Chapter 2B

Molly had been watching her son and the two girls while she was preparing the drinks. They had almost never visited her before. They had no reason. Molly understood the allure a young man like Emerson could have and was proud of him.She allowed herself the luxury of daydreaming. It would be wonderful if one of these two girls were her daughter-in -law. They both were beautiful and came from such good families. That they were attracted to Emerson, she had no doubt. How could they not be? He had grown into a handsome, intelligent, rugged young man.

Emerson had taken his injured shoulder from the shirt and sat on the top step. All three women gathered around him, inspecting the gash and Maria's handywork. It was red, but appeared to be healing already.

"Now, look at this." Maria had placed her finger next to the small scar on Emerson's chest. "That was a Christmas present a year ago!" Maria was curious to see how the others would react.

Molly gasped. "Emerson, I never heard about that. How bad was it? How did it happen? I can't imagine it not being very serious. You were shot in the chest!"

"Mother, I am fine now. That is the important thing." Emerson stood as he spoke. He was directly in front of Maria, and as their eyes met, he scolded her. "Maria, I know you don't want my mother to be upset. This scar seems to do that, so let's not make an issue of it. You don't want me to beat you worse than Hogan did."

"Emerson, if you think you scare me, forget it. I know you won't lay a finger on me, at least not without my permission. Save your threats for Hogan. I'm here right now, so beat me," Maria laughed. "I know you too well. However, I won't bring the scar up again, just to be nice."

Cathy and Molly were laughing as well. "It looks like she has your number, Cowboy. You look tough to some people, but Maria isn't frightened. Scaring women isn't your strong point."

The girls finished the drinks Molly had produced and mounted their horses. Molly was reluctant to see them leave.

"You girls have to stop in more often. It is so nice to have someone to talk and laugh with. Promise you'll be back."

"Molly, as long as that good looking son of yours is around, you'll have all kinds of company. I know I'll be back!" Cathy admitted.

"Molly, we enjoyed your company and really don't need some banged-up cowboy to lure us over here. We'll visit again," Maria assured Molly.

As the girls rode, Cathy asked Maria, "Did you almost feint when Emerson was looking at your bruised cheek? I thought you were going to pass out!"

"Cathy! You are so observant. I did get a little weak, and I dislike myself for it. I know how a moth feels about the flame now. He does something to me. You saw that."

"I sure did. Maybe you could fill me in on 'the old days'. You seem to be a lot more open about Emerson now."

"He was always very good looking, although he has gotten even better. We were thrown together a lot as kids. It is a small town. He always teased and picked on me for being part Spanish. I wanted to believe it was to get my attention, but his father was a very prejudiced man, of little accomplishment. Gradually, I began to feel he was quite serious about my heritage and that I wasn't as good as he was."

"When his mother and Miguel became engaged, years after his father had been killed in a fight in a cantina, I rubbed it in. I probably went too far. He accused 'my people' of doing anything to become American, as if we weren't already. It really stung me. Then he attacked Miguel in the dinning room of the hotel and was arrested. The marshal agreed to release him if he would go live with his uncle. I never got to talk to him before he left. I had hoped he would apologize for his comments, and I would have gladly done the same. He never wrote to me or anything."

"Now he is back. I'm afraid it looks like I pined for eight years, just waiting for the world traveler to return. He saw all kinds of places and people, including women, while I sat in Morgantown. Everyone will think I was a desperate woman, including Emerson. I'm afraid I could lose all pride when I am around him. Then I say and do mean spirited things to him to save my ego."

"Cathy, I don't know what to think or feel. I have a deep fear that this is going to cause pain and embarrassment for me. I don't want to go through that again."

Cathy had listened as Maria told her story. She had not realized how much Maria had been affected by Emerson and his departure. When Maria finished her confession, Cathy tried to comfort her.

"Maria, I didn't guess how deep this was. I can see exactly why you are afraid of your feelings. You must have been pretty miserable for a long time when he left. I always wondered why you were so cool to all the fellows that tried to get close to you over the years. I thought you were waiting for someone special. I never realized you already had met him and he was gone."

"You be careful, but give Emerson a chance. He seems to regret the things he said and did to you. He was incredible when Hogan tore your shirt! If you hadn't stopped him, he might have killed Hogan. My guess is the guy is head-over-heels in love with you, and always has been. Just take it slow and see if he proves himself to you. I'll help any way I can."

