greyhounds had suffered the same fate. Lord Ernle lay flat on his back, dead. There was no sign of the wolves.
Mary, a careful rider, showed up a little later.
“Oh, Charlie, my god,” she said.
An old, short, very dirty man was bending over Lord Ernle; he carried a short knife and had been skinning a skunk.
“Why it’s Caddo Jake!” she exclaimed. “It’s his shack I use for my school.”
“Skunks are plentiful along the Canadian,” Goodnight reminded her. “That’s about all Jake traps.”
A hundred yards west they found a little trail down the caprock; they went down it carefully and hurried to the bodies.
“Who was that fool?” Jake asked. “He came flying off that bluff and nearly hit me.”
“An Englishman,” Goodnight said. “Has he moved?”
“No, and he ain’t going to—neck’s broke,” Jake said.
“Now I don’t have a rich partner,” Goodnight thought.
Mary had begun to cry.
- 26 -
The minute San Saba saw Benny Ernle’s body, which was brought back in a wagon, she knew that her life was in mortal peril—and Flo’s life too. The butler, the farrier, the cook, the blacksmith—all the men who worked for Benny were looking at her silently. She had been Benny’s favorite for a long time. She had ordered them all around, been queenly, sharp, harsh as the occasion demanded it. Now if they could catch her she would pay, and not just with the normal lusts. Old Hamid, who took care of the dairy goats, was said to have been a torturer in his youth. San Saba didn’t want him practicing his ancient skills on her body or Flo’s.
The Goodnights were her only hope and she at once approached them.
“Mrs. Goodnight, I’d like to come work for you and I’d like to bring Flo. I assure you we’ll be a useful pair, and if we stay here we’re lost.”
Mary looked at the men ringing the courtyard: she saw what San Saba meant. The men were looking at the two women, the one not exactly black, the other not exactly white.
Charles Goodnight didn’t see the looks. What he didn’t see was why, having lost one partner, he should acquire two women.
“Hire them to do what?” he said stiffly. “We don’t even have a house yet.”
“Yes you do, there’s this one,” Mary said. “It’s on your land—you could just claim it.”
“Claim this pile, why we’d rattle around in it like gourds,” Goodnight said; but, in a minute, he saw that the idea had some merit.
“We could start our college in it, and maybe a courthouse too. I guess we’d have to round up a town of sorts before it would work.”
“Come to think of it, there’s Mobetie,” Goodnight said. “It’s small enough to be readily moved.”
“We can sew and cook and launder, and I could even help you teach school. I have fluent Spanish, which you Texans will be needing pretty soon.”
Mary Goodnight clapped.
“See, Charlie?” she asked. “Just yesterday I heard you telling Benny that you’d soon need somebody to speak Mexican so you can keep track of the vaqueros on the long drives out of south Texas; and now here’s someone showed up.”
“Besides all that I’m pretty good at breaking horses,” San Saba said.
“A woman break horses?” Goodnight said, startled yet again.
“Yes, an old gaucho taught me,” she said. “Benny owned a million acres of the pampas, and more cattle than you’ve got in Texas.”
“What? I doubt it,” Goodnight protested.
“It’s true though,” she said. “I came to love the pampas—they’re not unlike this country here. And the beef was excellent.”
“I’ve heard that, but I’ve not yet had time to visit,” he said.
“I am no hand at breaking horses,” he added. “Most of my remuda is half broke and dangerous to the cowhands.”
“Try me then, Mr. Goodnight—I can do what I claim.”
Mary hugged San Saba, who hugged her in turn.
“Let’s hire them, Charlie—I’m tired of being the only respectable woman in this part of the country.”
It
Mary, a careful rider, showed up a little later.
“Oh, Charlie, my god,” she said.
An old, short, very dirty man was bending over Lord Ernle; he carried a short knife and had been skinning a skunk.
“Why it’s Caddo Jake!” she exclaimed. “It’s his shack I use for my school.”
“Skunks are plentiful along the Canadian,” Goodnight reminded her. “That’s about all Jake traps.”
A hundred yards west they found a little trail down the caprock; they went down it carefully and hurried to the bodies.
“Who was that fool?” Jake asked. “He came flying off that bluff and nearly hit me.”
“An Englishman,” Goodnight said. “Has he moved?”
“No, and he ain’t going to—neck’s broke,” Jake said.
“Now I don’t have a rich partner,” Goodnight thought.
Mary had begun to cry.
- 26 -
The minute San Saba saw Benny Ernle’s body, which was brought back in a wagon, she knew that her life was in mortal peril—and Flo’s life too. The butler, the farrier, the cook, the blacksmith—all the men who worked for Benny were looking at her silently. She had been Benny’s favorite for a long time. She had ordered them all around, been queenly, sharp, harsh as the occasion demanded it. Now if they could catch her she would pay, and not just with the normal lusts. Old Hamid, who took care of the dairy goats, was said to have been a torturer in his youth. San Saba didn’t want him practicing his ancient skills on her body or Flo’s.
The Goodnights were her only hope and she at once approached them.
“Mrs. Goodnight, I’d like to come work for you and I’d like to bring Flo. I assure you we’ll be a useful pair, and if we stay here we’re lost.”
Mary looked at the men ringing the courtyard: she saw what San Saba meant. The men were looking at the two women, the one not exactly black, the other not exactly white.
Charles Goodnight didn’t see the looks. What he didn’t see was why, having lost one partner, he should acquire two women.
“Hire them to do what?” he said stiffly. “We don’t even have a house yet.”
“Yes you do, there’s this one,” Mary said. “It’s on your land—you could just claim it.”
“Claim this pile, why we’d rattle around in it like gourds,” Goodnight said; but, in a minute, he saw that the idea had some merit.
“We could start our college in it, and maybe a courthouse too. I guess we’d have to round up a town of sorts before it would work.”
“Come to think of it, there’s Mobetie,” Goodnight said. “It’s small enough to be readily moved.”
“We can sew and cook and launder, and I could even help you teach school. I have fluent Spanish, which you Texans will be needing pretty soon.”
Mary Goodnight clapped.
“See, Charlie?” she asked. “Just yesterday I heard you telling Benny that you’d soon need somebody to speak Mexican so you can keep track of the vaqueros on the long drives out of south Texas; and now here’s someone showed up.”
“Besides all that I’m pretty good at breaking horses,” San Saba said.
“A woman break horses?” Goodnight said, startled yet again.
“Yes, an old gaucho taught me,” she said. “Benny owned a million acres of the pampas, and more cattle than you’ve got in Texas.”
“What? I doubt it,” Goodnight protested.
“It’s true though,” she said. “I came to love the pampas—they’re not unlike this country here. And the beef was excellent.”
“I’ve heard that, but I’ve not yet had time to visit,” he said.
“I am no hand at breaking horses,” he added. “Most of my remuda is half broke and dangerous to the cowhands.”
“Try me then, Mr. Goodnight—I can do what I claim.”
Mary hugged San Saba, who hugged her in turn.
“Let’s hire them, Charlie—I’m tired of being the only respectable woman in this part of the country.”
It
Similar Books
