Caleb Page 3

  He watched her look around until her eyes fell on him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Chapman. I appreciate you noticing where Hart had disappeared to.”

  “My mother raised five sons. I know firsthand how we can get into all types of trouble.” He ruffled the young boy’s hair before kneeling in front of him. “If someone had told me there were puppies here, I would have disappeared too.”

  Caleb leaned over and picked up one of the fat pups. “They sure are cute.”

  The boy nodded. “That one is Charcoal,” he said petting the dark-colored pup’s head.

  “What kind of pups are these?” Caleb asked the liveryman. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this.”

  “Called a Blue Lacy. Part coyote, part greyhound.”

  “What are you going to do with them?”

  “They are just old enough to leave their momma. If I had my way, I would have put them all in a sack and taken them to the river to drown, but the misses wouldn’t let me.”

  Caleb heard Lydia gasp.

  “That’s terrible,” she cried.

  “Ain’t got a need for five pups.”

  Caleb stood. “I’ll take them.”

  The liveryman raised his eyebrow. “You will?”

  “Yes. All five of them.” He put the blue pup down with its siblings. “I’m leaving town at the end of the week. Will they be alright to stay here until then?”

  “I suppose’n so. Wanted to get them gone sooner than that.”

  Caleb reached in his pocket and pulled out a five-dollar coin and handed it to the liveryman. “Hopefully, that will convince you to keep them, unharmed, until I can come back or send one of my men for them.”

  The liveryman put the gold piece in his palm and flipped it over several times. He then put it up to his mouth and bit the coin before pocketing it. “They’re yours. I’ll make sure they are ready to go at the end of the week.”

  “What about the momma?”

  “Reckon, if you don’t want her as well, I’ll just shoot her. The stupid dog keeps coming back and having puppies.”

  “Mr. Sumpter, I’ll take the momma.”

  “But Mrs. Whitcomb…”

  She raised her hand. “I’m not going to see the poor animal shot. Get me some rope and I’ll take her now. Can the pups stay without her?”

  “Are we really gonna have a dog, Ma?” The young boy wrapped his arms around his mother’s legs.

  “I don’t know how we’ll feed, it, but we’ll manage.”

  Mr. Sumpter disappeared into one of the horse stalls and returned with a rope. He placed it around the mother dog’s neck and gave a little tug, before handing the rope to Hart.

  “Does she have a name?” Hart asked. The dog sniffed Hart’s hand and then licked it. Hart giggled. “She likes me.”

  “No. No name.” Mr. Sumpter rubbed his neck. “Didn’t name any of them.”

  “I’m going to call her Scout.”

  “Isn’t that a boy’s name?” his mother asked.

  “I don’t care. Her name is Scout.”

  “Well, we had better get going. Thank you, Mr. Sumpter. I hope Hart didn’t inconvenience you in any way.”

  “Not at all, Mrs. Whitcomb. Not every day a man gets rid of all his dogs and makes five dollars to boot.”

  Caleb shook the liveryman’s hand. “I’ll send someone to get the pups before we leave.”

  He followed the woman and her son, who was being pulled by Scout, out of the livery. The dog was hesitant to leave her pups, but tentatively followed the boy. Caleb didn’t understand folks that didn’t care for animals. He relied on them. They were an important part of the ranch and the cattle drives.

  He’d work with them on the long trip home and by the time they arrived, the pups should be good cattle dogs. Plus, the men would like a distraction of having something to occupy their minds around the campfire at night.

  Yes, the dogs would be good for everyone.

  Caleb caught up with Mrs. Whitcomb.

  “I take it you weren’t planning on getting a dog.”

  She shook her head. “We were headed out of town and I don’t know how I’m going to feed it. My husband didn’t have dogs on our ranch.”

  “Dogs will pretty much eat anything. Scraps, wild game, and even grass. I’m sure that Scout will do fine. Where are you headed?” He saw the woman stiffen. “I apologize, ma’am. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “We need to get back to the house. Still quite a bit to do. Hart,” she called. “Let’s go back to the wagon.”

