Lady Luck Chapter Six: Corrals

The trip up to the C-Bar-M was uneventful, but no one relaxed his guard until all the horses and mules were led into the corral and the gate fastened.

"This way, boys." Buck strode toward the cabin, followed by Pedro and Reno and then Joe and Roy. Mano brought up the rear and carried a bucket of fresh water. Stale water might do for washing dishes, but coffee would be made with fresh water on his rancho.

"Here you go, fellas." Inside, Buck hurried to fetch a couple of old packing crates from a corner of the sleeping area where Mano'd stashed them. He didn't understand why crates wasn't good enough to sit on full time, but Mano'd insisted on keepin' that table and four chairs. They was only two people-didn't need four chairs. Well, mebbe they did. Leastways they all had a place to sit at now.

Everyone took a load off while Mano lit the cooking fire and put the coffee pot on to boil. Then he pulled tin cups from a shelf and set them in front of the guests. Buck fetched the sugar jar and tossed a spoon on the table. Things looked real homey, Buck thought with pride, a broad smile creasing his face.

"Compadres, how did you get in such trouble?"

"Mano, darned if I know! We left Tucson by the regular route. Apaches come up on our left and then right. I figured they'd set on us just as soon as we reached the flats. The only thing I could think to do was turn up the road towards your place, where the ground is rougher and they'd have less chance to jump us all at once."

"That was good thinking, Joe," Buck chimed in. "But if we hadn't been coming down at just the minute you was coming up, you'd a been crow bait soon enough anyway."

"Yeah. But there was no chance on the flats. They were pacing us and we had the mules. We couldn't a outrun 'em whatever we did. Only chance we had was to come this way and pray."

"Ay Dios mío, I was praying all the time!" exclaimed Pedro, crossing himself for good measure.

"Anyway, lucky for us you were around, Buck and Mano. We're real grateful," Joe added.

"De nada amigo. No hay de que!" Mano held his hand to his chest and dropped his eyes in mock humility. "Now let us all have some coffee and relax for a minute or two and try to forget this unpleasantness. The Apaches are gone, we are here, and the coffee is ready."

Mano poured everyone a cup and gestured to the sugar. Roy eyed his cup suspiciously.

"Is something wrong, Roy?" Mano asked.

"Ah, no, Mano, nothing...really, it's nothing."

"No? Clearly something is bothering you, amigo."

"Aw, I was just thinking. Last night we ate a great meal at the cantina in Tucson and then we had coffee. The first cup was okay, but then it, well, it just tasted funny, kinda bitter and all. I 'bout fell asleep at the table."

At Roy's words, Joe swallowed wrong, sputtering and coughing. He set down his cup before he spilled hot coffee and looked down and away till the fit subsided. Mano tilted his chin up and head sideways, mouth shut, watching. He rolled his tongue across the inside of his cheek and spoke.

"Joe, was there something wrong with the coffee last night?"

Joe cleared his throat. "No, Mano, I don't think so."

"Ah, I see. Nothing wrong with it. Pedro, cómo fue el cafe anoche?"

"Pues muy bueno, en mi opinión, amigo."

"Claro. Reno, was the coffee okay last night?"

"Sure was Mano. Capped offa great meal."

"Ah, Roy, did the coffee taste perhaps a little fiery as well as bitter?"

"Now that you mention it Mano, it did."

"Well, do not worry about this coffee. I have brewed it myself and it will be fine, however many cups you may wish to drink." All the while Mano eyed Joe, who refused to meet his gaze.

"Yep. This is real good, Mano," Buck said between slurps.

Joe lifted his eyes to meet Mano's. Mano gave a tight-lipped smile, shook his head no and wagged a finger at Joe, who grinned and shrugged his shoulders. No matter. Roy'd spill the beans sooner or later.

Mano knew Roy had been an easy target, but he was pleased that Joe had tried to wheedle information out of him using strong drink. If ever there was a muchacho with no stomach for alcohol, it was Roy. The trick had backfired on Joe and Mano liked that.

