Chapter 5

SPLIT TAILS RANCH, PART 5

She didn’t realize she was holding my hand until the girls came running up to us. They stopped and stared before breaking into huge grins. She looked down, flushed to the roots of her hair, and let go. It just wasn’t done in the day and time, especially if the woman was newly widowed. It especially wasn’t done with the man who had killed her husband.

She was expected to wear black in mourning for a year, but she steadfastly refused. “To do so would honor the bastard, and that’s not going to happen.” As a compromise she wore muted brown and dark blues. It didn’t matter, because she looked spectacular in everything she wore.

The girls stopped staring and blurted out what they were going to tell us. “We’ve been thinking. We both have a Daddy now, but we don’t have a mother. I know she’s your sister and I’m a stranger, but we’d like to call you mother, or Momma? May we?”

Tears sprang into her eyes, and she knelt, opening her arms. They piled in, giving her a tremendous hug. When they finally broke, Sabrina smiled. “Is it all right then? We call you Momma?”

“That would please me greatly, my babies. I, in turn will introduce you from now on as my daughters. Now come, my children, and escort us back to the hotel. We have news.”

We walked sedately down the boardwalk. Claire had the girls firmly under her arms, and they were hugging her every chance they got. I enjoyed the view greatly. The moment was broken by the sound of a strident and jarring voice.

“Zeke Walters! I heard you was in town! Why ain’t you been to see me yet?”

There she was, the whore that had started the whole series of events that led me to where I am now. She was almost sedately dressed, carrying a couple of boxes. Whores are people too, I guess, and they sometimes walked the street, visiting the stores. They weren’t always welcomed but they were tolerated. Claire took one look and sent the children to gather everyone in the lobby.

“Miss Delilah,” I said in acknowledgement. I looked over at Claire, surprised to see her grinning. That couldn’t be good.

“Honey, where are your manners? Introduce us.” ‘Honey?’, where did that come from? I liked the sound of it though.

“Miss Delilah, this is Claire Benson of the Split Trails Ranch, my business partner. Miss Claire, this is Miss Delilah, a local ... business person.”

Claire actually shook her hand. “It appears I must thank you madam. Apparently you are the thing my husband valued enough to lose his life over, leaving me free to live mine. I think I came out ahead, do you not agree? Oh, and I think I can speak for Zeke here when I say he won’t be requiring your services anytime soon.” She put her hand possesively on my arm to drive home her point.

This was indeed a strange conversation, one I wanted to end quickly. I note Delilah looked like she had aged five years in the weeks since I’d seen her, but that could be because I was seeing her in the daylight through sober eyes. She’d lost a tooth, right in front, and had the remnants of two black eyes. Disappointed customer, I’d wager.

Delilah couldn’t resist. “There’s always next time, Zeke. Perhaps you won’t be as distracted then.”

The steel in Claire’s voice came through. “There will be no next time. Zeke has his hands full running the ranch and seeing to the needs of four attractive women and raising two daughters. I’m sure he’ll have fond memories of your time together, but that part of his life is over. Isn’t that right, Zeke?”

“Yes dear,” I said, trying to hide my grin. “I will remember you fondly, Delilah. You’re the reason I’m where I’m at today. Please accept this as a token of my gratitude.” I held out a twenty dollar gold eagle, more than she could make in a week in her profession. She didn’t hesitate to take it, running her hand over my palm.

“If you ever change your mind...”

I thought fire would shoot out of Cliare’s eyes, as she snatched my hand back. “I’m quite sure he won’t! Good day, Miss Delilah.”

She practically dragged me down the street. “What was that all about?”

She rolled her eyes. “Men are idoits. My husband was, you are, I’m sure all your male relatives have impared reasoning. I guess I need to draw you a picture. We’ll be having that discussion after the dance.”

She let go of me just before we got to the hotel, stalking regally into the lobby. Our crowd was gathered, wondering what the news was.

“There is to be a dance tonight, a fundraiser for the local school building. We have been invited to attend. Men, make sure your suits are clean, your boots polished, and make sure you shave. Girls, with me. We must prepare.”

