Split Trails Ranch

Kids were swirling around the yard, as this was a family affair, and drinking was frowned on. Of course, there were always a few with flasks, but as long as they were discreet and behaved, nothing was said. Conversation pretty much came to a standstill when we entered. Courtney had outdone herself with the dresses, the style from one of the magazines and well above the normal dress one would find on the frontier. They weren't revealing except for a hint of their bust, but they were form fitting and everyone knew there was a good looking woman under it. There was a jeweler in town, and Brad, surprising everyone, got all the girls down to the kids matching cameos. They were quite a sight.

They were immediately mobbed by men asking for dances. They danced, never getting too close, and only once with the ones who got a litttle too friendly. Claire refused to dance with anyone but me, although she did give a waltz to our lawyer and the Marshall. The girls, used to adult company, got tired of being outside and came in, each dragging a little boy along. They pretty much made them dance, guiding them through simple box steps. I danced with each, slow waltzes they seemed to enjoy.

We were having a good time until a young man, son of one of the merchants, decided to dance with Jessica. She danced with him once, the distaste plain on her face. She refused him twice more, and he suddenly cut in, shouldering her partner out of the way. She didn't know what to do so she continued to dance knowing the song was about over. When it ended, he whispered something in her ear. The band had stopped, and you could hear the slap over the whole hall. "How dare you! I know you must be used to associating with whores by the manner of your suggestion, but you obviously don't know how to treat a lady!"

Those close by laughed, making him flame red. I was across the hall like a shot, and got there just as he snarled. "Who do you think you are? We all know your story, you and your brothers were nothing but bums. Then you find someone who dresses you up like a lady. What do you do to show him your gratitude?"

I grabbed his shoulder and snatched him away just in time for the punch Jess aimed at his face to sail by. I knew he was going to have bruises but didn't care in the least. "I'll tell you what she does. She gives me the love of a daughter. Have your parents never taught you manners? If you do not apologize to my daughter this instant, and sound like you mean it, you better have a pistol in your hand the next time I see you, or I'll gun you down like the mangy dog you are. Better yet, we'll just get it over with now. I checked my weapons at the door. Let's collect them and go outside. I'd hate to get blood on this new floor, or have your parents watch you die."

He was getting paler by the second, not used to facing a man in a killing rage. Knowing he was just a hair's breath away from dying, he almost fainted. Three things saved his life, the first was the Marshall, stepping in between us. "Zeke, you need to calm down. Let me handle this."

The next was Claire getting a grip on my arm. "Please, honey, he's not worth it."

The third was his parents showing up. The father was very angry. Besides the deplorable behavior of his son, I was one of his biggest customers, and the thought of losing his son and my business at the same time was very upsetting. The boy, facing two sets of very angry parents and the law, wilted. He almost sobbed out an apology. Apparently he had been drinking, heavily. The Marshall took him by the arm. "I'm taking him down to jail. Maybe a night in the drunk tank will change the way he acts in public."

His mother had tears in her eyes, from the acts of her child and the embarrassment of it happening among their friends. Claire took over, taking the woman by the hand. "Perhaps, Marshall, his mother and I can intervene. Yes, what he did was deplorable, but he's barely past being a child. Maybe being thrown in jail with ruffians would not be in his best interests."

I grunted disdainfully. By the time I was his age I'd been on two trail drives, been shot, and had killed three men, including a Kiowa who wanted to get up close. I had no sympathy. In the end, he was sent home, his father promising him a hiding. I saw him the next day, and he was moving mighty stiffly. I grinned and slapped him on the back really hard, laughing at his squeal of pain. "No more drinking at dances, all right? The next father of a girl you disrespect might not have a good woman to talk him out of killing you. I'm not firmly convinced it's not a good idea still. Stay out of my way, boy, and if I ever see you even glance at my daughters, I'll kill you where I find you. Understand? Good."

I slapped his back again, even harder. "I'm glad we had this talk." I walked off, whistling. I didn't know it at the time, but I'd set off a series of events that would end in death for a lot of people.

