Chapter 5 – Mending Fences

Bart got up early and saddled Noble, riding into Yuma to begin the search for ranch hands. He ate breakfast at the cantina and asked about anyone looking for work; but as soon as he mentioned Molly Hooper all interest in being employed doing anything dried up. No one would give him a reason, until he finally convinced the cook to tell him, "There is a curse."

Of course that was nonsense, but perhaps what the Vaqueros thought of as a curse was actually a threat from one or more of the three men they'd heard all about last night. He finally stopped in at the marshal's office and found Conrad Sanders going through old, old 'Wanted' posters. "Lookin' for anybody in particular?" he asked the Marshal, who'd looked up and then back down when he came in.

"Yeah, you in here somewhere?"

"Nope."

"How about your partner, what was his name?"

"Delacroix," Bart answered. "Joe Delacroix. No, you won't find him in there, either."

The marshal put down the stack and motioned to a chair next to his desk. Bart sat down. "Where'd you say you two were from?"

"We didn't. You lookin' for a reason to run us outta town? You won't find one." Bart watched the lawman and grinned, always happy to aggravate most anyone that wore a badge.

"That doesn't answer my question, now does it?"

"Nope. I tell you what, you answer a question for me and I'll answer yours."

"What?" Sanders asked.

"What's this business about a curse on workin' at the Hooper ranch?"

"That is an odd one, isn't it? Far as I know it got started when one of the Vaqueros found that mare of Molly Hooper's dead. Started babbling about a 'curse' on the ranch' and it just spread."

Bart nodded. "Alright, I might be able to buy that from the Vaqueros, but nobody else will take a job there, either. Is there a story behind that?"

"That I've got no answer for," the marshal drawled. "Now, about my question . . . "

"South Carolina."

"What?"

"South Carolina. That's where we're from."

"Where in South Carolina?"

Bart shook his head. "I answered your question. That's what I agreed to. For your information, you won't find nobody back there lookin' for us, either." The gambler stood up and headed for the door. "An just in case you're wonderin', Marshal, if somebody runs Molly Hooper's horses off again, we'll be able to identify who's responsible." Bart didn't explain or clarify that remark, more than willing to let Sanders figure out what he meant all by himself.

XXXXXXXX

"What else have you got around here that needs taking care of?"

Molly had to stop and laugh. Bret had been going since early morning, repairing or replacing everything he could. Anything he and Bart hadn't been able to get done the day before, he took care of today, and it was only lunch time. "How about you stop and eat lunch?" Molly asked.

"How about we stop and eat lunch?" Bret came back with.

"Alright. Come in with me and I'll make it."

"I wanna get – "

"It will wait, Joe," Molly told him.

It had seemed odd to him at first, being called Joe, but the more he heard it the more familiar it became. So when she called him Joe now he stopped and looked at her, then grinned. "Yes, boss. Any more of that sweet tea left?"

"I've always got some of that on hand. Come on inside."

He bounded up the steps in front of her and held the door open. "Sure you want me to come in? I'm kinda dirty."

"Of course I do. Anyway, it's cooler in here."

She was right, of course. It was cooler inside. And something that was cooking smelled awfully good. "That's our dinner tonight," Molly told him. "You don't have anything against rabbit's, do you?"

He shook his head and laughed as she poured him a glass of tea and passed it over. "No, but my . . ." he caught himself before he said 'brother' . . . "partner talks to them. Not sure if they talk back or not."

"Will he eat rabbit stew?"

"He'll eat anything that smells like that. You put that with some – "

"Fresh biscuits and honey?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am, you read my mind."

"Are you always this polite, Joe? Or are you like your friend and want me to call you Delacroix?"

"Doesn't much matter. Long as you don't call me late for supper."

She presented him with a giant sandwich on homemade bread. "There's some fresh-picked apples when you're done."

"Save one of those," he told her. "Hancock'll want one for Noble."

