“I just wondered why they showed up.”
“We ain’t missing any horses, are we?’
“Why’s that?”
“Someone on the run may have traded us them for fresh ones of ours.”
“I guess I never thought about it that way. All those mares were at one time broke to ride, but they ain’t been rode since then. Wow, I bet they bucked.”
They both laughed and washed up on the back porch. Susie had two heaping plates ready for them and placed the food on the table. “You two are getting around slow tonight.”
Chet stopped astraddle his chair. “I’ve been checking oats and Reg’s been checking mares.”
“Sounds busy. Reg, we’re going to Mason tomorrow to get some material. The boss says you and J.D. need to attend our trip.”
Reg poised his fork and looked over at Chet. “How come?”
“We need to be prepared,” Chet said.
With a shrug, Reg gave her a grin. “Sure. J.D. and I can watch you girls and watch the ladies over there as well.”
Susie shook her head. “You men.”
“On second thought—” Then Chet laughed at his sister’s disapproval.
“You two want some pie?”
“Do we look like we want some pie?”
“Can I tell her about the apple crisp we made?” Reg asked.
“You two made?”
“We did. At a place we stopped at. We made it for Hilga.” Reg told her the whole story while she served them slices of her dried apple-raisin pie.
“My, my, I bet she was shocked at what she found.”
“Take me back. Take me back,” Reg mimicked.
They all laughed about it.
After breakfast, Louise got on the spring seat with Susie driving the buckboard, and the boys rode along on horseback. Chet and the small ones went to give Bugger another lesson. May was left doing dishes, and Dale Allen was going to do some repairs on the hay wagons.
Bugger was a little less feisty, but he still had a ways to go. Chet hitched him back to the snubbing post, then looked up when he saw a rider coming.
He walked over to the fence. It was Jim Crammer.
“Get down, Jim. What can I do for you?”
“I don’t have time. Got to get back. I’ve got a mare trying to foal. I need to save her colt. She’s a daughter of Sam Houston and there aren’t many left of that bloodline. I just came from Mayfield. I wanted you to know that Earl Reynold’s saying you hung his boy.”
“Boys, you go find you father and help him awhile.” He waited until they were out of hearing.
“I never said I did or didn’t,” said Chet. “Rustlers are rustlers. It was no joke. They stole my entire remuda, and I caught up with them this side of the Red River, somewhere west of Fort Worth.”
“You don’t need to explain it to me, but you better watch your back is all I can say.”
“I just wanted you to know how it happened.”
Jim made a sharp nod. “Sorry, I understand, but it looks bad. I better get back and check on my mare.”
Chet watched him ride out. Dale Allen joined him. “What did Jim want?”
“Reynolds knows who hung their boy.”
“Son of a bitch.”
It was only a matter of time until he knew anyhow. Hell, Chet had whipped the Comanche. How much worse could those loud-mouthed Georgia crackers be?
Chapter 7
The dust churned by the buckboard the next afternoon signaled his crew’s return from Mason. He relaxed when he saw both women on the seat and another in the back. Good. Susie must have found some help. Reg and J.C. were loping ahead of them.
The boys dropped off their horses at the corral.
“Well,” Reg said. “They’re bringing their bodies back. We seen them in Mason with three pine boxes. Funeral’s tomorrow. We going to go?”
“I guess we should pay our respects to the dead,” Chet said.
“Hell, have we got to wear ties and coats?”
Chet nodded. “Won’t kill us.”
“One of you boys go help Susie unload,” Dale Allen said to them.
Reg started to say something, then handed his reins to his brother and set out for the house. Why did Dale Allen order those boys around like that? It made Chet about half mad, too. Everyone pitched in and helped, but that surly way Dale Allen had of speaking to them got under Chet’s hide, too.
“I guess we all could go help her,” Chet said, and started that way as J.D. began to unsaddle.
“I got these, Chet,” said J.D.
“Good.”
“How was Mason?”’ Chet asked Reg as they walked across the yard.
“Fine, but I saw something there.” He looked around and then lowered his voice. “Jake Porter was up there. I seen his team in a lot. You’d recognize them a mile away.”
“What was he doing?”
Reg shrugged and then grinned big. “He was staying there at some widow woman’s house. It’s a big fancy place. They called it Colonel Bridges House. Two-story and brick. He never came out while we were there.”
“Hmmm,” Chet said. “That’s kind of open, isn’t it?”
“I guess he had his reasons.”
“Yeah,” Reg said. “Like that fella up north has with that Mexican woman.”
Dale Allen frowned at what they meant, but the rest laughed.
“Susie get someone to help?” Chet asked.
Reg nodded. “Her name’s Astria.”
“Good.”
“Susie, how did it go?” Chet said as she came out and pushed a wave of brown hair back from her face with a smile.
“I found material, some items I couldn’t get in Mayfield, and I hired Astria Valdez.”
The men swept off their hats for the girl in her teens on the porch who looked very self-conscious biting her lip and nodding at them. Slender and maybe fourteen, she looked taken aback by all the people that Susie introduced. Then everyone took something inside.
Chet spoke to her in Spanish. “We are glad to have you here, Astria.”
“I am grateful that the señorita hired me. This is a large hacienda and a pretty place to live. Gracias.”
“You will be a family member here.”
“I will try, señor.”
“No, Susie is very fair. You will like her.”
“Oh, I do already.”
He nodded and took a load of purchases inside. He still did not understand what Jake Porter was doing in Mason at some widow’s house when he’d told Marla he was going to San Antonio. Would that knowledge change Marla’s mind about leaving him? Chet better not tell her. Telling gossip wasn’t his game. She’d find out. Someone would slip and Chet would be there. The notion made him feel stronger about reaching some permanent arrangement