Claire pulled me away from the family, snuggling as closely as possible and still be acceptable. "You need to calm down, Zeke. You can't go around killing every jerk who you think disrespects our girls. You'd not have time for more important things, like dancing with me."

She had a point, so I held her more firmly.

We all went to church the next day, and the pastor publicly thanked the ranch for our generous donation. Seems Claire thought a hundred dollars was a good number. Besides, that was what they needed to finish the building. The money off the fundraiser could now be used for primers and slateboards. Jessica and Sabrina had talked about what a good teacher Henri was, and they tried to recruit her as the new schoolmarm. They offered her fifteen a month and board with the preacher. She politely declined, saying maybe later.

The next day, wagons loaded, we departed. I think while it was fun, we were all anxious to go home.

We stopped to pick up Sabrina's horse. She thought we were there to pick up the horses we bought, and it was worth the secrecy to see the look on her face when they led the little chestnut out, saddled and ready to mount. "It's from both of us," I told her, even though Claire had no idea. "After all, if one daughter has a horse, the other one needs one too."

Claire smiled and hugged me later for including her. "I wasn't wrong. If you had known, you would have been all for it. it just happened long before we came to town and were a cou..." I caught myself and finished up lamely, "a couple of parents."

She smiled, knowing exactly what I was going to say and hugged me again. My little fellow liked the hugs, and she could see it when we broke. She just smiled a little bigger and walked off.

I still rode point, often with Claire by my side, but now we had two litte shadows instead of one. Jess wore her pistol, and Sabrina wore hers, even if she was uncomfortable with it. While good weapons, they had complicated mechanisms, and sometimes failed. I had the gunsmith go over Jessica's while we were in town. He was a master gunsmith and made a few modifications, stronger springs and that sort of thing, to both weapons. I was going to make a point of having them checked every time we went on a supply run. I knew Jess would take Sabrina out and get her comfortable with her weapon. After all, what good would it be if she didn't know how to use it? Jess was a little jealous of Sabrina's shotgun, but was really pleased with her little rifle.

Claire had chosen a Remington like mine, a fancy model in nickel plate with Ivory handles. It was still an accurate weapon, no matter how fancy it looked. Since she chose to ride, she wore her's in a cross draw holster. It occurred to me Mr. Herman was making a small fortune off me. It was worth every dime though, if it made the girls safe. Both wagons had shotguns close at hand, in case of trouble.

We got home, and it took half a day to unload the wagons. Some of the hands were around, and they were keen to help, to see what we had purchased. Some had sent requests with the girls, and if possible they got what they asked for. The hands that went with us bragged about the good time that was had by all. One man was surprised that they hadn't gotten the ammo he'd requested. A 45/90 was a massive load, designed to hunt buffalo. I handed him three boxes with an explanation. "If you work for me, I supply the ammunition. I'm assuming you're good with this, so from now on part of your duties will be supplying fresh meats for our table. I expect to be chowing down on fresh elk and deer this fall. Maybe a bear or two, they make damn fine sausage. If you want to plug a wolf or two to keep in practice, feel free." Tom was grinning like crazy when he walked off.

I had all the ladies out at an improvised shootin' range the next day, to make sure they could handle the shotguns. They squealed at the recoil the first few times, but in an hour all could hit a mansized target consistently. Sabrina was the best with her little .410, shooting slugs because I couldn't get buckshot in that size. After half an hour, she blew the head off a target. I thought it was a fluke until she did it twice more. "Stop showing off!" She just grinned.

I had the girls switch over to pistols. Claire was pretty good, as was Henri. Paris was all right, but I decided if Courtney ever took aim at me with a six gun, the best thing I could do was stand still. She couldn't hit the wall with a handful of rocks even if she was inside. Still, if it came to everybody shooting, every bullet could count. I talked it over with Claire, and if push come to shove and they had to defend the house, she could relodd while the others shot. That was going to be my designation for the girls, but that blew up pretty fast.

Jess palmed her little Lightning, putting four shots dead center and the last just to one side. Sabrina didn't fast draw, but once she got it out she was pretty good. Then Jess took her little rifle and started shooting pine cones off a tree a hundred yards away. Hells bells, I had never been able to shoot that good.

