Dream Rule 34
(A Dream)
It was early summer in Texas, and it was hot. The sun shone down on a small ranch house near the border of Mexico. Inside were two brothers. They were sitting at their table having breakfast. It had been three weeks since they arrived there and had just finished eating dinner when suddenly an old man came stumbling into the yard. He appeared to be drunk.
“You are not welcome here,” said one brother. “Get out!”
The old man looked at him, then turned his attention to the other brother, who also yelled at him, “Out of my house!”
Then he ran after the first brother and punched him, sending him flying into the ground. Then he started kicking his legs as if trying to get up from under him but didn’t succeed before the second brother grabbed the old man by the throat and pushed him hard against a fence post until he choked.
Then he pulled out his knife and held it to the old man’s neck. “Give me all your money or I’ll kill you,” he threatened.
The old man laughed, “I have none.”
The second brother said, “Well, what do you want?”
The old man said nothing. He tried to get away, but the younger brother wouldn’t let him go. Then the older brother took off his belt and began to beat the old man with it, while threatening him with further violence.
When the blows stopped, both men looked down at the battered man, lying on the ground bleeding badly. Both of them seemed shocked; then the elder brother got up and left. When he returned to the house, the younger followed.
Neither said a word about the incident. Later, as they went through their daily routines, the younger brother couldn’t stop thinking about it. After a day passed without the other broaching the subject, he said, “What happened last night?”
The older brother looked back over his shoulder as if expecting someone to follow. “Last night?” he replied. “You mean when you came home late? What difference does that make now? We are safe here.”
“Don’t lie to me! Last night we got robbed,” he accused. “Didn’t you hear something outside?”
But the other shrugged his shoulders. “There is no reason for us to talk about this anymore. I’m sure whoever stole our money isn’t still lurking around here.”
He continued working on his chores until it was time to eat again, when once more the older brother asked him, “Do you remember anything else about last night?”
Once more the younger brother looked back as if looking for an accomplice.
“We have nothing to tell each other any longer,” he finally admitted. “If we continue to talk, someone could find out how much trouble we’ve gotten ourselves in.”
They worked together quietly through the rest of the day, finishing up just before dark. Then the elder brother locked the gate and turned the key so they would have privacy for their dinner, then went inside. The younger brother stood watching him until he saw him sit down to eat. He joined him shortly thereafter, but neither bothered with conversation. They ate silently, each lost in his own thoughts.
After dinner, they did their evening chores and sat talking about the weather, but neither mentioned what they had seen the previous night. When they walked to the barn, they talked about cattle, but it was obvious they were avoiding the issue. By bedtime, neither wanted to think about the robbery that had almost cost them their lives.
That night the younger brother dreamed of a large white horse with golden eyes. There was a red stallion with a black tail running alongside of it. Both horses charged at each other like raging bulls. They raced past him, charging headlong toward the end of the street where buildings were being erected. The dream faded away.
The next morning he awoke to find the door standing open, his brother gone and blood covering the floor in the front room, which was empty except for their belongings.
He went out the back way into the yard, then went inside and found a trail of blood leading to the front of the house, where it ended at the front door. A bloody shirt lay on the ground beside the body and another piece of clothing was on top of the corpse. The body looked as though it had been stabbed multiple times, and it wasn’t long before someone discovered him.
Within a week it became known throughout the neighborhood that an outlaw named El Indio had killed the brothers because he thought he recognized them as members of a notorious gang in Texas. He hadn’t noticed how the house was constructed until after he killed them. But it was obvious that the robbers had not only taken the money that belonged to the ranch, but also killed their brother.
As the days passed, the brothers’ families learned of the killings through townspeople who knew about such things. It was assumed that they had been killed because they were involved in bank robberies near San Antonio. Some even suspected that the real culprits had come back to hide the money.
Some blamed the killing on the sheriff, others on the marshal, while some even believed that the killer might be a stranger. The truth was unknown, but it did make people more wary of strangers than ever before.
***
Months passed without any more trouble from the two brothers. Then one evening, while the younger brother was working alone in the corral, a tall, thin man approached with his rifle in hand. He wore an old gray hat pulled low over his eyes, and the weapon was slung across his back.
The younger brother didn’t know how many shots he fired before his attacker was dead. He ran back to the house where he told the older brother that there were men shooting at them and had given them the warning signs. Then he returned to the corral.
