Macon Ch. 01

"What the hell you think you're doing?" he demanded. "We were having a conversation."

"I don't think the lady was interested," he said. "Nice meeting you. We've got to be going."

Hardy stepped out onto the porch. "I'll decide when we're through talking," the young man said. He moved into an exaggerated crouch, his hand hanging near the gun belted low on his hips.

Macon turned slowly to face the young man. "You're making a mistake, sir," he said. "We're just leaving. Thanks, Hardy. We'll pick up the mare and be on our way."

Hardy nodded. "Hey! You don't just walk away," the young man shouted.

Consuela moved on Laredo's back and there was a click as she drew back the hammer of Macon's rifle. It was pointed directly at the young man's belt buckle. "We are leaving now," she said quietly.

He froze, and Consuela watched him as Macon led Laredo away and until they turned the corner, leaving the scene behind.

"Ayres, that little lady just saved your life," Hardy spoke to the young man. "You was fixen' to get your ears clipped. That was Macon Thorpe you was talking to."

Boyd Ayres stood there for a moment. "That was Thorpe?" he said. "Didn't seem like much to me, hiding behind a woman like that."

The older man spoke for the first time. "Don't be a fool, boy. If you'd drawed on that man we'd both be layin' here in the dust right now. Damn, you almost got me killed! Yore daddy would be mighty disappointed."

"I never seen any of his graveyards," Ayers said sullenly. "What makes him so tough?"

Hardy lit a cigar. "I know all the stories," he said, "but I only know one, for sure. Happened when he first come to this neck of the woods. He'd been diggin' around and found something. He went back east and sold it. Word was, it fetched a pretty penny. This was before your outfit come here. Bill Gamble run with a rough bunch. They figured they'd relieve Thorpe of his new-found wealth. They snuck up on his house and laid out in the brush, waitin' for him to come out. Somehow, he got wind they was there, and he never did come out. They waited three days, and finally lost their nerve. They pulled out and was ridin' back up the trail. They came around a rock and there he was, waitin' for them. All he said was, 'Looking for me, boys?

"There was three of them, and Gamble opened the ball. He went for his gun, and Macon was firing. He put six shots into them before they ever got their guns out. He buried Bill Gamble and Bruce Hollister. Skip Perkins was still alive, and Macon tied him on his horse and sent him out of there. He lived to tell the tale, and that's the only way anyone knew what happened. Everybody reckoned Gamble was pretty quick. He'd killed three men in a fight over cards over in Tucson. He never got a shot off."

The grizzled older man shook his head. "That's the trouble with pickin' fights with strangers. You never know what they can do. I'm outta here. I don't need the kind of trouble Macon Thorpe would have brought, and I don't need no snot-nosed kid gettin' me killed."

He eased into the saddle and rode west of town.

*****

Consuela liked the look of the little mare. As Hardy had said, she was as gentle as an old cow, and although she didn't have a saddle, she could sit astride just fine, even with the occasional burst of pain from her injured leg.

They were maybe five miles out of town before either spoke. "Macon, what were you going to do back there?" she asked.

"You mean with those two men?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes, I feel the younger one intended to shoot you."

He snorted. "He was probably just bluffing. I was trying to get us out of there, Consuela. Too much chance of a stray bullet flying around and hitting some innocent person. Maybe you. I was trying to talk my way out of it."

"What if they did not wish to talk?" she asked.

He glanced at her. His eyes were a cold steel grey. "I would have killed them," he said.

They rode on for another minute. "What were you going to do?" he asked. "You unlimbered my rifle pretty quick there."

"I was going to shoot the young man," she said. "I supposed you capable of handling the other. I was going to shoot him many times." He looked over and her and her dark eyes were flashing. He laughed.

"Damned if I don't think you would have," he said. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

"I have no bad side," she said. "Consuela does not admire bullies."

They camped that night beside a small stream, and by mid-morning the following day, the buildings of the Z-bar, Macon's ranch, came into view. A small stream flowed nearby and the buildings were in the shape of an L. A large house, and a smaller one, formed the short side, and what appeared to be a bunk house, a smithy and a stable formed the extended long side.

