Chapter 14 #2
“Here we was in a gunfight and the cattle running. I killed two of the gunners above us, and Bass here got the one that shot him, but then they was gone. And we had nothing but dust and blood and the dead.” Duke shook his head.
“I followed them for a few miles. But there was nothing I could do against all of them. I think they planned to run them critters till nightfall.”
He stopped, staring fiercely at the wall across from him.
“So you went back for your men,” Caleb prompted.
Ortiz nodded. “There was only three of us left. They even killed my cook in the mess wagon as they rode by him. A good old man who served my father before me. I knew him from the time I was knee-high to a jackrabbit.”
Bass spoke up. “That old fella could cuss up a storm, but he wouldn’t hurt nobody. And he could cook too.”
The man’s cry came through the surgery door, causing Ortiz to pause. The lines of his face deepened as he stared at the door.
The sound cut straight through Caleb.
He'd heard wounded men before. Too many of them. But hearing it come from the room where Sheila was working made him uneasy in a way he couldn't quite explain.
“That fella in there. He’s hurt pretty bad?” Caleb asked.
“Tex,” Duke said. “He sure is.”
“You said you were close to Charlotte Falls. Why didn’t you get help there?”
Bass let out a short mirthless laugh, and his boss shot a look at him.
“We stopped there,” Ortiz replied. “We couldn’t get nobody to look at him. His black skin didn’t exactly make him too welcome.”
Along the established cattle trails, there were plenty of black-skinned cowboys.
There’d always been a mix of white and black and brown among the ranch hands in Texas, even before slavery was abolished.
After the war, freed men came west from the southern states.
Ranchers were glad to hire them and put them to work.
In the area around Duke’s ranch near Fort Concho, maybe two out of three cowboys were white. The rest were black and Mexican.
Once Duke left the Goodnight-Loving Trail, though, any chance of a hospitable reception went to hell in a hand basket.
“Elkhorn’s a long way from there,” Caleb said.
And if Tex had survived the journey, Caleb knew it would be Doc Burnett's skill that made it happen. Along with Sheila's stubborn refusal to quit on people.
“Took us four days. And it weren’t easy, neither. Tex was hurting bad, but he was making it the first day. After that, he got worse and worse. He started with a fever two days ago. He was out of his head. We had to tie that poor boy to his saddle the whole way.”
“Where was he shot?”
“In the leg. About halfway down from the knee.”
“When we started to take the boot off,” Bass put in, “it looked like the foot would come off with it.”
That didn’t sound good. “Well, ain’t no doctor anywhere better than this man.”
“Kind of him to take care of us, Marlowe. That’s a fact. But I also came here to get you. I’ll need help getting your herd back. We both know there ain’t nobody better at tracking or handling a gun. But I’ll also need a place to leave Tex and Bass to mend.”
“Wait,” Bass said. “You ain’t leaving me here. I’m coming too.”
Caleb gestured to the wounded arm. “Doc ain’t seen to that, yet. Maybe you oughta see what he says.”
“I’m going. Them boys they killed was friends of mine. I owe them sons of bitches.”
“If you’re fit to ride, I ain’t gonna stop you,” Duke said, looking back at Caleb. “But Tex is gonna need—”
The discussion came to an abrupt halt and all three came to their feet when the door to the surgery opened and Sheila appeared.
Her eyes immediately found Caleb, and a brief smile softened the strain on her face.
The sight of it eased something inside him. For the last half hour he'd been staring at disaster. Somehow, seeing Sheila reminded him that not everything was lost.
“Good to see you back in town, Marlowe.”
He nodded in greeting. In spite of the grimness of the situation, he couldn’t help but feel that her blue eyes and golden hair brightened the day. Duke’s offer of settling their business one way or the other took some of the worry out of it. He could breathe again.
Caleb imagined Sheila and Doc must have been surprised when these men landed on their doorstep.
From the looks of her, she’d been hard at work with her father.
The apron she wore over her light blue dress was blotted and streaked with blood.
Her own handprints showed at the hips where she’d wiped them.
Her sleeves were pushed up above the elbows.
Her hair was pulled up and tied out of the way.
Despite the circles under her eyes and the blood staining her apron, she was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
Not because she looked delicate. Quite the opposite.
“Your friend is sedated,” she told Ortiz. “Doc will speak to you about his condition after he’s done with Mr. Dart’s arm.”
She motioned to Bass, and the injured man followed Sheila through the door.
“Like I said,” Caleb said to Duke, “John Burnett is a damn good doctor. He had plenty of practice doing surgery during the war. And he ain’t no bogus, two-bit snake-oil man.”
The muscles in the cattleman’s jaws clenched. “That gunshot looked real bad, Marlowe. But Tex can’t survive without his leg. Riding herd is all he knows. And he’s damn good at it.”
“Wait till you talk to Doc.”
Ortiz ran a hand down his weary face. “You probably think I should have gone after the cattle. Track where them pendejos took them. But I couldn’t let my last two men die.”
He’d lost nine men. “I know how you felt about your ranch hands.”
“I been lucky, Marlowe. My men are aces at what they do. Or did, I reckon I should say. And brave. They’d fight off a Comanche raiding party for a single dogie.
I never rode with a truer gang of men than them that was bringing your steers north.
And now they’re about gone. They never had a chance with them bushwhackers. ”
“How long these two fellas been with you?”
“Bass been riding for me for more than four years. Tex been with me for seven. He was only twelve years old when he started rassling longhorns. You know I got no boys of my own. Tex ain’t had no family for as long as he can recall, and he was like…
” He stopped, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Well, this job is all he got.”
“You did right coming here,” Caleb said. “We’ll find the killers who did this.”
The rancher straightened up. “And find your cattle while we’re at it.”
Caleb certainly planned to. A thousand head of longhorns left tracks. And there were very few trails the rustlers had to drive them over.
“Once we find them and repay that band of culeros for what they done, we’ll need help driving them the rest of way. I reckon we’ll find enough saddle stiffs in Pueblo looking for work before winter.”
He understood Ortiz’s desire to make good on these things, but he was getting ahead of himself. One step at the time.
At least with Henry back, Caleb had the peace of mind that he could leave running of the ranch to his partner. Gabe and Paddy were available to help, but he couldn’t rely on them once the snow started piling up.
The sound of a man calling out Duke’s name could be heard from the surgery. Caleb and Ortiz pushed to their feet.
Sheila reappeared in the doorway. “The sedative isn’t settling your ranch hand. He’s asking for you.”
Ortiz hurried into the room.
“Mind if I come in?” Caleb asked before Sheila followed. “Maybe I can help.”
She thought a moment and nodded.
For a moment her hand rested lightly against his forearm.
“Stay near the door,” she said. “If we need you, you'll be close.”