The Women in Pants- Sidesaddles No More Read online

  The Women in Pants

  By

  Stan Himes

  Copyright © 2017 Stan Himes.

  All rights reserved.

  Table of Contents

  PREFACE

  PART ONE

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  PART TWO

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  PART THREE

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  PART FOUR

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  PART FIVE

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  PART SIX

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  EPILOGUE

  PREFACE

  My name is Laurie Michaels. You’ll meet me later as I don’t appear in the story early on, even though I tell it (and, just to prepare you, often interrupt it). I was an eyewitness to and participant in most of the events in this book. What I didn’t witness, I learned through interviews, figured out from some facts, or made my best guess. The point I’m trying to make is that I’ve done whatever I could to be as accurate and truthful as I can about what happened during that summer of 1878.

  PART ONE

  FORMATION

  Chapter 1

  Half-dozing at the bar, Charlie hadn’t needed to look up to know that little, if any, business was coming in when Jonas entered. The slow, drawling squeak of the saloon door said it all. A thirsty man, or one hungry for a woman, always burst in. Still, these days anyone who broke up the boredom was welcome, and Charlie gave a smile.

  “Jonas. Long time.”

  Jonas nodded back. His eyes swept the big room. No sign of life beyond Charlie and two saloon girls daydreaming their way through a card game. “Guess I picked the wrong place to look for cattlehands.”

  “Been bad,” said Charlie. “Silver strike over in Leadville.”

  “Colorado?” Jonas’s face darkened and there was a little twitch in his square chin as he clenched his jaw. He spoke through closed teeth. “How many went?”

  “Just the damn fools.”

  “Which means everybody.”

  “That sums it up.” Now it was Charlie’s turn to sweep his eyes from one side of the empty saloon to the other. Once bright walls were dull with age and smoke and grime and mostly neglect. Usually bawdy patrons colored the view, but not now. “Though maybe I’m a damn fool for staying. Get you a whisky? Beer?”

  A trickle of sweat rolled down Jonas’s neck, but he shook his head. “Only drink to celebrate. Don’t see that happening today.”

  The younger of the women, a sprightly thing named Ellie—with a bosom large enough her feet stayed dry in the rain—checked the exposed tops of her breasts for perspiration, seeing none but dabbing them with her kerchief just in case. Pearl, the wiser of the two, placed a black eight on a red nine and offered up quiet advice. “Waste o’ time.”

  “For you, maybe.”

  Ellie cut off Jonas at the door with her lushest come-hither look. “Think I might be just what you’re looking for?”

  Jonas sidestepped her. “Only if you’re a man who can drive cattle.” This time the door’s creak was quick and direct as Jonas strode through to the street. It was Ellie’s first taste of rejection and they tell me that her jaw dropped, but I don’t believe it since, like I said, she has a more than ample bosom.

  This was all about three days before Mary came to my father’s bank. After Jonas had hopped off their ragged wagon to head into the Castle Royal Saloon, Mary and Katie had taken the wagon on up the dusty main street to Mickel’s General Store and received the same news.

  “No men? None at all?” This was disappointing information to just about any 16-year-old girl, but especially to Katie, who only came to Secluded Springs a few times a year and now wore her newly made blue gingham dress that matched her eyes. What good was wearing a new dress if there were no men around to impress?

  Mickel’s General Store was the essence of efficiency, at least as far as storing items was concerned. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined every wall and even bracketed the front window. Flour, sugar, coffee. Fabric, needles, thread. Handguns, knives, sheaths. From alpaca scarves for winter warmth to zinnia seeds for summer beauty, Edward kept it in stock and his tall, lanky granddaughter, Ernestine, kept track of where it was. It was a sight to behold, but Katie saw only Edward’s that’s-the-way-it-is-miss face.

  Mary raised an eyebrow at Katie’s forwardness. “It’s not like we’d be buying men at the general store, sweetheart.” There was also a hint of a smile at one corner of Mary’s mouth. She remembered being a rather forward girl herself, but she had no intention of letting Katie think a brazen indecency was anything but improper. She gave a slight cough to hide the smile.

  “I know. It’s just… I thought I could at least talk to one.”

  “You should be more concerned about what this means for the ranch. Your pa came here looking for cattlehands.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Katie looked toward the corner where Ernestine stretched her gangly frame to a high shelf and pulled down some burlap bags to hold the dry goods. “Don’t you wish there were men to talk to, Ernestine?”

  Ernestine was reserved to the point that she was known to even clam up around dogs. Most customers saw her back as she gathered items and saw the top of her head as she carried them, head bowed, to the counter. But her ears worked fine and while you might think the biggest bone in her tall body was a leg bone, it was actually her funny bone. The thought of her talking with a man struck her as the funniest thing she’d heard in a month of Sundays and she let out a shrill, piercing howl that had Edward glancing up at the glassware for fear of cracks. Katie related to me later that it was the first time she learned what a pretty smile Ernestine kept hidden behind her veil of shyness.

  The thump of Ernestine plopping a bag of sugar onto the counter drew Katie’s attention.

