Squire's Quest

By

Something hidden. Go and find it.
Go and look behind the
ranges--
Something lost behind the Ranges.
Lost and waiting for you. Go.

Rudyard Kipling:
The Explorer

Uncial Press       Aloha, Oregon
2010

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are
products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.
Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-114-1
ISBN 10: 1-60174-114-6

Squire's Quest: Behind the Ranges Book IX
Copyright ©
2011 by Judith B. Glad

Cover design
Copyright © 2011 by Judith B. Glad

All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work
in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or
hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author or publisher.

Published by Uncial Press,
an imprint of GCT, Inc.

Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com

For years I had someone to act as a sounding board, someone who
would tell me when a story idea was dumb or a plot was trite. Not any
longer. This book is the first one I've written entirely without Neil's
help. Even so, I must dedicate it to him, because he encouraged me to
ignore all the rejection slips, to keep writing, to believe in myself.

And I mustn't forget Star, who keeps telling me to put my writing
first, Kat who catches my grammatical errors, and Chris who keeps
my computer healthy.

Boise City, Idaho Territory
April 1865

"Pa, did you ever go on a quest?"

Emmet Lachlan had been halfway expecting the question. Merlin had said more than
once how much he'd have liked to have adventures like the knights they'd read about last winter.
This boy was more of a dreamer than the others, almost as if he was meant to follow a different
path. He looked over at his son while he considered how to answer.

The lad sat his horse like he was part of it. He was alert to his surroundings, so no man
or critter would find sneaking up on him easy. Although his arms and legs still showed the
gangliness of youth, Merlin had grown a handspan or so in the past year, and he was starting to
put some meat on his bones. He'd never be as tall as Emmet, but he'd likely be big enough to
hogtie a steer or handle a sledge.

"Not really. I mostly did what seemed right at the time."

"But you had adventures." Merlin's eyes took on a dreamy expression, like they
sometimes did when he was listening to the stories. He rode in silence for near a half-mile.

Emmet respected that. Too often folks talked just to hear their heads rattle. He'd rather
listen to the meadowlarks and the sough of the wind in the cottonwoods along the river, and had
taught his children that silence was better than useless noise.

When they reached the river pasture, Merlin dismounted to swing open the wide gate.
Once Emmet was through, he rode it closed, a wide grin in his face. When he was back on his
horse, he said, "You know those stories we read about King Arthur and his Knights of the Round
Table? How they went off questing for adventure?"

"Some of 'em found more than they bargained for, as I recollect."

"Ain't that what adventure is supposed to be? More than you bargained for?" Suddenly
he spurred his horse into a canter. "Hi-yah! Get on out of here, you mangy coyote."

The prairie wolf scampered, not particularly worried by Merlin's pursuit. It slid under
the lowest rail of the fence and ran about fifty feet on before it turned and looked back. Its tongue
hung from the side of its mouth, like it was laughing at them.

Emmet thought about taking a potshot at it, but figured it would be a waste of
ammunition. So far they'd lost no cattle to the small wolves, and he wasn't one to shoot for the
sake of killing. Now if it had been a panther or a timber wolf... But they didn't come down here
much any more, not like in the old days. Too many folks about.

They circled the pasture, both counting the cattle grazing there. The cattle had arrived
just last week, and were still getting used to being out to pasture again. With their long, shaggy
coats, they had caused a bit of comment during the drive from Umatilla, after a long journey by
ship from Scotland. "I get twenty-three," he said when they met at the other side of the pasture.
One short.

"Twenty-four. There's a brindle hiding in the willows."

"No wonder I didn't see it." The older he got, the less able he was to see clearly. Hattie
had been after him to get spectacles, but he'd been putting it off.
I used to be able to pick a
sparrow off a branch at a hundred paces.

They rode the fences and trimmed branches along the trails where the cattle went to
water. The sun was westering when they finished their tasks and turned their horses toward
home, an hour's ride away. "I hired a fellow yesterday, to stay out here for the summer. He's
along in years, but still spry. When I told him about Buff's bathtub, he was plumb tickled. He's
got a touch of rheumatiz in his legs."

"Be a relief not to have to ride out every day," Merlin said, sounding as if his mind had
been a long way off.

"I thought you were going up to Cherry Vale with the others?"

"Well, I'd like to, but with Buff taking off for England, I figured you'd need me
here."

Emmet was so taken aback he pulled his horse to a sudden halt. "Why do you think
that?"

Merlin circled back, so he was facing Emmet. "I'm big enough now to do my share.
Now we're down here, there's lots to do, and without Buff..."

"Buff's going to be around until August. We'll get along. It's not like there's much to do
beyond taking care of the cattle."

"You're sure?" Merlin didn't quite hide the relief in his voice.

"I'm sure. William will need you a lot more up there than I do down here. Remember,
he's going to be working both places now."

After a while, he heard Merlin sigh. "What's on your mind, lad?"

"I think I'd like to go questing someday. When I'm grown."

A chuckle almost escaped him. "Those are old-time stories, son. Nobody goes on quests
anymore."

"Yes they do, Pa. Ain't that what Buff is doin', taking off to England? He goin' on a
quest. He'll find adventure too, I'll bet. When it's my turn, that's what I want to do."

Emmet leaned one arm across his saddle horn and contemplated his second son.

The lad's been thinking about this a lot. I never realized he had a streak of
adventure in him. He's so quiet. Not like Buff. Nothing like me.