  “Come on, Scout,” Hart coaxed the dog, tugging her towards the mercantile.

  “Thank you for helping me find my son, and for carrying the basket.”

  Caleb didn’t want to let her go just yet.

  “Why don’t I escort you back to your wagon?”

  “That won’t be necessary. We just need to get back home.”

  Caleb scratched his chin. “I understand. I bet your husband is waiting for you.”

  “Pa’s dead,” Hart blurted out.

  “Hart Whitcomb!” Lydia admonished. She looked at Caleb. “I apologize for my son’s outburst.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Whitcomb. Then I most definitely should escort you back to your wagon. There are a lot of unsavories in town.”

  “Are you one of those unsavories, Mr. Chapman?”

  Caleb laughed. “No ma’am. My mother would tan my hide if she thought I was misbehaving.”

  Mrs. Whitcomb laughed. “Even at your age?”

  “Even at my age. You don’t mess around with Marmee. She is not someone to reckon with.”

  “There you are!” a man called, approaching them.

  Caleb could see that the man was wearing a leather vest with a star on it.

  “Marshal. I wasn’t expecting to see you until later.” Lydia said as the marshal approached them.

  “Jennings just told me you left the mercantile. May we talk?” The marshal gave Caleb a pointed stare.

  “Mrs. Whitcomb, I’m glad you found your son. It was a pleasure spending a few moments with you.”

  Caleb left the two alone and headed back towards the mercantile. He could see the boy sitting on the back of a wagon filled with barrels. His new friend sat beside him. They would make a good pair, he thought.

  As he opened the door to go inside, Caleb turned to see Mrs. Whitcomb linking her arm with the marshal as he escorted her back to the wagon. He walked into the mercantile, all thoughts of the pretty lady and her son disappearing from his mind.

  “I think that is the last of it,” Tot said, dropping the sack of beans in the back of the wagon. There were four wagons that they would use on the trail.

  The main wagon was a converted Army wagon with a pantry right at the edge of the backboard. The area between the pantry and the bench was stuffed with several large cast iron pots, a cooking hook, an extra tarp, and Tot’s bedroll. This is the wagon Tot used to keep the men happy and fed.

  Caleb’s father taught him that cowboys worked the hardest if they were well fed and well rested. Tot took care of the first requirement.

  No one complained about his cooking. No one dared, lest they get a ladle in their face or end up on the receiving end of the rifle Tot kept close by. Tot had never shot anyone … yet.

  Then came the wagon containing all the dry goods. Sacks of beans, flour, sugar, onions, and coffee weighted down the wagon. There were smaller barrels of vinegar, salt and pepper were accessible from behind the driver’s seat. Burlap Sacks filled with salted pork hung from the bows inside the wagon. This wagon also had a water barrel lashed to the side.

  As a treat, Caleb insisted that they bring four bushels of apples. Tot could mix them into biscuit dough for dessert or make a Dutch oven apple pie. Either way, Caleb was happy for some fresh food on the trail.

  It took a lot to feed forty hungry men.

  The third wagon was simply filled with water barrels. Caleb insisted that they carry as many barrels as
possible because not only the men needed water, but the horses as well.

  Each of the wagons had two barrels lashed to the outside of the sideboard. That was eighteen barrels in all that would get them through the most grueling part of the desert.

  They would use the water sparingly and refill the barrels along the way. Caleb had the route marked with farmers who were willing to sell water to the passing cattle drives, rivers and even streams that should have cool water.

  The last wagon was the one that contained everything else they would need. The ammunition, bed rolls, extra tarps, and blankets, as well as medical supplies filled the wagon.

  During the day, the first three wagons would race ahead and find a spot for the noon meal or to rest for the night. The fourth wagon always stayed with the herd. It wouldn’t do to have a man hurt and the medical wagon five miles away.

  A box full of puppies sat underneath the chuckwagon, out of the sun. They were plain tuckered out. Caleb had one of the young boys in town run them around until they passed out. Tot shook his head when he saw Caleb walking back to the wagon with the box full of pups, but once he held one, Tot was sold on taking the unique dogs back to Nebraska.

