The Ogallala Trail Page 3

  What was Etta Faye Ralston doing out there? All his life, Etta Faye had been the beauty no one could touch. Growing up, she kept boys at a distance and she always wore the finest dresses to school. With her chin stuck out and her head high, she must have—Sam always figured—been coached by her mother every day that she was a lady, despite those nasty farm boys who put toads in her apron pocket and lizards in her lunch pail. Why she could honest to God shiver and make disgusting noise like no other female he’d ever known about things she found repulsive.

  He reined up Rob short of her and the big horse lowered his head and snorted in the road dust. He removed his hat and wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve.

  “Howdy, ma’am.”

  “Good day, Samuel.” She acted preoccupied with her driving horse, who had finished getting a drink.

  “Nice day,” Sam said, looking at the cloudless sky. “What brings you out here?”

  “The school board asked me if I would be the teacher out here at the school for the next session. There are several students out here that apparently cannot get into Frio Springs to attend classes.”

  “Etta Faye, have you ever taught school?”

  “I am fully accredited as a qualified teacher by the Texas State Teachers’ Board.”

  So there. He’d done it again, gone and affronted that woman. Why, she fluffed up on that seat like a setting hen guarding a nest full of eggs. And she would’ve pecked him if he’d got close enough. He dropped his gaze to the saddle horn. Looking at that fine, ripe figure wasting away was a bitter disappointment to him, but he sure didn’t know how to break through the guard she kept up.

  “As I recall you never liked toads, lizards and snotty-nosed kids. How in the Sam Hill are you going to tolerate a roomful of them?”

  “Well, you know I consider a good education as important for each individual child and I have been taught the skills for that purpose.”

  “But Etta Faye where will you board?”

  “Mrs. Fancher has agreed to board me for the session.”

  He nodded in approval. The widow woman on Stony Creek over the hill—that might work. But still—

  “I shall drive Chelsea out of the branch now,” she said and clucked to the dish-faced mare who came on the road next to him. “You may not know, but I taught school last year for two weeks while Miss Ches ter was ill.”

  He shook his head amazed at the notion. “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “I’m sorry that you of all people obviously have such a low opinion of my professional skills.”

  “Did I say that?”

  “No. But I can certainly tell by the tone of your voice and the demeanor of our conversation that you do not feel like I would be adequate for this position.”

  “Lord, Lord, Etta Faye. Hold on. Why I think you’d be overqualified for every thing, but handling the real things.”

  “Real things?”

  “A dead mouse in your desk drawer.”

  Unfazed by his words, she smiled in her condescending way. “Samuel Ketchem, I might surprise you.”

  He nodded. You will if you last. Maybe she would. He hated to underestimate her. Besides, having her in the community for three months to look at wasn’t so bad either. There would be social events, pie suppers and dances. He could hope against hope that under her icy exterior was a real woman to go with the body.

  “When it gets cooler, they usually have a dance up here.” He nodded toward the schoolhouse on the knoll. “I’d be pleased if you’d save me one.”

  “Why, Samuel Ketchem, I would be honored to dance with you.”

  Really? “Thanks and, Etta Faye, my friends call me Sam.”

  She looked at him with her sharp blue eyes and pursed her lips before she spoke. “Samuel, someday you will be a man of great respect in this county. And I find Sam too ordinary for the lofty place you will hold with your peers.”

  He couldn’t hold back his amusement and snickered out his nose. “Well, I sure hope that lofty part ain’t when they hang me.”

  She gathered the reins to her mare in her white-gloved hands. “You will see, Samuel. You will see. Oh, there are some repairs that need to be completed on the schoolhouse.”

  “If you have a list made up, I’d get some of the folks up here to pitch in and get them done.”

  “I don’t have it with me, but if you would be so kind as to drop by my father’s house next time you are in town, I shall have one ready.”

  “Fine. I’ll drop by.”

  “Very good. You look to be healing from the altercation you had.”

  He rubbed the sore side of his face. “I’ll live.”

