Stands a Calder Man (Calder Saga 2)

“Benteen Calder, with the Triple C.” He courteously offered his hand in greeting and felt the fairly young man press his hand into his palm, without exerting the effort to shake it.

“I’ve been meaning to ride out to both your places,” the sheriff said, giving the impression he didn’t rush into anything. “I’d like you to speak to your boys and ask them not to make any trouble. I know when they come to town it’s natural for them to feel kind of frisky. I don’t expect that you control that, but I’d like you to see to it that they don’t bother any law-abiding folk.”

“I don’t suppose they will as long as you see to it that your law-abiding folk don’t bother them,” Ed Mace challenged.

“That Hobie Evans rides for you, don’t he?” It was a statement of recollection rather than a quest for information.

“He does.” The rancher’s look almost dared the sheriff to say more.

“It was nice meeting both of you gents,” the sheriff drawled and nodded to each of them in turn. “This is a day for celebration. I hope your boys behave themselves and don’t step out of line. I wouldn’t like to have to arrest anybody on the day of our nation’s independence.”

The corners of his mouth were turned up in the closest effort he made to a smile as he bid the ranchers good day and ambled off at the same leisurely pace that had brought him there.

“I heard a rumor the town was thinking about hiring a sheriff, but I wasn’t aware they actually had.” Benteen sent a questioning glance at the man beside him. “This must have just happened.”

“The first of the month.”

“Has there been trouble?”

“A few minor incidents, nothing serious.” The rancher shrugged. “There isn’t an outfit around that hasn’t had to let some cowboys go. Most of them have been hanging around town until their money’s gone. You know what the boys are like, Benteen. They get bored with nothing to do and start hazing the drylanders. Basically, it’s just harmless fun, but they get a little rough sometimes.”

The homesteaders were green, so they were the most likely ones to bear the brunt of a cowboy’s frustration. And if a homesteader’s sense of humor didn’t match a cowboy’s, the cowboy would be more than willing to back up his opinion on the matter. Benteen was certain a few scuffles had resulted.

“There’s been complaints, too, about Sonny’s saloon—and the ‘criminal element’ that hangs out there.” Ed Mace stressed the derogatory reference to the men who rode for them. “It happens every time you get a bunch of those high-minded farmers. It won’t be long before they’ll be wanting to close his place down. God help Fannie when the pious horsefaces find out about her.”

“The next thing you know they’ll be drawing a deadline the way they did in the trail towns,” Benteen suggested in dry amusement.

“With the respectable folk on one side and the cattlemen on the other,” Ed Mace elaborated with gathering resentment. “And us forbidden to cross the line. It was us, and men like us, that built this town. Nobody is going to tell me or my men where we can walk in it. Not ever.”

“I hope neither one of us sees that day.” There were too many changes coming too fast to be able to predict what tomorrow might bring. But the water was simmering in the cauldron. If much more wood was put in the fire, it was liable to boil over. And there didn’t seem to be any lack of available fuel. A couple of musicians had climbed onto the makeshift bandstand to begin tuning their instruments. “It looks like the dance is about to start,” Benteen observed. “I guess I’d better find my wife.”

It wasn’t much more than a block from the roadhouse saloon to the flat area being used for the dance, but a cowboy never walks when he can ride. Somebody brought the word that the dance was about ready to start, and the cowboys began spilling out of the saloon onto their horses, some of them taking the time to stuff a bottle into their saddlebags.

None of them were drunk but they were all feeling good, shouting and laughing as they urged their horses into a canter over the short distance. Webb rode right in the midst of them, more sober than most with only one beer under his belt. The wagons were a barricade that kept them from riding right up to the dance floor. Forced to dismount, they tied their horses to the nearest available wheel of any buckboard and worked their way forward to the short wooden platform where the dancing had already started.

At the edge of the platform, they began spreading out, halting in clusters of three and four to review the potential dance partners that were present. All the homesteaders were strung along the opposite side. Webb noticed his parents among the dancers on the floor, and Ruth dancing with the foreman of the Brickman Ranch.

With the exception of a few ranchers’ daughters, the pickings of eligible girls were slim on the cowboys’ side of the floor. It was a different story on the homesteaders’ side, where there seemed to be an equal number of males and females.

“Look at the bosom on that gal with the yellow braids.” Young Shorty nudged Webb with his elbow. “Hot damn! She’s the one for me.”

Just as Webb spotted the young girl in the white pinafore, he saw Lilli standing beside her and he went still. She was wearing a bright blue dress that he knew had to match her eyes. As she watched the dancers, she swayed in time with the music.

“I spotted her first,” Abe Garvey insisted. “You take the one in blue next to her.”

“She’s married,” Webb stated flatly, dropping his gaze and forcing it in another direction.

“The hell you say.” Abe frowned.

“I got dibs on Yellow Braids,” Shorty insisted. “It ain’t my fault, Abe, that you didn’t say something before me.”

As Young Shorty Niles started across the floor, Abe hurried to follow a step behind him. “When she turns you down, Shorty, just move over, ’cause I’m right behind you.”

“Are you gonna try your luck?” Nate inquired, sending a sidelong look at Webb.

“No.” But he sensed the closeness of Nate’s scrutiny and let a wry smile lift one corner of his mouth. “I’m going to let them blaze the trail. That way I can travel faster following their sign.”

“Don’t look like they’re doin’ too good,” Nate surmised.