“Let that be a lesson to you.”
Houser turned and walked back to the ranch office, with the three new men following behind.
“All them big words he was usin’, what the hell is it he just said?” one of the cowboys asked.
“He said that Slim ’n Dooley got themselves shot,” another replied.
* * *
A few days subsequent to Houser’s address to his company, Turley saw Kenny Prosser riding up. Prosser was pushing ten cows, and Turley walked out to see him.
“Hello, Kenny, what’s this?” Turley asked.
“This here is ten cows that don’t belong to me,” Prosser replied. “They’re Twin Peaks cows.”
Turley checked the brand, which was a horizontal line upon which two point-up carets were placed, making it look like a pair of mountains.
“Yeah, it’s our brand, all right. How’d you come by them?”
“I don’t have no idea,” Prosser said. “They wasn’t there last night, but this mornin’ when I went out to check on m’ herd, there they was. I heard what happened to Slim ’n Dooley, ’n knowin’ how Houser is already suspicious of me, they wasn’t no way I was goin’ to let them cows stay so I figured I’d better get them back here, quick as I could.”
“Thanks. By the way, did you have breakfast this mornin’?” Turley asked.
“I didn’t get around to it, seein’ as I needed to get these critters back.”
“Come on, Cookie’s got some breakfast left, you can eat ’n I’ll have a cup of coffee with you.”
The cowboys’ dining room was empty, except for three men, Knox, Malcolm, and Dobbins. They were sitting at one of the tables and enjoying a late breakfast.
“Cookie, you got ’ny biscuits ’n bacon left? Turley asked.
“You still hungry, Mr. Turley?”
“No, but a feller just brought some of our cows back to us that had wandered off, ’n since he didn’t have no breakfast this mornin’, why, I figured it would be a nice thing to thank ’im for bringing the cows back by feedin’ ’im.”
“All right, I got some left. You’ll want some coffee, I reckon.”
“I would appreciate it.”
“Who are those three men?” Prosser asked a few minutes later, nodding to the three new hires. “I figure as long as I’ve been here in the valley I’ve seen near ’bout ever’ cowhand there is, only I ain’t never seen none of them before.”
“I hadn’t ever seen ’em before they come here, neither, but they ain’t cowhands. You can’t tell now, ’cause they’re all sittin’ down when ever’ one else is at work. But if you was to see the way they’re wearin’ their guns, you’d know, they ain’t cowhands.”
“If they ain’t cowhands, what do they do?”
“You see the bald-headed one there? He’s the one that kilt Dooley ’n Slim.”
“Was they really stealin’ from the brand?” Prosser asked.
“I don’t know. We was missin’ some cows, and they was actin’ mighty peculiar. It could be that they was.”
“I don’t believe it,” Prosser said. “I know most all of the smaller ranchers, ’n I don’t believe none of ’em would buy cows they thought was stoled, let alone stoled from Houser. He’s done got hisself a reputation of not bein’ none too friendly with the small ranchers, which is why I brung these cows back.”
“And you don’t have no idea how they got there?”
“No, I don’t. It’s like I said, onliest thing I know is they warn’t there last time I checked.”
* * *
Shortly after Prosser left, Turley was watching a couple of men changing the wheel to a wagon, when Knox came walking up to him.
“Houser wants to see you,” Knox said.
“What about?”
“That’s ’twixt you ’n him,” Knox said. He pointed to the wagon wheel. “That wheel’s goin’ to need grease. I ’spect all of ’em will.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Turley said. He walked over to the office and knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Houser?”
“Is it true what Knox told me? Did you give Prosser breakfast?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I provide food for the men who work for me,” Houser said resolutely. “I can’t afford to feed any saddle bum who happens by, especially one of the small ranchers who I know is stealing from me.”
“Well, now, that’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Houser. Kenny ain’t stealin’ from us. Fact is, he brung some of your cows back to us that had, somehow, wandered over to his place. I thought that, since he done that, why, it would be all right to give ’im breakfast since he hadn’t et yet. ’N Cookie was more ’n likely goin’ to throw it away, anyhow, seein’ as ever’ one else had done et.”
“He brought the ten cows back?” Houser said, the expression on his face registering his surprise.
“Yes, sir, that’s what he done.”
The surprised look was replaced by another expression, one that Turley couldn’t quite read, though it almost looked like he was annoyed.
“All right. You can get back to work,” Houser said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Turley didn’t ask, but he wondered how Houser knew it was exactly ten cows. He hadn’t given him any number.
Chapter Eleven
Five hundred miles south of Chugwater, six men rode into the small town of Seven Oaks, Texas. All six were wearing long, brown dusters, and all had their hats pulled so low that it was difficult to get a good look at anyone’s face. The town was relatively busy, with a couple of wagons rolling slowly down the street. In front of Bloomberg’s General Store a woman was putting groceries into a buckboard as her six-year-old son stood beside her. At the hotel a man was standing on the roof that overhung the first-floor porch, washing windows on the second floor.
Two older men were playing checkers in front of the feed store, while a couple of gossips looked on.
“You’ve got a jump, Fred,” one of them said.
“I see the jump. Leave me be, let me play my own game.”
“I’m just tryin’ to help.”
“I don’t need no help.”
Abe Sobel was just coming out of the leather-goods store, wearing a new