  Caleb reached in and grabbed an apple from the top of the basket near the end of the wagon. “That is a lot of beans,” he said eyeing the sacks lined up in the back of the wagon.

  “Nearly five-hundred pounds. I hope we have enough.” Tot jumped down from the back of the wagon and lifted the backboard, sliding it into two grooved slots that would keep it in place. “Don’t ever recall this many men at once looking for work.”

  Aristotle Wilson was a permanent fixture on the ranch. His mother named him after a philosopher she read about in a book. His name was fitting, as Tot was a source of wisdom to many of the ranch hands on the Chapman’s ranch. He earned the name Tot from Alice, Caleb’s youngest sister. She had difficulty saying, Aristotle. Tot thought the new name suited him simply fine.

  Tot acted as the foreman for the Chapman Ranch until Caleb was old enough to take over the job. Tot cooked for the hands anytime they were out in the fields and provided them a hot meal at dinnertime. Cooking was a way for him to take his mind off growing older, he said.

  “Boss?” Caleb turned to find Goodie and Slim walking towards him. They were two of the ranch hands who accompanied Caleb from Nebraska to coordinate the drive home. Caleb trusted the two men with his cattle… and his life. There were seven men total who rode from Flat River, Nebraska to San Angelo, Texas. Two dogs accompanied them on the trip and would be invaluable in keeping the cows in line on the ride back.

  Weston Chapman had purchased three-thousand head of cattle and about fifty horses. It was Caleb’s job to get the cattle and horses back home safely.

  Caleb handpicked every man that came on the journey with him from Nebraska. He figured that they would need at least another two dozen men, if not more, to handle the herd northbound. He put Goodie in charge of finding most of the men.

  When the small group arrived in San Angelo, Goodie got to work hiring nearly twenty-five men to help with the cattle drive back to Nebraska. Caleb and Tot worked to procure all the supplies needed to feed that many men, along with several wagons, more ammunition, and everything they might need, or think they would need, on the ride home.

  “What’s up, boys?” Caleb asked, biting into his apple.

  “We’re going to grab some vittles and then settle down. You need anything before we tuck in for the night?”

  Goodie Jones had been with the Chapmans for nearly ten years. He arrived at the ranch with his older brother when he was scant sixteen years old. Picked up cattle herding as if he had been born to do it. His real name was Elmer, but the boys called him Goodie two-shoes because his behavior was impeccable around Marmee.

  Jason “Slim” Driskill had just turned twenty-three. He came to the Chapman ranch when he was ten. His mother had married Bill Driskill, who was one of the first cowboys that Weston Chapman hired. Jason didn’t think twice about taking Bill’s last name after his mother married the old cowboy. When he was young, Jason was short and stocky, but then overnight it seemed he grew nearly a foot and all the extra weight fell off. He was at least a good six inches taller than most of the cowboys on the ranch. Someone called him Slim and the name stuck.

  Caleb looked at the sky. The sun was setting and soon it would be completely dark. “Tell the boys to get a good night’s sleep, we leave in the morning. Oh, and you might want to get a good dinner. Looks like a lot of beans and fatback on the trip home.”

  Goodie grumbled, “T’ain’t it always?” He tapped Slim on the shoulder, “I heard they are having steak at the café tonight. We should go before they sell out.”

  “Might wanna hurry, boys,” Tot said. “I’m sure there are hundreds of hungry cowpokes there by now.”

  After the two cowboys left, Caleb turned to Tot. “You making dinner tonight?”

  “Nah, I don’t want to unload everything again. Figured I’d go to the saloon and get myself some dinner and maybe a beer.”

  Caleb raised his eyebrow at the old man. “You don’t drink.”

  “I know. But I’m sure halfway through New Mexico I’ll be thinking that I should have had that beer, if only to carry me through the rest of the trip.” Tot grabbed his hat from a nail on the side of the wagon. “You coming?”

  “You know Marmee would kill me if I walked into a saloon.”

  “Marmee is back in Nebraska.”

  Caleb laughed. “She would know. Believe me, she would know.”

