Excerpt: The Weathervane Ranch

My escape into dreamland was jolted awake by the horses blowing and snickering. I tried to jump and run but my legs would not move. "Gringo, give me the whip!"

My mind went into slow motion. Gringo handed Chato something that looked like a rope. My eyes focused on Chato as he dangled the deadly looking coil behind his horse. I saw the hand rise, and slowly the black snake reached behind the head of Chato and with ever increasing speed it struck out at me.

I thought he had missed until I felt the whip. The taste of acid filled my mouth. My throat squeezed into a throbbing mass. I felt the searing, burning, ripping of the whip's tongue as it licked my face between my right ear and shoulder. That part of my face jerked away. Behind it was an ocean of pain and open nerves. Before I could reach for my face the black snake struck again, and this time it curled itself around my midriff before violating my stomach. The reddening whelp began to rise and blood oozed out of the crevice.

"You, boy! You get up now or I hit you another time!" I forced the dead legs to move. They had to! "Boy! You try this again, I will kill you. Comprendo?" I nodded.

On the second attempt at freedom, I got two hundred yards from the camp and realized I could not outrun the horses. I remember looking into the calming depth of the darkness and knowing freedom was worlds away. I stumbled, head down, back to camp and Gringo stood in the shadows twirling the black snake. As the whip's tongue passed around in circles, my flesh crawled. I understood the message. You don't forget the pain that's administered with a black snake.

Rolling into my bedroll I decided to plan my escape and to wait for the proper time. I spent the next two months planning my final deliverance from Chato. But, before I could put them into effect things changed.

We picked up four new calves and three new cows from the last arroyo we passed. The new ones wore a brand that looked like a weather vane with a line drawn under it. They were enjoying the comfort and solitude of the grass found in the arroyo. It did not take much to convince them to follow the small herd we had with us. The herd was only twenty strong, just enough for the five of us to handle.

We were pushing them along the trail when he appeared on a little rise. Chato was the closest to him and the first to see the tall figure. He rode a big red Appaloosa and cast a long shadow across the prairie.

Chato jerked the reins, stopped, and stared at the man. I followed the stare. The sun was at his back and created an ominous allusion. He just appeared before us. For a minute I thought it was our imagination dancing a mystical image in the sun.

"Hola, Senor. It is good that you have found us. We are lost on our way. Maybe, you could help us to find the way to Austin ?" Chato hand slowly reached for his .44.

"If your hand touches that gun, you will die where you sit," the voice calmly assured us. Chato froze.

"Why you say such things Senor? We just go to find Austin and to sell these cows."

"Some of those cows look familiar. Suppose you leave them where they are."

"Senor, we cannot do that. We worked and saved to take these few cows to the market in Austin ."

"You never worked a decent day in your life. Those cows carry the Weathervane brand. You can either leave them or die in your saddle."

"Senor, that is big talk for such a one as you. Why could we not shoot you and then go?"

Pointing to the heavy Johnson grass to the west the voice said, "You see that .50 Sharps sticking out of the grass? It will put a hole the size of your fist in the Indian and blow him to the other side of the herd." Pointing to dense thicket to the east of us the voice said, "That's a .44/70 Winchester sticking out of that clump of brush? It will drill a neat but effective hole in the heart of the white man behind you. But before that happens I will separate your head from your shoulders with these Colts."

Pausing for effect, the voice continued, "Maybe the other two will bury us. Now, I don't have all day to fool with you. You can either leave or die. Which will it be?"

Chato surveyed the brush and the grass and said, "Maybe Senor, there is no bodies there but you wish to trick us and to take our cows?"

Pointing to the north the voice said, "That may be, but either way you better make a decision before that dust cloud gets here. They have a rope that will fit your neck."

Chato quickly looked to the north and visibly turned a different color. It seemed as if all the blood drained from his face. "Senor, we do not have time to contest with you the claim you have. There is urgent business we must attend to in the south. Keep the cows that are ours for us and if any have slipped into the group by mistake, you will see that they get home, no?" Chato started to turn, but the voice spoke, "Hold it. Are you with them, boy?"

Chato spoke quickly, "Senor, this one, he is my, how you say, cunado's Niño. My sister’s husband's boy. He is with us."

"That true boy?" I shook my head no. "Leave the boy with me and go."

Chato began to back his horse and just before he got out of ear shot said, "Today you have the advantage, Senor. But, maybe another day, eh?"

"The name is Wilson McVane and any day will be fine."

I watched my former captors ride off and to dwindle into spots on the horizon. For a long time we just watched them ride. The voice spoke to me and said, "Boy, go pick up those two rifles I hid in the brush. And be quick about it."

"Let's get the others and stomp them buggers into the ground?"

"There are no others. That cloud of dust is a herd of cattle I just left, and if they figure it out, we are in trouble. Please, be quick about you."

That is how I first came to meet Wilson McVane, on a rise with nothing but a bluff and a strong voice.