Blood and Gold

“How you feeling, boy?” Charlie asked. His eyes carefully searched mine as though to find the answer written there.

“Better,” I said. I looked down at the fresh bandage on my shoulder. “Who fixed me up?”

“I did,” Charlie said. “After you told Ma about Lafe Wingo an’ them, I put some stuff on your misery that stung and some that didn’t, but you was already asleep so you didn’t know the difference.” He came closer to me and I could smell the whiskey on him. “You hungry, boy?”

Suddenly I realized I was ravenous.

“Mr. Fullerton,” I said, which was how we punchers addressed cooks back then, since they could serve up some mighty miserable chuck if we didn’t, “I’d like a thick steak, six fried eggs and maybe twice that number of biscuits. And honey if you got it.”

Charlie looked at me suspiciously. “What’s the matter, boy, off your feed?”

“No, in fact—”

“How ’bout a couple of steaks, a dozen eggs and half a loaf of fried sourdough?”

“Sounds perfect, Mr. Fullerton.” I raised myself into a sitting position. “Have Ma and Lila eaten yet?”

“An hour ago. Now they’re drinking tea in the parlor and talking them female pretties. If’n you have a mind to join them, I’ll bring in your grub.”

Charlie turned to go, but I stopped him. “Mr. Fullerton, have you seen anything of Apaches?”

The cook turned, his face suddenly drawn and concerned. “Dusty, Victorio’s main bunch attacked the Jurgunsen place day afore yesstidy. Tom Jurgunsen and his boy, Jacob, was killed, and Miz Jurgunsen took a bullet in the back and ain’t expected to live.”

Charlie took a step closer to me. “Miz Prather is mighty worried. The Jurgunsen spread is only a few miles north of here, and that’s why she has Deke Stockton out scouting around right now. There’s only you, Deke, Jim Meldrum and myself to defend this place if’n the Apaches hit us. Deke is a fair hand with a rifle, but Meldrum now, he hasn’t picked up a gun in a ten year, says he don’t hold with shootin’ and killin’ no more.”

“I think Jim will change his mind right quick if Victorio hits us,” I said.

If Ma was worried, she must’ve figured she’d good cause. She was a woman who didn’t scare easy. Back in the old days, she’d stood shoulder to shoulder with her husband a dozen times and used her Sharps rifle to fight off raiding parties of Kiowa and Comanche, to say nothing of rustlers.

But Apaches were a different proposition entirely. Victorio wasn’t here to hit and run. He had declared war on the United States and was determined to stay. If he chose to attack the SP, few as we were, Ma, Lila and the rest of us were in a heap of trouble.

After Charlie left, I put on my hat, got dressed in the clean shirt and pants Ma had laid out for me and stomped into my boots. Ma didn’t hold with wearing guns in the house, so I slid the Colt out of the holster and stuck it in my waistband at the small of my back.

Stepping quietly, I crept downstairs and saw to my relief that the door to the parlor was closed. I tiptoed past and walked out the front door and into the gathering darkness.

A slight rain pattered around me as I stood quiet and still and listened to the night sounds. High above, the horned moon showed its face only now and again as black clouds scudded past. I was still weak from loss of blood but not near so tired, and whatever concoctions Charlie had put on my wound had helped, because my shoulder wasn’t so stiff and didn’t hurt as bad.

I stood in the shadows for a while, saw and heard nothing, then walked along the front of the house to the corral, a dozen horses turning to look at me as I passed. Twice I stopped and listened, but heard only the soft fall of the rain and the sigh of the free, un-branded wind.

I stepped over to the bunkhouse but the place was dark, so I turned on my heel and began to make my way back to the house again.

I’d only gone a few yards when I heard a muffled footstep behind me. I turned quickly, drawing the Colt from my waistband.

Jim Meldrum stood there, two well-worn revolvers in shoulder holsters hung on each side of his narrow chest.

The man made no move toward his hardware but gave me one of his rare smiles, his teeth showing white in the darkness under his mustache. “Fast, Dusty. Mighty fast and smooth.”

I lowered the Colt, letting out my pent-up breath in a relieved hiss. “Hell, Jim, you scared me out of a year’s growth,” I said.

Meldrum nodded. “Sorry about that. But Deke Stockton hasn’t come in yet, and that’s a worrisome thing.”

“I thought you’d hung up your guns forever, Jim,” I said. I’d never seen Meldrum wear his Colts before, but he looked like he was born to them, as though they were an essential part of him.

The lanky puncher shrugged. “Like you, like Deke, I ride for the brand. I’ve been thinking things over, and if there’s shooting to be done, and killing, I’ll do it. I may not like it, but I’ll do it.”