Chapter 2.
The next few months were a time of getting acquainted and learning new things for everyone involved with Marty Holtzinger, and it all started right away.
Early the next morning, after Marty moved into the big house on the H B ranch, Bart Bolton sat alone on the front veranda, drinking coffee, and staring off into the valley below. John Diamond, a cup in his hand, joined him. “Do you mind if I sit here with you, Mister Bolton? It looks like a pleasant place to welcome the morning.” Bolton nodded at a chair and murmured, “Sit on down.”
After several minutes of silence, Bolton harrumphed and sat up in his chair. He looked over at Diamond and started to speak, then turned away. A second time was more successful. “Diamond, I don’t know you, an’ I got no right to ask you for nothin’, but, well….” He hesitated, coughed again, and went on, “Marty is, well, she’s a female…I mean, well, ah ….” He stopped again, and again found a way to restart. “Look, Marty seems to trust you and Miss Deane. I don’t know what happened back on the trail out here, but you could help me… uh, her… get sort of adjusted here, if you know what I mean.”
John Diamond didn’t look at the big old man, but put his coffee down and stretched his legs out in front of him. He pulled two cheroots from a leather case and held one out to his host. Bolton took it and looked it over. He eventually, after watching Diamond, cut the end with his pocketknife and lit the cigar. “Thanks.”
“You are certainly welcome.” John drew the smoke deeply, exhaled, and said carefully, “Miss Deane and I discussed this very thing last evening. We were about to ask if you would object to us staying on a week. Not only for Marty’s sake, but for ours, as well.”
“Yours? Why?” The big man looked frankly doubtful. Diamond sipped coffee and took another drag on the thin cigar. “We, Miss Deane and I, have become quite attached to Marty. She is a fine young lady and she held up to the trip without complaint. More so, I might add, than many of our fellow travelers did. We want to see her settled and happy before we continue. Also, I have a step-daughter only a couple of years older than Marty, and Miss Deane has a daughter just her age and a son of sixteen in schools in New York City.”
Bart stared at John Diamond as he finished speaking. When John was done, Bolton said, “Never figured you for a family man, Diamond. You ain’t got the look.”
John laughed. “I never considered myself a family man, either. Not until two years ago. I married a widow with a daughter and have become quite respectable. To this day, no one is more surprised by that fact than I.” His face was split with a wide, happy smile. “Besides”, he continued, “both Miss Deane and I are thoroughly tired of traveling, and, while I cannot speak for her, my bed was wonderful, and the food is excellent.”
Moments later they were joined by Frisco Deane and Margaret McGuire, the woman from town who Bolton had asked to come out to stay with them. Mrs. McGuire began by saying, “Good morning, Gentlemen”, as John and the old man both rose to their feet. “ Miss Deane and I will be needing some things from the store for Marty, if she’s to stay with us, Bart. I will be needing a few things for the kitchen, as well. May I also tell Mister Morrissey that while his cooking may be sufficient to keep cowhands from starving, it is in no way suitable for young ladies?”
Bolton smiled for the first time that morning. “No, Ma’am, YOU tell him. Just give me time to get some boys out with the cattle, because when he hears that his yellin’ is gonna start a stampede for sure.”
She smiled sweetly up at the big man. “No he won’t. I promised to teach him how to bake on the trail. He thinks I’m an angel sent just for him.”
They all laughed as Bolton told the ladies to go into town and get whatever they needed. “Have Benson put it on my bill. Is Marty going with you?” Having assured the men that Marty was indeed going, the ladies went to secure a wagon. Bolton stood and walked to the edge of the porch and whistled. Down by the bunkhouse three of the men who had been in town the day before turned as one and walked quickly over to the veranda. When they got there, Bolton made introductions.
The first man, a tall, efficient looking Mexican with a wicked scar on his chin and a wide mustache, was introduced as “Emiliano Jose Guadelupe Maria Escobar. Call him Segundo or Melio. He’s the foreman and ranch manager here.”
Next was an older hand. “This here is Perry Whitaker. Perry’s the blacksmith, vet, harness maker, and people patcher-upper, along with everything else he does.”
He turned to the last man, the youngster that had been in the café the day before. “This is Jack Thorn. Jack is hunter, scout, and all around top hand.” He turned to Perry and told him to get the ladies to town and back. The man scurried off to comply and Segundo leaned against the nearest post. Bolton looked a Jack Thorn. “Jack, I need you to do something a little out of your line. I ain’t tellin’ you you hafta do this, but I’m hopin’ you will.”
His voice was controlled, but still a deep bass rumble like far off thunder. The kid didn’t say a word, but stood waiting.
“Jack, I need someone I can trust to watch after my grand daughter, keep her out of trouble, see she learns the ropes around here. You’re as good as I got, an’ besides, you’re nearer her age than anyone else here. More’n that, Jack, I know I can trust you to keep her safe.”
