Norris or Ben. I'll agree to the money. It's the rest of it I've got to know about. They may not be so picky.”

“Justa, I done told you I don't want Ben nor Norris to know about this.”

“Why not?”

He looked kind of pained. Then he said softly, “Because . . . well, because there's some parts to the business that might shame me in their eyes. And it could hurt them.”

“But not me, huh?”

He said slowly, “Yes, the same for you. But you're different, Justa. You're tougher, stronger.” He looked over at me. “Understand, I ain't anxious for you to know this neither. But I'm betwixt the devil and the deep blue sea. This matter has got to be handled an' there ain't no one else. I'd do it if I was able. Comes to it, I might try. Me an' Tom Butterfield.”

“Well, if you want to try it that way it's fine with me.”

He looked over at me.

I said, “But if you want me to do it, especially under them damn silly conditions you set out yesterday, then you are going to have to tell me a hell of a lot more. Last thing I heard out of you was that you stole the money. That has been pretty steady on my mind, as it would yours if I'd told you such a thing. I have one hell of a hard time seeing Howard Williams stealing the sweat off a maverick calf, much less another man's money. You are going to have to tell me the straight of that, Howard. If it shames you, well, then so be it.”

He looked out across the pasturage for a long time, no doubt seeing the herds of cattle in the distance, the herds that had slowly been upgraded from the native, all-bone, horse-killing, man-killing, wild-as-hell Longhorns to the manageable beef cattle we'd crossbred from whiteface and Hereford strains. He must have been looking back a lot of years to how it was when he'd come to this very range some forty years ago. Finally he turned and looked at me. “Is that the way of it?”

I nodded. “Yes. Unless you want to forget the whole matter. I'm sure as hell willing.”

But he shook his head. “No, no, I can't do that. I was pretty down yesterday and I will be again. And one of these days I ain't going to come back up like I done today. I'm just gonna keep on going down until I'm six foot under. And I don't want that dirt to hit me in the face with this misdeed on my conscience.”

“All right. I'm listening.”

He squinted his eyes and looked far off again, like he was still going back, and not just in his mind. “Ya'll never heard me speak much about Charlie Stevens, did you? About the early days, I mean.”

“Never heard you speak about him at all. Mainly just about Buttercup. May have been one or two others you mentioned, but it seemed like it was just you and Buttercup got the start on the place.”

“Well it was Tom Butterfield and me on the one start. But what I never told you boys was there was two starts made on this ranch. Tom helped me on the second one, but as a hired hand. Of course you know that's why I keep him on around here as our cook. Even if he can't cook. But he's a proud man. Won't take wages without doing a day's work.”

“We ain't talking about Buttercup, we're talking about this here Charlie Stevens.” I could see he was reluctant to come to his subject and had gone off on a false lead. “You said something about there was two starts on this place.”

He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “Me an' Charlie grew up together in Georgia. Course I guess you knew our family started out in Georgia.”

“I knew
you
did, but this is the first time I've heard you mention it with this Charlie Stevens.”

“Well we did, him and me.” He said it kind of defiantly. “Was good friends, damn good friends. That's how come it was us come West together looking for a new range, new opportunities. We'd heard all the stories about Texas and about the Oklahoma Territory and we figured that was the place to head for. I reckon that was in about 1851, '52. We was both just young bucks, barely reached our majority. Couldn't been more than twenty-one. I think Charlie might have been a year older'n me though not quite. Big good-lookin' fella. Good in a fight, good with horses. Good man to partner up with. Had an even temper, laughed a lot. I remember him bein' mighty popular with the young ladies back in Georgia. Easygoing feller. Didn't care much for arguing, though he'd back his partner in a fight.”

He spit tobacco juice again and this time cleared the rail. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Anyways, we set out and ended up in the Indian Territory to start with. That's what they called Oklahoma then. Set out to catch on with some cattle outfit and learn the business and then set up on our own. Was plenty of land, though it wasn't shucks to what we got around here. There was plenty of water, but the dirt was poor, wouldn't grow grass like it did here. But anyways, we got in with some small outfit, can't remember the brand. Mostly what they was doin' was mavericking, and it didn't take no scholar to see wasn't much point on puttin' another man's brand on an ownerless calf when you could just as easy put your own on it. But we was drawin' wages and the outfit was providing the horses, so we played it straight. Was a good bit of Injuns around. Cherokees. Hell, they'd been moved from Georgia their own self. Army moved 'em an' put 'em on a reservation. They didn't much care for it, but they was a good people, nothin' like them murderin' goddam Comanches we had down here. And they was a handsome people. Some of the women . . .”

