Texas Blood Feud. Dusty Richards

J.D. said. “Who were they?”

      “Kenny and two of the Campbells.”

      “I guess they’ve got the whole clan after us?” Reg asked, propping a boot on the dash.

      “Sounds like it.” J.D shook his head as if it was too hard for him to fathom.

      “If this celebration is over, take us to the house. I don’t know who is the most childish, you or my boys,” Louise said.

      “Yes, ma’am.” Reg kicked off the brake and clucked to the mares.

      Ah, the spoiler had spoken. She couldn’t leave for Louisiana fast enough for Chet’s part. But if it was his idea, she’d never go—

      He dismounted from Strawberry at the house, and he swept up Ty and Ray and put them in the saddle. They beamed as they rocked back and forth in their seat to the horse’s swinging walk.

      At the corral gate, he took them down. “Short ride this time.”

      He hooked the bridle on the horn, wrapped up the reins, and turned the horse into the pen. He might need him. Keeping him saddled wouldn’t hurt him. He crossed to the Bugger horse, untied him, and led him to water. Then he took him over to the side door of the tack room. Ray had a measure of oats ready in a feedbag, and opened the door with his other hand.

      “Thanks, I better hang it on him.” Chet took it, and the horse bowed his head, knowing where his rewards came from, and let him put it over his once-tender ears.

      “He’s getting smarter, Uncle Chet.”

      “Yes, he is. Next week, I’ll saddle him. Can you boys keep a big secret?”

      Ray nodded and Ty joined him. “You can’t tell anyone until after whoever goes to Kansas comes back. But we’re going to find you boys a couple of small horses or ponies.” He put his finger to his mouth. “That is our big secret.”

      “I hope they aren’t wild as Bugger,” Ty said, looking concerned.

      “If they are, then we’ll break them.”

      Susie met them on the back porch. “Go inside, boys, after you wash up. There’s some cookies in there on the table for you and some milk.” When they were in the kitchen, out of hearing, she spoke to Chet. “It was a bad day today. We’re back like the days when the Comanche made raids on us.”

      “I know and it’ll get tougher.” He hugged her. “Louise say any more about going home for a visit?”

      “Not a word. I think she was simply threatening you.”

      “It might ease a situation around here if she went.”

      Susie stopped and blinked at him.

      “Sis, you are my confidante. I tell you things that I don’t tell anyone else.” He sighed. “May says that Dale Allen is having an affair with her.”

      “No.”

      “May’s been upset, tired, and worn out with those two little kids and the bigger ones. As well as what she tried to do to help you. But she didn’t make that up. I saw it today between them. I just wasn’t looking for it before.”

      “Oh, my God, Chet. What can you do?”

      “Send her on a long trip back home and send him to Kansas with the herd.”

      “Have you talked to him about it at all?”

      “I can’t—he wouldn’t listen. He counters my orders. Talks to those big boys like they were his slaves. Really piss—I mean, it makes them mad.” He dried his hands. “And she’s using him against me.”

      “You know I bite my tongue when she starts in to me about you. How if Mark was still here, this place would be run so much better.”

      “Mark never did anymore on this ranch than a hired hand would have around here. He left her nagging for the army. I would have gone in his place, but he told me no, he had to get away from her. I doubt he planned to ever come back here after the war. Sometimes, I think he may simply walk or ride in through that front gate like nothing ever happened.”

      Susie grew pale. “But it’s been seven years.”

      “They said he was buried in that Mississippi mud. But mutilated bodies could be anyone—change identities and go on.”

      She shuddered and he hugged her. “I’m sorry, Susie. Mark is probably dead, but I don’t think she believes it. Other men have come around and she avoided them like the pining widow.”

      “But why,” she whispered, “Dale Allen?”

      “To get to me is all I know. She would like to run this ranch and order everyone around like they did on her family farm.”

      “A war with the Reynolds clan and one of our own. You at least knew what a Comanche wanted when he came.”

      He agreed. “I think my boys are through. I’m going to split some stove wood and let them bring it up here. They like work. I sure don’t want them to quit liking it.”

      At the woodpile, he let the boys work the bowed handsaw to cut short blocks off the post oak logs he put up on the cross-bucks for them. “Be careful.”

      With those two busy, he began to bust the shot sticks into easy kindling wood on top of a large block cut out of an ancient oak. The double-bit ax raised high over his head and the kindling flew. The sound of someone pounding iron came on the wind. Dale Allen was working in the blacksmith shop, replacing or repairing some parts on the chuck wagon. He also was making extra single- and doubletrees out of some ash blocks they’d bought at the mill.

      His brother was handy at blacksmithing. Never minded working alone, and did good craftsmanship. Suited Chet fine. He busted off some more kindling. Using the big ax gave him time to think, consider what the Reynolds clan would try next, and use his muscles. The pile began to grow, and the boys were cutting them faster than he could make them into kindling.

      They began giggling over how far ahead of him they were.

      “Oh, my gosh, you boys better take a break.”

      They agreed and sat down in the sawdust, hugging their knees to watch him work. At last he sunk the ax in the block. “We better carry some up to the house.”

      “We get a pony, I’ll train him to pull a sled and we’ll haul it up there.” Ray said.

      “Now that’s thinking,” Chet said, and loaded up his arms with the short wood.

      “You boys haul some more up there on the porch after this. I need to go do something.”

      At the house, he stuck his head inside and told his sister he was going scouting and would be back later.

      The boys agreed to pack more up there, and he paid them a nickel each. He walked to the pen and took the feedbag off Bugger and caught Strawberry. Porter’d come home, but maybe he’d be gone to town to play cards. When the horse was bridled and cinch tight, Chet swung up in the saddle and rode off.

      Maybe talking to Marla would help—she could usually cheer him up.