"This is a stand-alone, continuing effort. ( there will be a few more chapters ) After over ninety thousand words, I closed 'Winding Creek'... This is the continuation of that story picking up again shortly before the civil war. I've tried to add basic background n necessary details. I'm sure I have and will make some mistakes."
Lucas Blake set the porch on the land he'd been brought to all those years ago, slow called home and still did. The original cabin had growed over the years, been added to, rebuilt some n finally torn down.
The porch he now set on in front of the near new home were built by hands that were well taught n skilled in the trades that those men had chose.
Stone foundation, whitewashed n trimmed in bright yellow, it had rugs scattered here n there over smoothed wood floors. Open fireplaces at both ends of the grandest home in a hundred miles keep it warm and the mostly glass windows that opened n closed cooled it in the summer's heat. Most bedrooms were on the second floor, with only Mr. n Mrs. Blakes on the first right next to Linda Jeans office n sittin' room.
The massive barn n the next to it bunk house were now a bit farther away from the main house. Dull red n trimmed in white, it took many of the scents that Luke had grown up with some fifty plus yards or so further away. The split rail fenced corral were gone, replaced by mill sawed lumber, twice as big n whitewashed same as the house. There were another corral off it's back, a touch bigger n split in two. All that n learnt horse raisin' practices cleared this mornin's air making it smell like the wide-open ranch it now were.
Smoke Garcia's home near the old sycamore had been added to some with all the children he n Luna shared. Seemet like every time Lucas Blake's right hand man n closest friend parked his boots under their bed, there were another little one on the way. The short distance between the two homes were always filled with both family's children playin' tag or whatever game they thought up. It were a hard-set rule that no horse would be ridden in the children's play area; only walked if it had to be done at all...
Spring now, Lucas enjoyed the birds chasing each other about in the cool mornin's lite trying to figure on with who n then where they'd nest to spend their time rearin' their little ones. Butterflies bounce danced in the air where the flower garden lined the walk to the barn. Linda Jean Balke were watching Tom Poe finish gentling a two-year-old stallion that someone was coming to look at in a week er so.
Mrs. Blake had her waist length, raven winged coloret hair pulled back n knotted in a light blue silk scarf. She wore a matchin' one around her slender neck held by the cameo Lucas had gifted her jist before Little Luke n Ann Marie were born. She wore a white linen shirt, same as her husbands and a long buckskin split riding skirt. She were wearing her riding boots today, one foot of the polished black leather perched on the lower rail of the corral.
Lucas loved his dark-eyed wife more than life itself n she him the same. When they were together on this ranch, nothing much mattered other then their children n those they shared in raisin'. There were seldom, if any talk about Winding Creek er Lucas Blake's other businesses n doin's away the ranch. Family n horses filled their time together. That n the many pleasures they still enjoyed after their years of bein' married n all.
Rudy Garcia, the moon-faced n gentle boy were no more then ten feet away from Linda Jean. Luna's oldest boy n Smokes adopted son took to the ranch's matriarch the minute he seen her n were seldom more than a soft-spoken word away. The young man had a way with the gardens he n his mother planted and the two families sharet one. The gardens were his first duty each day, the rest of time he chose to be close to Linda Jean. Those that worked the ranch in some way or another always had a gentle word for Rudy, sometimes showin' him what they were doin' n why they were doin' it if he showed interest. One-man years ago chose to make fun of the slow-witted child. After Smoke Garcia showed him the error of his ways, what was left were tied to his horses back n shooed away.
Few folks had seen the L n L Ranch up close 'cept for those that were special invited guests or made their livin' there. Sometimes an arranged appointment by a horse buyer mite spend the mornin' or maybe an afternoon...
"Good Mornin' Padrone."
Lucas looked up from filling his briar pipe n quickly stood.
"Mornin' Luna."
After Luna Garcia set into her own chair, he settled back down in his on the long floor-stained gray porch.
"Any sign from Smoke."
The still thin mother of seven settled first 'fore speakin' softly.
"No Padrone. It has ben five days that hee rode to the south ranch. Hee said it shood be no more then three."
Lucas chuckled.
"You know as well as I do when you put Smoke n Luis Tee together there's no tellin'. He'll be back no later than tomorrow."
"That is when you return to town?"
Lucas slow nodded. As much as he loved Linda Jean, he sorely missed her sister Tiffany Ann n her sometimes 'petulant' behaviors...
