Dare to Love a Gunfighter: A Western Romance

By Buck Immov

Annawest's heart knew right away. "This is the one," it said.
"Don't you remember? "said her brain. "You can't have forgotten!"
"But he is perfect," said her heart. "Look what we have in common: the West, horses, the Navajo, book learning. And Snakeskin is a big rancher; a girl like me can't marry a poor puncher. Daddy and everybody else would throw a fit. And he smells so good. And he is so handsome."
"How quick come the reasons for approving what we like. End quote," said her brain.
"And he is brave," said her heart.
"Brave, brave," said her brain. "You know what happened to all the brave men Annawest fell for. She tends their graves. Do you want Annawest to go through that again?"
"No but...He's a peaceful man. He talks his way out of trouble."
"He was a bounty hunter; do you think his old enemies will listen?" replied her brain. "Will your father? You know your father's mind is beginning to go."
"No," said her heart.
"Yes," said her brain. Your father is very angry about this Snakeskin's new ways of ranching. Angry because Snakeskin's new ways are right and his old ways are wrong. Your father doesn't argue about the new ways any more. He goes and cleans his guns. There is a range war coming."
"No."
"Then," said her brain, "why have they both hired gunfighters?"
"Then Annawest can make Snakeskin give up his ranch and move east. Get a safe job in a department store. She can get him to do that."
"Snakeskin could never forgive Annawest for that. Or himself."
"What? Why..."
"Because he backed down. Don't pretend you don't know western men," said her brain. "Annawest should forget him. Go east. Marry a nice businessman. Have a dozen kids. She could come back and visit the family whenever She wanted."
"But he might marry! Annawest would have to see him in another woman's arms. This heart could not stand that! This heart would see him dead first. I would rather stop beating than see that."
"Annawest always listens to you and not me" said her brain, "but this time she will pay for it. Her young man could lose his life. Her father could lose his."
"Annawest has to stop it."
"How?"
"I don't know but she will; even if it costs her own life," said her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Buck Immov
• Release date: Jun 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005949297

Buck Immov

About the AuthorI grew up in a small town in the middle of the Colorado Rockies. I fished and hunted and rode horses over Saddleback Pass to fish the upper Frying Pan River. Up there, Colorado was still Colorado. You could catch a hundred fish a day, if you wanted to. The deer would walk into camp, look around, shrug their shoulders, and walk on down to the lake. One thing about a Rocky Mountain fishing trip, you don’t have to go down to the creek for water, just leave a bucket out for 15 minutes and you are all set. On the few occasions it doesn’t rain, you get dew and then all you have to do is to swish the bucket through the grass a few times and you have enough water for coffee and soup. If you have any washing to do, you put the clothes under a bush and hit it with a stick. You had better use a long stick, though. Raincoats are a help, but you have to put them on before you get out of the car. Otherwise your hands are too cold to fasten the snaps. It used to take me three days to thaw out enough to straighten my knees after I got home from the Frying Pan River...........four if the weather was cloudy.I remember being a real little kid riding with Daddy when he was feeding his cows on the Hayden ranch. He would open one corner of the bag of oats, half-open open the pickup doors, hang the bag outside, and drive along scattering oats with one hand and steering with the other. One time he got stuck and couldn't dig out. He told me to wait there and, in a little while, here came Mommy in the other car. What excitement!I graduated from a couple colleges, Reed and the University of Oregon, and got a job as a professional diver, a marine biologist. We counted things or caught them: fish, sea fans, kelp, rocks, and mud. I learned about attending to business when the claw of the sea puss was hovering around my hind end. We used to put lines of 50 shark hooks inside the surf line to catch shovelnose sharks for research. (Shovelnose have great inner ears.) You had to sit in the skiff and wait for a chance, then run in and set the lines before a big wave threw the boat, together with a tangle of shark hooks, shark lines, and anchors, on top of us. Once I was about to pull the line and looked up and saw a huge wall of water coming. I remained calm and said calmly to the kid running the motor, "Point the boat toward the open sea and go that way."And he said, "Hunh?"Then I realized that calm had its drawbacks and did my D. Duck impression, "Go that way, go that way, go that way fast. Wak, wak, wak, wak !!!!!!!"Just before a wave breaks, it throws up a little spray. We went over three of them before we got outside. After a while, we went back in and pulled the lines. Got enough sharks to go on with.While I was doing research, I published about 25 articles on science. I also taught college for a while because when a diver gets old and decrepit and can't do his job any more, they fire him. The very reverse is true for a teacher. Recently, I decided to take a break from teaching for a while and write a book or two.

Book preview

These violent delights have violent ends.

-Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare,

The flowers, blue lupines, were pretty but covered with stinging hairs; Annawest had to pick them for her bridal bouquet. The bear came out of nowhere. It reared up and brought its paws down hard. The ground shook and Annawest fell at the bear's feet. It reared up again and raised its paws roaring in her father's voice. Annawest saw them smashing down at her face and woke up with a shriek. She sat up in bed. She could smell something burning.

She threw on a robe and rushed to the kitchen. There was nothing on the stove except the coffeepot. After a puzzled moment she opened the coffeepot lid. Smoke rose. There were coffee grounds in the pot, but no water. She quickly moved the pot onto the cool side of the woodstove and turned to Waypatoo. Waypattoo’s broad back was rigid in her black blouse. She was wearing a concho belt with the protective bearpaw symbol and two turquoise necklaces. She had laid another belt and necklace on the kitchen counter. Butter, flour, and cold water for biscuits were also sitting on the counter but Waypatoo was chewing one-seed juniper needles and chanting.

