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Call of the Brazos

PROLOGUE

Ghosts

“Change” is a word not found in many a cowboy’s vocabulary, especially one Matt Jorgensen, a cowboy from Montana. A cowboy’s way of living can take many turns along life’s trail before he finds his ultimate calling. One never knows from where the calling comes or, in most instances, how to best answer it. A cowboy only knows that he’s got to trust what he’s got to trust, and some of the time it’s difficult to understand, especially when one is torn between right and wrong, place of birth, and color of skin, and then change becomes all important to get one’s perspectives in order.
Matt Jorgensen’s call was to a ranch in Texas, south of Waco, across the Brazos where he earned the nickname, “The Brazos Kid.” The reverberating echo of his calling and the continuing plague of his southern culture against his northern heritage was his birthplace in Montana. Although many Montanans were sympathetic to the South, Matt had been reared twenty-one years without being prejudiced, mostly because he had never encountered a race or slavery situation. He left Montana clean of any racial biases and came back a different man. His life had again changed and taken on a different perspective when he met beautiful but rugged Ginny McBride, whom he lost soon after the mortar struck at Fort Sumter. He vowed to the wind that he would never fall in love again. Twenty-one years and a Civil War later, he returned to Montana following his mother’s funeral. He found himself about to make another major change in his life when he met Mary Beth Paterson, a refined attorney with many frills and laces, the complete opposite of Ginny. She preferred to be called by her middle name

From an eagle’s eye view, two figures silhouetted by the pale pink Montana sunset appeared on the Ruby River Ranch. It was late afternoon of Thanksgiving, 1882. Matt’s arm cradled Beth’s back as they stood in the stillness of the evening. She was a lovely young woman, with long flowing brunette hair to match her sparkling brown eyes. She was thin, and to Matt’s liking, just a little too thin. She had come to Virginia City as an attorney from Richmond, Virginia, and in setting up her practice, took Matt’s mother on as a client to put her property in order in her last will and testament. The cowboys on her ranch had laid Mrs. Andersen in her grave before Matt made it back from Texas, a place he called home for over twenty years. He was a cowboy in his forties who stood six-feet-four-inches tall with a rugged look and scars he earned through the Civil War and various battles in Texas. At his mother’s request, he had returned to his birthplace to see her before she died, but she succumbed before he could reach her. Being her only surviving heir, he was the new owner of the Ruby River Ranch.

The faint sound of a rifle echoed through the woods, causing the forest creatures to take shelter out of fright. Matt turned his face towards the sound, listened to the wind as it whistled through the treetops and, hearing nothing else, settled his eyes back on Beth. “What was that?” Beth asked, turning her head quickly and looking into the tall timbers on the hillside. Matt looked intently into the northern wind. “Monty cleanin’ out his rifle, I s’pose.” He knew different, but for the moment, he let it pass as he looked at Beth’s curious face.

The first snow of the season fell softly around them. Matt had not seen snow for some time having lived in Texas for so many years. Beth looked around, and seeing nothing unusual, said, “You’re looking puzzled about something.”

Matt felt something evil in the wind, but the quietness of the moment and the excitement he felt being with Beth left him with the task of assuring her that nothing was wrong. He rationalized to himself that certainly Monty, the foreman of his ranch, or any of his cowboys riding the range could simply be shooting at something. But he thought, “Not likely, though, because they know thet the noise will disturb the cattle.” He sensed it, but as the herd remained undisturbed, he put it behind him, hoping that nothing was wrong.

He brushed the snow from Beth’s coat and said, “There’s white stuff all over us.” Beth laughed. “Snow, silly. Pure, unadulterated snow.” She wiped the few drops from his face and kissed him.

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Ermal has been impersonating John Wayne for several years and is an expert on the life and movies of "The Duke." "Call of the Brazos" is Ermal's third in a series of Brazos novels.

duke@ermal.com