Careful of the Lone Rider

Beau felt the vibration even before he heard the thundering hooves. It woke him from a deep sleep which he hadn't had in weeks. Swearing under his breath he quickly rolled up his blanket and threw his saddle and saddle bags onto his horse. He cinched the saddle tightly listening to the herd of something, for he had not yet determined what, cattle or horses, getting closer. Sweat trickled down his brow as he climbed onto his nervous paint and rode away from the edges of the canyon which would spew its animal contents at any moment. In seconds he recognized the panicked bawling of spooked cattle and even in the darkness of a half-moon sky he saw the dust cloud ahead of the crazed beasts.

They quickly laid waste to what had been his camp; it only took seconds.

"Damn!" he said, patting his horse on the neck trying to calm the nervous animal. It was dancing around and nearly threw him off as he held the reigns tighter. The heavy dust cloud spread in his direction and he pulled his kerchief over his face and closed his eyes. The horse tried to turn away and he let him with a, "Sorry boy."

"Are you all right mister?" someone asked.

Beau opened his eyes and saw a young man of about twenty astride a tall white gelding. He had a pale hat pulled onto his head and because they were in the shadows of the canyon, Beau couldn't make out much else. 

"Oh, I reckon I'll live," Beau told him. "What got 'em spooked?"

'I don't know, maybe some critter got in with them they didn't like. They were peaceful and then they were running like hell," was the reply.

Beau just nodded and brushed the dust off himself and then reached ahead and brushed what he could from his horse's face.

"Why don't you come over to our camp?" the young man asked. "I'm sure our cook has coffee on already and he'll start breakfast shortly if I don't stop him."

"What about that cattle?"

"I don't hear them anymore. I expect the other fellas got them stopped by now.

"Alright," Beau replied. "My grub is pretty well ruined. I did good to get my saddle and blanket."

The young man looked at the place that had been Beau's camp. "You were lucky. They could just as well have trampled you and that paint of yours."

They rode together back to the camp, neither saying much as they looked over the damage the stampede had left in its wake. Cacti were shredded into mush and mixed with sand and the sparse grass as they rode through the canyon. At the mouth of the canyon was a grassy oasis with a small spring-fed pond. Beau could see the cook's wagon at the other end of the grassy patch and a fire burning low beside it.

The paint balked and Beau looked down, steadying the animal. "Whoa." He patted its neck. "It's okay," and led it around what had scared it.

"What's wrong?" the younger man asked.

"I think a rattler got after one of your cattle and spooked it. Could be what started it all. That rattler is pretty dead though, so I'd say the animals came out ahead."

"Hey, Lou, that coffee sure smells good," the cowboy called to the black man wiping his brow with a weathered kerchief standing near the fire.

"Oh, good, somebody's come back," Lou said. "Did you get 'em stopped Mr. Pete?"

"I reckon so," Pete replied. "This fella here almost got trampled though," he said pointing to Beau. "Say, what is your name? We never did exchange pleasantries."

"I'm Beau," he replied, "And you did ask if I was okay."

They climbed down and tied their horses to the wagon. Lou handed them each a cup of steaming chicory coffee and a biscuit.

"Thanks, Lou," Pete said. "We'll help you load the wagon and find the herd."

Two hours later just after sun-up they rolled up on the herd of a hundred fifty cattle which were grazing peacefully.

"I see they found more grass," Beau told Pete.

"Well, Texas ain't all sand; it just feels like it sometimes. They should be good from here; we only got a couple more days to go anyway."

"Oh, you're not taking them to market?" Beau asked.

"No. My boss sold them to the army. We're taking them over to the fort."

"Oh," Beau said. "We'll do you mind if I ride with you fellas a ways? It gets mighty lonesome out here," he added.

"Sure," Pete told him. "Where you headed?"

"No place in particular," he answered. "I guess I'll know when I see it."

"I'll introduce you to the other fellas when they come in to eat. They have to keep a pretty close watch over the herd. We can't go losing them now," Pete said.

Beau rode watch over the herd for two days, giving one then another a chance to go eat and get some rest. He told them it was the least he could do for their hospitality.