Brad and I grinned. We were pretty good dancers, our mother instructing us in the social graces expected of a young gentleman. The rest of our crew were in good shape. Jessica wanted to learn to dance, and it seems Courtney could play the piano, so we spent two nights a week teaching her and Sabrina, and taking turns with the rest of the ladies. Bud and Sonny had no clue, but they patiently walked them through, even though they had bruised toes the first week. Bud tended to partner with Sissy, and they moved well together.

The hands could hear the piano, and one told Brad he was classically trained, but hadn’t touched a piano in years. Brad told Courtney, and she immediately confronted him when he came in, odering him to the parlor when he was cleaned up. She let him noodle on the days we weren’t practicing until he got his skills back.

Claire surprised us all by having the piano moved out onto the wraparound porch on Thursdays. The hands would come in, eat, and gather in the yard as Wilhelm played. He’d come with his parents from Hamburg when he was a child, and sitll had a trace of an accent. He would play for awhile, and then Courtney would take over. When they played waltzes, I would gather up Claire and spin her across the yard. Bud would dance with Sissy, showing off his skills. Brad usually had Henrietta or Paris. Carlos would get out his guitar, surprisingly knowing a few of the classical pieces. Then he would play a few Spanish songs, singing in his high clear tenor. He taught Henri a few of the milder Spanish dances, and they would show us all up as they flew through the steps. Jessica and Sabrina would drag the cowboys out, making them dance. Some were pretty awful.

The second week Courtney made an announcement. “Gentlemen, it has come to me that some of you cannot dance. As representatives of this ranch, you are expected to be competent in all skills, so tonight, we start lessons. You do not have to particpate, but when we go to barn dances, do you really want to be the ones sitting on the sides while your partners are twirling some pretty young thing across the floor? Now, those who want to learn step up.”

They formed a line. Not one refusing. It was pretty funny at first, but soon enough they got the hang of it. Thursday night became a big thing. Sissy and the girls would prepare an extra good meal, the boys would clean up, line up, and the music would start. We would be done by nine, as everybody needed their sleep. I noticed the crew seemed to be a lot neater than before, and seemed a more closeknit group. I said as much to Claire.

“Zeke, you’re a good man, and there’s not a lot you don’t know about cattle. But you’re a man, and you don’t really consider everything else. That’s why you need us. We’ll keep the crew balanced, make sure they understand they belong here. You have to admit, things have run a lot more smoothly since we got involved. If nothing else, you’ll have the best dancers in the territory. It’s why I send the girls out with snacks. Everything we do binds them to us tighter, makes them more loyal. Some of the boys just stayed to watch you fail. That’s not working out so well for them, is it?”

I wanted to kiss her right then, in gratitude. In honesty, I had begin wanting to kiss her in ways that had nothing to do with gratitude. Claire was a fine figure of a woman. She’d lost her girlish figure, and the only word I can think of to describe her is lush. Her body was very well rounded, a really nice bust tapering to a narrow waist before flaring out into a very nice bottom. As nice as her body was, I was attracted to her mind just as much. In all my life, I don’t think I ever met a smarter person. Many of the things implemented came fom her, and they almost always improved life on the ranch.

Not that the others didn’t have ideas. They always followed Claire’s lead, and little Sabrina even came up with one that pleased the ladies no end. She came to me one day, holding a book, almost stuttering in excitement. Jess and she seemed to be joined at the hip, if you saw one, you saw the other. She finally got tired of her stuttering.

“Sabrina! Calm down. Show Daddy what you found.”

It was a history book. I had a system in place. If anyone could find reading material and bring it to the house, I gave them a bonus. It didn’t matter if the newspaper was two months old, we always found something worth remembering in it. I paid a premium for books and magazines. This book came from an engineer who had gone broke. I bought his whole collection, thinking they would never get read. Sabrina and Jessica had a habit of reading everything at the urging of Henri, to improve their skill and expose them to things they couldn’t find in a primer. They roared through everything, dazzling us with information at the dinner table.

She finally got her voice to work. “Daddy, could we please build this?”

