San Francisco 1908
"Clara, honey, get the door please," Lenore Lonefeather said. "It's probably Brisco."
"Yes, Momma," Clare ran to the door and flung it open. Uncle Brisco!" she shrieked, throwing her arms around the man on the stoop.
Brisco County Jr. grabbed the stair railing to keep from being knocked over. "Hi, Clara," he laughed. "Mind the leg, will you?"
"Oh," Clara unwrapped herself from Brisco. "Sorry."
"Wow," Brisco said, holding the girl out at arm's length. "You get prettier every year, kiddo. You've got your mom's looks and," he swallowed uncomfortably, realizing 13-year-old Clara could look him in the eye. "Your dad's height."
"So did you bring me a present?"
"A present? Hmmm," Brisco tapped his chin in thought, then snapped his fingers. "Yes, I think I did." He led the girl down the stairs by the hand. Tied to the hitching rail were two nearly identical chestnut horses.
"You remember CJ?" Brisco said. Clara nodded, rubbing the horse's noses. "Well, this is CJ's first foal. I haven't thought of a name for him yet. Doesn't seem right to call him Comet Junior Junior."
"Is he for me?" Clara was wide-eyed.
"Yeah," Brisco grinned. The girl threw her arms around his neck again.
"Thank you!" she squealed.
"Nice horse," Bowler said, coming down the stoop.
"Uncle Brisco gave him to me, Daddy," Clara explained.
"Why a horse?" he asked Brisco as they shook hands and pounded each other on the back.
"So now my favorite niece doesn't have an excuse not to come and visit me once and a while." Brisco replied, putting his arm around the girl. "He's cart broke, too." County knew Lenore Lonefeather disapproved of girls riding horses as being unlady-like.
"He doesn't talk back, does he?" Bowler said as helped Brisco lead the horses back to the stable.
"Only to me, Bowler," Brisco said, rolling his eyes. "Only to me."
"Are you lookin' forward to this fishin' trip as much as I am?" Bowler asked.
"You betcha," his friend replied. "I get so bored of Clark's Landing sometimes. I keep telling myself that I'm there for my kids every day, but there's days when I miss the excitement of the road."
"I hear you," Bowler nodded. "I've been lookin' out the office window at those hills all week." He pointed to the wheat-colored hills rising up across the bay. "The closer today got, the more I felt like bustin' out."
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"Brisco," Lenore said, kissing him on the cheek and pointing him to the sofa. "How are you?"
"Just fine, Lenore. You're as beautiful as ever."
"Thank you," she said graciously. "And how is Kate? And the boys?"
"The boys are growin' like weeds, and Kate's pregnant again."
"Why that's wonderful!" Lenore exclaimed. "Are you hoping for a boy or a girl this time?"
Brisco shrugged. "Kate wants a girl, but I don't care one way or the other, as long as it's healthy. And," he added. "We don't name it Brisco."
"Or Socrates," Bowler chimed in maliciously.
"Yeah," Brisco agreed, laughing. "That'd be like hanging a 'bloody my nose' sign on the poor kid's back for life."
"So why don't you want a son named after you, Uncle Brisco?" Clara wanted to know as she sat beside him on the couch.
"Well," County sighed. "I still have 19-year-old gunslinger wannabes showing up in town, wanting to draw on the great Brisco County Jr. I have to convince them that a) shooting a gimpy small-town sheriff is not enough to brag about and b) my wife would fill 'em full of buckshot before they got out of town." He grinned. "That part usually gets them." Comet's offspring had warned Brisco of the earthquake two years ago, and he was able to get the family out of the house moments before the quake hit. But trying to make repairs the next day, a powerful aftershock had pitched Brisco off the roof. He broke his left leg and spent the next six weeks in a cast.
"So can I come with you this time?" Clara asked hopefully.
"No," her mother said firmly. "The wilderness is no place for a young lady."
Clara looked at her father. "Sorry Clara. Your mama's right." Brisco looked as if he was going to suggest something, but thought better of it. Lenore Lonefeather was determined to raise her daughter as a proper lady; Clara just wanted to be able to do the same things as the boys. Brisco never brought his boys on the fishing trips because it seemed unfair to him that they could go and not Clara.
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Brisco and Bowler began to relax as soon as they were free of the city. Brisco groused about dying of boredom in Clark's Landing; Bowler complained about problems with his freight-hauling business.
About four hours out, Bowler turned in the saddle and looked behind him, a puzzled look on his face.
"What's wrong?" Brisco asked.
"I think we're bein' followed."
"How do you know?" Bowler gave him a condescending look. "Okay," Brisco conceded. "Stupid question. Why would anyone want to follow us?"
