The Red River Ring (8 page)

Chapter XI

Reese stepped from the ranch house to watch the riders coming into the yard. He was surprised that Temple was riding with only one man and wondered if the others had been told to stay with the herd.

Cap Morgan followed Reese out of the door. When he recognized Pommel, he stepped back into the kitchen to fetch his old revolver and holster from a cabinet. He strapped it on and returned to the porch without Reese noticing.

Pac led his horse from the barn and glared as Temple and Pommel rode past. He slipped his gun hammer loop and checked his Colt to see that he would flow cleanly from the holster before leading his pinto to the house.

Reese nodded toward the strangely familiar rider and smiled at Temple. “Where are the boys? You have them stay on the range?”

“Waco, Arch, Josh and Kroger are dead. Rustlers hit them four days ago,” Temple said as he swung down from his saddle.

Reese stepped down and took a seat on the porch steps. “Lord, I can't believe it. Killed them?”

Pommel cut his eyes to Cap Morgan and nodded recognition before stepping to the ground. Cap smiled knowingly and nodded back.

“What's going on?” Pac asked as he led his horse to the hitching rail.

“Rustlers killed the boys gathering the north herd,” Reese answered.

“Let's get after them,” Pac said.

“Already have. We caught them just north of the Red and settled up with them,” Temple said as he stepped by Reese, patting him on the shoulder.

“How many were there?” Pac asked.

“Five. We got them all,” Temple answered.

Pac eyed Pommel sharply. “You help him with this?”

“Yep, I went along for the ride.”

“You just happen to be around?”

“I was riding with Temple when we found your riders.”

Pac looked confused. His hand tensed over his revolver.

“I wouldn't be in a big hurry to shoot him,” Temple said. “He's going to help us drive those steers to market.”

“Why would Pac want to shoot this hombre?” Reese asked.

“I met this feller once before. We had words,” Pac said sullenly.

“You got a name?” Reese smiled. “My brother doesn't seem to like to make introductions these days.”

“For now, just call me Bob,” Pommel said as he shook Reese's hand.

“Bob, huh. Well, Bob with no last name and only Bob for now, I'm Reese McMurphy. I'm the handsome brother of these other two. I take it you know Pac.”

“Yeah, I know Pac. Nice to see you again,” Pommel said shaking Pac's hand.

“Yeah, right, I guess,” Pac stammered sullenly.

“I can tell you're excited to meet him,” Reese said to Pac before turning to Pommel. “I appreciate you lending a hand. I'd hate to see ole Temple get blown away chasing rustlers alone.”

“Let's step into the house. We got some planning to do,” Temple said.

Reese and Pac followed Temple through the door. Cap Morgan waited for Pommel as he climbed the steps.

“You know what you're doing?” Cap asked after he was sure the brothers were out of earshot.

“It was Mary's idea. Good to see you again, Cap,” Pommel answered quietly.

Cap nodded and smiled. “It's been a while. This ought to prove to be a right interesting day.”

“Sure enough,” Pommel smiled as he stepped through the door.

“It was the Ring again. All the rustlers were riding Quick 5 brands,” Temple said as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“I'm going to miss those boys. Waco has been with the outfit for quite a spell. Josh and I were planning a hunting trip. Hell, they was all good boys,” Reese said as he sat at the kitchen table.

“Did you recognize any of the rustlers?” Pac asked.

“Two gents named Calhoun and Sloan, Cold Deck Johnny Clancy, Ace Sloan and some other fellow with blond hair,” Pommel answered studying Pac's reaction.

“You a Ranger or something?” Pac asked. “How the hell do you know those guys?”

“I been around,” Pommel said as he accepted a cup of coffee from Temple.

“Bob's an old hand in these parts,” Cap said as he stepped by Pac toward the kitchen stove. “You boys are probably hungry. I'll fire something up.”

“How come I ain't never seen or heard of him?” Pac asked.

“You know every hombre in West Texas?” Reese asked mockingly.

“Shove it!” Pac said.

“Sit down,” Temple said to Pac. “We need to plan. I don't need to hear you two go after each other.”

