grass aplenty. When I helped Pa off the horse, I bedded him down and filled the canteen for him.
'You set quiet,' I said, 'I'll go fetch your horse.' 'Don't be a fool, Edwin,' Pa said. 'You say those boys are your friends, but there's a sight of money in those saddlebags ... not many who value friendship that high.'
Pa never called me Edwin unless he was downright serious. That money was important for reasons beyond what it could buy. Pa was always holding on about the value of a good name, and for the first time I was faced up to what it could mean. Pa was a respected man, but if we showed up without that money a lot of folks were going to remember that I'd been swaggering it around town with Doc Sites, Kid Reese, and that outfit. Some of them were going to say things about us losing the money, and Pa would take the blame as well as me.
We Tuckers never had much but an honest reputation. We were never able to get ahead. A while back we lived in Missouri, and that was the year Pa had his first good crop, and the year the grasshoppers ate him out. Two years of bad drought followed and we lost the place. We settled in Texas then and worked like dogs, and when we got our first trail herd together the Comanches came down and burned us out in the light of the moon. They burned us out, drove off our cows, and killed Uncle Bud.
They killed Uncle Bud and they'd taken his scalp. Pa, he rode after them but he never got back with any cows. Somewhere along the way he found Bud's scalp which . we buried out where the body was.
This herd we had just sold in Kansas was our first since then, and the first thing Pa had to show for twenty years of hard work ... and the first many of our neighbors had to show. If we'd got through to the ranch with that money we'd have had an edge on the future.
I guess it was my fault. While we were separated that morning the gray shied and threw him, and had I been where I should have been I'd have dropped a loop over that gray's neck and he wouldn't have gone anywhere at all. It was lucky I'd quit sulking and started back; I'd been mad but I wasn't ready to strike on my own yet. I was figuring on hooking up with Kid Reese and Doc before I did anything permanent.
Those boys were friends of mine, but something was gnawing at me. What were they doing away off up here at a time like this?
Leaving Pa alongside the creek with his pistol to hand, I mounted up and started along the creek in the direction those tracks had taken. About a half mile from where I'd left Pa, I smelled smoke.
They were camped on a grassy bench alongside the creek and under some big old cottonwoods. They had a fire going and I could see the firelight on their faces, and hear the murmur of voices. There was a third man at the fire whom I had never seen before, but I knew who he was from his description. It was Bob Heseltine.
How many stories had they told me about the doings of Bob Heseltine? To those boys he was big as all outdoors, and according to them he was the best rider, the best shot, and the most fearless man who ever came down the pike. Bob Heseltine, they told me confidentially, had held up the Garston Bank ... he had killed Sheriff Baker in a stand-up gun battle, and he had backed down two not one but two Texas Rangers. And all they could talk about was all they were going to do when Bob Heseltine got back. And here he was.
He was a mite shorter than me but wide in the shoulder, the hide of his face like tanned leather. He had deep-set blue eyes and he wore two guns tied down and sized up like a mighty mean man. Why, I'd heard more stories about him than about Clay Allison or Jim Courtright or Wild Bill Hickok.
Pa's horse was there and still saddled, but the saddlebags lay on the ground near the fire and they had the money out on a blanket where they could count it. They were going to be disappointed when they found that was our money, and belonging to folks back home. It isn't often a man finds twenty thousand dollars riding around on a lost horse.
'Hi!'
They were all so set on that money that when I hailed them they came up with their guns drawn. They stood there blinking their eyes at me like owls in a hailstorm.
'It's all right, Bob,' Reese said. 'This here is Ed Tucker, the one we were tellin' of. Ed, what in blazes are you doin' out here?'
'I see you found Pa's horse,' I said, 'and our money.'
Doc's lips sort of thinned down and Heseltine's head turned real slow to look at me again. Kid Reese, he looked everywhere but at me. Right then I began to wonder about those boys.
Firelight flickered on their faces, on the flanks of the horses, on the gold and silver spread on the blanket, and off their rifle barrels, setting against their saddles. It was so quiet a body could hear the cottonwood leaves brushing their pale green palms one agin the other, and out there beyond the light the creek water chuckled and whispered around rocks or something in the stream.
'I'm afraid you've got this all wrong, boy,' Heseltine said. 'I don't know you and I don't know whose horse this is. We found this money, and finders is keepers.'
'Now wait a minute ... Doc here, he knows Pa's horse. So does Reese. They saw it many times down Texas way.'
Heseltine turned his head to look at them. 'Is that true? Do you know this horse?'
Doc Sites looked at the ground and he looked away at the creek and he shook his head. Kid Reese, he said, 'It don't look like any horse I ever saw before, Bob. It's just a lost horse, that's all.'
Seemed like a long time I sat there, looking at the firelight on that money. I'd never seen that much money before but it didn't look like money to me, it looked like Pa sweating over his fields back in Missouri, and like all the work we'd done, by day and night, rounding up those cattle and putting brands on them. It looked like all those folks around us who shared the drive with us ... that money was there for them.
'Stop your foolin',' I said, 'Pa's back in the brush with a broke leg, broke when this horse throwed him. I got to get back there with this horse and that money.'
'You can have the horse. Take it an' welcome,' Hesel-tine said quietly, 'but the money stays here, and you're leavin' unless you want to try to do something about it ...'
All three of them were facing me now, and Heseltine was all squared around to make his fight. Doc had a rifle in his hand and Kid Reese stood there with his thumbs in his belt, just a-grinning at me. They would do whatever Bob Heseltine had said, and he'd told me what to do.
'I figured we were friends.' It sounded mighty weak and they could see I was backing down. The three of them stood there looking at me and making me feel mighty small.
'We could take him in with us,' Sites said, 'he's a good kid. He'll do what you tell him, Bob.'
That made me kind of mad. Here I'd been ready to ride off and leave Pa, and they expected me to do what somebody told me.
'Half the money is mine,' Heseltine said. 'If you boys want to split your half with him, to hell with you. He's your friend.'
A stick fell into the fire and sparks lifted into the night. Bob Heseltine was looking straight at me, and I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking he could kill me and wondering if he should.
Pa, he used to tell me when a man is holding the wrong cards he shouldn't try to buck the game. It's better to throw in your hand and wait on another deal.
Only thing that had me worried was whether I could get out of there alive.
'Looks like you got me euchred,' I said then, and I started backing to my horse. There was a minute or two when it looked like Heseltine might shoot, but he just looked at me and turned away.
Kid Reese whispered, 'You ain't gonna let him go? He'll have the law on us.'
'For what?' Heseltine asked. 'For finding money?'
Time to time, riding alone and thinking like a body does, I'd imagined myself in positions like this, and each time I'd known what to do. Right off I told them, and then I shot it out with them and always came off a winner. It beats all what a man's imagination will do for him, and how different it is when he faces up to something like that. Right then I felt mighty puny ... backed down by those three, and me in the right.
Going back down the trail I kept telling myself I'd have shot it out if it hadn't been for Pa, but deep down I wasn't so sure. If I was killed, Pa would be left to die. Maybe I was thinking of that and maybe I was just scared.
Yet I couldn't recall being exactly scared ... only that I was in the middle of something I'd be better out of.
Pa was sitting up with his back to a tree when I rode up. He had the coffee pot on, for that had been among the stuff I left beside him when I shucked my gear at the camp. Pa was sitting up but he looked poorly. His face was gray and tight-drawn.