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Smoke Garcia set on Rojo, his Army Colt shoulder holstered n his new Henry rifle perchet atop his thigh pointing skyward, watched as Luis Tee cloth wiped his brow. The last of the four men that had been foolish enough to steal a dozen horses n mules from the L n L Ranch South were wide armed stretched between the elegant porch columns of 'Sallys' in the now fast growin' town of Gonzales.
"Look n learn."
Smoke repeated Luis Tee's words in Spanish. The thinnin', greyer then black haired Luis nodded at his ranch foreman. A bucket of water drawn from the nearby trough were thrown over the silent man's whip cut n bleedin' back. He slow woke-up n struggled to his feet. The air was cut once more by the twenty-foot bull whip in Luis Tees right hand. The man screamed before saggin' ag'in, the ropes tied around his wrists drawn even tighter.
Luis looket to a stoic Smoke Garcia.
The large, brooding man took the last hangin' rope tied behind Rojo's saddle n eased the horse big enough to carry 'im to the gallery rail above the fancy porch. Slippin' the ropes end over the rail n between the three-inch columns, he tite looped it around Rojo's saddle horn.
Miguel and Juan dragged the near lifeless man under the swayin' noose end of the rope. Miguel pushed it over his head and Smoke Gacia eased his horse back, the coarse rope slow liftin' the red-haired n bearded man two feet off the ground. The man, like his three hung friends danglin' to his right, clawed at the air n then dug at the taught rope as he suffered a slow stranglin' man's death.
Luis Tee rolled-up the twenty-foot blood-stained leather n tied it to his grey gelding's saddle. Steppin' into the fine tooled saddles stirrup, he swung onto the silver trimmed black leather.
"They hang there til moring."
Again, Smoke Garcia repeated his words. Luis spoke Spanish but wanted the legend of the man ridin' with him addin' to his sayin's. A ten-dollar gold coin were flipped onto the porch. Smoke unwound the rope from the front of Rojo's saddle as Miguel kept it taught while movin' to Juan who wrappet it around the near hitchhin' rail. There were no sound from the folks watchin' as Miguel n Juan mounted their horses n the thief huntin' posse slow rode away...
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The roarin' flames slow settled after an hour er so, returning the clearing n scorched garden to a flickerin' light n the lower heat of a huge glowin' cook fire. A sometimes flame still rose up, spittin' as it struggled to burn bright before dyin' once ag'in. It'd be a day er two before the critters n such would return; maybe a few years until what were left were swallowed up by the surroundin' grasses n vines. Maybe a squirrel would bury an acorn er two n a oak might grow...
It were like Buck Tellez' wanted it: him buried inside, his favored Hawkens long gun in his arms n everything 'Blue' didn't want followin' him to whatever it were that death gived to ya. Buck kinda figured like the Comanche's who took the boy and Buck traded for some seven years ago. There were more then one night the two spent gossipin' 'bout the great beyond. Now that growed, bare chested boy spit n patted 'Horace' on his slow turnin' grey shoulder.
"Jist you n me now mule."
Blue took one last look at the smokin' leavings of the home Buck n his brother built some twenty-five years or so ago with their own hands n one double-edged axe. Buck told that story more times then Blue wanted to remember; how the two had worked through the spring n summer n then had words n Pablo lit out never sayin' a word.
Now it would fall on him to find that brother. He'd given his word to Buck Tellez', the man that bought him for a steel bladed knife, jug of corn liquor, twelve beaver pelts plus a snow-white fox's he'd had for years.
It was a small price to pay for having the boy's efforts for seven years, though Buck only told the story once about how he bought 'em. Seemed the Medicine Man saw the light skinned, blue eyed boy was the cause of the tribe's trouble in findin' buffalo. Standing Bear disagreed, but sold his captured son to Buck Tellez' anyways...
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Linda Jean set near nude at her hand carved vanity runnin' a brush through her long black hair. She looket over her shoulder at her husband readin' yet another leather-bound book. Turnin' toward him slow, she crossed her ankles n leant back, the thin gauze like material openin' to expose her heavy breasts. With her elbows restin' on top of the higher sided drawers on each side of the glass covered top of the vanity behind her, she jist stared at her husband Lucas Blake.
It were as he turnet a second page he finally took note.
"My, my, my. Aren't you a site to see."
"You'd not know it you takin' so long to notice Husband."
Lucas soft closed the book n after layn' it on the side table under the oil burnin' lamp, rolled over onto his scarred chest n narrow hips to settle on his stomach not two feet away.
"Lemmie see what I been missin' woman."
