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Slowly but Surely Ch. 01

By: JakeRivers



Author's Note:

This is my fifth semi-annual "invitational." The initial one was based on the Statler Brother's song, "This Bed of Rose's." The second used the Marty Robbins El Paso trilogy: "El Paso" "El Paso City " and "Faleena." The third had stories based on the various versions of "Maggie May" or "Maggie Mae." The fourth invitational was based on any Country & Western song.

The current invitational is based on any song written or performed by Merle Haggard. Please watch for and take a look at the stories by the various authors contributing to this invitational.

The Merle song I've chosen for my story, "Slowly But Surely" was written by Fuzzy Owen and was done as a duet with Bonnie Owens: 

My love's growing stronger I can't wait much longer.  I'm falling in love with you. Slowly but surely I'm falling in love ...  Yes I'm falling in love falling in love with you.

I might do a second song/story by Merle, "Go Home."

I hope you enjoy this story. Your comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated. A big thank you to Mistress Lynn for her editing. 

Regards, Jake

*

Chapter One -- Trial by Fire

I didn't know the guy but I liked his spirit. He was maybe in his early forties, short and stocky, and he made me think of a cocky bantam rooster. He was playing poker at the high-stakes table. Almost everyone knew Julesburg was the 'wickedest city in America' so he should have been paying more attention to the dealer. I guessed the half-empty bottle of the local rotgut sorta dulled his senses.

I'd bought a small herd in to the railroad for Cap Jones, the old man that ran the ranch I'd worked at since I was fourteen. He was selling out to some Eastern investment company and although they had offered to make me the foreman if I would stay on, I wanted no part of it. Cap and his wife were moving east a bit to live with his daughter in Lincoln so I figured after I took him his money from the sale of his cattle I'd just mosey on.

I came to the King of the Hills to say good-bye to Carla. It was one of the better but still not so nice dance halls around. I was half in love with her even though I knew there was no future in it. She didn't come on duty 'til ten so I dropped back to the poker room to kill the time.

As I watched this cowman getting cleaned out by the dealer using his sly fingers to palm cards off the bottom of the deck, I grew to like his feisty attitude. With a sudden move he stood up and drawing his .44, he slammed it down on the table.

"God damn you cheatin' bastard! I seen ya dealin' off the bottom. Give me back my money or I'll blow yer damn head off."

What he couldn't see, but I could since I was standing behind the dealer, was that the gambler was holding a .41 caliber derringer under the table and didn't look like he would hesitate to use it with no warning. I leaned over and grabbed his wrist, forcing it down. The derringer went off shooting the dealer in the lower leg. Reaching down I grabbed his left hand, turned it forcefully over and banged it on the table. The seven of diamonds, which would have filled his inside straight, was nicely stuck in the dealer's palm.

It was over pretty quick. A couple of teamsters grabbed the gambler and unceremoniously threw him out the door into a pool of muddy water in front of the dance hall. The various participants, with big smiles divided what they felt was their just desserts from the gambler's leavin's and the bowlegged rancher took my arm and led me to the bar.

The grin sliding from his face, he admitted, "Wal, I guess he had me purt near to rights. I was damn near dead there for a minute. You don't look like the kind I could give some money to so I'll just say if ya ever need a job come see me." He took my hand and tried his best to crush it. "I'm Pete Dancer, and damn, it, thanks!"

"I'm Slade Ransom." I told him a bit about myself, twelve hard years herdin' cattle and how I'd started at fourteen after my folks died when our house burnt down under questionable circumstances.

He told me about his ranch, the Circle R, and gave me the directions on how to get there. He added, "My ranch is north a few miles up from Walden, Colorado, just a ways down from the Wyoming border. It's not huge as far as ranches in the area go, but I have four hundred acres of hay along the river and I've spent a lot of money upgrading the herds.

"I've been losing too many cattle to rustlers and I don't think my foreman, Bill Klein, is working hard enough to stop them. I'll be honest with you, twenty years ago I could have chased him off but I'm too old for that now. I need a man like you to kick him off the ranch and take care of my rustling problem. The other thing is he's chasing after my daughter and I'm afraid of what might happen. She's a notional gal and hard to handle.

He said as he shook his head, "Her ma has done her best, but she has a temper, and ... oh, hell. I just can't handle her anymore. She's a red headed filly that's near as wild as the few longhorns I got left. She shore 'nuff needs a man to rein her in, so maybe you're the one that can do it. Man, I'd like to see that. Her name is Candace but everyone calls her Candy."

We talked on for a bit as he told me of his drive of a couple of hundred head of three year olds to the railroad in Walcott and of his plans to upgrade his herds with Herford bulls. He'd taken the train on down to Julesburg to see a local rancher about a couple Hereford bulls.

He gave me a hard glance, and finished with, "I'll be honest with you. This job could be a bit dangerous. I'm steadily losin' cattle, particularly calves. It seems like each of my cows only have half a calf!"

He laughed with a bit of bitterness and walked out of the dance hall. I liked him and thought maybe I'd look him up. I wasn't worried about the rustlers, and it sounded like a fair challenge -- and maybe a bit of fun -- to tame his wild daughter. He said his daughter was "right nice lookin', but I took that with a grain of salt ... not that I was picky or anything.

I found Carla, and after a couple of dances, took her back to her room to say good-bye. As I left the dance hall, I could see her wipe the tears away and start dancin' with a cowboy from Wyoming I'd seen a couple of times. I guessed she'd not pine for me too long. 

I went back to Cap's place to say good-bye to him and to gather my possibles pouch. Cap was real nice about it and gave me a good bonus. He almost felt like my dad and I'm sure he looked at me like a son. We said our so longs and I moseyed on down to Ogallala to figure out what I wanted to do. I got down there late in the afternoon -- Cap's place was on Blue Creek north of the small settlement of Lewellen a few miles -- and had a couple of drinks and ate a steak I figured must have taken the better part of a steer. It was too late to get to the bank and put my money from Cap in a safe place so I put up at the hotel. 

I'd saved up quite a bit and with Cap's bonus I had more money than I'd ever dreamed of, and didn't want to carry it with me. When I said good-bye to Pete, he told me with a pleading voice, "Just get here as damn fast as you can." I figgered I'd work for him for a couple of years and start buying a bull and a few cows and maybe I could build my own ranch to park that red-haired Candy Dancer.

I didn't sleep well listening to some woman complainin' to her man somethin' about promises not kept. I was 'bout ready to go next door and rap this fools head against the wall when they gave up with their damn folderol and went to sleep. I woke early the next mornin' and after stuffin' myself with flapjacks and a gallon of damn fine coffee, I was waitin' in front of the bank for them to open.

I'd tied Dirty Red to the rail with a loose loop of the reins. The red part of his name was from his color and the dirty from his disposition: he felt honor bound to make sure I really knew how to ride each time I threw a leg over the saddle. He wasn't shy about trying to bite me. I was sittin' on the bank's steps, finishin' a smoke, knowin' they'd open in a minute. Three worn-out lookin' men pulled up on better horseflesh than I'd seen in a while, stepped by me to the door and started bangin' on it.

A nervous lookin' clerk opened the door and the men went in. Of a sudden, there was a crash of guns and two of the men came runnin' out only to be cut down at once by both barrels of what sounded like a twelve gauge. The man with a gun had a star on his shirt and saw me as I jumped up trying to figure out what the hell was going on. He saw my movement and, in his excitement, forgetting he'd just fired, swung the barrel over to me and pulled both triggers again. With an oath he threw the empty gun down and swept his hand down for his sidearm.

I hadn't done anything wrong but be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Standing' around jawin' about things didn't seem like a healthy option as long as bullets were flyin'. I grabbed the reins that were lying loose over the rail and jumped aboard Red. He took off with a savage leap, wasting no time crow hopping like he was wont to. We made it about ten yards 'til we were on the verge of swinging around to the alley between the bank and the mercantile. 

I heard a shot from the deputy and felt a hammer blow to my back. The shock of it almost knocked me off my straining horse but I fell flat as another bullet whizzed by so close I swore I could feel it tug at the too long hair at the side of my head. I jerked Red around the corner then took a left at the trash filled back alley and took off for the stockyards down by the river.

The pain was intense but I knew I had to hold it together. It looked like the law had gotten a tip about a bank robbery and had set up an ambush. I'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time but I didn't feel like arguin' with some deputy about how I was an innocent bystander. As I swung through the muddy tracks around the pens, I made for the willow breaks alongside the South Platte. The river was low for February since we had had a very dry winter, and I slid down the low sandy bank into the water making my way upstream. I didn't have a plan; I just knew if I didn't get lost in a hurry my cowboy days were over.

Even with the heavy growth of tress alongside the river I could hear the yelling and pounding hooves of a posse forming, but looking back at the stockyards I couldn't see anyone. If I could lose myself along the river I might get away from them unseen. My more immediate problem was the intense burning in my side that cried for relief.

The bullet had torn through my left side a couple inches over my belt and in about two or three inches. It had gone straight through and I was bleedin' like a stuck pig. The worst of it was from the ragged exit wound in the front but I was able to untie my dusty neckerchief and wad it into the wound.

The thick stand of young willows and a number of large, overgrown cottonwoods screened the river from the town. There were no leaves at this time of year but the willows were so dense I wasn't worried about being seen. There hadn't been anyone around when I went past the stockyards but someone might have seen me. I knew a place about two miles west of town where the north bank was sandy for about a half mile.

