Lone Star 50

Chapter 1

On the near-frozen ground of the Staked Plains the buckboard left no sign of its passing. No dust clouds and no wheel ruts. But for once, stealth and secrecy were not a concern of the two occupants of the wagon.

Jessie Starbuck sat with the reins lying loosely in her lap, and before she realized it her eyes had closed lazily. Momentarily she remained poised on the brink of sleep, then jerked her head up with a start. Her clear green eyes were instantly alert, and a slow smile crossed her pretty face. The tall, good-looking man who sat beside her noticed her reaction, and smiled too.

I guess old habits die hard, huh, Ki?

Vigilance is not a frivolous trait, Jessie.

But it seems so unnecessary now. Her eyes took in the expanse of the plateau they now traveled across. For as far as the eye could see there was no change in the land, no landmark, and no sign of man, past or present.

If you are referring to the death of the cartel, I’d have to agree with you, but if you’re talking about the security of all this—he began to shake his head slowly—it can be deceiving. A few braves or bushwhackers could hide in one of the larger buffalo wallows, and you’d be on them before you realized it.

Jessie studied Ki. In all the years she had known him he seemed to have changed little. Even though he was just a young man when her father first brought the half-Japanese, half-American to this country to act as her bodyguard, Ki had always been tall, strong, and very masculine. His dark hair had always been shiny and long, and he always wore that same smile. It had taken her years to figure out Ki’s sense of humor, and even now she wasn’t so sure. His face was always smooth and beardless. The pencil-thin mustache that clung to his upper lip was the exception. Jessie knew he hadn’t always had that, but for the life of her she couldn’t picture him without it. Ki must have changed some, Jessie realized, but being so close to him day in, day out made it hard to see the change. She had been just a young girl when Ki first came to the Circle Star. Then he had been very much her teacher, but now she was a full-grown woman. She often wondered if Ki ever noticed. And old roles are hard to change, she commented aloud.

Ki was not thrown by the apparent shift in the conversation. I see no reason for them to change, he stated flatly. There was a slight pause, and Jessie considered his response. She wondered if he really understood what she had meant. Cartel or no cartel, I’m still concerned with your safety. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, Jessie.

Jessie started to speak, then stopped herself abruptly. She had been about to say that there had to be more to it than just Ki’s sense of duty and obligation. But she realized how pointless an observation that would be. Jessie herself had risked her life many times when she thought Ki was in danger, and of course duty and responsibility had nothing to do with it. But still, it’s nice not to have to always be looking over your shoulder, or as you put it, she added with a smile, into every buffalo wallow.

You are still not without enemies. Apparently Ki had more to say on the subject. Any businesswoman in your position is bound to have a few enemies—

Yes, but few of them wish us dead. And even those few are unlikely to try and put a bullet in the back of our heads. Ki seemed unimpressed. And most importantly, Ki, Jessie added with emphasis, none have the power of the cartel.

The memory of the syndicate that had caused both her parents’ deaths still brought her pain. While she and Ki had battled the cartel, that pain had been channeled into anger and action, but now, with the cartel destroyed and its evil gone, there was no reason to dwell on the subject. She wrapped the long sheepskin jacket a little tighter around her legs. Do you think we’ll make the lowlands by tonight, Ki?

I hope so. It may not be any warmer there, but I think the night winds won’t blow as fierce. Ki reached behind him and pulled out a wool blanket. He opened it and spread it out across their laps. Ki, like Jessie, was also bundled in a sheepskin jacket, but unlike Jessie‘s, which was long enough to cover her legs, Ki’s jacket was waist-length. He preferred to keep his legs, a powerful weapon in themselves, free and unencumbered.

Jessie moved an inch closer to Ki. Thank you, Ki. For everything.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon when they reached the adobe-and-sod structure. Since Ki had spotted the thin wisps of smoke curling up from the chimney a few miles back, they had both been looking forward to a hot meal and a warm place to sleep. But now a husky man stood in the doorway and pointed his Winchester directly at them.

Jessie understood the natural tendency for homesteaders always to be on their guard, but something in the man’s stance seemed unnecessarily hostile. She noticed he seemed more interested in the wagon than in the two strangers who stood before him. After their earlier discussion it would be ironic for some sodbuster to try and rob them. There wasn’t much of a chance that he could succeed, but it would certainly add emphasis to Ki’s comments. Jessie groaned to herself over the fact that, once again, Ki would prove to be right. He was never one to say, I told you so, but even unspoken, it still annoyed her. What rankled her more was the probability they’d be spending another cold night under the stars.

You folks are a long way from anywhere, the man said suspiciously.

