long.”
Torres was waiting for me when I went to get my horse almost an hour later.
“Señor,” he said carefully, “Don Luis likes you and so does the señorita. Our
people, they like you too.”
He studied me searchingly. “Señor Pritts hates us, and he is winning friends
among your people. He spends much money. I believe he would take everything from
us.”
“Not while I’m alive.”
“We need a sheriff in this country, a man who will see justice done.” He looked
at me. “We ask only for justice.”
“What you say is true. We do need a sheriff.”
“The don grows old, and he does not know what to do, but all my life I have been
with him, señor, and I do not think that to fight is enough. We must do
something else, as your people would. There are, señor, still more Mexicans than
Anglos. Perhaps if there was an election. …”
“A Mexican sheriff would not be good, Juan. The Americans would not be willing
to recognize him. Not those who follow Pritts.”
“This I know, señor. We will talk of this again.”
When I walked into the La Fonda that night Ollie Shaddock was standing at the
bar having a drink. He was a broad man with a shock of blond hair and a broad,
cheerful face.
“Have a drink,” he said, “I resigned my sheriffing job to bring your Ma and the
boys west.”
“You brought Ma?”
“Sure enough. Orrin’s with her now.”
He filled my glass from the bottle. “Don’t you be thinkin’ of me as sheriff. You
done right in killin’ Long. I’d have had to arrest you but the law would have
freed you. He had a gun pointed when you killed him.”
We didn’t say anything more about it. It was good to have Ollie Shaddock out
here, and I owed him a debt for bringing Ma. I wanted to see her the worst way
but Ollie had something on his mind.
“Folks talk you up pretty high,” he said.
“It’s Orrin they like.”
“You know something, Tyrel? I’ve been giving some thought to Orrin since I got
here. He’s a man should run for office.”
It seemed a lot of folks had running for office on their minds, but this was a
new country and in need of law. “He’s got it in mind,” I said.
“I’ve been in politics all my years. I was a deputy sheriff at seventeen,
sheriff at nineteen, justice of the peace at twenty-four and served a term in
the state legislature before I was thirty. Then I was sheriff again.”
“I know it.”
“Orrin looks to me like a man who could get out the vote. Folks take to him. He
talks well, and with a mite more reading he could make something of himself, if
we managed it right.”
“We?”
“Politics ain’t much different, Tyrel, than one of these icebergs you hear tell
of. Most of what goes on is beneath the surface. It doesn’t make any difference
how good a man is, or how good his ideas are, or even how honest he is unless he
can put across a program, and that’s politics.
“Statesmanship is about ten percent good ideas and motives and ninety percent
getting backing for your program. Now I figure I know how to get a man elected,
and Orrin’s our man. Also, you can be a big advantage to him.”
“Folks don’t take to me.”
“Now that’s as may be. I find most of the Mexicans like you. They all know you
and Orrin turned Pritts down when he invited you to join him, and the vaqueros
from the Alvarado ranch have been talking real friendly about you.”
He chuckled. “Seems the women like you too. They tell me you provided more
entertainment in one afternoon than they had in years.”
“Now, look—!” I could feel myself getting red around the ears.
“Don’t let it bother you. Folks enjoyed it, and they like you. Don’t ask me
why.”
“You seem to have learned a lot since you’ve been here.”
“Every man to his job, mine’s politics. First thing is to listen. Learn the
issues, the personalities, where the votes are, where the hard feelings are.”
Ollie Shaddock tasted his whiskey and put the glass back on the bar. “Tyrel,
there’s trouble brewing and it will come from that Pritts outfit. That’s a rough
bunch of boys and they’ll get to drinking and there’ll be a killing. Chances
are, it will be a riot or something like that.”
“So?”
“So we got to go up there. You and me and Orrin. When that trouble comes Orrin
has to handle it.”
“He’s no officer.”
“Leave that to me. When it happens, folks will want somebody to take over the
responsibility. So Orrin steps in.”
He tossed off his whiskey. “Look … Pritts wants Torres killed, some of the
other key men. When the shooting starts some of those fur thieves and rustlers
he’s got will go too far.
“Orrin steps in. He’s Anglo, so all the better Americans will be for him. You
convince the Mexicans Orrin is their man. Then we get Orrin appointed marshal,
run him for sheriff, start planning for the legislature.”
Ollie made a lot of sense, and it beat all how quickly he had got hold of the
situation, and him here only a few weeks. Orrin was the man for it all right. Or
Tom Sunday.
“What about Tom Sunday?”
“He figures he’s the man for the job. But Tom Sunday can’t talk to folks like
Orrin can. He can’t get down and be friends with everybody the way Orrin can.
Orrin just plain likes people and they feel it … like you like Mexicans and
they know it. Anyway,” he added, “Orrin is one of ours and one thing about
Orrin. We don’t have to lie.”
“Would you lie?”
Ollie was embarrassed. “Tyrel, politics is politics, and in politics a man wants
to win. So he hedges a little.”
“Whatever we do has to be honest,” I said. “Look, I’m no pilgrim. But there’s
nothing in this world I can’t get without lying or cheating. Ma raised us boys
that way, and I’m glad of it.”
“All right, honesty is a good policy and if a man’s honest it gets around. What
do you think about Orrin?”
“I think he’s the right man.”
Only as I left there and started to see Ma, I was thinking about Tom Sunday. Tom
was our friend, and Tom wasn’t going to like this. He was a mite jealous of
Orrin. Tom had the best education but folks just paid more mind to Orrin.
Ma had aged … she was setting in her old rocker which Ollie had brought west
in his wagon, and she had that old shawl over her knees. When I walked in she
was puffing on that old pipe and she looked me up and down mighty sharp.
“You’ve filled out. Your Pa would be proud of you.”
So we sat there and talked about the mountains back home and of folks we knew
and I told her some of our plans. Thinking how hard her years had been, I wanted
to do something for her and the boys. Bob was seventeen, Joe fifteen.
Ma wasn’t used to much, but she liked flowers around her and trees. She liked
meadow grass blowing in the wind and the soft fall of rain on her own roof. A
good fire, her rocker, a home of her own, and her boys not too far away.
Ollie Shaddock wasted no time but rode off toward Mora. He was planning on
buying a place, a saloon, or some such place where folks could get together. In
those days a saloon was a meeting place, and usually the only one.
Of the books I’d bought I’d read Marcy’s guide books first, and then that story,
The Deerslayer. That was a sure enough good story too. Then I read Washington
Irving’s book about traveling on the prairies, and now was reading Gregg on
Commerce of the Prairies. Reading those books was making me talk better and look
around more and see what Irving had seen, or Gregg. It was mighty interesting.
Orrin and me headed for the hills to scout a place for a home. Sate was feeling
his oats and gave me a lively go-around but I figured the trip would take some
of the salt out of him. That Satan horse really did like to hump his back and
duck his head between his legs.
We rode along, talking land, cattle, and politics, and enjoying the day. This
was a far cry from those blue-green Tennessee mountains, but the air was so
clear you could hardly believe it, and I’d never seen a more beautiful land. The
mountains were close above us, sharp and clear against the sky, and mostly
covered with pines.
Sate wasn’t cutting up any more. He was stepping right out like he wanted to go