Chapter Three
After supper, Ace walked down to the river to wash up. The night was hot, but not too bad. The sun was starting to yawn and settle down. Not much light was left in the sky. Night insects were already starting their fussing.
He spotted Brandon walking out from behind some trees. Walks funny. Almost like a gal. Ace had never seen the new hand’s entire face. He kept his hat pulled low over his eyes, and a bandanna always covered his mouth. The man claimed he wore it because his lips were marred by an old wound.
Reckon it could be true. Seen folks who were in fires… they kept their faces covered.
Still, Ace was oddly curious. Brandon always wore that baggy coat, no matter how hot the days became.
Brandon walked past Ace without saying a word, keeping his eyes low.
“Supper okay?” Ace asked.
“Fine,” Brandon answered. His voice sounded almost childish, like he was just a boy who had yet to become a man.
“Eat enough?”
“Plenty.”
“Good.”
“Uh… sorry about the river.”
“Stuff happens. Need to learn to swim, is all,” Ace responded. He peered at Brandon, trying to see his eyes, but gave up. He took his attention to the river. “Fella could end up in a bad way on this trail if he can’t swim.”
“Uh… yeah. Well, thanks.” With that, Brandon walked off.
Ace didn’t turn and watch him. He kept his eyes on the river. Brandon could handle his horse, and he was a good drag rider.
Still… I wonder.
For some reason, his thoughts wandered from Brandon to Belle.
The woman’s beautiful face appeared in his mind like a glowing moon.
Did he miss her? Of course. Was he jealous her love went to another fella?
No… but the wound stung. He’d wanted to marry Belle and start a family.
All through the war, he’d imagined what it would be like to grow old with her at his side.
Suddenly, Ace found himself staring out the window of a warm general store in the middle of January. Belle’s pa owned the place. Ace really didn’t need any supplies. He’d come here just to see Belle. He came into town as much as possible—even when the winds were cold enough to cut a man in half.
“It’s snowing again,” he heard himself tell Belle.
“Oh, good. I do love the snow.”
Ace turned to see Belle behind the front counter, folding pretty fabrics. She looked so beautiful—like home.
“I’ll be leaving for the war come spring.”
“Oh, Ace, why do you have to fight in that dreadful war?” Belle pouted, setting the fabric down. “Every man around here wants to run off and fight… Why do you have to be so silly?”
“Belle, we can’t let the Yanks step on us.”
“I’m from Maine, remember? My father brought me to Texas because this is where my mother is from. Love blinds a man.”
“Sure does.” Ace smiled.
“You stop that, now,” Belle ordered with a smile.
Ace stepped close to a wood-burning stove. The general store smelled of spices, flour, pipe tobacco, and burning wood. He liked the smell. He liked how the store looked cluttered with goods, all sorts of foodstuffs, clothes, tools, and weapons fitting together like a food on a dinner plate.
What Ace didn’t like was Belle insisting that she wouldn’t marry a rancher—or scout. “You stay gone too long on the trail, then spend all your time working your ranch, Ace. You only come into town to see me when the weather gets cold.”
“Belle, I’m gonna run a few more trails after the war. When Pa died, I was out on the trail running cattle. When I got back, the house and barn had burned down.”
“Sheriff Owens said your pa collapsed and knocked over a lantern.”
“Yeah, and it’s a good thing the sheriff was visiting, or Pa might’ve burned up, too.” Sorrow whispered into Ace’s heart. Though his pa hadn’t died in the fire, the smoke had taken its toll on the old man’s lungs, and he’d died soon after.
“Oh, Ace, Sheriff Owens is older than time. He shouldn’t be wearing a badge if he can’t even put out a fire!”
Privately, Ace agreed. Still, the old badge had saved his pa from being burned up. “Point is, the ranch is in a bad way. The fire spooked the cattle, and they done ran off?—?”
“In other words, you can’t get married yet—but you’re willing to go off and fight in some silly war,” Belle pointed out.
“Belle?—?”
“The town is growing, Ace. Business is good. My father already told you he wants to sell you this store and open a second one down the street.”
Ace lowered his eyes. He couldn’t imagine being shoved up in a store all day. He was the kind of man that had to be out in the fresh air. “Belle, the war is important.”
“Pooh,” Belle huffed. She went back to folding fabric. “Ace, I’m not getting younger, and neither are you. I’m shocked at myself for even considering a man of your nature. I don’t even like beards. In fact, I’ve been thinking about going back to Maine altogether.”
“Belle?—?”
“I mean it, Ace. Texas is horrid, full of violence and killing. The land is dry and hard. I miss Maine. I miss the lakes and the lush trees I used to play under as a girl. I miss the snow?—?”
“It snows here!”
“The snow always feels dirty here.”
