Blue Bonnet (9 page)

Bat put his arm over his eyes and
said dryly. “Ha, ha! The two ya would make a good pair of
clowns.”

The week passed with Bat
struggling to walk. His legs had a mind of their own, and his lower
legs were painful. At first, the crutch wasn't much help. It wanted
to go one way, and he went the other. By Friday noon, he was
finally getting around better.

After dinner, he announced, “Sis,
I've decided to spend the weekend in town at the girls. I'm tired
of bein' shut in this house.”

“Are you sure you're up to
traveling to town?” Billie asked. She watched him move slowly,
limping on one foot then the other from the table back to the
settee.

“I am,” Bat said through clinched
teeth.

“All right, if you say so. I'll
have one of the cowhands hitch up my buggy and tie your horse on
behind.”

Once they arrived in Dead Horse,
Billie helped Bat into the his daughters house and drove her buggy
to the livery stable.

Sunday morning, Bat was determined
to go to church like usual. He had to get away from his girls. They
were about to mother hen him to death. When the girls left for
church, he told them to stop by the livery. He wanted Billie's
buggy prepared and brought to the house. He'd drive over to
Billie's from there.

With a little effort, Bat managed
to walk up the church steps and back down them. While he ate dinner
with Billie, she asked him what his plans were for the next
week.

“I'm going back out to the ranch.
By golly, ranch life isn't so bad,” Bat declared.

Billie steepled her fingers under
her chin. “You're going to be more choosy about which jobs you
volunteer for from now on I hope.”

“I might be,” Bat
uttered.

“You are the boss you know. As
such you can pick and choose your jobs,” Billie lectured, looking
down her nose at him.

“We'll see. It might just be a
matter of me being more careful when I do a job,” Bat said
stubbornly.

That next week, he enjoyed the
time he spent on the ranch. Hunker told him he needed to take it
easy until his brand wound healed, and he was walking better. If he
wanted, he could rode along to keep the cowboys company.

Leisure time in the evenings was
especially fun, spending time with the cowhands at the bunkhouse
card parties. Bat suddenly found himself wondering what he needed a
wife for?

Chapter Nine

Another week went past. Bat didn't
feel up to riding back to Dead Horse for the weekend. Saturday
morning, he decided to go fishing. He caught a mess of bullheads in
the pond. He cleaned the fish and fried them and a large cast iron
skillet of fried potatoes. For bread, he baked a pan of
cornbread.

When Bat heard the cowhands ride
in, he went out on the porch and watched them dismount by the barn.
He beat the triangle dangling from the porch eave to get their
attention.

“What's up, Boss?” Hunker
called.

“I caught a
whoppin' platter of fish, and ya all are invited to come over and
eat supper with me,” Bat yelled. “Hunker, make sure to bring the
cards.”

Bat was pretty sure that evening
was the most fun that old house had seen in years, including when
Hannah was alive. He knew she would have approved.

The next week, Hunker said they
didn't require Bat's help with anything. The foreman surmised that
his boss was walking a little tender yet. He could ride along as
long as he didn't get the burn wound dirty.

Monday of the next week Bat was
eager to be helpful. Hunker made him roll up his jean leg so he
could inspect the wound burn. The scabs weren't much, and the red
area was smaller.

“All right, Boss. That wound is
lookin' real good so far.” Hunker rubbed his chin as he thought.
“Tell ya what, ya want to go around to all the line shacks and make
a list of what we need for repairs for the buildings and corrals.
We need to work on them before winter gets here.”

“Sure, I can do that,” Bat said
eagerly.

“Just be careful not to bump that
bad leg. Burns are hard to heal, and that one is takin' its own
sweet time,” Hunker said.

“I'll be careful.”

“It might take all week to get
from one to the other of those line shacks. Take yer time. Be sure
to take paper and a pencil with ya to write down what ya need to
order,” Hunker instructed.

“Since the west end is the
farthest away, how about after I check the line shack I ride the
fence line as long as I'm there. I should be back by Friday
afternoon. Don't ya think?”

“Reckon so,” Hunker
agreed.

The distance between the line
shacks were a day. By the time Bat got to the north one and looked
around, it was time to spend the night. The next morning, he rode
for the east shack and the next day to the south shack. The only
left one more. It would take two days by the time he rode along the
fence line on the way to the line shack.

The time on horse back, Bat spent
watching the scenery and animals at play. The steers appeared to be
fat and sassy this summer. Just the way he liked to see
them.

About noon on Thursday, Bat rode
up on a hole in the fence. Not a pile of wire weighed down by the
snow or knocked down by deer hooves. Bat dismounted and tied Blaze
to a scrub tree while he looked around. The barbed wire was pulled
back out of the way up against the fence line, making the gap
wide.

Bat walked from the gap into the
neighboring ranch, checking out three sizes of boot prints walking
on cattle tracks. Some of his cattle went through that gap driven
by rustlers. The land belonged to Lim Withman. He'd have to do
something about this. He was willing to overlook a beef missing
once ever so often to feed the Withman younguns, but Lim couldn't
get away with rustling cattle.

It took Bat an hour to repair the
gap, before he rode to the line shack. By the time he looked around
there to see what needed repaired, it was supper time. He warmed a
can of beans and turned in early.

In the middle of the night, Bat
woke up to the sound of dogs yapping. He listened a minute and
decided maybe he better go check. The dogs might be chasing his
cattle. He didn't want them to stampede through the fence. His beef
would get all cut up.

Bat decided he didn't want to take
the time to saddle his horse. He'd go on foot since the dogs
sounded close. He carried his rife for a long range shot at them.
Just over a knoll an eighth of a mile from the line shack, three
dark figures on foot and a pack of dogs were running six of Bat's
steers through a hole in the fence. He slipped up as close as he
dared and watched. He recognized the long strides of the taller of
the rustlers. It was Lim Withman and his boys back for more
steers.