As they topped the ridge, Macon gestured. "Home, sweet home," he said. The buildings were situated in a shallow bowl-shaped feature, and there was a grove of trees along the stream.

"It is very beautiful," she said. "Have you lived here long?"

"Four years," he said.

"How many live here?" she asked.

"I have five regular hands," he said. "Sometimes, if there's extra work, I hire someone for a few months. One of my hands is married. That's his place." He indicated the smaller of the two houses. "His wife cooks and keeps the place clean for me. You'll like Mary. She's has quite the temper, but she's funny and pretty, and she'll love having you here."

There were several large corrals off to the east, and one area that was fenced with several young bulls in it.

They rode up to the house, and Macon helped her inside. She sank down into a chair with a sigh, and he pushed a footstool in front of her chair, putting a pillow on it so she could rest her foot.

"Thank you, Macon," she said.

"Is there anything you need?" he asked.

"I wish very much for a bath," she said. "Would that be possible?"

He grinned. "It would, indeed. Only the finest of French soaps for my lady."

Macon had an interesting setup. He had a small dam built on the stream and water was piped from the pond to his house. It emptied into a large kettle in his washroom over a stove, and he could heat about thirty gallons of water at a time. He had a large copper washtub, and he could enjoy hot baths with a little preparation. He went in and built the fire under the kettle.

He told Consuela that it would be about an hour, then went to check on things around the ranch. She decided to nap while he was gone, After checking with his men, he came back to find the water in the kettle steaming. He let it flow into the washtub, adding a little cold water to make it bearable, and went to wake Consuela.

He helped her to the washroom, laid out towels and a robe for her, placed soap and clean cloths within reach and left her to bathe. She took a long time, and when she called, he went to help her back to her chair. He bathed, and by that time Mary had come to fix dinner. The hands all ate at Macon's table, and they were awestricken at the beautiful woman staying on their ranch.

After dinner, and while Mary cleaned up, Macon built a fire in the fireplace and placed Consuela there in front of it on a bear rug with pillows around her to prop her up. He poured them the last of the good whiskey from his flask and went to sit beside her.

"Tell me about Consuela," he said. "How does a woman your age come to own a sheep ranch? What about your family? Have you always lived there?"

She smiled, her white teeth flashing. "These are many questions. My ancestors came here and settled as part of a land grant from Phillip IV. My mother passed when I was very small. I do not remember her. I have many uncles and Aunts, but they do not live close. My father passed two years ago, and I have been alone since. I have my friend, Hooso, who is in charge in my absence and cares for me. He protects me."

"Odd name," Macon said.

"Yes, he is a Yaqui," she said. "His name means "bear." Were you to see him, you would understand."

They talked for hours, and Macon was entranced by her beauty, intelligence and her lively sense of humor. They began to yawn, and he helped her to her room.

The next morning, they decided it would be best if Macon sent one of his hands to inform Hooso where she was, and let him know that she was injured, but okay.

As her leg healed, she became more mobile, and Macon drove her around the place in his buckboard, showing her the ranch and giving her the grand tour. Dexter, the ranch hand they had sent to Consuela's home, had returned two days earlier, and Hooso showed up, riding up to the house with two pack animals. Their burdens turned out to be clothes for Consuela and many of her personal effects.

He proved to me much like his namesake. He was very wide and thick, though not as tall as Macon, and moved with a silence and grace that belied his bulk. Macon sensed that he was a very dangerous man, and not someone to be crossed. He seemed totally devoted to Consuela, and he spent some time with Macon.

Macon felt as if he was being sized up for something. Evidently, he passed muster, because after two days, Hooso informed him that he was returning home, and leaving Consuela in his care. "You make sure she is well, and returns safely home," Hooso, said. "If harm befalls her, you will not enjoy the consequences."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that," Macon said. "You don't have to threaten me, you know. I'd rather shoot myself in the foot than let anything happen to her. On the other hand, you may be hell-on-wheels, but I don't respond well to threats."

The big Yaqui's obsidian eyes glittered as he stared at Macon for a moment, then he grinned and stuck out his hand. "I think you're a good man," he said. "I'm just letting you know how I feel."

Macon gripped the offered hand. "I know. I'm not offended. I'm glad she's got you. I'm wondering what, exactly, you might consider 'harm,' though."

