Ralph Compton Ride the Hard Trail

Chapter 1

They were night and day.

The older brother had neatly combed hair the color of straw. He was wide of shoulder and narrow of waist, and rode with his back straight and his blue eyes alert. His clothes were those of a cowman: a high-crowned hat and cowhide vest, both brown, a green homespun shirt and denims.

The younger brother had a shock of hair as black as a raven. He was thin and sinewy and rode slouched in the saddle, half dozing. His hat was black with a deep crease and a wide brim. His shirt was blue. He also wore denims.

The dust that caked their clothes and mounts testified to the many miles they had ridden. The blond brother rode a palomino, or buttermilk, as they were sometimes called. The black-haired brother rode a zebra dun.

The trail they were following across the prairie was marked with hoofprints and wheel ruts. Presently it brought them to the top of a hogback sprinkled with sage.

Drawing rein, the older brother pushed his hat back on his head and bobbed his square jaw at a cluster of buildings a quarter of a mile off, nestled at the foot of the Big Horn Mountains. Yonder is a settlement. We will stop there for a spell, Chancy.

The younger brother looked up and frowned. A gob of spit in the middle of nothing. We came all this way, and for what, Lin?

Lin Bryce sighed. The crow’s-feet around his eyes crinkled as he tiredly rubbed them. You know as well as I do why. And you would do well not to remind me.

Chancy’s frown deepened. I hate it when you take that tone. You are not Pa.

If he were still alive, we would not be here, Lin said wistfully. We would still be on the ranch. Ma would be her old self, and it would all be as it was when we were young.

You live too much in the past, Big Brother, Chancy said. It is now that counts.

You never think of him? Of how things used to be?

Chancy yawned. Why live yesterday all over again? What is done is done. He died and Ma died and we lost everything and are drifting God knows where.

We need not have drifted, Lin said harshly.

Don’t start. I am not in the mood. I will be damned if I will listen to another of your lectures. Chancy gigged the zebra dun.

Lin clucked to his buttermilk and followed. He studied the buildings as they drew near. Most were so shabby, they looked fit to blow away with the next Chinook. The exceptions were a general store and a saloon. Horse and pig droppings littered the short street.

Lin brought the buttermilk to a stop at the hitch rail in front of the general store. Chancy had already dismounted and gone in. As Lin alighted, an elderly man in an apron appeared holding a yellow dog by the scruff of its neck.

When will you listen, you ornery mongrel? Setting the dog down, he gave it a hard shake. Stay out of my store! I won’t have you underfoot, and I don’t want your fleas. With that, he kicked the dog in the backside. Yelping, the animal ran off. Chuckling to himself, the man smoothed his apron.

Are you as friendly to strangers? Lin asked.

The man started. I didn’t see you there, mister. And no, as a general rule I don’t kick people.

Where might I be? Lin asked.

Wyoming.

Lin waited, and when no more information was forthcoming, he remarked, You are downright comical.

Be specific. I can educate you, but I can’t make you think, and you don’t want to go through life with a puny thinker.

Chuckling, Lin strode around the hitch rail. I take it back. You are not comical. You are a philosopher.

The man smiled and offered his bony hand. Abe Tucker. What might your handle be?

Lin hesitated. He noticed the color of the man’s suspenders. Gray, he lied. My name is Lin Gray.

Well, Mr. Gray, Abe said, encompassing the hamlet with a sweep of his bony arm, this here is Mason. It is named after an old trapper who lived in these parts nigh on forty years. We have a population of fifteen if you count that dog.

Lin gazed to the southeast, out over the rolling grassland he and his brother had crossed, and then to the west at the emerald foothills and the timbered slopes of the towering mountains beyond. Nowhere else was there sign of human habitation. You must not aim to die rich.

Abe Tucker laughed. If money was all I cared about, I’d have opened my store in Sheridan. Last I heard, they have pretty near two hundred souls. That is too many for me. I can only abide people in small doses.

We passed through Sheridan on our way here, Lin mentioned. I counted three saloons and two churches.

If parsons served liquor at their services, Sheridan would have five churches and no saloons. Abe arched an eyebrow at the doorway. You said ‘we.’ Is that young gent who walked in a minute ago with you?

My brother.

He is not very polite. He bumped into me and did not have the courtesy to say he was sorry. Abe paused. I almost gave him a piece of my mind, but something in his eyes stopped me.

He is peaceful enough. Lin told his second lie of the day. But he is not much on manners.