“It seems funny to me that this guy just shows up all of a sudden and everybody seems to know who he is. I heard you jawing with him on the porch, Cap,” Pac said.

Cap nodded and rolled his eyes.

“I asked him to come,” Temple said. “Bob's an old trail boss and I want a professional to help us get the herd through.”

“I could have handled that,” Pac said.

“Yeah, between visits to Jesse Pearson's daughter,” Reese said.

“Screw you!”

“Drop it, Reese. We need to talk,” Temple said. “I figure we've got a good seven hundred steers ready to go in the north and west herds. I want to run a swing and put together a herd to go out this week.”

“We seem to be a little shorthanded all of a sudden,” Reese said.

“I might be able to come up with some cowboys for the drive but it'll be a week before they can get here,” Pommel said. “I'll have to get to a telegraph.”

“Your cowboys?” Pac laughed. “How do we know we can trust them?”

Pommel eyed Pac harshly. “We never know who we can trust for sure.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Pac answered.

“You boys ought to get on just fine,” Reese said. “ If you don't mind, I won't plan the engagement announcements just yet.”

“We may have to use some of your teamsters until drovers can get in,” Temple said.

“Those guys will make pitiful cowboys,” Pac said.

“Ought to fit right in this outfit,” Reese said.

Pommel smiled and thought it was no wonder Reese and Pac were always at odds. Pac seemed to have a chip on his shoulder about every issue and Reese just loved knocking it off.

“The other measure I want to take is to bring the women and girls together until we get through some of this rough stuff. I even thought of sending them to Brownswood,” Temple said.

“I'd rather see them together in town,” Reese said. “Surely John and Fritz can keep an eye on them.”

Pommel wanted to speak. He had suspicions regarding Fritz and didn't think that John Fellows sounded like a fellow to resort to if gunplay developed. He chose to listen quietly and see what Temple decided.

“That might work, I guess,” Temple said. “Fritz doesn't move very well anymore and I doubt that John is much with a gun.”

“Maybe they'd be better off here,” Cap Morgan said.

“Right, Cap. That way they could join the bucket brigade when the Ring burns this place to the ground,” Reese said.

“I know Mom wouldn't mind if the girls and Sarah stayed with her. Fritz might be able to find someone to help out,” Temple said.

“What about one of you? Surely it won't take all of us to bring in a herd,” Pommel finally said.

“What about you, Reese?” Temple said. “It might be best.”

Reese nodded. “I guess I could do that but I figured you would need me out here.”

“If I was sure of their safety, I know I could get a lot more done,” Temple said.

“What about me?” Pac asked.

“I want you to ride with me,” Pommel said. “You seem to be a gun hand and a fair rider from what I've seen.”

Pac was impressed. Pommel had given just the reasons that he wanted to hear for staying on the ranch. Still, Pac couldn't just agree with anything. “I'm nobody's flunky,” he said. “Nobody tells me what to do.”

Pommel nodded. He didn't want another argument. It crossed his mind that it was no wonder Temple was so careful about how he handled his little brother.

“You are the best rider, Pac. I think Bob wanted you to do some scouting and outrider work,” Temple said.

“Is that want you wanted?” Pac asked.

“Yes, sir. It sure is. It might be best if we had a good man doing the outriding,” Pommel said.

Pac thought of Sulky Pearson. It would be a way to see her for an evening. “I could do that,” he said.

“I want the cattle gathered in Pine Canyon. There's plenty of water and good cover. It would only be about five miles farther for the west herd but we could keep a good eye on stock there and cowboys could guard them from the canyon rim,” Temple said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Reese said. “I'll get home tonight and send the teamsters out tomorrow.”

“I'll ride in with Reese and telegraph some of my riders,” Pommel said.

“Pac, Bob and I'll start rounding up the hands and start the cattle in. If you could send your men to Twenty Mile Oak, I'll have Cap meet them there with the chuck wagon,” Temple said to Reese.

“Good enough,” Reese nodded.

“And, have everyone bring their rifles. We might need a lot of firepower and short guns won't cut it on the open,” Pommel said.