One could say the same about you, mister, Jessie shot back.

The man seemed surprised, and lowered his rifle just a tad. It took Jessie a moment to realize that with the light fading, and bundled up as she was, the man probably had not taken her for a woman. He seemed a bit more relaxed, but still remained cautious. Didn’t mean no offense, ma‘am. We don’t get many travelers through here.

We’re on our way to the Indian reservation. That seemed to surprise him even more. We were hoping for a hot meal and a warm place to sleep.

S’ long as there’s no guns or whiskey in that wagon there’s always room at the table.

Take a look for yourself, suggested Ki. Nothing but blankets, provisions, and some tools.

I trust you, friend. The man lowered his rifle. I reckon if you truly were runnin’ guns up to the Injuns you’d tell me anythin’ but you was headin’ up to Three Rivers. He extended his hand. The name’s Caldwell, Sam Caldwell. C‘mon inside, my boys’ll tend to your team.

Dinner with the Caldwells was a warm, friendly affair. Sam’s wife Elsa had prepared a hearty stew of garden vegetables and salt pork. Even in the finer restaurants of San Francisco it would have been good fare, and Jessie said so.

Sam Caldwell beamed with pride. We grow everything right out back, and by next season we should have twice as many hogs.

You’ve done all right, Mr. Caldwell, Jessie said with true respect. Men who came into the wilderness and carved a place for themselves and their families always earned Jessie’s admiration.

Sam put his arm around his wife. But I couldn’t have done it without my family.

Looking at Elsa Caldwell, Jessie realized his words were not empty flattery. Elsa was a robust woman whose prematurely graying hair and wrinkled hands attested to the rigors of pioneer life. But there was laughter and kindness in her eyes that even the coldest winters and harshest drafts could not kill. Once, she must have looked much like her daughter Sara, with long, straight brown hair and an engaging smile. The two boys favored their father more, and both had curly brown hair. Toby, the oldest at sixteen, was already the spitting image of his father, with his high forehead and broad nose. It was still uncertain how much James, who was all of eight, would look like his pa.

An’ I reckon the house ain’t much, but it keeps us warm an’ dry. Sam turned to his son. Next year, me an’ Toby are gonna put down a wood floor, and if’n it’s a good year maybe a real glass window or two.

I know how working the land can be, but I’m sure you’ll get around to it all, Jessie assured him. In no time you’ll have a real palace here. You’ve made a good start. The worst is over.

Sam and his wife exchanged glances. Jessie could feel the tension in the air.

That’s why we’re not gonna let anyone run us off.

Jessie wondered what was behind that statement, but was hesitant to pry into their affairs. They had just met, and there was no reason for the Caldwells to trust a stranger. But if she could, she wanted to help. Her thoughts were cut short.

Was you at the Alamo? James blurted out with sudden urgency. He had probably just made the connection between Jessie hailing from Texas and his favorite history lesson. Did you know Davy Crockett?

It was a little before my time, James. She could see the disappointment on the child’s face. But when they were young, Ki knew Jim Bowie. They used to play mumblety-peg together.

Gol-ly!

Ignoring the surprised look on Ki’s face, and spurred on by the smiles of Sam and Elsa, Jessie continued. Why, he was the one who taught Jim to throw a knife. Somehow it didn’t seem like the lie it was. There was no doubt in Jessie’s mind that if Ki had known the legendary Bowie, he probably could have taught him a thing or two about knife-throwing. Her mind wandered even a bit further. And James, she continued in a conspirator’s tone, had Ki been at the Alamo, things might have gone quite a bit differently. She actually believed that herself.

James’s mouth dropped open and he looked at Ki with awe and admiration. Jessie was curious to see how Ki would respond, his policy of honesty now in serious jeopardy. Surprisingly, Ki ignored the boy and turned to the father instead. Do you have problems with coyotes?

Why do you ask? Sam became suddenly serious.

There’s something out there spooking the horses. The room became silent, and after a moment the faint whinny of the horses could be heard.

Toby, go out an’ check on the animals. Excuse us. They left the table, and Jessie noticed that Sam grabbed the Winchester as he stepped outside.

Elsa continued to question Jessie about big-city ways and the latest fashions, but the conversation was forced and strained. It seemed more out of politeness to her guests than out of real interest that she kept the topic going. Clearly, she was preoccupied with whatever danger might be facing her home and family.

It wasn’t long before Sam and Toby returned. They looked none too happy. There’s something out there all right, Ki, but I don’t think it’s coyotes. Sara, put James to bed. When the two youngest had left the room Sam turned back to his guests. I’m sorry to get you caught up in all this, but I reckon you’ll be a lot safer in here than out there.