Bat didn't see how he could do any
good by himself on foot. One shot and they were bound to scatter.
Besides, he didn't have the heart to shoot Lim or his younguns.
He'd ride back to the ranch for help and go in on Lim, look around
and drive the cattle back through the gap in the wire they left
from.

It would take a few hours to get
back to the ranch so Bat headed out right away. The night was dark,
but he knew the way like the back of his hand.

By the time dawn was breaking, Bat
rode to the barn. The cowhands were getting ready to leave. Hunker
said, “Ya back already, Boss?”

“I ran into a problem, and I need
some men to go with me over to Lim Withman's place. Last night, I
spotted him and two of his boys rustling cattle on foot with their
pack of dogs near the west line shack. Weren't the first time,
either. I fixed one gap in that west fence yesterday a mile from
the line shack and figured it was Lim drove off them steers,” Bat
explained.

“What ya figure on doing?” Hunker
asked.

“Nose around to find the cattle
and head them back through the gap in the fence. Give Lim what for
for stealing my cattle and warn him now that I'm wise I don't want
it to happen again. I figured if I took ya'all, Baldy and Windy
along with me he'd see I mean business. That might make Lim think
twice about rustling.”

“Sounds right. Let's go,” Hunker
said.

About mid day, the men rode across
the Withman land. They were close to the homestead when a rifle
went off and dust kicked up in front of Blaze. He reared and kicked
his back hooves in protest. Bat held on and settled the horse
down.

“Lim Withman, stop shooting at us.
Bat Kayhill here. I want to talk to ya,” Bat yelled.

Two more shots scattered the
dust.

“Get down men and flatten out.
That sucker is libel to get a better aim directly,” Bat
ordered.

The men lined up on the dirt and
scrub grass back of the slight rise in the ground and eyed the run
down buildings.

Hunker said, “One of them shooters
is on the back side of the barn, and another one behind the house.
One more beside the chicken house.”

“Want us to start shooting back,
Boss?” Windy asked.

“Nope, not yet. One thing I don't
want to do is shoot at the house with it full of little younguns.
Don't relish shooting at any of them over my cattle. Just want to
do get the beeves back peaceful,” Bat said. He yelled, “Lim, I just
want to talk. Throw yer rifle out so I can come down
there.”

Another shot blasted from behind
the barn and landed a few yards in front of them. Close enough that
the cowhands ducked down.

Bat said, “I don't think he is
aimin' to hit one of us just yet. How about I crawl behind this
knoll to the trees and come in behind the barn? That would catch
old Lim off guard. Hunker, ya want to go with me?”

“Yip, beats layin' out here in the
hot sun, gettin' shot at,” Hunker said dryly.

“Boys, fire a shot ever so often,
but just don't aim too close to them shooters and not the one by
the house atall,” Bat ordered.

The two men bellied the ground
over to the stand of cottonwood trees. As they stood up to eased
from tree to tree, Baldy and Windy pelted the ground in front of
the barn with bullets.

Bat and Husker were on the blind
side of where Lim hid. When they made it across the clearing, Bat
eased along the barn and edge around the back. Lim, his rifle
raised to his shoulder, was peeking out at the knoll and itching to
take another shot.

Bat said quietly, “Lim, I'm right
behind ya. Hunker and me have guns aimed at ya. Drop that rifle and
call out them two sons of yers. We're goin' to have that
talk.”

“Boys, throw yer guns down and
come out. Kayhill has me dead to rights,” Lim called.

A shot rang out from the
knoll.

Husker yelled, “Boys, quit
shooting. We got them cornered.”

“Now you can come slow with yer
hands in the air, younguns,” Bat called.

Six leggy, rib showing, spotted
hounds heard the stranger's voice. They came barreling out from
behind the chicken house, headed right for Bat and
Hunker.

“Call them dogs off or we will
shoot ever one of them,” Hunker yelled.

Two gangly shaggy haired boys
shouted to their dogs. The dogs froze, looked from the boys to the
strangers and slinked back to the boys.

Once he was cornered, Lim
confessed to rustling the cattle. Bat explained he didn't want to
take Lim away from his family. They needed his worthless hide. Bat
ordered Lim and his boys to drive the cattle back through the gap
and fixed it since they did the stealing. Bat said he'd let taking
his cattle go this time. Next time, he'd send the sheriff out to
handle the situation. Lim seemed to get the message.

By late Friday afternoon, Bat was
on his way back to Dead Horse for the weekend in the buckboard.
Monday morning, he'd stop by the Mercantile and load boards and
nails to make the line shack repairs.

Doc's buggy was tied in front of
his office so Bat stopped to let Doc check his leg.

“About time you came in,” the
short, elderly man grumped.

“I've been busy, Doc,” Bat
excused.

“Better roll that pant leg up and
let me see how you're healing,” Doc ordered. He examined the wound.
Then he pushed around on both legs, asking if it hurt when he
poked. No was Bat's answer for all the pokes. Doc said, “Looks like
you've healed. Be careful of that burn for awhile so you don't
reopen it. You're free to go as soon as you pay your
bill.”

Bat tied his horses to the
Mercantile hitch rail. He looked up and down the street. Several
horses tied up in front of the Lucky Horseshoe Saloon belonged to
his cowhands. They had beat him to town.

A burst of raucous laughter came
from behind the bat wing doors. It sounded like the customers were
having a good time. One of the laughs was Hunker's loud, nasally
squawk.

Bat thought he just might make his
next stop the saloon for a snort or two with the men. So what if he
was a little late for supper? Tessie needed to learn to be
flexible.

First, Bat had to check for mail
at the post office. “Howdy, Mrs. Wagaman. Any mail for
me?”