The young usually aren’t. They reckon they know better than their betters, and strut around like roosters. Abe smiled. I did the same when I was his age. But we all grow up eventually.

Some of us, Lin said. He went in.

The store was dark and cool, a welcome relief from the sun. For a small settlement the store was well stocked, the merchandise neatly arranged. Salt, sugar, molasses, eggs, butter—all could be had. Canned goods lined a shelf on one wall. Tools, knives and firearms were on display.

Chancy was at the counter next to a pair of kegs. One was marked APPLE CIDER. He was filling a glass from a spigot. This gob of spit is not entirely hopeless.

Lin stepped to the cracker barrel. You would do better to eat. We did not have breakfast.

Abe Tucker moved behind the counter. Anything that you boys want that you don’t see, just ask.

How about a filly in a tight red dress? Chancy responded.

I am not in the painted-cat business, son. The nearest women to be had for money are in Sheridan.

I figured as much, Chancy said. And I am not your son, nor will I ever be, he coldly added.

No offense meant.

Lin held a cracker to his lips but did not take a bite. Don’t start, he told his brother. You would think you had learned your lesson by now.

I am just saying, is all, Chancy said. People should not call you their son when you are not.

Abe glanced at Lin. A mite touchy, this brother of yours.

You have no idea, Lin said. But he did, and he worried that Chancy’s touchiness would cause them to continue their flight. He changed the subject. Tell me, Mr. Tucker: Are there many ranches hereabouts?

If four are a lot, then yes, the storekeeper said. Looking to hire on, are you?

I am a tolerable hand, Lin said.

When you leave Mason, head southwest. In about a mile you will come on Laurel Creek. Follow it west six or seven miles and you will be on the Bar M. That is the biggest outfit in these parts. But the owner, Seth Montfort, is particular about who he hires. It is not enough to know cows these days.

No?

Of late he has been hiring gents who are fond of tie-downs, Abe Tucker revealed.

Chancy’s interest perked. You don’t say? What does this Montfort need with leather slappers?

Abe stared at the pearl-handled Colt high on Chancy’s right hip, then at Lin, who did not wear a six-gun. You would have to ask him. I took you for one, what with that fancy smoke wagon of yours.

Grinning, Chancy patted his Colt. Cost me a hundred dollars, but it was worth every cent.

Throwing lead always leads to trouble, young man. You would do well to imitate your brother.

Don’t tell me what to do. Chancy bristled. I will live as I damn well please.

Lin moved between them, saying, Simmer down. He was only suggesting, and he is right.

Here you go again.

No, Lin said. I have talked until I am hoarse, and you refuse to listen. So wear it if you want, and I pray to God it doesn’t get you killed. He faced the owner. You mentioned four ranches.

Abe nodded. The other three are small outfits. To the northwest is Aven Magill. He lives alone and likes it that way, so there is no sense asking him for work. Besides, he is a grump, and you would not want to work for him if he did hire you. Abe paused. To the west are two ranches. The farthest out is Cody Dixon and his family. A bit closer is Etta June Cather’s spread.

A woman?

Her husband got kicked in the head breaking a raw one about a year ago. Etta June has a boy and a girl, but they are only ten and eight. Too young to be of much help. She runs the ranch herself and does a fine job, but she works herself to death.

A rustling sound caused them to glance down the aisle. A woman was standing there. She was tall and full bodied. Her plain dress and Zouave jacket, which had seen a lot of wear, hinted at frugal means. Sandy hair spilled from under a floppy hat. I thank you for the compliment, Mr. Tucker, she said, her hazel eyes twinkling.

Dang it, Etta June, Abe said. You ought not to sneak up on people like that.

She smiled and came to the counter, paying no attention whatsoever to Lin and Chancy. I need a few things on account, if that is all right.

Your credit is always good with me, Abe said kindly.

Chancy held out his half-full glass. Care for some cider, pretty thing? I do not mind sharing.

Since when is it proper to address a lady so familiarly? I am not a tart. Etta June Cather reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. Here is my list, Mr. Tucker. She went to hand it to him, but Chancy snatched it from her.

See here, Abe said. What do you think you are doing?

Chancy wagged the paper. I will not be treated as a no-account. She will say she is sorry, or she does not get it back.

Why, you upstart, Abe said.

Lin held out his hand, palm up. Give it to me.

You heard her, Chancy snapped. I was only being sociable. Where was the harm?

Give it, Lin repeated.

Sometimes you go too far. If you weren’t my brother, I would have bedded you down—permanent—a long time ago.