Waypatoo! said Annawest, What?

There are bad things coming. I just saw a black butterfly in the garden. And I dreams of Bear-Who-Is-Born-In-The-Mountains. He was digging for roots but found guns. I get out all my good luck jewelry and chew junipers for protections.

I saw that bear in my dreams, too, said Annawest.

Waypatoo spun around on the stool. He does not come to you much, she said. He brings warnings to you this time, I think.

Annawest thought for a moment. The only thing different, she said, is that new rancher and his barb-wire fence.

Devil's ropes, your daddy calls it, said Waypatoo. I see your daddy cleaning all his guns. I think you will go over to that new ranch this morning. I hear the new rancher is a young man. He sees you, he does not think of shootings, I think.

Um...I don't know, said Annawest.

Bear-Who-Is-Born-In-The-Mountains comes to tell you to look into your heart and mind, to think hard, and do somethings, said Waypatoo.

Does he? said Annawest.

Waypatoo reached back, picked up the belt and necklaces and handed them to Annawest. You put on these when you go and chew plenty of junipers for luck. And say 'Yaadillah' to chase the badness away.

Annawest dumped out the burned coffee grounds and scrubbed the bottom of the pot. All right, I'll go. She put belt, necklaces, and juniper on the kitchen table and began preparing breakfast.

After breakfast, which she barely tasted, Annawest went to her room and changed to riding clothes. She had ridden astride since she was a toddler and hated sidesaddles. This left her with a problem when she grew out of childhood: what to wear when riding. She had solved the problem with jodhpurs. A classmate had told her that jodhpurs were simply all the rage since Queen Victoria's diamond jubilee. A cream-colored blouse, a brown cowboy hat, Waypattoo’s turquoise, and cowboy boots completed her outfit.

She went out to the barn and saddled Joann. She used the Navajo saddle blanket. It was big enough to show the blue design of spider grandmother, the wise protector of the human race. After some thought, she left her shotgun behind.

About a mile from the new ranch, she found the tracks of three horses. She followed them to a muddy stream and then got off and examined closely. One horse had brand new shoes; the edges were still sharp and the brand name was still clear. That has to be Chuckie, Joann, she said to her horse. My little brother. Craddock and Old Pete, too, I'll bet. I'd better get over there.

She mounted up and urged Joann to a canter. She topped a low rise and pulled up. She could see over the dark green piñon trees. There were three riders looking into a broad shallow canyon from behind a pile of rocks. She could hear the ‘toc, toc, toc’ of a hammer from down in the canyon. She looked back to make sure the riders were not skylined, but the black firs on the mountains hid them well enough.

The rider's horses shifted restlessly with high heads and twitching tails; the older riders soothed their mounts with soft words and gentle pats. The youngest rider, a gangly teenage boy, ignored his horse and started to pull his rifle out of its scabbard. The rider next to him, an old man with a white moustache and an old-fashioned high-crowned hat, held out an admonitory hand and the boy put his rifle back and began to soothe his horse.

Her mind began to race. "I may have grown up without a mother, but I had Waypatoo and many fathers. And two of them are down there. Tryin' to get themselves killed."

Suddenly everything seemed spikey and sharp. The wind whirled the pointed yucca leaves, hissed in the prickly pear spines, and tossed the branches of the pinions. A gust threw a piñon branch into her face. Tar from the green cones smeared on her blouse. She looked at the indelible stain. "It doesn't take much to ruin things," she thought.

She pulled a juniper twig wrapped in an embroidered lace handkerchief out of her breast pocket. She hesitated, then put it in her mouth and chewed. She spat the juniper out, dabbed at her mouth with the handkerchief, folded it neatly, and put it back. Yaadillah, she said, Yaadillah, Yaadillah. Then she rode forward.

As she approached she saw he tallest rider, a strongly built man with a short black beard flecked with gray, replace brass binoculars in a worn leather case with an inscription on the lid, ‘Sgt. Roy Craddock, 4th Cavalry, US Army’. The top parts of the barrels of the binoculars were conical and only the eyepieces moved when he turned the knurled knob.

The cowboys backed away from rocks and began getting their guns ready. They jacked shells into the rifle chambers, turned the cylinders of their pistols so that live rounds were under the hammers, and checked their gunsights. The boy practiced a couple fast draws. She urged her horse forward.

She could hear them talking. The tall rider said, They’re using that devil’s rope for fence all right. And the one in the middle is wearing custom-made pistols.

Young Chuckie piped up, Well anybody can buy a custom pistol. Maybe he’s just putting on the style. Putting on the agony. Showing off.

Don’t go with the rest of his clothes, Craddock replied.

So what does that mean? said Chuckie.

It means, admonished the old man, that we are real careful ‘til we see how the land lies.

Pete, you ever see that horse before? said Craddock. You, Chuckie? The two other riders shook their heads.

I wouldn't even know what to call it, said Chuckie. The horse had a white coat peppered with reddish freckles.

Flea-bitten gray, said old Pete.

