INCIDENT AT MARIETTA SPRINGS
"Driving a herd ain't the easiest way to make a living. The hours are long, it's rough and its tough but in days of sunshine and green grass, with water and time to spare, it's the best job in the world. Course days like that don't come around too often, and maybe that's just as well, 'cause every silver lining has a cloud: Gil Favor, Trail Boss."
Night: a dozen men are hunkered around a camp fire.
"One helping of Mushy's stew and I'm missing Wishbone's cooking already," said a tetchy Joe Scarlet.
Rowdy Yates seemed to be of the same mind. Discarding his half eaten supper, he rose to his feet and wandered from the flickering campfire to gaze into the darkness.
Hey Soos, unwilling to criticize Mushy outright, put on a brave face. "It's not so bad Senor, if you chew the lumps and spit the gristle."
Scarlet, unconvinced, set his bowl aside. "Well I wouldn't give this slop to a dog." As others murmured in agreement, he called to the ramrod. "Hey Rowdy, where do you suppose Jim and Wishbone got to?"
"Your guess is as good as mine." Rowdy shrugged. "The boss sent Pete out to look for them. According to him they…"
"…should have been back by nightfall," said Gil Favor. Stepping out of the shadows, he strode into the gathering, smoking a cigarette.
"Any word from Pete yet, Boss?" Rowdy asked.
"He just got back." Grim faced, the boss finished his cigarette and tossed it on the ground. "This side of Echo Pass there's no sign of them. I figure they're still in Marietta Springs. Something must have delayed them."
"Like what?"
"How should I know?"
"Well, ain't we gonna do something about it? They might need help."
"Maybe they do, maybe they don't," replied the trail boss. "Either way, there's nothing we can do about it tonight."
"But Senor Favor," Hey Soos cut in. "Something bad could have happened. What if they're stuck out in the hills somewhere?"
"Then we'll find them in the morning. Till then a little hardship won't hurt them. Quince is big enough to look after himself and so is Wishbone. He's a mountain man, remember? Now, if you're all through clucking like mother hens I'd appreciate you getting back to work. Rowdy; make sure the men on watch get something to eat before Mushy packs up for the night. Hey Soos; tell Pete supper's ready, and take care of his horse."
A practical man, Mister Favor believed in dealing with one problem at a time. A month short of the railhead in Sedalia, his decision to let the herd rest up for a day or two was born of common sense and justified by a need to stock up on supplies. Everything had been fine when Wishbone and Quince set off for Marietta Springs that morning; Quince going at Mister Favor's insistence, in preference to Rowdy, who had a happy knack of finding trouble. That the two men he'd sent had found trouble of their own, he had no doubt. Bad luck, maybe. How bad, he could only wait and see. Then Mushy appeared at his side with a bowl of stew.
"Mister Favor, I brought you some supper."
The stew, gratefully accepted, looked surprisingly edible. Didn't smell too bed, either, the trail boss thought. Then tasted it, and grimaced. "What is this?"
"Rabbit, mostly. I made it all by myself, added some special ingredients too. Like it?"
An attempt at chewing a lump ended when Mister Favor gave up and swallowed it whole. "It's fine Mushy, just fine."
Morning
Rowdy Yates was not happy. Four hours of daylight wasted and still no word from the boss. When it all got too much for the young ramrod he went in search of him and found him at the remuda, saddling his horse.
"How much longer are you gonna wait?"
"I'm about ready to go," Mister Favor replied, with a coolness that antagonized Rowdy all the more.
"You sure don't believe in pushing yourself, do you? Quince and Wishbone could be half dead out there!"
"Maybe, and if they'd stayed in town overnight and left at first light then they might have been here by now. A long shot, sure, but I wanted to give them that chance. Anyhow, if you've said all you came to say, it's time I was getting along."
"You're not going alone? What about me?"
"I need you here."
"But you gotta let me go; Jim and Wish are close friends of mine."
"That's what Pete and Joe said. Mushy too, he's so worried about Wishbone he was all set for bringing that single shot peashooter of his."
"Well, suppose you need back up? Could be they've run into outlaws? Could be they've broken a wheel? Could be they've had an accident and need a doctor?"
