Soft Soap for a Hard Case Read online

Tears instantly filled her eyes in spite of her best efforts. She shook her head. ‘We don’t really know,’ she said. ‘He didn’t come home one evening, so we went looking for him. We found him about a mile and a half from the house. He had been shot. His own gun was out of the holster, but hadn’t been fired.’

  Sam frowned. ‘Were you having trouble with anyone?’

  The grief in her eyes was instantly tempered by a flare of anger. Her lips tightened. ‘There are two of the bigger ranches that have tried to buy our place, every since we got the patent on it. It was probably one or the other of them, but we don’t have any way to prove it. The marshal came and talked to us, but nothing else was ever done.’

  ‘How long ago was that?’

  ‘Not quite six months.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he offered again, even though the words sounded lame, even to himself. ‘What are you and the boy going to do now?’

  Her chin lifted. Her shoulders squared. She straightened in her chair. ‘I’m not sure, but we’ll be OK. I’m a long way from helpless. Between Billy and me, we can keep the cows taken care of for a while. The crick runs year-round, at least, it hasn’t frozen clear over since we’ve been here. We have good winter range. The stock should be fine, with just occasional checking on them. By spring, with a decent calf crop, we’ll be able to make a better decision about what to do.’

  ‘Me and Ma can run this outfit just fine,’ Billy asserted. ‘I’m pertneart a man, and I can ride and rope and shoot a rifle plumb good. I done shot us a deer just last week, and me and Ma got it all dressed out and everything.’

  His mother made a brave effort to smile. ‘You do awfully well for your age,’ she agreed.

  Sam returned to his supper in awkward silence. Unsure of what to say, he opted to say nothing. It was glaringly obvious to him that a woman and a child could not possibly maintain even a small ranch alone, but he was equally sure she had no means with which to hire a hand. A moment of irrational anger welled up within him, that her husband would get himself killed and leave them in such a position. That emotion was followed by an equally irrational urge to find out who had shot him, and exact retribution.

  He finished his meal hurriedly, and rose from the table. ‘Well, ma’am, if you don’t mind, I’ll find me a spot over toward the crick to toss my bedroll, and see if I can get me a little shuteye.’

  ‘You’re welcome to,’ she said. ‘If you stop by the house in the morning, I’ll fix you some breakfast before you leave.’

  ‘Thank you. You’re real kind.’

  As he went out the door, Billy called out, ‘G’night, Mister.’

  ‘Good night, Billy Don’t,’ he responded.

  He lay awake in his blankets for a long while, pondering their seemingly impossible situation. He woke twice during the night, still thinking about it.

  CHAPTER 3

  Dawn streaked the eastern sky with shades of pink and orange as Sam rolled up his bedroll. At the edge of the creek he shaved and washed. He headed toward the house, then stopped in his tracks.

  At the back of the house, a small wood pile was neatly stacked. It was pitifully small against the need that would become pressing in two or three months. There were no larger logs nearby that could be split to add to the meager supply.

  Looking around, he could see plenty of dead-fall in the fingers of timber that approached the house, but he well knew the strength and effort needed to convert it into fuel for the stove that provided both cooking and heat for the small house.

  He frowned, shook his head, and started toward the house again. Half way there, he stopped, looked at the paltry wood pile again, and frowned anew.

  The smell of frying bacon drew him to the house like a magnet. He tapped lightly on the door. Instantly the woman’s voice bade him, ‘Come on in, Sam.’

  He stepped inside, removing his hat. She was lifting a pan of fresh biscuits from the oven. ‘I just made some biscuits and gravy, and fried a little bacon. I hope that’ll be breakfast enough for you.’

  ‘That’s way more than you had any need to do,’ he protested. ‘But it sure does smell good. You know, I don’t even know your name. Except Mrs. Bond, that is. I’ll be happy to just call you that, if you prefer.’

  She smiled, and his heart inexplicably raced, as if it were somehow ignited by that expression. ‘My name is Kate,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. I forgot that I hadn’t introduced myself.’

  ‘Kate. The name suits you.’

  ‘It does? Why would you say that?’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It just seems to fit you.’