  She reined up the mare, who acted anxious to go on. “I am sure you will. In fact, I think you should consider getting into politics.”

  “For now I have enough to do.”

  Her head rose, with that superior look on her handsome face, and she smiled like she knew a lot more than he did. “We shall see. Oh, and thank you so much for your help on the schoolhouse repairs. Get up, Chelsea.”

  He removed his hat and beat it on his leg as he watched her drive away. Even thinking about her might be a waste of his time. With dandies like the town law and others courting her, what chance did a two-bit rancher have with her? Besides she’d had enough marriage proposals from lovesick men to fill a big steamer trunk, and she’d turned them all down. Etta Faye might make an old maid schoolteacher, but—he stuck the hat back on his head and booted Rob across the ford—she sure would never make a rancher’s wife.

  Chapter 3

  Sam recognized the roan horse hitched at his rack when he came in sight of the house. His youngest brother, Earl, was waiting for him. Seated on the front porch in his bullhide chaps, hat cocked on the back of his head exposing his curly hair, he whittled on some cedar with a jackknife.

  “Hey, what brings my youngest brother over here?” Sam dismounted and undid the girth to remove the saddle.

  “Well, for one thing”—Earl strained to cut a large notch in the red stick—“how are you doing?”

  “Fine.” Sam lifted the saddle and pads off the gelding and carried them to the porch to stow on the horn end.

  “You look like hell.” A frown crossed his tanned face, and he gave a head shake of disapproval before he turned his attention back to the wood.

  “I’m alive.”

  “That cussed Harry do that to you?”

  “Claimed I cut his favorite pinto-colored bull.”

  “What’s wrong with that bunch?”

  “You had trouble with them?”

  “Byron, the youngest, came by the other day and told my wife to tell me we’d better watch whose beef we were eating.”

  “Told Lupe that?”

  “If I’d found him, I would’ve tied into him.”

  “Don’t let them get you into a fight. My first mistake yesterday. That won’t happen again. How did us Ketchems get so crossways with that Wagner bunch anyway?” Sam shook his head trying to think of a reason. “I don’t recall us even having words with them before.”

  “Won’t be words I have with them.”

  “Well, ease down a notch, little brother. There’s a time for everything, and I really want to know their reasons for all this.”

  “Ignorance. They’re all stupid.”

  “I can’t disagree with that. But what provoked them?”

  Earl shook his head with no answer, folded the jackknife blade and dropped it in his vest pocket. “I came over to see if you needed anything done, and hell, you’re up riding around.”

  “The colonel sent word he wanted to talk to me.”

  “What about?”

  Sam rubbed his upper lip with his index finger and looked off at the live oak on the far hillside. “About taking the herd north next spring.”

  “He ain’t going?”

  “Earl, he may not live that long.”

  “The colonel?”

  “His heart’s gone, the doc said.”

  “What’
re you going to do?”

  “Told him I had to think on it.”

  “I savvy that. But you know this one’s liable to be a smooth one.”

  “No, Earl. No cattle drive is ever smooth. This one won’t be either. That western trail out to Colorado and up that line could be as tough as any.”

  “It was just bad luck that all those boys got killed.”

  “Well, I don’t have any lucky horseshoe today. Let’s make some coffee.”

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  “You’ll never guess who I met on the road.”

  “Who?”

  “Etta Faye Ralston.”

  “You always were soft on her. What’s Miss Social Lady doing out here?”

  Sam poured water in the enamel pot and then he opened the range burner to stoke the fire back to life. “She’s going to teach school out here.”

  “Fancy that.”

  “You sound sarcastic about her deal.”

  “Has she set her bonnet to marry you or what?”

  “Earl, that girl has no intention of marrying anyone.”

  “I ain’t so all-fired damn sure.”

  “You don’t know her like I do.” Sam began to turn the crank on the coffee grinder after filling it with some roasted beans. “She don’t want a husband or she’d have one by now.”

  Slouched down in a high-backed kitchen chair, Earl grinned big. “The right one just ain’t asked her.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.”