Jack Thorn looked down at his boots for a long time. When he looked back up at Bolton, his face was a mask of misery. “But, Boss, I don’t know nothin’ about girls. I mean, I don’t know NOTHIN’ about girls. I don’t know how to talk or act around ‘em, don’t know what they want, what they think…”
Diamond interrupted with a laugh. “If you ever figure out what a woman wants or thinks, Mister Thorn, come and see me. We can write a book together and get very rich selling it to men just like us.” Everyone but Jack saw the humor in this. At last he swallowed, coughed, and, still looking at his boots, replied, “Okay, Boss, I’ll give it a shot. Don’t you go getting’ all mad at me if it don’t work out right, though, ‘cause like I said, I don’t know NOTHIN’ about girls.
John Diamond noticed an immediate change in the men of the H B ranch. Within a day their language had improved in at least two ways. The profanity was reduced to a minimum and their grammar got better. He also noticed a marked upgrading of personal hygiene and attention to personal dress. He and Frisco Deane smiled and said nothing.
On the fifth day Diamond walked behind the big combination barn and smithy. He had asked if there was someplace where he might practice his ‘marksmanship’ and was directed to this place. Moving without sound, he found himself abruptly facing Jack Thorn’s six-gun.
Easy, son. I didn’t mean to startle you. I wasn’t aware that anyone else was back here. I was told by Segundo that it would be acceptable to do some shooting. “
The short, ugly Army Colt swept back and slid effortlessly into its holster. John Diamond noted the amazing speed of the boy’s draw, and filed the information away for future reference. “Sorry”, the youngster muttered. “I wasn’t expectin’ nobody, either. I was just about to do some practicin’ myself.”
A half-hour later, John Diamond had seen enough to know that Jack Thorn was as good a natural talent with a six-shooter as he had ever seen. He made a decision on his way back to the room that had been provided for him. He carefully unpacked a bundle from his small traveling trunk and laid it on the bed. He unwrapped the parcel and set the pieces in a pile, took out a compact cleaning kit and set to work.
Following dinner Diamond asked Jack Thorn to join him outside for a moment. The kid warily followed the older man onto the veranda, where John sat down next to an object wrapped in a cotton cloth.
“Jack, I have been watching you. I think you are a good man. I know you have great skill with a handgun, and suspect it is also true of any weapon you pick up.” The boy stood stoically looking down at Diamond. “You have more than skill. You have judgment that is rare in someone of your age, truly of any age. When we first met, you were ready, but not ‘proddy’, not on edge. I thought perhaps that you didn’t know any better, but earlier today you held your fire when I surprised you behind the barn. You were very fast, and you were ready. You were not, however, overly excited nor nervous. That is rare even among more seasoned men than you.” He stopped and peered at the young man before him, standing so calmly, watching. Finally, John Diamond leaned over and picked up the package beside the chair and held it out to Jack.
“Jack, I want you to have these guns. They are far superior to yours. Your guns are old and worn. I would hate to see them fail you when you needed them most, or when Miss Marty needed you to have them work reliably.”
Jack unwrapped the cloth to find a pair of short-barreled Peacemakers in tooled black holsters and a matching belt. Diamond held out two boxes of forty-five caliber ammunition. Jack Thorn pulled one of the guns reverently from the holster, pointed it at the roof above and set the rest down on a rocking chair. He checked to see if the pistol was loaded, hefted it expertly in his hand, and looked at John.
“Mister Diamond, I can’t afford these guns. I’d sure like ‘em, but they’re outta my range.” He turned to put the gun back in its holster.
“How do you know you can’t afford the guns when you don’t know my price?”
Stopping in place and turning slowly, Jack faced the gambler, one eyebrow raised.
“The guns are yours, Jack, with some conditions. First, use them to protect Marty when necessary. You have the judgment and the skill. Use them both. Second, don’t ever shame me with them. Don’t ever go against the law, and don’t show off with them.” Jack nodded slightly and John continued. “Third, don’t ever sell them or give them away except to your own children when that time comes.” Thorn’s head snapped up and he blushed a bit. John smiled inwardly, then went on, “Finally, Jack, if you fail me in this, I will hear of it and I will come back and take the guns away from you.” He looked up at the serious young man holding the guns. “ Can you meet my price, Jack?”
Jack Thorn, at sixteen years of age, accepted the deal. He solemnly held out his hand and had it taken by Cherokee John Diamond.
“Don’t you worry, Mister Diamond, I won’t let you down. You won’t be havin’ to come for the guns, sir.”
John slapped the young man gently on the back and asked, “How do you feel about Mister Bolton sticking you with Marty’s care and instruction, Jack?”