I climbed up at that point, making my way the short distance to the railroad tracks. I was fadin' fast but I got Red headed west down the tracks. There was gravel filling the spaces between the ties so he didn't have too hard a time of it. I collapsed on Red and was out of it for a while but he kept plodding on. He stopped and then I woke up puzzled as to why. I saw there was a trestle in front of us bridging a quarter mile wide swale. I recognized it as the drainage for the Ogallala Gulch and eased Red on down the embankment into the dry wash. Looking back I couldn't see or hear anything of a posse.

The Gulch led through the range of hills that were a few miles north of the South Platte. Past the hills another four or five miles was the North Platte. I figured if I could make the far side of the North Platte I could hole up for a day or so. From there it was maybe thirty miles to Cap's Double Cross ranch which was a few miles north of Lewellen in the valley east of Twin Buttes.

Somehow, I made it and holed up in some thickets close enough to the river to get water. I boiled some water and washed the wound as clean as I could. It didn't look good; I knew the dusty scarf hadn't helped. I'd hoped I could hide here for a few days but I knew I needed help. I drank some water and chewed on some stale jerky from my saddlebags then smoked a couple of quirleys. I fell into a deep, troublin' sleep. In the cold gray fog of a winter morning, something had woken me and I was surprised to feel my gun in my hand. I had no idea how it had gotten there. Peeking around a small cottonwood was a small fawn alive with curiosity about this strange apparition.

I pulled myself up by hanging on to the tree and stood there a moment adjusting to the shock of the sudden, intense pain. I didn't bother checking the wound; I knew it was bad. I whistled for Red and standing on a half-rotted log was able to mount him. I don't know how but we made it to the Double Cross and I was able to tell Cap what had happened before I passed out.

I woke up in what I recognized was an old trapper's log cabin we had been using as a line camp about half-way between the ranch and Crescent Lake. The cabin was up a narrow canyon about a half mile from the creek. It was on the side of the creek toward Wild Horse Hill. A small spring yielded only enough fresh water for a patient man. Cap had put a galvanized tub there to catch the trickle of water.

One of Cap's riders got up and walked to the cot I laid on. I'd only ever heard anyone call him Dad, although I don't think he was more than thirty-five. "I see you're awake. D'ya know you been sleepin' for a week? Damn if you didn't almost die on us. Cap's wife should be back this afternoon to check up on ya."

I dozed back off and woke to feel Caps chubby wife, Molly, checking my wound.

"Slade, you sure had me worried. You got a bad infection but I was able to get it cleaned out. You should be able to be up and around in a day or so but you're shore gonna be weak. Cap thinks it'll be a couple weeks afore you can travel. Your wound is okay now but you will have an ugly scar. Guess you won't be so much of a pretty boy anymore." She laughed at her joke and continued, "Have Dad help you up and start walkin' 'round. Cap'll be by tomorrow."

She left and Dad did help me. The first priority seemed to have him help me get out to the outhouse. I felt weak and dizzy, but by the time he'd fixed me some rabbit stew I was feelin' better. It was three or four days afore I could walk on my own.

Cap had stopped by and got me up to date. "Since you had been working here the Sheriff did stop by a couple of times. I tried to tell him you never woulda done anything like robbin' a bank but I think he was still somewhat dubious. We are leaving Sunday for Lincoln, but I'll stop by the jail in Ogallala and talk to him again. The three wanna be bank robbers were all killed. Someone had heard 'em in a bar in Julesburg and the Marshal there wired their plan. That's how they were all set up for the ambush. If they were dumb enough to talk in a bar, they were dumb enough to die.

"I'd say yore best bet would be to rest up for a week or two and then head for the hills. You got any place in mind?"

I started to tell him, but he cut me off. "No, I don't wanna know 'bout it. Just take off and lie low and let's hope it'll blow over. I've enjoyed working with you. Yore sure one of the best hands I've ever had. Good luck to ya boy."

With that, he shook my hand and left. I never saw him again. After another two weeks, I was at last able to travel. Loaded up with the supplies from the line shack (at Cap's invitation) I mounted Dirty Red to try to find my way to Pete Dancer's Circle R, and his daughter, the girl with the curious name of Candy Dancer. I could see already that Candy Slade would be a fine upgrade for her name. 

When I'd talked to Pete in Julesburg, he had suggested that the best way to come was to Fort Collins and up the Cache la Poudre River and on over Cameron Pass. He said from the pass to head north and pick up the headwaters of the Canadian River, one of the tributaries of the North Platte. This river provided drainage for the Medicine Bow Mountains and following it down stream would take me some miles north of Walden and right to the ranch.

I was still weak and tired so I took it slow. Wanting to stay away from populated areas, I made it down to the edge of the foothills to LaPorte, just northwest of Fort Collins. I rested there for weeks to make sure my side was completely healed and gathered information about the route and what I might run into. I'd seen no sign of anyone lookin' for me.

At a mercantile, the owner told me, after giving me a good looking over, "Wal, I'd get me a good sheepskin coat, several pair of gloves and a good slicker. Even though it's early April, Cameron Pass is over ten thousand feet and gets colder than hell at night all year 'round. You'll get snow at the higher elevations on into June and sometimes July."

I took the merchant's advice and headed up the canyon of the Cache La Poudre. As I wound my way along the river, I remembered the story the broken down old man that worked as a swamper at one of the bars in LaPorte told me one night after I bought him a drink.

"That there river's name means 'Hiding Place of Powder'. The story I got from an ol' mountain man I knew years ago was that some French fur trappers way back when were caught in a nasty blizzard. To lighten their load, they buried large amounts of gunpowder in a hiding place along the banks of the river. Now that grizzled old man done tol' me that poudre meant powder and cache did mean a hiding place. So I figger it did make some sense."

What I hadn't expecting was the sheer beauty of the river gorge. The trees were leafing out with light shades of green and the view up the canyon was spectacular. Red and I took it at an easy pace and enjoyed the trip. I shot a turkey and found the eating quite tasty for a couple of days. 

About half the way up to the pass -- we must have been somewhere around eight thousand foot high -- it started raining. It was mostly a cold misty drizzle at first but I knew what could happen in the mountains. I started looking for a place to wait it out. If it was raining down here that it would be snowing hard up at the pass. I saw a heavy stand of lodge pole pines on the other side of the river and up about a quarter mile. I'd just forded at a shallow, rocky spot when the wind came up and the rain came in heavy slashing waves. 

My new, heavy sheepskin coat in a pack behind the saddle. I had on a medium weight coat and shirt and a full-length union suit on under everything. The coat and shirt were both heavy wool. I'd been comfortable with a pair of leather riding gloves on but the rain had saturated my coat in minutes and I could feel the rain coming down the back of my neck with each strong gust of wind. The cold was setting into my bones and my wound was starting to ache with a shocking fierceness.

I noticed the pines were separated from the rocky wall by a narrow three foot width and I looked for a suitable place to hole up. I found not so much as a cave, but a rounded indentation setting back from the face of the cliff wall about a dozen feet. It looked like the cutout had been formed by thousands of years of floods eating into the cliff. The river made a bend here and I knew that in the mountains a heavy flash flood could tumble huge rocks down the river like pebbles.

I slid off Dirty Red and pulled him in the cave. There were several rock circles for fires and a large stack of dead branches on the far side of the cave. There was also a large pile of dried grass for feed so this place was used regularly. 


Slowly but Surely Ch. 01



I got a fire started and then took the saddle off and hung the horse's blanket over a rock to dry. Using a handful of the grass, I wiped Red down, and then led him to a pool of water at the cave's entrance where a large depression in the rock floor had filled with rainwater. He wasn't going anywhere so I took the bridle off and gave him a fair pile of grass. I took off my wet clothes and put them on rocks to dry. I stood by the fire until I warmed up then put on my only clean set of clothes. I put on a pot of coffee and started some bacon and beans. The dense stand of lodge poles kept most of the wind and rain out so I was actually more than comfortable.

Using my new sheepskin coat as a pillow and replenishing the fire several times I slept well and the ache in my side gradually let up. I woke the next morning to find the heavy rain had slowed to a light mist but the roar from the river didn't sound good. It was colder than a witch's tit so I put on my new coat and walked out to see the bad news. The river was a seething cauldron and was out of its banks. The area I was on was pinched in by the river at each end so I wasn't going anywhere for a day or so.

The river slowly settled throughout the day and the next morning came with a warm breeze and more seasonal weather. Okay, it was a warm, sunny morning in April and it looked like it would be this way for a couple of days. My dilemma now was if I left right away, I was going to be making some dangerous fords but if I waited, the river was sure to rise as the snow started melting at the higher elevations. I took the chance and pushed hard, taking chances but nothing foolish. Red was well rested so we did okay. 

We made the pass two days later and struggled through drifts of snow three to four foot deep. I ignored the Michigan River on the other side of the pass and went straight north looking for the Canadian. We found it later that day, deciding what looked like a small creek was really the river. I found out later that the Canadian ran into the Michigan north of Walden, joinin', at some point, the North Platte. The Canadian was supposed to save me a half days travel and wasn't so steep, so I was happy. Late the next afternoon I saw what must be the ranch down on the valley floor. I'd seen the drab buildings of Walden a hour earlier. 

I saw a flash of water in a heavy stand of aspens about a hundred feet off the valley floor and maybe four or five miles from the ranch. As I got closer, I could see a waterfall, probably from a creek or spring which splashed over a rock wall about twelve feet above the pool. I knew the water would be cold but I wanted to clean up before I went to the ranch. Not that I wanted to impress the young lady, but well ... one never knew.



Slowly but Surely Ch. 02



Chapter Two – The Waterfall

You're just what I wanted you're just what I needed. You're my every dream come true.

