"A True Frontier Town"
Part 12
Sam Clarkson seldom went to the bunkhouse where the ranch hands stayed on the property. If he wanted to talk with somebody, he sent word to stop by the house. Luke had been at the house having morning coffee with Sam and Marion. When Luke left, Sam asked him to send the young Austin to the house, so he could speak with him.
"I surely will Sam, I am glad you see things the same as I do. Send somebody instead of Austin," said Luke, heading back to the bunkhouse.
"He doesn't know you, does he pa?" chatted Marion, his wife, picking up empty coffee cups. "You don't agree with Luke, at all."
"Pay no attention. I know what needs doing in the blacksmith shop. I don't cotton to a foreman like Luke, changing my plans. Besides, nobody is going to Wyoming, we are going instead to Lola, Kansas, it's closer to Dodge."
"Lord, don't I know it," Marion mumbled, walking away with the breakfast dishes, returning to the kitchen.
Sam leaned back, sipping on coffee, gazing out the window, at the vast acreage of land he turned into a successful horse ranch. Say what you will, Sam was the boss.
Other than work, Austin and Burt had never been together, Austin didn't cared for his smart-ass attitude, and spiteful comments, tossed at people.
Burt was not dumb, on the contrary, he could rope and ride, understanding a great deal about horses and cattle. Burt's progress was always good, If only he would keep his mouth shut. The ranch hands ignored Burt's blabbering, so he stopped trying to impress them. His talking was a bunch of lies anyway.
Like Austin, Burt was young, rugged, and good looking. With a body to go with the years, he would brag about the women who tried hankering down with him, offering to fuck him silly.
If that story is true, Burt is a hot press-stud, for anybody searching for lust. He sported a good-looking butt, and a bulge that moved when he became excited. What else is required for a sweaty romp in a hot sticky barn?
The person who hung around Burt mostly was Jack. However, Jack seemed, a bit quiet, and on the delicate side. For some reason, Burt liked him.
Having a rip-roaring town like Dodge, a few miles away from the Clarkson Ranch, supplied cowboys with beer, booze, and baby doll women. Being young and alive was good for the straight cowpokes.
Sam stuck to his decision to send Austin and Burt, to Lola. The boys had little to do other than pick up the saddle and bring it back to Dodge. Sam had worked out details with the saddle maker, and that was that.
As wild, a town as Dodge could be, Austin and Burt, would be there only long enough to catch a train for Kansas City, and then on to Lola. Austin complained (quietly) but the boss is the boss. The pay was excellent, and by turning down Sam, he could find himself back with his uncle Gus. Austin could not let that happen. Here on the Clarkson Ranch, he had friends, sex, and plenty of money; he wasn't stupid.
The following day Austin Blake and Burt Anderson, rode together into Dodge City. They were friendly and talking, because they had to be.
"What are the plans when we get to Dodge," inquired Burt riding next to Austin.
"Here are the instructions that Sam handed me, let's check this thing out. It must have been Marion, who wrote this. The dang thing is too smooth for Sam's shaky writing, he continued.
"What does it say? inquired Burt, being a much nicer person.
"We horseback to Dodge, take the train to Kansas city, then change trains for Lola Kansas Instructions say, pick up the saddle, and bring it back to Sam. Everything is written down here, wanna read it?" Austin asked Burt.
"Nope, I'll follow your lead, if we screw up, I'll say it was your idea."
"How hard can this be, it's a train ride for a saddle," barked Austin.
"I still think it's nuts," Burt added, with Austin agreeing. They each carried cash from Sam to pay for what they needed, including the saddle.
It was noon when they rode into Dodge. They left their horses at the livery stable for Gus to keep until they returned.
"We have time to kill," said Austin. "Our train doesn't leave until 5:20 pm, what shall we do?"
"This is a wild town even during the day, I could go for a beer. The saloon is open, yuh wanna go?" suggested Burt.
"Shore, sounds good."
They walked into the saloon with already a crowded bar with cowboys and buffalo hunters taking up space. Burt wasn't watching where he was walking and bumped into a redneck cowboy spilling his mug of beer.
"Dang drunken cowpoke, just watch the blasted thing you're doing. You spilled my drink. I don't like your looks – you one of them range boys, always looking for trouble?" he said to Burt.
Burt being Burt, didn't apologize, instead he ran his mouth with snarky remarks.
"Oh, geezus, no," thought Austin. "I'm sorry sir," began Austin, my brother has poor eyesight, hoping to avoid a fight. Austin thought by saying Burt was his brother, it would soften the tension, but it didn't help in the least.
"Your ma should have taught this bug-eye shithead some manners," continued the angry cowboy. "He is buying me a drink or I'll kick his ass around the room and toss what's left out the door."
"If you weren't in my way blocking folks with your fat ass, I would not have knocked into you. Buy your own damn beer," replied Burt.
Burt was too cocky to grasp how things worked in a hell raising, gunsling town like Dodge. Folks were shot or injured for saying less all perfectly legal, and Austin knew it.
Austin was about to toss some money on the bar to buy the cowboy and his friends drinks when he grabbed Burt by his neck. Burt's hat fell to the floor, which Austin picked up. The cowboy lifted Burt by his belt, like a sack of potatoes, and threw him out the door. Burt landed in the dirt, and Austin helped him to his feet.
"Okay boys, come with me," said a man wearing a badge. Austin thought he must be a sheriff or a marshal.
"We didn't do anything; it was that redneck cowboy who started the ruckus. I bumped into him, spilled his beer, and he got all nasty, wanting to fight. I never touched him, I'm not a fighter, I'm a lover," admitted Burt.
"Interesting – we can talk about that later," said the officer.
"Were we going?" asked Austin.
"To jail, we have an ordinance in Dodge, NO FIGHTING - NO SHOOTING, except for self-defense. Fighting is always from drinking, so we keep the varmints overnight and released them in the morning.
"But we ain't drunk! You don't understand sheriff."
"I'm a deputy, the sheriff is out of town until tomorrow. Get in there boys," turning the lock with an iron key on a large ring.
Burt sat quietly on a crummy dirty looking bunk as Austin tried bargaining with the deputy. "Can we toss around a few words?"
"Shore, start tossin."
"We are ranch hands taking the 5:20 train to Kansas City for our boss Sam Clarkson. We have to be on that train today, the morning is too late." Austin pleaded, glaring at Burt for the trouble he caused them.
"There must be something we can do to set this straight." Austin stated planting ideas for the deputy to think about.
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Mark Sherwood sherwoodm94@yahoo.com