Chapter Six
The next day proved to be interesting. While at camp, a strange man rode up that no one recognized.
“Name’s Lyle Hennings,” the ugly black-haired man told Ace. The fella seemed to be about twenty years old or so. Old enough to fight—and old enough to be killed.
Ace eyed Lyle the way he eyed a snake. Lyle’s teeth were black from chewing too much tobacco. His eyes were nearly yellow. He was a wild coyote at best—and dressed like it, too.
His gun belt is loose. He’s the type who shoots first.
“What can I do for you?” Ace asked.
“Seen your herd. Need an extra hand? I worked for Scott Goforth over in Oregon. Worked for a small outfit up in the Montana territory, too.”
“What brings you back down this way?”
“Got in trouble,” Lyle offered, which seemed like an honest answer.
“Not with the law, mind you. Fella called me out. Shot him dead. Law ran me off. Ended up in the Montana territory. Boy howdy, winters up that way are meaner than a grizzly’s claw.
Decided to head back south. Just drifting for now. ”
“I got all the hands I need… and can afford.” Henry emphasized the last word very sharply.
“Well…” Lyle shifted on his saddle and then removed a dirty round hat from his head, revealing a wad of hair that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in ten years. “Tell you what… I’ll work for some grub. I’ll ride drag and keep the stragglers in line. I’m a real good shot, too.”
Ace studied Lyle’s eyes. His gut told him to run the drifter off, but he knew the type. Lyle was bad news. If he got poked too hard, he’d come back and shoot hard.
Dallas rode up then. “Say, are you Ned Hennings boy?” he asked Lyle.
A huge, ugly grin spread across Lyle’s dirty face. “Sure am, old-timer. Name’s Lyle.”
“Thought so,” Dallas said. “Used to ride with your pa some in the old days. Then, he met a gal named Betty?—?”
“Babcock!”
“From?—?”
“Tennessee!” Lye exclaimed, finishing for Dallas.
“Sure enough.” Dallas nodded his head.
“Well, old-timer, my pa died of the consumption some time back. Ma married herself off to some fella from St. Louis. Didn’t take a liking to the fella…
Ma ran me off. Been drifting ever since.
Got into some trouble way up there in Oregon…
nearly froze to death in the Montana territory… came back down this way.”
Ace sensed that Lyle was telling the truth. He might be a scoundrel, but he was an honest one.
“Looking for work, are you?” Dallas asked.
“More like some grub,” Lyle answered. “Hoping this fella will hire me on.”
“What about it?” Dallas asked Ace.
“You can pay me with beans and coffee,” Lyle added quickly.
Yeah, he’s mighty hungry. But I don’t need his kind around.
But then again, the more hands I got, the more guns.
If Roscoe Carver shows up, I’m gonna need all the guns I can get.
This drifter don’t seem like he’s interested in hanging around.
No, he’s a loner like me. Not likely he’ll turn on me if Carver shows up.
Seems to be the kind that likes a good fight.
“Can’t pay you—” Henry started.
“Grub will be enough,” Lyle interrupted, “and I won’t cause any trouble. Got my word.”
“No whiskey,” Henry ordered. “If you cause trouble, you ride out or answer to me.”
“Shoot fire, I cause trouble wherever I go!” Lyle grinned. “But I ain’t interested in getting a rope put around my neck. Nah. I’ll probably end up being shot dead before my next birthday.”
“Don’t have to be that way,” Dallas told Lyle.
“Old-timer, you knew my pa. He rode wild. Got his blood in me.” Lyle nodded at Ace.
“Anyway, I’ll sign on and work for grub.
And don’t worry about the whiskey… ain’t got none.
Barely got any tobacco left to chew. Cleaned up a saloon real good up in exchange for some tobacco.
Bartender wouldn’t give me no whiskey… Shoulda shot him through the eye. ”
Ace would’ve run Lyle off right then and there, but the man winked at Dallas to show he was only joshing.
“Well, it’s almost supper. You best come eat,” Dallas told Lyle. “Right, Ace?”
“Yeah, go on and get some grub and settle your horse down,” Ace ordered.
“Boy howdy!” Lyle took off after Dallas like a hungry wolf, slobbering over the smell of fresh grub.
“If I didn’t get word about Carver, I would’ve fed that boy and run him off,” Henry said. “Truth is, I need an extra gun. Clyde is slow on the draw, and so is Finn. Dallas is old, and he ain’t fast on the draw no more, either.”
Ace’s thoughts went to Brandon. He’s running from something. Dallas knows it, too. He’s protecting the kid. The way he startled awake back at Fort Arrow… he’s in a bad way.
Brandon rode up. “Who’s that new fella?” he asked.