Lin wiggled his fingers.

Scowling, Chancy slapped the paper into Lin’s hand. Here. Take it. But I will not put up with much more of this. I can manage on my own if I have to.

Wheeling, he stalked toward the door, his spurs jingling. As he went out, he slammed the door after him.

Temperamental, that youngster, Abe Tucker commented.

Lin leaned back against the counter and folded his arms across his broad chest. He is seventeen. There are ten years between us, and sometimes it seems like fifty.

Etta June said, I am sorry if I upset him, but he had no call to do that.

I don’t blame you, ma’am, Lin told her, giving back her list. In fact— He stopped. Spurs had jangled near the front of the store. Listen, Chancy, he began, turning.

It was not his brother.

The man who had entered favored black: a black wide-brimmed hat, a black jacket, a black vest and belt and boots. The garb of a gambler. A nickel-plated Smith & Wesson in a studded black holster was slanted across his left hip, butt forward. His face seemed perpetually pinched, as if he were sucking on a lemon. A thread of a mustache adorned his upper lip. He ignored Lin and Abe Tucker and walked up to Etta June Cather, his mouth curling in a grin that was more of a leer. Well, look here. My favorite female in all the world. I am right pleased to see you, Etta.

I cannot say the same, Mr. Pike, the ranchwoman responded. Not if you are going to carry on again as you have been.

I do not take no for an answer, Pike said. He placed a hand on her wrist. How about if you and me take a stroll and talk?

We have nothing to talk about.

Don’t be contrary, Pike said, pulling on her arm. You have been without male company for a long time now.

Release me, if you please, Etta June said. She tried to twist free, but his grip was too strong.

I will not, Pike said. His leer widened. Not unless you are nice.

Lin Bryce straightened and squared his shoulders. Balling his big fists, he said quietly, Let the lady go.

Chapter 2

Lin was as surprised as the others by what he had done. He’d vowed to tread lightly after what had happened in Cheyenne. He did not want to draw attention to himself—or to his brother. But here he was, butting in to a matter that did not concern him. Inwardly, he wanted to kick himself. He was a fine one to criticize Chancy.

What did you say? the man called Pike demanded.

You heard me, Lin said. I will not see a woman abused by you or anyone else.

Pike looked Lin up and down. Big talk for someone who does not go around heeled.

Lin stepped up to him, looming large. Don’t let that stop you.

Abe Tucker quickly said, I don’t want trouble in here.

Stay out of this, Pike snapped.

I will shut up after I say one more thing, Abe said. And that is that Seth Montfort won’t be none too happy to hear about how you are treating Etta June. Or don’t you care if you rile him?

You are a nuisance, old man, Pike said. But he released his hold and lowered his arm. To Lin he said, I won’t forget this. He touched his hat brim to Etta June, hooked his thumbs in his gun belt and departed with a swagger.

Abe waited until the door closed to say, You can always tell a blockhead. They go around with chips on their shoulders.

Someone will knock his off one day, Lin commented.

Etta June smiled up at him. I thank you for stepping in. It was awfully kind.

A warm sensation crept from Lin’s collar to his hair-line, and he knew he was blushing. A man should not mistreat a woman.

I wish I had some way of repaying your gallant gesture. Etta June held out her hand and properly introduced herself.

Lin did likewise, growing hotter. He did not use his real name.

He mentioned being in need of work, Abe Tucker brought up.

You don’t say? Etta June Cather’s brow knit. I have been thinking of hiring someone. But I can’t pay much. Board and meals, and a few dollars when I have a few to spare.

Are you offering me a job, ma’am? Lin asked, breaking into a broad grin. He could not believe his luck. It was just what they needed. The thought sobered him. Because if you are, I am afraid there is a complication.

Oh?

That scalawag who took your shopping list. Where I go, he has to go. As you saw, he needs looking after.

So if I hire you, I have to hire him? Etta June stared at the floor. She bit her lower lip, then said, I suppose I could feed the both of you. But I am not so sure he is right for the job. How hard will he work?

As hard as I make him. And you need not fret in any other respect. He will behave himself. I give you my word.

You have that much influence over him, Mr. Gray?

I like to think I do, yes, ma’am. And you can call me Lin.

We will keep our relationship formal, if you do not mind, Etta June told him. And before you agree, there is something else you should know. I do not have a bunkhouse. You and your brother would have to sleep in the stable or out under the stars.

That is nothing new to us, ma’am.