“Aw, you know, she’s a bit of a pain in the neck. Always askin’ questions an’ pokin’ into things. Just naturally curious, I ‘spect. Sorta like a cat. She’s okay, though.”
He paused before going on, “I never was around no girls before, Mister Diamond. I guess I didn’t know what to expect, but they’re just like guys except prettier an’ softer. An’ a lot quieter, too.” He grinned boyishly. They walked back toward the front of the house, when Jack suddenly stopped and turned to face John Diamond directly, “Hey, did you know she can read? Caught her at it this mornin’ after breakfast. She’s readin’ about some hombre called Hawkeye somethin’ or other. She says he was real good in the wild country. Some hombre name of Cooper wrote stories about him.”
He looked very serious when he asked, “Mister Diamond, can you read?”
“Why, yes, Jack, I can read. Can’t you?”
Embarrassment crossed the young face when he replied, “Nossir, I can’t. Never learned how. Never saw the need or took the time.” He gave John a pleading look. “Could you mebbe teach me? I’m real smart an’ can learn fast.”
John smiled at the earnestness displayed before him. “No, Jack. I simply haven’t the time, but I believe we can make another arrangement. I would be willing to wager that Marty would enjoy teaching….”
“NO! Why, goshamighty, man, she’d think I’m stupid. I couldn’t let her know she’s smarter’n me.”
John laughed right out loud at that, then explained when he saw the hurt look that his laughter had caused. “I am sorry, Jack. I meant no disrespect. Listen to me, son. Women are smarter than men in many ways. Who works to take care of them and buy them pretty things? Who fights to protect them? Who takes them places to entertain them? Who builds and sweats and slaves for them? Who fawns over them and makes them feel special? I am not saying that women don’t work hard, or can’t defend themselves, or amuse themselves from time to time. But Jack, don’t you see that we do it for them because they expect us to? Because they make us want to?”
As he turned away to go back inside he said over his shoulder, “If you would like for me to, I could ask Marty if she would be interested in teaching you.”
Inside, Jack hurried to Marty and spoke softly to her before Diamond could say anything. John smiled slightly as they walked off a short ways and talked quietly. After a few minutes Frisco detached herself from the settee where she had been standing near the two young people and walked to stand beside John.
“John, do you know what Jack is asking Marty? He wants her to teach him to read.”
“I know, Frisco. We discussed it a few minutes ago outside.”
“I think it’s wonderful”, the woman bubbled. “I really do. She could single-handedly bring civilization to this part of the world. Do you know what else they were talking about?”
John looked tolerantly amused. “Frisco, my dear, I haven’t a clue.”
She virtually gushed. “She is demanding that in exchange for reading lessons and arithmetic, too, by the way, that Jack teach her to shoot and ride a horse ‘western style’.”
That evening, after most of the others were in bed, John Diamond sat on the front veranda looking at the stars. He missed Kate and Becky. He hadn’t wanted to come on this trip, but a man had to look after his investments in person once in awhile. He reflected that if he hadn’t come he would never have met Marty, and he shuddered to think what that might have meant to a young girl alone out here. As he sat there a coyote cried into the darkness and he marveled at the sound.
“Almost spooky, ain’t it?” John was surprised, but long practice and good nerves kept it from showing. Bart Bolton had moved silently beside him. He pulled over another chair and sat down next to the gambler.
“You got anymore of them little ceegars? I gotta order me some of ‘em from Benson, too.”
John handed the cheroot to the big rancher and watched the man carefully cut the end off and light it. Once it was going to Bolton’s satisfaction he turned to Diamond. “You give Jack them guns with no strings attached?”
“No, sir. That I did not.” He explained the terms as he had laid them out to the young ranch hand. “Do you object, Mister Bolton?”
“Nope. I just wanted to be clear on the deal. You always have extra guns to go handin’ out to folks?”
Diamond laughed at that, then explained, “Not very often, no. I happened to win those from a man who thought he was a gambler. He was no such thing. I gave him enough to buy a decent gun so he wouldn’t be unarmed, but I took these from him to teach him a lesson.”
“Did it take?”
No, it did not. Several days later he made a much more serious error. He not only though he was a gambler, he also thought he was a gunfighter. The man who killed him did not think so. Miss Deane and I attended his burial the day before we met Marty.”
“They look like good guns. Why didn’t you keep ‘em for yourself, or sell ‘em?”
Cherokee John pulled his coat open to reveal the guns he carried, gleaming softly in the lantern light. “I prefer my Smith and Wessons to the Colt. They fit my hands better. I can’t explain it any better than that.”
The big rancher stood up and stretched. “No need to. I know what you mean. I’m goin’ up to bed. Thanks for the ceegar, Diamond.”
John Diamond sat alone for a short while before he finally got up and went inside.