Buck drained the last of his cup and tilted his chair back a bit. "Boys, I think we've got ourselves a problem, and you've got yourselves a problem. I think we could help each other out, if you don't mind." He spoke in a deep, deliberate tone. The others listened.

"Well, them A-patch will be keepin' an eye out for you coming back down our road towards the Chaparral anytime soon, won't they?" Buck continued.

"Seguro que sí!" Pedro agreed.

"It'd be better if you had a few more guns to protect you to get the supplies back to the ranch, wouldn't it?"

"Buck, what are you driving at? You know it would." Joe knew when he was being played for a sucker.

"Well, if Pedro was to ride, sneaky like, after dark, he could mebbe make it back to the ranch without the A-patch knowin' it and come back tomorrow with Big John, Sam, and some o' the others."

"Sí, I could do this easily!" Pedro's narrow chest puffed out and his lanky frame stretched tall as he sat up straight.

"An' if the rest of you stayed here for the next day or so, waitin' on Big John and the boys from the ranch, you could he'p us fix up our extra corrals."

"What d'ya need with extra corrals, Buck?" Reno asked, puzzled. "I ain't seen but yours and Mano's horses out there."

"Well, compadres, that is because we have not gathered all our stock to put in the corrals...yet. We were planning to do that when we heard the sound of gunfire and rode gallantly to the rescue of our valued amigos," Mano explained.

"Stock?" Joe fairly choked with laughter and spat the word out with a mouthful of coffee. "What stock would that be? Some miserable mavericks?"

"Sí, Jose, some miserable mavericks, yes! But also some miserable mustangs." Mano's voice was filled with pride and amusement.

"Mustangs!"

"Yeah, Joe, mustangs! Must be, oh, thirty head up here on our land. And if we had our co-rrals fixed up we could pen the cattle and the horses until we could drive 'em down to Tucson to sell," Buck explained.

"Well, I don't know about that, Buck. We don't get paid for working for you."

"I know that Joe, but you and the boys been using our cabin for a line shack and you been using our co-rral, ain't ya?"

"Well, I guess so."

"In that case you'd just be returning us a little favor for the use you already had, if you see whut I mean," Buck added.

"Hmmm." Joe sounded unconvinced.

"Also, Big John would then not receive a bill from us for the cost of repairing our corral. We would be forced otherwise to deliver this bill, since you have been making use of our property all summer, no?" Mano's voice stayed even. He was clever and very persuasive. Joe could think of no argument to counter. Dang Mano could out-talk the devil himself.

"Okay. But you'd better square it with Big John and Sam when they get here. I'm not taking the blame for doing work on your ranch for nothing!"

"Course Joe, course we will," Buck's smile was broader than the Rio Grande.

Roy listened to the talk. He couldn't believe how friendly everyone was, one to the other. They talked things over. Honch had only ever told him what to do and he'd done it. He'd didn't get a say in whether he oughta do it or not. That had been fine with him, 'cause Honch was his friend and was looking out for him. But now he was learning that things could be different. It was all kinda strange.

"Roy, do you want another cup of coffee?" Mano asked.

"Sure, thanks Mano." Roy held his cup up for a refill, and as Mano poured, he asked, "Mano, do you need a hand with all those mustangs?"

"A hand? What do you mean?"

"Well, like to get 'em gentled and settled down some before you drive 'em to Tucson."

"Oh, can you help with such work, Roy?"

"I sure can. I'm purty good with horses and I'd be proud to help you with your herd."

"Roy moves pretty quiet around horses," Joe observed.

"Joe, can you spare Roy for a few days, a week at the most?"

"Yeah, Mano, I can spare him, but don't you wear him out too much. He's done a lot of work for me and I've still got a lot of work for him back at the ranch."

"Then it is settled, Roy. When the others go back to the Chaparral, you will stay here with Buck and me, and we will see what you can do with our horses."

Roy grinned. Buck grinned. Joe grinned. Pedro and Reno grinned, although they had no idea why. The biggest grin was on Mano's face. Roy...ay yi yi, who knew? We shall see what you can do, hombre.

