Chapter 25—NOT SO TRIVIAL PURSUITS

Following strategies worked out the prior evening, spiriting four bodies out of town unnoticed proved easier than expected. Kitted out in a slouch hat and overalls, Ben walked over to the livery with Avery at dawn and brought the wagon around to the alley behind the house. Then, with a demurely shawled and sunbonneted Max sitting next to him, he drove right down Main Street in full view of shopkeepers setting up for the day and layabouts waiting for the saloons to open—in the crepuscular light just another undistinguished young farm couple going about their business in a generic spring wagon loaded with odds and ends of lumber, an assortment of boxes and feed bags, and two big croker sacks of potatoes.

Slim had eased out of town fifteen minutes earlier and awaited them a mile or so down the road. The contents of the croker sacks had been cautioned to keep absolutely still—not even a sneeze—until the all clear was given personally by Slim. He'd be keeping a lookout while accompanying the wagon the rest of the way back to the ranch. Tabbie and Eddie would have ample time to pull the burlap bags back over their heads if need be.

On Saturday mornings, Eustace and Eulalie Whatleigh went next door to the Jacksons' so that Young Doc's diminutive wife Pearl could sleep in and he could enjoy breakfast with his friends at Abigail's Best Café. On Sunday mornings, Anthony and Cleopatra Jackson went to the Whatleighs' so that Avery and Orrie could sleep in and Martha could attend early Mass at Our Lady of the Prairie. Doctor Adam Niederhauser often took breakfast at the café as he customarily arose much earlier than his wife.

The sheriff and the veterinarian were already installed at their usual table by the bay window when Young Doc joined them.

"Any new developments?"

"Yes… an' none of 'em good, Fred," Mort replied sourly. "Emmett followed that Pinkerton ass and his two associates to the rail depot. Three more of 'em got off the eight-fifteen. They've all gone over to the Mountain View Hotel to check in and get breakfast."

"And…?"

"Denny Baker dropped by while I was opening up this morning… nosing around to see if I knew why that Rademacher feller wanted to reserve a six-seater surrey and four saddle mounts at his livery stable."

"Why would he need…?" Adam started to ask, then, "Oh… he expects to get his hands on those kids?"

"Yeah... 'oh'—six agents plus four captures."

"Surely they don't intend to set siege to Slim's place?" Young Doc was incredulous.

"Where else would they be going?" Mort grunted.

"Can't you stop 'em?"

"Not from riding out there. All I can do is warn 'em to keep to the stage right-of-way."

"Which is fifty feet from the front door, Mort, you know that."

"What do you want me to do about it, Fred?" the sheriff grumbled. "The territorial government holds a thirty-foot-wide easement on the Cheyenne-to-Laramie corridor that bisects the Bartlett, Sherman and Livingston ranches. It's a public thoroughfare. Anyone can travel back and forth on it all day long as long as he doesn't leave the actual road—in which case he'd be trespassing on private property."

"But what about the loop that comes off the main road and runs right by the house?" Adam queried. "I would've thought that's a private drive."

"As long as Slim holds the relay station franchise, that loop is also public access—it's in his contract with Overland."

"So what you're saying is that they can post agents right outside his front door and snatch anyone who steps out onto the road."

"That's about the size of it. Can't believe I was that stupid… sending those kids back out there."

"So they're on their way back now?" the veterinarian questioned.

"Yep. Left about two hours ago. Why?"

"Did Baker say what time the men were coming to get the horses?"

"Sometime around noon's what he told me."

"That gives us plenty of time," Adam grinned.

"Time for… what?"

"Why… to beat 'em there, of course."

Breakfast at the ranch wasn't going all that smoothly, either.

"It's my fault," Jess sighed, reaching for another biscuit. "For not doin' like Slim said…"

"No. It's mine for overriding you," Doctor McPheeters retorted glumly, eyeing the last sausage.

"If anyone's to blame, it's me," Daisy uttered mournfully, poking at her bowl of oatmeal. "I take full responsibility for influencing your decisions."

Facing her across the table and secure in his blamelessness, Mike expressed his opinion while scooping another helping of scrambled eggs onto his plate. "Betcha Jess'll track 'im down in five minutes, right after breakfast. Me an' Andy'll help…"

"Jess is in no shape to do any tracking, young man," Daisy scolded.