 Slowly but Surely

I had been following the Canadian River as it meandered down the slope, at times breaking into several streams that would wander around the valley floor and then come back together. We were step by step going down toward the valley floor and there were frequent small rapids. The water cascaded over the rocks with the warm spring sun gracing the splashing droplets with moments of brilliance before they fell.

Since I had picked up the Canadian near its headwaters the timber had been thinning as we got to lower elevations. The grass was a mix of last summer's heavy dry stuff joined with the light emerald green of the new grass that added color to the scene. I could see a mix of sagebrush, blue gramma and patches of Indian grass in the basin below. Along the river, it was the waist high bluestem that Dirty Red seemed to like a lot.

I was on the high side of the river about a half mile from the waterfall and pond. After passing through a stand of aspens I saw a small pinto mare. She had the Medicine Hat coloration: the better part white with, for this horse, black around the flanks and eyes. The mare was small, around thirteen hands. Red's sixteen-and-a-half hands dwarfed her. The mare's reins were dragging in the mud and grass. Someone had slipped the bit so she was able to graze.

Taking her reins I back trailed her. She must have strayed from the pond while seeking the tender bits of new grass. I wasn't paying too much attention, but was focusing on the mare's tracks when I was startled by a loud scream. Looking up with a start gave me an attractive but unexpected sight: a tall, somewhat slender girl standing almost waist deep in the pond havin' a confusing time trying to decide what to cover with her arms and what to leave open for my viewing pleasure. She was doing either a miserable or wonderful job depending on which of our viewpoints prevailed. Her clothes were hangin' on a bush beside the pond.

Being ever the gentleman, at least that's what my mom insisted on, I turned around. Calling back over my shoulder, I asked, "You all right, ma'am?"

There followed a loud shriek, "Just go away! Everyone knows to stay away when I ride up here. My pa is gonna kill ya."

Even though I'd never been to Colorado before, she still expected me to know her bathing habits. Sure. I started idling away on Red with the Pinto in tow. After about ten yards I heard another wailin' cry.

"Wait, don't go."

I took that as meaning she didn't want me to go after all, so I turned around and started back. She had jumped out of the pool and was standing behind a bush struggling to pull her jeans up over her wet legs. Hell, even I knew that was hard to do.

"No, damn you, go away but leave my horse behind. Now turn around."

Okay, I could take a hint. I did have some pride, so I thought I should make a point. "Now ma'am, I did go to considerable trouble to run down yore mare for you. Least little thing you could do would be to say thanks."

She wasn't impressed with my logic. "You arrogant damned fool, just leave my horse and get the hell away from here."

With a "cluck" from me, Dirty Red started forward again pulling the pinto. 

"Wait."

Sure, I could do that, I was known far and wide for my patience.

"Thank you for bringing Missy back and I … I'm sorry for yelling at you."

She didn't sound all that sincere but I wasn't too proud. Dropping the reins of the mare, Red and I cantered back toward the aspens. I off saddled to fix some coffee and roll another smoke. I was pleased to see her look back a couple of times. It wasn't clear whether she was interested in me or whether she was tryin' to decide if she was in range for taking a potshot at me. Well, this sure looked like it was going to be an interesting job!

After I finished my coffee and put out the fire I rode back down to the pond to make camp for the night. It was getting dark so I figured I'd eat some bacon and leftover cornbread and call it an early night. Being in no hurry to freeze I decided to face the cold water for a bath and shave in the morning. I did get some water from where the little creek leaped from place to place and made its way down the rocky wall and fell the last four feet into the pond. Before I made the coffee I took a long drink from the pot and like to froze my throat – that water was cold. Most of the stream of water must be snowmelt.

It took me a while to fall asleep and when I did it was with the image of what must have been Candace Dancer standing deep enough in the water that I never did see her legs. What I had seen was pert near enough to convince me I was in love. Yeah, I know. I fell in love with 'bout every gal I saw but this one was special. Her hair was long and the wet strands twisted around and plastered to her body, nigh on down to her narrow waist. 

Her high breasts stood out as if she was proud of them; which, of course, she had good reason to be. They weren't so large but I couldn't imagine anything lookin' better. She was a pretty filly. The two thousand three hundred and fifty nine freckles didn't mar that beauty a bit and even made her small nose kinda cute. I wasn't even counting some assumed freckles on her legs and back, which good fortune of observing had been denied me … so far.

Some might wonder how I saw all that with a couple of glimpses. Like all cowhands, I was trained to be observant. When we are trying to throw a lasso over a certain horse or cow, we'd best get the right one. 

At first light I woke up feelin' refreshed. I fixed some breakfast from my diminishing supplies, then I heated some water and shaved. Not wanting to show up at the Circle R smellin' like a horse so I knew I had to bite the bullet and jump in the pool. I figured that the further I got away from that snowmelt flowing into the pool, the better off I'd be. Sucking it up I jumped in and … damn, it was warm. Lookin' closer I found there was a hot spring on the side of the pool. 

It flowed out of the rock wall a couple feet above the pool and it was warm on that side of the pool and cold on the other. It must all be warm in the summer and during the winter before the snowmelt. I washed all my dirty clothes, well all my clothes, and hung them on branches to dry. I fooled around in the water 'til my skin puckered right up. After a light lunch I headed on over to the ranch; I guessed it would take an hour or so to get there.

Down on the valley floor, that part of Colorado they called North Park, I stopped and looked around. There were mountains to the east, the Medicine Bows and they curled around to the north. Straight East was Shipman Mountain and to the west was Flattop and Bear Mountains and Mt. Zirkel. I knew this from talkin' to people in LaPorte before I pulled freight. To the south was pretty open with more mountains in the distance. I could see winter was going to be somethin' here.

What I liked best was the water all over the place just meanderin' up the valley. There were the North Platte, Canadian, and Michigan rivers and more creeks than I could count. There would be a lot of hay grown in the rich bottomlands. That would make feedin' the cattle easier during the winter. There was more summer range up in the mountains than could be used. I started wonderin' if this might be the place I would settle down in. Thinkin' on it, I looked back and saw my ranch buildings just sort of build themselves tucked in under that hot springs. It looked damned good to me.

I already had my brand, a square with SR on it. The Box SR was registered in Nebraska and I'd get it done in Colorado as soon as I could. That's the brand I had on Dirty Red and about a hundred head of cattle I'd left behind on a friends ranch. I had a fair amount of money, so I wanted to get Pete to pay me part of my salary in calves. As they grew, I'd sell off the steers and borrow Pete's bulls for the girls - at least 'til I took my ranch on full time and then I'd need my own bulls. Ridin' toward the Circle R headquarters, it looked like Pete had all but about ten percent of his herd in Herefords – the rest were longhorns. 

I ran into him a ways before I got to the ranch headquarters. We sat down on a sunny rock and smoked as we talked. I told him about my trip and made sure he heard my version of what had happened at the pond.

Pete commented, "Wal, she didn't say nothin' but I'll keep this in mind if she does. I've told her over and over not to go up there. Most of the guys around this area wouldn't take advantage of her, but there are always a few strangers around. And that's not counting the jokers stealin' our cattle. I've caught my foreman lookin' after her a couple times when she's taken off in that direction. Damned if I didn't have to send him off in the opposite direction on some chore or t'other.

"If it comes up I'll jump all over her. Speakin' of Klein, I know I said you'd have to pay him off but I hate to ask you to do it. Just watch out for him. He's a sneaky, mean sum bitch. He likes to trip a guy and then kick him in the head. He killed a guy up in Walcott last year when we took some cattle up. After supper, I'll tell everyone about the change and introduce you. I'm sure the fireworks will start then."

"What about the crew?" I asked. 

"Wal, I've got the foreman and eight guys plus a cook that all work full time. The cook also does repairs around the yard and buildings, fixin' gates and stuff like that. During the summer, I take on three, four more men, whatever I can find. There's two guys, Packrat and KC that'll probably go with Klein. 

"One thing I want to change. I've come to think the foreman shouldn't live and eat with the men. I want you to stay in the house; there's a room I bin storin' stuff in that you can use. It's right next to the office and the only door is on the outside of the house. You can eat with me and we can do our plannin' after dinner. Just get settled in this afternoon and I'll grab you when our cook, Gramps, serves dessert. Wear some old clothes, ha ha!"

I guess he thought that was funny. Actually it was, kinda. We mounted up and rode in to the ranch. Pete showed me my room and I spent a couple of hours moving the stored stuff out and some furniture in. In between moving things I grabbed Gramps to help me sweep it out and then mop it.

The cook turned out to be one of the original ranch hands from when Pete had moved out from Kansas with a herd twenty years before. A horse fell on his leg and broke it so it was painful for him to ride. He half raised Candy (and gave her the nickname), teaching her to ride a horse and pretend she was a cowboy. He loved the family and had nowhere else to go so Pete took care of him. He walked with a limp but got around okay.

He was a fun old man and had me smilin' while we were working on the cleanup. "You met Candy yet?"

I didn't want to explain so I nodded no.

"She's a real firecracker, I'd say. Most of the time she's runnin' around explodin' like one, anyhow. Say, she's got a temper. Don't get her mad at you and everything will be okay."

Well, I was sure she was already way past mad at me. "I guess she has lots of beaus?"

"Wal, yes and no. She doesn't seem to pine after any particular fellow but at the dances she's a whirlin' deverish, dancin' with all the young studs, if you know what I mean?"

Unfortunately, I knew just what he meant. "When's the next dance?"

"From this month through August it's at the school house on the last Sattiday of each month. Once in a while during the winter iff'n the weather's okay. Special occasions such as the Fourth of July and weddin's and such. A friend of mine helps me with the music." He laughed, "At least, some call it that."