By the time the older brother got outside, both men were dead by the side of the fence. The younger brother stayed inside until the older brother arrived, then told him what he’d done and showed him where the bodies lay. They took them inside and buried them in the same spot where they had hidden the money that was stolen the previous year.
A month later, word spread among those living on the streets about the deaths. No one seemed surprised by what happened, since everyone knew about the robbers. They weren’t afraid to mention it. And soon people were wondering whether it was a coincidence that these particular robbers were killed, or if they had been killed because they tried to rob a bank in Texas.
“Why don’t you go home? I’ve had enough of you. Don’t think you’ll stay here forever.” The elder brother stood glaring down at his younger brother with clenched fists, which shook as he struggled for control.
It was obvious to all that their relationship had changed since the death of his brother. They no longer shared common goals or had anything else in common except the fact that they lived in the same house. Each had his own life now, which left little room for the other to intrude on his daily routine.
For months afterward, they barely spoke to each other. They did their duties as best they could, and sometimes the elder brother helped with the ranch work while the younger brother continued to do most of it himself. But neither felt close anymore; each had his own interests and his own responsibilities.
When the older brother went out to work on a fence line or repair an irrigation ditch, the younger brother often joined him. They would ride horses together, working side by side as they repaired a broken section of wall or straightened a rickety fence board.
During these times, the younger brother began to feel more comfortable around his brother, and it seemed to help ease some of the pain that lingered within him. He never forgot what his brother had risked, and it was something he would remember forever.
Sometimes they rode up to the mountains together in search of game, but mostly they spent time riding the hills and plains around the ranch and looking for ways to improve conditions on the land. Sometimes they would spend hours talking about how to better manage the soil, how to keep the grass growing, or prevent cattle from straying onto neighboring lands or destroying fences.
Their conversations were usually quiet and private, although occasionally someone came along and interrupted their talk. But they always returned to their discussion as quickly as possible. Both seemed content simply being together in silence or talking about their lives when there was nothing else to say.
On the afternoon of August 4, 1881, while working together as they had so often before, the older brother said, “I want to ask you something.”
“Go ahead,” the younger brother replied with a slight smile, not knowing what to expect.
“What made you choose to become a ranger?”
The younger brother smiled again before replying, “You’re asking me to answer a question you can’t possibly answer yourself.”
“Maybe not. But I thought you might have an idea why I became a ranger.”
“That’s true. But tell me anyway, even if it is impossible to answer.”
The older brother looked away briefly as he searched for the words to explain why he had chosen this profession. It was an honorable career, one that he’d held dearly for years. But it wasn’t a choice that he would ever regret making.
He looked at the younger brother as he spoke, “You see… I had a family and a wife. We loved each other very much and were happy to be alive. And we had children. A son and a daughter. But one day my wife died unexpectedly and took our little girl with her. There was nothing anyone could do.
“My parents offered us help, but it was hard to accept. So instead of leaving town, which might have saved others from the tragedy, I decided to become a ranger. My first assignment was protecting railroad tracks in Colorado, and that’s where I met you.”
After saying goodbye, the elder brother went back to work repairing the fence while his younger brother walked toward the barns. As he watched his brother from afar, he saw him puttering around with tools and wondered what he was doing. Then he turned away and headed for the corral.
***
As the days passed, the younger brother began to feel less lonely. With each passing week, he found himself thinking less about his past and more about his future. He had many dreams to fulfill and only one chance to start over.
There was still a lot to learn about managing a ranch, and he hoped someday he would be able to take charge of the family business. His father’s death had brought on depression and left him without any direction. If his father hadn’t done so well with the ranch, maybe I wouldn’t have to come here. Or at least I would be with them now rather than alone like this.
He couldn’t deny that he missed his old life; he remembered fondly the time before the robbery when his world had been different and full of hope.
But it was important that he move on and find a reason to live again. He would have to work harder, do more things to better the ranch, and learn everything he needed to know to make it successful. Maybe then, after a few years, his brother would consider giving up the job as marshal and return to running the ranch.
By November, there was no doubt that he would stay on the ranch for as long as he could. He wanted to learn how to run it as well as his brother had. It was a good opportunity to learn something new and begin building a future for himself.
