THE VIGIL AT RAILROAD RANCH.
Railroad and Randy sat down by the fire. The old man threw on a fresh
stick of wood, filled his pipe, lit it, and smoked in silence. The
clock ticked mournfully on the mantel. There was no sound about the
house except an occasional low-spoken word, or a light step on tiptoes.
The whole place seemed to be in silent mourning. It was so still in
that room that a bit of falling ember in the fire could be heard.
At last Railroad spoke:
"Randy, it looks like the old Railroad is square up ag'in' its last
fight, and mighty shorthanded for such a bad mess. Asa's gone, and I'm
too old to carry on. I been wondering about you. I ain't never pulled
the hackamore on you like I ought to, I reckon. I didn't have much fun
when I was a boy. By the time you grew up I had right smart money, and
I just turned you loose. You ain't never been rode none, Randy, and
you've sorty gone bronc on me, but, Randy--Boy, I--I need a man right
now."
Old Railroad choked and stopped. For the first time since he had stood
over Asa as he lay on the ground, the old fellow broke and a tear
glistened on his flat, hard cheek.
Followed minutes of silence. The clock ticked on. The two men,
startlingly alike except in age, sat staring into the fire, the red
light on their bronze faces.
Finally Randy stirred in his chair, cleared his throat, and said:
"Dad, I'm--I'm going to try to be a man."
Railroad turned his head and stared at Randy, as if one of his dead
sons had spoken to him, but said no word, and Randy went on:
"I've been a worthless, drunken pup, dad, and, worst of all, I've been
yellow as paint."
"No! Not yellow!"
"Yes, dad, yellow. I'm coming clean. Sank and Dolly would lie to you
about me, just as everybody else has done, but I'm going to tell you
the truth. When I saw Asa dead I didn't have the nerve to face it. I
ran away. I went to Willow Mills to get drunk and forget it, like the
yellow pup I was. That's where they found me. Don't let them tell you
anything else."
"Go on," commanded Railroad. "It's hard as hell to take, but give me
the whole dose."
"The rest won't be so hard to take, dad. Little Dolly got me out of the
Cottonwood some way. I think he must have done it with his eyes. Then
he talked to me. He made me come home. He watched me, and when I tried
to turn back and run away from it he wouldn't let me."
"God made a man when he made Dolly. If He'd made him any bigger, he'd
be the biggest man in the world. It's bitter, but I can take it. Go on."
"When we found Leck and Pate I tried to run away again. Dolly made me
help him put them on the horses. Dad, it wasn't live men I was afraid
of. It was dead men and death itself. I never told you before, because
I was ashamed of it. I'm telling you now because I'm cured of it."
"What!"
"Yes, cured. When I put my hand on Pate all the yellow went out of me.
He never was afraid; he just didn't want to hurt anybody. From that
moment on I wasn't afraid of anything, and I never will be again. All
I want now is a chance to prove it, and square things for the cold
killing of Asa and Pate."
"Thank God!" said Railroad in a husky voice as he gripped the hand of
his one remaining son. "You're giving me help when I need it. I didn't
see how I was going to get by this, but I can now."
Randy rose and left the room. Railroad didn't know where he was going.
Perhaps out to the bucket that hung on a hook on the long black
gallery, to get a drink.
Randy went into the room where his two murdered brothers lay. He turned
back the sheets and looked at them. No one in the room spoke a word.
They stared at Randy and wondered. They noticed something that Randy
himself had not noticed. His long Colt .45 was still in the holster at
his belt.
Some of the grim old punchers took it as an omen, others looked upon
it as they would have looked upon wearing a hat in the presence of the
dead.
* * * * *
Randy replaced the sheets gently, turned, and left the room. He had
faced the dead without a quiver. He could face anything now. Returning,
he sat down in the chair by his father.
"Dad, I don't know where nor how to begin, but I'm ready to try to be a
man. Tell me what to do, and I'll do my best. I don't understand why we
are in this trouble. I don't understand why the Holderness boys--"
"Just a minute, Randy. You would not understand it. It's old, old
trouble that began when you was a baby. Twenty-four year ago this
round-up time. Sam Holderness, the daddy of these Holderness boys,
ranched in above Willow Mills. Sam was a blustering sort of fellow and
didn't amount to much, but right self-important. At the round-up that
spring Sam and me had an argument over some brands.
"I don't know what anybody else said to Sam, or whether they egged him
on. All I know is that along late in the afternoon Sam came at me,
makin' smoke. I was right handy with a gun in them days; had to be. I
shot Sam.
"The bullet went through his right lung and stopped him, but didn't
kill him. He got up all right, but come winter he took pneumonia and
died. I don't know whether that bullet hole in his lung had anything
to do with it or not. Some of the doctors said it did, and others said
it didn't; but no matter. There was plenty of busybodies to say that I
killed Sam Holderness.
"I felt bad about it, of course. Sam didn't have anything much, and he
had left a widow and three little boys. Bell was about ten year old
then. A quiet, say-nothing boy. The youngest one wasn't more than a
baby. I went to the administrator of Sam's estate and put ten thousand
dollars where he could draw on it for the widow and children, without
anybody knowing where it come from."