  “That much sugar?” She took in the large amount of supplies her mom was buying. They hadn’t been in town long, but the day was sure going every way but how she’d expected it. No men to show off her dress to. No men for her dad to hire. That meant no cattle drive, which meant no money, which meant… well, she didn’t know what all it meant, but she knew it wasn’t good. And now her mother was ignoring all the troubles by buying out the store. “Ma, there’s no sense stocking up if there’s no men to drive the cattle.”

  “You know your pa better’n that. He’ll drive them himself if he has to.” Mary waved a finger over the supplies, adding them up and marking them off on a checklist in her head. “Better add five more pounds of flour, Ed. Those Byerly boys are big on biscuits.”

  Ed snapped his fingers. “Almost forgot.” A tiny area of the store was devoted to a telegraph machine and a basket for holding mail. Telegrams and letters to Secluded Springs were few and Edward didn’t deliver them until at least a month had passed. He said he didn’t sign up for deliveries, but I’m pretty sure he really just thought that holding onto them was another way to get people to visit the store. “Got a telegram for Jonas and another for Hank Byerly. Mind taking this one to Hank?”

  Mary accepted both envelopes. “Sure will. And if anyone shows up who can drive cattle, I’m sure Jonas would want you to
send them our way.”

  Katie picked up a box of supplies. “Even if they can’t drive cattle, send ’em out anyway.”

  Mary almost dropped the envelopes. “Katie!”

  “But it’s so disappoi—”

  “Katie Bartlett!”

  “I’m sorry.” She stared at the floor, knowing what was coming next.

  “When we get home, young lady”—the words didn’t roll off Mary’s tongue so much as snap off like she was taking a bite out of each one—“the chicken coop needs cleaning, the root cellar needs swept out, and I’ll think of more after that.”

  “All right,” Katie resigned herself to her fate. But as she glanced up to see the twinkle in Ernestine’s eyes as she stifled another giggle, extra chores didn’t seem like too high a price.

  The ride into town had been filled with expectations, the morning sun shining down like a beacon of hope. Not so heading home. The same sun now beat down on them as Jonas eased their dusty wagon past Sally’s Seamstress Shop at the edge of town. Humidity hung in the air and dust from the road caught in the beads of moisture on the back of Jonas’s hands. He couldn’t help but notice Mary’s eyes glance at the bright dress in the shop’s window. He looked at the frayed one she wore. Even after 18 years of marriage and ranching, she still had her fine looks and a figure that should be wrapped in an outfit just as fine. If he couldn’t find cattlehands, more was lost than a new dress.

  Mary knew Jonas’s mind better than her own. She patted his leg. “I’m comfortable with what I have.”

  He knew her mind, too. She was worried.

  Anyone holding a telegram would be worried. The wagon was loaded with supplies, but the heaviest items on it were the telegrams. Telegrams brought bad news. Mary and Jonas—and me, too, if I may interject—never knew a single person who received good news in a telegram. Good news could wait a few months or even a year and drift in in a letter, but bad news needed to be delivered right away (except, of course, when under Edward’s slow care in Secluded Springs).

  Mary wondered if they should wait until Katie was out of earshot, but a nod of the head from Jonas told her to get it over with. If someone was dead, he wanted to get the news and then put it behind him. She tore open the envelope.

  “It’s from Zeke.”

  “I hope it’s gonna shock me and say they’re on their way.” A gust of wind rattled through the brittle leaves on the brush as they left the town behind. The dirt street turned into a grimy trail.

  “‘Got in fight, stop. Lot of damages, stop. In Nogales jail next 60 days, stop. Unable to make drive, stop. Sorry, stop.’” Mary added the “sorry” herself.

  Jonas crushed the reins in his tightening fists. “All three of them?”

  “Seems so.”

  “Nothing left but the two Byerlys and me. Probably find them struck by lightning when we get home.” He looked at the other telegram in Mary’s hand. To Mary, it now felt even heavier. Sweat began to glisten on her hands as well.

  Lightning did strike the Byerlys in the form of the telegram, but Jonas was the one burning. He stared down both Hank and Early beside the empty corral. They were young men who were good workers and good company, out here in Texas from Tennessee to get away from the farm that was now calling them back.

  “I’m sorry, Mister Bartlett, I truly am,” said Hank. “But family duty has to come first.”

  Just as he always had, Early followed his big brother’s lead. “You do what you have to do for family.”

  Jonas’s tanned face gave way to red. “My family could lose this ranch.”

  “We feel awful, we really do.” Hank held out the telegram. “But Ma says Pa’s sick and the farm is in trouble.” He pointed at the small, unpainted barn as if it represented the family farm back east.

  “You know we’d stay otherwise,” Early added, one hand rubbing his day’s growth of beard as the other pointed northwest. “It ain’t like we’re running off to mine for silver.”

  Jonas grunted. He knew the two had a family duty. He knew that was the only way they’d choose farming over ranching. They were born to ride.

  “At least do this,” he said. “If you come across any hands while you’re riding east, send them my way.”

