The Starshine Kid: Arroyo Grande
Part 19 of 20
The Nick of Time
The Starshine Kid and Clifford
Connors faded in and out of consciousness over the next couple of hours, their
faces scorched in the rays of the desert sun.
The two buried sufferers continued
to drift in and out of reality, not knowing if they were awake, dreaming, or
simply hallucinating. When the coolness of water rushed over their heads and
into their parched mouths, hope returned like a rushing river in a long dry
arroyo after a fresh summer rain.
“The name’s Parsons, Nick Parsons.
It’ll be alright fellas.” Nick wore a wide-brimmed, slate-colored rancher’s
hat. His voice and mannerisms were prepossessing.
After being released from their
sandy graves and filled with enough water to regain enough of their senses to
function, another man on horseback rode swiftly into sight… Anton.
“Well, now, this just ain’t the type
of romantic reunion I had in mind when I told you to meet Della at Iron Creek,”
Anton jested. “How did you go and mess that meetin’ up like this, Marshal Adam
King? Or should I call you the Starshine Kid…or maybe the Sand King?”
“Very funny, I guess I should thank
you two for savin’ our dried out hides,” Adam replied, coughing slightly.
Clifford Connors remained quiet.
“Yeah,” Nick answered, “We thought
about waitin’ a spell and maybe using them hides of yours to make some new
saddlebags, but—”
“Ok, ok, now,” Starshine
interrupted, “lets dispense with the funnin’ for the time bein’.”
“How’d you two find us?” Adam
questioned.
“We’ve been followin’ your trail for
a spell… just in case. Couldn’t let my sister’s man get himself into trouble
now, could I?” Anton laughed. “I picked up Nick not long after leavin’ Iron
Creek after I got patched up. My wounds weren’t so bad after all.”
“I bet they’d have to tie you down
before you’d admit to any wounds bein’ bad enough to keep you from ramblin’ on
with life,” a smiling Marshal King commented.
“What shall we be doin’ with the
likes of him?” Nick motioned toward Clifford Connors. “He be the outlaw you’ve
been after, Marshal?”
The Starshine Kid took another long
swig of water from a canteen fed to him by the friendly rancher, then answered,
“It’s a long story, but he’ll be standin’ trial and I promised to put in a word
or two for him.” Once free from their pits of sand, Adam’s and Clifford’s
spirits perked up and their strengths returned.
The group discussed Anton’s wounds,
Marshal King’s graze wound, burial in sand and how Anton had hunted down the
renegade Indians, including the remaining Brave that tended to the marshal and
Connors, and convinced them to return to the lands where they came from.
Anton clarified some supporting
facts, “It seems those foreign Indians were on some sort of expedition for
hidden Spanish gold. They spoke a mix of their dialect and Spanish, but I am
fairly certain that’s what they was a doin’. Someone up and stole their spare
horses and some cattle they had recently traded for, so they just hunted them
outlaws down to recover their own property.”
The Starshine Kid added, “Looks like
they ain’t no fonder of outlaws than we are.”
Anton laughed, “Reckon not, and they
sure ain’t soft on crime.”
Clifford Connors only listened in
remorse.
The group decided to camp for the
night at the halfway point to Iron Creek, the four trail riders settled in next
to a small spring located in a grove of willow trees. Jerky was all that was on
the menu for the evening, along with coffee strong enough to strip imported
paint off of a twenty-year-old steam locomotive.
Nick was a strong and sometimes
stubborn man. He was close to six feet in height, of medium build, chestnut
hair, sandy mustache, light eyebrows, and possessed piercing pale slate-blue
eyes. As a self-made wealthy rancher he knew the value of a long, hard day’s
work. As the men sat around the fire Nick told the tale of the legendary folk
icon Grady Debuer…
This be the tale of Grady Debuer,
A gun fightin’ man he was for sure,
With pistols ablaze and bullets a flight,
Grady was one who liked a good fight.
He stood tall and true, lean, strong and tough,
Being good against Grady was not good enough…
The old songster went on for almost
fifteen minutes with his oratory ballad. More tree branches graced the fire and
hot coffee filled the group’s tired tummies. The tough-as-nails rancher never
paused for one moment before finishing…
…Then one morn it came for Grady’s doom day,
Not a whisper, not a word, only those silent did pray,
The bullets flew fast and right on their mark,
Only now it was Grady who’d lay down in the dark.
On a grassy green hill they laid Grady to rest,
Down in the ground with the worst and the best,
But his story lingers on as trail tales do,
Told around campfires to me and to you!
“At that I reckon I’ll be turnin’
in,” Marshal King announced. “It has been one long couple of days.”
All four men agreed on the matter then
fell asleep under the night’s open sky, each staring at heaven’s stars, rolled
out like a blanket of light from one end of the horizon to the other.
Nick rode on alone in the morning,
returning to his ranch in the foothills to the west, while the remainder of the
group rode on into Iron Creek.
The ride back to Iron Creek gave the
Starshine Kid the time he needed to continue with his thinking and ponderings.
He was not getting any younger and the years of being a lawman were beginning
to show. Oh, he was still as fast as lightning when it came to handling his
guns, but that deep down burning desire to be out on the trail hunting outlaws
was nowhere near as big a flame as it had been in the past. Maybe it was Della
and his desire to have a life with her and raise a family, maybe it was only
the dimming of the lawman’s eye’s spark, or maybe it was just time for a
change. He knew what he wanted, but had a hard time admitting it to himself
after years of trail riding freedom and being that special hero that a town,
any town, needed from time to time.
“What’s on your mind, Marshal?” a
curious Clifford Connors inquired of the preoccupied lawman. “You thinkin’ or
just all burned out like a church candle after Christmas Eve services?”
“Yeah,” Anton agreed, “you look like
your thinkin’ took a long trip back east or somethin’.”
“Just thinkin’ ‘bout life and all.
I’ve had a mighty fine one at that.”
Connors straightened up in his
saddle and said, “I bet you got a tale or two in you from your many years of
bein’ a lawman, I’d bet my grandmother’s favorite knittin’ on that.”
Marshal King responded, “Your
grandmother’s knittin’?”
The trio laughed long and hard on
that saying.
*** Part 20: A New Beginning ***
________________________________
The
Starshine Kid: Arroyo Grande
By
Royce A Ratterman
©
All Rights Reserved
Cover
Art & Illustrations by Erlend Evensen
The characters,
locales, enterprises, entities, and events herein are entirely fictional and
intended for educational and entertainment purposes. Content portrayals do not
reflect any actual events, locales, entities, or any individuals living or
deceased.
Dedicated to all of those
who lost their lives establishing peace, safety, and harmony in the days of the
Old West
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