Maria had tears in her eyes when she faced Cathy. "You are the best friend I could ever have! I think I may need your help getting this straightened out. I am so confused. Thanks, Cathy."

Molly was giving Emerson motherly advice. "Emerson, you should marry one of those girls. They like you, and why isn't that a surprise? They are lovely and from good families."

"Mother, I know they are. The thing is, they may not feel I am. You are wonderful, of course. It's just that Dad wasn't everything he might have been. Will people hold that against me?"

"Emerson, your father was from a good family. He was spoiled as a child and lacked direction. He took the easy way out of everything. You aren't like that. I have seen the difference already. So have those girls. You should be proud. Look how you have turned out."

Emerson knew his mother was partial, but a compliment was always nice. "Thanks, Mother. I hope I can live up to expectations."

He then explained that he had to get back and help the others. Molly returned to her chores in the house. Going to his bunk, Emerson pulled out his war bag and removed a pair of holstered colts and put them on. Maria was correct in thinking things would get worse and he needed to be prepared. Emerson also realized that carrying a gun could require shooting someone, but others depended on him and he never was one to avoid responsibility.

The next few days were some of the longest and most satisfying Emerson had ever put in. They were in the saddle before sunup and didn't stop until full dark. Emerson had discussed the need for more riders to trail the herd and several of the ranchers had agreed to hire a few that always hung around town looking for work. On the morning of the fourth day, Emerson saw riders approaching as he worked with his crew.

Vern Jordan and Pat Casey rode close to Emerson and stopped their mounts. Pat Casey spoke, "Emerson, we can't get anybody to ride for us. It seems that Tom Taylor needed more hands and hired every available man in the area. I'm worried that we won't have enough to handle the size trail herd we'll be taking."

Jordan added, "Not only that but Joe Mauro, the only hand Pat had kept on, quit and went to work for Taylor. Bob is better and helping, and Cathy is doing a man's job so we'll be ready, but Pat is right about the drive. We're going to be a few men short, at least."

Emerson listened to the ranchers then formed his reply. "I didn't realize to what extent Taylor would go to ruin the ranchers in this basin. What he did is low, but certainly legal. We will simply make the drive with the riders we have. It'll mean more work, and possibly poorer time, but it can be done. Again, I see no choice."

The three conferred, and then Casey and Jordan rode back to resume the preparations for the drive. Emerson saw the men look at the guns he now wore, but neither mentioned it. He was gloomier than he let on to his neighbors. This would be a difficult trip at best. Undermanned, it could be next to impossible.

Emerson decided to ride into town and see for himself what the atmosphere was. Riding over to Shorty, he explained his intentions.

"I noticed you started packing iron the other day, but only found out about that battle with Hogan yesterday, when I ran into Tom Gordon. You are kinda reluctant to talk about yourself and I appreciate that. It seems to me that we are all in this and should know what the situation is all the time. If Taylor has toughs throwing weight around, I should be prepared. That is my lecture for the day," and Shorty became silent.

"You have a good point. I didn't want everyone to worry, but you can't go around blind either. My mistake, Shorty," grinned Emerson. "It won't happen again."

"I'm glad that's settled." Shorty smiled back. This man was hard to dislike! "I'll ride in with you. We're about done and you seem to attract lightening and might need a man to side you."

Marshal Sam Cook had held his job for ten years. He knew he had lasted for two reasons. He didn't have much trouble to handle, and he was fair to everyone. He was on the far side of fifty and had hoped to finish his career in this town he had come to call his own.

He saw Emerson and Shorty ride in. He missed the fight with Hogan and Lang earlier in the week, but had heard plenty about it. Few western men would stand for a woman to be mistreated and Sam was no exception. He wondered if he could have handled the situation if he hadn't been out at Slick's listening to a story about some missing chickens. A few townspeople implied he had been lucky to be somewhere else, and to himself, he agreed.

He had held Emerson in his jail overnight, eight years ago. Some men held grudges over things like that. Would Emerson? Sam decided to take the direct route and met Emerson as he dismounted at the hotel.

"Emerson Trask, I'm Marshal Cook. You probably remember me. Last time you spent a night in this town you were my guest." Sam Cook stood on the walk and waited for Emerson's reaction.

"Marshal, it's good to see you! Sure I remember that night. You did me a good turn and I thank you for it. It could have been a lot worse. When I had time to think back on it, I realized you were really quite easy on me." Emerson smiled and extended his hand.

