Through Dust and Distance Chapter 16 Part 2 and Final
The Mallory Ranch
This is the twenty-fourth and final installment in a serialized story about Will Sturgis, a young hand looking for wages and maybe a bit of purpose. He joins a northbound cattle drive and learns fast that the trail is equal parts sweat, dust, danger and unexpected grace. If you like Westerns with heart and grit, saddle up. Will’s got a long way to ride.
It’s all there now! I hope you join Will on his ride north.
They rode further into Texas and Will noticed that fences dotted the horizon. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Somehow the land was closing in on them. Some day they might not be able to pass this way without asking somebody. When he was growing up he could see the benefit of a fencing your property to keep out others from moving in on their land, but now he saw it all different.
“We’re getting close,” Clara said.
A mile later they came over a rise, and Cutter stopped and pointed.
Will rode up beside him, and the scene below them spread out. A large white house with deep porches sat in the shade of pecan trees. There were two big barns with tin roofs and a bunkhouse set further back but well kept. There was a wide corral full of horses. And above the huge water tank, a windmill spun.
The yard was full of movement with nearly a dozen men visible. One carried feed sacks from a wagon; a few men worked a horse in a rail pen. Everyone was busy with something.
Will had imagined Clara’s home a dozen different ways, but none of them held up to the real thing.
“Mallory owns all this?” Tucker whispered.
“Owns half the county, if you count water rights,” Amos replied.
Cutter just said, “He runs stock proper. Pays proper, too.”
The wagon rolled down the slope. A foreman near the nearest corral spotted them and shouted toward the house. By the time they reached the yard, a man stepped onto the porch. He was tall and his hair was silver with streaks of iron.
Even Cutter sat a little straighter as they rode up.
“Cutter,” Mallory shouted across the yard. “About damn time.”
Cutter reined up and stepped off his horse. “We got delayed by rustlers and a fire but drove the herd in clean.”
Mallory’s eyes moved past Cutter to Clara. The whole hard set of him softened by half.
“Come here, girl.”
Clara was off the wagon before Dutch could set a brake. She ran to her father, and they embraced. It was clear to Will that months of worry could now be set aside.
“You kept yourself safe,” Mallory murmured.
“Had help,” Clara said.
To Cutter Mallory said, “I don’t forget that.”
Cutter nodded. He reached into his vest, pulling out a thick envelope of bank notes, and handed it over.
“Your herd’s sold. Buyer paid fair, and the tallies match.”
Mallory thumped the envelope lightly against his palm. “Good. You always bring ’em home right.”
Cutter looked toward Clara. “Your girl kept us fed. Fine as any trail cook I’ve had.”
Mallory smiled. “Knew she would.”
Now Mallory’s attention turned to Will.
He took Will in with a level, measuring look, boots to hat.
Will dismounted.
“This the Sturgis boy?” Mallory asked.
“That’s him,” Cutter said.
Mallory nodded once. “Clara’s letter got here three days ago. Says you’re dependable.”
That embarrassed Will worse than if she’d called him handsome.
Mallory stepped down from the porch. He didn’t offer a hand yet; he simply stood in front of Will, close enough Will could smell leather and tobacco, and waited for the boy to meet his eyes.
“I understand yer looking for winter work?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Because I’ve already got it set aside.”
He had a place for the winter. He hadn’t realized how much that had been weighing on him, until the weight was lifted.
“Thank you, sir,” he said.
Clara was trying not to smile, which somehow made it better.
“You take orders from me and my foreman Jennings. You work daylight to dark until the spring grass comes back.”
“Yes, sir,” Will said.
Mallory stuck out a hand now, big, calloused, confident. Will took it, and Mallory’s grip was strong.
“Welcome to Mallory Ranch,” he said.
Behind them, Clara let out a soft breath, one Will didn’t think she meant anyone to hear.
Cutter said, “We’ll water up and move on before dusk. Long miles yet.”
“You’re welcome at my table if you stay over,” Mallory replied.
Cutter shook his head. “Got men to get home. But I appreciate it.”
Mallory touched his hat brim to him, respect, real and plain. “Heard you might be driving for Bailey Brothers next year?”
“That’s the plan.”
Mallory said, “Good herd, good papers. Pay fair.”
“They said the same about you,” Cutter said.
Mallory grunted. “Would’ve looked all right carrying my brand.”
Cutter tipped his head. “Appreciate that.”
“Too late now.”
“Reckon it is. Maybe next time.”
The men shook hands.
Cutter turned to Will. “You winter good here. Come spring, I’ll send word of where to meet.”
“I’ll be there,” Will said.
The crew had begun drifting toward the windmill where Mallory’s foreman waved them in. Horses bowed heads to the trough. Relief ran down the line, animals and men both.
Cutter didn’t rush it. He gave the horses time to drink and breathe and the men time to stretch out muscles that had been locked to saddles since dawn.
The crew was tightening cinches and easing their horses away from the trough when Ortega drifted over to Will.
This was the part Will dreaded. Ortega had been like a big brother to him, but better, without the constant ribbing and aggravation. He held the reins of his horse as Ortega approached.
Ortega stopped and rubbed the pinto’s neck. Then he said, “You did good, Will.”
Will couldn’t remember ever hearing Ortega call him by his first name.
“Most green riders don’t learn, think they already know how cattle move, but you paid attention.”
Will swallowed. “You taught me most of it.”
That didn’t seem like enough after all Ortega had taught him, but that was all he could get out without choking up, and he wasn’t about to cry in front of all these people, especially Clara’s pa.