He was a good man that could help me a lot. The room turned out nice. Aside from the door, it had a large window looking out the back of the house towards the barns and corrals. I cleaned up for dinner and walked around while I was waiting. 

It seemed like a well run ranch. There was none of the junk laying around that seems to accumulate on a ranch, like old wagons that never get fixed, saddles hanging on the corral post, past falling apart, and trash laying around the yard. Everything I could see appeared to be well maintained. The gates looked okay and there were no broken fence posts or such. It came across as what it was, a serious, profitable ranch. It was a working ranch but still showed a woman's touch in the flowerbeds around the front of the house and the vegetable garden sprawled along the creek. I'd bet that Gramps got recruited for working in the garden all summer long.

Pete had asked me to come in the house when the cook rang the triangle hanging outside the cook shack/dining room for the hands. I walked over and went through the kitchen door. Candy looked up from the stove, took one look at me and started a nice pretty blush that at once turned to an angry red. She glanced through the dining room door where a woman, I assumed her mom, was setting the table. She grabbed my sleeve and dragged me into the large walk-in pantry.

She hissed at me, "What are you doing here? I'll tell dad how you snuck up and spied on me. If you want a handout, go over to the cook shack."

I smiled at her, nicely, and shaking her hand, said, "I'm Slade Ransom, the new foreman for the Circle R. I'm sure we will get on famously." With that, I left her with her jaw hanging down and walked into the dining room to introduce myself.

The woman I'd seen through the door looked just like Candy but twenty or so years older, maybe just shy of forty. She was a bit shorter and a little thicker around the waist, but she was every bit as handsome as her daughter was and was all woman. Her red hair was up in a bun, but promised to splay on a pillow just as lovely as Candy's would. 

"Hi, I'm Slade Ransom, and as attractive as you are you must be Candace's mother." I didn't tell her I was the new foreman; I thought she would know that.

"Aw, go on with you. You don't look Irish, but you for sure must have kissed the blarney stone." She laughed at that and in a more serious mien, continued, "I'm glad you're here. Pete needs some help and says you are a good man with good references."

I hadn't known he had talked to Cap. There were some things I hoped Cap hadn't told them. I'd been with Cap for twelve years, and six years ago, when I was twenty, I'd married a local girl. We were young, she was short of seventeen, and a year later, she died in childbirth. The daughter that never grew up died with her. 

It left me pretty broken up and when spring rolled around I talked to Cap, then took the summer off and went up into the mountains of Montana and on up into Canada. There were some things I'd been better off not doing, and when I came back in September, I was fast with a gun and skillful at cards. Surprisin' to me I'd learned to love the high lonesome places and spendin' time alone. I was quiet for the next year but worked hard and after that put on a veneer of bonhomie that I didn't have. Sure, I bought drinks for the guys and flirted with the girls but no one other than Cap and his wife got to know me much at all.

I got to need some company and started with Carla but I knew it wasn't real. The thing was, I liked women. I liked to be around them, I liked to look at them. Underneath it all I knew no one could ever replace Jennie. Damn, I couldn't much remember what she looked like anymore. Still, I had this reserved persona that no one saw. It was one that always thought things through, kinda watching myself from the outside and keeping the real me at arm's length so I wouldn't get hurt like I had been.

As I thought about it, I didn't think Cap would tell anyone anything about me that wasn't work related. Cap came in then and we sat down to dinner. Pete's wife, Glenna, seemed to want to get to know me right away. Without being too forward, she probed with soft questions and I was surprised how much I told her. Candy seemed to be avoiding looking at or talking to me. Pete, of course, knew the reason but Glenna didn't. 

It came out of left field, but thinking about it later, it made sense. Candy asked, "Mister Ransom, I was noticing your horse. It seems like a fine animal – but why Dirty Red? That seems like an awful name for such a good looking horse."

Mister Ransom? Damn, I don't think I'd ever been called that. I started to answer that I'd noticed her horse too, right after I tripped over it. Maybe I would have of said that out of pure meanness, but with her folks there I thought I'd better play it straight. "Well, ma'am, Red's a mighty fine horse. I raised him from a foal and no one else has ever ridden him. He's fast and has great stamina. If I let him pick his pace, he can go all day. The Red is obvious if you look at him. The Dirty is his disposition. Pretty much every time I mount he makes sure I know that he's the boss.

"He'll do his best to throw me off, bite my arm, or just be plain ornery. Then he settles down and there's not a better horse for working cattle. He's not like that all the time. When the weather is bad or he senses it's important to behave, he is a perfect gentleman. I have to say that most of the time he's more of a gentleman that I am," I added with a laugh.

Candy, very primly, added, "I'm sure I don't doubt that. By the way, I thought Bill was the foreman."

Pete grinned as he was standing up. "Wal, we'd better get to work. Bill was the foreman. Slade is going to give him his walkin' papers."

"Oh, I do want to see that," Candy added sounding a bit snide.

I hated to leave. The fried chicken, potatoes and the huge bowl of gravy were askin' me to eat more but everyone else was on their way out the door.

We walked into the cook shack just as the boys were finishing an apple cobbler. Pete grabbed an empty coffee cup and banged on the table. "I'm gonna make this short and sweet. We've been losing too many beeves to rustlers and that's led me to make some changes. This here is Slade Ransom, and as of right now he is the new foreman."

I stood up, not speaking but looking at each of the men, measuring them. From Pete's previous description, I recognized Bill Klein. He was of medium height with a wide upper torso. He was not so much handsome in the normal way – his face was too rugged and his oft broken nose lent him irregular features. He was dressed in black with a black sombrero with a silver band. His black handled Colt .44 was visible under the skirt of his jacket. His nose was saber sharp and his sweeping black mustache and red-flecked eyes lent him an air of evil incarnate.

I started to speak, but Klein jumped up, shoutin', "What the hell is this? No goddamn cowboy is going to take my place! I'm gonna break yore back."

He started to lunge across the table when Gramps slammed a huge skillet down with a bang, bringing a hush to the room and drawing all attention to him. "Git the hell out of my eatin' place. You wanna fight, take it outdoors."

That was fine by me; I liked to eat and didn't want the cook mad at me. I was closest to the door and started down the steps, knowin' what was goin' to happen. I got set for it and timed it just so. Klein was behind me and had started his dive, figurin' to end the fight quick. I turned around as fast as I could and caught him in mid-air, tossing him over my shoulder. He landed on his back with the air whooshing out of his lungs. I fell on his beer gut with my knees to finish the job. 

I straddled him and grabbed his hat, which had fallen off. With the added heft of the silver band, I, with a slow but heavy sweep of my arm, hit him on one side the face and then the other. After a few strokes, I felt someone tugging at me and looked up to see Candy.




Slowly but Surely Ch. 02



"You brute, leave the poor man alone."

Her dad came over and dragged her off and I continued my business. I had no sympathy for him. I knew he would have killed me if he'd had the chace. After a few more swipes, I heard him whimpering. I got up and lifted him to his feet then shook him a couple of times to make sure he was listenin'. 

Pete had earlier given me an envelope with Klein's severance pay in it. I tucked it into his shirt pocket, and told him harshly, "Git over to the bunkhouse and grab yore stuff. Leave here and if I see you again I'll shoot on sight."

I threw him towards the bunkhouse and he fell heavily. I watched him a minute as he struggled to his feet and staggered towards his destination. Satisfied, I turned and began walking back towards the rest of the men. I saw a startled look on Pete's face and stepped sideways as I turned. Then I crouched and drew my sidearm, firing as it came level. I didn't want to kill Klein and the bullet caught his hand just as he got it on the handle of his pistol.

I looked over at Pete's wife and said, "Miz Glenna, could you fix his hand up so he can ride out of here?"

Turing towards the rest of the riders, I asked, "Anyone else want their time?"

Two of them stepped up and Pete took them to his office to give them their pay. They were the two he had mentioned. I turned back to the other men, "In spite of what you just saw I'm an easy goin' man. Do your work and we'll get along fine. We're shorthanded now, so if you know anyone, have them come see me. I'll be comin' around and talkin' to each of you. Today, hang around the ranch and let's get everything ship shape for the summer. Check the shoes for all the horses in the remuda and check all the riggin', saddles, bridles, and such, and all yore personal gear."

With that, I turned back to the house, wanting to talk to Pete. Candy was standing in front of the house, lookin' might pretty with her angry red face.

"I hate you! You are crude and mean. I want you to leave the ranch immediately."

I tipped my hat, smiled gently, and said, "Yes, ma'am. I heard what you said." 

I stepped around her and went on to the office. I'd heard her, but Pete was the boss. I got there just as the two men were walking away. They gave me a sneer as they went by, but a sneer never hurt anyone. I walked into Pete's office, sat down and accepted a cigar after he offered it. I leaned back, enjoying the rich, unaccustomed flavor, and listened.

"Slade that was a mighty fine job. Smooth as all get-out. Shame it got as far as shootin', but he got what he asked for. I think you made a mistake by not killin' him. He's a dangerous man and he's the grudge bearing kind."

I nodded but that was already in the past. "What are your plans for the cattle this year? How many head do you have anyway?"

"I've got a tad over two thousand head. We turn the bulls loose in August each year and the calves are droppin' now. We have a short growin' season, the better part in June and July, when the grass is the best. That gives the momma cows plenty of nourishment while the calves are feedin' and in late July we brand the new calves."

With a grimace, he continued, "This year I want to gather all I can of the steers that are three and older. We'll also pick out as many of the older cows as we can. We've been losing too many cattle to rustlers and I want to get money in the bank up in Laramie. You'll head out for Walcott the first part of August. It's right at a hundred miles, but we'll take it easy, maybe ten to twelve days. I want them as fat as possible when we sell them.