He didn’t mind missing church services, although he missed visiting with other members of the community. The people in the area were friendly and open-minded, so the isolation did not bother him as much as it might have in the past. He even liked the way the land grew more rugged and rocky as the winter snow melted.
It was during a late spring snowstorm on June 5, 1882, that he first met Tom Anderson. The man had approached him with a letter of introduction to his boss, Sam Hays. The letter described the younger brother as trustworthy and hardworking, a trait that was necessary for the position at the station.
When Sam Hays asked him why he thought he should be hired, the younger brother replied, “I believe I’m capable of helping the station out.”
Handsome and athletic, he stood six feet tall and weighed 190 pounds. Although he had worked hard to improve his physical condition since coming to the ranch, he didn’t look like a man who would be willing to take on the duties of a marshal.
With his brown hair cut short and neatly groomed, he wore a black suit and carried a pistol in a leather holster under his right arm. It wasn’t a large weapon but he knew how to use it properly, just like his rifle.
Hays liked the idea that someone with such skill and ability was interested in becoming his deputy. But he wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of hiring him for two reasons: he had never heard of this man or his family, and it was obvious he was hiding something.
He wasn’t trying to hide anything from Hays, but he couldn’t explain why he had chosen to become a marshal or what happened that night. After being shot in the chest, his heart stopped beating and he was unable to speak for almost an hour. When he came to, the first thing he remembered was lying on the ground and feeling weak. It was all he could do to sit up.
For most men who survived being shot in the chest, it was a miracle they lived through it at all. He had been lucky to escape with such little damage as a result of his wound. But the bullet had lodged itself deep within his body, and as much as doctors tried to remove it, it proved impossible. They couldn’t find it and eventually gave up.
“Why would a man risk getting killed by a gang to join your service?” Hays asked, trying to figure out why anyone would do something so foolish.
The younger brother didn’t know how to answer. It made no sense because he had always loved being outdoors. It didn’t matter where he went, whether it was hiking in the mountains or hunting along the banks of the river. There was nothing that pleased him more than working outside and doing honest, strenuous labor.
If a man was willing to give up everything to work here, there must be some compelling reason. But until I ask him, I’ll never know.
In time, Sam Hays learned how to trust him, although it took time to get used to having someone else in charge besides himself. For many years after his wife’s death, he had felt lonely without her by his side. Then, about four years ago, he started going out to bars and drinking himself into oblivion. The liquor dulled the pain caused by her absence.
Now he could honestly say he enjoyed his work. Tom was dependable and hardworking, so there were no worries about leaving him in charge while he attended to the needs of the passengers. And he liked the way he handled himself. Even though his brother had been shot, he seemed like an altogether different person since taking over the job as marshal.
He looked forward to riding around the countryside with Tom, talking about life in the wild west, or sharing stories about their childhood. His favorite subject was Tom’s adventures as a child growing up in Missouri.
One morning in mid-June, Tom told him about a man named Jim who ran away from home and left behind his parents and three sisters. It turned out the man had gone to Texas and joined the army. He was still there, so when Tom asked about him, Tom said, “He seems to like the Army of the Republic.”
As long as Jim stayed put, he wasn’t causing any problems. But Sam worried about the possibility that he might try to return to his family someday.
Tom and Ben had been out in front of the ranch house watching cattle graze in the pasture, and he was telling them about what he had heard from travelers headed northbound across the plains.
“I hear the Indians are restless again,” Tom said, looking up at the sky. “There have been attacks on settlements on the Oregon trail. They’re killing women and children before they burn the villages down. Most of them aren’t warriors.”
Sam frowned. “That sounds bad. We’ll see what we can do to make it go away.”
“What’s troubling you, boss?” Ben asked, glancing at him from the back of his horse.
It was true that Sam had been concerned about the recent trouble with the Indians. He had sent Ben out ahead to warn settlers along the way so they would stay away from the frontier for now. The only thing he could think of that could bring the whole area to the brink of war was if they found out where one of the outlaws was hiding.
But it was doubtful he would let them near him. In fact, it was a given that they wouldn’t be able to capture him even if they found his hideout.
“Don’t worry too much about the Indians,” Sam told them. “I’m not sure what brought this on, but I’m sure it will pass. The tribes have never attacked each other in the past, and it won’t start now. If they attack any settlers in the territory, then things will be very serious. We’ll just have to wait and see how this develops.”
The End