  Tot laughed. “Your Ma is a good woman.”

  “That she is.” Caleb looked at his friend. “So, I guess I’m going to get in line with the rest of the cowpokes. You gonna join me?”

  Tot thought about it for a minute. “Well, I’d hate to be on the receiving end of Ingrid Chapman’s disapproval. I guess I can wait.”

  Caleb fed the rest of his apple to Blaze, who was begging from the pen right next to the wagon. The horse gobbled up the apple and then tried to eat Caleb’s shirt. Caleb pulled back and gave the horse a rub on the forehead. “You behave,” he said.

  Blaze shook his head, his mane moving wildly. He gave a whinny that sounded like a laugh.

  Caleb laughed and followed Tot towards the café.

  Tot was correct.

  Dinner was a chaotic affair.

  The line was out the door of the café. Many showed up with their plate, cup, and silverware. Realizing this was the last chance the men would have for a real meal before they would be eating dust and beans, Caleb wasn’t surprised that many of them were in line.

  He didn’t recognize all the faces, but he knew that several of them would be on the road with him before sunup the following morning. Caleb stood patiently in line with Tot. When he got to the front of the line, he dropped two dimes on the counter.

  A woman with frizzy red hair and bright red lips stood behind the counter. She blinked several times as she looked at the money on the counter.

  “It’s only ten cents.”

  Caleb signaled to Tot. “It’s for both of us.”

  The woman behind the counter nodded. “Thought I was going crazy for a minute. Everything has been the same up until now.” She took the dimes and put them in the drawer. “Coffee?”

  “Please,” Caleb said, holding out his cup. The woman poured something that looked more akin to tar, than coffee in his cup. Tot held out his cup. Caleb saw him grimace as the thick brew filled his cup.

  “Don’t know if that’s worth drinking,” he whispered to Caleb as they made their way down the line to where a man was slopping out food with a ladle.

  Caleb held out his plate and a man placed a charred piece of meat, along with some potatoes and a biscuit smothered in gravy on it. Caleb winced. It was unreasonable to expect Tot to cook the night before leaving, but compared to the slop in front of him, Caleb was looking forward to beans and cornbread.

  They carried their food from the café to the wag
ons waiting near a temporary pen. Men sat on the ground and shoveled food in as quickly as they could before the flies landed on it. Caleb sat on a log next to the temporary pen. Tot sat next to him.

  “I am looking forward to a real steak once we get back home,” Caleb said, taking a bite of the overcooked meat. He pointed at Tot with his fork. “You could probably teach these folks a thing or two about cooking.”

  “Nah. I’d rather save my talent for our hungry men.” Caleb watched Tot cut off a piece of meat and drag it through the gravy before popping it in his mouth. “Gravy can hide a multitude of sins.” He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Looks like your Pa got a good bunch of cattle.”

  Caleb looked at the huge herd of cattle peppering the landscape just outside of town. Their silhouettes cast dark shadows as the sun continued to set. “That he did. Nice bunch of horses, too. Owen and Ollie should be happy.”

  “Looks like you are going to be set.”

  “What do you mean?” Caleb threw the rest of his coffee in the dirt.

  “Heard your Pa was thinking of retiring.”

  “Retiring?” Caleb scoffed. “I don’t think Weston Chapman is going to slow down anytime soon.”

  “Ranching is hard work. Takes its toll on a man. Might be time for him to retire and his sons to step up to the plate.”

  “Owen and Oliver are focusing on the horses. Everett and I are doing everything we can for the cattle side of things.”

  Tot nodded. “Yep. It’s in good hands.”

  Before Caleb could question Tot further, Goodie walked up to where they were sitting.

  “Boss, just heard something you might want to hear.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Brodie Richards is out of jail and he’s headed this way.”

  Chapter 3

  Ten weeks later, The Sand Dunes of Colorado

  Caleb pulled the bandana over his nose and mouth. The dust was suffocating. Not only were the cattle kicking up dust, but then it was being whipped around by the wind. Caleb knew he’d be tasting dirt for the next month. It filled everything.