  She giggled unexpectedly. ‘Well, maybe that’s because I’ve worn it long enough it’s settled on to me pretty well.’

  He struggled in vain to think of something to say that would spark that smile or that giggle again, but seemed suddenly tongue-tied. Finally he said, ‘Billy still asleep?’

  She nodded toward the loft. ‘He’ll wake up pretty quick. He usually does when he smells breakfast cooking. He always woke up as soon as I came down when he slept down here, but we’ve both slept in the loft since Ralph was … since he … left.’

  Sam started to say, ‘I’m sorry,’ again, but bit his tongue. He’d already said that enough times. Instead, he said, ‘It’s gotta be hard on the boy.’

  ‘It’s hard on both of us,’ she agreed at once, ‘but we’ll get by.’

  ‘Uh, speaking of that, I couldn’t help but notice your wood pile’s pretty meager. Winter’s gonna be down on you pretty soon, and you sure need a lot bigger pile of wood than that to get you through.’

  Her eyes grew troubled at once. She sighed, as she set the biscuits and gravy on the table. ‘I’ve been thinking about seeing if I could hire somebody from town to come out and cut some wood. Billy does OK with an axe for his age, but he isn’t big enough or strong enough to cut as much as we’ll need.’

  With obvious discomfort, Sam said, ‘Well, uh, Kate, ma’am, I was thinking some while I was getting washed up and shaved. I don’t guess I got a tight schedule getting them horses back home. If it’s OK with you, I’d be plumb willing to stay around a day or two and see if I can drag some of that dead-fall out of the timber and get a bunch of it chopped up for you.’

  Her eyes grew instantly cautious. ‘How much would you charge me to do that?’

  He shook his head. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t take any money! I wasn’t asking for a job. I’d be plumb happy to just do that for you and the boy.’

  The caution in her eyes grew stronger, bordering between fear and anger. ‘And just what would you be expecting in exchange for all that work?’

  Her meaning struck him like a faceful of ice water. His face turned beet red. He stammered as he said, ‘Oh, no, ma’am! I, uh, I wasn’t thinking of anything like that there! I wouldn’t never try to take advantage of someone like … I mean, I didn’t even think of … I didn’t mean.…’

  She broke into that radiant smile again. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake sit down and stop stammering. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just needed to know what you had in mind. I feel very defenseless, sometimes, being here with just me and Billy.’

  Before he could answer, Billy bounded down the ladder from the loft. ‘Hi, Mister,’ he greeted Sam.

  ‘Hi, Mister?’ Kate challenged. ‘Doesn’t your mother even rate “Good morning”?’

  ‘Aw, I knowed you’d be here, Ma. I was just a-scared Sam’d already be gone when I woke up. You gotta leave this morning, Sam?’

  Sam grinned. ‘Well now, that’s just what your Ma and I were talking about. I haven’t had a good chance to chop wood and get my muscles loosened up for quite a while. If I was to stay a day or two and work on your wood pile, do you think you could keep my horses from wandering off? You know, keep ’em sort of bunched together, but not too tight, where they can fill up on grass and water?’

  ‘Oh, boy! You bet! I can sure do that! Me’n Topper – that’s my horse’s name, Topper – me’n Topper can keep them horses o’ yours wherever
you want ’em. You gonna use my Pa’s saw?’

  ‘Do you have a tree saw?’

  ‘Yup. One o’ them two-man saws with the big tall handles on both ends. Me’n Pa’d cut logs up with it sometimes, but mostly it was him’n Ma. I get tired too quick, on account o’ it’s too high up for me when the logs are on them sawbucks. But me’n Topper can herd horses or cows or most anything like that all day long.’

  True to his word, the boy and his horse kept the small remuda well in range throughout the day. Sam turned his own horse into the bunch, choosing instead another with the Rafter J brand, to let his mount rest. Using his lariat, he used that horse to drag three dozen fallen trees from the timber to the area behind the house. Then he picketed the horse and fell to work.

