Chapter Twenty-Four
Under the basking heat of the Texas mid-day sun, Garrett reached up and wiped at the sweat pouring from his brow.
Such work on the adobe was better left for the evening hours when the heat wasn’t so brutal, but he’d put it off long enough, and he wanted to prove to Hannah and her siblings that he was willing to make room for them not just in his heart, but in his home.
“Catch!” Isaac called, and Garrett lifted his hand just in time to catch the canteen that came sailing toward him.
Garrett winced and gritted his teeth as pain shot through his right shoulder and arm after lifting it so fast. He’d hurt it years ago while wrangling cattle.
Over time, the injury had seemed to heal but every once in a while when he wasn’t paying attention, he’d move his shoulder the wrong way and the old pain would come barreling back and take his breath away.
“Thanks,” Garrett panted. He took a long swig of the water, relishing the way it sluiced down his dry throat, and then quickly tightened the cap and tossed it back to Isaac with his left hand; careful not to cause another painful flare in his right.
“That’s good work you got going on there,” Garrett noted, nodding to Isaac’s progress.
He, Jacob, and Garrett all had their own parts of the room to work on.
Garrett put himself in charge of the wall that would eventually attach the room to the rest of the house.
Jacob was taking the right wall, and Isaac was constructing the left.
It was hard, messy work to form the clay-like mud and sand mixture into sturdy walls, especially on a day so hot that the mud kept trying to dry up, but Isaac had been eager and diligent with his work, and already had approximately an eight-foot span of wall built about two and a half feet up.
Isaac beamed at the praise, and with his dirty hands, patted the wall he was working on.
“Got about another six inches going up before we put the planks in for the window, right?” He asked.
“You got it, son,” Garrett agreed with a grin and a nod. “Keep on going.”
Isaac’s smile somehow grew bigger, and he turned back to his dirty work.
Garrett decided he should check on Jacob’s progress as well, and turned to the right.
He grimaced as instead of seeing smooth, even walls like Isaac’s, Jacob’s was overly gritty, not at all straight, and there were multiple patches where the wall was either too thick or too thin.
Not only that, but where Isaac’s wall was almost three feet high, Jacob’s was barely a foot.
Jacob scowled the moment he saw Garrett walk toward him, and stepped back from his work and crossed his arms.
“I told you I didn’t want to help,” he grumbled angrily.
“You want your own room, don’t you?” Garrett asked, cocking his head to the side.
Jacob’s scowl deepened, but he gave a reluctant nod.
“Then we got to build it,” Garrett said, shrugging his broad shoulders.
“Yeah, but why do we have to build it during the hottest part of the day? The top of my head hurts like it’s burning!”
Concerned, Garrett reached for Jacob’s head without giving it a second thought, and tilted it just enough to look down at the boy’s scalp.
Garrett hissed out a breath as he saw through the boy’s thick raven hair the beginnings of sun burn.
Something that was awful on any other part of the body but particularly brutal for the scalp.
He took off his worn cowboy hat and plopped it down on Jacob’s head.
“Remind me to get both of you boys new hats from the leather smith when we go to town,” he told Jacob. “No wonder your head hurts! We never got you, fellas, a proper hat.”
He then pulled out the clean kerchief from his back pocket, and after calling Isaac’s name to get his attention, Garrett tossed it to him.
“Put that on your head,” he advised, and Isaac quickly obeyed without a fuss.
“What about you?” Jacob asked, adjusting the too-large cowboy hat on his much smaller head.
“Pshaw, I’ll be fine,” Garrett said, waving his hand through the air. “It’s my fault I didn’t think ahead. The hat will protect your head from the sun and keep you cooler too.”
Jacob’s scowl faded a little, and he murmured thanks.
“So, umm, guess this isn’t right?” He murmured next.
Garrett let out a dry chuckle and shook his head.
“No sir, it is not,” he agreed.
“Can you…” Jacob said hesitantly, “Can you show me how to fix it? I don’t want to be out here, but since this room is for me… I guess I should build it right.”
It wasn’t exactly the most charitable of responses Jacob could have given, but Garrett decided to focus more on the fact that Jacob was willing to fix his mistakes despite his bad mood. It was a small win, but a win all the same.
“Sure I will,” Garrett agreed, hunkering down to Jacob’s bucket of mud.
