Chapter Ten
As Joe neared the Truckee River, thinning pines surrendered to the relentless midday sun. He tugged on the brim of his hat, and he smiled when Cochise and Jasper picked up their pace. Leading his horses to water wouldn't be a problem; with the sun beating down from the azure sky, they were anxious to drink.
The ground, no longer blanketed in auburn pine needles, grew sandy and dotted with sage, and the ever changing landscape reminded Joe of the vastness of the Ponderosa.
The next marker, an etched wooden cross, lay just ahead. Anticipation softened the thoughts that had churned all morning in Joe's mind—thoughts of a future without the brother he'd hardly begun to know, thoughts of a young woman roaming the Ponderosa through the harsh winter months— and soon, the hastened rhythm of the horses' gaits hushed Joe's thoughts all together.
Moments later, just a few yards ahead, the marker, one of the smallest, stood unscathed and barely hidden. Joe dismounted and led the horses to the riverbank. As they drank their fill, he logged the section, adding in the margin a suggestion to consider a new purchase; the expansion of their cattle herds meant concerns for grazing land and access to more water.
Satisfied with his entry, Joe clapped shut the ledger and shoved it into his pocket, smiling in anticipation of his father's approval. Stretching his arms up high, he filled his lungs and tilted his head from side to side, working the kinks from his neck. He arched his back and leaned left, then right. With a sigh, he gathered the horses' reins, swung into the saddle, and started east toward a spot Hoss often described as 'havin' the biggest, tastiest trout to set fins in water'. Joe chuckled aloud, remembering Adam's reaction to their brother's proclamation. "We'll see, bigger brother. We'll just see."
Mile after mile, the Truckee at his side, Joe's mood continued to lighten. The prospect of adding to their holdings excited him. In the past, his brothers had been the ones to field ideas and suggestions to their father—Joe had been too young to have a learned opinion. But in those instances, while tucked down quietly at the top of the staircase, Joe listened, gave thought, and learned. And now, for once, Joe felt positive about his habit of eavesdropping.
After a brief stop for lunch, Joe tested the buckles of Jasper's packs and tightened the cinch of Cochise's saddle. He spoke softly to the horses, his voice soothing the animals as well as himself, and he realized again how much he'd enjoyed his unplanned encounter with Coonskin Tully.
I can't wait to see Pa's face when I tell him who I ran into. Pa worries about Coonskin living all alone in the mountains.
Joe's thoughts drifted to Emmaline, her bright smile, her warm, green eyes, and the way she always seemed to know what Coonskin was about to say.
I guess that's part of why he prefers the life of a recluse. After Emmaline died, he couldn't seem to adjust, but Pa's right. At his age, Coonskin'd be better off closer to Virginia City.
Joe wondered if he should have abandoned the grand swing, invited the old trapper to pay his father a visit, and escorted him to the ranch himself. He shook his head. He'll come down when he's ready. In the meantime, Pa's gonna be relieved when I tell him I saw-
"Joe? Joe Cartwright? Is that you?"
As he turned Cochise, Joe curled his fingers around the grip of his gun. His hand relaxed and his shoulders eased when a familiar face greeted him from the edge of the riverbank.
"Tobias, you oughtta know better than to sneak up on a body like that!"
"Sneak up? I'll have you know I was here first," Tobias said as he made his way up the incline from the Truckee River. "Why, I've been out here fishing since dawn. It was you that gave me a scare, riding up on me that way."
Joe slid from his saddle and greeted the Virginia City merchant with a firm handshake. "Didn't expect to see anyone from town."
"Well, I didn't think I'd run into a Cartwright down this way, not bein' round-up season and all." Tobias leaned his pole against a rock. "It's not often I take a couple of days off, you know."
Joe looked across the river and up ahead. "You've got a camp around here?"
Tobias pointed further south. "Down a ways. Not much of a camp, though. Just a fire, coffee, beans, and few blankets."
Joe's eyes twinkled. "Tobias Taft, roughing it along the Truckee. Never thought I'd see the day!"
The two men chuckled, and before long, they sat in the small clearing that Tobias fancied a camp. While Joe busied himself cleaning two large trout, Tobias stirred flour, soda, and water together in a bowl.
"The skillet's nice and hot, Joe. You about done with the fish?"
"Yes, sir." Joe dropped the trout into the pan and smiled at the hissing that followed. "Biscuits ready to go on?"
Tobias nodded and hung the Dutch oven over the fire. "Shouldn't take too long," he said, leaning back against a tree.
Joe did the same, resting in the hollow of his saddle. "You know, Tobias, I started out on this swing hoping to be all by myself, no one to listen to, no one to answer to."
"Best thing to do when life's weighin' heavy. That's why I'm out here, too."
Joe crossed his ankles and drew his hands behind his head. "You've got troubles?"
"Sure do. The store's in need of a new roof, I had to fire that fool kid, Wilbur Dunham, and two of my special orders for Clementine Hawkins came in all wrong. You ever have to deal with that . . . that female when she's all riled up?"
Joe giggled.
"Sure, laugh! You know, Joe, a mercantile owner has to deal with all sorts of people every blessed day. Why, my customers range from people like you and your pa to the likes of Clementine Hawkins and Old Eddie."
Joe huffed and nodded.
"Eddie may be a quiet old drunk, but when he's halfway sober, he gets pretty dang mouthy. And then, there's Obie. Oh, he spends a fair amount in my store, but he insists on bringing that darned dog of his inside, and I'm not sure which one smells worse!"
Joe started to respond, but instead, he chortled.
"And Vernie Smith. You met him yet? He hasn't been in town long, but he bought the old Larson place. Practically had to build the house and barn all over again."
Joe sat up, grabbed a fork, and flipped the searing fish.
"Anyway, Mr. Smith loves to talk. And I mean loves to talk. Why, I've seen customers walk right out of my place 'cause I can't break way from him. Can't you believe that? I'm losing customers 'cause he's got to tell me about everything from his breakfast to his lumbago!"
Joe shook his head. "Pffft. Image, someone going on and on and-"
"It never ends, Joe. In fact, just last month, a stranger came into the store while I was waiting on Mr. Smith. Well, Smith was making small talk and the stranger had a list in his hand, and you know what that means."
"'Fraid I don't." Joe settled back against the saddle.
"A list means a big sale, Joe. And it was all I could do to get away from Smith so I could wait on the stranger." Tobias shook his head. "Never did get the stranger's name. Quiet sort. Never forget him, though. Not too many young men wearing a wolverine fur in Virginia City."
Joe sat up straight. "Did you say wolverine?"