“Lyle Hennings. Hired him to run ride drag,” Ace explained. He could see the herd from the hill he was sitting on. Hill wasn’t much, but it offered just enough height to let him see more of the land. “Gonna storm tonight.”
“Reckon so.”
Ace saw Brandon eyeing the camp below. “Worried?”
“Just liked it being the four of us, is all. That new fella looks like he’s trouble.”
“He’s a drifter… but he looks fast on the draw. Right now, having an extra gun around ain’t such a bad idea.” Ace kept his voice steady.
He pointed down at the camp. “Land has some low hills here. Not many trees. Lot of rocks and brush. Washita River is close by. Won’t be too long before we’ll be above the river. They’ll be other rivers. Bunch of them, in fact.”
“I’ll be real careful crossing.”
“I know good places to cross,” Ace went on, “but moving a herd takes time. The herd we got ain’t big, but we can’t run ’em hard. Herd needs good grazing land, too. Have to be careful not to let ’em graze on land ain’t meant to be grazed on. Have to stay on the trail.”
Brandon listened.
“Lots of dangers on the trail. Snakes, coyotes… outlaws.” Ace watched Brandon closely.
At the mention of outlaws, the kid tensed up.
“The weather is always a problem, too. If you’re in a dip, the land can flood.
Bad on the herd. Heat is rough. Always good to let the cattle cool off at a river crossing.
Making sure you know where watering holes are is important, too. ”
“How come you’re telling me all this?”
“Just want you to get a better handle on the trail,” Ace answered. He pointed northeast. “Fort Reno is that way. The trail will run us close to the fort. We’ll stop and check in. Always do. Then, we’ll move on. Trail will run us to Wichita.”
“Okay.”
Ace looked at Brandon, wishing he could see his face.
“I want you riding with Dallas from now on.”
“Sure.”
“And stay close to the herd,” Ace ordered in a tone that meant business. He don’t need to be wondering off. The Choctaw are peaceful enough, but you can never tell. Plus, there’s drifters all over this land—and bloody guns.
“I hear you.” Brandon sounded a bit annoyed. “I ain’t a child, Ace.”
“No, but we’ve got to get this herd up the trail, and I don’t need to be worrying about you.” Ace tried to make his voice sound stern. He’d been real harsh when Brandon almost drowned—or thought he was drowning. His gut told him to ease off some.
“I ain’t needing to be worried about.” Brandon gave his horse a kick and rode back to camp.
Ace watched him. He rides like a woman. I can see that now. Didn’t see it before because his clothes are so blasted baggy.
Or maybe he just hadn’t wanted to notice. Maybe he’d been thinking about the end of the trail too much. His ranch was set up well enough that he could run a herd of his own if he wanted.
In his heart, Ace was wondering if he would grow old alone.
He was a loner… a distant man that didn’t let anyone get close.
But the thought of growing old alone was painful.
He wanted to roll over in his bed and feel the touch of a loving woman next to him.
He wanted to hear the voice of a woman who loved him and smell her scent and feel her hair.
The fact was, Ace was lonely. Sure, there were plenty of saloon girls around… but that wasn’t his ride. He wanted a woman to love and tend to and care for—even die for.
Belle’s gone. Guess it’s time for me to move on. War scarred me pretty good. I reckon I was scarred before the war, too…
Ace’s heart was dragged back to a cool autumn day when he’d been out in the woods hunting turkey with his ma and pa.
“Now you shoot me a fat turkey, Fran,” he heard his pa teasing.
Ma was nervous. She was on her first hunt, but she’d wanted to go. Pa had taught her how to shoot real good. We needed game to eat. Winters were hard.
Ma had been wearing a brown hat, checking a rifle that Pa had called ‘Quick Shooter’ because the trigger pulled real easy instead of hard and rough.
It was a pretty day. The air was cool… a good wind was blowing. We were in a good part of the woods to hunt turkey.
Then, suddenly, a wolf had jumped out from the brush beyond them and locked eyes on Ace.
Ace saw his ma raise the barrel of the gun toward the wolf.
“Ma, what are you?—?”
The next thing he saw was his ma fire the gun to protect him from the wolf.
The gun had misfired and killed his own mother instead.
Ma wanted to make Pa proud of her. She was anxious to start hunting and nervous about making her first kill. She wanted everything to be right.
Ace had been a young boy when that bullet had ended his ma’s life on earth. Seeing such a death had haunted his dreams and heart ever since. His pa had withdrawn from everything. He’d barely talked to anyone—even his own son.
Only said a few words to me here and there. His heart just started to die off. Is that what I’m doing? Only difference is… Pa had his reasons. I don’t. Or do I?
Ace found Brandon with his eyes. For some reason, he started to wonder more about him.