"They made out all right. The boys grew up. Sam's widow married and
went away from this country; but the boys stayed. They worked with
cattle. I knew 'em all, and they seemed to treat me same as anybody
else.
"Then two, three year ago Steve Holderness married into the Chickasaw
tribe, across the river. Bell had got some money together, trading here
and yonder, and they started the Holderness ranch. I thought the old
trouble was all forgot, but one day Steve got drunk at Willow Mills and
give it out that I was goin' to pay for killin' his daddy.
"There was right smart talk about it here and yonder, but it died down.
Then this thing broke to-day, right out of a clear sky. Ain't no doubt
but what Bell Holderness has kept this in his gizzard all these years.
If they'd killed me, it wouldn't look so bad, but seems like they aim
to get my boys one at a time and leave me to suffer out my old age. I
thought the country had got civilized some, and we had got away from
them old wars, but I was wrong."
"I never heard of that before, dad. I could understand the Holderness
boys wanting to meet you and shoot it out, if they thought you killed
their father. But this cold killing and bushwhacking of innocent men
don't go."
"No, it oughtn't to go; but it looks like they're makin' it go. I
understand the Holderness boys are rough. I've never been to their
ranch, but I understand it's a sort of hangout for a hard gang of
fellows that's dodging the law. That reminds me of Ben Tarleton. What
in the kingdom ever made a boy, raised like Ben was, take up with
fellows like them?"
"That's the bitterest part of it all, Ben getting killed at our
round-up the way he did."
"Well, he was with them fellows. They killed Asa, and one of them got
killed. It just happened to be Ben."
"I know, dad, but--you know about Zella and me. She's the only thing
that has kept me from going plumb to the devil and being as bad as Ben
was."
"Huh! Maybe so, but I got an idea it's partly what's inside of you. I
knew you and Zella were sweethearts, and I supposed you'd marry as soon
as you got yo' crop of wild oats harvested, but now--"
"Now!" Randy almost gasped. "You wouldn't object to me marrying Zella,
because of this?"
"Oh, no. I ain't got a thing ag'in' Zella. She's one of the finest
young women in Texas. Trouble is, old Judge Tarleton and them other two
boys of hisn, Lav and Cliff, are pretty apt to object some. You look at
it from yo' relation to Zella, and it looks bad enough. Look at it from
the viewpoint of having the Tarletons join the Holderness gang ag'in'
us, and it looks a lot worse."
"I hadn't thought of that."
* * * * *
"You better think of it if you're goin' to try to work out of this
mess alive. It'll be plain enough that Ben was shot in the back. You
couldn't convince the old judge and his boys that ary Tarleton that
ever lived would turn his back to an enemy. That leaves it just plain
assassination in their minds. Besides that, Ben had not fired a shot.
Every chamber of that pearl-handled gun was full."
"Do they know all that?"
"I reckon they do, by this time. Dave Simms was here with the D Bar
outfit. They put Ben in their chuck wagon and took him over the prairie
road and around that way. Judge Tarleton and the boys may see sense,
knowing as they do how Ben's run wild lately. The chances are, though,
that they'll go clean crazy. They're good folks, but they can't believe
a Tarleton is ever wrong."
"They're the kind that can be awful hard, when they are hard," said
Randy, musingly.
"Yes, and they're apt to be hard now. They's one thing. Whatever they
do will be done in the open. They won't pot nobody from the bushes. Old
Judge Tarleton is likely to just straddle a horse and come storming
right over here."
"Dad, it's going to be hard for me," sighed Randy. "If I'd been a man
all along, I'd know how to act, but now--"
"Them's things a fellow has to learn by himself. 'Bout all I can tell
you is to keep yo' head cool. It don't take a very brave man to kill
somebody. It takes a lot braver one to not kill when he's crowded
and has a chance to kill. We can handle the Holderness gang if the
Tarletons stay out of it. If they don't? Well, let's not cross any
bridges before they're built." Lighting his pipe, old Railroad smoked
in silence, while Randy pondered his situation.
The following day was a day of funerals at Willow Mills. Members of two
of the most prominent families on that part of the border were buried
in the same cemetery. The people of the community were in attendance,
but the wise ones were tight-lipped. The trouble between Railroad Ross
and Sam Holderness was recalled by old men, and they wagged their heads
over it.
Few knew any of the facts about the killing of Asa Ross and Ben
Tarleton at the Railroad round-up. Randy Ross, Dolly and Sank, and old
Railroad knew of the bushwhacking of Pate and Leck, but they had told
nothing.
The cortege that came in from the Railroad ranch was ominous. A wagon
brought three caskets. Ahead of the wagon rode ten armed men, with
Randy Ross in the leading pair, and Dolly by his side. Behind the wagon
came the family carriage and a few other vehicles, followed by ten more
armed men.
There was pretty likely to be peace until the funeral was over, or
a lot more graves would be needed. The procession filed through the
wide gate and stopped. At the grave the armed punchers stood about in
groups, bare-headed but vigilant.
The Tarleton funeral had entered the gate a few minutes ahead of them.