Wait, said Pete, gimme those lookers a minute, Roy. Pete rode back up to the boulders and used the binoculars to take a second look at the fencing crew. Then he came back and returned the binoculars. That big cowpuncher has a scar from a bullet on his left hand. Little one is missin’ the top of his near ear. Seems to me, Ah heared about a couple a punchers, partners, that looked jist about exactly like those two hands down there. Got into a shoot-out with four or five hard cases up above Rock Springs. They were the only ones walked away. They said one of them had a funny looking shotgun that turned out to be a repeater. Looked about like the one on the buckboard.

Joann nickered. The three riders jerked their heads around. Chuckie started to draw his pistol, stopped, and hit his forehead with his fist.

Chariots of fire! said Pete, What are you doin' here, Annawest?

I'm here to make sure this business is settled reasonably and without gunplay.

We aren't going to shoot unless they try to shoot first. Last thing I ever want is gunplay, said Craddock.

I've heard differently about you, said the girl.

That was ten, fifteen years ago, said Paddock defensively.

This is just like you, Sis, said Chuckie. Always pushing in where you aren't wanted.

She ignored him. I heard you talkin', she said. It sounds like they might be a rough bunch.

Yup, and ye had better get on home right now, said Craddock.

You want to talk instead of shootin', right? Tell me Mr. Craddock, she said, wouldn't they be more likely to talk if I was there?

Uh... By the lord Harry, Annawest... began Craddock.

No use tryin' to bulldoze her once she gits set, Roy, said old Pete. You're gonna have to back down.

I'd like to take a look for myself, Roy, if you don't mind, she said holding out her hand for the binoculars. He handed them to her without comment. She rode up behind the rocks and looked down.

She first looked at the buckboard tied in the shade of a cottonwood tree next to a big granite boulder. A gust of wind made the cottonwood leaves jerk and twist. The buckboard carried coils of barbed wire and a small water barrel. A shotgun was lashed to one side of the seat with a slipknot that could easily be jerked lose. She saw a 30-30 Winchester lying on the seat. She shifted her gaze to the men working next to the buckboard. Another Winchester rifle was propped up on a stump close behind them. A heavy-set man inexpertly nailing barbed wire to a fence post carried a pistol in his back pocket; the corner of the pocket was torn and the gun barrel protruded. A slight youth digging with a shovel wore an enormous Colt .45. It was so heavy that he had to lean sideways to balance himself.

The third cowboy was a wiry man of middle height with wavy blond hair. He wore a hat with a flat crown and a tear in the brim. The cuffs of his pants were frayed and muddy. He was carrying two .38 pocket pistols in snakeskin holsters, which rode low on his hips and fit the guns exactly. This man was evidently the boss, because, when the boy said something, he put down his coil of barbwire, walked over, inspected the hole, and, after a glancing back and forth, pointed to a spot on the ground and the boy began digging there.

Lot of guns down there, she said thoughtfully. But that boss: Tres beau. They waited for the translation. That boss is very good lookin', she said.

She dismounted, dropped the reins, and dug a purse out of her saddlebag. She pulled out a brush, took off her hat and released floods of strawberry blonde hair. She brushed her hair so that much fell forward and curled around her breasts. She pulled a blue bandana from the purse, folded it into a narrow band, and tied it tightly around her neck with the ends fluttering under her left ear. No real cowboy would wear it that way. She returned the brush to the purse and pulled out a match and a small mirror. She lit the match and immediately blew it out. She looked at the cowboys. Excuse me! she said. Do you mind!

Chuckie looked puzzled; the others turned their horses so that they faced away from her. A lady don't like to be watched when she's puttin' on makeup, said Craddock.

Yup, said Old Pete, that way she can claim she never did it.

Chuckie, she said returning the mirror to her saddlebag, pick me two of those yellow flowers.

She stuck one flower in her hatband and another in her horse's bridle. The cowboys noticed that she had unbuttoned the top two buttons on her blouse.

What are you doing, Sis? said Chuckie. You're going to talk to him, not marry him.

Sure about that, are you? said Old Pete.

All right, she said looking at Roy. We ride down there openly. Me in front. We go through the sagebrush so they can easily see us comin'. OK?

Craddock stuck his cigarette in the corner of his mouth. OK, he said, we do it your way. We unfasten the thongs holding our pistols in, though. We ever dismount, we hold our pistols down with our elbows. Understand this, Annawest: If I say so, you lie down flat right now. And when we're talkin' you stand next to somethin' you can lie down behind. You get that?

I get that.

That's good. 'Cause if you didn't we'd hog tie ye over a saddle and ride ye back to the ranch. Craddock looked at Chuckie. And you remember this: we keep our hands away from our guns until I say otherwise. You get that?

Yessir, said Chuckie, I listen for the word ‘Otherwise’.

And don't act smart. said the oldster.

One last thing, though, Annawest, said Craddock. If it comes to it, we can't afford to back down. We do that once, everybody would figure we would always do it. They'd rustle our cows, put off payin' us what they owe us, and shoot our riders. Even if we lived through that, and we probably wouldn't, it would be the end of the Salt Works Outfit.

You get that? said Chuckie.

I never...Quiet Chuckie, said Annawest. I never said... but Craddock had already started down into the canyon.

