The Making of a Man (Bailey Clan Westerns Book 3)

Book summary

Luke Bailey, left behind as his brothers hunt for gold, sets out to scout land for a new ranch. In Shackelford, he takes on the role of deputy, finding himself in conflicts that test his strength and justice. Love, land, and honor drive him as he faces a ruthless adversary in this gritty frontier tale.

Excerpt from The Making of a Man (Bailey Clan Westerns Book 3)

A Dead Man

“Hold it right there, Mister!” a high-pitched voice said. “Make a false move and this here Henry repeater will blow you to kingdom come!” Luke Bailey was squatting on his haunches in a shallow arroyo filled with scrub bushes and boulders. He was looking at a dead man when he heard the voice behind him. He knew it was a woman by the sound of the voice, but it gave him no consolation because he also knew a few tough ladies, and he wasn’t taking any chances. He slowly moved his hands away from his body and said mildly, “If it’s all the same to you, Ma’am, I ain’t rightly ready to see that kingdom yet. I’m just a traveler, and I’ve been trailing this man’s horse for quite some distance.” There was a slight quaver in her voice as she asked him, “And why were you trailing him? To kill him?” Luke sighed and said, “I was trailing him because I saw blood on his trail and figured I could help him out if he was badly wounded. This is lonesome country, Ma’am, and a body has to help out when someone is hurt.”

“How do I know that you didn’t kill him!” she demanded. But this time the quaver had left her voice, and Luke said mildly, “If you kin allow me to stand up, I could maybe prove it to you.” She told him, “Stand up slowly and keep your hands high; just remember that this rifle is aimed at you and I have my finger on the trigger.” Luke slowly stood up with his hands above his head and then, just as slowly, turned around. The first thing that struck him was the beauty of the girl standing in front of him with the rifle held firmly in her hands. She was about five foot five, slim, but with curves in all the right places. She wore denim pants and a denim shirt that was tucked in. Around her waist she wore a gun belt with the holster riding high and to the front of her body, and the gun was butt-forward for a cross draw. He had a feeling that there was some Indian blood in there that made her so beautiful. He figured her to be young, around sixteen or seventeen, but there was nothing young about that old rifle that she held, nor the Colt in her holster. “Ma’am,” he told her. “This man was shot with a Sharps buffalo gun, and if you take a look at my horse you’ll see that I carry a Winchester repeater.” She glanced at the rifle on his horse and then said, “Move away from him.”

Luke obediently moved away, and the girl came closer and looked down at the dead man. There was a gaping hole towards the side of his stomach that had been plugged with a neckerchief. The bloody neckerchief was at the side of the body, and she asked Luke, “You pull out the plug?” He nodded and said, “Figured I’d see if I could do something, but he died on me before I could.” She exclaimed, “He was alive when you found him!?” He nodded again and told her, “That was one tough hombre. I reckon he saw this arroyo and he got off his horse up there and then dragged himself down here to hide. How he survived for so long, I don’t know, but he died just a few minutes before you came on the scene.” She lowered the rifle, and two tears rolled down her cheeks. He started to move forward slowly, and she immediately raised the rifle again. He stopped and told her, “Ma’am, no Winchester or Henry could make a hole that big. That there was a Sharps, and I’d bet that he was shot from long range.” She licked her lips and asked him, “Did he...did he say anything before he...?” Luke said gently, “He was kind of ramblin’ there for a while, but at the end he did say to take care of Gina.” She lowered the rifle and knelt down by the body. “That’s me,” she said. “And this is...was my father.” The tears now flowed freely down her cheeks, and Luke came forward and squatted by her side. He let her cry for a while and then said softly, “Ma’am, I should maybe wrap him up in something and put him on his horse. There’s some cover here, but the rest of this country is wide open, and the bushwhacker who shot him might also be following him. I reckon we best make a move and get him home.”

She just nodded, and standing up, she walked away. Luke brought the man’s horse down into the arroyo and took down the man’s bedroll from the horse. He wrapped the body in a sheet and then lifted the body and placed it face down across the saddle. He found some piggin strings in the man’s saddlebags and used them to fix the body so that it wouldn’t slide off the horse. By the time he had finished, the girl had returned riding astride her horse, and Luke mounted up and said, “You lead the way, Ma’am, and I’ll follow.” She looked at him, and she liked what she saw. “My name is Gina,” she said. “Short for Virginia, and I’d be obliged if you would drop the Ma’am.” She didn’t wait for a reply but turned her horse around and led the way out of the shallow arroyo. They rode without speaking for about five miles, and then Luke saw a ranch building in the distance. That didn’t surprise him since he knew that this was cattle country and he had seen a lot of cattle as they were riding. He had noted the brand on the dead man’s horse, which was the Rafter C, and the horse that the girl was riding, as well as the cattle he saw on the range, all bore the same brand.