"Yup, and could be someone is using them to draw us from the herd, have you thought about that?"
"But Boss… you can't leave me here with Mushy's cooking."
"Listen, if I'm not back by noon tomorrow you can ride into town with Pete, Joe, Mushy and the entire outfit. Bring the beeves if you're inclined but till then, you stay put."
Marietta Springs
Marietta Springs looked pretty much like any other town; Mister Favor was quick to surmise, as he rode down the main street; a little shabbier than some, a little smarter than others, but otherwise unremarkable. Likewise, the townsfolk could have been townsfolk anywhere. His gaze wandered up, down and side to side, yet he saw nothing of note. If his men hadn't just vanished on the trail, they had to be here somewhere.
"Mister Favor."
The trail boss spun round in the saddle, unsure of where the voice came from. Then his name was called again, and his eyes darted to the sidewalk.
Jim Quince, disheveled and groggy, stepped out to greet him.
"Hello Boss, am I glad to see you."
Alarmed at Quince's appearance, the trail boss leapt from his horse and hitched it to the nearest rail. "Jim, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, just dead beat, that's all. I figured you'd show up sooner or later. I've been stuck here like a bug on a leaf since the wagon and horses got impounded."
"Where's Wishbone?"
"He's impounded too, at the jailhouse."
"He's what? Okay, I'm listening. Let's have it."
"Well, after we loaded the supplies yesterday we were both in need of a drink; one drink, that's all, before heading back. So we went to the saloon across the street, where we had an ice cold beer and traded small talk with a bunch of cowboys at the bar. Everything was peaceable, I swear, till one of them, a young whippersnapper, started treating a saloon gal like dirt. Well, a damsel don't have to be in much distress for Wishbone to start acting like Galahad. Ain't a bad thing, I suppose, but you know what Wishbone's like when his chest's puffed out; he never knows when to shut up. Next thing you know he's in a standoff with the kid and the biggest fella you ever saw. Take my word for it Boss; he was as wide as a door. Well, Wishbone took a swing at him and all hell broke loose. I'm sorry Boss, I…"
Mister Favor sprang forward to catch Quince as he stumbled. "Take it easy Jim, are you sure you're alright?"
"Y-yeah, I think so. A little dizzy, maybe. I'm just so doggone tired. Sleep don't come easy in an alley."
"An alley? Why?"
"Beggars can't be choosers, I guess. The sheriff shook the last nickel out of me to help pay for the damage Wishbone did when the big fella threw him over the bar."
As the depth of his latest problem sank in, Mister Favor clasped a hand to his face and trailed his fingers across his jaw. "Alright, I'll go see the man."
"Want me to come too?"
"S'okay Jim, you rest up. I should be able to straighten things out." Mister Favor reached into his pocket and handed Quince a couple of dollars. "Here… get yourself a cup of coffee and a bite to eat."
"Will do, Boss. Thanks. Just one thing; someone told me the kid's name is Ned Mullen. His father owns the biggest ranch in these parts. If he's the big cheese around here then I'm guessing those cowboys were Mullen hands."
Sheriff's Office
Sheriff Dawson was standing by the window and reaching for a jug on the stove when Mister Favor entered and introduced himself.
"So you're Mister Favor?" said the lawman. "Can't say I'm surprised, I figured it was you when I saw you ride in. That purposeful look, I reckon. Care for a cup of coffee?"
"No thanks, I…"
"Suit yourself, I'm having one." The lawman, a stout, graying man of some forty years, filled his cup and took a sip. "Ah, that's better. Now, I suppose you want to hear about your man Shinbone?"
"I'm told he got into a fracas at the saloon," said the trail boss, letting the sheriff's error go. "Maybe you'll tell me what he been charged with?"
"Mister Favor, is that you?" came a voice from an adjacent corridor. "Tell that knucklehead I'm dying of thirst back here."
"Nothing, as yet, though I could make quite a list if I were minded to," said the sheriff, unperturbed. "As far as I'm concerned he's free to go as soon as the damages are paid for, and good riddance. I never heard anyone grouse so much."
"That's it, no strings?
"No strings. You'll find your wagon and horses at the livery, along with your supplies. Ask for Noah Ashby, and see he's paid what he's owed."