  “I won’t, big brother. But I’d sure dance at your wedding.” Then he threw his head back and laughed out loud. “I can’t wait to tell Tom.”

  “Well, for my part, you can save the whole thing.”

  “Oh, you’re touchy now?”

  Sam didn’t answer him. He went after the lemon cookies Thelma had sent home with him. He’d almost forgotten them. No matter what Earl said, Etta Faye Ralston was not serious about any man in her life, nor did she intend to be so. She enjoyed her role as a spinster and having all the dandies with plastered-down hair courting her prim and proper. Maybe the cookies would take the edge off Earl’s tongue. Sam could count the times that boy’s smart mouth caught a backhand from their pa or a hair jerking from their mother. Didn’t do much to dull it, Sam decided, going back inside.

  “Before you turn down that drive, you better think about all us small cattlemen. Them buyers will come pick us off. We won’t get nothing for our work.” Earl picked up a cookie, looked at it and nodded in approval. “Thelma’s, ain’t they?”

  Sam nodded. “I’ll think on it.”

  “Think damn hard. I’ve got a baby coming. He’ll need some diapers, and I don’t know what all that woman says we’ve got to have.”

  “Congratulations. Tell Lupe I’ll be glad to be an uncle again.”

  “Yeah, and you think about the drive.” Earl stood. “I’ve got to run along.”

  “Earl, watch your backside. Them Wagners got a problem the way I figure.”

  “I will. You, too. And get healed up. You look bad.” Earl waved from the door and left Sam with a mouthful of sweet cookie to wash down with his coffee. He’d think about it—and then wonder what he should do.

  Chapter 4

  Nothing healed fast enough, least of all Sam’s cuts and bruises. Raul and his boys, Hector and Manford, arrived to roof the horse barn in a wagon pulled by two scruffy mules. Sam had hired an old Mexican named Chico to split the shingles out of cedar blocks and make stacks of them. Raul inspected them and agreed the old man was the best. Sam gave him his nails and then asked Raul if he’d go look at the schoolhouse roof and see what it needed.

  “When I get the first run started for them, the boys can do the shingles. Then I will go look at the schoolhouse with you.”

  “Sure, I’ll saddle you a horse.” Since they had come in a wagon pulled by a team of mules, he figured riding would be quicker.

  “In a little bit,” the thin-faced man said and went to where the boys had stuck the ladder on the west side of the new structure, with its lathing all in place for them. Sam went after the mare Dutch, the gentlest one in his herd, and left them to put up a string on the edge.

  Sam saddled Dutch. With her ready, he tied her at the rack beside Rob. When the barn was done, the saddle horses would have an open dry shed on one side to get into during bad weather. With stalls and a tack room, it would be a nice addition, and it would be paid for as well when he completed it. The big loft above was for hay storage.

  In an hour, they rode over to the schoolhouse. The roofer examined all he could on the rickety ladder they found out back. “I think we can replace a few shingles and stop most of the leaks.”

  “Good. They never mentioned having any money. I’ll pay you to do this when you get the barn roofed.”

  “Sí.”

  Sam took the time to look at the rest of the structure and the grounds. Etta Faye would need the stove-pipe replaced. It was pretty rusty. Two windowpanes needed to be reglazed and someone had broken the lamp globes. The bell needed a new rope. Raul’s boys could reattach it in the belfry when they did the roof. The one outhouse needed some carpenter work and the other its door rehung—maybe new pits dug, too, since the old ones were smelly and close to full, but he didn’t tarry long with the flies to examine them too close.

  “Can you ride back all right? I need to check on somethings in town,” Sam said to the craftsman.

  “I’ll be fine. Good horse, plenty gentle.”

  “See you tonight?”

  “We camp at your house while we work there?”

  “Good idea. You and the boys be careful working up there.”

  “Sí, senor. See you later.”

  The ride to Frio Springs went uneventfully, and he rode up in front of the white picket fence that surrounded Judge Ralston’s spacious, two-story house. Rob hitched at the rail, he went up the walk and was barked at by a small black dog.