Hooso grinned again. "I think you know," he said. He turned, spoke to Consuela in Spanish, and she hugged his bulk. He mounted his horse and rode off to the north.

Macon moved over to stand next to Consuela, watching the big man ride away. "That's quite the watchdog you've got there," he said.

She looked up at him and laughed. "My guardian angel," she said. "He has been around as long as I can remember, and I trust him with my life."

"I can see why," he said. "I'm glad you've got someone like him."

She looked up at him, the black pools of her eyes unfathomable. "Why?" she asked.

He was at a loss for words for a moment. Her simple question disturbed him at a deep level. Why would he be glad? He had no time for thought as she tucked her little hand into his and he helped her hobble back inside. He never did formulate an answer to her question, though it continued to disturb his thoughts.

He quickly discovered that an evening bath after dinner was her ritual. He usually found something to do outside, coming back inside after she was finished and sitting in front of the fireplace for their nightly conversation.

Three weeks went by and she was becoming more agile every day. It was obvious that she was nearly fully mended and he expected to hear every day that she would be leaving. One of Marvin Travers' hands rode in to tell Macon there was a dance planned for that Friday night.

He found Consuela at Mary's, the two women sharing a cup of tea. "You up to dancing?" he asked them.

Mary was very much interested, and Consuela seemed to be as excited as her companion. "Are you a skilled dancer, Macon?" she asked.

"Well, 'skilled' may be too strong a word." He laughed. "I manage not to embarrass myself. Are you a 'skilled' dancer?"

"Yes, Consuela loves to dance," she explained. "We maidens of Spanish extraction are well known for our dancing. I have been trained. We had many dances at our ranch when my father was alive. You will be my partner, Macon?"

"I'd love to be your partner," he said. "I somehow doubt you'll have any lack of partners. Every cowboy on the range will be fighting to get a dance with you."

She frowned. "I find that I do not care to dance with them," she said. "I wish to dance with you, Macon."

He didn't know quite how to take that, so he held his peace. Consuela knew quite well how she wanted him to take it. She was growing very impatient with Macon. She found herself extremely attracted to him, and had been using all her charms to attract his attention. So far, he seemed oblivious and that peeved her a bit. She was used to men noticing her, and the fact that he didn't seem to notice her both frustrated her and made him that much more attractive. The dance might shake things up a bit.

She had a pretty dress hanging in the closet, and she thought she looked very nice when he called to her. He had gone to the buckboard to wait, and what he saw in the doorway when she came outside took his breath. The blue dress was tight in the bodice, with one bare shoulder, the neckline exposing the top of rounded swells; her waist was tiny, and below, it flared over hips and hung beautifully in folds to the floor. She looked adorable, Macon thought.

She twirled for him, the dress flaring around her, coming to a stop facing him, her eyes flashing. "Speak, silent one," she commanded.

When he tried, all that came out the first time was a croak. He cleared his throat. "God, Consuela, you're gorgeous! You certainly won't have any trouble finding a dance partner tonight."

"Finding?" She was a little indignant. "I have already found! Are you not taking me to this dance, Macon? You do not wish to dance with me?"

"No... I mean, yes... Hell, I don't know what I mean. You've robbed me of the ability to think or speak. I am taking you, and I very much want to be your partner, but lots of other guys are going to be asking you. Most of them have never seen a woman as beautiful as you."

She blushed. "Will you be very jealous?"

"Well, yes, and no," he said. "I'll be wishing it was me out there with you, but when the dance is over, you're coming back to me, right?"

She nodded. "Si, Consuela will be with Macon. When will we begin to go?"

He laughed. "What a novel way of putting it. We will 'begin to go' as soon as the gentleman offers the lady his arm." He stepped forward and did just that, her little warm hand tucking into the crook of his arm, and he helped her into the buckboard.

It was a good drive, and she snuggled against him, chattering the whole way, looking up into his face, drowning him in the liquid pools of her eyes. They made the trip without incident, and Macon pulled the buckboard up in front of a large barn. There was a bonfire burning in front and one of the ranch hands took the buckboard as Macon escorted Consuela in.

