oom: green lake, texas

[scurlock]

The final half hour of the ride into town feels like it takes just a few seconds - not long enough to get his nerves under control - but it isn't long until he's riding into Green Lake with the late afternoon sun. He hadn't pushed the paint too hard, not knowing the conditioning of the horse all that well, yet. Plus, he'd wanted to take his time in making sure that he didn't get there too early.

His plan, as it was, stood simple. Try to blend in - which he knew would be difficult, in a small town - and eventually find a way to figure out where the Barlow ranch was. From what Katherine had told him, she'd grown up somewhere in the county so it would be within riding distance. Hopefully he'd be able to get directions.

And maybe she would be there. The annual Independence Day picnic seemed as if it wasn't some fresh idea for a party they threw together the year she brought him to visit. Tradition and heritage were important.

So were first impressions.

He took the main road, that the stage line used, on his way into own. It was obvious as he neared it that there was indeed a picnic going on. Things looked a little bit different, but he'd expected that. Then again, he looked different too.

This was not the well to-do teacher from New York City stopping in for a visit, this was the soft spoken, slightly worn 'round the edges cowboy who was looking for work and a place to shack up for the night. With a tired horse, and promise of a bit of relaxation on the holiday, it seemed as if Green Lake would fit the bill quite nicely.

Doc leads the paint into town, and tips his hat politely to each person he passes, until he finds a rail with a water trough at it and guides the horse to it. He dismounts the horse easily and ties him to the rail, letting him drink while he tries to figure out just how to go about this, brushing his shirt off to rid it of some of the dust.

Texas in July is warm, which is why his coat is tied to the saddle and his pack, and he could use for a cold drink himself...

Comments

[scurlock]

"Well sir, I reckon so long as it's honest I don't mind what it is. I've had my fair share of working cattle," he studies the table for a second. "But I've worked fall crop before, and know my way 'round sheep and goats well 'nough to get by."

Even if it's just because the Dirty Underwear gang had a knack for cutting sheep, that don't matter.

He studies his hands a bit. "And to be honest with you, Dr. Hawthorn, so long as s'a man who'll treat his hires fair, I'd do just 'bout near anything."

That steely edge in his eyes is there for a reason, after all. Long days with little respect for his time and effort.

(Even if it wasn't in a Galveston stockyard but instead in the hot deserts of New Mexico.)

[ikissdhimbck]

Doc Hawthorn nods slowly, eyes focused and intent on his young guest. You can see the doctor's edge to his steady gaze: invasive; unfaltering; thorough; and deep. He's taking in every feature of 'Jay' now, for the first time, as if preparing a diagnosis.

"Reckon Samuel could do to give him some work, love," Millicent murmurs, as she starts to gather empty plates.

"Yeah," Doc agrees, scratching his cheek absently.

There's a moment's careful consideration.

"Tell you what. Good friend of mine lives up Heyser way, 'bout five miles northeasterly, outta town. Now, I don't know if he's lookin' for workers, this late in the year, but--"

He shrugs gently, leaning back in to polish off his plate before Millicent can do away with it.

"He's a good man, always has room in his bunks for good workers. Pays 'em fair, plus three square and a good clean bed. Lotta horse work, goats and pigs, some fowl. Few crops, too."

[scurlock]

Doc's finished with his meal, plate cleared (Katherine would be proud of him) and he carefully hands the plate and his silverware to the woman when she moves to collect it, murmuring a polite 'thank you, ma'am' as she does so.

But his attention is on the doctor, of course.

"We got plenty of horses through the stockyard, lot of them fiesty mustangs from out west gettin' shipped to folk east. I know horses. Heyser, you said?"

He knows he rode past it on the way into Green Lake. Five miles or so northeast.

[ikissdhimbck]

The two men are left to their own devices now, in the warm little dining room with the easterly sun shining in.

"Yeah, thereabouts. Name's Barlow -- Samuel Barlow. Mighta seen him 'round the picnic. His girl -- Katherine -- was the cute little thing with the blonde hair."

There's a fondness in his eyes as he speaks, and as he pauses to draw a hand through his thinning hair (forehead already exposed and shiny), he smiles faintly.

"You head on up the broad way 'til you hit the church, then turn on the northbound road heading to Victoria county. It'll take you a few hours, but eventually you'll come upon a barb fence, barley fields and the like. Head through the gate, 'bout half a mile or so you'll see a white farmhouse, arbor around the front door. That's the place. If Sam ain't around, well you can ask for Henry or Jim. They're the steward and stable master, respectively. They can probably help you out."

[scurlock]

He quietly repeats the directions to put them into his head. "Up the way to the church, head north towards Victoria county, eventually get to barley fields, and a half mile to the farmhouse proper. If Mr. Barlow ain't around, talk to Henry or Jim."

Then he nods. His memory is sharp. It has to be.

"She was the young lady I saw run up to you with that fine blue ribbon," he recalls.

[ikissdhimbck]

There's a quiet spark in his eyes.

"She was at that," he nods.

[scurlock]

"I'll likely head out there sometime this mornin' then," he says. "I don't suppose, if Mr. Barlow says he ain't lookin' to hire right now, I could stay here another night?"

He knows they'll say yes. But it wouldn't be proper to just assume that.

[ikissdhimbck]

"You know our home is open to you," he nods, "for however long you'd like to keep 'round the territory. There'll be enough, come suppertime. You just put your horse right back where you bedded him, and come on in."

He then stands from the table, craning his neck to try and see into the kitchen. "In fact, why don't you take a little somethin' with you for the ride. Millicent? We got any of that pork an' jam left?"

By the looks of things, the Hawthorn's aren't going to accept a polite decline.

But 'Jay' should know that already, given their hospitality hasn't changed much in the last six years.

[scurlock]

He is well aware of the fact that neither the Doctor nor his wife will accept a polite decline, so instead he simply thanks them several times over for their generosity before he takes his leave later that morning, with some packed food for his ride north out to the Barlow ranch.

And it is sincere. He honestly does appreciate it. Between the cost of the train ticket south, board for two nights in hotels, and most importantly, the cost of that paint horse, he's feeling a bit strapped again.