"So… the damages?"
"A hundred and twenty two dollars and thirty three cents," said the sheriff between slurps of coffee.
The trail boss cocked his head and whistled in surprise. "That's an awful lot of damage for one small man."
"It's an awful lot of mirror he broke, plus quite a bit of stock. What's more, he freely admits it. Wouldn't much matter if he didn't, since a dozen witnesses say he's the one that started it."
"Maybe so, but a hundred and twenty two dollars is more than a little excessive, don't you think?"
"Maybe it is, but that's the owner's claim and it's not my job to dispute it."
"Mister Favor, can you hear me? Mister Favor?"
The trail boss glanced toward the cells… then looked to the sheriff. "Okay if I talk to him?"
"Go ahead, straight down the corridor," said the sheriff. "Here, you might as well take him some coffee."
For a man dying of thirst and suffering the pain of a split lip and a swollen face, Wishbone was in good heart and delighted to see Mister Favor. So much so that as he related his version of the saloon brawl, he seemed to forget the cup of coffee he'd been given.
"And that's all there is to it?" asked Mister Favor, after due consideration.
"Cross my heart. Till that big lummox picked me up and threw me over the bar, the only thing damaged was me. Sure, I threw the first punch, but it's a shame on this town if a man can't defend a lady without ending up in jail."
"Heard enough, Trail Boss?" asked the sheriff, sidling up beside Mister Favor. "You ready to settle now?"
"Not quite. I'd like to speak to the saloon owner first."
"Fine, I'll take you to him."
Out on the street
"Tom Mullen's a fair and reasonable man, as decent a man as there is in this town," said Sheriff Dawson as they left the office. "No offense Mister, but since you're nothing but a name to me, it's as well that I come along."
"Mullen, you say? Would he be the man with the big ranch?"
"No, that's his brother John."
"Hmm, I think I'm beginning to see."
"Don't get the wrong idea, boss man. Sure, the Mullens are influential people in this town and I'm happy to give and take if it keeps things running smooth, but when it comes to the law I'm straight down the line."
The Lucky Charm Saloon
Spotting the saloon owner wasn't difficult. With few customers around, the man at the bar in the sharp suit and fancy shirt couldn't be anyone else. But even as Mister Favor weighed the man up, his gaze was drawn to the block of unspoiled wallpaper behind the bar, where only the day before, a resplendent mirror had been. Three times wider than Mister Favor had imagined, it spanned the full length of the bar.
"I-I'm sorry about your mirror," said the trail boss, once the sheriff had introduced them.
"So am I," said Mullen. "That mirror was my pride and joy; had it special made in Silver City."
"Well, like I said, I'm sorry, and so is Wishbone. He did wrong and I know he feels bad about it, but seeing him take the whole blame is a little hard to stomach. Unlike some, his intentions were honorable, yet it seems no one else is accountable in this town, for their actions or the consequences."
"Easy, Trail Boss, don't push it," the sheriff cut in.
"It's okay Sheriff, Mister Favor makes a fair point," said Mullen. "Truth is now that tempers have cooled, I'm minded to agree. It can't be right that one man should carry the can for all. Ned, my nephew, can be irresponsible at the best of times and though he was celebrating his nineteenth birthday yesterday, it'd be remiss of me to overlook his part in this. As for Big Frank, his loyalty is something to be admired but I'm afraid he's not very bright. He really should have known better. Mister Favor, if we were to apportion the blame three ways, would you deem that fair?"
"I would."
"Sheriff?"
"It's alright by me if it's alright with you Mister Mullen."
"Good, then if a round figure of forty dollars is acceptable to Mister Favor, then I think we can call the matter closed. I'll pursue the recovery of the balance through my brother. By the way, how is your man? He wasn't the prettiest of sights when they carried him out of here yesterday."
"Nothing that won't heal; a few cuts and bruises, that'll all. The rest is just natural born ugly."
Mister Favor counted out forty dollars on the bar, and readily accepted the handshake of the saloon owner. An offer of a drink on the house, though tempting, was declined. Enough time had been lost already.
"I gotta hand it to you Trail Boss, you made that look easy," said the sheriff, as they strolled back to the office.
