Holding Their Own: The Salt War (29 page)

Often, they were lucky just to spend time together, a welcome escape from the grueling work and everyday companionship of older, gruffer men. On those occasions, an occasional chess match would break out, both young men learning the game in the bunkhouses of their respective spreads.

Time, marriage, and the responsibility of taking over their outfits had come between the two old compadres. With the chess set tucked under his arm, Culpepper had diverted from his standard route home, surprising his friend with the Christmas gift, and spending the afternoon slacking off and retelling exaggerated stories and outright lies.

He’d left that day, both men promising to stay in touch and carve out some time to rekindle the friendship. But it hadn’t happened. Business, the everyday struggles of making ends meet, and then the collapse had gotten in the way.

When the range war had started to go against them, Culpepper had reached out to his old friend for help. He was short on everything from manpower to ammunition. Ward had responded the best he could, sending over a truckload of supplies and five of his toughest hands.

Two weeks ago, the first messenger had ridden up, delivering a handwritten note on 888 stationery. “I’m going into Alpha next week,” it read. “I’m not sure what I’ll find, but I keep hearing rumors that things have gotten better there. I’ll try to secure supplies and spread the word that you’re recruiting hardy men who aren’t afraid to use a rifle. I’ll be in touch upon my return. Ward.”

Anticipation wasn’t a feeling Sam Culpepper experienced much these days, but when word came that Ward had returned and wanted to meet, he’d felt a flush of optimism. He needed help, or they were going to lose this fight.

The whinny of a horse announced the arrival of the 888 riders. Culpepper was happy to see his old friend leading the small party of men. The appearance of four pack animals, each burdened with rope-secured supplies, made the long ride even more worthwhile.

Ward rode up to the fence line, extending his hand over the wire. After the warm handshake, he said, “Sam, I’m glad to see those Tejanos haven’t managed to nail your hide on the barn door… yet.”

The two old ranchers shared a good chuckle over the jest, and then Ward got right down to business.

“Yet again, the world has changed on us, Sam,” the triple-8 honcho began. “I couldn’t believe what I found in Alpha.”

“You don’t say? Has the anarchy and bedlam spread, or is everyone dead and gone?”

“No, quite the opposite. There’s a recovery in process, and I like the look of it.”

Ward went on to recount his visit, informing his old friend of the Alliance, businesses being reopened and electrical power prevalently in use. Culpepper was initially stunned, but as their conversation wore on, he realized he shouldn’t have been surprised.

“You know, I’ve got some visitors staying out at my place. They’ve made a few comments that struck me as odd, and they seem to be in one big damned hurry to get back to Meraton. Now that I’ve heard your story, I can understand why.”

“I met with the lady who runs the show in Alpha. Her name is Diana Brown. I told her what was going on with the Salt War and the battle you are waging. She informed me you need to get in touch with another gal, the big boss of the whole outfit. She claims that this female honcho is in charge of the military and what law enforcement they’ve managed to scrape together. Went on to brag about how this Terri woman was a skillful diplomat and negotiator.”

The light of realization flashed through Culpepper’s brain, Terri’s outburst about tanks and soldiers resurfacing again. “Did you say her name was Terri?”

Ward nodded, “Sure did. I tried to hook up with her while I was in town, but she is supposed to be on the road with her husband and child. They expect them to be back in Alpha any day now.”

Culpepper didn’t respond for a moment, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. Finally, “Did you happen to catch the husband’s name by any chance?”

“Burt… no Bishop. That was it, Bishop. According to rumor, he’s not a man to be trifled with, but a fair-minded individual nonetheless.”

“Well, I’ll be horn-swagged and dipped in chocolate. It all makes sense now.”

“What? What’s wrong, Sam?”

“Bishop and Terri are at my ranch right now, my old friend. Their truck got shot out from underneath them by the Tejanos, and they found their way to my place.”

Ward grunted, “You don’t say. Now there’s a good turn of events for you Sam. It’s not every day dignitaries and powerful people drop in from the sky. What are you doing sitting out here, swapping words with an old fool like me? You should be back there kissing their asses and making nice.”

Sam had a good laugh at his friend's perspective. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“I brought you back 100 pounds of flour, two bottles of some near-deadly moonshine whiskey, and as much ammo as I could scrape up. I’ll send you the bill for all that and the horses, too.”

Again the two men shook hands. “Ward, you’re a good friend. I won’t forget this.”

“Before you go, I can’t help but give you a word of advice. Things are getting back to the way they were. End this damn war you’re fighting, Sam. Life’s too short - the trail too rough. Get out of the business of killing and put things back where you can come over and spend a little time playing chess. I’ve not had the pleasure of kicking your ass in years, and it tasks me.”

