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A COWBOY'S LOVE

by Leigh Smith


Chapter One

Marsh Tucker was riding along Black Canyon looking for strays. A thunderous rainstorm the previous night had scattered cattle hither and yon. Even though most were already rounded up, there were still some calves missing. Marsh and two other riders were tasked with finding them and bringing them back to the herd. He'd been at it since sun-up and had yet to come across any. He hoped his fellow riders were having better luck.

Looking toward the horizon one last time before heading back, he spotted something shiny. He knew it wasn't one of the 'doggies,' but his curiosity wouldn't allow him to turn back until he discovered what caught his eye. There was nothing in this part of the country that was shiny - except gold - and he knew it wasn't that.

Tugging left on Shadowhawk's rein, he rode toward the object. Getting closer, he noticed there wasn't just one object, but a trail of debris. His horse, Shadowhawk, began fidgeting, and Marsh took heed. He started scanning the landscape for signs of an ambush. In this part of the country, you couldn't be too careful. Paying attention to Shadowhawk's warnings had kept him alive on more than one occasion.

Marsh halted and pulled a spyglass out of his saddlebag, a holdover from his days as a scout for the cavalry. There was a stagecoach on its side, the team nowhere in sight. The coach's wheels were still turning, indicating it probably hadn't been that long since the accident. The wind was blowing and great clouds of dust were hanging in the air. Not seeing any signs of anyone in the area, he put away the spyglass and continued to move closer to the overturned coach, his eyes constantly scanning the surrounding area for any signs of movement. Shadowhawk stepped cautiously through the spilled contents of bags and trunks. There was a male body laying on the ground to the right, his leg at an odd angle; another man, a few feet further on who appeared to have a head wound; and a little further, an older woman, her skirts all askew, lying close to the coach. He approached the stagecoach and stepped down from his horse. The driver was slumped over in the seat, but there were no signs of bullets holes or arrows. Opening the coach door he spied another man draped over a woman. The man in the coach was alive but unconscious, probably due to the huge bump on his head. He felt the woman's wrist for a pulse and was suddenly taken back when she let out a terrifying scream.

"Calm down Miss, I'm here to help."

He looked into eyes filled with fright. He moved the unconscious man off her and asked if she was hurt. Still looking at him as if he were the devil himself, she looked down at herself and seemed surprised that she was in one piece. She shook her head.

"Will you be okay while I see to the others?" he asked.

She shook her head again. Marsh grabbed his rifle and went to inspect the two men lying on the ground. The one with the head wound was dead, but the man with the broken leg was still alive. Marsh went back to the coach and checked the older woman and the driver. They were both dead.

He shot off three rounds in a row - the ranch signal for distress - and hoped they would be heard. There was no way he could get these people back to the ranch with just Shadowhawk. Wetting his neck scarf from his canteen, he handed it to the woman.

"Try putting this on that bump on his head, while I go check on the man with the broken leg."

Seeming to get her wits she asked, Mrs. Olson?" He shook his head. The girl understood, and tears began forming and silently spilling down her cheeks.

Finding a long sturdy stick, he grabbed the rope from his saddle and walked over to the injured man. The man's eyelids were fluttering, and Marsh figured it was a sign he was beginning to come around. He'd hoped he would still be unconscious while he set his leg; it would be easier on both of them. Just then, he heard Shadowhawk nicker and looked in the direction of his warning. A cloud of dust indicated riders were heading his way. He quickly ran back to the coach. Shouting to the girl to get down on the floor and stay there, he went to the back of the overturned coach, hoisted his rifle to his shoulder, and waited.

As the riders came closer, he called Shadowhawk to him so he could get his spyglass. Crouching down and peering through the cloud of dust, he recognized some of the Yavapai warriors and they were leading horses, probably the escaped team. He put down his spyglass and rifle and stood, waving to his friends.

He called to the girl and told her everything was okay. She stuck her head out of the doorway and screamed when she saw the Indians. Telling her not to worry didn't help - she continued yelling hysterically. Finally, he went to the coach and pulled her down into his arms, cradling her trembling body.

"Calm down, they're friends of mine. They'll help us." He stroked her back as he said the same words over and over. When the men arrived at the coach and greeted Marsh by name, the girl finally calmed down.

White Cloud, Walking Bear, and his son dismounted and looked around. White Cloud tied the reins of the horses to the wagon wheel while Marsh explained what he found. The girl spoke, saying that something must have spooked the team because they suddenly speeded up and began careening out of control. The door had opened, and when the one fellow tried to get it closed, he fell out. The other man also fell out the door, and shortly after that the coach rolled over. She didn't know what had happened to Mrs. Olson, but the man in the coach tried to protect her by covering her with his body as they rolled. The next thing she knew, Marsh was standing over her.

