“All right, you hitch up the team. I’ll go to the bank and get a draft for eight hundred dollars.”
“Forgive me, lass, for being a bit o’ the skep-tic,” McMurtry said. “But will the bank be for honoring your draft?”
Thornton cleared his throat. “I’ll speak up for the girl,” he said. “She handles all the business for the family.”
“Why is that now? Herself being a woman?” McMurtry asked.
“Because the truth is, her brothers are so downright ornery that nobody wants to have anything to do with them,” Thornton answered. He touched the brim of his hat. “Forgive me, Revelation, for speakin’ ill of your kin.”
“When it’s the truth, there’s no need to apologize,” Revelation said. “Mr. Thornton, if you don’t mind, I’ll just leave the buckboard here for a while longer. Either I or one of my brothers will call for it later.”
“That’ll be fine,” Thornton said.
“I’ll be right back with your money,” Revelation said to McMurtry.
Both men watched as the young woman walked toward the bank. Then Thornton turned to McMurtry. “Well, don’t just stand there, man. Get the team hitched up.”
Long Shadow Ranch:
After Billy Swan put his cows in with the traveling herd, all four boys bunked at Long Shadow while making preparations to leave. This worked no hardship on the ranch, as the bunkhouse was empty, that condition having come about when, to a man, all the hands left with the Bexar Fusiliers. Bob Ferguson’s mother had been cooking for the ranch for many years, so it was an easy thing for her to cook for the young men.
James Cason slept and ate in the bunkhouse as well, though his mother would have preferred that he continue to live in the main house.
“After all, you are going to be gone a long time,” she argued.
But Garrison defended James’s choice to sleep in the bunkhouse, reminding his wife that her son would be living very closely with the young men for all the time they were gone, and it was a good thing that they start getting used to doing everything together now.
“Then perhaps I’ll just clean the place up for them. I’m sure the cowboys left it a mess.”
“Alice Cason, you’ll do no such thing,” Garrison said. “There are some places that are a man’s domain, and the bunkhouse is one of those places.”
“Betty Ferguson goes in the bunkhouse all the time,” Alice protested.
“That’s different. Mrs. Ferguson cooks for the outfit, and she always has.”
“May I remind you that there is no outfit anymore?” Alice said. “Your cowboys have all gone to war, every single one, leaving you high and dry.”
“That’s where you are wrong, Alice. We have a fine company of young men now.” Garrison looked pensive for a moment. “I just hope they are able to persuade a few others to go with them.”
Mrs. Ferguson was already serving supper when Duke Faglier came in. He took his hat off, hung it on a peg, then washed his face and hands at the basin.
“Sorry I’m late, Mrs. Ferguson,” Duke said as he dried his hands.
“That’s quite all right, Duke. The food is still warm.”
“Any luck?” James asked, passing the mashed potatoes to Duke as he sat down. The others looked toward Duke as he answered.
Spooning the mashed potatoes onto his plate, Duke shook his head slowly. “None. There’s nobody left in the entire county who is willing to ride for forty and found. Especially if they have to wait until the cattle are delivered before they are paid.”
“I’m not surprised,” Dusty Ferguson said.
“Why’s that, Pop?” Bob asked. “Forty and found seems a reasonable enough wage.”
“Oh, it was at one time. But now most of the young men have gone off to war. Those who are left are at a premium, and they know it.”
“What are we going to do, James? I don’t think the four of us can handle a herd this large.”
James sighed. “I guess about the only thing we can do is cut back on the size of the herd.”
“Cut back how much?” Billy asked.
“I’d say by half.”
Duke chuckled.
“What is it?” Billy asked. “What’s so funny?”
“Now I know what it’s like to be a big rancher,” Duke said. “I’ve just lost half my herd, and I haven’t even started yet.”
The others laughed with him.
“If that is all that befalls you during this adventure, you’ll consider yourselves lucky enough,” Dusty said.
Chapter Eight
“The herd is gathered,” Billy Swan said to James, as he swung down from his horse. “Bob and Duke are watching them now.”
“Good,” James answered, almost offhandedly. He had his hands on his hips and was looking at the three wagons he had lined up in front of him. He shook his head slowly.
“What’s the problem?” Billy asked.
“I thought sure we would be able to get at least one good wagon out of these three,” James replied. He pointed to them. “But even if I took parts off one to fix the other, I don’t think I could come up with a wagon that would make the trip. Like as not it would break down about halfway there, then we would be in worse shape than when we started.”
“Well, these are just little trap wagons, anyway,” Billy said, taking them in with a wave of his hand. “They aren’t really designed for a long trip.”
“I guess I’ll ride into town to see what I can find,” James said, starting toward his horse. “We can’t make the trip without a wagon.”
“ ’Tis sorry I am to be tellin’ you this, lad,” McMurtry said after James inquired about the purchase of a wagon. “But sure’n I sold my last wagon and team to the Scattergoods.”
“The Scattergoods?” James said. “You sold the last wagon in Bexar County to the Scattergoods?”
“To the lass, actually,” McMurtry said. “Reve lation bought the wagon and the team.”
“Why would you sell to people like that?” James asked.
“There’s really no big mystery as to why, lad. I had a wagon for sale, and the lass offered the askin’ price. ’Tis not for you to be tellin’ me now who I can and who I can’t sell to.”
In frustration, James ran his hand through his hair. “You’re right,” he said. “But I still need a wagon. Are you sure you don’t have a wagon you can sell?”
“The only wagons I have left I’m usin’ for the freight line,” McMurtry said. “I’ve none to spare.”
“Do you know where a wagon can be had?”
McMurtry shook his head. “Sorry, lad, I don’t.”
It was late afternoon by the time James returned to Long Shadow. The others were already sitting at the supper table when he arrived. All of them looked toward him, the unasked question on their faces.
“No wagons to be found—anywhere,” James said, disgustedly.
“When I was working at the stable, Mr. McMurtry told me he had a wagon for sale,” Duke said. “What happened to it?”
James forked a pork chop onto his plate before he answered. “He sold it to Revelation Scattergood,” James said glumly.
The Scattergood Spread:
“Would you mind tellin’ me just what the hell we need with a wagon like that?” Matthew Scattergood asked his sister.
“It’s the last wagon of its kind within a hundred miles of here,” Revelation explained.
“So?” Matthew asked.
“Wait a minute, Matthew, I think I’m be ginnin’ to see what Revelation is talkin’ about,” Mark said. “If this here is the last wagon of its kind, and we own it, why, I reckon we can sell it for just about anything we want to ask for it.”