"I agree," the doctor said, pointing a fork at Jess. "No outside adventures for you today. Someone else'll have to go after 'im. I mean, how hard can it be find to find one gimpy Indian in a striped nightshirt?"

The side door opened to admit Andy. All heads swiveled in his direction.

"Well? Any sign?" Jess queried, poised to bite into a buttered biscuit.

Andy gulped. "He… uh… he got a horse and a saddle…"

"Sh… er… shoot. We'll still find 'im. Just gonna take longer, is all. Andy, would you mind saddlin' up Traveller for me?"

A babble of objections broke out at once.

"Jess Harper, you are not leaving this house!"

"You're not fit to ride, Jess…"

" 'Fraid I can't do that, Jess… there's… um… a problem."

"I'll do it, I'll do it!" Mike piped up.

Jess held up a paw for silence, eyebrows scrunched together in suspicion, narrowed eyes drilling Andy's worried face.

"Whaddya mean… ya can't… what problem?"

"It was your horse he took," Andy stuttered, "… and your saddle."

Dead silence prevailed for all of a minute while invisible thunderheads gathered and broke at the head of the table. Slowly and deliberately, Jess put down his utensils and got to his feet.

"I'll find 'im… an' then I'm gonna kill 'im." The words were softly spoken but dark with vengeful promise.

Full daylight now, although the sun hadn't yet breached the crest of the eastern hills… As outrider, Slim was maintaining the pace at a steady jog. When he'd finally deemed it safe for the kids to discard their disguises and called a halt, Ben had suggested that perhaps they could put travel time to good conversational use by swapping around positions. Thus, he and Slim were now sharing the driver's seat, with Max's head and shoulders squeezed forward inbetween their waists and the rest of her precariously perched on stacked boxes and bags. Tabbie and Eddie were taking turns on a very confused Alamo.

"Will Missus Cooper be angry, do you think?" Max asked. "I mean about you bringing the four of us back to stay."

"Daisy never gets angry. Well… hardly ever. Perturbed, maybe. Anxious. But she'll find a way to fit you all in. She always does."

"How'd a lady like her come to be living out here?"

"It all began with an orphan and a Japanese sideshow troupe…" By the time Slim's recital had caught up to the present, the tragedy of Mike's origin was offset by the description of the housekeeper selection process.

Ben put forth the next question. "What about Jess? How'd he end up here?"

That, Slim admitted, was a much more complex story. "Just his first day in our lives could fill up a dime novel. And if it hadn't been for Andy, he wouldn't be here today."

"I heard some stuff from Missus Jackson… and I'm wondering if maybe she wasn't exaggerating a little?" Ben let that one dangle.

Slim sighed. "Martha Jackson loves that boy to death… but whatever she had to say about Jess was most likely true. Before I go any further, though, understand this—Jess Harper is the most exasperating character I've ever known… and the best friend I've ever had or ever will have. He's as much a brother to me and Andy as Andy and I are to each other."

Jess' story as presented by his best friend began with the confrontation between ranch owner and trespasser. Although Jess' adoptive family now knew a good deal about his previous existence, Slim accepted that there were many more unexplored layers to the man's past that might never be revealed. And there were between them certain private confidences that would never be shared. As it was, Slim had enough amusing anecdotes to keep his audience enthralled as they continued their journey.

Sheriff Corey had argued to no avail with his breakfast companions. "There's no we in this endeavor, gentlemen. I'm the sheriff here and this is my bailiwick. You tend to your own knitting and I'll tend to mine."

"The devil you say!" Doctor Whatleigh snorted. "I'm riding out there with you… got patients to see."

"Count me in, too," Doctor Niederhauser agreed adamantly. "I was planning on going out there anyway… got two horses to pick up."

Mort huffed and puffed. "I can't allow you to go in harm's way. For one thing, your wives would hunt me down like a dog if anything happened to either one of you…"

"Nothing's going to happen… and the more witnesses, the better," Young Doc declaimed. "The Pinkertons won't risk an unfavorable public incident. They can't squat in the road forever. Eventually they'll have to back down. Come along, Adam… we'll get there faster on horseback. You can take one of mine… got two stabled over at Jackson's."

Mort rolled his eyes, acceding defeat. "Get Orrie to saddle mine while you're at it. I'll be there in a few minutes. Got to run by the jail first and let Emmett know."