Inside, instead of the bare dirt floor Consuela had expected, there was a raised stone platform, used for threshing wheat and doubling as a dance floor. There were many wooden chairs surrounding the floor, and even a few tables, covered in red-checked cloths.

The music consisted of three guitars, a violin, a harmonica and a mandolin. Macon introduced Consuela to his neighbors and her easy manners and soft accent charmed them. They had to repeat the story of how they met several times, and Consuela quickly grew comfortable with these people.

There were several people Macon didn't know, but one he knew very well caused the first stumble of the evening. Rachael Mars was a leggy blonde whom Macon had asked to a couple of these events. Regarding him as her property, she was taken aback at his appearance with Consuela on his arm. She had arrived with her parents a little after the round of introductions had been made, but she wasn't about to let that stand in her way. She marched up to the table where Macon and Consuela had seated themselves.

"I didn't know you were back, Macon," she said. "If you were, I thought I would hear from you."

Macon was a bit embarrassed. He liked Rachael. She was very attractive, and a fun dance partner, but he never regarded her as anything other than a mild distraction.

"I've been busy," he said.

"So I see," Rachael said. "Are you going to introduce me?"

Macon told the story of how Consuela happened to be staying with him again, and Rachael seemed mollified for the moment. Her father came and claimed her, telling her he had some people he wanted her to meet.

"She is romantically interested in you, and does not admire me," Consuela said, watching them walk away.

"Well, I'm not romantically interested in her," Macon said. "How could anyone not admire you? She just doesn't know you. Once she gets to know you, she'll admire you just as much as everyone else."

Consuela smiled. "Thank you, Macon. I fear that you are a great flatterer."

The music began and Macon led Consuela out onto the platform. He soon realized that he was dancing with someone whose skills were on a whole different level than a barn on a ranch. She plainly knew ballroom dancing, and he was hard-pressed to stay with her.

Macon was no stranger to the dance floor, having spent considerable time there while an army officer, abroad, but he was rusty and Consuela made him feel like an amateur.

Her little body moved as lightly as a feather, and when she was against him, he could feel the heat, as if she was running a fever. They danced three songs and went to rest. Sitting out the next two, Macon's predictions proved true as several men asked her to dance. Macon watched as she swept around the floor, her cheeks flushed with excitement and her eyes flashing, often seeking his when she turned in his direction. When she was escorted back to him after the third dance, she sank, panting, into her chair.

"I must rest, and then we will dance again," she said.

"Having fun?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, Macon. Your friends are very kind to me," she said. "I quite like them. Mr. Roberts was very entertaining. He spoke to me about you. He admires you."

"He's a good man," Macon said. "He sold me the materials to build my place and even found the craftsmen to do the work. I think he admires you more than me, though."

"Someone does not admire either of us, I believe," she said.

"What are you talking about?" Macon asked.

"Those four men over there have been watching us," she said. "From the expressions on their faces, I would think it is not admiration they are feeling. One is the man from Hardy's."

Macon casually glanced in the direction she had been looking. There were four men, their chairs drawn up in a circle, and one of them was Boyd Ayres. One of the men appeared to be a larger, older version of Boyd, and Macon assumed that it was his father. He didn't recognize the third man, but he knew the fourth. It was Pierce Jakes. He was well known, but not for anything good. Rumors swirled that he was a gun for hire. He wasn't the type to force a confrontation, more known for a shot in the dark, a disappearance and a body lying cold in the brush somewhere.

He was a rifle for hire, and his appearance in a place usually meant someone was going to die. "Do you know those men?" he asked Consuela.

"Si," she said. "One of them I do not know. He is the man with the red handkerchief." It was Jakes. "We met together the rude young man," she said. "I have met the big man, once, and the other man was with him. They are very rude."

He laughed. "How so?"

"They came to my home," she said. "They do not admire sheep. They recently moved into the area of my home, somewhat to the southwest with a large cattle herd. Hooso says they are from Texas. They threatened to shoot my sheep and herders if we stray onto property they claim. Part of that property is mine. It is part of the grant."

"What happened?" he asked.

"They became... aggressive," she said. "The man with the fine boots dismounted and began to walk toward me. His name is Reese Dunn. He believes himself to be dangerous and intimidating."