Sam Cook felt relief and wonder at the same time. "You're about the first person I ever had thank me for putting them in jail. I don't think I would relish trying to do it now." He took Emerson's hand and shook it.

"I heard about the job you did on Hogan and Lang. They got what they had coming, although there aren't many that could administer that lesson." The lawman continued, "Things are coming to a head around here and I'm asking you to avoid trouble if you can."

Emerson faced the marshal, "I never look for trouble, but I have found it pays to be ready for it. I heard Taylor has hired all available hands in the area. Is that true?"

"Yeah, that seems to be the case. He covers every angle and legally, so far. He's a pillar of the community," replied Cook with sarcasm.

"Shorty and I won't be very long. We have a lot to do. I thought we would look around and see if there are any riders we could hire. That shouldn't cause any trouble, so rest easy, marshal." Emerson then went to the hotel bar, with Shorty close behind.

Tom Taylor had been livid when he learned Hogan and Lang had been bested by Emerson Trask. Hogan had gone straight to the bunkhouse but Logan and Gately reported to the ranch house.

"How could you be so stupid? When Trask got the upper hand his position was strengthened. In effect, you helped him. That was the opposite of what you were supposed to accomplish. Can't you do anything right?" ranted Taylor at his gunmen.

"Don't push too hard, boss." Lang spoke softly, but something in his manner worried both Red and Taylor. "I took a man too lightly and I paid for it, but not like he'll pay. I take your money but never think you have the right to talk down to me!'

Taylor backed off, "I didn't mean anything by it, Lang. I'm just concerned about this situation and my plans. How and when do you expect to make him pay, as you put it?"

"I never saw anyone that could handle a gun like me, so I'll stay out of his reach and shoot the bastard!" Lang vowed. "This will be one job I'll enjoy."

Taylor smiled. "It seems to be a pretty basic plan. It won't come back to me. Everyone knows there is bad blood between you two. It will be two men settling a grudge. We can make it work. A few may suspect you were sent after Trask, but nothing can be proven. Have Red and Stan side you. They can be witnesses and take care of any outside interference while you take care of Trask. Just do it before the trail drive starts."

Lang had watched the road into town for several days. He was certain the Trask would show up eventually. His patience was finally rewarded. Along with Mosher and Red, he headed for the showdown he had promised himself.

Emerson drank a beer and asked the barkeep about riders. His response confirmed Sam Cook's remarks. Next, he and Shorty stopped at the mercantile, with the same results. There would be no hands available for the drive.

"We may as well head back to the ranch, Shorty. We're wasting time here." Emerson led the way out and turned toward the horses in front of the hotel. There he stopped.

Standing in the street in front of Emerson was Lang, a smile on his face. Red was along the hotel on the left and, off to the right was Stan Mosher. Emerson and Shorty were boxed in.

"If you're looking for jobs, keep looking." Emerson felt his nerves tighten as he spoke. "If you're looking for boot hill, start the ball!"

Lang was surprised. He expected fear. He always saw fear when he faced a man over guns. This man looked eager, ready to fight. He wore two guns tied down low and he stood still, watching Lang.

"This is between you and me, Trask. No man uses his fists on me and gets away with it. I'm here to kill you." Lang was bent at the waist staring at Emerson's hands.

"That's fine with me, Lang, but if Red and the weasel don't leave right now I'll have to consider them backing you." Emerson smiled back at Lang. "That means I'll shoot them as soon as I take care of you.".

It was a tight corner and Emerson wanted to create doubt. A man in a gunfight had to believe he would win. With any doubt, a man was more apt to hurry or miss. In this situation, Emerson knew he needed any advantage he could get.

"Boss," it was Shorty. "I never cottoned much for Red. I'll take care of him. I'm giving you the other two." He said it loud enough for Red to hear.

Emerson stood in the street facing Lang. "Give it up, Lang. It doesn't have to end like this." Even as he said it, Emerson knew it could end no other way. Lang pulled his gun.

Lang had confidence. When he started his draw he was looking at the button he would shoot on Trask's shirt. No one could give him a public beating and live! Then as his gun was leveling he saw the flash from Emerson's left gun and he was knocked backward, his own gun kicking up dirt in the street. As he tried to bring his gun back in line, Lang saw Emerson's right gun blossom flame. He sensed Mosher had been hit. To his right, Red was firing. Lang felt another blow and began to fall, again shooting into the ground. This wasn't possible. Could he have been beaten? That was his last thought.

