Chapter 10

“I assumed it was a nickel you threw in the air, Clint, I am so sorry, I will get Sam to replace it as soon—”

Clint laughed, “Don’t you fret none about that Miss Caroline, Ah told yah before, Ah ain’t jus’ workin’ here fer the money, Ah love this life and wouldn’t want to spent mah time doin’ nothin’ else. No, when the time is right, Ah’ll show this ta mah kids an’ grandkids an’ tell ‘em that even after layin’ off shootin’ fer thirty years, she plugged this dollar with her fust shot!”

“Thirty years?”

“Ah beg yah pardon, Miss Caroline, it mus’ be on’y ten years since yah fired a Winchester repeatin’ rifle, when ya wus a bitty kid. Ah dunno what Ah wus thinkin’, Ah bin out on this range so long, countin’ cows in thirties an’ fifties, that Ah’ve lost the ability ta count numbers, Ah reckon. Mebee Ah should inroll in yah school like mah kids.”

“Your children live here?”

“They live with mah wife in Sweetwater township at Ma Baldwin’s boardin’ house in Cross Street, that’s why Sam sends me into town regular so Ah kin get see ‘em all. Ah got ‘em put on that there Charlie Baker’s list soon as he put it up in the gen’ral store!”

“Well, I look forward to meeting them, Clint.”

“In the meantime, Miss Caroline, we won’t say nuthin’ ‘bout yah shootin’ ability, because Ah reckon things are comin’ to a head, an’ any edge we got is worth kept hid ‘til we needs it.”

That night Caroline fell asleep at the Lazy C ranch house, having not had a chance to speak to Samuel about her conversation with the Marshal and his suspicions about Sam rustling cattle from Alice’s mother. With the value of the ranch and his involvement in virtually every business in Sweetwater, she knew that Sam would have no reason to steal from anyone. He was generous in helping the Indians eat through the winter, and Caroline had long ago told him she had no opposition to any decision he made where the ranch’s interest was concerned.

She woke up in her familiar garage. It was Monday morning. Time to give one more chance to her kids, thinking that, if they came with her they would probably be young boys. She loses some thirty years off her age back in Sweetwater, so if they came back with her, the boys may be too young to attend school like Clint’s children. Curious, that in the thirty-odd years since she last fired a Winchester at the Western Enactment Society, she had been 19 or 20, single and still living at home. Counting back, it must have been thirty-three years ago, so Clint’s saying she hadn’t fired a gun in thirty years hadn’t been far out!

While she was waiting for the pot to boil for a cup of tea, the doorbell rang. A bouquet of flowers was waiting for her at the door, delivered by a local florists, with a message from Peter thanking her for Sunday tea. She smiled broadly all through the unwrapping and putting in a vase of water, then called him, but her call went to voicemail.

“Hi Peter,” she spoke into the recording machine, “I just got the flowers, thank you, they are lovely. I’ll text you.”

He was probably working in the hospital. She sent him a text thanking him, including a message that they should do it again and ending with ‘call me’.

Then, with so many pleasant thoughts of the time spent with Peter and the invigorating hope of more, she didn’t really feel like arguing with the boys, or face the hassle of running into her ex-husband again. Determinedly, she switched off the kettle, grabbed her warm blanket and headed for the garage.

“I’m just going to have a word with Sam,” Caroline said to Alice, as she urged her mount Daisy to leave her position riding to the Injun Reservation next to Alice Wells, to take up position next to Sam.

“Hi Sis,” he grinned, “you don’t know how great that sounds to me. Before, when Pa talked about you with that faraway look in his eye, somehow you were a mite unreal. To finally meet you and have you treat me like a brother is ... well, it means more to me than any fancy words that I can find.”

“Me too, brother,” she reached across and squeezed his hand, “I’m not alone in the world any more having you as my brother ... Sam, I wanted to speak to you privately about a conversation I had yesterday with the Marshal.”

“He thinks I’m the rustler.”

“Yes, he does. Are you?”

“Nope. No reason to be. I reckon he spent too much of his so-called investigating time checking out the Lazy C and the Injun village, that I think he was looking for places to move those cows from Cottonwood Pines to Lazy C because the Injuns would spot him miles before reaching the Reservation.”

“You think they are still on Connie Wells’ ranch?”

“They were last week, I’m sure, and I’m even surer that by now they are already on our land somewhere, so that’s why I never said nothing when Clint rode out at first light this morning with all the hands that are supposed to be on a rest day.”

“I suppose nothing much that goes on misses the best rancher in the county, huh?”

“Not much, Sis, ‘specially when I’m half-Injun!” he laughed.

“Sorry I kept that from you, I was hoping to save you from what might have been more stress.”

“I won’t hold it against you, Caroline, I notice a lot of things and work out in my head the explanations to my satisfaction, but I ain’t yet figured out why you and my mother seem to get along like sisters. Don’t tell me yet, though, I don’t have much to do on this ranch except figure things out.”

“Well, my dear, smart brother,” Caroline laughed, “you let me know when you figure it all out.”

“Well, I will, but first, it looks like we have a welcoming committee, Cross Eyed Eagle and Basking Beaver are ahead of us and it looks like they want to parley.”

“Parley?”

“Yes, they’ve set up a small camp and lit a fire, so we need to sit down and make peace. They normally know we’re coming and just escort us in, but not this time. Probably spooked by the Marshal last time we were here.”

“So, do we pass round a peace pipe or something?”

“No pipe of peace, Pa told be that some Injuns do that. Here, we just share round a pot of jelly babies. Pa gave ‘em a set of moulds years ago, long before I was born.”

At the Injun Reservation, Caroline tried to engage Hiding Fox in conversation, while Dove Feather and Sam exchanged their usual warm greetings between mother and son, but the wily Injun wouldn’t look her in the face, muttered something unintelligible about fetching something, and disappeared under the teepee at the back. Caroline shook her head from side to side. Slippery Injun, that Hiding Fox.