As soon as they crossed the ridge, the saddle horse tied to the buckboard raised her head and looked at them. The blond boss caught the movement and looked also. He turned sideways and said something to his crew. He dropped his off hand down by his holster and evidently unfastened the thong across his pistol, because the slight youth with the shovel losened his pistol in its holster, something that evidently drew a rebuke from the two older men because he quickly moved his hand away and started shoveling again, though he didn’t move much dirt. The heavy man put down his hammer and walked very casually over to the buckboard and got a drink from the cup chained to the barrel. He leaned back against the wagon so that the shotgun was right at his elbow. Craddock noticed that he had untied the lashing on the shotgun, though he had not seen him do it.

The blond boss raised his right hand and waved to the riders in a friendly fashion. Then he walked over to his horse and dug a bottle of whiskey out of a saddlebag and waved it at them. Craddock figured he had undone the thong on his left holster at some point. The youth stopped digging and leaned on his shovel without putting much weight on it.

Craddock said to Chuckie, Pete and I got to drink, but ye just smile and say no.

OK, said Chuckie.

The riders pulled up when they reached the fencing crew.

Good afternoon, said their boss. I’m real glad to meet you on this fine day. This here is Tim Sholtz and the stalwart young man is Eddy Koffpot. My name’s McMurtry. I bought a little land up in here. Going to run cattle.

Annawest thought a ‘little’ land meant a lot. If he had bought a small amount of land he would of said ‘some land’. It was good, too, that he intended to run cattle. That made an understanding more likely.

This here, said Craddock, is Pete Grey and the kid is Chuckie Quarll. I’m Roy Craddock. We work for Old Man Quarll at the Salt Works Ranch. The lady is Annawest Quarll.

McMurtry swept off his hat and made an old-fashioned vaquero's bow to Annawest. Pleased to meet you all, he said replacing his hat. We’re going to be neighbors. And like the good book says, neighbors should allus be friendly, get along, and help one another. Nothing in all the world more important. Nothing. And what do you say we step over in the shade and drink to that?

Sounds good to me, said Craddock and all dismounted.

McMurtry turned to his crew, That includes you boys too. Knock off for a little and have a drink.

They all walked over to the wagon. Craddock set his right heel against the boulder, and leaned back a little. He used his left hand for his cigarette, however, and let his right hand hang near his pistol. The others followed suit; the fencing crew set their backs against the wagon, the Salt Works men, against the boulder. Annawest started to lean back but decided it wasn't ladylike and stood up straight.

The bottle went around and finally came to Chuckie Quarll. He was thinking that the other kid had had a drink and didn’t look any older than he was. He held up a hand. Bit early in the day for me, thanks. He thought of something else he had heard. Last night is too clear in my memory, what I remember of it. Last Saturday night, I mean. He rubbed the side of his forehead with two fingers.

Koffpot grinned, I’ve woke up a few Sundays myself ready to take the pledge. Almost. Neither boy had ever done any heavy drinking.

Craddock drank and started to hand the bottle back. Annawest intercepted it and took a small nip herself before returning it.

That’s really good whisky, thanks, she said. So you bought land, instead of free grazin’?

Yup, said McMurtry, and there’s a sad story connected with that. I went to a big cattleman’s conference in Denver. I’m afraid your free grazing is about done.

Annawest frowned. I've had good friends of mine killed for talkin' like that.

McMurtry nodded sympathetically, Nothing more dangerous than having the right idea at the wrong time. But it's the right time now. All the big cattlemen were at that conference. I saw Chisum, Shanghai Pierce, Goodnight, Orwell Haley, even Ol’ Man Clanton. And there were forest service people, eastern money, college professors, and politicians. I never saw so many politicians.

Politicians! snorted old Pete.

Yup, well, said McMurtry, nodding his head, I know how they are.

Ah’d about rather have six Redskins than one dang politicians, said Old Pete.

Trouble with them, said McMurtry, you shoot an Indian you’re done with him, but if you shoot a politician you get another one before the body is cold. Any way, believe it or not, the politicians were doing more listening than talking.

Pete lowered his head, "Ah’d have to see that before Ah believed it".

I was amazed myself, said McMurtry. Any way the cattlemen weren’t saying anything everybody here doesn’t know about. We’ve all seen overgrazed range. Nothing but Texas croton, tumbleweed, and gullies. No use for anything. Can’t even fish for trout. Water’s too muddy.

Pete stood up straight and stuck his thumbs in his belt, "An how are them there politicians especially those double-danged federal politicians goin’ to help. They’re all bought with eastern money and you know that eastern money."

Yup, said Craddock. Those eastern tycoons, they buy some cattle and want their profits whether it ruins the range or not. And if the caporal doesn't follow their dirty orders, they fire him.

Yup, said McMurtry, nodding again, if they’d jis leave it up to men that actually ran the cattle, there wouldn’t be a problem. Any way I saw some of your caporals and cattlemen going to dinner and I says, ‘Excuse me gentlemen, but I’m jis a young man wanting to start up in the cattle business and it sounds like the rules have changed. I’d be happy to buy you dinner if you'd give me your opinions on that.’ Well, they wouldn’t let me buy anything but a round of drinks, but I made sure they got the best whisky.

And? said Annawest.

"Well, they were trying to ask the politicians to pass laws cutting back on free grazing. They all thought that, any more, the only way to raise cattle is to buy ranch land and take care of it. Irrigate and raise hay for the winter. Then you got to spread your hay out so all the cow pies ain’t all in one place. I mean aren’t in one place. Mom was a schoolmarm and she was allus saying, ‘There ain’t no such word as ain’t. But I keep forgetting."

Why do you want the cow pies spread out?