  To the Byerlys, it was like Jonas had kindly opened a door to let them out of the confrontation, and they ran through it. “We’ll do it for certain,” Hank nodded as he gave Jonas a quick handshake before turning away. Early called back as he followed his brother. “We’ll leave right now and send over anyone we see. You can count on us.”

  If I could count on you, you wouldn’t be leaving, Jonas thought despite his understanding that leaving was just what they had to do. Talking to him about it later, I couldn’t get him to remember exactly what he did as the men rode off. But Jonas was a contemplative man and I picture him leaning a tanned, muscular arm on the corral fence, staring ahead and seeing nothing but the worries in his mind. Over 600 head of cattle ready to brand and take to market. A remuda of horses ready to ride. He’d done everything right and had everything in place, and all he had to show for it was a list of cattlehands as empty as the corral.

  Chapter 2

  Without being conscious of it, Jonas had built the Bartlett ranch exactly as he was—sturdy, trim and efficient. The heavy-timber house had a kitchen and an area just off it that served as the dining room, living room, work room, parlor and anything else that involved an activity beyond sleeping. Mary had turned some old quilts into hanging blankets that separated the bedrooms from the main room.

  Inside the house was Mary’s domain, and now she and Katie worked to prepare a meal she hoped would soothe her husband’s worries. Setting the table, she peeked at the kitchen as Katie pulled biscuits from the oven. Gently, carefully, as if baked goods had bitten her before, Katie lifted a biscuit from the pan. Half of it stuck to the pan and the rest crumbled in her hand. Katie had learned plenty about cooking and keeping a proper household, but concocting a decent biscuit continued to elude her. Mary looked away with a smile.

  “I hope you didn’t make too many biscuits. We won’t need as much with the Byerlys leaving.”

  Katie shook her head and sighed back a dangling wisp of her blond hair. “Too many won’t be a problem.”

  Mary lit a lamp and placed it in the center of the pine table. The evening sun was setting and tonight was not a night for gloom.

  Katie salvaged as much of the biscuits as she could by placing the best ones on top of a plate, then looked at her mom with a curiosity that showed more was on her mind than a failed day and failed biscuits. “What makes them go?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Not just the Byerlys. Men. What makes them go away?”

  “Oh, lots of things.” Mary checked the coffee. Good and hot. “Runnin’ to something. Money. Runnin’ away from something. Sometimes not running at all, just lopin’ off to find adventure.” She wiped her hand on her apron and smiled at Katie. “Not your father, though. He’s made this ranch his adventure.”

  “Even he’s gonna be leaving.”

  “A cattle drive isn’t like leavin’. It’s earnin’.”

  Katie poured her glass of buttermilk and seemed to dream along with the swirls in her glass. “I know how I’d keep a man. Prudence showed me.”

  “I doubt that life lessons from Prudence will serve you well.”

  Setting her glass on the table, Katie dropped her chin a tiny bit and then gazed at Mary with wide, alluring eyes. “First, I look at him dreamy, then…” She batted her eyes. “Prudence says a man can’t resist the look.”

  Mary pulled off her apron and gripped it in one of the hands she held on her hips. “You act like that and the man’ll think you won’t resist, either. Don’t let me catch you flaunting yourself like that. Never. The only thing you’ll catch is the wrong kind of man.”

  Katie figured that since she’d spent all day saying the wrong things, she might as well keep going. “At least it’ll be a man.”

  “Will you h
ush? You’re only 16.”

  “Near 17. Besides, you were married when you were 16.” And with that thought now at the top of her mind, Mary’s sulky, man-hungry teen floated back to the dreamy-eyed romantic that Mary adored. “Tell me again how Pa swept you away.”

  The day’s heat still lingered in their bedroom, but it didn’t stop Jonas and Mary from holding each other, their combined wills serving as a fortress against the uncertain future. The bed filled the bulk of the room, and after so many years of having Katie just a quilt-wall away, they’d become adept at hearing each other’s whispers.

  “Used to be the problem was not enough cattle,” Jonas said. “Never not enough men.”

  Mary pressed her head against his strong shoulder. “They get tired of prospecting, they’ll come back.”

  “No time. We don’t leave by mid-July, risk bad weather up north slowin’ us down. Maybe wipe out grazing. Plus there’s the brandin’.”

  She hated to see his brow furrow. When things weighed on him, they weighed heavy and dragged him to low places. It troubled her less when Jonas was sick. An illness she could treat, but a burden like this couldn’t be lifted with a cold cloth or some herbs.

  On the other side of the hanging quilt, Katie lay still, straining to hear the whispers and wishing that she, too, had a way to lessen the burden. “I finally had everything in place,” she heard Jonas continue his lament, a type of talk she had never heard from him before. “Full herd. Good prices up north. Could’ve paid off the mortgage, bought you that dress and had something set aside for Katie.”

  Being in her dad’s thoughts brought a smile to Katie, who snuggled deeper into her bed, then froze as the bed frame let out a creak. They’d know she was awake.

  Jonas continued a little louder. “But it all fell apart faster than one of Katie’s biscuits.”

  “Well!”

  Mary’s voice knocked some dust from the ceiling timbers. “Katie, you go to sleep and keep your ears to yourself!”