Bowler stopped his horse and dismounted. He knelt and placed his hand flat on the ground. "Only one rider. And not a very big one, either."
"What you do want to do?"
Bowler rubbed his chin. "Why don't we split up and come in behind him. You don't suppose it's Pete Hutter."
"I haven't heard anything about Pete in ten years," Brisco said. "Although that doesn't mean he's dead." Both men knew the stringy gunslinger had a habit of coming back from the dead when they least expected it.
Bowler mounted his horse and peeled off to the right. Brisco went left. They each took a wide loop back and met again in the road several miles back.
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Clara dismounted where the tracks split up. "Why'd they go different directions?" she murmured, crouching down to touch the marks in the dirt. She was about to stand when she heard a gun being cocked behind her.
"Put your hands up where we can see 'em, and stand up slowly," said a voice above her. Clara obeyed, rising slowly and turning toward her captors. She found herself looking down the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun.
"Daddy?" she squeaked.
"Clara!" her father and her uncle said in shock. Both men quickly holstered their guns. In a hat and man's clothing, Clara looked like a boy.
"What in the hell are you doin' out here, Clara?" Bowler sputtered.
"Following you," Clara stammered. "I wanted to see if I could track you."
"Bowler," Brisco said, gripping his friend's arm with both hands. Once the initial shock wore off, he was curious. "How much head start did you give us?" he asked the girl.
"Hour." Clara hung her head and wouldn't meet his eyes.
"She's good," Brisco said to his friend. Clara looked up, hopeful.
"She's lucky she ain't dead," Bowler growled, shaking his finger at her. "And she still might be, when her momma gets through with her. Does your momma know where you are, young lady?"
"I left her a note," Clara protested.
"What," her father demanded. "'Dear Momma: I'm going to track Daddy and Uncle Brisco across California?'"
"Something like that," she murmured.
Brisco, worried about the look in his friend's eye, put himself between the two Lonefeathers. "Bowler, listen."
"What?"
"She's good."
"Good?" Bowler roared. "She just ran away from home, goddammit!"
"Bowler!" Brisco yelled in exasperation. "Will you just shut up and listen? She tracked us here. Could you do that when you were her age?"
Bowler glared at him. "Course I could," he grumbled.
"And did you teach her how to track?"
"Lenore would've killed me if I had."
"Then Clara learned it on her own." Brisco stepped back cautiously. "Much as I love my boys, I can't send James out into the woods to hunt squirrels without Will or Daniel because he'd get lost. She's a natural, Bowler."
"A natural," Bowler repeated. His bewildered expression melted into a grin. "Well, of course she's a natural." He boasted. "She's my kid."
County grinned at the girl. "I rest my case."
"Okay counselor," Bowler muttered darkly. "So how do we tell Lenore she's safe? It's getting' too late to get back to the city before dark."
"Uh," Brisco looked around, then pointed. "Ah! Telegraph wires. I could send her a telegraph telling her Clara's safe with us."
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"CJ, hold still, will ya?" Brisco tried to balance on top of the saddle. He could just reach the telegraph wires.
"Watch yourself, Brisco," Bowler warned.
"I will," his friend replied. "Nothing I'd like worse than another broken leg."
Brisco tapped the stripped wire. The horse beneath him grunted in protest. "That was an L, CJ," County argued. "An L is dot dash dot dot."
"Daddy," Clara said, watching Brisco. "Why's Uncle Brisco arguing with CJ?"
Bowler said softly. "He's done that all the time I've known him, Clara. Talked to his horse."
"I think Comet told all his foals to annoy that County guy whenever possible," Brisco said as he carefully climbed back into the saddle. He shook his head and grinned. "I sure wish he hadn't taught them Morse code, though. They all argue with me about that."
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They found a lake not far up the road and decided to camp there for the night. Bowler caught a nice bass and Brisco fried it up for supper. When it was dark, Bowler went out to double-check the horses. Clara plopped down beside Brisco, who was watching the fire.
"This is fun," she said. "Eating and sleeping outdoors.
Brisco smiled into the fire. "That's why your dad and I still go out once a year to fish." He chuckled. "And tell lies about the good old days."
"Thank you, Uncle Brisco," Clara said.
He looked at her in surprise. "For what?" he asked.
"For saving my butt. I really thought Daddy was gonna kill me."
Brisco tossed another stick on the fire. "Nah, he wouldn't have done that. You ought to know by now that his bark is worse than his bite."
"It's the bark that scares me."
"I've been thinking," Brisco said. "You know what I said earlier about not caring whether Kate has a girl or a boy this time? Well, now I hope she has a girl, and she turns out to be as pretty and as smart as you, Clara."
"Really?" Her eyes were glistening.
Her uncle grinned. "Really."
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