It’s fertilizer. Too little fertilizer is bad and so is too much. I don’t mean to give you the all overs, but you got to be a little bit of a plow chaser.

No harm in farmin’ hay, said Old Pete, "but looky here, how you goin’ to make enough money to make that worthwhile?"

"What you do, you get a Hereford bull and breed him to your longhorn cows. The cross will gain two-three hundred pounds more than a longhorn. And you get better beef. It’s a lot more work, though. You jis’ can’t shoot a cow that can’t deliver her calf. Too valuable. You got to get in there with a pigging string, rawhide lariat’s too rough, and help it get born. And if your calf dies and rots inside, you got to pull it out with a hay hook. Talk about a nasty job. And you always got to keep track of your cows. If a cow can’t give birth right, she’ll pass that on to her heifers so you got to sell them. This Scotchman there was amazed we didn’t know all our cows by sight. And give them names. It’s going to be a lot less fun. He pursed his lips for a second, then looked straight at Craddock, One thing you got to remember. You got to control your breeding. Breed a cross-bred cow to a longhorn bull, you get a longhorn and you're back where you started."

McMurtry paused, stood up straight with his legs slightly spread, and looked Craddock straight between the eyes, turned his eyes to look at Annawest, and then back to Craddock. So, he said, you can see why you got to put up fences. You can’t have stray cattle eating up your hay and you can’t have stray bulls breeding your cows. He paused. Get this straight, he said, I spent half my life raising money for this ranch, went into debt, and I’ll do whatever I got to protect it. And I can shoot straight when the bullets are flying. Good as any man who ever drew breath. If it comes to my ranch here, I'm not going to back down.

The horse's heads, which had begun to droop, came up again, their tails started switching, their mouths tightened, and wrinkles appeared above their eyes. The kids, who had been decorously silent, hooked both thumbs into their belts and eyed each other. Tim Sholtz stood up straight and put his hand on the buckboard near the shotgun. Old Pete remained leaning up against the boulder, but, with a motion of his hip, moved his gun to where he could easily draw it. McMurtry stayed relaxed, but his hands were at his sides and close to his guns.

Craddock dropped his cigarette, moved his boot off the boulder, and ground the cigarette out with its heel. He put both feet on the ground, stood up straight, and looked back at McMurtry. Ye know, he said with ominous quietness, "people get down on cattlemen when they run out the homesteaders, but what your plow chasers will do is fence off the water so the cows can’t get to it. That ain’t never right and it ain't anything we're goin' to be able to stand for. Comes to water, there ain't no back down to us Salt Works boys, either." A gust of wind hurled leaves and sand and cracked a branch in the cottonwood. None of the cowboys paid any attention.

Annawest quickly stepped between the two sides and held up one hand to each. Now you both just hold it right there. I know there is no back down to anybody here but we aren't tryin' to prove that. We are here to talk about water. Nobody has said anythin' about fencin' off water. She turned to McMurtry. We do need to water in Saddleback Creek.

Craddock gave Annawest an irritated glance. McMurtry gave a half-nod without taking his eyes off the Salt Works men. I can handle trouble, he said, but I've had enough in my life. I'd walk ten miles across an alkali desert in a blizzard to keep away from more. I'd be willing to put in five miles of extra fencing anywhere you want so you can get to water. That good enough?

I'd say it was, she said, Long as you stick to it. She looked at Craddock.

Yup, said Craddock But. We don't want you usin' that devil's rope fence. We don't want our cows tore up.

Annawest turned back to McMurtry, Do you have to use that stuff?

McMurtry spread his hands with his palms up, Why, barb wire’s the only way we can afford to fence on a big ranch. A rail fence would take forever to put up. You know how bad cowboys are at splitting rails or using an axe for anything. One drive I was on, we had to build kind of a log bridge over a river with a quicksand bottom. There were plenty of trees, but boy you should of seen those punchers try to turn them into logs. If the cook hadn’t of been good with an axe, we’d be there yet. And your cows will rub up against a rail fence and knock it down. You know that. They'll shy away from barb wire, though. Otherwise you couldn't raise them in cactus country.

Annawest dropped her hands to her hips. She looked down and kicked at a pebble. She ran her teeth across her lower lip. Um.., she said, might as well be honest. The problem is Daddy. He's...kind of set in his ways. She looked at the horizon for a moment then back at McMurtry. OK, let's go talk to him, you and me. We'll, start with that cattleman's confab and Herefords. Then we'll work into fence.

She looked at Craddock, who shrugged and nodded.

"And, chariots of fire, don’t never mention no sheep," put in Old Pete.

Well, said Snakeskin, "I'd never ruin cattle range with sheep cropping the grass too low, but a cow won't put on weight above timberline so that ain't...isn't cattle range up there and there is plenty of grass...

Annawest threw up her hands. Stop! Don't every mention the word 'sheep'. Don't even think the word 'sheep'. That's like using a barrel of black powder for an ashtray - a cigar ashtray. We have enough trouble with free grazin', Herefords, and that devil's rope fence. Oh mi vache! Use a little common sense at least.

That bad?

That bad.

She took a deep breath and said, Maybe it would be best if me and Mr. McMurtry, here, went in first. You three could check the east windmill before you come in. She looked at Craddock who thought a moment and nodded. Pete put his fist to his mouth to hide a grin.