The book turned out to be on ancient plumbing techniques. One chapter dscribed in detail how the Romans heated their houses with hollow ceramic pipes that ran through the floor of every room, the heat being pushed through the pipes by natural invection. I filed that away for later. What she wanted me to look at was a bath system based on waterfalls. The water was piped in to an overhead tank, and could be heated by the sun or a small furnace. A person stood under the tank and pulled a chain, that released the water through small holes in a large spout. It was kind of like standing in the rain, except the rain was warm. It beat the heck out of having to heat massive amounts of water for their Saturday night baths.

I told the girls to say nothing, and got our resident carpenter in on it. We ordered a couple of galvanized stock tanks and all the piping we would need. There was a small waterfall about a half of a mile frm the house. We set a series of pipes to convey the water to the tanks, in a spot that got full sun. The first tank was usually warmer, and as the water level dropped, the second tank filled it. You usually had about two hundred gallons before the water got cold.

We built a bathhouse under the tanks, including a changing room and a cupboard for towels. The floor was concrete with a small drain set into the middle, the waste water going into a holding pond. The water usually evaporated in the summer. Paul rigged up the heads from four watering cans I’d found, so it really was like standing in a warm rain.

The girls got to try it first, and I grinned listening to them laugh and play. They probably used up all the water in the first tank playing, but it was worth it. Since I was the only one around, they came out in their petticoats, carrying their clothes. Sabrina was only eleven, still a child, but Jessica was starting to get a woman’s shape. She was going to be a real heartbreaker when she got older. I had a vision of lovestruck boys mooning around. They shimmied into their riding skirts and blouses, then ran to me. The hugs and kisses flew, and the time and expense was worth it just to see their happy faces.

We rode up to the house later, and I gathered the women. “Sabrina has found a way to make our lives better, and I followed her suggestion. She will tell you what you will need. Please follow her without question, all will be revealed when you get there.”

They were buzzing with excitement, wondering what was going on. They gathered a change of clothes, and we rode out to what I called the bathhouse. Once they understood what it was the clothes flew in the changing room. I sat under a tree on watch, listening to the squeals and laughter. To save water, they bathed two at a time. They came out, all but Claire, hair shining from the products Sabrina had me buy. No lye soap for my girls, no sir.

They all gave me hugs and kisses on my cheek. Henrietta seemed the most grateful. “You know, I hated you for a while. But then I found out how my brother was. I think I always knew, but refused to admit it. You’re probably the best thing that ever happened to us.”

Then she planted a kiss on my lips, and it wasn’t exactly what you would call sisterly. I looked up to see Claire, frowning. I was shocked to see her in her pantaloons. I had to revise my opinion of her body. It was beyond stunning. She slammed the door, obviously pissed.

I saw a lot of butt kissing in my future. Then I got a vision of being able to actually kiss her butt, and got even more flustered.

All this happened about two months after the first time we all went to town. I realized of all the girls, the only one I could see was Claire. I was a little confused, wondering if she could stand a life with the man who killed her husband. She was sending out subtle little signs, a touch here, a kiss on the cheek there, always when we were alone or with just the girls.

I grinned, thinking back to the dance. The girls were dressed to the nines, even Jess and Sabrina. We were at least presentable in our cleaned suits, hair slicked back, boots shining. The dance was just a short walk, and we strolled along, the girls chattering happily, the guys grinning because they were in such good company. Claire had her hand on my arm, and each of the girls had a hand. We made a pretty good looking family, in my opinion.

The room was huge and getting a little crowded. There was punch and little nibbles on a table, and a band consisting of a guitar, a mandolin, and a fiddle. There was a piano in the corner, but no one knew how to play it. I was sure Courtney would be sitting in front of it before the night was out. Wilhelm was one of the lucky ones, and I knew he’d be spelling her. They had dressed up as best they could, wearing what Courtney called their ‘company shirts.’ She’d made one for every man on the ranch, bright red, double breasted with brass buttons. The name of the ranch was embrodried on one breast, their first name on the other. The girls told me they’d done that because a lot of them were the same size, and they didn’t want squabbles to break out. They’d gotten red scarves to match on their own. They cut quite a figure, especially when it became known they all knew how to dance. There was a lot of jealous cowboys that ended up watching while our bunch monopolized the ladies.

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, 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, 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 things, 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 the 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 stainless steel and 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. 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 yu’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!”

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 is 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. 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 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 750 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 the camp. 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.”