Mano laughed, clapped a hand on Roy's shoulder and said, "Hey, bravo, muchacho." Roy looked from Buck to Joe to the boys and smiled.

The early morning sun shone bright through the dusty window straight into Roy's face. He blinked his eyes open. Oh no. It must be gettin' late. Why didn't anybody wake him up? Roy hustled out of his bedroll on the floor, thrust his feet into his boots, and clumped out the door. He paused on the porch.

Banging and sawing noises sounded from the far side of the corral. Out of the shadows of the shed that doubled as a tack room, Reno and Joe emerged, carrying four pieces of timber that looked familiar to Roy. Wait, didn't that wood come from the door that used to shut up the shed? Buck marched out, whistling, holding a small tin pot that rattled. He waved a hammer above his head.

"S'nor Montoya where is you at?" Buck's voice was sing-song, but loud. "Mano!" Buck hollered, several notches louder and sharper.

"Sí, hombre."

Roy jumped at the voice behind him. He looked down to see Mano slouched in a crude chair on the porch, hat pulled down low to cover his eyes, legs stretched in front of him and crossed at the ankles.

"Mano, get over here and help out with this work, pore fa-vor!" Buck purposely elongated the vowels on the last words, which he knew got on Mano's nerves.

"Buck, compadre…"

"Don't you compadre me, Manolito Montoya. You may have a big name and a big daddy, but you is just a working ranch hand now."

"All right, hombre, I am coming." Then, more to himself, "Para esa mentira." He muttered some other Spanish words Roy did not know. Then Mano levered himself upright, straightened his hat, pulled down his jacket where it had ridden up, and strode over to the corrals. Roy ambled alongside him as if pulled by a magnet.

"Well Roy, glad you finally got up!" Buck smiled at him. "We tried waking you, but you just didn't seem to hear us a-tall!"

"Sorry, Buck. I do sleep kinda sound, I know. What would you like me to do?"

"Well, see this fence wire here, we gotta string that from those posts until we make us about three co-rrals."

"Oh yeah, I see." Roy nodded.

"Maybe S'nor Montoya here will he'p you put up the littlest co-rral over yonder at the edge of this flat stretch."

"Sí, mi patrón," Mano spoke in the voice of a peón, removed his hat and bent his head in mock servility.

Buck just laughed and watched the two walk off. Yesterday, the boys had done a good job of moving some of those extra rails from the main corral down to each of the other three they were building. Jeff Patterson left behind a pile of wood just right for fence posts, too. Now that they'd taken some of the main planks from the tack room, there would be boards and posts enough to make some half decent corrals that the horses couldn't get out of. You just had to have one solid top rail and good posts...fence wire'd do for the rest. Horses only looked at solid stuff, so he figgered he might need to put in a little ditch outside the posts, running it alongside the wire so that there would be a dark line on the ground. Darker the better. The horses would think that was solid.

Yep, they was gonna have four corrals pretty quick. But even then there wasn't gonna be enough room for the mavericks and all the horses, too. Hmmm...what we gonna do about the cattle? Buck mused, scratching the back of his head. Mebbe, if he could work on his brother John…

Hours later, the afternoon sun blazed overhead, beating down on them. Digging post holes made for hot work. Sweat poured off the men, running down their faces, stinging their eyes. Buck decided now that they had about finished the three extra corrals, they'd better head inside to cool down for a while, get some grub, and prepare for the work later in the afternoon. There was gonna be a fair bit of riding to do, for the folks that had horses anyway.

"Okay fellas, time for a break. Let's get some chow."

The men dropped tools and headed for the cool of the cabin. Only Mano lingered a moment, arms folded, looking with satisfaction at the finished corrals. Using the large barn door hinges to make entrances and exits between each corral had been an excellent idea, his counsel of course.