Culpepper stared down at the ground and then smiled at his neighbor. “Sage advice, I’m sure, Ward. But we both know it’s not that simple.”

“Yes, I know. Things are rarely clear cut. But you know me, Sam. I’ve never been shy about telling another man how he should run his affairs. Still, by my way of thinking, I’m right more than I am wrong. Mull my words over, old friend. I think you’ll land on the exact same spot that I’m preaching from.”

Bishop thought it best that they rest more during the day while it was hot. While shade wasn’t an amenity, it seemed to help Terri and Hunter to take a break from riding every hour or so, consuming as much water as possible and stretching their legs. Hunter was happy being free of the papoose.

While it slowed their progress significantly, the Texan decided it was a much easier schedule for his family to tolerate.

During one of their “walk abouts,” Terri returned the conversation to her favorite topic as of late, how to deal with the Salt War.

“So if you had to pick one side or the other for the Alliance to support, which would it be?” she queried.

“I would go with the Tejanos,” he replied instantly. “The vast majority of people in the villages are simple, honest souls who only want to improve their life. Since the collapse, the border means nothing anymore. Why not add more self-reliant individuals to our fold?”

Terri laughed, enjoying the conversation with her favorite man in the world. “I would choose Culpepper,” she countered. “His folks are a textbook example of the American spirit, tough men making the best on a harsh and often unforgiving land. Everything about the Culpepper operation screams free enterprise and determination. Those are the type of people that will make the Alliance stronger in the long run.”

“Why not make both of them allies? Why does it have to be one or the other?”

Tilting her head as if contemplating his suggestion for the first time, Terri responded, “I thought about that, but then what would keep them from escalating their conflict? Working with the Alliance would make both wealthier and more powerful, and that could lead to a hotter war and spill over into our interests.”

Bishop understood, but he wasn’t ready to give up on brokering peace. “If I were in your shoes, I’d make the two leaders sit in a tent and lay it out to them. Either behave and play well with others, or the Alliance will isolate you and let you wither in the fires of war. At least give them a chance to stop this incessant bickering.”

Terri didn’t comment at first, Bishop’s watch indicating it was time for them to mount up and ride for an hour. After she was back in the saddle, she said, “That’s not a bad idea, Bishop. Let me mull that around for a while. After all, there isn’t much else to do right now.”

“I can’t believe this!” Mr. Culpepper screamed at his men. “I go away for a few hours, and when I come back, you’ve let them go. What on God’s green earth is wrong with you people?”

Reed and Whitey had seen the boss’s temper before, both men knowing that Mr. Culpepper really didn’t want anyone to answer the rhetorical question.

After stomping around for a bit, the honcho sternly peered at Reed and demanded, “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t know, sir. No one told me Bishop and Terri were prohibited from leaving. He came in, said they wanted to leave, and asked for two horses. He’d stated that was his plan while we were riding back from the Tejanos’ village. It seemed righteous enough.”

Mr. Culpepper didn’t like the answer but knew it was honest.

The old rancher paced some more, grumbling and cursing under his breath. His next orders shocked both of the men standing before him. “Get 25 men ready; we’re going after them.”

“What? Sir?” Whitey spoke up. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to split our forces when the Tejanos have been so active lately?”

But Samuel Culpepper wasn’t in the mood to debate the issue. “Do what I said, Whitey, and make sure they’ve got plenty of ammo.”

“Yes, sir.”

The boss started to turn away, but then stopped. “Oh, and Whitey, I’m going with you. I’ll need a fresh horse.”

The two stunned cowhands stood and watched their boss amble off. “What the hell is going on?” Reed muttered, puzzled by the strange behavior.

“Beats me,” the second in command replied. “That Terri-woman we brought in had messed with the boss’s mind somehow. He’s not been the same since she landed on our doorstep.”

“Her husband seemed like a fair enough man. Do you think they’re trying to hurt the outfit in some way?”

“No way of telling. What I do know is that we’ve got to put together a war party. Are you feeling up to a ride?”

Reed nodded eagerly. “Get me out of that damn bunkhouse, Mr. Foreman. I’ll go loco from boredom if I have to stay in there much longer. Besides, I’d like a chance at mending fences with Mr. Culpepper.”

“Get your saddlebags packed. I’ll put you on the list.”

Bishop noticed the dust cloud behind them an hour before dusk. Trying to remain optimistic, he’d pined for the disturbance to be nothing more than a dirt devil or robust current of air lifting sand from the desert floor. But those justifications faded quickly - this problem wasn’t going away.