It had been quiet for months, but I wasn't about to get complacent. Bud and Carlos still roamed the hills, ghosting around without being seen, reporting everything. It seems there was a permanent camp in the Southwest corner of our spread, a barn, bunkhouse, and corrals. They didn't get close, but saw a lot of cattle, very few of them with our brand. I thought this over for a little while, and wrote the U.S. Marshall I'd met a long letter, which included the brands on cattle Bud had recorded as they scouted. Actually I sent three letters, one by the post office in town, giving others to riders passing through going in different directions, to be mailed at distant towns. I didn't know it for sure, but I figured we were being watched. If we were, they were good, because Bud and Carlos never found any sign.

I had taken Claire with me to see the Army Quartermaster in charge of cattle, driving ten head with us as an example. He was impressed enough to ask how many we could deliver. "Four hundred, maybe more. We can deliver around the same amount next year, if our beef is satisfactory."

He struck a deal on the spot, giving us slightly more than we expected, and we signed the contract. We had forty days to deliver. It was time for a roundup.

The crew was excited. It would only take about ten days to gather the cattle and twenty days to deliver them, but it would break the monotony of daily life. The girls were excited, until I told them only Claire and the little ones would be going. "I'm leaving Bud and Bill, along with a few hands we can trust. If whoever is working the South of our ranch finds out we're gone, he may try something. I need you to be on your guard, besides the ranch four good lookin' women are a pretty tempting target. Besides, you got a wedding to plan."

Bud had finally proposed to Sissy, and she screamed, running through the house and waving her hand. It wasn't a big diamond, but it was the most precious thing she had ever received. Between what she made as cook and part time housekeeper and what Bud made, they would be all right. Our wedding present would be a little house, five hundred acres, six horses, and forty cows, with two bulls. They were over the moon, and we knew if we did this it would bind them to us for life.

We proceeded with the roundup, drifting the cattle back to the old range, now mostly recovered. It would only be for a few days, so it wouldn't set it back any. It would be another two years before it would be fully recovered and I cussed Jack Benson every time I looked at it. We were as far South as we had ever been, and noticing a lot of cows that didn't have our brand on them. We'd cut them out and haze them a few miles, sending them off our range. We were eating breakfast one morning when Carlos drifted in. "Riders coming, maybe eighteen or twenty. They don't look friendly, boss."

We immediately spread out. I felt like I had a loyal crew now, and I didn't want to lose anybody. Four of the men had shotguns in their hands. Brad had settled back against the wagon, The revolving Colt by his side. I hadn't managed to locate another one as they had stopped making them in 1863 and were pretty rare. Mr. Herman had done wonders reworking the old gun, and it was as smooth as silk and as deadly as a rattler in the blind. Carlos rode off a ways, stopping behind a little hill. I knew he'd be at the top of it, looking at us through rifle sights. Our hunter went with him, taking his buffalo gun. I'd seen Tom score a hit on a wolf at 500 yards, the target so far away I could barely make it out.

It looked to be a pretty salty crew. They didn't follow range custom, riding straight in instead of pulling up a few yards away and hailing the camp, asking permission to enter. They just sat there, waiting for us to say something. When it became evident we weren't going to, one spoke. "You boys are a little off your range, ain't ya? Maybe you'd like to mosey on back to your ranch."

I stepped up. "This is my range, mister. At least according to the deed. Might I inquire why you think different?"

"Aw, now, ever body knows we leased it from Buck. Go on now, before we think you want trouble."

I grinned, which bothered him. "I don't recall seeing any lease in any of the papers I found, and the lawyer in town nor the banker ever spoke of it. It sounds more like you had a verbal agreement with a past owner. Buck's dead, I'm the majority owner, and I'm not inclined to lease any of my range. If you ain't the boss, you might want to go tell him that. And tell him he's got two weeks to get any cow that don't have my brand on it off my range."

His eyes narrowed. "Them's strong words, mister. What if we ain't inclined to move?"

"Then I'll bury you where I find you."

"Careful mister. There's eight more of us than there are of you."

