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Empty Arms
Chapter III--Friday The next morning was uneventful. The riders awoke and arose, dressed, and prepared to head out on their respective chores, except for Cody who was resting on his belly in his bunk.
“Hey. You gonna sleep all day?” Noah poked the bleary-eyed boy in the ribs.
“Aw, I’m not due back till this afternoon.”
“But lucky you. Here you are a day early, and fully capable of tending to your share of the work.” Jimmy grabbed a pillow and smacked the back of Cody’s head with it.
“Alright, enough. I’ll get up.”
“Not very convincing, there” Buck added, shaking his head.
“You’d better start looking lively if you want breakfast.” Lou reminded him.
“OK! Alright!” Cody replied, rolling off of his bed.
Breakfast was an unhurried affair, no riders were expected to head out today, but they were sure Rachel would have plenty for them to do. Lou, who was generally quiet, was utterly non-communicative at the table, and Rachel risked several glances at her, trying to read the young woman, but nothing revealed itself. Her appetite seemed to have picked up just slightly from the previous night. Jimmy was the first to finish and grabbed his gun belt and a sharp looking hat before heading out the door to tend to a project that Teaspoon had assigned to him.
“That’s sure a fine hat, Jimmy. New?” Remarked Cody.
“Yeah, I got it while you were gone. Just saw it and thought I’d pick it up.”
“Hm, ya’ might finally be developing a sense of style” the blond replied, tilting his head to the side with a look of mocking . . .
When are you gonna get one of those? signed Ike.
Cody simply rolled his eyes and shook his head. Jimmy gave a brief chuckle as he headed out, and Cody’s statement changed suddenly. A plan was forming in his mind, and Teaspoon read him like a book. “That boy has altogether too much time on his hands” he thought to himself, for nearly the hundredth time since he had laid eyes on the cocky kid.
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Later that morning, after finishing his chores, Cody set about his plan. He couldn’t seem to keep his mind off of Lou, but he thought he had found just the thing to occupy his time. In the shade of the bunkhouse porch, Cody was working diligently, in deep concentration and writing. . .something.
“What is he doing?” Buck asked.
“Who, Cody? God knows.” Replied Noah
“Well, it can’t be good,” said Buck, unconsciously reaching up to touch his medicine pouch.
“Ah, he keeps things around here interesting.”
Lou passed then, carrying a sack of feed on her right shoulder. “Aren’t things around here interesting enough?” she said darkly. She didn’t look up, and Noah stared at her briefly.
“Well, she’s been just as sweet as sugar today. Do you know what’s up with her?”
“Not really,” Buck lied smoothly. “She’ll come out of it.”
“Well, let’s hope so, before Kid gets back. Things have been better lately, but with her in a mood like this. . . who knows.”
When Cody finally spied the victim of his latest plot, he shook his head at his good luck. Jimmy’s shirt and hat were placed on a barrel in the corner of the tack room, and he was washing his face in the basin. When he lifted the full basin and leaned down to pour it contents over his head, Cody saw his chance. He grabbed the hat and, in its place, left a large scrap of paper. He wasn’t sure it would actually work, Jimmy was always on guard, or so it seemed. He wasn’t certain that it would even be possible to sneak up on him, but he was always up to a pleasant surprise. Cody ran off to put the final touches on his project and then scamper to his lookout to watch and enjoy the fun.
Jimmy felt refreshed and invigorated after his brief wash and began whistling “Buffalo Gals” as he rung his hair out and dried off. He then ran an old comb through his dark locks. He thought of his mother briefly, “she would want to cut it.” He gave himself the briefest of “once overs” in the small looking glass that was suspended on the wall, and, satisfied with his appearance, turned to gather his belongings. He stared curiously at the paper for a minute before Jimmy really understood what it meant.
It read: “If you want to see your precious hat again, look for the next note under the stairs of Rachel’s porch. The Hat Rustler.”
He was far from amused and looked up and scanned the scene for he presumed culprit. Lou was in the round corral trying to train a skittish, new colt to lead, and he approached slowly.
“Lou, you know where Cody is?”
She looked up at him, “No, he should be around somewhere, but I don’t know.”
Jimmy nodded in reply and kept his eyes peeled as he approached the two-story home where Rachel stayed. Before he knelt down, he looked all around, making sure there was no one to witness the proceedings. He pulled himself slightly under the stairs on his forearms and spied the piece of paper weighted down by a mediumish rock. As he slithered out from under the porch, he realized that someone was coming out on the porch.
