Western Fiction posted February 26, 2018 Chapters:  ...5 6 -7- 8... 


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An unwanted, and dangerous, stranger rides onto the Bar JS

A chapter in the book Pecos Valley

Chapter 7: Cottom

by Brett Matthew West



Background
A Western full of calamity and a wistful but prevailing human spirit.
Cast of Characters:

Wyatt - young cowboy for the Bar JS ranch and narrator of this tale

Verne Alexander and John Shelton - co-owners of the Bar JS ranch

Patch Murphy - unexpected cowboy sleeping on the Bar JS ranch porch

Gunther McCune - cook for the Bar JS ranch

Tad Holden - cowboy for the Bar JS ranch

Scarred Choc'late Charlie - runaway slave who has ridden with John Shelton and Verne Alexander for fifteen years

Ben Cottom - a psychologically unbalanced, yet exceptionally charismatic vigilante whose moral compass did not always point to true north

***NOTE: The POV of this tale is 1st Person Omniscient, not 1st Person Limited.


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Because he never wanted to miss seeing the sun rise, Verne was a short sleeper. He enjoyed being outside to catch the first light of breaking day. The chaparral flats were lit up by the red eastern sky. A nearby bush was filled with little diamond rainbows as the sun touched the dew.

Mr. Shelton stepped out the door of the tumbledown house and pulled his shirt on. Getting up early and feeling awake was one talent he'd never developed. He noticed Tobiano tethered to a juniper tree by the corral.

"What's Patch Murphy doing here?" he wanted to know.

"Didn't ask his business," Verne replied, "all I do is try to have fun and enjoy the meager existing we do here in this calamitous hole we stuck ourselves in."

"We came to Pecos Valley to make money," Mr. Shelton reminded Verne.

From my place at the breakfast table, I heard them discussing matters. Course, their talk weren't nothing new. I'd heared it all before.

"John, you don't like money," Verne told him, "I've known you for more than thirty years and all you've ever done in all that time is spewed in the face of every rich man you've ever known."

Mr. Shelton sat at the table. Gunther stumbled around the stove attempting to cook some vittles.

"Wake up, Wyatt," Verne told me.

I must have dozed off. Most mornings, I too had a hard time waking up. Mr. Shelton shook my shoulder and I roused.

"If you fall over at the table you're gonna poke your eyeball out with your own fork," Verne warned me.

Gunther spilled coffee grounds into the Mearns' eggs he fried. This infuriated Verne, who preferred orderly meals. 'bout that time, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Tad came 'round the corner of the barn. His morning water passing routine complete.

Tad let loose a bowel howl that thundered off the hills. We wondered how something that little could make that much smell? He plopped down at the table and tied on his feedbag. For his puny size, Tad could out eat all of us, except maybe Verne.

His morning peace ravaged for the day, Verne repined, "If a fine woman ever stumbled onto this ranch at this time of day she'd be revolted!"

None of us disputed him. The smell of Gunther's frying bacon urged Patch to join us. His being on the ranch bewildered me a mite. Instinctively, I reached up and tried to make my cowlick lay down. I knowed Patch had been up the trail a time or two. My great ambition was to drive cattle to Cheyenne. I didn't believe I could ever be what Mr. Shelton was, but being a top hand like Patch weren't out of reach. I liked studying how Patch did things.

"Mornin', Patch," I gave him a friendly greeting when he sat down next to me.

"Howdy, Wyatt," he replied.

Patch never treated me like a young'un the way Mr. Shelton and Verne done. Gunther brought the fried eggs and bacon, along with some fatback, to the table. He liked to call it ruckenspeck, said that's the German word for salt pork. I didn't care. I ate it.

Turning to the ranch boss, Patch said, "Howdy, Mr. Shelton."

He got a nod in return. Food always brought Mr. Shelton to life. He planned the day's work 'round bites. It astonished Mr. Shelton that the Bar JS could occupy the wranglers from sunup to sundown every day.

"Reckon you're goin' to Dodge?" Mr. Shelton asked Patch.

"Hope to," came Patch's answer.

Mr. Shelton looked Patch over. He was amply built, rangy as a rail, and a good rider. Patch was someone Mr. Shelton could use if he ever drove his own cattle somewhere. The notion had been inside Mr. Shelton's head for a time. He'd even mentioned the thought to Verne more than once. Verne laughed him off.

