Rampage of the Mountain Man

Chapter Five

Big Rock, Colorado

As the two cowboys dismounted in front of a saddle store, one of them rubbed his behind.

“Damn, that’s the hardest, most uncomfortable saddle I ever sat in,” he said. “I’ll be glad to get mine back.”

Don’t know why you brung it in to get repaired anyway,” the other cowboy said as they tied off their horses at the hitching rail. “As far as I could see, there wasn’t that much wrong with it.”

“The fender was tore.”

“Well, hell, it don’t hurt nothin’ to have a tore fender. All a fender does is make a saddle look good. Don’t have nothin’ to do with the way it sits.”

“Maybe it don’t mean nothin’ to somebody like you. But I’m particular about my saddle. You can ask anyone and they’ll tell you that LeRoy Butrum is particular about his saddle.”

“Yeah, if you ask me, you’re old-maid particular,” the other cowboy said.

“And you don’t never care what yours is like. I swear, Hank, if I hadn’t been around when you was born, I wouldn’t even believe you was my brother.”

The two men stepped up onto the porch, then pushed the door open to go inside. The store smelled of leather, saddle soap, and neat’s-foot oil. There was one particularly handsome saddle on display.

“Lookie here,” LeRoy said, rubbing his hand over the saddle. “He’s got my saddle out here for the whole world to see.”

“Did he fix the fender?” Hank asked.

LeRoy put his hand on the piece of leather that was attached to the stirrup strap.

“Yep, here it is, as good as new,” he said.

The proprietor came up front then and, seeing the two cowboys standing by the saddle, nodded at them.

“Boys,” he said.

“Mr. Pogue,” Hank replied.

“Tell me, Mr. Pogue, why you got my saddle out front like this?” LeRoy asked. Then he smiled. “Prob’ly ’cause it’s the prettiest saddle in town, huh?”

“Not exactly,” Pogue said. “I had it out here to sell it.”

“To sell it?” LeRoy responded loudly. “What the hell do you mean you had it out here to sell it? Mister, this here ain’t your saddle to sell.”

“You said you would pick it up within a week,” Pogue replied. “It’s been a month.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have the money then. But I’m here to pick it up now.”

“Good, that will make both of us happy,” Pogue said.

LeRoy gave Pogue a five-dollar bill. Pogue just stared at it for a moment.

“What is this for?” he asked.

“What do you mean, what is this for? This here is for the work you done on the saddle.”

“That will be twenty-five dollars,” Pogue said.

“What?” LeRoy and Hank shouted as one.

“The cost of the repair to your saddle is twenty-five dollars.”

“The hell you say!” LeRoy replied. “Mister, you can get a brand-new saddle for twenty-five dollars.”

“Not like this one.”

“Well, you didn’t make this one, and I already paid for it once. All you done was put on a new fender.”

“And I’m chargin’ you twenty-five dollars for that,” Pogue said.

“You can charge all you want, I ain’t payin’ it,” LeRoy said angrily. “Just take the damn thing off.”

“That’ll be ten dollars,” Pogue said.

“Ten dollars? What for? I told you to just take it off. I don’t want it,” LeRoy said.

“The ten dollars is for the aggravation,” Pogue said.

“I ain’t payin’ you no ten dollars for nothin’,” LeRoy said. He jerked the fancy leatherwork fender off the stirrup strap and tossed it toward Pogue. “There, I done the work for you. Come on, Hank, let’s go.”

LeRoy put the saddle up onto his shoulder and started toward the door.

“Stop!” Pogue called at them. “You’re stealing that saddle.”

“You can’t steal what’s already yours,” LeRoy said without looking back toward Pogue.

Fortunately, Hank was looking toward Pogue, because he saw the saddle-shop proprietor hurry toward the counter and reach for a shotgun. Quickly, Hank’s pistol was in his hand, pointing toward Pogue.

“Don’t you try nothin’ dumb now, Mr. Pogue,” Hank cautioned.

“You are stealing that saddle.”

“We ain’t stealin’ it,” LeRoy said. “Soon’s I get ten dollars, I’ll come back and pay you, even though I don’t think I ought to have to.”

“Help! Someone, help!” Pogue started shouting. “I’m being robbed!”

LeRoy put the saddle down while he started removing the old saddle from the horse he had ridden.

“Help! Sheriff! Help!” Pogue continued to shout.

“Will you shut up?” Hank yelled at Pogue.

Both men were stopped then by the sound of a pistol being cocked. Turning, they saw one of the deputies standing out in the road, pointing his gun at them.

“What’s going on here?” the deputy asked.

“Thank God someone answered my call,” Pogue said. He pointed at the Butrum brothers. “These men are stealing this saddle.”

“I ain’t stealin’ it,” LeRoy said. “This here saddle belongs to me.”

“You brought it in for repair, and you did not pay for the repair,” Pogue said. “According to the law, until you pay for the repair, the saddle belongs to me.”