I thought about it for a minute and came back with, "Okay, I'll keep two men out at night keeping an eye on things and we will go round during the days takin' care of the cattle, making sure the calving goes okay and taking care of predators."

"Sound good. Have Gramps take the cook wagon into Walden and have the blacksmith check it out. Have him stock up with staples for the drive. We get most of the fresh stuff from our garden."

Two weeks later, it was time for the first dance. I was lookin' forward to it. Originally, I'd thought about takin' Candy, but that didn't seem like a plan anymore. I rode Red alongside Pete's wagon with his wife and Candy on the seat with him. Candy was a vision; I'll say that for her. Problem was that a block of ice would warm me up more than she would. 

We got there just as Gramps and another older cowboy started tuning up. Gramps had a banged up but serviceable concertina and his partner a fiddle. Glenna took me around, introducing me and I found myself face to face with the loveliest woman I'd ever seen. She was a trifle short, a trifle voluptuous – though that was all good. She had a sweet face with a trace of baby fat still on it and her head was enveloped in a misty cloud of pale yellow, almost white hair. If anyone could ever replace Jennie, I knew this was the one. I was startled out of my reverie as the vision spoke.

Showing a pretty blush, she said, "My, my, Mister Slade. Do you always stare at the ladies when you meet them?"



Slowly but Surely Ch. 03



Chapter Three – Trail Drive

The vision in front of me continued, as she put her dainty hand out so shake mine. "I'm Roxie Zell."

I woke up from whatever trance I'd been in. "A lovely name for a lovely lady. I'm Slade Ransom from Nebraska. If I'd known how beautiful the women were here I expect I would have moved to Colorado much sooner."

"My, and gallant too."

Somehow, we wound up on the dance floor. She was shorter than Candy but had more curves in more places; at least as far as I could tell from what I felt as we bumped into each other on this turn or that. I'd always been a fair to middlin' dancer and she was somewhat better than I was so we danced well together. We chatted, getting to know each other, and before we parted, she agreed to a couple more dances that night and a ride the next afternoon.

I caught a couple of glimpses of Candy while we were dancin' and she looked a bit put out. I guessed she was happiest if no one liked me, including herself. She did stop by later and hint at a dance and seemed miffed when I told her I had promised Roxie the next one. A couple of times during the evening I caught her staring at me but when I did, she gave a haughty toss of her fiery red hair and looked away.

One strange thing happened about an hour before we left. With no expression on his face, Pete led me over to introduce me to another rancher. Dark and somber looking, he was a man who, once seen, stuck in your memory a long time. He wasn't that big but he gave a sense of being large. He wasn't handsome in the way most often considered: his features were too perfect, in the manner of a beautiful woman. Yet, he by no means was effeminate. He exuded an aura of power and ruthlessness.

"Slade, this is Colin MacPherson, he owns a large spread down at the south end of the basin. Colin, this is Slade Ransom, my new foreman."

"What happened to Klein?"

I answered, "He wasn't doing a good job of cuttin' down the rustlin'. I aim to be more aggressive."

"That could be a dangerous task, Mr. Ransom."

Maybe a little too harsh I replied, "No, I don't think you understand. Stealin' cows is much more dangerous. I noticed there were large numbers of cottonwoods along the rivers with branches big enough to decorate with thieves!"

Colin answered me back, "Maybe so. Hey, is that your large roan horse outside? He's one I'd like to have. I can make it worth your while to sell him."

"I reckon that horse ain't for sale, Mr. MacPherson."

"I'll give you five double eagles for him. Of course, I don't need your cheap saddle and gear."

With a flat voice, I replied, "Even if he would allow it, I'd never let you ride him for ten times that. Red is like family to me."

With a smirk, he came back, "Yeah, now that you mentioned it there is a close resemblance."

Pete had his hand on my shoulder and felt me tense up. He squeezed my shoulder and I backed off, offering MacPherson a spare nod before I walked away with Pete. This was neither the time nor place to continue our 'discussion'.

Taking my arm, Pete said, "Let's go outside."

We walked over to his wagon and sat on the back. He handed me a flask and I took a healthy swallow. Feelin' the burn make its way down my throat, I gasped, "Who the hell was that?"

"Colin moved in about five years ago. He bought out a couple of the ranchers and forced several others out. He's been goin' round trying to buy everyone's place at a low price. Things happen to holdouts. I saw you dancin' with Roxie. Last fall someone set fire to a number of the stacks of hay at her dad's ranch. I had to loan them some to make it through the winter. Things like that seem to happen around the basin all too frequently. It don't make sense that rustlers would waste time on things like that."

Thinkin' about what he'd said, I responded, "What's he tryin' to do, get the whole basin."

"Yeah, that's just what he's graspin' for."

"Damn, how big is this area, it must be purt' near a million acres?"

Pete replied, "Yeah, I reckon so. Maybe even more. MacPherson's got the south end of the park all the way across in front of the Rabbit Ears Mountains and he's working his way north. He's got money and he's a ruthless bastard."

"Well, he sure didn't get on my good side."

We went back inside and I rounded Roxie up for a couple more dances before we left. Damn, I was getting' to like this girl a lot. I even got a new hand out of it. Roxie was nineteen and her brother, Bud was seventeen and wanted to work for someone other than his dad for a while. Roxie gave me the how and when for the ride the next day, Sunday. 

The ride home was quiet, with an occasional sleepy murmur from Candy or Glenna. I took care of the wagon for Pete, and then went on to bed.

I slept late the next morning and woke up to a warm summerlike day. The Dancers had gone into Walden for church, which left me on my own. I had some coffee and a slab of leftover apple pie for breakfast. After taking my time getting ready, Red and I lazed our way over to the Zell's ranch. While one of the hands was getting Roxie's horse ready, I had more coffee on their front porch with Clem Zell. That's how he was introduced to me but I understood his name was Clement.

He was a short stocky man with a brushy brown mustache, stained like his fingers from his incessant smoking. Looking at his hands was 'bout enough to make me give up my quirleys. He seemed nice enough, kinda laid back with a sharp wit. He didn't seem worried that I was taking his daughter up towards the hills.

Roxie rode up from the corral on a large dark blue or black mare. I couldn't be sure of the color because it kept changing as the light reflected off it. We cantered west towards the North Platte. The riverbank was grassy and she led me to a flat place under a large willow. It was a beautiful spot for the picnic lunch she had packed. 

I spread a blanket out that she had brought with her and put the basket on it. Roxie wanted to walk so we took off upstream. It was a pretty place with the sun-speckled river laughin' its way downstream over the rocks, the snow covered peaks on all four sides of the valley and the open view of the entire North Park. The grass and the foliage from the cottonwood and willow trees were a bright emerald green. Standing next to a deep pool in a bend of the river, I could see several large brown trout. I'd have to come back here alone sometime – although it was quite pleasant being there with Roxie.

We, with me doing most of the work, polished off the lunch of fried chicken and fresh bread with some raspberry preserves. After I saddled the horses for the ride back, Roxie leaned over and gave me a warm kiss as I helped her mount. It was nice but it promised more for the future than it delivered now. I had dinner with her family and rode back to the Circle R with warm thoughts of Roxie in my mind and her brother Bud by my side.

Bud was a good-looking kid with curly brown hair and a cowlick hanging down over his forehead. He was more knowledgeable that I would have expected about the affairs of the basin and ranching in general for someone his age.

As we went into June, the weather continued to warm and Pete had a great calf crop. It was my job to see that he kept them. I did a lot of riding the range getting familiar with it and keeping my eyes open trying to understand where various signs of travel came from and went to. There were a lot more people going from place to place than I would have expected … which worried me a lot.

We'd pulled out the stuff we wanted to ship and moved it to a bench the other side of Shipman Mountain. We took the herd up Sand Creek and over Ute Pass to get there. The South Fork of La Guarde Creek kept the grass well watered and made it excellent grazing. The area was around a mile wide and ten or so miles long. After we drove this herd to market, we'd move the rest of the cattle up here for a month to fatten up. I had thirteen guys in the crew but left three around the ranch to watch over things. They also took care of the horses that were in a large fenced area about a half-mile from the ranch.

For the trail drive, I'd take the five men on the bench, plus Bud and Gramps. Unless we ran into trouble, we should do okay.

I was getting to know the crew, and besides Bud, we had hired four other riders – three of them for the normal summer work plus to help with the drive to Walcott. They were a good group, close and good-humored. The three that had left, Klein, and his two buddies, Packrat and KC, were the ones that had kept the Circle R from being a first rate crew. The men both worked and played hard. 

One Saturday I'd gone with Bud to get some supplies. We took the wagon and I parked it behind the store. We went in and gave the owner, Jerry Edwards, the list. I'd met Jerry a couple of times. He was young to have a store, about thirty, and was married with two small boys. They lived in a nice, but small house at the edge of town.

I asked him, "You have any of the cigars Pete smokes?"

"Naw, I'm out 'til next week. Ken over at the saloon keeps the same brand of smokes. He buys by the carton so I'm sure he'll loan you a box."

I looked at Bud, "Can you go over and see if you can get some?"

He ran off and I helped Jerry load the wagon. We finished and there was no sign of Bud. I eased over to Ken's place and heard some yellin' as I got close. The doors were open so I could see Bud was cornered by KC and Packrat had Bud cornered up against the bar. One was on each side and one would shove him, then the other when he turned. I went over and pulled them off Bud. I asked him with a soft voice what was happening.

"Wal, I came over like you said and these two yahoos started runnin' off at the mouth."

"Bud, is there a fight here?"

"Damn right, but I can't take on both of them."