Out on the boardwalk, the two doctors strode purposefully toward the livery stable while the sheriff peeled off in the other direction, muttering imprecations under his breath. By the time he reached the office he'd worked himself into a towering snit, only to find his deputy lounging back in the swivel chair, reading the newspaper.

"Get your damned ass outta my chair!" Mort shouted. "Why aren't you out making the rounds?"

Emmett carefully refolded the paper and slowly removed his boots from the top of the desk. "Already did."

"Then do 'em again!"

"Couldn't leave 'til you got back. Got two fish in the drunk tank."

"Dammitall! The saloons've only been opened an hour… who could possibly be that drunk this early in the day?"

"The usual suspects… Parson Hawks and Judge Cade."

A shabby apparition with a wildly rolling eye lurched out of the cell block, emitting a wave of alcoholic fumes. "You called, sherff?"

"Get back in your cell and stay there 'til you sober up, Parson," Mort yelled.

"No breakfuss?" the drunk sloppily inquired, helping himself to a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove.

The sheriff clenched his fists heavenward. "I do not need this… not today!" Giving his laconic underling the hairy eyeball, Mort instructed Emmett to lock the cell door behind the two inebriates. Normally they didn't bother—the parson considered jail his second home while the judge would likely remain legless well into the afternoon. Then they'd meekly let themselves out when it was time for the evening binge. When Emmett asked why, Mort snapped at him.

"I'm going out to Sherman's place to try and stop war breaking out between them and those damned Pinkertons. I need you free to uphold the peace here."

Mort went on to explain about the two doctors horning in on the mission. Emmett lifted an eyebrow with a crooked grin.

"Looks like I'm gonna miss out on a good showdown, 'specially with a priest and a nun added to the posse."

"Say what?"

"Father Flynn came by while you were at Abigail's… him and that head nun from out at the convent… they're goin' out there, too." Emmett thought the bossman was going to have a heart attack on the spot—his face was beet red, his mouth gaping open and closed like a goldfish.

"What in heaven's name business they got with Slim?" Mort croaked when he finally got his wind back.

Emmett proceeded to explain that the priest had been at the undertaker's, making arrangements for a late parishioner, when the middle Bartlett boy had delivered the two bodies—both decedents adorned with Roman devotional medals. Even though Jerry'd had strict instructions about keeping his mouth shut, he couldn't resist the commanding presence of a man of the cloth and had blabbed everything about the two raids, the two injured men at Sherman's ranch and the three girls his mother had fetched home with her. The good padre had reasoned that where there were two of the faithful in peril, there was a fair possibility of others to be saved. And because females were involved, he'd called in his associate from the Dominican convent attached to Our Lady of the Prairie.

"They just stopped by to let you know they were on their way."

Sheriff Morton Ames Corey cussed for a solid five minutes while he buckled on his gunbelt, unlocked the gun cabinet to select a rifle, and stuffed his jacket pockets with ammo. Deputy Sheriff Emmett Ryker was mightily impressed with his superior's vocal stamina and vocabulary range.

Meanwhile… on the stage road… Slim was embellishing his narrative of Jess' adventures. At one point he had to pull off to the side as the eastbound ten o'clock stage thundered by… leaving the four of them coated in dust. Ten minutes later the spring wagon splashed over the creek around the bend from the ranch house. Easing by the parked stage and pulling up by the corral fence, Slim noted that once again Luke Perry was subbing for Mose. As tall and sturdily built as Slim himself, the personable Alabamian had curly ginger hair and an ingratiating crooked smile.

With apologies to his passengers, Slim excused himself to help change out the team. As he and Luke unhooked the lead pair, the latter cocked his head at the individuals climbing down from the wagon—three of them obviously females. "New hires?"

"Not exactly," Slim grunted. "Relatives visiting from back east."

Andy and Orrie had the four replacements prepped and ready to go, so the exchange went quickly. Slim noted that his brother was looking furtive. No other word for it. Something was up but Slim didn't have time to ask.

"Got time for pie and coffee?"

"Already been. Wanted to say howdy to Jess but he ain't..."