“I don't much fancy using a long gun. I do just fine with my Colt,” Pac said.

“Yeah,” Pommel said wryly. “I know, don't I?”

Pac swelled with anger. “I could blow a hole through you before you could clear that table, gent,” he said sullenly.

Pommel smiled coldly. “Maybe, maybe not. But on the mesa with no rifle, a fellow like you could be in for a long walk.”

Reese laughed loudly. “He can't even take a shit without losing his horse.”

“You could be second,” Pac slurred.

Reese nodded, trying to control his own anger. “Don't try it, Little Brother. You might be in for a hell of a shock.”

“You need to get going, Reese,” Temple said. “Bob, do you think you could get to town and back tonight?”

“I'd like to wait on a reply from my telegraph before coming back,” Pommel said.

“Good enough. How are we fixed for grub?” Temple asked Cap.

“I could use some flour and another sack of beans,” Cap Morgan answered.

“Will you see to that before you come back?” Temple asked Pommel.

“What about coffee? I sure want plenty of coffee,” Pommel asked.

“Get five pounds,” Cap said with a wink.

“There you go. Five pounds it is,” Pommel said.

As the group broke up Temple followed Pommel to his horse.

“You think you can handle Pac without shooting him?” Temple asked.

“Pac and I will get along just fine,” Pommel answered. “I'd rather have him out there in the open than cooped up in some house in town.”

“He's hard to handle,” Temple warned.

“So am I,” Pommel said. “You ready, Reese?”

“Sure,” Reese said as he slipped his carbine from his scabbard. “Give this to Pac. I'll get another in town.”

Temple smiled. “Thanks Reese. Be careful.”

“Don't worry about me. All I got to worry about is who's going to wash the tea cups.”

As Pommel swung into his saddle, Reese noticed the revolving carbine in the scabbard and the long Winchester slung across the saddle horn.

“Geeze, you're well heeled enough,” he said as they pulled their mounts back from the hitching rail.

“I just bought the rifle,” Pommel answered.

Reese eyed the Winchester. “Wasn't that a little pricey for cowhand wages?”

“If I was just a cowhand, I wouldn't be here.”

“You ain't a professional gunman?”

“No, I'm no professional. I have a ranch near Dallas.”

“Ain't you got better things to do than ride around West Texas, getting in the middle of a full blown range war?”

“I was brought in by Blomberg and your mother.”

“Shit. This family. I sometimes wonder how we keep things straight with so many chiefs and so few Indians.”

Pommel smiled and nodded.

“Say, I seem to know you from somewhere. Have we ever met before?”

“I've known your mother and Blomberg for years.”

“Really, I don't remember no Bob-For-Now ever being mentioned.”

Pommel smiled. “Business matters more than socially.”

“They must know something about you or they wouldn't have got you into this mess.”

“I guess so.”

“You're a talker, ain't you? Well, it's good to meet you Bob-For-Now. I'm glad my brother is getting some help. He's got the weight of the world on his shoulders just now.”

“He always has, hasn't he?”

Reese bent over his saddle horn and smiled. “Yeah, I guess he has. Since Pa died, he's always been in charge in one way or another. I figure it was probably lonely for him when he was younger.”

“Yeah, that's the way of it, I guess,” Pommel said as he spurred his horse forward.

Chapter XII

When they reached Silverton, Reese went to gather his family and Pommel made straight for the telegraph office at the railroad station. As Pommel entered the room another man, well dressed, small build, white headed and wearing spectacles was being served. The telegrapher, another small, older man with a French goatee nodded to Pommel.

“I'll be with you shortly,” the telegrapher said.

“I need you to get this off as soon as possible,” the customer said.

“Sure, Mr. Fellows, I'll get right on it.”

Pommel's attention perked. He stepped to an angle from Fellows and leaned against the wall in an effort to see what he looked like. It was an odd position and Fellows noticed that Pommel was watching him.

“Can I help you?” Fellows asked nervously.

“No, I'm just waiting. I had a long ride getting in here,” Pommel answered as he studies Fellows' appearance.

Fellows was intimidated by Pommel's six foot four-inch height and bulk. He stepped back uncomfortably as Pommel spoke.