Emerson knew he would have to depend on Shorty to take Red out of the action and concentrated on the remaining gunmen. He pulled both his guns, first shooting Lang and then firing his right gun into Mosher. Switching back to Lang he shot again, seeing blood stain the front of his shirt as Lang went down. Turning back to Mosher, he saw him laying on his back, the top of his head bloodied.

Emerson realized Shorty and Red were no longer shooting and turned his attention to Red. He was on his knees, bent over holding his stomach. As Emerson watched, Red collapsed on his face.

Turning to Shorty, Emerson saw him sitting on the ground, his left leg bloodied. "I guess it was a good thing I sided you today, Emerson. Three men might have been too much, even for you." Shorty was going into shock and bleeding badly. Men began to emerge from buildings along the street. Sam Cook was hurrying toward them as Emerson worked at stopping the bleeding in Shorty's leg. Someone volunteered to get the doctor.

"What in Hell happened here?" roared Cook with his gun drawn. "Who shot who? Trask, do you call this having no trouble?"

The clerk from the mercantile spoke. "Sam, these two men were braced by Lang, Mosher, and Gately. They were boxed in but did some damned fast and straight shooting to get out of it. Lang opened it, but Trask pulled both his irons and drilled Lang and Mosher. Shorty here took one in the leg while he was accounting for Red. I'd say those three made a serious mistake in judgment," as he pointed to the three dead men.

The doctor made an appearance and went to work on Shorty. Soon the bleeding was stopped and he was taken to the hotel. Emerson stayed with Shorty until he was asleep, then questioned the old medic.

"It isn't as bad as it might have been," replied the doctor to Emerson's question. "He lost a lot of blood, but no bones were hit. He should be back on a horse in a week or two."

Emerson headed back to the ranch as soon as he determined Shorty would be well cared for. Rather than finding riders, he had lost another. As he rode, Emerson estimated the size herd the ranchers of the basin would throw together and the number of men available to trail them. He needed a few more riders to even get started. The question was, where could he find them on short notice.

Still a few miles from home, Emerson met Bob Jordan traveling toward town. "Bob, you look some better, but still not too good. How's it going?" Emerson enjoyed the younger Jordan's attitude.

"We are just about ready to start some prime stuff on the trail. Don't worry about us. Is the MM ready for the trip?" Bob's still swollen face showed a smile.

"Bob, there was some gunplay in town today and Shorty took one in the leg. He'll be all right but he won't be riding for awhile. I'm afraid we are a few men short to start the drive, but there isn't much we can do about it. I would appreciate it if you could get word to all the ranchers to have a rep at the hotel tomorrow around dusk. We need to finalize our plans."

"Who was in the gunfight?" asked Bob excitedly. "Did anyone else get hit? I notice you're wearing your Colts, Emerson. What happened?"

Emerson found himself giving Bob a brief recount of the day's events. "Make sure you get word to the other ranchers. Your place is in the center of things, so that's why I'm asking you." Emerson reminded Bob.

"Sure, Emerson. I'm on my way to see a girl in town and I'll stop at the other places on the way home." Bob was eager to spread word of this recent course of events to the others.

It was dusk when Bob trotted into the Casey yard. He found everyone, including Tom Gordon, eating dinner. Bob remembered the part Tom had played in his beating at the hands of Hogan and had little to do with him since.

"Come in, Bob!" It was Carmella greeting him. "Sit down and join us. You are looking colorful, but much better, from what I hear. It is nice to see you getting around."

"Thanks Mrs. Casey. I do have a bright mug, don't I?" Bob laughed. "I'm here to deliver a message and some news. Lang, Mosher, and Gately braced Emerson and Shorty in the street in front of the hotel today. Some men were killed."

A plate smashed on the floor, startling everyone. Maria had dropped it when Bob mentioned Emerson. She placed a hand on a chair to steady herself. Her face had turned very white. Once again Maria felt a tightness in her chest. Lang and Mosher were known gunmen and killers. She had tried to warn Emerson about the type of men he was dealing with. He had started wearing guns, Maria had heard, so he was fair game for these killers!

Now Pat and Carmella looked at her. Maria ignored their attention and asked, "Bob, did they shoot him?"

"Jack Seitz, the clerk at the mercantile saw the whole thing," continued Bob. He had told the story several times and felt he had found the most dramatic way. He went on, as if he never heard Maria's question. "Those three spread out and had Emerson and Shorty boxed in. Well, Emerson told them if they wanted jobs to forget it. If they were looking for boot hill, then start the ball!"