"Which one do you want?"

"I'll take KC. He was sayin' things about Roxie."

"KC, you'd better damn well hope that Bud kick's your ass. If there is anything left of you I'm gonna tear it apart and stomp on it. Packrat, you come with me. If you wanna fight Bud after he finishes with KC, you can have yore turn."

I steered Bud and the two former Circle R riders out of the bar. I still had to talk Ken out of the cigars and I didn't want to see his place torn up. I looked at the two men. KC had a reputation for being a fighter but I could see he had been spendin' more time leanin' on a bar than ridin' a horse. I'd seen Bud without a shirt and he was a lot tougher than he looked with his boyish face. He had wide shoulders and long ropy muscles, and had the advantage of workin' hard every day.

KC got one good shot at Bud's head then Bud knocked him ass over teakettle and never let him up. When it was over, Bud and I looked at each other and I started laughin'. He looked mad at me for a minute then he came out with a big grin. I was sure that was his first real fight. Far as I was concerned, he was a man now, a man that looked like he'd be sportin' a first-rate shiner.

I put my arm around his shoulder and shoved him toward the bar. "Go get them damned cigars. I'll pick you up on the way out of town. Tell Ken I said to stand you a shot." From the sour look on his face when I stopped the wagon, I guessed he'd had his first drink also.

That Saturday was the next dance. I picked up Roxie in one of Pete's wagons and drove on in to Walden. Bud trailed along beside us, wearing his black eye like a badge of courage. The dance was great but for one thing. I'd left Roxie with two of the other girls and went out to get some fresh air and have a smoke. It did give me a chance to talk to a couple of the other ranchers about how big of a problem it was with the rustlin'. We agreed that we needed some joint action.

When I went back in, I looked around for Roxie. At last, I saw her in the corner of the schoolhouse – dancin' with Colin MacPherson. They were a lot closer together than I liked. I didn't say anything, thinkin' maybe he was just being aggressive with her. Later we danced a couple of numbers before we left.

We were quiet on the way back to her place. Neither of us said anything about Colin. But when I kissed her goodnight I felt like everything was okay. She kissed me in such a way it started a fire that I had a hard time dampin'. I was so distracted by her kisses I didn't remember the trip back to the Circle R.

When I got back, the place was in an uproar. While everyone had been at the dance or with one or the other of the cattle herds, someone had broken a long section of the fence where Pete kept his horse herd. They had choused the horses in all directions. It didn't look like any were stolen but it took a couple of days to round them up. Of course, my first thought was that it was MacPherson with his pushin' ways.

The next few weeks flew by. I was busy ridin' from place to place makin' sure the work was progressin' okay. The herd on the summer range up in Shipman Park was puttin' good weight on which should bring a good price for the cattle at the railroad. Gramps had his wagon ready to go with all the supplies we would need.

Every chance I had I made it over to see Roxie and we were progressin' nicely. I loved her; knew she was the one for me. I was sure she loved me back. She sure seemed to show it! We were able to make it to our picnic spot only a couple of times. But those two times were enough to curl my hair. It was excitin' to know I could look forward to a real lovin' wife. We were talkin' about getting' hitched around the first of September.

After all the plannin' we were able to start the drive. Gramps and Bud took off straight up the valley and I went up to where the herd was waitin'. The cook wagon would setup where we planned the first nights stop. We had to bring the cattle back the same way we took them. We would bring them from the La Guarde Creek, back over Ute Pass and then north, swingin' above the sand hills, after we got to the valley floor.

Bud had showed a flair for workin' with horses so I made him the wrangler for the drive. He drove the remuda while Gramps took the wagon. The chuck wagon was a four wheel, springless wagon with a large 'chuck box' on the back. It had shelves and drawers for the cookin' equipment. Coverin' it was a hinged lid that swung down and with a couple of legs made a large worktable. Gramps had an oversized dishpan he called the 'wreck' pan that was always under the wagon during mealtimes. The poor fool that put his dirty dish on the table instead of in the wreck pan had Gramps to reckon with. 

I had a packhorse along with me for the first night on the trail. We would stop for the evening when we got down from the pass and the next night catch up to where the chuck wagon and remuda waited. It was about a hundred miles to the railroad. We would go up around Watson Mountain and through Saratoga, Wyoming on up to the stockyards at Walcott.

We met up with Bud and Gramps about six or seven miles south of Sentinal Mountain. It was a good spot with plenty of water and rich, tall grass. The five men that had stayed up at the summer range were Charlie and Tom Rangel, Carl Abell, Mark Morgan and Kirby Grant. The first three were all in their early twenties and tough and lean. Charlie and Tom were brothers. Mark was around thirty and Kirby was somewhere in his forties; he was a little vague about it. He was a former army scout and knew the area well. I made Mark my segundo.

I was worried the gang that had been doin' the rustlin' might try somethin' so I talked to Kirby about my concerns.

"Wal, if'n they are gonna try somethin' the best spot would be when we cross the river goin' around the west side of Watson Mountain. There's a narrow spot where they could cut down on us and start a stampede. Why don't I sashay around and take a look."

He left an hour before dawn. I held the herd where we were. We weren't in any particular hurry and this was a good spot. We lazed around but I had extra riders on the herd and one man taking turns scoutin' out the area.

Kirby made it back late that afternoon. "Yeah, it's like I figgered. I been thinkin' on it and here's what I suggest. Let's you and I go around the east side of Watson Mountain. We'll go over the pass and come around in back of where they are staked out. They are about a half-mile north of the ford at a spot where the hills pull back from the river. It appears they figger to surprise you when you come around the corner. You and I'll be staked out behind them.

"Tell Mark to hold the herd as they get across the river. As soon as he hears us start shootin' he should get all the men behind the cattle and push them hard. If they stampede that's all the better. We'll have them caught flat footed and in the middle."

We were in place by mid-morning. I could see that the area close to the river where we were was heavily overgrown with willows and skinny cottonwoods. We'd found a good spot about two hundred yards further down river from them and could see where they had their horses bunched and ready to go. We also had a good view of where the cattle would cross the river. We were pretty sure they would have a man on foot around the corner watching who would alert them as soon as the herd was almost completely across.

When their lookout man came back after spottin' the cattle, the rustlers jumped on their mounts and started the ambush. As soon as they cleared the corner, we could see them stop in confusion as they saw the cattle milling at the ford. I put a couple of quick shots right behind their mounts and, at that signal, the riders with the herd started shooting to panic the cattle and get them movin' fast at the mounted rustlers. 

One of the rustlers had seen the smoke from my shots and started firin' back. Kirby made a quick shot and knocked him off his horse. I took a couple more shots but by then the herd was runnin' into the bunched ambushers. Several of them tried to turn and run and Kirby and I killed one apiece and I winged another. 

When it was over, three of them had gotten away including the one I winged. We had shot three and the herd got one of them. Carl was our only casualty with a crease from a bullet across the top of his thigh. It was not serious but the way he looked, I knew it was painful. The cattle were still running but the men were heading them in the right direction. They had no trouble keeping the herd pointed north since they were hemmed in by the river and the hills. I'd told Mark to just let them run it off. I didn't think we'd see the rustlers again this trip. 

The man that was trampled by the cattle was KC. I was sure that one of the men that got away was Klein. Bud thought the one I'd winged was Packrat. I'd have to look them up when I got back from the drive.

We did lose a half-dozen head with broken limbs and had to shoot them. Gramps, with Bud's volunteer help, butchered one of them to feed the crew. We camped that night along the river. Mark, Kirby and I talked it over and decided to keep the cattle there for a couple of days to settle them down and put some tallow back on. I doubled the riders on the night herd, and put them on two-hour shifts. As keyed up as I was I couldn't sleep so I stayed up late to make sure there was no trouble. It was satisfyin' to hear the cowboys serenadin' the cows all through the night. I put Kirby out about a half-mile in the direction where the survivors had fled but nothin' came of it.

The rest of the trip was quiet. There was lots of nothin' but borin' hard work, which was just what I liked. We got to Walcott in good shape and got a better price for the herd than Pete had expected. There wasn't much to do in Walcott. There were a couple of saloons so I gave the men an extra ten bucks apiece as a bonus and the fight with the rustlers. Two days later I sent them home with the horses and their headaches.




Slowly but Surely Ch. 03



Red and I took the train down to Laramie and put the money for Circle R in the bank, keepin' enough for funds for the ranch to operate on 'til next spring. I sent a telegram to my rancher friend that was keeping my cattle and asked him to ship them to Walcott to arrive in mid-September. When it was time, I'd ride up with a couple of hands and several packhorses and drive them back. They all had my Box SR brand, including the new calves. 

Pete had said okay to my mixin' my stuff in with his. We agreed that instead of doing a lot of extra work I'd take one out of every ten calves branded the next summer. We'd talked a couple of times and he realized that if I couldn't stop the rustlin' in a year or two then it wouldn't make any difference if I started my own ranch. I had my eye on the area between the sand hills and the pond with the hot springs, and northward from there. The summer range in Shipman Park was big enough for both our herds. 

We hadn't had much trouble with rustlin' before the drive. I think the extra men had protected our herds. The Bar J northwest of Pete's place had lost over two hundred head. I hoped that our fight on the Platte had broken the gang. I was lookin' forward to seein' Klein again.

While I was at the bank I deposited my own money, a couple thousand dollars, in the bank. I kept just what I thought I might need for a while. I did buy a new saddle, feelin' galled a bit at what MacPherson had so disparagin'ly said about my old one. The new one was a double rigged saddle with the cinches crossed underneath.