"It takes two, I guess."
"Well, like I said, I'm all for a bit of give and take if it keeps things running smooth. Here, I'd better give you this… that's the eighteen dollars and sixty three cents I collected from Shinbone and the other fella; less a dollar for his keep, of course."
A Happy Return
"Sure is good to be back. Why, I can almost smell those cows," said Wishbone, sighting the herd as he perched beside Mister Favor on the wagon. "And I'm sure glad to see the back of Marietta Springs. Other than getting our supplies, the only pleasing thing about the whole sorry business is that you managed to knock that saloon owner down to forty dollars. That's more than reasonable if you ask me."
"Good, then you'll have no call to harangue me when you see the shortfall in your wages next month." Mister Favor kept his eyes straight ahead, well knowing Wishbone was staring at him, brow furrowed, unsure if he was serious. "Hey, looks like we've been spotted."
In the distance, a rider had broken clear of the herd and was cantering toward them; Rowdy Yates, no less.
"Howdy Boss, Howdy Wish, it's good to see you again. Say, what happened to your face?"
"Never you mind."
"Where's Jim?"
"Don't worry about him," said Wishbone, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. "He's back here, snoring his head off on a sack of flour."
Cheered at the news, Rowdy looked to Mister Favor. "Everything went alright then Boss?"
"All's well that ends well, I guess. How about you?"
"Same as, I reckon. We had a little excitement when a bunch of riders came over the hill this morning. They were fixing to take the herd, till we persuaded them otherwise." The ramrod grinned. "Funny thing is they seemed surprised to see us. I mean, it ain't like we'd be dumb enough to leave the herd unattended."
"Anybody hurt?"
"Nope, leastways none of our men"
As they rolled into camp, Mister Favor got quite a surprise when he saw a man roped and bound to a barrel. And so did Wishbone. The minute he set eyes on him he jumped from the wagon.
"That's him! That's him!" he cried, as he circled the forlorn man.
Mister Favor climbed down off the wagon and looked to Rowdy for an explanation. "Who is he?"
"One of the jaspers that came over the hill this morning, we caught him when his horse threw him. We figured we'd leave him here and let you decide what to do with him."
"That's him, Mister Favor!" Wishbone hollered again. "It's the kid from the saloon. Now that big ape ain't around to protect him, I'm gonna teach him some matters. Turn him loose! C'mon, turn the little runt loose!"
"Wishbone!" Though the bark in Mister Favor's voice silenced Wishbone, it took a withering stare to make him back off.
"You know him Boss?" asked Rowdy.
Mister Favor nodded. Though it was hard to liken the trembling kid before him to a blowhard playing the big man in the saloon, it could only be Ned Mullen.
"What you gonna do with him?"
The boss lit a cigarette and took a moment to ponder. Big man or small, Ned Mullen and his cohorts had to be stupid, but were they just a bunch of luckless chancers? Mister Favor preferred to believe it was so, for if others had tried to lure the drovers from the herd, then it put Tom Mullen and Sheriff Dawson under suspicion. After took a long, hard look at his frightened captive, he made his decision. "Did you find his horse?"
"Yeah, it's in the remuda."
"Put him on it, let him go."
"Let him go? What, just like that? Why?"
"Call it give and take. Then pass the word around that we're moving out in the morning. While you're at it you can tell everyone we're having something special for supper tonight.
"Wishbone said that?"
"Nope, but he will, 'cause I'm gonna insist."
Next Morning
High in the saddle, Mister Favor looked across the sunlit valley at three thousand steers. At various points around them, fifteen drovers were in position. On the left flank, Hey Soos led a string of spare horses. Satisfied, he swung his horse around to check the chuck wagon. "You all set Wishbone?"
"Yeah, we're ready."
"Okay Mushy, take it away." Though the trail boss noticed Wishbone's confused expression, he didn't trouble himself to explain he was making good a promise made to Mushy the day before.
Mushy could barely able to contain his excitement. "Do you really mean it Mister Favor?"
"Yup, go ahead. Make it loud and make it clear."
Prouder than he'd ever been, Mushy clambered up on the wagon seat and hollered just as loud as he could. "Head 'em up, move 'em out!"