Maybe I've been wrong about him.

Boise City, Idaho Territory
September 1869

Merlin shouldered the pitchfork and looked across the hayfield in satisfaction. The last
of the harvest, save Ma's vegetable garden. Not that it was his responsibility any more. Iris and
Rhys were big enough now to know the difference between a carrot and a weed.

It's time.
The thought had been coming to him more and more often, all
summer long. Time to go. Time to break away from his too-hovering mother, his strong and
protective father.

Ma and Pa didn't mean to be that way. They tried to let him stand on his own two feet.
Trouble was, every time they looked at his eyepatch, it reminded them of how close he'd come to
dying. Both of them agreed an eye was a small price to pay to be alive, but knowing something
and believing it were not the same thing.

"Comin'?"

He looked up at Abel, sitting on the wagon seat. "Nope, I think I'll walk home." He
handed the hired man the pitchfork. "Toss down the water bag, will you? Haying's thirsty
work."

"Leave some for me."

Merlin drank until the water sloshed in his innards. Replacing the cork, he tossed the
nearly-empty pouch back. "You'll be there before you die of thirst." He waved at Abel and
started walking, cutting across the field toward the river.

There was something about the sound of running water that helped a fellow sort things
out.

"Wish I knew where to go first."

There were so many places he wanted to see. The Mississippi--he couldn't imagine a
river a whole mile across--the canyon of the Colorado--neither could he conceive of a hole a mile
deep--the ocean. He really wanted to see the ocean, but he'd just as soon do it from a high cliff,
rather than from the deck of a ship.

Pa had told stories of sailing for weeks and never seeing land. The very thought sent
shivers down his spine.

Ma would have a fit when he told her he was leaving. He was too young, she'd say, and
too inexperienced. Pa probably wouldn't say anything, but he'd not like Ma being upset. Neither
of them would mention his eye, but they'd be thinking of it.

He paused, pulled his knife and threw it. It caught the cottonwood leaf he'd aimed at and
pinned it to the tree trunk, five feet beyond. The days and weeks of practice had paid off. He was
better than he'd ever been with a knife, a dead shot with a rifle. The only problem he still had
was not being able to see to his left like he could to his right. So he just turned his head that way
more often.

Ma and Pa still worried about him getting along.

"I've got to go. The longer I put it off, the harder it's going to be. Both for me to make
myself go and for them to let me." He pulled the knife free. "I'll tell them tonight."

The opportunity never arose. Ma had decided it was time for her to be with Katie, whose
first baby was due in a couple of weeks. She spent the evening fussing, making lists and
worrying about leaving her family to fend for themselves. Merlin couldn't remember a time when
Ma wasn't about, and he could see Iris and Rhys were feeling a little scared.

He took them out to the barn to visit the latest litter of kittens. Regina, who was near
thirteen and liking to act all grown up, tagged along. Merlin had a hunch she was feeling a little
bit lost herself.

"Y'know, there's nothing ever stays the same," he said, when each of the others had a
warm, soft kitten to cuddle. "Reggie--"

"Don't you
dare
call me that!" Her glare could have scorched the hide off of
him if she'd been closer.

He grinned. "
Regina
will be going off to school in a couple of years and I'll bet
Ma and Pa will feel just like we do tonight. Kind of like there's going to be a Ma-sized hole in
the family."

"It ain't the same," Iris whispered. "Reggie's just a sister. Ma's... Well, she's
Ma
."

"It's
different
different, too," Rhys said. When they all looked at him curiously,
he said, "When us youngsters go away, we're goin' for good. Ma's just goin' out to Katie's. She'll
come back in a while and stay."

"That's right. So there's no need to fret, is there?" This wasn't the first time Rhys had
come up with just the right thing to say. Merlin had long thought his quiet little brother was a lot
smarter than anybody gave him credit for.

"I'll miss her," Iris said with a quaver in her voice.

Regina didn't quite sniff, but her voice wasn't much steadier when she said, "Me, too.
But while she's gone, I'll be the woman of the house. You can help me cook, Iris. We'll make
cookies and bread pudding and all sorts of good things so Pa won't miss Ma so much."

"Don't like to cook," Iris said. She released the squirming kitten and stuck her thumb in
her mouth.

Now Merlin was really worried. She hadn't done that since she was just a tyke. "Tell you
what. You and me can go hunting. How's that sound?"

"Don't want to kill anything." Her words were distorted by the thumb, but still
understandable.

"Well, then what do you want to do?" Regina demanded. "You can't just sit around and
sulk. That would really upset Pa."

"I want Ma to stay home."

Rhys pulled her hand away from her mouth. "Iris, ain't Katie your sister, same as I'm
your brother?"

Iris nodded, but didn't re-insert her thumb.

"Then she's still Ma's little girl. And she needs her ma right now. Are you begrudging
her?"

A tiny shake of Iris' head.

Merlin clapped both hands onto his knees. "Well, then I guess that's settled. We're going
to get along just fine whilst Ma's out to Katie's. And when she comes home, maybe we can all go
out and see our new niece or nephew."

Iris's eyes opened wide. "I'm gonna be an aunt?"

"Well, sure. You already are, to Ellen's little girl--"

"Never saw them."

"Well, you're still an aunt," Regina told her impatiently. "This'll
make you a two-times aunt." She set her kitten back into the nest the mama cat had made and
stood, brushing straw from her skirts. "Let's go in. I'm getting cold."