He spent the next several minutes teaching Jacob how to flesh out the thin areas in the wall and then how to shave off the thicker ones. He was just about to show him how to take the grainy texture and smooth it out when the sound of several hoofbeats filled the air.
“Is someone here to help us?” Jacob asked, looking happy for the first time in days.
Wariness spread through Garrett’s veins as he took a tentative step around the side of the house, then his heart began pounding loudly as three riders came up so quick on him, they nearly ran him over.
“Watch yourself, fella!” He hollered, “I’ve got children back here!”
The man closest walked his horse forward.
He sneered, revealing two gold teeth on his left side.
Garrett studied the man’s face, trying to determine any sense of recognition.
Yet as he took in the shoulder-length blonde hair, scruffy beard, and sharp nose, he felt none.
He tried to look at the man’s eyes, but they were hidden by the low-pulled bill of the man’s cowboy hat.
He wasn’t dressed in anything fancy, either. In fact, he looked like most cowboys or ranchers looked with his brown suede chaps, dusky blue shirt, and a red kerchief wrapped around his neck.
Not from the railroad, Garrett thought, recalling the fancy suits Mr. Clipper and Mr. Shear had worn on their visit.
“You fellas lost?” Garrett asked.
“This Diamond W Ranch?” The blonde man in front asked.
“It is,” Garrett replied warily, “I’m the owner, Garrett Mercer.”
The blonde man’s sneer deepened.
“Well, I can’t claim you’re not Garrett Mercer, but you’re certainly not the owner of this ranch anymore,” the man retorted.
A bolt of anxiety moved through Garrett. No. That couldn’t be right. Logan was going to make everything right. He was finding proof that there was a scam going on.
“Boys,” Garrett called, jerking his head toward Jacob and Isaac, “Get on inside now.”
Jacob took a wary step toward them, but Isaac stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Everything alright, Garrett?” Isaac called back.
Garrett gave a stiff nod.
“Everything will be just fine,” he stated, “Just go on inside now. You both earned a break.”
To Garrett’s surprise and relief, the three riders were decent enough to remain still and silent as Isaac and Jacob made their way out of the construction site and headed toward the front of the house.
“Cute kids,” the blonde man remarked. “Don’t look nothin’ like you, though. Lose your missus like you lost your ranch, cowboy?”
The man’s voice was full of bitter vitriol as he sneered at Garrett, sending rage shooting through his anxiety.
“My wife and those kids are no business of yours, Mister,” Garrett warned.
The man chortled and walked his horse back a step.
“Fair enough. We got other business to discuss anyway. Like you vacating this property, for example,” the man said.
“And who are you to be telling me that?” Garrett asked.
The man’s response was to pull out an envelope from his saddle bag and hand it to Garrett.
Garrett snatched it from his hand and took a step back as he opened it. The moment his eyes raced down the words, he felt his blood run cold.
“You can call me Mr. Stage. As you can see there, the Southern Pacific Railroad has sold this land to my employer,” the man explained. “It’s his now, and if you change your tune and show me you have manners, I may let you stay a little longer to get your affairs in order.”
Garrett’s gaze shot from the certified letter to the blonde man.
“Mr. Blackwood got a first name?” He asked, referring to the name he’d read on the certified papers.
The blonde man smiled and nodded.
“Sure does. Isn’t really your business though, is it?” he goaded.
Garrett swallowed the growing urge to drag the pretentious man off his horse, opting instead to send God a prayer for strength and patience.
“I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding, Mr. Stage,” Garrett said, forcing his tone to be calm.
As he did so, he heard the sound of more hoofbeats, and his heartbeat stammered.
Hannah was supposed to be in town with the other children.
Surely they weren’t back yet. He almost panicked at the thought.
They’d been doing so well the last few days.
Hannah was growing more comfortable on the ranch.
So were the children. In fact, a happiness of sorts had settled over the place.
Garrett wasn’t ready to let go of that. Not yet.
Nor was he ready for Hannah to find out about his troubles.
“There’s been a false deed filed at the courthouse,” Garrett continued, “Our Sheriff knows and is looking into it. The Southern Pacific Railroad has no true right to this land.”
The approaching horse came around the house then, and Garrett’s knees almost went weak with relief as he saw it was Logan. He nodded toward his friend and took a step toward him.
“This is him,” Garrett explained to Mr. Stage. “He’ll tell you all about it. Logan? Tell these men what’s going on? They’ve been swindled into buying land from someone who doesn’t own it.”