“What are you doin’ Jimmy Hickock?”
Jimmy misjudged where he was in relation to the porch and lifted his head quickly. Rachel heard a sharp, but dull thud.
“Aw, sh-oot!” He grunted. Jimmy climbed to his feet, and looked up to Rachel. “Cody.” He said holding out the piece of paper.
“Of course,” Rachel replied, she didn’t even bother to read the note. It didn’t matter what it said, she’d hear all about it later. She descended the steps to head out back to the small vegetable garden that now contained only potatoes and carrots. She braved a smile at Jimmy who was dusting himself off and gingerly reaching up to feel for a bump on his head.
Jimmy pursed his lips together and drew them into a firm line.
He read the new note. “Well done! You are on the trail to great treasure. You will be closer when you check under the rock that sits at the entrance of your second home-the sweat house. H.R.”
Ok, enough was enough. Jimmy wasn’t gonna play this game. Who knew how many little trips he would have to make until he found his new acquisition. He was a man with a mission, he was going to find the “Hat Rustler.” From his perch, Cody snickered to himself.
The station certainly wasn’t a large area, and it only took him 10 minutes to ask each of the other riders if they had seen the prankster. Jimmy didn’t reveal the purpose of his search, but Noah did ask Jimmy why he wasn’t wearing his hat on such a bright day. Jimmy pretended that he didn’t hear and went once again to question Lou. When he first saw her, she was mildly scratching the colt behind its ears with a far-off look on her face. He decided not to ask her again, and with an aggravated exhalation, set off toward the sweat-lodge.
The next clue was right where Cody has indicated that it would be. The goose-chase took him, to the grainery, to the bunkhouse, and back to the tackroom, where he found yet another note in a saddle-bag, hanging on the wall. Cody had judged Jimmy’s patience perfectly and this note was to be the last.
Jimmy’s jaw clenched as he unfolded the note, but relaxed when he read that it would be the final one. “You have proved your worth, great adventurer. You will find your hat flying in the barn. H.R”
Jimmy didn’t know what to make of that, but stepped into one large, airy section of the barn. He felt foolish as he looked up, but sure enough, his hat was suspended in the air, nearly 8 feet above his head. He had no idea how Cody had got it up there, but he almost had to appreciate the prankster’s ingenuity . . .almost. The hat’s stampede strap was tied together with a piece of fishing line that was wrapped around a hook in the wood of the barn’s ceiling. He shook his head in frustration once again, much to the delight of the onlooker perched in a small corner of the loft.
Jimmy first considered knocking down the hat or breaking the line with one of the pitchforks that stood erect in the tool rack. He grabbed one and after working with it briefly, realized that it wouldn’t be long enough to do any good, even if he jumped, and he wasn’t gonna be caught looking that foolish. “Jumping up and down with a pitchfork,” he snorted, “cousin of the devil himself,” and he smiled slightly. Wait, there was the barrel in the tack room. Jimmy rolled the barrel to a spot beneath the hanging hat, and once he felt it was relatively stable, climbed upon it. He then raised the pitchfork, and wobbling slightly, attempted to bat gently at the hat. It was harder to maneuver the tool than he had anticipated and more than once he had to lower it and rebalance himself. He wasn’t always real sure on his feet; for that reason, he had never enjoyed high places, and balancing on the small pedestal of the barrel was testing his abilities. After some work, he managed to wrap the strand of line around one of the pitchfork’s tines and tried to put enough of a slant to the pitchfork to make it break the line. The line did finally snap and the hat fell to the ground. Jimmy didn’t want to make any sudden moves to grab it as it dropped. Once the line had broken and the pitchfork no longer worked against the light resistance, Jimmy thought he felt the barrel tilt slightly, and put his weight further on his right side. When he shifted his weight, he felt a sudden lurch and immediately saw the error of his ways. The barrel went out from under him. Jimmy gave the pitchfork a push away, not wanting it to fall on him, and found himself on top of his treasure.