“Well, I need to be going,” Fellows said to Pommel, nervously fidgeting with a small blue stone stick pin in his tie. Turning to the telegrapher he said, “If you could get that out as soon as possible I'd appreciate it. It's rather urgent.”

“Get right on it, Mr. Fellows,” the telegrapher said.

“Yes, well, thank you. Hope you have a good day, sir,” Fellows said before walking out the door.

“Yeah, right. You have a good day,” Pommel said.

“Can I help you?” the telegrapher asked.

“Yes. Yes, you can. I need to send a telegraph to Dallas, Texas. Address it to Sam Ketchum, Coffin Nail Ranch, Plano.”

Pommel broke off his message and stepped to the door to watch Fellows cross the street.

“And your message, sir?”

“You know that gent very well?” Pommel asked.

“Mr. Fellows? Yes. He's a prominent businessman in Silverton.”

“He don't seem a little odd to you?”

“Odd? How?”

“Oh, I don't know. A little girlish?”

“I realize, sir, that Mr. Fellows is a small man, but I'd hardly call him girlish. He is married to one of the most influential women in Silverton.”

“Yeah, but look how he walks. He takes such tiny steps that he looks like his shoes are too small and I swear to God, his knees must rub sores on each other.”

“Your message, sir?” the telegrapher asked impatiently.

“What's he do?”

“Mr. Fellows is an accountant for Fritz Blomberg as well as owning rental and business property in Silverton.”

“An accountant, huh? Works with numbers and books and such?”

“Your message, Sir?”

“Yeah, Let's see. Get together five or six good cowboys and get on the train for Silverton as quick as possible. Bring saddles and rifles. Tell Elaina to give you the money for tickets and food. Expect gunplay. We're driving a herd.”

“That's quite a message.”

“Do you suppose he hurt his back at one time or another?”

“Who?”

“That Fellows character. I mean he don't even stand up straight.”

“I wouldn't know.”

“Why would she marry something like that? She sure wasn't interested in getting herself a man.”

“Sir, I must complain about your comments. John Fellows is a friend of mine.”

Pommel turned and examined the telegrapher. “Figures,” he said and walked out the door.

As Pommel stepped to his horse he heard a voice from the past.

“I wondered if I'd ever see you. How are you, Pommel?” Fritz Blomberg asked.

Pommel smiled but was startled by Blomberg's appearance. He was nowhere near the man of twenty years before. He was an old man, overweight, hobbling on two canes. “How are you, Fritz?”

“As good as can be expected. I'm getting old and my knees are no good.”

“Well, we all get old.”

“I just talked to Reese. It sounds like they've had quite a bit of trouble out there.”

“Yeah, it's a damned shame we can't have any law. Who's the sheriff in this county?”

“Sheriff Smith is a good man. He needs proof to prosecute.”

“You suppose he'll find it sitting on his ass in the courthouse? Why hasn't he called in the Texas Rangers?”

Blomberg hobbled to a bench in front of the station and carefully sat. “The Rangers haven't been brought into this affair. I don't want Austin meddling with county business.”

“What you got to hide, Fritz?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“The hell you don't. Back in the old days, we'd a had a passle of Rangers up here and smoked out that pack of maggots in Pampa for a hell of a lot less than what they've pulled up to now.”

“Cooler heads prevail, nowadays.”

“Is that what they call it? Cooler heads?”

“These are dangerous, powerful men we are dealing with. Some say that Colredge is a personal friend of Governor Beals. It isn't wise to buck the tiger just yet.”

“And when is it right? After they've burned the place to the ground and killed the whole bunch?”

“I doubt that it is that serious.”

“Tell that to those four cowboys we rocked under near Solo Mesa.”

“I heard you took the law into your own hands. I think Sheriff Smith is going to want to investigate the entire affair.”

“If he tries real hard, he might be able to see Twenty Mile Oak from his court house window, that is if he can manage to lift his ass out of his chair. Maybe he can investigate that.”

