Part 11 (2/2)

I felt bad for Camdan Gow.

He was still on the Bar DD, doing ch.o.r.es. n.o.body talked to him. It ain't that they treated him like a prisoner, but more like they just pretended he wasn't around. Except for Mrs. MacDunn. She was always protecting him, keeping him safe, making sure he didn't hear what was being said about his daddy.

But Camdan wasn't deaf, wasn't stupid. He knew. He was just a good boy, didn't cotton to violence. Just like his old man.

The wind blew cold.

The morning they came, a couple of days after we turned the bulls loose, I was in the corral, working hard with a currycomb on Crabtown. His coat was a mess, just thick, unruly, like he was some rangy mustang running wild in the mountains.

”Major MacDunn!” Busted-Tooth Melvin called out, and I heard the pounding of hoofs. Well, I dropped that currycomb, scrambled up the corral, and just froze there, perched on the top rail, when Mr. Gow rode up with a half dozen men. They reined up near the main house, Tommy and John Henry closest to me.

Ish Fishtorn and a couple of boys walked from the bunkhouse, Ish holding that big rifle at the ready. Other men stayed by the bunkhouse, where they could fine shelter. Me? I had no place to hide. If folks started shooting, I figured I was dead.

Seemed like a month pa.s.sed before Major MacDunn walked outside, a double-action revolver in his right hand, c.o.c.ked, but the barrel hanging alongside his leg.

Camdan Gow ran from the bunkhouse, and n.o.body tried to stop him. He pulled up right beside his daddy, who looked as if he had aged ten years since last I saw him.

Mrs. MacDunn stepped through the doorway.

”Get inside, Blaire!” the major barked.

Mrs. MacDunn stepped out, away from her husband, defying him, and the major's ears started turning redder than mine ever did.

Then Lainie ran out of the house, stopping beside her mother. Even from where I was, I could tell they'd both been crying.

Time pa.s.sed. We waited for the war to commence.

As the wind blew cold.

Chapter Nineteen.

Mr. Gow made the first move, reaching inside the coat of his Mackinaw, stopping for a moment when Major MacDunn started to raise his pistol barrel. John Henry put his hand on the b.u.t.t of his revolver. So did a couple other of Gow's men, and Ish eared back the hammer of his Winchester.

I tried to swallow, but didn't have nothing in my throat but a dry, cold dread.

Mr. Gow's and the major's eyes locked, and slowly Gow withdrew a fringed elk-hide pouch, which he tossed at the major's boots. I heard the jingle of coin when the pouch landed in the dirt.

”I owe you, William, for damages to your fence. I trust you will find that sufficient.”

Looking a bit surprised, Major MacDunn lowered the revolver, but kept it c.o.c.ked, kept his finger in the trigger guard.

”I had nothing to do with that wanton destruction, William. These two . . .” He shot a quick glance in Tommy and John Henry's directions. ”Well, they took matters into their own hands. For their own reasons.”

Mr. Gow wet his lips. John Henry and Tommy just stared ahead, not blinking, barely breathing.

”I pray we may discuss matters in private, William. As civilized men.”

”Get off my land.” I could barely hear the major. His fingers tightened against the revolver's b.u.t.t.

Mrs. MacDunn gasped, and the major glared at his wife, then looked back at Mr. Gow with cruel eyes.

”Your land?” Mr. Gow let out a hollow laugh. ”This so-called MacDunn Empire is open range. You're nothing more than a general manager, serving at the pleasure of the board of directors, and the shareholders, of the Dee and Don Rivers Land and Cattle Company. I have written a formal complaint to Sir Alistair Shaw in Aberdeen. You might not have a job by spring.”

”My land.” The major lifted the revolver again, ignoring his wife's plea. ”I said get off.”

”We have always had an understanding, William. This is open range.”

”Which I control.”

”I do not detest barbed wire, William. You have every right to fence off some pasture. I understand that Granville Stuart has done the same in the Judith Basin. Barbed wire fences are no longer only for farmers. Many Texas ranchers are protecting their water holes, some pasture.”

”Get out of my sight!”

”For G.o.d's sake, William. I pray for peace. After the fire, after . . . well . . . I sent Camdan back here, after arduous discussion with my wife, hoping his presence would alleviate any tension . . . .” He took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. ”William, we were friends in Scotland.”

”This is not Aberdeen!”

”The range you chose to fence is range that we agreed the Bar DD and the Seven-Three Connected would share. I needed that land after the fire. You knew that. You could have . . .”

”This is not about land, you fool!”

Mr. Gow gripped his saddle horn, his face masked by bewilderment. His horse pranced nervously. Another one of his riders-the colored man who had driven Mrs. Gow to the Bar DD to get help during the fire-let his hand drop near the rifle in his scabbard.

Mr. Gow's Adam's apple bobbed.

”Please, William. Allow us to talk privately.” He glanced at Camdan, then at Lainie. He made himself look away from Mrs. MacDunn.

I guess the major realized Mr. Gow wasn't a fighting man. Suddenly he laughed, lowering the hammer on his Bulldog revolver, shoving it inside his waistband.

”Tristram, I don't blame you at all. Your own wife's turned crazy as a loon.”

Now, Mr. Gow's face flushed.

”It's lonely country,” the major said, grinning without humor. ”It is not like Scotland.”

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