At that moment one of the wheel horses went balky on them, diverting Slim's attention from the other's unfinished statement. With the fresh team hooked up, Luke asked Andy to let the passengers know it was time to reboard. Presently two men and two women emerged from the ranch house. With the passengers stowed away, the stage boiled away.

Walking back to the wagon, Slim raised a hand to Daisy watching from the threshold. Even at a distance he could see she was unhappy about something—but it couldn't be about the return of the kids… it'd already been agreed they were coming back. Something was very wrong.

Max was standing in the wagon bed, pulling valises from their hiding places under a pile of empty burlap sacks and handing them down to Ben.

"You all go on inside and shake off some of that dust," Slim said, reaching up to assist Max's descent as she was encumbered by the long skirts. "I have to put up the horses."

The girls turned toward the house but Ben demurred. "I'll help. Need to stretch my legs anyway."

Adding the wagon team to the coach horses already being rubbed down in the corral, Slim couldn't help but notice Andy was avoiding looking him in the eye. Before he could pick up a currycomb, though, Orrie intercepted him.

"Sir, you're needed inside. I'll see to these."

"Thanks, Orrie…"

"How many times a day does the stage come through?" Ben asked as he and Slim walked to the house.

"Twice. Eastbound to Cheyenne at ten in the morning and westbound to Laramie at four in the afternoon, give or take. No runs on Sunday."

"Must be difficult, scheduling ranch maintenance around it."

"Not too hard… except at spring and fall roundup. I… we… have to hire temporary hands then."

"Roundup? You have cattle?" Ben looked around curiously. There wasn't a cow in sight. "How many?"

Slim told him and Ben whistled, wide-eyed. "Where are they?"

"Summer pasture right now, and open range. We bring 'em in closer to home in winter."

"I've read about the big drives up from Texas… thousands of cattle on the move. Have you ever been on one?"

"Yeah… a long time ago. It was the experience of a lifetime but I wouldn't want to do it again."

"What about wild horses… the mustangs… do you round those up also?"

"No. All our working stock are ranch-bred. Jess'd love to go chasing after horses but we've never had the time. The cattle are more important."

"I was hoping I'd get to see some real cowboys… and wild horses." Ben sounded wistful. "I think I'd like living here… almost wish I didn't have to go back. Farming is dead boring in comparison. Maybe after I've graduated college…"

At the foot of the porch steps, Slim halted, putting a hand to his nephew's shoulder.

"Be thankful you have a family and a farm to go home to, Ben. There's no romance in the way we live. It isn't like what you read in books. Mostly it's hard work and uncertainty… and more drudgery and worry than you can possibly imagine."

"Why'd Grandpa and… well, I guess she's our step-grandmother…come out here then? Why not just stay in South Carolina?"

Slim grinned. "I reckon it's because the male of the species is born with more of a sense of adventure than common sense."

"And the female of the species…?"

"Ma always said women were designed to let their hearts overrule their minds. She allowed it was intentional on the Creator's part, otherwise no sane female would ever put her welfare in a man's hands."

Stepping into the parlor, Slim was struck by the normalcy of the scene… and the absence of activity other than Daisy clearing off the table with a great deal more clatter than she normally employed. Her lips were compressed in a thin line of disapproval and her hair more untidy than usual. The fainting couch and sofa were both unoccupied and there was no sign of Jess. Premonition settled on Slim's shoulders like a wet woolen blanket. He turned to the rack where Jess' hat should have been. No hat in evidence.

Turning her back, Daisy marched back into the kitchen without so much as a 'hello'. Slim followed. Mike was standing on a stool at the sink, washing dishes. The girls must've shot straight through to the washroom.

"Okay… what gives?" Fighting to control his anxiety, Slim came up behind her and turned her around to face him. This close, he could see she'd been crying. "Where's Jess?"

His question unleashed a fresh torrent of tears. "If only you'd come home last night… this wouldn't have happened!"

Slim gently guided Daisy to a chair at the kitchen table, offering her his handkerchief. "What did happen? Is Jess okay?"

Amidst bouts of snuffling, hand-wringing, eye-mopping and nose-blowing, Slim gradually teased out the tale of escape and pursuit.

The night before, Daisy and Mike had retired to their respective bedrooms. Jess took first watch while the visiting doctor and Andy napped in the back bedroom. Andy drew the straw for second watch. When Doc Jaimie came in to relieve him at three in the morning, Andy was sound asleep in a rocker and Coyote was gone… vanished without a whisper. Doc Jaimie hadn't seen any benefit in rousing the household as there was nothing to be done in the dark anyway, so he'd gone back to bed.