  “McGregor! Come here,” Etta Faye commanded. With a short, jerky stride, the dog made a wide circle around him and ran for the porch and his mistress. With the dog safely in her arms, she smiled at Sam.

  “You look much better today.”

  He quickly agreed. “I dropped by for the list you promised me.”

  “Oh, yes. Have you looked at the schoolhouse?”

  “Yes. My roofer thinks he can fix the small leaks. I think a workday and dance would do the rest.”

  “When would you do that?”

  “Two weeks from this Saturday should give me a chance to gather forces and have the women get ready to feed them.”

  “I shall be prepared to join you up there.”

  “Good. It should be a show of community spirit. And everyone likes to dance.”

  “I shall be in your debt, Samuel.”

  “You’ll work it off teaching those kids their ABCs.”

  “It’ll be a challenge, won’t it?”

  “I hope you know how much.”

  “I do.”

  Rather than get in an argument, he took the list and then smiled at her. He skimmed over it and nodded. “We should get lots of this done.”

  “Oh, Samuel, how will I ever repay you?”

  “We’ll work that out. See you at the workday.”

  She made a disappointed face. “You obviously don’t have time for tea today?”

  “No, ma’am, not today,” he said and hurried for his horse, waving goodbye.

  He left word at Sutter’s General Store about the workday at the school house. Elmer Sutter promised to make a note about the planned project and dance and post it.

  Then, with his order of coffee beans, sugar, flour and lard, Sam headed back to the ranch. He’d considered getting a cold beer at the Tiger Hole, but instead turned Rob west. Too many things to get done.

  Near sundown, he dropped off the ridge in the bloody light. The rolling hill country was bleeding away the day. He would be grateful for sundown. In a short while, the day’s heat would dissipate some; he felt tired a
fter all his running around. The healing process must be sapping his usual energy, he decided.

  Raul was cooking over a campfire when Sam rode in.

  “You could have used my stove,” Sam said reining up Rob.

  “Oh, we cook outside all the time.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Come and join us. We will have beans and some chili I brought from home. We have plenty.”

  “I may do that. Beats anything I’d cook.”

  The boys, seated on the bench they had set up, smiled at him.

  “I’ll put Rob up and then wash.”

  “It will be ready by then,” Raul promised.

  Sam turned at the sound of a rider coming in at a hard run. Someone was sure pounding ground to get there. He squinted against the fading light. Who was it?

  “Sam, you better come quick,” Jason Burns said, sliding his hard-breathing horse to a halt. “Some body’s shot Earl!”

  “When?” Sam asked, catching Burns’ horse by the bridle.

  “An hour or so I guess.”

  “How is he?”

  “Not good.” The grave look on the man’s face in the twilight told him enough.

  “Tom know about it?”

  “Yeah, he sent me after you.”

  “Who did it?”

  “Don’t know. He was shot in the back.”

  “Damn. I’ll get a horse saddled and be ready in a minute.” Sam took off in lope. Someone had shot his brother in the back. Why? Damn, if those Wagners were behind this, he’d get every one of them. He caught Sorely, led him out and tossed on the saddle. When the horse was cinched and ready to go, Sam noticed Raul standing there.

  “Here are some beans in a tortilla. You will only be weak without some food.”

  “Gracias,” he said and took the wrap from him. “Go ahead, Jason. I’m coming.” He reined up his horse and spoke again to Raul. “You and your boys keep an eye out. I don’t expect any trouble here, but there might be some.”

  “We will. God be with you,” Raul said.

  Sam nodded. Then he hurried to catch Jason in the gray twilight. The burrito was still hot when he finally took a bite. He hoped it would fill some of the emptiness in his belly. Trotting his horse, he ate between bumps. His thoughts were on his youngest brother’s condition and how, only hours earlier, they had visited and argued over him and Etta Faye—but Sam had sworn off ever again getting that involved with her again. She was not the marrying kind—period. Besides she was always acting like his mother—You’d be good in politics. He wouldn’t be good at anything but raising cattle, and he was only half good at that.