Caleb: A Western tale, circa 1880's

Chapter Four

It was still dark when Caleb woke up. His side throbbed unmercifully and he had to make a trip to the outhouse. The moon had come up, illuminating the inside of the bunk house through high, narrow windows set in the walls.

Standing up, Caleb realized that the windows had been set at the height of a man's shoulders, making the long, stone building into something like a bunker, wherein any rifle or shotgun could be rested on window frames in the event of a siege. Carefully, he made his way to the far end of the bunk house, where a heavy door opened inward, revealing the moon-lit, walled path that led to the outhouse.

Far beyond the protective curve of the ranch buildings, a wolf howled. Caleb took himself off to the necessary. On his way back, he found himself looking more toward the far horizons than where he was going.

Kitty's admonition to remain on the path came to mind, so Caleb found himself scanning the moon-lit landscape for danger. A high ridge, about a half-mile from the last picket-fenced row crop, rose up on the right of the skyline, forming a line of shadow. At the base of that rise, trees had been left to grow up, making a natural shelter for whatever, or whoever, might be frightening Miss Kitty.

The entire compound was located in a clearing, with the grasses kept short by the stock she grazed close to home. Beyond that, native grasses and scrub-brush hemmed in the neat little farm she maintained. If Miss Kitty was alone, who maintained the fences?

He wondered about it on the short trip back from the necessary, his feet pausing in response to his thoughts. The scrub could be hiding all manner of wildlife, especially hunting critters like wolves, bears and big cats. As if hearing his thoughts, another howl floated through the air then was answered by the first, judging by the position of the howls.

Thinking to sit on the edge of the berm and stare out at the moon-lit night, Caleb sat on the edge of the stone wall and swung one foot up onto the berm, almost forgetting his hurts until a sharp pain reminded him. An arrow sang its way through the night to land near his leg. Caleb hastily swung his leg back and dropped down into the protective shadow of the berm.

Ignoring the pain in his side, he crawled his way back to the bunkhouse and barred the doors, trusting the sound of breaking glass to warn him of any further attack. Still, regardless of those precautions, Caleb didn't go back to sleep until nearly dawn, kept awake by his thoughts.

Despite her hard work and apparent ease during the day time, Miss Kitty Slocum wore a sidearm as if she'd been born with it strapped on and never strayed beyond the sunken paths after dark. She wasn't born on the ranch, he realized, but came later. Despite her fears, she trusted the mysterious, dangerous lands to protect her.

The posse seemed to believe the same or they would have followed him over the fence and to the barn without waiting to ask her permission. The fact that the entire posse, except for the marshal, stayed mounted and politely in the dooryard with their horses spoke volumes to him. Even they seemed a bit put off by the ranch.

It didn't seem right to Caleb that the young lady should live in such fear, so despite the price on his own head, he knew he'd have to stay and take care of whatever was troubling Miss Kitty. Not that he was eager to take on someone else's troubles, far from it! He knew, however, that he was deeply into Miss Kitty's debt.

Knowing exactly where he was and what evil things he'd been accused of, she'd sent the posse away empty-handed; had been feeding him even before she knew what-or who- he was, and then, when she'd been educated as to his identity, had cheerfully fed him and doctored his hurts. Nope, Caleb knew that it wasn't quite time to ride on just yet, even if he'd had a horse to ride out on. Having come to this conclusion, Caleb closed his eyes in the dark and fell asleep.