Jack entered the clapboard office building and was greeted with Juana Marshall’s welcoming smile. “Jack, what a nice surprise. I was just thinking you were about due to show up in town.” Juana’s smile seemed perpetual, and it was difficult to be with her more than five minutes and not surrender to her persistent optimism. A visit with Juana would quickly break one of the black moods that for no explainable reason had been clutching him on occasion lately.
“I can only go so long without seeing you, Juana. I needed a day brightener.”
“Okay, Jack. Turn off the charm. You are here on serious business. I can tell,” she said. She motioned at the little table behind the counter, where she often sat down with customers. “Sit down. I have coffee on the little woodstove in the cave.”
He pulled back a chair and watched Juana as she disappeared behind the curtain that separated the front office area from “the cave,” as Juana called it for its single narrow window that left it dusky at best on sunny days. It was essentially a storage room with floor to ceiling shelves, the contents of which were known only to Juana. Jack had no desire to know.
Juana was a multi-generation Texan of Mexican ancestry, a year or two past twenty-five, who had migrated to San Angelo from San Antonio when Fort Concho was being constructed after the War of the Rebellion. Her parents had established a restaurant featuring Mexican food and drinks, where Juana still managed the bookkeeping and inventory. She had a head for numbers and a solid education which she was putting to use teaching Tige and their two small children to read, write, and cipher.
Jack admired Juana’s quick mind, and she was such a pretty thing, on the short side and not petite, but busty with curves where they should be on a woman. Flawless, bronze-tinted skin, only a shade lighter than her husband’s. Tige had walked away with a prize when he won Juana’s heart.
His mind was still wandering when Juana placed two filled pottery coffee mugs on the table and sat down across from him. He looked up and saw she still had that ever-present smile, but her dark eyes were questioning.
Jack said, “I need to talk to Tige, but I was hoping I could speak with you first.”
“Tige is with some skinners in the stable. They have some loads going out from the fort this afternoon. We’re short-handed today, so he was going to help with the feedings and such, too. He won’t be back anytime soon.”
“I hope the two big Studebakers are available.”
“I’m sure they are, but I will check my logbook to be certain.”
“I have a mission that could be dangerous. A man of Tige’s talents would be useful.”
Juana’s smile became tentative. “Tell me about this mission.”
Jack rendered a fifteen-minute version of the story. “I will tell you more sometime, but that’s the gist of what this is all about.”
Juana said, “I think that is enough for now. You must feel overwhelmed and excited at the same time. A granddaughter dropping into your life. I cannot imagine. But why did you come to me first? Why not Tige?”
“If you don’t want him to go, I won’t say anything.”
“He would find out what you were doing anyway and be upset you did not include him. And I think you need him. Besides, Tige is longing for adventure, and he does not require my permission. Talk to him.”
“Jordy is going with us. Rusty will be running the ranch, but you will have to handle the money. You have authority to sign drafts or deposit funds that show up. Rusty will stay in touch with you.”
“I adore Rusty. We won’t have any problems. You just take care of my husband . . . and yourself.”
Jack found Tige Marshall in the stable supervising and helping with stall cleaning and feeding the mules and horses. The company owned over thirty wagons and was the lifeline that brought most of the food and other supplies to both Fort Concho and the town.
The financial challenge for the business was, as Juana frequently reminded him, that too many of the wagons left empty. Loads both ways were needed to turn a good profit, especially when the company had well over one hundred mules and draft horses to keep fed with hay and grain produced on the Lucky Five river bottom lands.
Tige was preoccupied with explaining something to two young Mexican stable hands Jack had not seen before, new workers he assumed, although his appearances at the stable were infrequent. When the two departed to perform whatever task Tige had assigned, the man whose muscle-sheathed shoulders and arms threatened the seams of his cotton shirt turned and saw Jack. His face lit up and offered a generous smile as he stepped toward Jack with an outstretched hand. They exchanged firm grips, but Jack knew that the freighting manager had spared his employer the full strength of his hand’s grasp.
“Good morning, Boss. Ain’t seen you about for a spell.”
“You might wish I had stayed away longer when I tell you what I’m here for.”
Tige, who was a few inches taller than Jack, appraised Jack with his dark eyes, and his smile disappeared. “I hope I’m not losing my job.”
“Nope. I just want you to take a leave of absence to help me chase down some Comancheros. There will be a hundred-dollar bonus for every man who signs on.”
“Ain’t needing no bonus for that