Caught up in what, Mr. Caldwell? Jessie asked.

A dry chuckle escaped his lips. It’s been happenin’ so regular now, I forget there are folks that don’t know what’s goin’ on. He paused, almost not knowing how to put it into words.

Elsa turned to Ki. Those ain’t coyotes, Ki, they’re Indians.

Sam nodded his head. We got Indian problems. Comanches!

The word had a strange dizzying effect on Jessie, and she suddenly felt like a little girl. Vague memories lost to her conscious mind rushed through her. The Comanches had a special meaning to anyone growing up on the Texas frontier. The Circle Star did not suffer much at the hands of the Indians. Jessie liked to think that was due to Alex Star- ‘ buck’s fair treatment of his Comanche neighbors, but in truth it had little to do with any sign of respect for her father, and more to do with the fortification of the ranch house, and the veritable army of ranch hands that were always nearby. It was wiser for the Indians to prey on the weaker ranchers than go up against the might of the Starbuck empire. Though Jessie had experienced few firsthand incidents with marauding Indians, there’d been plenty of stories told about the gruesome raids. But there was that one night that the Comanche leader Nokoni and his band of Kwahadi braves came swooping down on the Circle Star....

Jessie, are you all right? Ki asked with concern.

Jessie was startled. Oh, I‘m, ah . . .

You look pale as a ghost.

I’m fine, Ki.

You can go an’ lie down with Sara and James if you’d like, Sam suggested.

That won’t be necessary, Jessie answered, her color now back to normal. I was just thinking of a night very much like this. It was long ago.

Sam Caldwell seemed to understand and said nothing. But Elsa was still concerned about her guest. If gunfire’ll upset you, you might be better off in the back.

That brought a smile to Ki’s face. Don’t count her out so quickly, he said, the grin still plastered to his face. She might be a better shot than anyone in this room.

Sam nodded his head. Now, it may not come down to that. They may be riding through, or they may just sneak in an’ steal a chicken or two.

Sometimes we let ‘em go in an’ take what they want. S’long as they don’t do it too often or take too much. We don’t want no trouble, Elsa explained to no one in particular.

Maybe I’ll go out and check on our wagon.

Hold it, Ki. It may be nothin‘, but then again, no one can say fer sure. You’d best stay inside.

Ki turned to Jessie, but the question was soon resolved. Gunshots rang out in the night.

Douse the lamps, Sam ordered. But Elsa was already doing it.

From nowhere, Toby came in and handed Jessie a powerful Sharp’s rifle. If you’re as good a shot as Ki says, you should have this.

You keep it, Toby. It has a bit too much of a kick for me. She crossed over to where her jacket hung on a peg, and pulled out her cordovan leather holster from the large side pocket. She unrolled the gunbelt and gripped the custom-made, slate-gray Colt .38 by its polished peachwood handle.

The beauty of the weapon did not go unnoticed. Toby let out an appreciative Wow, and added, I reckon you are as good as Ki says.

Jessie winked at him. Let’s get into position.

Toby, you an’ Jessie take the far window, me an’ Ki got this one. And don’t start firin’ till your eyes ‘come accustomed to the dark.

Right, Pa.

The heavy wooden shutters had a tiny slat in them that, when opened, gave enough room for a clear shot, yet offered a fair amount of protection for the rifleman. Jessie and Toby knelt by the crack and waited for their eyes to adjust.

Sure is black out there, Toby stated plainly.

Jessie looked up at the sky. It was an overcast night; not a single star could be seen. I thought the Comanches wouldn’t attack on a moonless night.

Don’t really know. That may have been true once, but now they’ve learned a lot from other tribes. I’ve heard some say you can’t tell one tribe from another these days, they’re all actin’ so alike.

Sam and Ki, using one of the Caldwells’ revolvers, began firing from their window. Can’t really see clear, but we can’t let ‘em march right up to the door, Sam called out.

Right, Pa. Toby began firing out the window, and Jessie did the same. Soon the room was filled with acrid gun-smoke. Whatever they’re up to they’re stayin’ pretty far back, Pa.

They’re showing their respect for that Big Fifty, Jessie said as she motioned to Toby’s rifle. The large boom of the Sharp’s could not be mistaken for anything else. It went without saying what a gun that could down a buffalo could do to a man. But what a white man understood as simple respect, an Indian interpreted as fear. And it was unlike a Comanche to show fear of anything, especially in battle.

Sam kept cocking and firing his Winchester as fast as possible. Keep firin‘, Toby, I think we might be scarin’ them off.

Jessie didn’t think a Comanche war party could be scared off. When braves set out on a raid, only insurmountable