The graves were less than a hundred feet apart. With bowed gray heads,
Railroad Ross and the venerable Judge Tarleton stood with their backs
to each other, listening to the last rites of their sons.
Randy, outwardly cold but inwardly torn with emotion, stood by his
mother's chair. He quivered as his ear caught a few words of what the
minister was saying at Ben Tarleton's grave. Among them were, "stricken
down in the bloom of youth by an assassin's bullet." That told him how
the Tarletons had taken Ben's death, and what he might expect from
them in his hour of trouble.
He glanced toward that other funeral, and saw Zella sobbing in the arms
of a neighboring woman, and his heart almost broke, because he could
not even offer a word of comfort to this woman, who he had loved from
his boyhood and who needed him now as he needed her.
* * * * *
There was no disturbance at the cemetery. Randy had expected none; but
on the return to the ranch every bend of the road, every thicket by the
way, was a potential ambush.
He was head of the Railroad outfit now. Old Railroad Ross and his
wife got into their carriage when the funeral was over, and waited
deferentially for the Tarleton carriage to pass out ahead of them. In
it were the judge and his wife, Zella and her two brothers.
There was little show of emotion. Railroad and his wife were silent
because they had seen so much sorrow and knew the futility of violent
grief. The Tarletons were silent, because violent emotion was
unbecoming their patrician blood and lineage. No one in the Tarleton
carriage looked toward the Ross equipage.
Passing out the gate, the Tarletons went on toward the white house in
the locust grove, followed by no one. Outside the gate, the Railroad
outfit formed again, as it had come, and followed at a respectful
distance. Two old men stood at the cemetery gate talking, as the crowd
broke up and left.
"I never noticed Randy Ross lookin' so much like his daddy before,"
said one.
"Looks just like Railroad did twenty or thirty year ago," replied the
other, "but he won't never be the man his daddy is, if he lives--and he
won't."
"Say he won't? Why?"
"I picked up a smatterin' of how this mess comes up. The real quarrel
is with the Holderness boys, over the killin' of old Sam years ago.
Worst thing Randy's up ag'in', though, is the Tarleton boys. They ain't
afraid and they mean business."
"Well, it ain't my quarrel. The less outsiders say about a mess like
this, the less they're likely to have to swallow."
"That's right. I wouldn't mention it, except to a fellow like you. It's
their quarrel. Hands off and let 'em settle it, I say."
In those few words the sentiment of the better element of the community
was expressed, and they would studiously refrain from talking; but
there were plenty of irresponsible people who would take sides and let
their tongues wag.
Nothing befell the Railroad outfit on the return trip to the ranch.
Things were set as nearly to rights as they could be after such a
catastrophe. The men went about the late evening ranch work, getting
ready for the next day's handling of stock, branding, and the like. Old
Railroad and Randy kept to the house. Sank and Dolly went out to round
up the remuda.
* * * * *
"Dolly," said Sankey, "I got an idea that you've elected yo'self to a
right dangerous place."
"Anybody that sticks to the old Railroad now is in a dangerous place,
and anybody that quits it is a yeller-bellied hound."
"That may be true, and I reckon it is; but I don't aim to quit, so
you ain't hurt my feelings none. Point is, Randy Ross aims to ride,
and ride hell-bent for trouble. The Railroad riders will have to go
in pairs or better, and somebody's got to ride with Randy. After what
happened last night, he's apt to take you."
"Well, I'd hate to leave you, but if he calls me, I'll have to ante."
"Yes, I know you will. Trouble is, whoever rides with Randy is due for
about what Leck got for riding with Pate. That Holderness gang aims to
clean up on the Railroad and do it quick."
"Looks like it, but unless I miss my measure of Randy, he'll be at the
cleaning."
"With the Holderness gang, yes. With the Tarletons, he can't turn a
hand."
"Why can't he?"
"Account of Zella."
"Huh! You may see it that way, but I don't. I can see how a man could
love that girl to death, but I can't see why he should stand still and
let her folks shoot him to shoestrings on account of it, and I don't
believe Randy can. Anyway, I ain't in love with her, and if I happen to
be between them and Randy, or can get between 'em--"
"Steady! Wait till it happens, to talk about it, and then don't talk.
Whatever way things jump, you and me will work together, and we'll find
plenty to do before this thing is over. I'm just a pore old puncher,
and Randy Ross is the only heir to the Railroad and about a million
bronchos and cattle, and has got a fighting chance for the finest girl
in Texas, but I wouldn't trade places with him for a whole lot to boot."
The Railroad was quiet enough that night. The men were catching up
with their sleep. No one was likely to attack the place, when thirty
hard riders and straight shooters were known to be there. But Randy's
troubles were not far off.
Came morning, and true to Sankey's prediction, Randy called Dolly to
ride with him, but he arranged for Sankey and another trusted old
puncher, Con Bates, to be always on the same part of the range with
them. They had just saddled up and were ready to ride.
Old Railroad Ross was giving Randy some instructions about the work,
when they heard a lone horseman coming up the trail. They turned and
saw that the gaunt, stiff man astride the powerful horse was Judge
Tarleton!