I also got a new rifle. Considerin' the amount of varmints I might be shootin' I felt I deserved the best. The only question was which type of varmint I'd be shootin' at the most, the two or four legged kind. I bought a Winchester 94 lever action. It used the new .30-30 smokeless cartridge. The rifle and cartridge had both just came out and were much better than anything I'd seen before.

Last, but far from least, I found a very nice gold ring for Roxie. I hoped she would be proud to wear it.

There was a much shorter trail back to Walden, though it was suitable for a cattle drive. It went from Laramie to Woods Landing, up to Kings Canyon and down to the Circle R. It was an easy three days ride. If'n I'd been in a hurry I could have made it in two. I sure enjoyed that ride. It was cool up in the mountains and the area was as pretty as anything I'd ever seen.

I stopped by the springs with the small waterfall on the way back. I wanted to get the dust of the trail off and put on clean clothes. I hoped I'd be able to see Roxie right away after I got back to the ranch. It was late afternoon when I arrived at the springs, so I decided to stay there overnight. In the morning, I shaved with care then jumped in the pond. Without the snowmelt, the water was pleasantly hot. What had been a waterfall before had slowed down to a trickle. 

When I finished foolin' around in the hot water, I put on the new shirt and pants I'd bought and had wrapped so carefully. I also had a new hat and boots, both of which I'd started wearin' at once to break them in.

I arrived at the Circle R to give Pete his cash and to see what was goin' on. Things were quiet so I grabbed a beef sandwich and then took off for the Zell's ranch. I saw Clem by the corral so I stopped and shared a smoke with him. I told him about the drive and my hope that the rustler's were out of business, but I might need his help in roundin' up Klein. Clem felt Klein wasn't smart enough to do it on his own and that there must be someone in the background. 

After I was finished with bein' polite, I asked him, "Is Roxie around?"

He laughed, and said, "You didn't fool me with all that makin' nice. I know you didn't come over to see me. No, she's not here. She left a while back to go for a ride. We didn't expect to see you for a couple more days."

Saying "so long" to him, I took off. It made sense they weren't expecting me. I hadn't known about the trail from Laramie which had saved me a lot of time. Of course, I had no idea where Roxie might have ridden off to but I'd nothin' to lose by takin' a chance. I decided to head on over to our picnic spot and see if she might be there. If not, I'd just sit down and relax a while. Even if she wasn't there she could still swing by on her way back to her place. I had time on my hands and no plans.

It was as nice a day as we'd had all summer. It was warm enough with a cloudless blue sky that seemed to go on forever. As I got close, I could hear the murmur of bees and startled a couple of big Jackrabbits out of the brush. I came to a clearing just before the grassy, shaded area we used for a picnic and saw two hobbled horses. One I recognized as Rosie's mare but I'd never seen the other one. It was a large bay with fine features and good coloring. It was at least as large as Dirty Red, maybe larger. Feelin' strange, and knowin' that was no ladies horse, I kicked Red and we moved to the bank of the river.

What I saw so stunned me I was speechless. Roxie was layin' on a blanket and moanin. A man was kissin' her and the hand fondlin' her breast told me this was nothin' innocent.



Slowly but Surely Ch. 04



Chapter Four – Duel in the Sun

A black anger overwhelmed me as I recognized Colin MacPherson on the blanket with Roxie. Spurring Red towards them I dived at MacPherson as soon as I got close enough. I wasn't in any mood to play nice and I caught him with my knee in his chest just as he was rising up. Thinkin' that had finished him I was dismayed to find out he was a lot tougher than I'd expected.

I turned towards Roxie to say somethin' but I never got it out. MacPherson's hand grabbed my shoulder and swung me around. His hard fist landed squarely on my nose and I felt it break, blood gushing down my chest. He slammed another hard punch at my stomach and I was able to back away just enough to prevent him winnin' the fight right then. Catchin' his arm I swung him around and onto the ground. I tried to kick him but he rolled into me and we both tumbled towards the river.

Shaken and staggerin' we eyed each other. He gave me a malevolent, icy glare and I realized just how evil he was. This would be a fight to the finish for one of us. I considered myself a good brawler but MacPherson turned out to be a good boxer. Now that he had time to gather himself, he started making mincemeat of my face. He had a wicked left jab that left its mark each time it rocked my head.

I moved in close and was able to get under his fists. It didn't look like he was a workin' rancher. He was in good shape but I had been doing much harder work than him for years. A steady hammering of his stomach and a hard fist over his heart put him on the ground again. Standing there, trying hard to get air into my lungs, I watched him pull himself to his feet.

We started dancin' around again, him trying his jabs with an occasional successful one at my head. Me, I was just doin' my best to stay out of his way, backin' up and tryin' an occasional counterpunch. He was getting' winded and if I could stay out of his way I knew I had this fight won. Through all this, I could hear Roxie screamin' in the background but I had no idea of what she was sayin'.

Confidence was good, but it was misplaced. I stumbled over a rock straight into a vicious right hook. Fallin' down in a daze, I tried to cover up but he was too quick. He kicked me several times in the ribs and the pain was terrible. The fight would have been over but he was weakening and his last kick was slow enough for me to grab his leg. I jerked it up and pushed and he fell hard on his back. The whooshin' of the air from his lungs told me I had a chance. As he rose to his knees, tryin' desperately to catch his breath, I made it to my feet. Staggerin' closer to him, I kicked as hard as I could right in his gut.

Fightin' down the sharp pain in my ribs and givin' it my all I grabbed his shirt and pulled him to his feet. Measurin' him carefully I put everything into one last punch. Two things happened; I broke my fist and his jaw. He collapsed, falling head down in the river. Stunned with pain and exertion I stood and watched the current pullin' at him for a few seconds, then turned and made it over to Red. I don't know how I made it up on his back and I never had a thought as to whether MacPherson was dead or not.

The pain in my ribs and hand caused me to black out. I was not aware of anything until I woke in my bed with the sun streamin' in the window. Someone had bound my ribs tight and wrapped my hand and nose. Candy was sittin' there lookin' at me. Not havin' the energy, everything was still hazy from the pain, I didn't try to say anything to her – just stared.

She was quiet for a minute then blushed, and said, "How do you feel?"

Tryin' to respond I started coughin'. Candy helped me drink some water. "Awful. Who fixed me up?"

She blushed again, "I did. Bud helped me. Mom and dad were in town. What happened?"

I sure didn't feel like talkin' with her about it. "Nothin'."

"Well, Bud said that Colin MacPherson was near to dead and has a broken jaw. Besides the places I wrapped, your face looks like a horse kicked it. Somethin' must have happened!"

I didn't respond to that, just turned my head and looked out the window. It seems that Roxie had cared enough about him to pull his head out of the river. A few minutes later, I heard the door close. Without realizin' it, my eyes closed and I fell asleep. It was dark when I woke. I reached over for my pants and took the ring out of the pocket. Holdin' it up to the dim lamp, I watched the play of light as I turned it. There was a tap on the door and Bud came in.

He saw the ring and his eyes got big. "Was that for Roxie? Damn, she really screwed up. I went over to see the folks and she told me what happened. She says she didn't meet him there – that she was out ridin' and stopped to sit there and enjoy the day. Then MacPherson came along and she says she don't know for sure what happened."

Muttering, I said, "It don't make much difference one way or another how it happened. It did and that's that."

Bud didn't seem to disagree so we just chatted for awhile. He did add, "One of the riders for my dad was in Steamboat Springs and tol' me he saw Bill Klein."

"Thanks, if you hear any more let me know."

I was in bed for another four days. I had to give MacPherson credit; he could fight. Candy was in every day though we didn't talk much. She would do whatever needed doin' for me but mostly sat and looked at me. In a way, it made me nervous but it was also kinda nice. When she took the bandage off my nose, she started laughin'.

"I'm sorry, but it looks like yore gonna have a crooked nose. Yore still kinda handsome though."

Glenna also stopped in regularly to see if I needed anything or to keep me company. The more I saw her the more I liked her. She was smart and easy to get along with.

I was settin' on the front porch when I saw Mark walk by on his way to supper. I called him over.

"No way will I be able to go up to Walcott to pick my cattle up. Could you grab someone to go get them? Pete already said it was okay. You won't need the chuck wagon and Bud already said he'd go along."

"Sure, Slade. Be glad to do it."

The next mornin', Roxie came over to see how I was. 

"I'm sorry for what happened. I don't know what came over me." Wistfully, she added, "Bud said you had a ring for me?"

I didn't know why I did it, but I took the ring out of my pocket and handed it to her to look at. She put it on her finger and held it up to the sun to look at it. I didn't want her to get too attached to it, so I held my hand out.

With a hopeless look and tears in her eyes, she said, "I guess there is no chance for us?"

Softly, I replied, "I'm sorry, Roxie. I'm just not made that way."

She handed the ring back and left after kissin' me on the cheek.

Candy came up on the porch after Roxie rode away and sat next to me. Neither of us said anything, just sat in companionable silence.

Two weeks later, Mark was back with my cattle. He'd left them in the pasture Pete and I had agreed on. I tried to pay him and the boys but they refused. I decided I'd get them a nice present for Christmas. Pete and I rode out and looked them over.

Pete offered, "They are nice lookin' cattle, Slade. You have the beginnings of a fine herd.

The next couple of months were quiet. The weather was turnin' colder and we had some snow flurries but nothin' much stayed on the ground. In mid-November, we started to get some reports of cattle disappearin' mostly on the west side of the basin. I had Kirby head out to scout. He came back a few days later.

"They are hidin' out down around where the coal is in the southwest part of the basin. I followed some tracks and it looks like they are runnin' 'em down to Kremmling to sell."

