Two years later...
December 28th, 1877.
I stood in the kitchen, rolling out a pie crust for supper. So far, the day had been uneventful. I was just about to fill the pie when I heard angry voices through the wall. It sounded like Chavez and Dirty Steve were arguing. So much for peace and quiet...
I got outside to find Chavez waving his knife at Dirty Steve, who was yelling, "You do it with your horse, greaser!"
I'd started to try and break up the fight when Dick rode up, keeping his horse squarely between them. He told Chavez to knock it off; he knew better. We all heard the clatter of approaching wagon wheels; John was back from town. I noticed a small man riding in the back of the wagon, dressed totally in black. He was fairly young and not bad look at. I pegged him as another of John's charity cases.
"Wash up and put on your supper clothes," Dick instructed. Dirty Steve and Chavez didn't move. "NOW!" Dick bellowed.
Chavez reluctantly put his knife away and walked toward the well. I followed to try calming him down. Once I was fairly sure he wouldn't stab the next person to look at him wrong, I returned the kitchen to make supper. I watched amusedly through the window as the new boy got clotheslined by the hog he'd been trying to feed.
"SON OF A BITCH!" he howled.
Charley snickered and came close to roping the boy with his lasso, which hit the fencepost as the last minute. They talked for a while, then Dick hauled Charley away, leaving the new kid all by his lonesome in the pigpen.
I didn't seem him or any of the other boys until suppertime. By now, the new boy had swapped his black shirt for a white undershirt. John raised an eyebrow, probably thinking it was inappropriate attire, but he didn't say anything.
"I hope this fella can cook," said the boy, indicating me. "I'm mighty hungry."
That burned me. "I am a woman, thank you very much," I said coldly.
The kid grinned. "Apologies. I just never seen a woman wearin' trousers before." He turned to John. "May I make the acquaintance of the young dewdrop?"
"Of course you may," said John.
"I'm William H. Bonney, ma'am," said the boy, offering his hand. "Call me Billy."
"Serena M. Riddle," I said, shaking his hand.
We seated ourselves around the table. Dick said grace as usual, then we started to eat. My eyes flicked to Billy, who was digging in like he hadn't seen food since the Lincoln administration.
"While it's nice to see a man with a healthy appetite, I'm afraid that's not proper table manners," John said lightly.
"What can you expect from Hog Boy?" piped up Charley, making a few hideous snorting noises.
Dirty Steve joined in, which caused John to sentence the pair of them to dish duty. Billy told us how he'd worked at Pete Maxwell's ranch and bragged that he'd killed a man in town for hacking on him. Dirty Steve and Charley exchanged a worried look at this; Billy just smirked.
After supper, we gathered around the fireplace for our nightly newspaper reading. Of all us, Dirty Steve was the one on whom John's attempts at education had failed most miserably. He still couldn't even pronounce the word "succeed," for heaven's sake. Once Dirty Steve had stumbled his way through a paragraph, John called on Billy to read.
"Yeah, sure," Billy said with an eyeroll. I wondered if maybe he was embarrassed because he couldn't read.
"William, we're all learning to read and write." John said lightly. "Take up the paper and start where Stephen left off, or you can go straight back to your home on the streets."
I could almost see the gears turning underneath Billy's feathery blond hair. He wasn't allowed to work cattle yet, he had the unflattering nickname of Hog Boy, and we'd already fed him dinner, so what reason did he have to stay? I suppose he decided living here was better than being hanged by a lynch mob, because he picked up the paper and started to read. It surprised me how practiced he sounded.
John smiled his I-knew-you-could-do-it smile. "Splendid reading, William." he said, patting Billy on the head.
I stood up to walk to my room, bidding good night to the boys.
"Sweet dreams, Miss 'Rena," Billy said in a clumsily suggestive voice.
Though there didn't seem to be an particular harm in him, I reminded myself to deadbolt my bedroom door that night. You can never be too careful when you're the only woman in a house full of young men.
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The next morning, L.G. Murphy, Sheriff Brady, and his posse paid a visit to the ranch. Sheriff Brady accused John of plundering Murphy's merchandise wagon.
"That's a fargin' lie!" said Dick. "John would never steal from anyone."
"Look behind you, Earl," Murphy said to John. "All I see are hired thieves...and a loose woman."
I tried to remain composed, but Murphy had really touched a nerve with that comment. My hands curled into fists.
"Do you know how much money Sheriff Brady's invested in my store?" Murphy asked. He and John were bidding for the same beef contract. "His life savings. And I'm backed by the Chief Justice, the U.S. District Attorney, the Territorial District Attorney, and the Santa Fe Ring."
"I made a long journey here from London, so I'll be damned if I'm going to be dissuaded by something as ugly as political corruption," John replied calmly. "Take your threats and sheriff and get off my property."
"This is a new country. We won't bow to Englishman no more." said Murphy, mounting his horse. "Get ready for hell."
Murphy rode off, taking the sheriff and posse with him.John watched them go, then told us to get back to work. I silently worried as I got back to my chores. This trouble between John and Murphy had been building for some time; I was concerned that John's life could be in danger. Murphy was well-known for being vicious, physically and verbally; he was also well-connected. I could only pray for John's safety.