Cherokee by Giles Tippette

next day I put it up to him. I told him about what the cattle market had done and I begged him to come back with me. Of course he didn’t want to, as well fixed as he was. But I reminded him it was our chance to make the dream come true we’d left Georgia with. We could own the biggest ranch anybody had ever seen. All I needed was him and about ten cowhands and we could make a sweep through the country and arrive in Galveston with a thousand head. But he wouldn’t do it. I said I didn’t have the money to hire the hands. I could see he must have made some cash with his saw, and if he’d come in with me we’d clean up. Well, I stayed around a few more days, eating his grub and drinking his whiskey, but he wouldn’t budge. He finally said that what he’d do, me and him being old friends from when they laid the chunk, what he’d do was he’d loan me the money to hire the cowhands. Of course I didn’t want to do it, hadn’t come there for charity, but he piled five hundred dollars on his kitchen table in twenty-dollar gold pieces and it weakened me. Weakened me until I done it. I took the money and I went to San Antonio and I hired the cowhands. First one I hired was Tom Butterfield. And of course I’ve already told you the story of how Tom and I started the ranch, about that first big drive, that first payday. So there it is, son, there’s the real beginning to the Half-Moon ranch.”
    I looked at him, confused. “But you said you stole the money.”
    â€œI did.”
    â€œHe loaned it to you.”
    â€œI never paid him back. That makes it the same.”
    I sat back and looked at him. Either he was pulling my leg or he wasn’t telling me all of it. I said, “And this is what is weighing on your conscience, owing some man five hundred dollars for thirty years or whatever it is? This is what you want me to go through all this silly rigamarole for? Carry up not five hundred dollars, but twenty-five thousand dollars in gold? On horseback? And deliver it as your substitute because I’m your eldest son?” I leaned toward him. “Howard, have you reckoned you’ve raised a fool?”
    He looked uncomfortable again. “Justa, I’d just as soon not tell you the rest.”
    â€œAnd I’d just as soon not make that damn fool trip. Especially by horseback.”
    He seemed to kind of collect himself. “Charlie came after me not long after I got back. We were right in the middle of the cattle roundup and he showed up one day.”
    â€œWhat for?”
    Howard looked at that far-off object he’d been studying through most of the conversation. “Come to get what belonged to him.”
    â€œHe came for his money that soon?”
    His voice got an angry note in it. “How the hell do I know, damnit! He came, that’s all. And there was a showdown between me and him.” He flipped out his hand. “Right out yonder, about where that far barn stands. That was close to where my dugout was. I was still living in it.”
    â€œAnd he came for the money he’d loaned you before you even made your drive to Galveston? That don’t make a bit of sense. He was a cattleman. He would of knowed you didn’t have his money then, that you would have paid some of it out for supplies and to your hired hands. Tell me the truth, Howard. What the hell happened?”
    â€œI told you, there was a showdown ’tween him and me.”
    â€œOver the money?”
    â€œNo. I said it weren’t over the money.”
    â€œThen what the hell did he come all this way for?”
    â€œSomething that belonged to him, that’s what for.”
    â€œAnd he thought you had it?”
    â€œI reckon.”
    â€œBut it wasn’t the money?”
    â€œHell, Justa, he had just loaned me the money. He’d of knowed I couldn’t pay it back that soon.”
    â€œThat’s what I just said. What I want to