White Cloud assisted Marsh in setting the man's leg, while Walking Bear and his son scoured the area for telltale signs of what happened. Finding nothing that would deny the events of the girl's story, they set about digging graves. Hours went by as they buried the dead, gathered what was salvageable and prepared to haul the injured back to Winding Creek Ranch.

As they left the canyon, they were watched by the lone rider perched at the top of the butte.

The ride back to Winding Creek Ranch was slow even with help and extra horses. The girl, Grace Callahan, rode double with Marsh, while the other man, Jiles Pendleton, rode with Walking Bear. White Cloud hauled the travois carrying the man with the broken leg, while Byron McIntosh and Walking Bear's son led the team of horses. It was almost dark when they reached the ranch.

Bull Johnson was sitting on the porch smoking his nightly cigar when he saw the riders approach. He called to his wranglers to assist. Marsh Tucker was the first to dismount, then helped Grace down; the others followed suit.

Bull Johnson, owner of the Winding Creek Ranch, was a wily old curmudgeon with a heart of gold. He had been around these parts for forty years and was known far and wide as a tough but fair man. He stepped off the porch and shook hands with his Indian friends, then looked to Marsh for an explanation.

Bull called to Maddy, his housekeeper, to get rooms ready for his guests. When White Cloud and his friends departed declining Bull's invitation to stay. He thanked them for their help. The others were led into the dining room while Maddy quickly sliced some leftover roast and bread to serve to them. That, along with some cookies would have to tide them over until morning.


Winding Creek Ranch was built little by little over the years. When Bull first arrived in the territory, he was a young groom with a pretty young thing for a wife. Sally helped Bull cut down and haul logs to build their first cabin. Until it was finished, they lived in a soddy, so when their first home was finished it was like a palace to them. It consisted of one large room used as kitchen and living room and a small bedroom in the back. They lived in that small cabin until their first child came along.

The years had been good to them, and Bull had grown a sizable herd of cattle. That, along with the rounding up of Mustangs and selling them to the Army, had increased their coffers. Bull built Sally the house she always dreamed of having; two stories, with lots of bedrooms, a dining room, big kitchen, parlor and a separate place for laundry and bathing.

Unfortunately, Sally never enjoyed her newly finished and furnished home. She was pregnant with their second child when she came down with a cold and fever. Within days she grew steadily worse, and by the end of the week, she and the baby were gone. Bull was left caring for a three-year-old boy and a ranch he no longer cared about. It was only the thought of a motherless boy that kept him going. Somehow, he got through the next few years with Brody by his side.

When Brody was ten, Maddy Tucker and her family were heading west when Maddy's husband took ill and died. Having to find a way to make a life for herself and her son, she answered Bull Johnson's ad looking for a housekeeper. Maddy and Marsh Tucker moved into Winding Creek Ranch and had been there ever since.

Marsh and Brody were the same age and became fast friends - more like brothers than friends. To Bull, Marsh became as much of a son to him as Brody, and he was devastated when both his boys went off to fight a war that didn't make any sense to him. When Bull received word that Brody had been killed, it was Maddy's loving care that saved him. When the war was over, Marsh couldn't bring himself to return to the ranch. He felt responsible for Brody's death and couldn't face Bull. He joined the Cavalry as a scout, and it wasn't until he contracted a case of measles and was brought to the post hospital nearest Winding Creek Ranch that he made peace with himself and sent a message to his mother.

Maddy and Bull made the trip to Fort Verde as soon as they received the message. They brought a wagon in case Marsh couldn't ride, but they had no intention of going back to Winding Creek Ranch without him. Marsh was in no condition to argue - he was as weak as a kitten. He resigned his position with the Army, climbed into the wagon and moved back home.

Sometime during his recovery, Bull talked with him about Brody's death. Bull wanted to hear about Brody's last days, and when Marsh finished the story, both men were teary-eyed.

"Boy, I don't want you to think that I ever held you responsible for Brody's death. He was a grown man and made his own decisions. This home is as much yours as it was his and I don't want to hear any more crap about it. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Bull was not a man to show sentiment. Nevertheless, the hug he gave Marsh brought a flood of emotion to Marsh. He knew by that action more than Bull's words that he could finally let go of his guilt about Brody's death. He missed Brody, and life at the ranch without him would take some getting used to, however, if Bull could do it, so could he.



© Leigh Smith
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.