At the time, Ace had thought that Belle was only teasing him, trying to keep him from leaving.
But she’d obviously been serious, because she’d returned to Maine shortly after the war ended and married a merchant. Her father had moved back to Maine, too, and written Ace a letter about how happy they all were… and that Belle was expecting a baby.
I guess she’s happy. I know her pa is.
Ace dropped his eyes. Belle was pregnant, and he was still running cattle on some dry and dusty trail. He was thirty-two years old. The years were moving fast. What did he have to look forward to? Running a small ranch? Living alone, growing old, and being tossed into a lonely grave?
Finn’s voice cut through Ace’s thoughts. “Hey Ace, come here.”
“What is it?”
“Brandon’s fixing a saddle strap like you’ve never seen!”
Ace slowly looked over his shoulder toward where they’d piled the saddles and tack for the night. He spotted Brandon hunkered down next to a saddle with Clyde and Dallas standing next to him. Ace stood and walked over, feeling a bit on the worn-down side.
Sure enough, Brandon was using a thick thread to repair a tear in the saddle strap. His hands were moving as easily as a spider weaving a new web.
“Nothing to it,” he said.
“Maybe to you,” Clyde spoke up, seemingly dumbfounded.
“Not bad, Brandon.” Dallas sounded impressed.
“Where’d you learn to sew like that?” Clyde asked.
Ace eyed Brandon as he waited to hear the answer.
“Uh… my ma taught me,” Brandon said, sounding oddly uneasy.
“Where are you from?” Finn pressed.
“Uh… south of North Rock a ways.”
“Caldwell?” Clyde asked.
“Yeah, I reckon.” Brandon’s fingers started moving even faster. “Yeah, nothing to it. Just gotta triple-sew the tear with thick thread. Double is okay, but triple is better.”
I swear he sounds like a young’un. Ace decided to press Brandon for more information. “Ever been down to Pale Pass?” he asked. “It’s about four miles south of Caldwell.”
“Sure… a few times.”
There was no such place, though—Ace had made it up on the spot.
He just lied to me.
“Mind me asking who your folks are?”
“They’re dead.”
“Sorry to hear that. Dallas never told me what outfits you’ve worked for.”
Brandon ducked his head. “Rode for Paul Thatcher most of my life. He raised me up.”
“Yeah, Paul was a good fella,” Dallas added. “Owned a spread east of Caldwell in Mayville.”
Brandon lifted his head and looked at Dallas. The old man smiled down at him just as the last of the sunlight faded into darkness.
Ace knew where Mayville was, but he’d only been there once, and he didn’t know any of the ranchers in that area. Reckon Dallas ain’t got no reason to lie to me.
“Ain’t ever been to Mayville,” Finn said. “Caldwell’s not a bad town, though. A bit rough, but it ain’t no worse than Fort Worth.”
“Nope,” Clyde agreed. “Well, me and Finn best get ready now the sun is down. Come on, Finn.”
Ace stared at Brandon for a few more seconds and then made his way to the cookfire. After filling a trail cup with hot coffee, he sat down on a log Clyde had dragged up.
Dallas sat down next to him a few minutes later. “Might want to lay off Brandon. He’s the nervous kind.”
“Yeah?” Ace glanced into the dark, toward where Brandon had set up his bedroll. He suspected Dallas was protecting Brandon for some reason.
But why?
“Look, Ace, we go back a ways. I knew your pa, remember? Ain’t no reason for us to be sour with each other. Just lay off the fella. He’s just needing to ride the trail up to Wichita, is all, and you gotta admit, he’s a good drag rider.”
“Just wondering who he is, Dallas.”
“Nothing wrong with that—but you should understand that some fellas just stay off to themselves. After all, I never see you sitting around the cookfire with the fellas.”
Ace took a sip of coffee. I reckon Brandon is a loner, too. Ain’t my business to press. As long as he does his job, that’s all I care about it. “Coffee?”
“Nah. Gonna get some shuteye. Kind of enjoying running a small herd. Old Henry was smart to hire you. The railroad is gonna end up shutting down the cattle trails and charging ranchers more money than they have to haul their herds. Wait and see.”
“Folks are changing… land is changing.”
“That’s why I’m glad I’m old, Ace. I’ll die off before the land turns so bad I won’t recognize it. I live a good life. The Lord has been mighty kind to me. When I die, I ain’t gonna do it with my boots full of spurs.”
“Your wife?” Ace wasn’t sure why he’d asked. The question just came out of nowhere.
“Yep. I’ll see Melinda someday. She’s up in Heaven waiting for me with them three stillborn babies. Looking forward to seeing them. Well, I best go get some rest before my shift.”
“Okay.”
Dallas wandered off to his saddle to fetch his trail blanket, and Brandon stayed in the dark.