I thought about it for a while. "But if they go that way, wouldn't they have to cross MacPherson's ranch?"

"Damn straight," he said with a grin. Breakin' Colin's jaw had made me popular with all the cowhands.

I went around and talked to some of the neighborin' ranchers, especially the ones that had been losin' stock. We made our plans and a week later we had their campsite surrounded when the cold light of dawn showed through a wispy winter ground fog. We had them dead to rights and there was no fight. 

Several of the men disarmed them and tied their hands. I walked up to Klein. I noticed that he was missin' two fingers on his right hand where I'd shot him. I guessed that he'd been using a rifle on the ambush during the trail drive. He didn't even have a handgun with him now.

"You just don't learn, do you? I don't think yore smart enough to have planned all the rustlin' that's been goin' on. Who was in on this with you?"

"Go ta hell, you bastard!"

"Did MacPherson know you were movin' stolen cattle across his land?"

He stared at me with a stony silence. I tried a couple of the other men but no one was talkin'. I think they knew they were dead and just wanted to get it over with.

We found a couple of thick branches to throw ropes over and one by one put a noose around their necks and swatted their horses out from under them. All but Packrat died quickly. His was lookin' to be a slow painful death. I grabbed my rifle and ended it for him.

We left the bodies hangin' from the cold limbs and slowly rode away, feelin' no regrets. We were as sure as we could be that this would end the problems we'd been havin' with rustler's. Not much was said about the raid on their camp on the way back and no one ever mentioned it to me again.

Candy and I were slowly startin' to spend time together. We weren't doin' much; more than anything we'd sit in the livin' room of the house in the evenings, sometimes with Pete and Glenna. We would talk some but mostly we just enjoyed each other's company. I still hurt from what Roxie had done and I think Candy understood that. She seemed like she had grown a lot the last few months. 

One afternoon Candy took me out to the barn to see the new kittens from one of the cats that made the barn their home. She picked one up and held it to her cheek. She looked so sweet with the kitten that I moved behind her and slid my arms around her waist. I nuzzled her neck and bit her ear gently. She turned around and handed me the kitten. I held it out at arm's length like it was a snake.

She laughed at me and said, "Is that how you are goin' to hold a baby?"

They had a Christmas dance the middle of December. It was cold enough to bundle up with furs but the schoolhouse was warm with the roarin' fire in the stove. Candy was strangely quiet. She danced a couple of times with me and a couple of the married ranchers but avoided all the cowboys except for Bud and Gramps. She'd adopted Bud as a brother and Gramps had raised her as much as her parents did. She had on a new dress that kept my eyes on her all night.

I came earlier with Candy in the smaller of Pete's wagons as she had to help decorate. On the way back, she snuggled up to me and held on to my arm. When I dropped her off, she gave me a quick, sleepy kiss and jumped off the wagon before I had a chance to help her down.

Christmas was quiet; Bud had gone home for the week and the hands kept to themselves. Christmas Eve had arrived with six inches of snow and strong winds causin' a lot of driftin'. Candy and her mom fixed a nice dinner on Christmas day and we exchanged presents. I gave the women some nice gloves. For Pete I had a new pipe and a big pouch of tobacco.

Candy gave me several new scarves and made me throw all my old ones away. "I swear, Slade, you must have had those awful things for ten years. Her parents went over to see some friends so that gave us time to sit in front of the fire and practice our kissin'. We were definitely getting' better at it. It was a nice, quiet Christmas.

Spring came and the hard work resumed. No one had seen anything of MacPherson. He hadn't been to any of the dances and no one saw him in town. The rumors had him stayin' in Denver, but no one really knew.

A funny thing happened one Sunday while we were eating dinner. A man came to the door and Pete invited him in and asked him to sit with us for dinner.

Pete introduced everyone, but before the man gave his name, he said, "So you're Slade Ransom?"

I nodded but didn't say anything.

"I'm Phil Epperson. I was sheriff of Keith County in Nebraska, that's where Ogallala is, until I lost the last election. I'm movin' out to California where my daughter and her family are livin'." He looked at me. "You're a hard man to find. I was talkin' to the gunsmith in Laramie and he was tellin' me about this man that bought the first Winchester 94 he had for sale. We kicked it around and I decided that man was you!"

I felt sick. I'd 'bout forgotten the bank robbery. I looked around and knew there was nothin' I could do. I was unarmed and Pete's family was around the table. I couldn't let anything happen to them.

"Don't look so worried, son. Cap talked to me some more and half convinced me you were innocent. I started tryin' to find out who was in town durin' the robbery and I found a farm couple that saw the whole thing. They were so scared when the bullets started flyin' that they left town. I met with them and they told me that you had been sittin' on the bank steps waitin' when the bank robbers rode up.

"So you can relax. No one is ever goin' to come lookin' for you."

He stayed that night and the next day he rode back to Laramie to catch the train for California. I sure appreciated the extra effort he'd taken to set my mind at rest. 

I started takin' Candy for rides on Sunday afternoons. I stayed away from the spot on the Platte. Mostly, Candy and I rode up to the Pond where we met. We'd take a picnic lunch and lay a blanket on the grass. Spendin' time with Candy helped me realize I'd been more in lust with Roxie than in love. With Candy, I fell in love with her first and the rest was comin' slowly. We did continue with some serious kissin' and Pete kept askin' me when the weddin' was.

One time when we were sittin' by the springs I finally got around to askin' her about how she had acted when I had the confrontation with Klein when I had fired him.

"You acted like you really liked him."

"Well, no. He had been chasin' around after me, and every girl likes that. I was just so darn mad at you. Mostly because I liked you, I really did. But I didn't want to admit it to myself. Then you started with Roxie at the dance 'bout the time I realized I didn't really have any reason to be mad at you. You couldn't have known that I was up at the hot spring. After that, I was jealous, so I kept acting as if I didn't like you.

"When you came back from the fight with Mr. MacPherson I was scared that you might have been hurt even worse than you were. I think it made me grow up a little. I knew I liked you but I hadn't let myself think about it 'cause of Roxie. It's like I woke up from a dream. Over the winter, I fell in love with you but I didn't say anything. I knew it was hard on you. I decided that if you came to care for me I'd just have to wait for it."

"Do you love me, Candy?"

"Yes, Slade, I really do."

I told her about Jennie and my little girl that had never had a chance to grow up. "It's taken me a long time to get over her. I thought I'd never love anyone again. I do think I love you but I want to be sure."

One time Candy asked about my shootin' Bill Klein in the hand. "Are you really that good a shot?"

I grinned because no one had asked me that before. They must have felt I really was that good. "No, not really. I'm fast and more accurate than most men, but not that good. I didn't want to kill him. I was actually trying to hit him in his upper left arm or shoulder but as I brought the pistol up I shot a tad too quick."

I couldn't even do that good now since I was still havin' some problems with my hand. The broken knuckles from the fight by the river hadn't healed right and my fingers were stiff – they were slow and clumsy. I didn't bother to carry a gun belt at all. I couldn't draw a pistol fast enough to shoot a snake! So I made sure to carry my rifle with me whenever I rode out on Red.

On a hot morning in July, Candy and I rode into Walden to pick up a couple of things she needed to make a dress. She tied her horse to the rail in front of the store and went inside to do her shopping. I started ridin' Red down the street towards the bar. He had an icehouse out back of his place and had cold beer all summer. Candy had said she would be a while; a beer and cigar with Ken sounded good.

I was walkin' Dirty Red, daydreamin' more than anything, when I heard a shout. My head snapped up and I saw Colin MacPherson steppin' off the board sidewalk into the thick dust of the street.

"Damn you, Ransom, I'm gonna kill you. Draw you son of a bitch!

Well, not havin' a side arm, I really couldn't draw. He didn't seem like he was in the mood to negotiate. Grabbin' my rifle, I dove off Red on the side away from the man in the street. I rolled a couple of times as fast as I could, hearin' the bang of his gun and whinin' of the bullets slammin' into the dust inches from me. I threw the barrel out and as fast as I could, levered and shot three times. I was pullin' the lever down for the fourth shot when somethin' hit my head like a hammer.

I came to in what turned out to be a couple of minutes later. Candy was sittin' in the dust with my head in her lap. There was blood on her dress and her hands. She was wiping my head with a wet towel.

"Slade, he creased your head but it's not too bad. You've been bleedin' a lot but it's 'bout stopped now. I don't think you have a concussion."

"What about ..."

"He's dead. Only one of your shots hit him but it was right in the middle of his chest."

Ken had a wagon he kept in a shed behind the bar. He took me out to the Circle R in it. Candy and her mom, Glenna, fixed me up. Glenna shaved around the crease from the bullet and put several stitches to pull the cut together. 

When it was bandaged Glenna told Candy to let me have some rest. I took Candy's hand and pulled her down to the bed. "Could you stay a minute?"

She nodded as her eyes went wide. 

"Candy, I do love you. Maybe I did all along and was just as hard-headed as you were." I pulled her to me and kissed her gently." Hand me that leather pouch on the dresser."

She reached over and gave it to me. I opened it up and took out the ring I had purchased in Laramie the year before. 

I put the ring on her finger, and asked her, "Candy, marry me, please?"

She looked at the ring and started crying. Flingin' herself over my chest she murmured, over and over, "Yes, Slade, oh yes!" 

We were married in October, and the next summer when I found she was with child, I built another house a ways off from Pete and Glenna's place. All the neighboring ranchers, their families and hands showed up to help and we got most of the work done in a day.

It was a good life in a good country, and I was as happy as a man could be.

This completes my first attempt at a Western. I hope you have enjoyed it. Should I try another? I do have some ideas for a sequel to this story.