"Hey, Beau, some of the boys are heading into town.  Want to go?" Pete asked him. "We turn this bunch over to the army tomorrow afternoon," he said indicating the herd of cattle.

"No, you go ahead. I'd rather stay behind," he answered.

"You know, I sure wish you'd have talked more the last two days. I didn't really get to know you all that good," Pete said. "Of course you're welcome to stay on after we're done. I'm sure the boss wouldn't mind."

"That's all right. I think it's time for me to be moving on anyway."

"Well, if you change your mind about coming into town, there are plenty of men staying behind to watch them critters. Just follow the sound of the piano playing in the saloon."

Beau watched as Pete and several of the men headed to town. He waited until they were out of sight and loaded his saddle bags with some of Lou's biscuits, filled his canteen, and rode out of camp. He rode west late into the night putting distance between himself and the encampment. "They served their purpose," he thought. "No one will know where to look for me. Juarez, here I come. "  

"Pete, it's good to see you again," the sergeant said sticking out his hand. "How was the trip up?"

"Oh, it was pretty good except for a minor stampede. We got all of them here though," he said.

"Good, glad to hear it. Come on to the office and we'll get you paid."

A troop rode into the fort looking ragged and tired. They climbed down from their mounts handing the reigns over to boys who would make sure the animals were brushed and fed.  They then headed slowly to the barracks brushing off several layers of dust.

"Where they been?" Pete asked.

"Looking for an outlaw," the sergeant answered." He killed a judge over by Fort Worth when he convicted him and his brother for cattle rustling. He told the judge it was a lie, that they did no such thing, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He grabbed for the sheriff's gun and shot the judge, then they both jumped through a window. They managed to get to their horses though."

"You got papers on him? Maybe we came across him on the trail. He traveling with his brother?" Pete asked.

"No, he got killed during the escape. Old Beauregard got away clean."

"Beauregard?" Pete asked. He turned white as a sheet when he saw the wanted poster. There was Beauregard Richardson, also known as Beau, wanted dead or alive.

"What's the matter Pete? You look like you've seen a ghost. This fella would have been traveling alone, probably south, so we've been trying to find someone all by themselves. I guess they didn't have any luck."

"I think I know why," Pete told him.

Red Hot Valentine

Bess sat at her desk and sighed. “Cynthia, do you know what I miss about elementary school?” She pushed her large glasses up a little on the bridge of her nose.

“I can’t imagine,” Cynthia answered. “I am so glad to be graduating this year and getting out of here I can barely stand it.”

“There is that,” Bess said. “It’s Valentine’s day in a couple days. In elementary school everyone got a card, several actually. It was forced, but so what? No one was left out. Once you get to the upper grades nothing. Not one.”

Cynthia started laughing. “Do you want me to give you one?” 

“Asks the girl who gets one from nearly every guy in the class. No, I do not want a pity Valentine from my best friend. I want a genuine Valentine from a guy who is interested in me. But since I am not a knock out beauty, or a cheerleader, or any of that other popular girl stuff, it isn’t going to happen.”

“Bess, you are not ugly. We have an unusual ratio of girls to boys here. When a new one shows up, girls act like sharks to blood. The poor guy doesn’t stand a chance,” Cynthia pointed out with a chuckle. 

“I noticed. That’s why I stand back out of the way. I don’t stand a chance.”

“Stop being so negative! You’re actually quite pretty under those glasses. I know you can’t wear contacts, but you might try a little makeup once in a while. They won’t even notice those giant frames,” Cynthia told her.

“You can hardly miss them. Anyway, maybe college will be different.” She tried to look hopeful and smiled.

“You just wait. I’ll bet someone will see you for who you are. Prom is coming up in a couple months,” Cynthia reminded her. 

“Tell me about it. I’ll probably just sit it out like last year. I will not go stag!”

The bell rang and the girls gathered their books and moved out into the throng of students making their way to their next classes, stopping at their lockers to exchange books and greeting friends along the hallway. 

One boy watched from behind his locker door at Bess and Cynthia as they disappeared behind a classroom door. He slammed his door shut and leaned his head against the cold metal. “Just a couple days left,” he muttered and jumped as one of his friends cupped his shoulder on the way by. He looked up at the other boy who had turned and grinned at him motioning him to get to class. He did that a lot. 