Part of each hinge was attached to an upright gatepost, with the longer piece that would have been fastened across the barn door left to swing free. Through the end of the hinge, a rope was looped that could be swung over the opposite gatepost to close the gate. If needed, they could place a plank across the opening for reinforcement.

Now we can most easily divide and sort our stock, Mano thought. All we must do is drive them into the main corral and separate some from the herd into the other corrals. He was pleased that it had been his idea. The tack room now looked spartan with only one back wall, side posts, and a roof of saguaro rib. But they had needed the wood for the corrals and the door for its hinges.

Mano paused at the cabin porch, dipped his bandana in the water bucket, and wiped his face and hands before tying the sodden cloth around his neck. Ah que maravilla! That felt good, hombre.

Inside the cabin, the men had collapsed on the chairs, so Mano knew he would be required to cook and fix coffee. Ay Bendita! Buck had been right when he said they were nothing but housemaids. At least Victoria could not see him now. He poured fresh water into the coffee pot and set it to boiling. Adding kindling to the fire, he swung the pot of beans back over the flames to reheat. He sliced a few bits of leftover sourbelly into an iron skillet and edged this atop the fire. Soon the smell of perking coffee and sizzling meat permeated the room. The tired hands looked up. Mano carried a stack of plates, forks, and tin cups to the table. He poured out cups of coffee which the boys grabbed and swallowed. Bueno, as a compliment that was all he was likely to receive. It was sufficient.

"Mano this here's good coffee" Buck muttered between slurps, dumping a heaping spoon of sugar into his cup after the first swallow.

"You always make such good coffee, Mano. Thank you," Roy smiled.

"You're welcome, Roy." Mano smiled at the first real thanks he had received.

"Buck, what are you fixin' for us to do later on?" Reno asked, pushing his hat to the back of his head.

"Well, I thought those of us with horses could take a little ride and gather them few mavericks and put 'em in the main corral."

"I thought you wanted those corrals for mustangs," Joe exclaimed.

"For a fact I do. But I got a eye-dee about gittin' them cows outta here sooner rather than later."

After the sun sank a bit, the coffee revived them a little, and the beans filled 'em more, Joe, Buck, and Reno headed out for roundup. Mano begged off, making the excuse that there was still work to do both in the cabin and at the corrals to prepare to receive the cattle.

Buck looked at him sideways.

"Aw right, S'nor Montoya." Buck wasn't convinced, but at least Mano'd have Roy to keep him company.

"Mano, watcha want I should do first?" Roy asked.

"First we need to wash these dishes and then...well, amigo, the tack shed needs windproofing a little. There are some canvas tarps tucked away in there that I thought we could use to create some sides and provide a bit more shelter for our tack, such as it is."

"Great! Let's git goin'." Roy followed Mano's directions and put the leftover food away. He tied up the burlap bags of dried beans and coffee. Together they washed and dried the dishes and returned them to the shelves. They wiped down the table for good measure before heading outside.

Roy ran toward the shed. Mano sighed and followed, walking and humming a tune about chickens. One did not need to run in the heat of the afternoon, after all.

By the time Buck, Joe, and Reno reappeared driving twenty head of mavericks, Mano and Roy had finished constructing their half-solid, half-tent tack shed. Roy rushed to open the gate to the main corral and stood on the edge of it with his arms spread wide to encourage the cattle to head straight in. Mano had dragged a trough, now filled with water, to the far corner. On the ground, he'd scattered hay left over from their winter feed. The mavericks made straight for the water. This dry country made man and beast alike more grateful for water than food.

"Hey Mano, you done good! That tack shed is lookin' better. An' you got water and hay in the co-rral for the cows, too. Tha's real good."

"Sí, mi patrón, I aim to please." Mano bowed, doffing his hat, mimicking the poor peón again. Buck grinned and slapped him on the back.

At least Manolito was jokin' agin like he use-ta. Now all Buck had to do was to persuade Brother John to take them cows with him when he left. Nothin' to it. Buck stroked his chin with a gloved hand and raised his eyebrows a might. Mebbe nothin' to it. Well, we gonna see 'bout that.