"Thinks a lot of that gelding, doesn't he?"

"He does. Noble's saved his hide on more than one occasion. One time down in Mexico that horse is the only reason a bunch of Federales didn't kill him." Bret, of course, was thinking of the time that Bart rescued Doralice Donovan from being hung. Noble outran everything except for one lone bullet, but he was the only reason Bart didn't catch more than that before being rescued by his brother and cousin.

"Chased by Federales? Was he in trouble down there?"

"No, ma'am, he went down to rescue a woman that had killed someone in self-defense but was convicted and scheduled to be hung anyway."

"Were you with him?" she asked, even more curious than before.

"Nope. He snuck off to do it by himself. I had to go down after him. Good thing I did, too."

"Obviously you brought him back alive."

"Not for lack of trying on his part. I finished the rescue job that Noble started."

Molly watched him eat the last of the sandwich. "He'd do the same for you, wouldn't he?"

"Oh yeah. And has on many occasions. Why once . . . " he saw her watching him and stopped. "Now why am I tellin' you all this? Talk to me about Molly Hooper."

She picked up her glass and motioned for him to do the same. "Come out on the porch. I'll tell you there."

Back to the porch they went; a fresh breeze had kicked up. "It's nice this time of year, and I love to sit here and rock – just watch the trees blow and the horses play."

Bret looked over at her and saw the smile in her eyes. "How long have you been here by yourself?"

"A little over four years," she explained. "My father caught the fever that was goin' around, then pneumonia, and died in the spring. I still miss him."

"What about your ma?"

"I never knew her. She died in childbirth. Daddy raised me from the day I was born. He was a good, good, father and I miss him, still."

"No aunts, uncles or cousins?" Bret inquired.

"Nope. None. Just me and daddy, and all the ranch hands I grew up with. Jess and Dusty and Sam and Harvey. I miss them all, but when Daddy died they needed to work, and it was gonna be a good six months before I'd have jobs for them. So they found other spots. Dusty worked for Jeremiah for a while, but he finally left about a year ago. Took a job in Wyoming. I still can't imagine him in the cold, working in the wintertime."

"Yeah, Wyoming winters are not for the faint-of-heart. We spent some time up there."

She turned in her rocker. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," he told her, and immediately wondered how Bart was doing in Yuma. "What is it?"

"Do you and Hancock go everywhere together?"

He laughed out loud and finished the rest of his tea before answering her. "No. Most of the time, but not always. Like he said yesterday, he was in Nogales while I was in El Paso just recently."

"That wasn't his first trip to Mexico, was it?"

"Caught that, did you? Hancock was married a few years ago. His wife got killed and he disappeared into Mexico for six months or more. I couldn't find him, and believe me, I looked everywhere I could think of. He still won't talk about it." He paused for a moment, and exhaled before he continued. "He finally seems to have gotten over it, but it took a long time. And there wasn't anything I could do to help."

Molly's face revealed a look of sympathy. "Some things you just have to go through by yourself."

"I know that, but br . . . friends are supposed to help each other."

"He seems alright now."

"He is, for the most part. For a long time he felt guilty, but he finally realized there wasn't nothin' he could do to prevent it."

"He saw it happen?"

Bret nodded. "Happened right in front of him. Man came to kill both of 'em, shot Hancock an killed her."

"Why? What caused it, I mean?"

"Fella was after her ranch. Tried to run 'em off and they wouldn't go."

It suddenly dawned on her, why they both seemed so determined to help her. "Is that why . . . ?"

"Part of it, I'm sure."

"And you?"

"Me? I'm just here because I've got nowhere else to be."

"Mmmm-hmmm. Speaking of nowhere to be, I've got a table in the barn that needs repair. How are you with furniture?"

"Well, I've never built a school, but I think I can handle a table. What's wrong with it?"

They set their empty glasses on the porch and headed towards the barn. There was an admiration in her eyes that hadn't been there before. Back to work.