"Well then, that just means there's enough for everybody. You pull in your horns and go on back to your boss."

"If I don't?"

"Then draw now. I'm done talking."

"We'll kill you, you bastard!"

I shot him, right in the brisket. The others tried pulling their weapons, but the gunfire had spooked the horses, and they were dancing around. Brad's shotgun boomed three times, hitting men and horses alike. My people had their weapons out, and we heard the boom of the buffalo rifle just after one man looked like he just blew up, the big slug cutting him half in two. Ninety seconds later it was over. Of the eighteen bracing us, five were dead and another six wounded. It was a pretty safe bet three wouldn't live long. The rest were holding up their hands, the fight gone out of them. I looked around, and three of my men were down. Two of them would never get up, one of them an eighteen year old younster who never had a bad word for anybody.

"You made your point mister. We'll just go on back and tell the boss what you said."

"Like hell you will. We passed a grove of oaks a few miles back. We're going to ride back, nice and slow. I'm sure they're enough strong limbs to accomdate everybody."

They paled. One looked like he was going to throw up. The self appointed spokesman tried to talk me out of it. "Look mister, we was just following orders. You beat us fair and square. Why don't you just let us go?"

I sighed. "My Pa didn't give me much advice, but one nugget remains with me to this day. He said 'Son, don't ever leave a live rattler behind you. Kill it, so it don't get you on your way back.' You came here with one goal. Buffalo us or kill us, whatever it took. Two good men are dead because of you assholes, men you're not even fit to breathe the same air with. No, you don't get to negotiate. Tie 'em up, boys."

Two tried to make a break for it. One went down when Bill tossed a rope, tangling up the front legs of the horse. The other almost got away before the big buffalo gun boomed again. He slid off while the horse continued at full speed. I had one of the boys go out and drag him back. We strapped the dead across their horses and tied the living to their saddles.

It was a somber group that rode into the trees. I'd left most of the men back at camp, to guard the cattle. I had Bill, Carlos, Brad, and Bud. Nooses were formed from their own ropes.

"Any of you got something to say, now's the time. If you need to write a letter, we'll let you, but then we're going to hang you."

Two remained silent, so we did them first. The others got to watch them kick and jerk until the life went out of them. and they swayed gently back and forth. Three wanted to write letters. I gave them all a pencil and some pages from my tally book. Two were brief, but one was five pages long. It seemed he needed to ask forgiveness from a lot of people.

I hanged them next. I made sure the survivors looked. One youngster looked like he was gonna pass out. He asked me to send the contents of his saddlebags to the address he furnished. "My wife," he said, sadly, "and my little girl." The picture fluttered to the ground. I picked it up. A plain, stern looking woman, her hand on the shoulder of a little girl, and it shocked me how much the girl looked like Sabrina at a younger age. "Tell them I went out with dignity, that I didn't beg or cry. Tell them I never stopped loving them, even after the poor choices I made."

The rest did cry and beg, even as we swatted their horses. I waited until the last corpse stopped swinging before I spoke to the man with the family. "Your daughter looks a lot like mine. I'm gonna give you one chance, mister. You tell me everything you know about the man who's operating on my range, and I mean everything you can think of. If I think you're telling the truth I'll let you go. If I do, go far and fast. If I ever see you again I'll kill you."

He couldn't get it out fast enough. It seems the big boss, Butch Kramer, had been operating out of the ranch ever since Buck had purchased the place. They had a deal where Buck would fence about fifty cattle at a time, and give the money to Butch. Butch would give him 25% as an incentive to keep doing business. That's probably where the side account came into play.

Butch was top dog to about half a dozen gangs. They brought him the cattle, he'd pay them a quarter on the dollar, fatten them up on my range, and alter the brand if he could. At any given time there could be as many as forty men in his stronghold, a box canyon that was fortified and guarded. The man estimated there were probably no more than a dozen there now, since we had wiped out most of his men. He mentioned another man they called Preacher, some kind of deranged asshole who railed against women who thought they were equals to men. He usually had a couple of dozen with him when he rode, all armed to the teeth and prone to kill anyone they ran into. Butch bought a lot of horses with blood still on them.