I have hundreds of head scattered over a thousand acres. They need to be rounded up and branded, and then we can drive some to market. There is fence to put up. I might even have you build a bunkhouse so you will have a roof over your head.

I am not afraid of hard work.

Neither was my husband, Etta June said.

Abe here told me about him, Lin replied. I am sorry for you. Losing someone you love is always hard.

I warned Tom not to try to break that mustang alone. But he was prideful and had to prove to me that he could do it. So in a way I am to blame for his death.

That is plumb ridiculous, Lin said.

Etta June gave him a sharp look. Everything Tom did, he did for me. He came to Wyoming from Missouri because I wanted to live in the West. He bought our land because I wanted to have a ranch. He built our house to suit me. And he was breaking that mustang because I wanted more horses and we could not afford to buy them.

It was the mustang that busted his skull, not you.

I would rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.

Certainly, ma’am. Lin backed down the aisle. I will go give the good news to my brother. How soon would you want us at your ranch?

I intend to head back in an hour. You may accompany me if you still want the job.

I will not change my mind, Lin assured her. Pivoting on a boot heel, he ambled outside. He was so happy at the turn of events that he momentarily forgot about his clash with Pike. The sight of the gambler talking to his brother across the street reminded him. He headed straight for them, surprised to see they were smiling and laughing.

Pike turned, his hand rising toward his revolver. Well, look who it is. Mr. High-and-Mighty, as big as life.

My brother? Chancy said.

Your what? Pike grinned as if it were humorous.

Lin halted.

Him and me had words over in the store, Pike explained to Chancy. I can’t say as I like him much.

I will not lose sleep over it, Lin said.

Chancy stepped between them. Sheath your horns, Big Brother. I happen to like this hombre. His handle is Efram Pike, and we have a lot in common.

You just met him.

I can make friends, can’t I? Chancy said. He has invited me to play cards tonight.

And have him win what little money you have? Lin shook his head. Besides, we won’t be here. We will be settling in at our new job.

You found us work already?

Lin noticed that his brother did not sound particularly pleased. On a ranch. The pay is not great, but we will eat regular, and it gives us time to hash over what we want to do.

I know I do not want to ranch.

Pike said, I don’t blame you. It is hard, brutal work. I did it for a while years ago and never had more blisters in my life.

It is decent, Lin said.

You make too much out of right and wrong, Chancy responded. And there are easier ways to make money than by breaking our backs.

You don’t mean that, Lin said.

Efram Pike started walking off. I have better things to do than listen to you two squabble. If you care to join me tonight, kid, my invite holds. But don’t bring your brother. He puts on too many airs. Pike glanced over his shoulder at Chancy. And to prove I am not out to fleece you, leave your money with him. I will stake you in the game, and you will not need to pay me back. He sauntered on into the saloon.

Chancy glared at Lin. You made a jackass of yourself just now. And a fool of me.

You are the one who was rude to a lady.

What the blazes does that have to do with how you talked to Pike? Chancy swore. You worry me sometimes, Big Brother. You can be worse than Ma used to be.

Ma was as fine a woman as ever drew breath, and she would still be alive if— Lin caught himself.

If not for Pa? Chancy prompted. Is that what you were fixing to say?

We have about an hour before we head out to the ranch where we will work, Lin said. We should check that there is nothing we need.

You didn’t answer me, Chancy said.

Let’s not go into that again. Lin crossed to the buttermilk. He opened first one and then the other of his saddlebags and rummaged inside, verifying he had enough coffee and jerky and whatnot. When his brother did not join him, he looked around. What are you waiting for?

I am not fond of your company at the moment.

You are too prickly, Lin said.

Motioning in disgust, Chancy made off down the street. I want to be by myself a while.

Lin opened his mouth to say something, but just then the door to the general store opened and out came Etta June Cather. She came to the hitch rail, raised a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun and studied him.

So.

Ma’am?

Mr. Tucker will be a good twenty minutes filling my order. How would you like to take a walk?

Me, ma’am?

I am not addressing your horse, Etta June said. Why do you sound so surprised? Or is it that you do not like to walk with women?

I guess I would be flattered to walk with you, ma’am, Lin said.

You guess? For a man your size, you are not a mountain of certainty. Etta June took a few steps and glanced back at him. You can follow behind if you want, but it is easier to talk when we are side by side.

Yes, ma’am. Lin scooted over and matched his normally long stride to her shorter one.

First things first, Etta June began. "I want to thank you for agreeing to work for me. I need a good man—a man I can