Annawest caught it. After a flicker of annoyance, she gave a small shrug and moved a little closer to McMurtry.

The horses lost the wrinkles above their eyes, their heads dropped back down, and their tails now twitched only to flies. One horse pulled against his reins to get at a bunch of clover. The men had taken their thumbs out of their belts and leaned back again.

McMurtry turned to his men, You guys leave the fencing where it is, take the wire back to the barn, and start work on that reservoir we were talking about. I might be late coming back so don’t forget to knock off for supper. He turned back to the Salt Works riders. We’re going to dam that little north fork of Saddleback Creek. Any objection to that?

Nope.

The fencing crew gathered their tools. The Salt Works hands mounted up. McMurtry’s horse stamped and shifted around and drew a glance from Craddock. He did a double take and quickly looked away. McMurtry’s second rifle was a Whitworth. Craddock knew Whitworths. "Custom-made pistols, a long-range rifle, a Winchester rifle, and two gun hands. By the great horn spoon, he’s ready for trouble."

___________________________________________

GLOSSARY

Ain’tagonna – Refers to an unlikely event, i.e., viz., to wit, 'will not'.

Burning the breeze – High velocity movement

Buscadero - Gunfighter

Cutting a Rusty – Courting

Dry-gulch – To murder in an inappropriate fashion

Give the Mitten - To terminate a romantic relationship

Ganted - Starving (animal)

Hoodathunkit - Who would ever have considered such a thing possible? (Chiefly West Texas).

Mizewell – Said of an alternative that is just as good as any alternate alternative, e.g., Mizewell get a drink while we're in town.

Mudsill– Degenerate, depraved, and vicious person, i.e., Not our sort.

Rainch - Ranch. To pronounce the diphthong correctly, one must hold the nose and say, AAAEEE.

Shiheart – Navajo term of endearment

Stainchable - Durable and able to withstand strain. Again, a non-native must hold his or her nose to attain the correct pronunciation.

Too much mustard – Said of egregiously boastful statements

Whyncha – Used to indicate an advantageous course of action, e.g., Whyncha use a shovel instead of a fork; you could eat faster.

Chapter 2 – Cherchez la Femme

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

-Jane Austen

Annawest and McMurtry rode away from the Salt Works riders. She looked him over. His red shirt, faded from many washings, was tight at the shoulders, loose at the waist, and almost out at the elbows. "We'll have to do something about those clothes," she said to herself.

He had high cheekbones, firm chin, and either long stubble or a short beard. There was no hesitation in his movements and a certain grace. His mare's coat gleamed. Its hooves were neatly trimmed. Bridle and latigo were clean, flexible and showed no signs

of thinning or wear. His horse's head was down and her neck cheerfully arched. Annawest had a quick eye for that sort of thing.

Annawest turned towards McMurtry and smiled. Tiny crows-feet appeared at the corners of her eyes. She raised her arm and fussed with her hair it a bit. She opened her mouth slightly and her tongue appeared for a second. McMurtry noticed all this. He had a quick eye for such things.

I guessed who you probably were when I saw you coming down, he said. There couldn't be two women that pretty here in Maxwell Park. It ain't...isn't big enough.

Well, thank you.

I think I'd like to get to know you better, but I can't be sure till I know you better. So I better get to know you better. You know?

Annawest smiled.

Did I get your name right? Annette?

"No, my mother's name was Anna so they put my first and middle names together: Annawest. Might I ask what your first name is Mr. McMurtry?"

Well, Mom was a schoolmarm from the East and she gave me an eastern name. I don't use it. Keep it secret, even.

You must go by some sort of a cognomen, she said.

Well, yup I do. Bet you're surprised that I know the word. Mom was a schoolmarm...

So you told us.

... in Utah. She was captured by the Dineh...Navajo. They took her to Navajo Mountain down by the Arizona border. And do you know she ended up teaching them? English and sewing machines. She and Dad had a trading post, later. I was raised with Dineh kids.

Diné bizaadísh dinitsʼaʼ? she said.

Aoo', he said. How come you speak that language?

My foster mother, Waypatoo, is Navajo. But you didn't answer my question.

We got a lot in common I think, he said. Like horses. You ever race that horse?

A little.

By the looks of her, you'd beat her easy.

Annawest laughed and patted her horse. Don't pay any attention to him Joann, she said. He's just jealous because his horse is so much slower.

Oh yeah? The only way to make your horse fast is to not feed her.

Annawest laughed again. All right, let's race to that lone cottonwood. The loser has to humbly bow and apologize to the winner's horse.

Long as we look out for gullies. When do we start?

Annawest smacked her horse on the rump and took off. Now, she shouted over her shoulder.

Four-flusher! Chiseler! he shouted, grinning, and started after her.

Both horses liked to race and to win. They tore across the park leaping gullies and dead branches. His horse was gaining, slowly, when a gully appeared in front of them. Joann shortened her stride, arched her back, swung her rear legs forward, and flew over the gully. Annawest responded by lifting herself from the saddle and loosening the reins. They landed easily and ran on. McMurtry horse also shortened her stride and swung her rear legs forward but then changed her mind and stopped dead. McMurtry did not. He flew off his horse and landed in the gully with a thump. Luddy mussy! he hollered and started laughing.

Annawest noticed and came back. You all right? she said.

McMurtry moved his right leg back and forth and side to side. Yup, he said. He led his horse out of the gully and got back on.

