The Return of Caulfield Blake by G. Clifton Wisler Read Free Book Online Page A

remember much from before, I guess.”
    â€œSometimes. I remember how you took us up into the hills. And I remember the fight you had with Ma over riding to town that morning, the day you left.”
    â€œI didn’t want to leave.”
    â€œThen how come you did?”
    â€œIt’s not an easy thing to understand.”
    â€œMaybe that’s because there really wasn’t a good reason. Pa, I used to wake up in the night and think I saw you coming in to look at us, the way you did when we were little. I used to run out whenever a stranger rode up, hoping it might be you.”
    Blake pulled the boy over against his shoulder. Zach threw his arms around his father’s shoulders and sobbed.
    â€œI won’t be disappearin’ again on you, son,” Blake vowed, squeezing the boy’s thin shoulders. “I promise.”
    â€œDon’t make any promises, Pa. They’re hard to keep.”
    They sat together in the darkness a long time, swapping stories of hunting deer and buffalo, or riding horses and being thrown. Finally Blake stood up and pointed at the fading lights coming from the Bar Double B.
    â€œYour ma’s waitin’ up on you,” Blake said, pointing to a single flicker of yellow on the far horizon.
    â€œThen I guess I better head home. Maybe I can ride night watch with you.”
    â€œWhat do you know of night watch?”
    â€œMr. Stewart told me all kinds of stories, how you raided the railroads and captured Yankee wagons.”
    â€œThat was a long time ago.”
    â€œBefore I was bom.”
    â€œGood night, Zach. Be careful on the road home.”
    â€œI’ll just climb up on old Jasper out there. He knows the trail home blindfolded, so the dark doesn’t much matter.”
    Caulie chuckled at the boy. And watching him ride off, Caulie couldn’t help feeling a father’s pride.
    â€œHe’ll make a fine man,” Caulie said as the hoofbeats melted away into the chorus of crickets and owls. “All he needs is a little time to grow.”
    Lying alone on the hard oak slat bed, Caulfield Blake promised himself Zach would have that time. It would be one thing Simpson wouldn’t steal.

Chapter Six
    If Caulfield Blake was unsure of his reasons for returning, Zach’s visit erased any doubts. Blake woke up early, took an ax from Dix’s toolshed, and began splitting mesquite logs. For the briefest of times he shut out the world of trouble that was hovering above his head. He was as close to home as he’d been in years, and as he gazed out across the familiar slopes and gullies, he recalled other, better times. He set aside his ax a moment and watched the sun paint an amber swath across the hills. A moment later he trotted toward the porch and fetched a loaded Winchester.
    The sound of approaching horses drifted across the landscape. At first they appeared to be coming from the Bar Double B, but now, as he concentrated, Blake realized the horsemen were arriving from the south . . . from town . . . and maybe from Henry Simpson.
    â€œHe was never one to waste time,” Blake grumbled as he readied himself for the coming confrontation. As it happened, though, the lead rider was none other than Dix Stewart. With Dix rode a bewhiskered scarecrow whose scarred brow and fiery red hair betrayed him as Marty Cabot. A thin-faced man a dozen years younger trailed along behind.
    â€œNever thought I’d live to see the day!” Marty bellowed as he rolled off his saddle and clasped Blake’s hands. “Caulie, I tell you, you look fit, my friend.”
    â€œAnd you look like you haven’t eaten in a month,” Blake commented as he stepped a foot away and examined his old friend. “Ought to’ve married a cook instead of the prettiest hair in Wichita.”
    â€œMaybe, but I’ve got no complaints. Shoot, even Hannah’s ma had a hard time puttin’ meat on these old bones, and Emma Siler could