He stopped and didn't say anything for a moment.

I said, “What was you saying?”

He cleared his throat. “This talkin' is mighty hard work.”

“And you figure a little drink would make it go easier?”

“Well, it is going on for noon.”

I got up. “Hell, Howard, it ain't even eleven o'clock. But if it'll speed you up I'll bring you a short one. But it'll be watered.”

“Now, Justa,” he said, but I was already going in the house.

I brought him back his drink. I'd been a little more generous with the whiskey than I'd meant to be, forgetting for a second who it was for, and he smiled his appreciation as he took a sip. I said, “You was talking about the Cherokee women.”

I thought I saw a little flinch come over his face. But he said, “Just in passin'. They was a handsome people, and as civilized as some white folks and more so than others. But that ain't got nothin' to do with what I was talkin' about. Where was I?”

“You and Charlie Stevens was branding mavericks for some small outfit.”

“Yeah. Well, we done that about a year and right quick seen we wasn't getting nowhere. And I could see the country wasn't going to amount to much neither. Like I said, there was plenty of free land, but it was poor. You couldn't run one cow over at least twenty acres. ‘Bout that time we'd commenced to hear about this country in the Gulf Coast. This here country we're settin' in right now. We heard it was belly-deep to a tall cow in grass, and plenty of water and mustangs and wild Longhorns and land for the asking. So we drawed what wages we had coming, throwed in together, and bought us an outfit, then headed this way with four good horses and plenty of powder and shot and damn little money left over. But we figured we'd eat. We'd heard there was plenty of game and anything you stuck in the ground would grow. Heard there was miles and miles of open country with nary a soul to bother you. Well, we was damn fool kids or that would have told us something right there. If the country was so wonderful, how come it wasn't full of people? We'd heard about the Comanches and that they was supposed to be powerful bad, but we'd been around the Cherokees and we didn't figure the Comanches could be that much worse. We'd also heard a little about Mexican
banditos,
but we wasn't scared of the devil himself, so what was a few outlaws?

“So on we come. Full of piss and vinegar and already figuring out how we was going to spend all the money we was gonna make. Took us about a week to figure out we'd cut ourselves out a job of work. Took about a month to come to the conclusion we might have made a mistake. And that month was mostly spent building a dugout cabin. I can damn near see the little knoll we cut it into from here. Yonder, just beyond that far windmill. Course there wasn't no windmills in them days. But if you'd of seen that dugout—wasn't no more than eight feet across in any direction—you'd of asked what we was doing the rest of the time because we couldn't have spent no more than a day and a half building such a shelter. But a month was what it took. Nearest timber of any size was four miles away on Caney Creek, and that was just willow and cottonwood. Reason we couldn't make it no bigger'n eight feet in any direction was we couldn't get no saplings or small logs that was longer than that in a straight line. And of course, we'd dug it into the side of that hump so we could use the earth for most of the walls. Except the earth was so damn wet it just oozed. So after that we had to go six miles to find clay on upper Caney Creek, and haul that back and stick the clay to the walls over a patchwork of branches. Then we had to build a damn fire in the damn dugout and harden the clay. Well, anytime it takes you a month just to build a temporary camp, you can bet you ain't getting no work done that would put a dime in your pocket.”

“What about the cattle?”

He cut his eyes around at me. “Cattle? More like wild animals you be talkin' about. You remember—ten years ago, I guess, maybe more—when you started talking to me about bringing in some of them little gentle northern cattle to try and calm these Longhorns down and fatten 'em up? I remember you saying killing two horses to bring in one cow wasn't good business. Well, them Longhorns you was talking about was as tame as kittens next to them brutes me and Charlie was tryin' to gather. An' we didn't have but two horses apiece, an' them worn to a frazzle a week after we started trying to gather cattle.”

I was getting a little impatient. “All right, I'm real interested in this pioneer business, not like I ain't heard it a dozen times before. But what has it got to do with what you want me to do and why?”

“Wa'l, damnit, just have a little patience, can't you? I'm tryin' to make the point that Charlie had damn good reason to pull out. I didn't think it at the time. I thought he was runnin' out on me. An' it was that attitude that caused me to think it was all right what I did. Of course lookin' back, I can see that Charlie done the right thing, an' that if I'd of had a lick of sense an' hadn't been as stubborn as a mule I'd a gone with him.”