Chapter 1

Caleb Winters sat easy in the saddle with his legs out of the stirrups and his spurs removed just to get them out of the way for the remainder of the journey. He seldom used the things except in emergency situations like getting out of the way of some marauding hostiles off the reservation making a general nuisance of themselves in the sparsely populated areas.

His back trail was littered with bodies, but his conscience was clear and he had no lawmen posting wanted posters for his capture and return. His jeans were looking a bit seedy because he was no shakes in sewing or stitching up holes and tears in his limited traveling attire. In fact, he didn’t think there was a single sock without a hole in it somewhere.

Thinking back, he remembered the nice Mormon girl that made a project of cleaning and repairing his clothing the previous winter up Utah way much to the displeasure of her strict-minded father with a beard that made him look like he popped out of a bible.

Her name was Hope and he was smitten the first time he laid eyes on her sitting next to the window with the light coming through and highlighting her beautiful long dark hair. He recollected that she had blushed sensing his eyes undressing her in his mind despite the fact she was covered most modestly from neck to ankle. Those Mormon girls were notorious for being sweet as honey on the outside but wild untamed tigers in the bedroom when the lights went down real low. He didn’t know about Hope being one of those and he never did stay long enough to find out for sure. His suspicion was that she filled that bill from the way she let her tongue slip out every now and then to send him a signal she was biding her time and waiting for him to make a move.

He was sorely tempted to do just that but his experience with the unusual religious cult was that they took such matters real serious and their brand of justice was more ruthless than the savages on the reservation. It was a losing proposition to him because he would lose out on his plans to go to the promised land of Texas before the winter was upon them another time. He was certain the stern-faced father would not want his daughter to go in the arms of an unbeliever and a carrier of weapons even into places of worship.

Fortunately, he managed to run down an unlikely source of real French brandy in a widow’s home that catered to lonely bachelors and transients not confirmed in the Mormon ways.

The widow was not Mormon and neither were her two daughters, but the religious folk let her stay in their settlement because she provided a valuable service that dated back to the beginnings of time immemorial and unlikely to ever cease to exist before the final calling.

The eldest daughter was called Mercy and he thought that was strange because she was the type that showed no mercy to a fellow that lost his stamina in the middle of a happy meeting of the flesh in carnal embrace of the sinful kind.

Caleb had no problem with paying for his pleasure and that was the normal way in the harsh conditions of a country with few females to satisfy the needs of the male populace often driven to violence to relieve their urges. In this case, it turned out that Mercy was a lot more violent than Caleb because she dug her long nails into his backside and scratched his back like a frenzied tigress when he delivered the goods to her private feminine core. She purred like a tiger just as well and clung to him like a vine when he made a move to let her go on with her devices without him to slow her down.

“Please don’t leave yet, Caleb. I promise to make you feel real good again. There are some things I can show you that I bet you haven’t done yet. These Mormons are all so straight and narrow that they don’t even want me to talk when we are doing it. Thank God for the travelers coming through willing to show a girl a good time and let me have it good and proper.”

Caleb hoped he was in that category and allowed it was reasonable to stay a bit longer just for Mercy’s sake.

He was downright tuckered out the next day and he saw the frown on Hope’s pretty face. That was enough to get him organized and packed for moving on and it was probably all for the best because the adventure of Texas was waiting with open arms for him to hit the trail without further delay.

Now he was almost to the Texas border and this raw hastily thrown up boom-town was straddling the newly laid steel rails of the railroad helping move the steers from their western grazing range to the meat-packing factories that would send the tasty beef to the meat hungry masses of immigrants in the Eastern cities. It was either that or let the steers walk off the valued fat of tender cuts and made them too lean and tough for eager taste-buds. The cattle drive trails were rift with danger from rustlers and savages all looking to take their slice of the pie at the expense of the owners and the cowboys that were more expert at herding cattle than shooting from the back of a running horse.

He was almost out of everything and all he could think about was finding some work that would allow him to feed his horse and get it reshod with the metal shoes that kept it mobile over all kinds of harsh terrain.

Caleb saw a long train filled with passengers pull into the plain wooden plank platform.

It looked mostly like settlers and farmers from back east using the railroad instead of making the trip by wagon train with all its dangers and chance of injury or even death. Momentarily, he experienced a pang of regret at leaving Mercy behind in the middle of a whole lot of self-righteous psalm-singers with little inclination to admit their hypocrisy to others.

It was too late now and he needed to focus on the matters at hand and finalize the transfer of the deed for the small ranch he had purchased by mail at a rock bottom price that seemed almost like he was stealing the land. The land survey office confirmed that all of the particulars in his papers were accurate and that there were no hidden liens or other surprises related to the property.

The clerk at the courthouse stamped everything all legal like and he tucked the fresh deed into his inside pocket and saddled up ready to head out to his new home without delay. There was a gaggle of folks at the stable all looking to either rent or buy a buckboard to transport their families to relatives nearby or to one of the smaller settlements where housing and food was a whole lot cheaper and jobs were plentiful. She showed me on the rudimentary map the exact distance to the corner markers and told me that I also had full right of access across the large ranch between my spread and the railroad.

He was also given the bill of sale on four mounts in the stable that transferred with the property as well as a double bench wagon and harness for all four horses. He hitched up his horse to the back of the wagon and loaded supplies from the general store like coffee and flour and bacon. Caleb didn’t like the eyes watching every move he made but it was a free country and people had a right to be looking where they wanted as long as they didn’t make any trouble.

A couple of the heads of household sitting on their luggage on the station platform approached him to inquire if he was interested in selling his rig but he told them he was heading out and needed it for his ranch. He loaded the last of the supplies and looked up to see a young woman standing in front of him with her hands on her hips like she was looking for a fight.

“Do you own this buckboard, mister?”

Caleb looked the girl over and decided she was a lot older than he had thought at first. It was the lines at the corners of her eyes and the fact she was the first woman he had ever seen with a broken nose. Strangely, it didn’t detract from her overall appeal because it was sitting in the middle of the prettiest face he had seen in a long time.

“Sure do, miss, I am heading out to my spread down Laredo way and am fixing to get started right away.”

She looked at him with the bluest eyes he had seen since the last time he had been up close and personal with his fiancée Mary just before the war broke out and they were split up never to meet ever again. He was certainly not welcome below the Mason-Dixon line now and the chance to make amends with his old friends and relatives was as unlikely as snow in July.