“So, did you ask her yet?” Jerry asked Sam as he pulled his text book out of his backpack.

“She is way out of my league,” Sam said. 

“Why don’t you let her be the judge of that?” Jerry said, giving him a slug in the arm. “The prom is coming up. If you don’t ask her someone else might beat you to it.”

Sam grinned a lopsided grin. “Maybe I’ll give her one of those goofy valentines. I think my mom kept some of my leftovers.”

Jerry snorted. “Dude, no!” He lowered his voice when his classmates turned to stare at him. “No Ninja Turtles. We are way too old for that.”

Sam nodded his head. “Yeah, I guess we are. I’ll come up with something.”

Valentine’s Day arrived and girls were finding cards stuffed in their lockers and placed on their desks. A few had flowers and some had red velvet heart-shaped boxes of chocolates. Bess and Cynthia walked into their history class chatting about all the cards Cynthia had accumulated.

“Oh, look, someone put it on the wrong desk,” Bess said, lifting a handcrafted envelope off her desk and handing it to Bess.

“Thanks,” Cynthia said taking the envelope. She read the front and handed it back. “Actually, this one is for you.”

“What?” Bess grabbed it, a shocked look on her face. She read the front and stared at it with her eyes wide.

“Don’t just stare it. Open it! It’s kind of heavy for a card,” she added.

Bess nodded. She turned it over and carefully lifted the edge. “I think it’s edible,” she said. She pulled it out slowly. It was made of heavy white paper with a red paper lace doily in the shape of a heart. The center had cinnamon heart-shaped red hots attached with a small amount of icing. She opened it up.

Cynthia read it out loud over her shoulder and burst out laughing. “To a girl who is as hot as the candy! Be my Valentine. Sincerely, Sam Johnston.” 

Bess turned red and then she smiled. “He’s in trig with us. He sits two seats down. I like him.”

Bess hugged her friend. “Prom date!” she exclaimed.

The Basement

“I’m so glad you decided to rent the room,” Mr. Cheever told Ellen, his new tenant. “It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone in there and I really needed it rented out.”

“I’m just glad it was still available,” Ellen replied. “Apartments in the city are way higher than I expected. An entire three bedroom house was cheaper where I come from.” She smiled. “What amenities are included?”

“Amenities?” Mr. Cheever asked. 

“May I use the washer and dryer or do I need to go to the laundromat? Am I allowed to use the kitchen?” she clarified.

“Oh! Sorry, senior moment,” he said. “The washer and dryer are on the main floor and you may use them, just make sure to empty the lint trap and never leave your laundry unattended. If you start it, finish it. There is space in the cupboard for you and a shelf in the fridge. If you make a mess, clean it up. I don’t have a dishwasher.”

“That’s fine. I know how to clean up after myself. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Yes. Stay out of the basement. Under no circumstances are you to go in the basement.”

“Sure. No problem,” she said. “May I move in today? I keep my things in my car.”

“That would be fine. Welcome home. Payment is the first of the month, no exceptions,” he added.

She handed him a check and he folded it and placed it in his wallet. 

Ellen was startled by a knock at her door as she was getting ready for bed. Mr. Cheever called out from the other side. “Ellen? Are you decent? I brought you a cup of tea.”

She opened the door. “Why thank you. I would love a cup.” She took a sip. “Wow! That is good. What kind is it?”

“It’s just a special blend from the natural foods store. It’s supposed to help you relax for a better night’s sleep,” he told her. “I’ve used it for years. I figure with you being from the country the night sounds of the city might keep you up.”

“That was so thoughtful. You’re right. I haven’t been sleeping well since I left home, but you know how it is. If there aren’t any jobs where you live, you go where the jobs are.”

He nodded. “Yes, I know what you mean. Don’t worry about the cup tonight. You can take care of it in the morning. I’ll leave you to it then.”

Ellen woke up refreshed. She had indeed slept very soundly through the night. Man, I’m glad I found this place, she thought. 