One thing I got...have to tell you though, he said.

What?

He spurred his horse, which leaped into a gallop. This race ain't over! he shouted over his shoulder.

Le cul! she shouted and started after him.

He won by a nose.

Ok, he said, now you've got to curtsy to my horse and apologize.

You cheated!

So did you.

You fell off.

Yup but I got back on.

Tell you what, I'll apologize to your horse if you apologize to mine," he said.

I'm sorry... she began.

No, he said, you got to get off your horse and curtsy.

You first!

He swung off his horse, faced Joann, swept off his hat and did his deep vaquero's bow. I sincerely apologize for saying you are slow horse. You are really a fast horse. I hope you can find it in your horsy heart to forgive me. He pulled a carrot from his pocket and offered it to Joann who accepted.

Your turn, he said offering Annawest a second carrot.

She dismounted and gave McMurtry's horse a perfectly elegant curtsy, I apologize for thinkin' you were slow. You are a good, fast horse and you didn't cheat even if somebody else did. She offered the carrot on the flat of her hand. The horse took it and she petted the horse on the cheek. Nice horse, she said.

What's le cul? said McMurtry.

I went to an eastern school and learned to swear in French, she said. It's more ladylike.

They remounted and started for the ranch at a walk. Annawest became aware of a good smell. She looked around. McMurtry was fanning himself with is hat, "Little warm after that ride, he said.

You may stop fannin' your effluvia towards us, Mr. McMurtry, she said. Joanna and I can smell you very well.

Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to send my stink..."

You smell very good, Mr. McMurtry. Like leather and sage and prairie grass with just a soupcon of old grizzly bear.

What's a soupcon?

A smidge, she said.

Oh, well if you like it, I'll keep doing it, he said. But he stopped and put his hat back on.

Why do you have two rifles? she asked. Have you been watching too much Macbeth?

Shakespeare did have a bad case of the twosies in that play, didn't he? Never figured out why. But no, I carry two rifles so Betty Bea is balanced and don't...doesn't walk in circles.

She smiled and gave him a skeptical look.

Well, all right. This, he tapped one rifle, is a Whitworth. Single shot and hard to load but real good at long range. I use it for warning shots. Makes a fearful howl. Stops a gunfight before it starts.

Do you do that a lot? she asked.

Well... he said.

Oh! she said and pulled her horse to a stop. She turned toward him. Oh! You are him! You are Snakeskin McMurtry! Bounty hunter and kill...That's why you were bein' so evasive.

Look, he said, the reason I try to keep away from telling people who I am before they git to know me. They git all scared. They think I'm trigger-happy, they think I like to kill people. I don't. I'm not. I ain't even on the shoot. I don't care who the top gunfighter is. All I want is a peace and quiet.

Then why the fearsome reputation? she asked.

I told you. I'm good at shooting. Anybody needs a gunfighter, they come to me.

Then why, she asked, don't you say no?

Sometimes you got to go. You can't have people thinking you are a yaller-belly. One reason I got a big ranch was so I don't have to go on possies any more. She said nothing, but touched her horse to a walk. He followed. Do you understand? he said.

Yes, she said slowly, I think I do. And I believe you. I get feelings about people.

But she was quiet for the rest of the ride into the Salt Works.

In the pine-covered hills of Colorado,

When the evening stars are shining cold and clear,

And the drovers tell their stories 'round the campfire,

The tale of Sarah Hogan you will hear.

-John Lowell I am Going to the West. CD Baby, 2012

Chapter 3 - Gathering Storm

Coyote is always out there waiting, and Coyote is always hungry.

-Traditional

The three Salt Works riders halted on a small hill and looked back at Annawest and Snakeskin.

He’d have to be awful fussy if he don't like her looks, said Craddock. Always kind of reminded me of an antelope. You know, those eyes. An' the way she moves.

Too tarnal pretty if you ask me, said Chuckie. We wore out more horses runnin’ off those sapheads she'd take up with than we ever did punchin’ cows. I never saw a smart woman like her take up with worse men.

Might be a good thing after all, said Craddock, her gettin’ kicked out of that eastern school.

They all knew Annawest had been expelled for a display of trick riding that had stunned and terrified her audience. It would not have been so bad if it had not been a formal horse show wherein both women and horses had all loose hair in tight buns and all fingernails and hooves were brightly varnished. Further, the women wore top hats and face veils. Annawest been informed that, though indeed it took skill to take a jump at a gallop whilst standing on the saddle, it still just wasn’t done in polite society. And putting a top hat and a face veil on a horse was, furthermore, not funny. Anna’s reply was not done in polite society, either.

Chuckie suddenly straightened up. His horse jerked up its head, tightened its mouth, and gave a crow-hop. Oh! he said. "You mean it’ll give my dad somebody to leave the ranch to. That jis’ bites my hind end! As if he hadn’t rustled cattle by the herd himself. And run with outlaws. It ain’t fair. Even if there were some of Dad's cows in that herd we rustled, it was because Ol’ Ruction had stole them from him. And I wouldn’t have let him sell them. Or if they did, I would have give Dad the money. He is just so tarnal quick to believe the worst of me. It ain’t fair. It ain’t. Maybe I deserved a whuppin’, but I did not deserve to lose my whole share of the ranch!"

Lord, cool off, said Craddock. I meant ye won’t have to keep runnin’ off them four-flushers and hard-cases ye was cryin’ about.