"You're plum loco, John. We've forgotten everything we need to know to drive cattle," Verne would scoff when the talk came up.

"I ain't," Mr. Shelton countered.

Seeing Patch put the notion in Mr. Shelton's mind again. He didn't cater to spending his remaining years on well digging or rundown ranch repairs. He knew a good herd would mean good money.

"Are you plannin' to ride with someone?" he asked Patch.

Patch decided to feel Mr. Shelton out and replied, "Nope. Nary a one. Got something in mind?"

Verne studied Mr. Shelton hard, "Aye, God, John. You hear what you're proposing?" he asked out loud.

"We're going to Aqua Prieta tonight and look around, make up our own herd. If Patch wanted to wait a day or two, might have work for him here," Mr. Shelton replied, his mind made up.

Caving in, Verne replied, "Suppose we might drive'em over to Yuma, but, that ain't enough work to keep Patch steady all Summer."

Verne's tone was somber. Mr. Shelton had decided and there weren't no changing him. Like it or not, he'd scrounge up some more like Patch and they'd be on their way to Cheyenne. Maybe even Idaho.

"Wish Charlie would get back," I commented swallowing my eggs whole.

"He'll be back this morning," Mr. Shelton told me, "ain't been but four days since I sent him to Maricopa."

"Mr. Shelton, if you meant what you said I'd be inclined to stay on a day or two," Patch stated.

Mr. Shelton stepped away from the table. He cast a glance down the dirt stagecoach road that led into Pecos Valley. He didn't seem to hear Patch's remark but was distracted by something he seed off in the distance. Two riders were coming east toward the Bar JS.

"Verne. come here pronto!" Mr. Shelton said.

"I'm eatin'," Verne replied though the act was obvious, "if it's Choc'late Charlie, I knowed who it is."

"It's Charlie all right and he ain't alone," Mr. Shelton remarked, "who he's drug along is an old amigo of yours."

Curious as to who was coming, I was a step behind Verne when we reached Mr. Shelton. Charlie strattled Domino like he was born on him. The other rider rode a cinnamon mustang. It took a mere moment for Verne to recognize him. He could tell by how he fit the steed.

"Aye, God, John. That's Ben Cottom!" Verne stated.

Suddenly, I was numb, stiff as a board blowed in a twister.

(End of Part One)


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Excerpt from Pecos Valley (Part Two - Cottom):

Mr. Shelton placed his arm tightly around my shoulders. In a warning tone he told the stranger, "You can't have Wyatt, Ben. Ride on out of here while you still can. You ain't welcome here. But, the boy stays!"

Glancing down at me from the saddle of his horse the stranger replied, "You read me wrong, John. I don't want the boy. From where I'm at, looks like you and Verne done a right proud job nurturing him the last twelve years. Much obliged."

Ben Cottom was a psychologically unbalanced, yet exceptionally charismatic, vigilante whose moral compass did not always point to true north.

"What do you want, Ben?" Mr. Shelton demanded.

"Same thing you always have, John," Cottom told him, "justice. It comes in many shapes and sizes."

Mr. Shelton's right hand slipped down to the butt of his pearl-handled .45. The stranger's hand went to his gun.

"For Wyatt's sake, don't draw on me John. Ain't no need to see who's faster. You won't clear leather!" Cottom warned Mr. Shelton. Weren't hard to tell ice water run through his veins. Then, efficaciously, he said, "I come in peace. No need to get all riled up, nor for bloodshed. It's time to bury the hatchet."

"What do you want, Ben?" Mr. Shelton asked again. His hand remained on his gun, "I know you didn't return back to Pecos Valley after all these bygone years for no social calling. What are you running from?"

(All of this will be explained in Part Two. So, stay tuned!)

SPECIAL NOTES:

***Part One has been dedicated to character development because I wanted strong characters for this tale.***

***Part Two will delve into the meat and potatoes of the tale.***

***For 77 more Member Cents, Chapter 5 is still up for review for 2 more days. Just go into my portfolio and pull it up. Simple as that.***








Recognized


Mearns' eggs - the eggs of a species of quail found in Arizona






Symmetrical Motion, by Paul G., selected to complement my tale.

So, thanks Paul G., for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my tale.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.


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