“Pommel, you really don't have an interest in this. Mary overreacted to the situation when she wrote you. If everyone would just cool down, I'm sure we can wait for the Ring to go one step too far and be prosecuted. Let the law take its course.”

Pommel smiled and shook his head. “Isn't it funny how the law is always drug up after it's too late to defend yourself. People like you, Fritz, with power to do something about this, sitting back and waiting for some magic potion to solve your problems. In the meantime, people are dying while you wait until the law can make a case. Why is that?”

“Because it's 1887, that's why. The days of men like you riding off exercising your personal vendettas, stringing up folks you think are thieves, and the Rangers gunning down suspects without a trial are at an end. Texas is changing Pommel and you've got to change with it.”

“Is that so? We'll see about that Fritz. The law works both ways. When the law can't or won't protect folks, the law loses.”

“You've got to give it time to work. That's all I'm asking.”

“I've been here less than a week, Fritz. So, far I've seen nine men dead and the law hasn't even asked who they are.”

“And you ride into a town and threaten men with their lives if they cross some line that you've drawn in the dust,” Blomberg shook with anger as he spoke.

Pommel smiled and took a threatening step towards Blomberg. “And, how did you know that, Fritz?”

“What?”

“Who told you that I paid a visit to Colredge?”

“Mary told me you were riding to Pampa.”

“But, how did you know what I said? I haven't told Mary or anyone else.”

“I just took it for granted. I know you.”

Pommel took another step. Blomberg sat back on the bench and closed his grip on his canes.

“I'll tell you what, Fritz. If even one of those boys including Pac takes a bullet, I'm coming after you. I don't care how crippled up you are, or how old, or how rich. The day that one of those boys takes a bullet, you die. Tell that to Colredge, Black Tom, Sheriff Smith or Governor Beals. It don't matter.”

“I could see you in prison for that,” Blomberg said.

“Try it.”

Blomberg sat stiffly without responding. Pommel smiled coldly and untied his horse's reins from the hitch rail. He led the stud up the street toward Blomberg's General Store.

Reese met him as he approached the store.

“Sarah is moving the girls into my mother's house. I'll wait there with them until I've been told different. My teamsters aren't very happy about earning cowboy wages but they'll leave for the ranch in the morning. Is there anything else?”

“I expect four or five cowboys will be arriving by train in a couple of days. Watch for them. They will be led by a tall, thin black cowboy named Sam Ketchum. You'll know him right off. He wears a turned up plains style hat, usually wears a purple silk bandana, and he's the color of axle grease. I'll have horses for them here by the time they arrive. Send them straight out to the ranch.”

“I can supply the horses here. Don't worry about that. My mother says she wants to talk to you before you head back to the ranch.”

“What does she want?”

“She just says she needs to talk to you.”

“Can you get those supplies and see that they're waiting when I return?”

“Sure thing,” Reese answered as Pommel swung into the saddle.

Mary was sitting in her porch swing when Pommel came into view. She was at the yard fence by the time he reached the front gate.

“You wanted to see me?” Pommel asked.

“We've got a lot to talk about. One of Sarah's girls overheard our conservation. Sarah knows who you are and thinks Reese should know.”

“You do whatever. I'm getting along fine with him the way things are,” Pommel said without dismounting.

“What is going on? It sounds like everything's gone bad.”

“It's going to get rough. We thought that you and Reese's family needed protection.”

“What else can we do?”

“Watch what you say to Fritz Blomberg. I don't think you can trust him.”

“Fritz Blomberg has been my friend for close to thirty years. What gives you the right to say such a thing?”

“The Rangers should have been called into this long ago. Fritz has blocked it from the beginning. Somehow he knew what I said to Nab Colredge when I was in Pampa. Hell, the Ring knows what we're planning almost before we do. Who else could be supplying them with information?”

“I don't believe it.”

“Watch what you say to him.”

She shook her head sullenly and gazed down the street. “I should have never wrote you. All you're doing is making things worse.”

“I've got to go,” Pommel said as he turned his horse away.

“Watch out for Temple and Pac,” she said softly.

“I will. But, I can't be everywhere.”

She watched him ride away.

“You've never been anywhere you were really needed,” she said to herself.