An too, said Pete, it ain’t jist you. Lately he’s been a lot rougher on all of us. Used to be a lot easier to get along with. Ah dunno. He chewed his moustache. Worries me.

Chuckie calmed down. His forehead wrinkled. You think...

Ah dunno, Ah jist don’t.

They sat musing for a minute.

Old Man Quarll and McMurtry will be the biggest ranchers in the park, said Craddock. McMurtry didn't sound all that unreasonable.

Acted like he was tryin' to be easy to get along with, said Chuckie.

Pete looked at them. You did know he was Snakeskin McMurtry, didn't you?

Craddock straightened up, By the lord Harry, you're right. Have to be.

Who's he? said Chuckie.

He's a curly wolf if there ever was one, said Craddock. Don't think even Laughin’ Sam Cary would go up against him.

Not if he was smart, said Pete. What Ah’ve heard, he’s am-bye-dex-tie-russ. That means you can use one hand jist as easy as the other. So he shoots quick with one and careful with the other. He’s supposed to be as fast as Luke Short and as good with Kentucky windage as Wild Bill Hickok. Ah got that from Waco L’Amour. Yeah, Waco said he wouldn’t go up against him. ‘Bout only time Ah ever heard Waco say that.

What’s Kentucky windage? said Chuckie.

When your bullet leaves the gun, it starts to drop, so you got to aim high at long range. But it’s real hard to figure how much. Not a lot of men can do it. Need a good gun, too. You remember those custom-made pistols.

Craddock shook his head, Snakeskin McMurtry and Old Man Quarll. By the lord Harry.

I wonder how he’s doin’ with Annawest? said Chuckie. Loan me the binoculars, Roy and let me get behind you. She’d bite my head off if she caught me. He watched a minute. Oh-oh, I know that look. He lowered the binoculars, ducked his head, raised his hand to his throat, pulled his shirt open slightly, fluttered his eyelashes, and curled his lips into a smile.

Pete chewed his mustache, Say what you want about marriage, it's a real good way to stop a range war. Next time we get a chance, we'll have to tell him about how good it is to have a wife

Yeah, well, said Craddock, let’s get over to the windmill.

Chapter 4 - Old Man Quarll

If everything isn't black and white, I say,

'Why the hell not?'

-John Wayne

It was late afternoon when the three cowboys rode into the stables. They groomed their horses thoroughly, leaning heavily on the brushes to remove loose hairs and dead skin. They didn’t use the usual currycombs because Quarll believed in treating horses as gently as possible. They used hoof picks to scrape the mud and straw out of their horse's hooves and then examined the hooves for stones and loose nails. Only then did they saunter up to the ranch house.

The central part of the house stood two stories tall and was made of hand-planed white clapboards. The porch had a gable end portico over the central door. A matching cross gable was set into the main roof over the portico. Dark green gingerbread decoration lined all the eaves. Connected to the side of the main house was the original cabin. It was made of unpainted hand-hewn logs fitted with dovetail notches at the ends. The logs were dark brown with age and seamed with cracks. The clay calking had fallen out in several places. An open dogtrot connected the other side of the central house to a white clapboard cookhouse.

The three Salt Works cowboys went in through the back door of the central house. They walked across the main house to the door of the old cabin. The floor between the cabin and the back door was the only part of the central house that showed any wear at all.

Inside the cabin, the air smelled of gun oil. Quarll’s desk was an old faro table with small drawers. The cards had been worn off, mostly. There was enough gold paint left so that it was just possible to make out ‘Buck the Tiger’ across the customer’s side of the table. Only the tail was left of the tiger itself. The desk was covered with guns and gun cleaning equipment. A pipe rack with six pipes with their stems bitten through had been pushed to the front of the desk. The bowl of one pipe was carved like the head of a longhorn steer; one of the horns was missing. A rug made out of a cowhide with most of the hair worn off it lay in front of the desk.

Next to Quarll’s desk was big round table made of warped pine. Piled on this table were ancient bills and letters, leather folders full of papers, mason jars full of horseshoe nails and buckles, seven spurs (three broken four not), two boxes of shells that did not fit any gun in the house, a cigar box holding six broken arrowheads, two rattlesnake rattles and three mousetraps, and an open brown leather account book with lines labeled steers, cows, heifers, calves, and doggies followed by dozens of tally-marks in pencil. Behind the table, a pair of elk horns were nailed to wall. Three quirts, two suits of unmentionables, and a high-crowned hat hung from these horns.

Annawest was leaning against the pine table. She had appropriated the wastebasket, a wooden barrel with no top, which was filled with oily rags and newspapers. She had also excavated six stained coffee cups and stacked them at her elbow.

Quarll was of middle height, but looked shorter because his body was so broad. His hands were big and seamed with scars and rope burns. He had a rattrap mouth under a thick, gray moustache, and hard black eyes that could turn mean in an instant. His skull was broader at the back and flattened behind giving his head a triangular appearance. Some called him ‘Old Horny Toad’, but never to his face. One puncher had said of him, He looks like he means it. He still did, though age had added fat to his belly, several chins to his throat, and left him bald except for a horseshoe fringe of white hair over his ears and around the back of his head.

As they came in, Quarll was saying, "John Chisum said that?"

Yup, said Snakeskin, "And there was real general agreement."

Unh, growled Quarll, "times always do change. Sure ain’t like it