Early-rising Daisy'd discovered the missing patient and had the same reaction—no sense raising an alarm until dawn. In fact, why bother at all? There wasn't anyone available to go after the wounded prisoner so she might as well get breakfast on the stove. Jess would find out soon enough and a good hot breakfast would serve to dampen any temper.

Jess'd been surprisingly laid back when apprised of the situation. He told Daisy not to fret—the Indian wouldn't get far on that bum leg—and asked Andy to have a quick look around outside. Then he'd nonchalantly plopped himself down at the table with a cup of coffee…

"Quit beating around the bush, Daisy… where is he?" Slim's patience was wearing thin, especially as he suspicioned he already knew the answer. "For that matter, where's that doctor?"

"You've got to go after them, Slim," Daisy implored.

"For God's sake, Daisy… WHERE DID THEY GO?!" Slim couldn't help raising his voice.

Andy rushed in just then, pushing past the cousins to stand behind Daisy with his hands on her shoulders.

"Don't yell at her… this is my fault, not hers. I should've stayed awake…"

"I'm not…" Slim got hold of himself. "I'm sorry, Daisy… I just need to know what happened."

At this point Andy's academy-acquired enunciation failed him. "Coyote took Traveller, Slim… an' Jess' saddle. You know how Jess is… ain't no stoppin' him when he's fightin' mad an' got the bit in his teeth. Didn't even finish his breakfast, that's how mad he was. Says he's gonna kill 'im."

"Didn't that doctor try to stop him?"

"He tried talkin' him outta goin' but since he couldn't, he figured he'd better ride along."

"How long ago did they leave?"

"About two hours… we goin' after 'em?"

Slim shook his head, his face grim. "Bigger problems coming our way, Andy. We can't leave the ranch unprotected."

Ben's Journal, Saturday, July 25: Well… here we are again at the old ranch house and I'm confused. First we couldn't stay here because there wasn't any room… and now we're back and there still isn't any room. The sheriff said we had to go back to town because police were looking for us… and then we had to sneak out of town because they are. Are Pinkertons real coppers or not? And Slim said something about our maybe being kidnapped for ransom? Who'd be dumb enough to do that? Our folks aren't rich.

Jess and some doctor are out hunting down one of the two horse thieves who got caught the other night. He (the Indian who got shot in the leg) escaped right out from under their noses, wearing nothing but a nightshirt. (I can't get that image out of my head). I guess Missus Jackson wasn't kidding when she said Jess was a dangerous man. Orrie calls him a loose cannon. He's planning to kill that Indian when they catch him again because he stole Jess' favorite horse. The girls and I couldn't help but hear everything about what happened last night because we were standing right there in the parlor.

Missus Cooper wants Slim to go after them… I guess because Jess was shot and isn't supposed to be riding? Slim says he and Andy can't leave the ranch because there are bad people coming after us.

Slim and Andy are doing something out behind the barn. Missus Cooper and Max are changing bandages on Rusty, the other wounded horse thief, who's been moved to Slim and Jess' bedroom. Tabbie and Eddie are in the kitchen fixing us something for lunch. Tabbie's a pretty good cook. Eddie not so much.

Slim handed me a loaded shotgun and told me to sit out here on the front porch and keep a watch out for suspicious strangers. As Pa used to say, I don't know whether to shit or go blind. How am I supposed to distinguish a suspicious stranger from a regular one? All these folks look scary to me. Does he mean for me to scare them off by shooting over their heads… or am I supposed to actually shoot them?

Wonder how those three girl horse thieves are doing, down the road at the neighbor's place? My arm and shoulder are itching like crazy. Missus Cooper and Missus Jackson both warned me not to pick the scabs off. Eddie picked the scab off her ear and it bled a lot.

Note: Andy said for us to please not call him 'uncle' because he's actually younger than us but a little older than Eddie and it sounds stupid. Slim said for us to please not him call him uncle, either, because it makes him feel old.

Will get back to this later. Mike's come out and it looks like he wants to talk. I don't mind. I like kids and they know a lot more than grownups think they do. Good opportunity to do a little information mining.