  He hoisted the first of the trees on to the sawbucks, and began sawing it into stove-length sections. The saw was long and unwieldy, and he struggled to make it work well. He had just started the second cut when Kate came round the house. Without saying anything, she stepped to the other end of the saw and grasped the handle with both hands. The saw instantly became a completely different and efficient tool, slicing its way through the tree in a fraction of the time it had taken him to make the first cut.

  Three hours later they had heaped up a substantial pile of stove-length logs ready to be split. Sam’s shoulders and arms ached with the unaccustomed effort. He marveled at the strength of this woman, who kept pace perfectly with the rhythm of the saw and never seemed to tire.

  ‘I gotta take a break,’ he admitted finally, leaning back against the trunk of a tree the grew in the yard.

  ‘I’ll get us some water, then I’ll have to go fix us some dinner,’ she responded.

  She carried the water bucket and dipper out and they took turns slaking their thirst. When they had done so, he said, ‘Leave the bucket. I’ll go fill it at the crick.’

  ‘OK. I’ll get dinner started.’

  He was nearly back from the creek with the bucket of fresh water when he heard the horses approach. He set the bucket of water down beside a sawbuck. He put his shirt on and buckled on his gun, both of which he had shed while he worked. He carefully dried his hand, then checked the gun and dropped it back in its holster.

  Kate had heard the approaching horses as well. She stepped out of the front door, her rifle cradled in the crook of her right arm, as they rode into the yard.

  ‘Mornin’, Mrs Bond,’ the leader of three greeted.

  The frigid chill in her voice was unmistakable. Her words were clipped and brittle as ice. ‘Good morning, Mr Russell. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Now that’s not a very warm welcome for a neighbor,’ he responded.

  ‘You’re not much of a neighbor,’ she retorted. ‘What do you want?’

  Anger tinged his features, but his voice remained smooth. ‘Well, I wanted to offer you my condolences again on the loss of your husband.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice and lips tight and unyielding.

  ‘I also wanted to offer to help you out of a tight jam. I know you’re in a pretty tight spot. To be totally honest, I’d sort of like to have this place. I’d be willing to pay you five hundred dollars cash for it. If I remember right, your buckboard disappeared the same time your husband went and got himself shot. If you sell out to me, I’ll furnish you a buckboard and a team of horses, so you can load all your stuff, and you and the kid can clear outa the country.’

  The level of Kate’s anger visibly rose as the rancher spoke. ‘Now just how did you happen to know that Ralph had the buckboard with him when he was shot? I don’t remember telling anyone that. Does that mean you were there?’

  Lance Russell looked startled and at a loss for words for one brief moment. He recovered quickly. ‘Now don’t go tossin’ accusations around, lady. I’m makin’ a fair offer, and if you got any sense you’ll take it, and you and the kid’ll clear out.’

  Kate shifted the gun, gripping its forestock with her left hand. ‘You killed him, didn’t you? You killed him so I’d have to let you have our place for a tenth of what it’s worth.’

  ‘I told you not to go makin’ them kind of accusations, lady,’ Russell countered. ‘You ain’t in any position to go gettin’ all huffy. I ain’t sayin’ my boys here would love to have me give ’em the go-ahead to have some fun, you bein’ all alone and all. I’m just sayin’ you ain’t really got no choice but to take my offer and clear out.’

  Kate started to raise the barrel of her rifle, but was stopped by Sam’s voice. He stepped out from behind the corner of the house. ‘I believe the lady already said, “No,’’’ he said. His voice was quiet, but taut with menace.

  ‘Who the Sam Hill are you?’ the startled rancher demanded.

  ‘I don’t guess that matters,’ Sam said. ‘What matters is that the lady said, “No”. That means it’s time for you and your flunkies to turn around and go crawl back under whatever rock you crawled out from under.’

  As he talked, one of Russell’s men sidled his horse slowly away from the other two, a move not lost on Sam. It came as no surprise when the gunman said, ‘Do you want to see if you can put me under that rock?’

  ‘I figured you were low enough you could walk under it standing straight up,’ Sam replied.

  The gunman responded to the taunt instantly but it was far too slow an instant. His gun had scarcely begun its lift from the holster when Sam’s gun barked and the gunman was driven from the saddle to sprawl on the ground.