Cody could no longer hold his laughter and burst out in an applause of cackles and hoots. Jimmy’s ire was great, and he jumped up, only to feel a shooting pain in his right ankle. He nearly fell again, but his pride held him up. “Cody, CODY!!! You’re gonna pay for this.” The laughing rider did feel slightly ill at ease, but not anxious enough to overcome the amusement he felt at site he had just witnessed. “If I could get up there to you!” he threatened. Cody only then recognized that Jimmy had injured himself, and that did temper his glee somewhat. “Damn it. . .Kill myself getting this thing”, he muttered under his breath as picked up his flattened hat. He looked up to stare menacingly at Cody while hobbling out of the barn. “You’d better take care of the barrel and pitchfork, Cody, DO YOU HEAR ME?”
When Teaspoon walked into the bunkhouse he found Jimmy trying to pull off his right boot.
“Let me help,” suggested Lou, making a movement toward his foot which was propped up on a bench in front of him.
“Back!”
“Ok, ok.” Lou snickered, “Might have to cut that boot off soon, if you don’t manage to pull it though.”
At that, Jimmy, groaned loudly and made a giant effort, pulling with force at his boot. He clearly had convinced it to obey, and after releasing it from his heel he tilted it and slipped it delicately from his foot before removing his sock. He shot a glance to Lou who seemed somewhat self-satisfied. Teaspoon looked with a curious respect at the ankle, which was already displaying a myriad of stormy colors.
“I don’t think you’re gonna’ be riding with that.” Jimmy gazed at his foot, his statement similar to one Teaspoon had seen on a young boy who had showed up at the jail, requesting help in the search of his lost dog. Teaspoon attempted to stifle a chuckle, but to no avail, “Will you look at that, ‘bout swoll up to the size of your head. How’d you do that?”
“Nevermind.” Replied Jimmy lowly.
“I’ll take your ride, Jimmy” offered Cody, in an attempt to extend the peace pipe. Teaspoon hadn’t noticed him, standing in the corner.
“Good.” The injured rider responded, and Cody slunk out the door.
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Lunch was generally a “catch as catch can” affair, and it wasn’t unusual that one or two of the riders might miss it and grab left-overs so it didn’t seem too odd when Lou didn’t show up for the meal. Rachel, however, concerned about her younger friend asked if anyone knew where Lou was in order to take her a sandwich.
“I’ll take it to her, Rachel. Just sit and eat, you hardly get a chance to do that around here
sometimes.” Cody reached out his hand for the sandwich wrapped in a ragged napkin. Rachel tried to hide her surprise. She certainly knew that Cody didn’t often choose to remove himself from the table before necessary, but didn’t want to hurt his feelings by revealing her mild shock.
Cody had been more concerned about Lou than he wanted to let on, and while his escapade with Jimmy’s hat had been something of a distraction, he still felt a distinct burden for the female rider. Cody found her in the hayloft and offered her the sandwich. “Lou, you need to eat something.” He said simply. She took the sandwich and nibbled at it half-heartedly. “Thanks.”
“How you hanging in there?”
“Fine.”
“Lou. .” he stopped, having no idea how to continue, how to express his concern about how she was acting.
“Thanks for the sandwich Cody, I’ll just finish it, then I need to get back to work.” The conversation, if it could be called that, seemed to end just there. Cody rose smoothly to his feet and climbed out of the loft, cursing himself for not having planned out what to say in advance.
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“What’s that?” asked Noah
They turned to see a rider coming on a silver gray mount.
Monte? There’s not supposed to be another rider out till tomorrow, responded Ike.
“Agh, I’ll take it” replied Noah, hustling toward a saddled sorrel. There was always one horse ready should just such a need arise.
Ride safe, Noah Ike signed, hoping to still be in shot of Noah’s peripheral vision. The rider on the silver horse charged in and handed the pouch to Noah who took off into the countryside. Surprise runs were uncommon, but becoming less so with the past election and talk of war that seemed everywhere.
Rachel had come out to the yard, wiping her hands on a towel and called to the new arrival, “Come on in, I can feed you. You must be hungry.”
“Much obliged ma’am, but I’m just gonna head back to town, got some uh, business to attend to.” With a grimy hand he tipped his hat before turning toward Sweetwater at a casual lope.
Rachel and Ike both shrugged their shoulders and Ike grinned. “Ike, I’d like to send you and Lou to town for some supplies this afternoon.”
I’m sorry he signed Teaspoon still wants me working with that mustang. It’s just no good but he insists it’d be a good addition to the herd. Rachel nodded, thinking of the previous days where Ike and Noah as well as the other boys had come in sore and stiff after time with the stubborn animal.