It became a ritual. Every evening around nine Mr. Cheever brought her a cup of tea and she slept soundly, whereas she had never been one to sleep that hard before, hearing every creak of a floorboard or even the wind blowing gently through the trees – with the windows shut. 

One night she set the tea down on the bedside table and it got cold before she could drink it. It didn’t taste very good cold so she left it until morning. She did indeed hear every little sound. Mr. Cheever was in the basement doing something and he was none too quiet about it. Perhaps that is what the tea is about, she thought. He doesn’t want to keep me up with his midnight projects. “His house,” she muttered, “He can do whatever he wants.”

The next night as she was getting ready for bed one of her earrings rolled off the bedside table behind the headboard. She moved the table so she could reach the jewelry and glanced up behind the headboard. There was a book wedged between the board and the wall. She retrieved her earring and fished the book out. 

“Hmm,” she said reading the title of the book, which merely said ‘Journal’. At first she just opened it to see to whom it belonged hoping Mr. Cheever would be able to get it back to its owner. She saw a name inside the cover but then her peripheral vision caught a few words on the first page. She didn’t touch the tea as she settled into bed to read. 

The journal had been started six months prior to her moving in and ended abruptly after three weeks. Her hand covered her mouth as she fought to stifle a scream. 

The noise in the basement seemed suddenly louder than it had before and she tip-toed to the basement door and soundlessly opened the door. She peered down the concrete stairs and then as quietly as she could descended them far enough to see what exactly he was doing. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the old man. He was building a box that looked a lot like a casket and she clamped her mouth shut tight to keep from gasping. 

She forced her eyes away as she scanned the rest of the area. Hanging over a drain in the floor she saw a large chain attached to a floor joist with a large bolt. The chain had a hook on one end and the floor was stained red around the drain. There was a pegboard off to the left with assorted tools and knives. She turned and crept back up the stairs.

“Oh my god,” she said to herself over and over. “I can’t believe it.” She packed her bags quickly and included the journal. She thought to lock her door and retreated into the closet as she called the police. Whispering, she explained what she had found and that she was now hiding in the closet. The casket Mr. Cheever was building looked to be nearly complete. She was advised to get out of the house if at all possible and that a unit was on the way. 

She suddenly heard a sound like a lock being tripped and peeped through the levers on the closet door. “I can’t get away,” she whispered trying to keep her voice calm while she panicked inside. “He just let himself into the room.”

“Don’t hang up!” the operator said into the phone. “Whatever you do, don’t hang up!”

Ellen screamed as Mr. Cheever pulled the door open and she dropped the phone. 

“I see you have your bags packed,” he said. “Going somewhere?”

“My mom called,” Ellen lied. “She’s been hurt and needs me to come home. I was just making a reservation to fly home.”

“I never heard your phone ring,” he said calmly. “And, why are you in the closet?”

“I, I had it on vibrate so the ringer wouldn’t disturb you and I was in here so I would be quieter.”

Mr. Cheever picked up the phone. “Hello? Who am I talking to?”

The emergency operator quickly played along with Ellen. “This is Karen at the United Airlines reservations desk. I heard a scream. Is Miss Davenport all right?”

“Oh, yes, quite,” he answered, “I just startled the poor dear is all. She’ll have to call you back.” He closed the cover, hanging up the call.

Ellen’s eyes grew wide. “What did you do that for?” she asked him.

“You aren’t going home. I need your help with something,” he said. He grabbed her arm dragging her out of the closet and snapped handcuffs on her wrist before she could snatch it away.

Ellen fought back with her free hand and kicked at him but to no avail. He was surprisingly strong for his build and had her down the stairs and into the basement. He punched her in the face to make her quit fighting. The blow knocked her out. He then hoisted her up to the hook and chain over the drain.

Just as was selecting a knife the police snuck down the stairs and aimed their guns at him. “Halt or we’ll shoot!” one of them commanded.

When Ellen awoke in the hospital there was a detective waiting to speak to her. Ellen told him where to locate the journal in her luggage and he retrieved it.

He read it. “We’ve been looking for her for a while now.” He said. Her parents called in a missing persons report months ago. We’re going to have a forensics team check his place. There is no telling how many lives he’s taken or how many you saved by finding this and calling it in.”

Ellen cried.