When they were within a mile of the ranch house, five cowboys came towards them riding fast. They drew up in a flurry of dust and walked their horses around Luke to get a look at the body. One of them cursed and muttered, “Hell! It’s the boss! Pedro, you ride to the house and tell Cookie and Juana.” The man he addressed was a middle-aged cowboy with a dark-skinned, dour face which was now looking even grimmer. The man wheeled his horse without speaking and rode fast to the ranch house. The man who had spoken rode in front of Luke at the side of Gina. The others did not speak to Luke, but two rode at either side of him, and one rode at the rear, thus boxing him in. Luke kept his eyes straight ahead and continued to follow Gina, but he had seen them boxing him in, and he appreciated what they were doing. He liked the look of them, tough and salty, especially the man who had spoken to Pedro. He was a big man, around six foot two inches in height with broad shoulders and a solid, muscular build. He had a craggy face that was burned a nut-brown by the sun, and Luke figured him to be in his forties.

They reached the ranch house, and a Mexican lady who looked to be in her early forties and a tall, thin elderly man with a game leg came to Gina as she swung down from the saddle. The Mexican lady, who Luke figured to be Juana, embraced Gina and then led her to the house with her arm around her shoulders. The elderly man, who Luke thought could only be the one called Cookie, walked at the other side of Gina with his hand on her shoulder. One of the cowboys took the lead of the dead man’s horse from Luke and led it away. The big man watched Gina until she disappeared into the house, and then he turned to Luke. “The name’s Holden, Mike Holden, and I’m the foreman of the Rafter C,” he said as he held out his hand. Luke shook his hand and told him, “They call me Luke, and I’m just a traveler who happened to find your boss just before he died. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll be on my way as I have a far distance to go yet.” Mike held up his hand and said, “Least we can do is give you a cup of coffee and some chow, seeing as it’s almost lunchtime. You kin tell me what happened as you drink your coffee.” He did not wait for Luke to accept the offer or not but walked his horse to the bunkhouse, and Luke shrugged and followed him. Tying his horse to the hitching rail, Luke pulled his rifle from the boot and looked at the ranch house. It was a sprawling building, well built and maintained. There was a porch that ran the length of the front of the building, and he saw curtains in the windows. There were two stone chimneys rising from the roof, and that was unusual because good stone masons were hard to come by in the developing lands. He turned and walked into the bunkhouse after Mike.

The bunkhouse was a large, long building which held the usual bunk beds with a few small tables and chairs scattered around. There was a stove in one corner with a blackened kettle on a table at the side. Mike Holden poured two mugs of coffee from the kettle and gave one to Luke. “Let’s sit down,” he said, pointing to a few chairs around a small table. When they were seated and drinking their coffee, Mike told Luke, “So tell me how you found him.” Luke told him, “About five miles from where I found him, I saw blood on the trail and the tracks of a running horse. I figured someone was injured and injured badly, going by the amount of blood I saw on the trail. I followed the trail to see if I could help, and I found him lying in a small arroyo. His horse was standing to the side of the arroyo. The way I read the sign, he must have seen the arroyo, so he got off his horse and dragged himself into that arroyo because there was cover there. He was alive and rambling when he saw me, but he died before I could do anything to help him.”

Mike leaned forward and asked him, “You make out anything from his rambling?” Luke shrugged and said, “The wound in his side was from a Sharps, and the way it looked, I figured he had been shot from long range.” Mike’s face was grim as he remarked, “A bushwhacker!” He again asked Luke, “You make anything out of his talk?” Luke told him, “He said ‘bushwhacked’ but I’d already figured that one out. Then he muttered something that I couldn’t catch, but I heard the name Winston and ‘peace talk’ but I couldn’t make out what he meant.” Mike cursed and said, “He must have been saying that he thought Winston was responsible! Anything else?” Luke shrugged and said, “At the end he just said to take care of Gina. By the way, she introduced herself to me after she held me up with a rifle in her hands.” Mike told him, “That rifle ain’t ornamental in Gina’s hands. She’s a crack shot with it! I know because I taught her how to shoot.”

Luke had finished his coffee, and he said, “Maybe I ought to be moving along. A stranger ain’t needed around when there’s grief in the family.” But Mike shook his head and told him, “The Rafter C don’t let anyone ride out on an empty stomach. Besides, you’ve been traveling, you said, which means eating your own cooking. Once you’ve eaten Cookie’s food, you may never want to leave!” Luke was happy to be persuaded to stay because he wanted another look at Gina. But just a look, he told himself, and then he would have to be on his way.