  The other gunman and the rancher both grabbed for their guns, but stopped abruptly when they realized Sam’s .45 had already swivelled to cover them. They both sat there, frozen, knowing they were dead if they tried to draw, and defeated if they didn’t.

  Sam’s voice crackled with deadly threat. ‘Lift them guns out real slow and let ’em drop on the ground, or I’ll drop you both on the ground instead.’

  After the briefest of hesitation, both complied. ‘Now back your horses away from ’em.’

  They reined their horses backward a couple lengths. ‘Kate, get their guns.’

  Kate lowered her rifle and walked forward picking up both pistols, she returned, being careful not to get between Sam and the others. ‘Better get the other guy’s too,’ Sam instructed.

  Wordlessly she walked around behind him and retrieved the dead gunman’s weapon as well.

  Sam addressed the disarmed duo. ‘Now you boys pick up your rotten baggage and tie him across his horse, then get off this place and don’t come back.’

  Both men glared at him briefly, then moved to comply. As Sam watched them, his .45 continually trained on them, Kate moved ten yards to one side and trained her own rifle on them as well. She held it comfortably with the stock rested on her hip, her finger on the trigger, her left hand holding the forestock, visibly capable of firing from that position in an instant.

  Nobody spoke until the pair had completed their grisly chore and ridden away, leading the dead man’s horse with its macabre burden.

  Just before they were out of earshot, they stopped. Russell turned in the saddle and shouted, ‘Don’t think you’ve heard the last of this. We’ll be back.’

  In answer, Kate threw her rifle to her shoulder and fired. Russell’s hat flew from his head. Cursing loudly, he leaned forward. Beneath the urgency of suddenly applied spurs, the pair’s mounts surged to a run, leading the dead man’s mount in a cloud of dust.

  After several moments, Sam said, ‘You’re either awful good with that rifle, or awful bad. Did you shoot the hat on purpose, or were you tryin’ to kill ’im?’

  Her anger dissolved in a broad smile that seemed more mischievous than anything. ‘It sort of makes you wonder, doesn’t it.’

  He did, for a fact, wonder, as she turned and disappeared into the house to continue fixing their noon meal.

  CHAPTER 4

  Sam wasn’t sure what he should do. On the surface, it was clear he should return to the wood pile until dinner was ready, but his instincts cried out for him to
follow Kate into the house. He chose to follow his instincts.

  Kate walked inside. She stood her rifle against the wall beside the door, stepped away from it a short step and stopped. She folded her arms. She took a deep breath. Her shoulders began to tremble, slightly at first, then with growing tremors that rippled throughout her body. A deep sob caught in her throat as she fought to stifle it.

  Acting purely on instinct, Sam walked around in front of her. He stepped up to her and placed a hand on each of her shoulders. ‘You did good,’ he said.

  She looked up into his eyes. What she saw there released the torrent of her emotions. She burst into tears and collapsed against his chest. Startled, he did the only thing he could think of doing. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to himself, holding her against the intensity of the emotions that wracked her body. Neither said anything. After a couple minutes, she wrapped her own arms around him, squeezing him to herself as if trying to pull his strength into the vast vacuum of helpless terror that yawned within her.

  They stood that way for several minutes, as the trauma of the morning blended into the greater trauma of losing her husband, her fear for the future, her responsibility for a son, her need to be more than she could possibly be. It all poured out wordlessly in sobs and tears and shudders as he held her, willing his own strength to buoy her flagging, fractured spirit.

  Slowly, then, she relaxed her grip around him. He responded by releasing her. She stepped back. She lifted her apron and mopped her face with it. ‘I’m … I’m sorry,’ she apologized. ‘I don’t usually fall apart like that.’

  His response surprised her. ‘One of the toughest and fiercest fighters I ever knew was like that.’

  Her eyes darted upward and locked on his gaze. ‘He was?’

  ‘Yup. He could stand alone against a regiment o’ the Mexican army, or a whole tribe of attackin’ warriors without flinching, and fight like a demon, till the battle was over. Then, when it was all over, he’d slip off by himself someplace and just plumb fall apart. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.’