“I undid the repair,” LeRoy said.

“That doesn’t matter. I already did the work.”

“I think you two boys better come with me,” the deputy said.

“Come on, Deputy, this here is just a misunderstand-in’, that’s all,” LeRoy said. He reached for his saddle.

“No, leave the saddle and come with me. Both of you.”

Pogue waited until the deputy had them halfway to the jail before he stepped outside to retrieve the saddle.

“Will you lookie there?” LeRoy muttered. “That son of a bitch got my saddle.”

“It isn’t your saddle until you have satisfied the debt owed against it,” the deputy said.

Neither Sally, Pearlie, nor Cal were aware of the drama that had just played out at the saddle shop when they rolled into town later that morning. Big Rock was a busy place with two trains at the depot, one passenger and one freight. The passenger train was taking on passengers for its run to the east, and even though the engineer was at rest, the fireman wasn’t. He was working hard, stoking the fire to keep the steam pressure up.

In contrast to the fireman’s toil, the engineer was leaning out the window of the highly polished green and brass locomotive, smoking a curved-stem pipe as he watched the activity on the depot platform. He was serene in the power and prestige of his position.

Passenger trains were called “varnish” by railroad people because, unlike the roughly painted freight cars, the passenger cars were generally beautifully finished. The conductor stood beside the string of varnished cars, keeping a close check of the time. The freight train was sitting over on the sidetrack, its hissing relief valve opening and closing as the steam pressure was maintained. The “varnish” had priority over the main line, and not until it departed would the freight be allowed to move back onto the high iron in order to continue its travel west.

Two stagecoaches and half-a-dozen carriages were also sitting at the depot, either having just delivered or waiting for train passengers. Out in the street behind the depot, a horse-drawn streetcar rumbled by.

This was what greeted Sally, Pearlie, and Cal as the three came into town to buy supplies. Sally was driving a large wagon and Pearlie and Cal were mounted, but riding slowly to keep pace with the wagon.

“Whoo-ee, this sure is a busy place this morning,” Cal said as he saw three loaded freight wagons rumbling by.

“It always gets busy when a train is here,” Sally said.

“Miz Sally, you know what we ought to do?” Pearlie asked. “We ought to make arrangements with the railroad to carry the cattle up to Sorento. That way we wouldn’t have to drive ’em none.”

“My goodness, Pearlie, do you have any idea how many cars it would take to move three thousand cattle?” Sally asked.

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, if you could get thirty cows to a car, it would take a hundred cars,” Sally said. “That would be at least five trains. And because there is no track direct from here to Sorento, the trains would have to go almost a thousand miles to get there. That means it would take nearly as long to ship them up by train as it would to drive them…and the shipping cost would eat up about a quarter of the gross.”

“How’d you come up with all that?” Pearlie asked. “You’re awfully smart to figure all that out.”

Cal laughed. “Maybe if you would think about something other than eatin’ all the time, you would be able to come up with things like that too.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Pearlie replied. “You didn’t know none of that stuff neither.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

Sally stopped the wagon and the two young cowboys halted their horses. They sat in the middle of the street while traffic passed back and forth around them, paying little attention to them.

“Boys,” Sally said, scolding them. “Would you please stop arguing? I’ve got business to attend to, and you do as well. Remember, Smoke wanted you to find some drovers who are willing to make the drive with us. You do understand that, don’t you?”

Pearlie and Cal looked at each other for a moment. Pearlie was the first to speak.

“Yes, ma’am, we understand. It’s just that we were wonderin’…” He let the sentence hang.

“You were wondering what?” Sally asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Miz Sally, that seems to me like an awful big responsibility for me’n Cal to handle,” Pearlie said. “I mean, they’re goin’ to be workin’ for Smoke. Seems like he should be hirin’ ’em. What if we don’t get the right kind of men?”

“Pearlie, you are going to be the foreman, and Cal, you are going to be right under him. Everyone we hire will be working for the two of you, just like they are working for Smoke and me. You’ve been around Sugarloaf for a long time now. You know what kind of men will be good for the job.”

“But…” Pearlie began.

“But nothing,” Sally said. “Smoke has every confidence in the world in the two of you, and so do I. Now, go hire us some good men. You can do that, can’t you?”

Pearlie nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Yes, ma’am, I reckon we can do that. Right, Cal?”

Cal nodded solemnly. “Yes,” he agreed. “We’ll get men you’n Smoke will be proud of.”

“I know you will,” Sally said. She slapped the reins against the backs of the team and the mules strained into the harness, pulling the wagon forward.

“When you’ve hired the men, come down to the general store,” Sally called back over her shoulder as she drove away. “I should have the wagon loaded by then.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Pearlie replied. “Come on, Cal, let’s me’n you go get us some cowboys.”

“You got ’ny idea where we should start?” Cal asked.

“Not directly. But town’s a busy place today. I’m sure we’ll run into someone, somewhere,” Pearlie replied.