“Well then, do you know where Buck is?”
I think he’s trying to repair one of the seams in his saddle, I told him just to take it into town, but. . .you know Buck.
Rachel nodded in appreciation of the comment.
Rachel found the young Kiowa doing just as Ike had anticipated. He had a leather needle and some fine leatherworking thread and was working it thought the holes where the previous seam had been. “Buck, would you and Lou head to town to fetch some supplies for me?”
“Sure, I can.” He replied, looking up from his project. “But I could go with Ike, give Lou a little rest, or Cody maybe.”
“Well, Ike is to work with that mustang and Cody. . . I just feel he ought to have the last day of his vacation.”
Buck didn’t want to insist and said, “Yeah, that’s fine, I’ll fetch her and we can head out.”
They could have both ridden in the buckboard, but for some reason, incomprehensible to the housekeeper, Lou had adamantly insisted on riding Lightning along beside. Rachel was becoming concerned about the girl’s unresponsiveness and the way she was dealing with whatever was bothering her. Lou chose to ride because she didn’t want to risk the chance that Buck would bring up the events of the evening two days prior, and she was determined to ride outside the distance of casual conversation. The day was cool but bright--another beautiful afternoon, but neither Buck nor Lou noticed it. Buck couldn’t help but be thankful when they reached the town and pulled up in front of Thompkin’s store. They dismounted and happened to catch the coos and giggles of a group of three young women who were admiring a baby. They were dressed in colorful cotton dresses and the one who was apparently the mother of the child beamed cheerfully as the other two vied for its attention by stroking its cheek or playing with its hand.
“He looks just like Mark.” One offered merrily.
“But he’s got my nose.”
“Oh, can I please hold him?”
Lou stopped without meaning to and watched intently as the women passed the bundle from one set of arms to another. She seemed then to catch herself with a start and pulled her hat lower over her eyes before cutting in front of Buck to enter the store two long strides ahead of him. She walked briskly to a far wall and pretended to be occupying herself looking though the goods on the shelf. Buck busied himself gathering a couple of items on Rachel’s list and then went to the girl who was staring miserably at the shelf. He tore the list in half and handed one portion to her. She took it without looking at him, and turned to gather the items. He wasn’t trying to be unkind, he could have gathered the supplies himself, but he hoped this would occupy her some.
It took just over half an hour to make their purchases and Thompkins, for once, let them escape without a snide comment about any of the residents of Sweetwater Station.
Buck grew weary of the silence on the trip home and hummed something staccato and in a minor key. Lou strained her ears to hear what must have been an Indian song of his childhood. When he stopped, she said, “I liked that, what was it?”
“Oh, it’s called something like ‘Winter becomes Spring’ it sounds more poetic in Kiowa though.”
“It was nice.”
This was the first positive thing that Lou had said in nearly two days. He wanted to kindle any kind of joy she had as much as he could and began the song again, slightly louder this time, and continued with different melodies until they reached the station.
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After dinner, Lou went out to the barn where Buck was again working intently with his saddle. His patience really amazed her sometimes. She walked deliberately, making a bit of noise, so that she wouldn’t startle him, knowing that he could get extremely engrossed in small tasks.
“Buck?”
He turned to her “Yes, Lou?” she noticed that he set down the needle, as if to give his undivided attention. She stood and gazed at him a moment. She enjoyed the kind, but not condescending statement on his face. Lou took a breath and began, “I just came to ask you. . .Um, about what I said. . . the other night. I don’t really think you’d tell anyone, but I just wanted to ask you not to, anyways.”
Buck turned his head to stare out of the tack room momentarily then stood up and approached close enough to rest both hands on her shoulders. He looked at her fixedly, with a concern and seriousness that seemed perfectly juxtaposed. “I won’t tell. I just want you to be o.k. Maybe it will help if you talk to Rachel, about that night, about what happened before. . .” he paused and dropped his hands, looking as if he were at a loss for what to say next. “I won’t tell. But Lou, you need to be able to talk to someone--you can’t go on like this. You know that.”
Lou just stared at him blankly, and Buck wondered if she was even hearing his words. Suddenly, he saw the tears that had crept to her eyes. She turned her head and blinked. “Thanks” she said hoarsely, before heading back toward the bunkhouse.
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