Ortega looked him in the eyes and said, “I just pointed and you followed. That’s all trail work is.” He pulled a carrot nub from his pocket and let the horse take it from his hand. “Keep listening to your horse. He’ll keep you honest.”
For once, the promise felt easy. “I will.”
“You ridin’ with Cutter next year?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Ortega turned and found his horse’s reins then climbed into his saddle. He pulled the horse around and said, “Trail’s easier the second time. Not softer, just easier to see where the holes are.”
“I’m glad I rode with you.” Will wanted to say more, but it didn’t feel manly to gush.
Ortega’s mouth twitched. “You say that now. You ain’t smelled my feet after a wet night.”
Will laughed. “Who says I ain’t already suffered that?”
Ortega laughed, actually laughed. Then he rode over to the others.
Tucker walked up then, grinning big, with his horse in trail.
“What’s so funny? Don’t recall ever seein’ Ortega laugh.”
“I told him his feet smelled worse than Dutch’s stew.”
Tucker barked a laugh. “Now I know you’re lyin’. Nothing smells worse than Dutch’s stew.”
“I heard that,” Dutch yelled.
The boys had a laugh amongst themselves then Tucker said, “Serious, I’m real glad we made the ride together. Even the bad parts.” He looked away for a moment then turned back. “Especially the bad parts. I wouldn’t’ve got through some of it without you.”
Will pushed his hat back a fraction. “You’d have managed.”
Tucker shook his head. “Don’t do that, Will. You kept me upright more’n once.”
Tucker reached out and Will grabbed his forearm. They squeezed once and let go.
“You take care of yourself,” Tucker said.
Will nodded. “You do the same.”
Tucker grinned. “I aim to.”
Cutter’s voice rose behind them. “Mount up!”
Tucker climbed up on his horse and touched his hat. “Try not to get boring.”
Will laughed.
Ortega touched his hat brim toward Will in that slow, deliberate way of his. “See you in the spring.”
Will touched his hat back.
Ortega turned his horse first, Tucker falling in beside him. The two rode off at Cutter’s signal, dust rising in a long, familiar cloud behind them.
Amos, Red, Reed, Green and Vega swung into their saddles and turned away. Dutch already had the wagon moving.
Will stood there until they disappeared over the hill. He hadn’t expected leaving them to feel like losing something.
Clara stepped closer as they rode off.
“You’ll like it here,” she said.
“I reckon I already do.”
The ranch yard grew quiet. It felt different from the trail, more settled.
“Pa said you’d be keepin’ your horse in the small corral near the barn,” she said. “I’ll show you.”
They walked together, and he tried not to think about how close they were, otherwise, his heart began to race.
The ranch was something. The fences ran in neat lines and were all kept up nice. The yard was clean, with no broke-down machinery in sight. Chickens clucked near the lean-to. Nothing was falling apart. And two barns? Hard to believe his luck.
The small corral sat in the shade of one of the barns, and it had a proper fence with rough cut lumber about two inches thick and ten inches wide and nothing sagged. The pinto lifted his head as Will opened the gate. Clara climbed on the first rung of the fence, watching the gelding nose around for something to chew.
“He likes you,” she said.
Will brushed his hand down the pinto’s neck. “I like him, too. He’s got sense.”
Clara laughed. “Not everything out here does.”
He looked over at her. The fading light caught in the loose strands of her hair, turning it golden. It suited her.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come back this far,” she said. “Most trail hands take their pay and vanish until spring.”
“Most trail hands weren’t offered work here.”
Clara nodded, eyes still on the horse. “Pa can use good hands for winter. But I’m glad it’s you.”
Will hoped she didn’t notice how much that affected him.
They stood there a long moment, sounds of the pinto chewing hay and a breeze turning the edge of Clara’s sleeve. There was no place on Earth he would rather be.
“You think you’ll miss it?” she asked.
He looked up at her. “The trail?”
She nodded.
Will thought on it… the long days, Cutter’s voice cutting through morning air, Ortega’s whistles, Tucker’s laugh, Benji’s complaints. Will had to swallow before he could answer.
“Yeah,” he said. “I reckon I will.”
Clara’s voice softened. “Me too.”
The idea they shared something there they didn’t have to name tied them together gave him something to hold on to.
She tapped the top rail with her fingertips. “Come supper, Ma’ll want to feed you twice what any man can eat. She’s like that.”
“I won’t argue,” Will said.
“You better not,” Clara said, with a big smile. “I should get back. You settle your horse, then wash up. Pa’ll want you at the table.” Then she stepped down from the fence.
“All right.”
She moved to the gate where he could see her and said, “I’m glad you’re stayin’, Will.”
He didn’t know how to answer that without saying more than he ought. So he tipped his hat, same way he would’ve on the trail, only gentler.
“I’m glad to be here.”
She held the smile for a moment longer before she turned toward the house.
His heart skipped a beat. Dang.
He looked around the ranch, the horses moving quietly in the far pens. Everything seemed to have a proper place.
Did he belong here? He couldn’t quite believe his luck. A place where he could work and learn, and if he played his cards right, maybe come back to. Thinking about a home made him think about his own family. Sam would want to hear about this place. About the cattle drive. About all of it.
He would write Sam a letter. There was so much to tell.
Will stroked the pinto’s neck once more. “Come on, partner. Let’s get settled.” It felt like he was saying that to himself as much as the horse.
The day bent toward evening. Lamplight glowed through the windows of the house.
Supper was waiting.
I've really enjoyed this book! I've read Westerns since I was in my teens, and this one has held up well. Thanks!